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Prior to my depression, I was a professional mountain bike racer. Not just any mountain biker, I raced downhill mountain bikes. The most extreme form of mountain bikes. I was finally getting good sponsors and I was training hard 7 days a week. I had the most beautiful girl friend who supported me in my quest to become the world’s fastest mountain biker, but when we broke up, a depressed state struck. I was so jealous that she could laugh and have fun, and I couldn't. I yelled at her for hanging out with her friends, and eventually she had enough. One thing on top of another pounded me into the ground. The loss of a loved one, my quest in mountain biking; just everything. For me, it was the cumulative effect of everything that was happening that drove the beginning of depression. I had no idea what was going on, all I wanted to do was be by myself. I cried without any control, and no one understood. My parents were punishing me because they thought I could control everything, but I couldn't.
An event that stands out in my mind the most was one day when I was on the computer, I started crying without any control. My dad came up stairs in a rage, cussing, demanding what was wrong. All I knew to do was keep my head down and refrain from conservation. My dad picked up the chair and slung me across the room. I just kept crying, praying that he would go away. Finally he left me alone and I slipped further into my depressed state. That night I planned my death for the first time.
I lost interested interest in mountain bikes and my parents were mad about it. A few days later they sold my 9,000 dollar mountain bike that I worked so hard to get. I knew dying would only cause more trouble around me but I thought it was the only way out. That night, I tried to hang myself in my closet, but when I became unconscious; I slipped out of the belt, fell to the floor and laid there until I woke up.
A few days later, I sought help and was diagnosed with major depression. But the journey wasn't over yet. It took four different medications before I found the right one, and in between the times that I was switching medications, I grew worse. Finally the right one was found. Praise god!
I have made it my sole purpose to get this book out to everyone, make it available in psychiatrist offices for parents and victims to understand. Everyone needs to read this book.
Again, thank you so much, and I hope to be talking to you soon,