Depression is hard to live with. But so is self-loathe. So what happens when depression+ self-loathe turns into self-harm?
For D.J Preston,
this nightmare was real. He's been kind enough to share his story with me and all of you blogsters out there.
*Me "Do tell me how life was treating you?"
*D.J Preston-"I’m 22 years old now and its been 7 years since I’ve put a knife to my arm. Its been seven years since the blood that trickled down my arm competed with the blood that flowed down my face. It was like all of my emotions were being poured out with my blood because I didn’t know how to release them any other way. I had cystic acne. My face would spontaneously bleed. The scars on my left arm were just as great as the ones that were on my face. I was put on a controversial drug called Accutane in 2004, when I was 14. This was to cure me of my cystic acne. I signed this waiver and was given large doses of the drug. This was the first time I heard of any drug coming with a small booklet of side effects. Printed around the pill bottle and booklet was a warning about death being the number one side effect. The dermatologist never said anything about it out loud. I think she was more enthused about making a sale because the drug was very expensive. Apparently, the drug was known to cause a chemical imbalance in the brain. The booklet that came with the drug said that some users became depressed and ultimately committed suicide while using it. I didn’t care. I wanted to be cured. Seeing scars and blood streaming down my face was a horrific sight to me and it was getting difficult to hide it from others. I felt like a monster. I knew I was already depressed by the time I took the drug, but to this day, I’m not sure if the drug sent me beyond the depression I already had and made me start cutting. How people bullied me in my preteen years and how I couldn’t connect with people well made me feel alone. The fact that I would go home to an empty house everyday didn’t help either. It did however make cutting much easier for me to do. I was one of those people that had an imaginary friend for a while. I used my imagination a lot to keep myself occupied because I didn’t have cable tv, internet, nor many video games. It was actually quite fun at times though. In the midst of a lot of solitary time, I started to develop a different way of thinking. I thought of ways to change myself so I could be accepted by others. I was overweight so I figured by losing weight, people would like me more. I went to great lengths to drop the pounds. On some days, I would just eat one thing: a sandwich. Some days I wouldn’t eat anything at all. I’d exercise at least twice a day for a few hours. The consequences of doing this made me have very dark circles around my eyes, long periods of drowsiness, and I’d have the most horrible headaches for weeks at a time. The headaches were so bad that it was hard to walk or open one of my eyes. My body ached all the time but my stomach was the worst. Every blue moon, I would get this excruciating pain in my stomach that would come about every 30 seconds. This would last for over a week then it would go away. This has happened about 3 times in my life so far. I started going to a military academy by age 11. The environment became so stressful to me that I would only sleep just for a few hours. Before going off to class on some mornings I would stare out of my window before sunrise. It was just something great about staring at the peaceful clouds scattered across the dark blue sky. I wished I had peace like that. This is when I was starting to love nature. Being outside in solitude brought me comfort because I could feel God’s presence. Its hard to explain but once I was engulfed in sunshine, I didn’t feel alone anymore.
