My Inner Fight

My battle with myself.

My Inner Fight

I'm going to start by saying this: I know no one suffers the same as anyone else this is just my story and I'm putting it out there in hopes to help other people.

My battle, as far as I can remember, started when I was about 14. I never had a great life and in retrospect, I probably had it most of my life.

Born blue, shaking, and addicted to nicotine, life didn't start the best for me but I only know stories from back then no memories of my own. Dad had been in-and-out of jail and prison most of his life, and he and mom were both on drugs really bad when I was born.

My sister had already dealt with it for a few years so growing up, we knew it was us alone. When I was 2, the state tried to take me and my sister away from our family and put us in DHS custody.

My grandma ended up adopting both of us and we moved in with her. Most of my childhood, I slept in my grandma's bed or on the couch. There were six of us living there: me, my grandma, my uncle, my sister, my cousin (closer to me than my real sister, let's call her Shorty), and her brother.

All of us were adopted by my grandma, all blood-related, just parents with bad choices. Growing up, my mom was there but she didn't get off drugs until I was about 13. Dad was in prison, so I only knew my dad as a voice and words on paper.

Growing up without him hurt, mostly because my uncle had to be my dad. He had no issue with it; he loves me, but I knew he wasn't my dad.

As I grew up, I started getting bullied a lot everyday at school. We were poor, simple, people and growing up in a little, tiny town that means you're nothing.

I had one friend from 3rd grade on (I call him my brother.), but even then we were both bullied a lot. It went from us trying to fight back to us ignoring it to us giving up and letting them do it. The bullying carried on my entire school life but I just got smarter than them and started making awful mean jokes back to them. Anyways, when I was 14 I had been feeling really down for a few months and was starting to get suicidal. I decided to just fight through it because in my family those things don't exist. It got to the point I stopped feeling at all and ended up trying to commit suicide. It didn't work which made me feel worse because I couldn't even kill myself right. I decided to go to the doctor and see what could be causing this. They diagnosed me with severe depression and told me basically take these pills (not happening nobody even knew I was there) or it was untreatable. So I decided once again to just deal with it. I got really dark around the time I turned 16 to the point where I knew it wasn't just being a teenager I knew something was really wrong. I was having nightmares, suicidal thoughts, and I didn't feel at all. I was always just numb inside and going through the motions. I couldn't look myself in the mirror. Every time I did I got physically sick to my stomach and started crying. I could see the monster I was and the death in my own eyes and I couldn't handle it.

Around the same time I was doing things I shouldn't (I won't get into that) I discovered who Tupac was through doing that. For me, living the way I was living, Tupac was a Godsend. The stories he told were not only great but relatable. I had finally found an escape, but I didn't realize that escape was killing me. I was shutting myself off in the dark feeling nothing listening to music everyone but shorty and her big brother hated. I had quit sports and quit eating and decided writing was where I'd take my life. When I was 17 my nephew was born. My best friend in the world had just been born and I finally felt happy. That went away. At 4 months he had developed a rhabdoid tumor, youngest ever to get this diagnosis. I was there as much as I could be while still trying to date the girl I was with at the time. I watched him go through chemo, watched him smile and act like nothing was wrong after they amputated his arm at 8 months. All the while I was dying inside more and more. I was drinking a lot and smoking pot almost every day just to kill the numbness inside. One day after work I pulled up to my grandmas house and everyone was there which wasn't unusual but my stepdad came out of the house when he saw me pull up so I knew something was up. He came up to me in the front yard and said "bub he had his MRI today." I knew it was bad I could tell. He said "it's back and it's filled his lungs and there's nothing they can do." I shattered inside. I watched for 4 months as my nephew slowly slipped away. I was already empty I wasn't just broken and numb there was no fixing me and I knew it.

After he passed (I was a Paul bearer at his funeral, worst experience ever) I moved in with my brother (friend from 3rd grade) and we were drinking everyday and smoking pot all day everyday. I was trying to fill the void and feel anything at all. We decided to move back with our respective moms and it just made things worse. I was an alcoholic who wasn't allowed to drink so I was feeling but it was all anger all the time. I was still smoking all the time but it didn't do what I wanted. Then I met my now ex-wife (other story). Now I'm back at moms with no job, no car, no license, still just one friend, a daughter, still fighting depression every day.

It doesn't go away but that doesn't mean I give up. I cope however I can: my daughter, music, filling space so I'm not alone, anything I can do to help me ignore the fact I'm numb to feelings and dead and empty inside. I cry myself to sleep a lot and I recently stopped eating again. I haven't eaten in 2 days on purpose, I showered and fully washed myself yesterday for the first time in over a year. It felt good but that feeling went away when I saw a knife on my floor and considered cutting myself. It's a constant inner struggle with this beast and I do it everyday. I put this story out there to let people know it is worth fighting. It's worth waking up and getting out of bed every day. It's worth making yourself do the things that seem worthless or too much effort. Get up, brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, brush your hair. It will seem like it's so much work and it's not worth it but it is. I promise it is worth it it gets better. It never goes away and you'll always fight it but it's worth the fight it's worth looking yourself in the mirror. Please remember it's worth it when it seems like it's not.

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David Coon III
David Coon III
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