Escape the Maze

Nine months. That's a long time. It's how long you have to wait, from the time a baby is conceived, until they are born. People die and live in nine months. Nine months is a rebirth. Today is my nine month mark. Not for a baby, nor for graduation, a birthday, or another common celebration. Nine months ago today, I was stressed, I was pressured, I was sad and depressed. Nine months ago, I cut myself. This is not a celebration of my self harm, but the opposite! I have not hurt myself in nine months, and have not even had urges in almost that long. I have changed and improved so much in the last nine months. I have become a different person. I found who I am, who I want to be, I've found my real friends and grown closer to them than ever. I started this blog, I continued writing, I proceeded with therapy. I learned some guitar, some French, and a little more Spanish. I read books and wrote stories, I escaped the maze I'd been roaming for years. Nine months may not see...

This weekend I did one of the hardest things I've done in a while. I talked to my ex, my abuser, the boy who stole three years of my life. For a while, my therapist has been telling me that the only way to truly get closure from everything that's happened is to confront him. I didn't really believe her, saying that I had moved past it and was ready to continue with my life. For a month or two, I insisted I was fine, changing the subject every time we started talking about him. On Friday, my best friend M really woke me, as usual, to the contradictions of my preaching. I tell everyone to stand up for themselves, be strong, be honest, to firmly leave the past in the past. Yet I hadn't followed my own advice. I was terrified at just the thought of opposing E, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why shouldn't I finally stand up to him? I realized I had a lot to say to him, so many pent up emotions, yet it was all bottled inside. That was really the stra...

It is important to take time for yourself. Whether you've had a crazy day at work, run around all day doing errands or sat at home on your computer, at the end (or middle) of each day, you should give yourself at least five minutes. Some people call it meditation, but I don't consider it that way. I don't sit quietly, I don't close my eyes and think of nothing. All I do is connect to myself. Sometimes I write, or sometimes I play guitar, or maybe I just lay on my bed and listen to music. But the imperative part is to listen to yourself. For years, I pushed down my instincts, which only tried to protect me. I ignored the voice in my head telling me what was right and wrong. I gave into pressure from the people around me, and I had no opinion of my own. I felt terrible about myself, and I knew that what I was doing was unhealthy. But it took me years to overcome this dangerous habit of mine. At the end, it was one of the major pieces of the puzzle, something that gave...

I have met many wonderful people via the internet, and some not so wonderful people. Two of my best friends, L and M, (who live in NY and Belgium, respectively) I met online. They are strong, inspiring humans, and I feel lucky to call them my friends. A few years ago, I met a friend online, S. We were really good friends for a while, until our lives, studies, religions and opinions eventually drove us apart. Unfortunately, it ended unfavorably. That was the first "bad" internet relationship I've had. I suppose that's not entirely true. About three years ago, I was in need of friends, and decided finding a penpal or two would be good. I was friends with this guy N, who lived in Hawaii, a 13-hour time difference from me. We emailed a couple times, and then one day, we were both online simultaneously. So we started chatting, and the emails slowly dwindled. I would find myself chatting to him at insane hours of the morning, because it was only afternoon by him. We woul...

I've been blogging on and off for a few years. Even before then, I was writing. Whether it was stories in my notebook or scribbles on scraps of paper, I didn't care. I've found things that I've written from over ten years ago! I'm 18, and online, I'll go by Bex. Some people might know me, or recognize me or my story, but that's okay. I don't mind people knowing who I am, but I don't want to publicize my identity either. I've recently decided to start blogging again, and this time, I'm going to share it. I want to help people. I want to guide others who are in my situation, let them know that they're not alone. I've been through hell and back, and I believe I can use my experience in a way that will benefit myself and others. Where do I start? Let's start with the name of this blog. "Escape the maze." This is a term I have recently started using, to describe my battle with depression. I was 12 years old, when I fir...