During the ages of 12, 13, and 14, I became very skinny. But the over-exercising didn’t stop there. I did make a few friends during those years but we departed for various reasons. They’d either grow apart from me or relocate. I started to have anxiety attacks for the first time at 14 and that’s when the cutting began. The first few times I was afraid to do it. The very first time I saw blood come out of my arms was scary. I didn’t know if it was going to stop bleeding. It eventually did. As time passed, cutting became easier to do. Instead of slowly digging into my arm, I’d slash it fast and didn’t care where on my arm that I had cut. I began experimenting with cutting around my wrist a couple times. I didn’t want to die. I did it for a rush, something new. I had a dozen scars on the inner part of my left arm. Since I didn’t hang around people much, was an only child, and my mom was gone a lot, nobody ever saw the scars. I’m grateful now that I never struck a nerve or caught an infection. I used a long kitchen knife. I never even thought about the types of bacteria that could’ve been on the blade. It was definitely a knife for cutting raw meat. People knew something was bothering me deep within. My eyes always told my story. There would either be a long-lasting scowl on my face or a frown. I never noticed it but others would always point it out. Maybe when I saw myself in the mirror I would get more self-conscious and would immediately straighten my face. Who knows? I just never saw myself like that. Although I hardly looked in mirrors either because I hated the way I looked. For instance, after washing my face, I would instantly sink my face in the towel because I didn’t want to look into the mirror right in front of me. Sometimes I’d see blood on the towel. I didn’t take pictures or appear in videos. I have little captured memories of my teenage years. Tired from the stress of going to a military oriented school, I convinced my mom to get me transferred to a regular school by my sophomore year. One day I decided to bring my knife to school. I hid it deep within one of my binders that were inside of my book bag. I was confident that the security guard wouldn’t find it while checking my things because she’d normally move along fast to get to all of the rushing morning entrants. I kept the knife in my book bag throughout my classes. During lunch, I went to my usual spot: the balcony on the second floor. I’d sit there alone and reflect on things while staring out of the window. On this particular day, my friend Tab decided to join me sitting there. After talking briefly, I got the courage to show her the scars on my left arm that were hidden beneath my long sleeve shirt. She immediately stood on her feet and cried out to God. I was very surprised by her reaction because I never saw that side of her before. She wasn’t a religious person. Tab asked me if I had the knife with me. I showed it to her and she broke down. When the school day was over and everyone was heading out the building, I saw a small group standing at the exit door. It was my friend Tab, my 3 other friends that I met through her, and a faculty member. The faculty member was actually the school counselor whom I never met before. She escorted me into her office. I saw the sad faces of my 4 friends before she closed the door. When I sat down she questioned me about having a knife. I hesitated to reveal it because I knew bringing a knife of that caliber would result in an expulsion. After staring at the floor for a while, I got the guts to answer truthfully. She replied saying that she already knew. I realized that my friends gave her my story. I thought that from this point the course of our convo would be about what legal consequences were ahead of me, but instead, she gave me advice about depression. The counselor talked about how her daughter was taking anti-depressants and was seeking therapy. She wanted me to do the same. I never did because I didn’t believe pills or therapy sessions could cure me. I instead suppressed my feelings because the things I were doing and ways I were feeling weren’t brought up much in the Black community. I didn’t want to feel like I was even more of an outsider by speaking about them. As of matter of fact, I would even hear people laugh about such techniques to cure depression. Another reason why I kept quiet was because when I researched everything I was going through on the internet, there was nothing but stories of White females. It was embarrassing and emasculating because I knew people would judge me harshly from this. Its like the whole world saw these issues based on one demographic. A Black dude from the hood had to have been the most unlikely person to go through these things. This would be my first and last meeting with the counselor. I’ve always had a high GPA in schools until I sank into sorrow. I nearly had straight As every year. This new school put me out after flunking all of my classes except two. I was kept from auditorium sessions and field trips for having several Fs at this school. Others that had low grades like me were put in a room toward the back of the school. I used this time to do work, draw, write poetry, and write stories. I actually enjoyed it because it reminded me of the things I used to do as a small child. Only one other high school in my region accepted me after my poor grades. After transferring, my depression became dormant. I stopped cutting by age 16. I ended up graduating high school on time by going to multiple other places for night school and summer school. This was to make up for my failed classes. I still kept to myself. I spent my lunches at the library or in the band room. I never wanted to go the cafeteria because I didn’t like being around large groups. I figured the more people I was around, the more likely it would be for me to run into ridicule. This mindframe would eventually lead me to avoiding large groups of people wherever I went. At church, I became an usher so I wouldn’t have to be part of the congregation. I knew that the same type of people I dealt with at school were also in the church. I eventually worked in the sound booth by myself so I could be in total isolation. After a year from doing that, I stopped going altogether. My church became very divided anyway after scandal and our pastor left. I remember attending a church meeting and it was sad to see the people arguing back and forth like madmen. I lost the foundation I had as a child.
