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Depression Show
Third Eye Blind and ITM's Andrea team up to help save lives.
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What Is Depression? | What Is Self-Injury? | How To Help A Friend
Quotes from Third Eye Blind | Teens Writing About Depression
Teens Writing About Depression

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D.'s Story
It was a Sunday night, and I was REALLY stressed out. School (honors classes), family, self-esteem issues, tension, and just about everything, including the basketball team. It may sound like little stuff, but to me it was just all piled up and I couldn't handle it anymore. So I took 22 Extra-Strength Tylenol, 7 Advil, and a Prozac.

About two hours later, at about 11:00, I went to sleep. At 12:40, I woke up and got really scared, really scared that I was going to die. I went into the bathroom and tried to throw the Tylenol up, but all that came up was blood. I tried to run to my parents' room, but at this point, I could barely move. I was scared and the Tylenol was taking its toll. So I turned on all the lights and started screaming/crying that I took all that medicine. My dad rushed me to the hospital...

I remember the time being 12:47 in the car. We went to the emergency room and the doctors took my blood. After what seemed like hours and hours and hours, they told me that my Tylenol level was 154 and it was a good thing my dad took me to the hospital when he did. I had to drink all this stuff, called MucaMyst...but the most common name for it is Charcoal. I kept throwing up all night. Soon, they took me to the intensive care unit. I had about 7 things hooked up to me...they wouldn't let me be by myself, they thought I was going to do something again. I had to stay in the intensive care unit until my Tylenol level reached 10, which is the norm of what it's supposed to be.

Every four hours I had to drink that Charcoal stuff. It was probably the most disgusting thing I have ever had in my life! Anyway, so then I went to the Pediatric floor. My mom had to stay with me the whole time. They wouldn't let me close the blinds. They had to watch my every move. I would go to the bathroom and they kept asking me what I was doing. In the hospital, on my floor, there were a lot of sick kids. I mean, really sick...and I was there because I tried to kill myself. I took a room from someone who could have been dying, all because I did something stupid.

Finally, on Wednesday afternoon, they let me go home. But it wasn't the same. I tore my whole family apart! I'm not even allowed to stay home by myself anymore. I'm not trusted to be by myself. My parents made me move my mattress into their room because they're afraid I'll do something. My sister wouldn't talk to me for like a week after. Things are so terrible now. Not a minute goes by without me thinking about killing myself again, or thinking about what happened...but every time I think that, I think of how much I would hurt the ones who love me. I don't think I REALLY want to die, as much as I think that I do. It's just that I couldn't think of any other way to cope with my problems. I WANT to be better. I hate being miserable. It's so hard for me to laugh and put on an act. I want to be happy without an act. So I'll get the help I need in order to get to that place.

M.P.'s Story
The lesson I learned for this year: Guidance can help you a lot more than you think.

About seven months ago, I started feeling bad for reasons I couldn't explain. Everything started bothering me more that usual; a lot of times, my thoughts were so paralyzing that I couldn't think about or do anything else.

My family life has always been sort of bad because we all don't get along, so I've always avoided my parents. They're always yelling for no reason. They've always made me feel like crap so I never talk to them. Unfortunately, the fact that you have no help from anyone but your friends is a big problem when you're having a nervous breakdown.

Between having to play for two soccer teams, the effects of September 11th constantly bothering me in the back of my mind (along with all this other fear of things), my parents not allowing us to express anger, and getting made fun of a lot for being weird was driving me crazy. I wanted to die.

So I started slitting my wrists. Eventually, one of my friends thought it would be interesting to see how my teacher would react so she told her. My teacher told the guidance counselor. At the time, I didn't know what was wrong with me. But all the guidance counselor did was ask me what I thought was wrong...I guess I didn't really want the help because I didn't think anything was wrong with me, and I didn't believe that guidance counselors could help anyway. So I stopped going, but the pain inside kept growing.

Soon, I couldn't handle much more. I quit the basketball team and stopped doing my homework. I spent endless nights locked in my room just thinking about everything. I didn't sleep, and the cuts were getting deeper. I slept during classes sometimes and my grades went from straight A's to really low. I even talked to myself and got dizzy sometimes. But my parents never took the hint.

I saw an "In the Mix" episode of your show about ecstasy so decided to go to your site to find out more about it. I ended up finding the part about depression and realized I had all the symptoms. My sadness got to the point where I couldn't even focus on my friends anymore. My fears were scaring me more than usual and one night, I pictured my own death and even wrote up a will.

The day after, when I realized I was still alive, I went to guidance and waited for her to come back from what she was doing and I told her everything. I felt a little better after we talked about everything. She promised not to tell my parents, if I kept coming back and promised not to slit myself again. Now, I'm starting to change my perception on things and trying to not go nuts over things I can't control, like when I'll die. She told me that I have to decide which roads I take in life, and that hurting myself doesn't change anything. I should stop thinking about the outcomes of everything so much and just do what I think is right.

As much as I've hated the 8th grade, I think I've learned more this year, than I have during my entire life. Guidance Counselors can help a lot, but only if you want the help. And thanks to a few good teachers, many supportive friends, and a guidance counselor that I had no faith in, I might some day feel like myself again.

I also wrote a poem:

Take a razor
Slit your wrist,
Scream
Until there's no sound left,
Beat the crap
out of yourself
while no one cares,
Until you finally
Dig to the bottom
Of your being.
Go as far
as you can go,
On the road of self-discovery,
Even if it results
in death.