Whenever I was nine I saw my great-grandmother die. I went into her room to get my clothes to get ready and I saw her on her bed squirming. Later I found out that she died of a heart attack and it killed me inside. I never told anyone that until this year. I still think about it everyday and everytime I go to my great-grandpa’s house I get anxiety and panic attacks. Whenever I told my parents they took me to a mental hospital after one of multiple suicide attempts where they diagnosed me with PTSD, severe depression, general anxiety disorder, and a possible mood disorder. I also got put on anti-depressants and mood stabilizers but I don’t like taking them. I’m working on a better life for myself now but my past still haunts me.