After all the bullying, exclusion, & people departing from me, I wanted to be accepted again. When the cutting stopped, the mentality of self harm only manifested in other things. I no longer knew how to channel my anger so anxiety attacks began again at age 20. It was mostly at home. I found myself shaking very hard, jumping out of my seat in anger, having dozens of thoughts per second, and many sleepless nights to say the least. To be accepted, I would give more than I would normally give and be of service to people more than I would do for myself. My final breaking point was when I found myself hanging on a 3 story apartment complex rooftop, on a fire escape ladder, trying to break in a friends apartment to get her back inside. I could’ve died. This was a prime example of the risks I would take to for people to like me. There’s way more to the story on my own blog. Cutting was something I did to channel my anger: mostly the angry feelings I had toward myself. I let the words and actions from others make me hate myself. I hated the way I thought. I hated the way I looked. I hated how I had very little common with the people around me. And they taunted me because of it. The taunting wasn’t just from people I was forced to associate with at school, it was also from strangers at other public places. At 21, I finally went to a doctor about it and he said I had ADHD. He gave me months worth of capsules of Straterra. This time I didn’t take the medication because I knew my bond with God was strong enough to get me through my situation. And indeed it did prevail. Accutane was pulled from the market in 2009. It was removed because of the amount of money they were having to spend to defend themselves from claims that Accutane caused patients to develop Crohn‘s Disease. There is speculation that Roche removed Accutane because they feared new studies would show a causal relationship between Accutane and depression/suicide. Different law firms have created commercials reach those who want to place a lawsuit against the company.
This was my past and I’ve changed my life around at 22 by getting to know God better. He is truly all that I need. I know that there are people that will still judge me to this day because of everything I’ve done. Some of the same people that tell me to leave it in the past often bring up my past and use it against me. To this day, I still get judged by the way I look. Its not so much in the context of beauty, but in the context of how I don’t look like the person they expect to see based on my character and experiences. I’m used to it now. All of my arm scars have cleared and most of the scars on my face are gone. No pictures, no videos. What I have left is memories in my head that I want to tell my story with. I want to tell my story so that those who are like me will know that they’re not alone."
*Me-"Wow...that is, so deep. Made me teary eyed.
Well, you've definitely been through a lot! And I'm terribly sorry that you've had to go through it all. But, I have a question if I may ask. You're mother, did she ever notice anything? Try and comfort you? And, what about ur father? Was he ever in the picture?"
*D. J Preston- "My mom almost found out when she saw part of my arm one day. I told her it was from accidentally scratching my arm up on a fence. I revealed the truth to her just two weeks ago though. I think she's still letting the idea settle in her head but she took it well. My dad was an alcoholic and used to hit my mom. They split when I was 5."
*Me-"Oh dear.
I'm sorry...What about your friends? Did they ever notice anything else? Like, did they ever confront you again?"
*D. J Preston-"Its ok. Once I left the school that put me out, my buds and I grew apart. They probably questioned me a few more times but I can't remember since it was so long ago. I ran into Tab a few times since then, but we never talk about anything that happened sophomore year. I think its kinda embarrassing for both of us."
*Me-"Well, also shocking.
And ur life now, how has life been treating you now?"
*D. J Preston-"Thanks for asking! :) Life has been good. I still struggle with loneliness and irrelevance sometimes but its nothing like it used to be. It helps when I talk to God or go out on my own. I started taking myself out to dinner and going to different events. I'm finishing up college and looking forward to do some traveling."
*Me-"That sounds good
Is there anything you'd like the readers to know?"
*D. J Preston-" Yes. I believe everything happens for a reason. You wont have a testimony if you don't first go through the test. You wont have a message if you first don't go through the mess. I believe my hurt and pain helped me not become a product of my environment. I look at some of the people that bullied and taunted me and today they are a mess. Its ironic because they have so many issues and problems. Also, a great amount of the time I was alone I fell in love with composing songs. I've had opportunities to work with Disney on the Hannah Montana series, Spike TV, and I'm currently a composer for the NBA (National Basketball Association). I do music for their website and commercials. I just scored my first independent film last month. I wouldn't have met all the great people and obtain these jobs if I didn't go through the pain of my childhood. "
*Me-"That sounds so great. Your becoming famously known.
