School:Writing Challenge

Picture standing in a black room. Everything you see is black, everything you hear is black, everything you feel is black, even the scent in the air is black. Don’t say that black is only a color. It isn’t anymore. Not right now. The word, depression, so ugly, is written across your skin embedded in every piece of who you are.  Right now your entire existence revolves around nothing. Everything you think and feel and hope is coated in a dark black blanket.

Now imagine yourself falling. Not quickly though, your eyes slowly close, your head tips back, you spread your arms as if preparing to embrace someone, and then your toes are no longer touching the ground. Your heels soon follow. 

For a moment you feel free, possibly a little sleepy, but then there is a pressure beginning in your chest. It builds, increasing to a point where you choke, a point where words fail you and so do the fragile illusions you have created to keep from going under.

 You open your eyes. You’re sitting on the bathroom counter, tweezers in hand. Your eyes shift to your left wrist and you see a sloped line. It looks like a burn, and it hurts. You through the tweezers down and grab some ointment.

Lucky for you, no one suspects a thing. The world keeps spinning and life moves on. Sometimes you forget what happened, but the watch that wraps around the scar can’t hide what did. You know what you did, and you’re glad it scarred. It’s a reminder now. The watch symbolizes that time can heal all wounds, and the scar reminds you that it’s possible to come back from the edge.

I know you can’t see that from the outside. No one can. Sometimes during my day I will find myself in one of the many school bathrooms curled up in a ball somewhere in the corner crying. I’ll also hit something; I’ll punch or kick a wall and welcome the pain that comes with it. I don’t know… it helps me feel grounded. When it gets really bad I’ll sit and stroke the scar on my wrist whispering to myself that it will be ok.

Before that usually happens though, my friends catch me. Madison has been a doll and has lent her shoulder many a time. I try not to let them know. I really hate it when I bother others about my problems. I used to go to a therapist about the issue, but I really, really hated that. I kind of just made everything look super dandy for about a year and finally she let me go.

I go to a specialist about it also, some kind of doctor. I take medicine and get better. Things haven’t gotten that bad in a very long time, but I can still remember every detail. It’s never really truly gone. When I’m sad it’s usually worse than it has to be. Did I mention that I hate it? Because I do, I really do.

I hope that it goes away some day. I hope I grow out of it and never have to look back. I hope that scientists create some sort of antibiotic that will fix what’s wrong with my brain. The chances of that are slim to none though. Strangely, I’m alright with that.

You see, having depression is part of who I am now. Without it I wouldn’t have built up the lengthy patients I have with people now. Because of my condition, I’ve learned to look from every angle of a situation. I never yell at someone without thinking about where they come from. By the time I’ve thought it all out, the moment has passed and I’ve lost my chance to yell. Usually by that time though I’ve been able to think of a way to turn the situation around, I’ll be kind to them, give them a hug if possible and wish them the best of luck with whatever it is that’s going on in their life.

People are mean for one of two reasons, they are just mean people, or they are blowing off steam. Maybe even three reasons! That could have been how they were raised. Without my condition I would never have considered this. I was a hot tempered little girl with a big mouth. Without depression I probably would have hit the person whoever was making me angry.

Now, imagine everything white, imagine grabbing onto a hand. Your grip is weak, but theirs is strong. You are pulled out of the black abyss you had fallen into and now you stand tall. Gods hand is on your shoulder and his love in your heart. You suddenly know things are going to be alright, and you thank your lucky stars that you were able to tough it out, because now your able to share another day with the family you care so much about. Now you know that it’s ok to be happy.