**This is an anonymous guest post. It contains material that some will find distressing.**

If you haven’t yet heard about 13 Reasons Why, it’s a show on Netflix that has the world talking. In 13 episodes, we discover the reasons that led 17-year-old Hannah Baker to commit suicide. It talks about so many important issues that, in my experience, many adults trivialised.

At 31, watching 13 Reasons Why has been too close for comfort. It brought back all those memories and feelings I had as a teenager trying to navigate through life while horrible things kept happening to me.

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Trigger warning: Talks about depression, self-harm and sexual assault.

This is a guest post written by someone who prefers to remain anonymous.

Depression is something I have struggled with for as long as I remember. I think I might have been around 9 when it first started, and when you’re a kid you just get called a sook, a cry-baby or an attention-seeker. I got the same responses into my teen years, when I did speak up and try to get some help.

I was just a kid who had nothing to be depressed about, right?

I remember being in year 6 and so skinny that my hip bones stuck out. I had to wear jeans that were too big just so they would accommodate my protruding bones. I was wearing a ladies size 8 and the kids at school called me fat because I was no longer wearing kid’s sizing. At night, once my family had all gone to bed, I would take a saucepan into the bathroom and repeatedly hit my stomach and hip bones because I believed it would make me skinnier and, therefore, more likable. I know it sounds nuts, but this is how I felt I could deal with it.

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I can’t even count the amount of times I have been guilty of googling my symptoms to try to figure out what is wrong with me. I have bashed my hip on the bench, forgotten that I’ve bashed it, googled the symptoms (pain) and diagnosed myself with secondary cancers. I have had a suspicious looking rash (it was food colouring- forgot I’d used it making play dough) and come up with meningococcal. I’ve even googled my forgetfulness and wondered if I have some kind of early-onset dementia.

So imagine my surprise when I read something on the internet that other people had google-diagnosed me with. An interesting turn of events, right?

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