The film, what's the name of it?"
*D. J Preston-"Thank you. Its called The Swing Set. Its not a big release but I know one day I'll work my way up to that level of film. I'm not all about fame though. If the fame comes, I want people to just be inspired by my story. I'm never a braggart and into much self-indulgence. I even got rid of my website that I started, my MySpace, and my Facebook fan page. I can't take credit for anything that God has done for me. God will send for the right people to hear my message. I don't have to become a product of pop-culture to do so but if that's His plan, I'm down for it. I just want to live my life how anyone else would. Eventually I will have a more stable career, a new home, a wife, children, and a garden. Gotta have the garden. I love nature haha."
*Me-"Aw, that's so sweet.
Sounds like you have a good life now. After all you've went through, you deserve it.
Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
*D. J Preston-"Yes. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be part of your blog!"
*Me- "Well, actually thank YOU for sharing such a deep, moving story. I wouldn't be able to share mine without freaking out.
So thank you, means a lot to me and my readers."--
D. J Preston has been through hell and back. But with the help of God, managed to find the light within the dark. I don't think I've ever read or heard a story such as this one. A story that ends with the help of God. It's a true miracle and shows proof that all is possible, with the help of God Himself.
If you or anyone you know self-harms, is depressed, or thinking about suicide, I urge you to PLEASE either contact your local hospital, call 911, or contact the suicide prevention hotline.
Self-Injury Hotline
SAFE (Self Abuse Finally Ends) Alternatives Program
www.selfinjury.com
1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288)
National Adolescent Suicide Hotline
800-621-4000
Boys Town National Hotline
1-800-448-3000
http://www.eliteskills.com/teen_cutting/hotlines.php
I would like to thank D. J Preston for sharing his story. I'm very honored and, I wish the best for him in life.
~Bella~
For D.J Preston,
this nightmare was real. He's been kind enough to share his story with me and all of you blogsters out there.
*Me "Do tell me how life was treating you?"
*D.J Preston-"I’m 22 years old now and its been 7 years since I’ve put a knife to my arm. Its been seven years since the blood that trickled down my arm competed with the blood that flowed down my face. It was like all of my emotions were being poured out with my blood because I didn’t know how to release them any other way. I had cystic acne. My face would spontaneously bleed. The scars on my left arm were just as great as the ones that were on my face. I was put on a controversial drug called Accutane in 2004, when I was 14. This was to cure me of my cystic acne. I signed this waiver and was given large doses of the drug. This was the first time I heard of any drug coming with a small booklet of side effects. Printed around the pill bottle and booklet was a warning about death being the number one side effect. The dermatologist never said anything about it out loud. I think she was more enthused about making a sale because the drug was very expensive. Apparently, the drug was known to cause a chemical imbalance in the brain. The booklet that came with the drug said that some users became depressed and ultimately committed suicide while using it. I didn’t care. I wanted to be cured. Seeing scars and blood streaming down my face was a horrific sight to me and it was getting difficult to hide it from others. I felt like a monster. I knew I was already depressed by the time I took the drug, but to this day, I’m not sure if the drug sent me beyond the depression I already had and made me start cutting. How people bullied me in my preteen years and how I couldn’t connect with people well made me feel alone. The fact that I would go home to an empty house everyday didn’t help either. It did however make cutting much easier for me to do. I was one of those people that had an imaginary friend for a while. I used my imagination a lot to keep myself occupied because I didn’t have cable tv, internet, nor many video games. It was actually quite fun at times though. In the midst of a lot of solitary time, I started to develop a different way of thinking. I thought of ways to change myself so I could be accepted by others. I was overweight so I figured by losing weight, people would like me more. I went to great lengths to drop the pounds. On some days, I would just eat one thing: a sandwich. Some days I wouldn’t eat anything at all. I’d exercise at least twice a day for a few hours. The consequences of doing this made me have very dark circles around my eyes, long periods of drowsiness, and I’d have the most horrible headaches for weeks at a time. The headaches were so bad that it was hard to walk or open one of my eyes. My body ached all the time but my stomach was the worst. Every blue moon, I would get this excruciating pain in my stomach that would come about every 30 seconds. This would last for over a week then it would go away. This has happened about 3 times in my life so far. I started going to a military academy by age 11. The environment became so stressful to me that I would only sleep just for a few hours. Before going off to class on some mornings I would stare out of my window before sunrise. It was just something great about staring at the peaceful clouds scattered across the dark blue sky. I wished I had peace like that. This is when I was starting to love nature. Being outside in solitude brought me comfort because I could feel God’s presence. Its hard to explain but once I was engulfed in sunshine, I didn’t feel alone anymore.
