By the end of this, I’m pretty sure I’ll be crying.
When I was younger, before puberty, I was excessively skinny. My mom worried about me and took me to LOADS of doctors, all of which said I was fine and would always be a skinny girl. But that wasn’t true. I hit puberty rather early, being the first girl in my grade to hit it.
Not only that but the hair that grew on my arms was dark and considering I had a light skin tone during the winter months I got teased excessively about my now increasing weight and “hairy arms.” That and the constant being watched over the stalls because to them I was some freak since I’d hit puberty and none of them even knew what it was.
My periods went regular for awhile, no changes in them. Though I did get depressed sometime in middle school and ended up on an antidepressant. Paxil, was the one. It added to my weight gain and no matter how much I watched what I ate, or exercised I still gained weight. My mother would cry at night telling me she didn’t want me to be fat and ugly like her.
But then sometime in high school, I think my senior year, my period started and it didn’t stop. I was terrified, I didn’t want to tell my mom because I thought she’d blame me. Thought she’d think I did something I wasn’t supposed to. But she noticed after a month or so and I kept asking her for pads and kept getting weaker and weaker. I went to my first gyno, who flat out told me it was because I was fat and to lose weight. She didn’t even want to put me on birth control, but my mother’s begging got her to do so.
However, the birth control she put me on made the bleeding worse and I could barely get in the car when we went to my doctor for another check up, however she wasn’t there. Instead her partner was and she checked me. Immediately with looking at the hair on my arms, the way my weight was distributed she asked me if I’d ever heard of PCOS and had I been tested for it. I got a test confirming I had it, with her fussing at her nurses because they wanted three vials of blood, when I’d been bleeding nonstop from my “period” for some three months. She made them make due with one vial of blood.
That doctor put me on birth control, metformin, told me to get some iron pills for my menstal cycle, and told me to see a nutritionist (I haven’t because I don’t have the money). She also gave me a printout she’d made on PCOS and told me a few websites to check. I got home that day and looked up PCOS and started crying nonstop after just two paragraphs into one of the sites.
For weeks after that I had nightmares about my hair falling out, after finally coming to terms with my hair which I’d hated my whole life. It was that week I made my first suicide attempt. Of course I took a whole bottle of pills and slept it off. I told no one, not even my therapist at the time, especially since I was now too old for her to see me and was considered well enough to get my new medication, wellbutrin, from a regular doctor.
I have tried suicide twice more since then, both with pills. Both with the same result, of me sleeping it off even though I took a whole new bottle. Once of tylenol, another of aspirin.
It wasn’t until recently, when the nightmares of losing my hair came back did I decide to take action against PCOS once more and not let it run my life. I was convinced I’d just let it run its course and maybe just end my life at the first sign of my hair falling out. But my mom snapped me out of that when she heard me crying because of cramps and asked if I’d been renewing my birth control pills, and uponhearing that I hadn’t made me go to a doctor and resume my BCP and metformin.
I think she knows about one of my attempts on my life, or it’s from a scare that happened in middle school when my boyfriend of the time mistook all the pills I had to take, prescription, as an attempt on my life. But she tells me constantly how much it’d hurt her to lose me and how she thinks I am beautiful. Sometimes I believe her, but most of the time I think it’s because she’s my mom and she -has- to say those things.
I begged the first doctor that told me I have PCOS to just remove my ovaries, since they’re what causes all of the problems, but she said I might want kids. I made up my mind when the words “causes infertility” came from her mouth that I didn’t want kids anymore. Why put myself through that ordeal when I can save myself the pain and disappointment? Especially the disappointment that I would cause the person who would, in the future, want children with me.
And this, with a very sad… and very out of tune violin solo concludes my story for now. (I just NOW figured out this is in WYSIWYG mode…)
Want to connect with me? My name is Shikkari on the SoulCysters Message Board.