Everyone was swimming, playing volleyball, sliding down the slide; making wonderful memories under the shining sun. Everyone except for me. Curled into the fetal position on my bedroom floor, I bawled into my sweatpants. This was the beginning of what felt like the end. For weeks I was a lifeless figure. I wore the same clothes for days; sat in the spot for hours staring blankly into nothingness. Constantly shaking with fear and itching with worry, I would randomly burst into tears. I never slept, but felt as if I was chained to my bed, unable to remove myself from the dark hole I was stuck in. My parents became immensely worried and frustrated with their inability to remedy me. They took me to several different doctors and nearly had me sent to an inpatient clinic. I fought them, the doctors, their support, and even …show more content…
I educated myself on how to handle my feelings. In order to decrease my chances of collapsing back into the blackness of depression, I learned how to keep myself optimistic and proud. I gained confidence and put my life into perspective. Currently, I know how to remove myself from harmful situations, keep myself calm in anxious moments, and what methods work to keep me well. This is how I discovered my incredible love for writing. Each day, I would sit down and put my deepest, darkest thoughts onto paper. This was my method of coping with the feelings of anguish and despondency that would take over my mind. After everything that happened and all the strain put on my relationship with my parents, our bonds actually strengthened. They never left my side, even when I wished they would, and I will forever be grateful for their support and love. The most important revelation I became made aware of was one I still think of and remind myself of each and every day: life goes on, and no matter what, you should never give