During the ages of 12, 13, and 14, I became very skinny. But the over-exercising didn’t stop there. I did make a few friends during those years but we departed for various reasons. They’d either grow apart from me or relocate. I started to have anxiety attacks for the first time at 14 and that’s when the cutting began. The first few times I was afraid to do it. The very first time I saw blood come out of my arms was scary. I didn’t know if it was going to stop bleeding. It eventually did. As time passed, cutting became easier to do. Instead of slowly digging into my arm, I’d slash it fast and didn’t care where on my arm that I had cut. I began experimenting with cutting around my wrist a couple times. I didn’t want to die. I did it for a rush, something new. I had a dozen scars on the inner part of my left arm. Since I didn’t hang around people much, was an only child, and my mom was gone a lot, nobody ever saw the scars. I’m grateful now that I never struck a nerve or caught an infection. I used a long kitchen knife. I never even thought about the types of bacteria that could’ve been on the blade. It was definitely a knife for cutting raw meat. People knew something was bothering me deep within. My eyes always told my story. There would either be a long-lasting scowl on my face or a frown. I never noticed it but others would always point it out. Maybe when I saw myself in the mirror I would get more self-conscious and would immediately straighten my face. Who knows? I just never saw myself like that. Although I hardly looked in mirrors either because I hated the way I looked. For instance, after washing my face, I would instantly sink my face in the towel because I didn’t want to look into the mirror right in front of me. Sometimes I’d see blood on the towel. I didn’t take pictures or appear in videos. I have little captured memories of my teenage years. Tired from the stress of going to a military oriented school, I convinced my mom to get me transferred to a regular school by my sophomore year. One day I decided to bring my knife to school. I hid it deep within one of my binders that were inside of my book bag. I was confident that the security guard wouldn’t find it while checking my things because she’d normally move along fast to get to all of the rushing morning entrants. I kept the knife in my book bag throughout my classes. During lunch, I went to my usual spot: the balcony on the second floor. I’d sit there alone and reflect on things while staring out of the window. On this particular day, my friend Tab decided to join me sitting there. After talking briefly, I got the courage to show her the scars on my left arm that were hidden beneath my long sleeve shirt. She immediately stood on her feet and cried out to God. I was very surprised by her reaction because I never saw that side of her before. She wasn’t a religious person. Tab asked me if I had the knife with me. I showed it to her and she broke down. When the school day was over and everyone was heading out the building, I saw a small group standing at the exit door. It was my friend Tab, my 3 other friends that I met through her, and a faculty member. The faculty member was actually the school counselor whom I never met before. She escorted me into her office. I saw the sad faces of my 4 friends before she closed the door. When I sat down she questioned me about having a knife. I hesitated to reveal it because I knew bringing a knife of that caliber would result in an expulsion. After staring at the floor for a while, I got the guts to answer truthfully. She replied saying that she already knew. I realized that my friends gave her my story. I thought that from this point the course of our convo would be about what legal consequences were ahead of me, but instead, she gave me advice about depression. The counselor talked about how her daughter was taking anti-depressants and was seeking therapy. She wanted me to do the same. I never did because I didn’t believe pills or therapy sessions could cure me. I instead suppressed my feelings because the things I were doing and ways I were feeling weren’t brought up much in the Black community. I didn’t want to feel like I was even more of an outsider by speaking about them. As of matter of fact, I would even hear people laugh about such techniques to cure depression. Another reason why I kept quiet was because when I researched everything I was going through on the internet, there was nothing but stories of White females. It was embarrassing and emasculating because I knew people would judge me harshly from this. Its like the whole world saw these issues based on one demographic. A Black dude from the hood had to have been the most unlikely person to go through these things. This would be my first and last meeting with the counselor. I’ve always had a high GPA in schools until I sank into sorrow. I nearly had straight As every year. This new school put me out after flunking all of my classes except two. I was kept from auditorium sessions and field trips for having several Fs at this school. Others that had low grades like me were put in a room toward the back of the school. I used this time to do work, draw, write poetry, and write stories. I actually enjoyed it because it reminded me of the things I used to do as a small child. Only one other high school in my region accepted me after my poor grades. After transferring, my depression became dormant. I stopped cutting by age 16. I ended up graduating high school on time by going to multiple other places for night school and summer school. This was to make up for my failed classes. I still kept to myself. I spent my lunches at the library or in the band room. I never wanted to go the cafeteria because I didn’t like being around large groups. I figured the more people I was around, the more likely it would be for me to run into ridicule. This mindframe would eventually lead me to avoiding large groups of people wherever I went. At church, I became an usher so I wouldn’t have to be part of the congregation. I knew that the same type of people I dealt with at school were also in the church. I eventually worked in the sound booth by myself so I could be in total isolation. After a year from doing that, I stopped going altogether. My church became very divided anyway after scandal and our pastor left. I remember attending a church meeting and it was sad to see the people arguing back and forth like madmen. I lost the foundation I had as a child.
After all the bullying, exclusion, & people departing from me, I wanted to be accepted again. When the cutting stopped, the mentality of self harm only manifested in other things. I no longer knew how to channel my anger so anxiety attacks began again at age 20. It was mostly at home. I found myself shaking very hard, jumping out of my seat in anger, having dozens of thoughts per second, and many sleepless nights to say the least. To be accepted, I would give more than I would normally give and be of service to people more than I would do for myself. My final breaking point was when I found myself hanging on a 3 story apartment complex rooftop, on a fire escape ladder, trying to break in a friends apartment to get her back inside. I could’ve died. This was a prime example of the risks I would take to for people to like me. There’s way more to the story on my own blog. Cutting was something I did to channel my anger: mostly the angry feelings I had toward myself. I let the words and actions from others make me hate myself. I hated the way I thought. I hated the way I looked. I hated how I had very little common with the people around me. And they taunted me because of it. The taunting wasn’t just from people I was forced to associate with at school, it was also from strangers at other public places. At 21, I finally went to a doctor about it and he said I had ADHD. He gave me months worth of capsules of Straterra. This time I didn’t take the medication because I knew my bond with God was strong enough to get me through my situation. And indeed it did prevail. Accutane was pulled from the market in 2009. It was removed because of the amount of money they were having to spend to defend themselves from claims that Accutane caused patients to develop Crohn‘s Disease. There is speculation that Roche removed Accutane because they feared new studies would show a causal relationship between Accutane and depression/suicide. Different law firms have created commercials reach those who want to place a lawsuit against the company.
This was my past and I’ve changed my life around at 22 by getting to know God better. He is truly all that I need. I know that there are people that will still judge me to this day because of everything I’ve done. Some of the same people that tell me to leave it in the past often bring up my past and use it against me. To this day, I still get judged by the way I look. Its not so much in the context of beauty, but in the context of how I don’t look like the person they expect to see based on my character and experiences. I’m used to it now. All of my arm scars have cleared and most of the scars on my face are gone. No pictures, no videos. What I have left is memories in my head that I want to tell my story with. I want to tell my story so that those who are like me will know that they’re not alone."
*Me-"Wow...that is, so deep. Made me teary eyed.
Well, you've definitely been through a lot! And I'm terribly sorry that you've had to go through it all. But, I have a question if I may ask. You're mother, did she ever notice anything? Try and comfort you? And, what about ur father? Was he ever in the picture?"
*D. J Preston- "My mom almost found out when she saw part of my arm one day. I told her it was from accidentally scratching my arm up on a fence. I revealed the truth to her just two weeks ago though. I think she's still letting the idea settle in her head but she took it well. My dad was an alcoholic and used to hit my mom. They split when I was 5."
*Me-"Oh dear.
I'm sorry...What about your friends? Did they ever notice anything else? Like, did they ever confront you again?"
*D. J Preston-"Its ok. Once I left the school that put me out, my buds and I grew apart. They probably questioned me a few more times but I can't remember since it was so long ago. I ran into Tab a few times since then, but we never talk about anything that happened sophomore year. I think its kinda embarrassing for both of us."
*Me-"Well, also shocking.
And ur life now, how has life been treating you now?"
*D. J Preston-"Thanks for asking! :) Life has been good. I still struggle with loneliness and irrelevance sometimes but its nothing like it used to be. It helps when I talk to God or go out on my own. I started taking myself out to dinner and going to different events. I'm finishing up college and looking forward to do some traveling."
*Me-"That sounds good
Is there anything you'd like the readers to know?"
*D. J Preston-" Yes. I believe everything happens for a reason. You wont have a testimony if you don't first go through the test. You wont have a message if you first don't go through the mess. I believe my hurt and pain helped me not become a product of my environment. I look at some of the people that bullied and taunted me and today they are a mess. Its ironic because they have so many issues and problems. Also, a great amount of the time I was alone I fell in love with composing songs. I've had opportunities to work with Disney on the Hannah Montana series, Spike TV, and I'm currently a composer for the NBA (National Basketball Association). I do music for their website and commercials. I just scored my first independent film last month. I wouldn't have met all the great people and obtain these jobs if I didn't go through the pain of my childhood. "
*Me-"That sounds so great. Your becoming famously known.
The film, what's the name of it?"
*D. J Preston-"Thank you. Its called The Swing Set. Its not a big release but I know one day I'll work my way up to that level of film. I'm not all about fame though. If the fame comes, I want people to just be inspired by my story. I'm never a braggart and into much self-indulgence. I even got rid of my website that I started, my MySpace, and my Facebook fan page. I can't take credit for anything that God has done for me. God will send for the right people to hear my message. I don't have to become a product of pop-culture to do so but if that's His plan, I'm down for it. I just want to live my life how anyone else would. Eventually I will have a more stable career, a new home, a wife, children, and a garden. Gotta have the garden. I love nature haha."
*Me-"Aw, that's so sweet.
Sounds like you have a good life now. After all you've went through, you deserve it.
Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
*D. J Preston-"Yes. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be part of your blog!"
*Me- "Well, actually thank YOU for sharing such a deep, moving story. I wouldn't be able to share mine without freaking out.
So thank you, means a lot to me and my readers."--
D. J Preston has been through hell and back. But with the help of God, managed to find the light within the dark. I don't think I've ever read or heard a story such as this one. A story that ends with the help of God. It's a true miracle and shows proof that all is possible, with the help of God Himself.
If you or anyone you know self-harms, is depressed, or thinking about suicide, I urge you to PLEASE either contact your local hospital, call 911, or contact the suicide prevention hotline.
Self-Injury Hotline
SAFE (Self Abuse Finally Ends) Alternatives Program
www.selfinjury.com
1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288)
National Adolescent Suicide Hotline
800-621-4000
Boys Town National Hotline
1-800-448-3000
http://www.eliteskills.com/teen_cutting/hotlines.php
I would like to thank D. J Preston for sharing his story. I'm very honored and, I wish the best for him in life.
~Bella~
