It hurt. I remember that it hurt. I would wake up and lay in my bed as I thought how my phone wouldn’t be answered, my stomach wouldn’t be fed, my hair wouldn’t be washed, my life wouldn’t be lived. They always said, “Be grateful”, but how could I be great if I knew I wasn’t. I took it as a literal term, to be grateful. Whenever someone told me that, all I could see was my body thinned and toned, my face pure and markless, my smile glorious and grand, my life happy and fulfilling. I knew they meant I should be thankful for my life, but I wasn’t. For a very long time, depression ate me alive. And I loved it, because I thought that was the only thing that desired me, craved me, wanted me. My freshmen year of high school was a blur because I
…show more content…
I felt like everything became routine, there was nothing to be excited about. I’d get up, go to school, go home, and go to bed. There were some good days, such as football game Friday’s, homecoming, Christmas break, and unexpected school closings. But in general, I felt like a caged animal; stuck in a small space and not being able to be happy and free. I relied on sneaking out and making bad choices to be my dosage of freedom, but it was never truly fun. In the moment, I felt invisible and oblivious to danger and priorities, but the every morning after, my heart sunk deeper and deeper each …show more content…
Her eyes glossed and I could see her complexion whiten as if she was going to throw up. She looked at me the way a child looks at a puppy at the store after their parent tells them they can’t get it. She touched my hand with hers. They were so thin and cold, it felt like she had put her hand in a pile of snow and was relying on mine for warmth and comfort. She did not say a word after I showed her my sadness on my skin, instead she drove 60 mph all the way to Wood County Hospital to figure out where she needed to take me to help me cope with my depression. The nurses cleaned my wounds, bandaged them properly and insisted I’d be taken to the CRC in Bowling Green. We immediately left and within 10 minutes, we pulled into the parking lot. When we got there, it smelled like freshly picked strawberries. Every time I took a step, I kept inhaling a beautiful scent that tickled my nose and filled my body with a bright and delicate feeling. After I talked to a nice lady named Jen, she decided I should be put on Zoloft, a depression and anxiety medicine to help control my emotions. The following Thursday, I took my first
I felt like everything became routine, there was nothing to be excited about. I’d get up, go to school, go home, and go to bed. There were some good days, such as football game Friday’s, homecoming, Christmas break, and unexpected school closings. But in general, I felt like a caged animal; stuck in a small space and not being able to be happy and free. I relied on sneaking out and making bad choices to be my dosage of freedom, but it was never truly fun. In the moment, I felt invisible and oblivious to danger and priorities, but the every morning after, my heart sunk deeper and deeper each …show more content…
Her eyes glossed and I could see her complexion whiten as if she was going to throw up. She looked at me the way a child looks at a puppy at the store after their parent tells them they can’t get it. She touched my hand with hers. They were so thin and cold, it felt like she had put her hand in a pile of snow and was relying on mine for warmth and comfort. She did not say a word after I showed her my sadness on my skin, instead she drove 60 mph all the way to Wood County Hospital to figure out where she needed to take me to help me cope with my depression. The nurses cleaned my wounds, bandaged them properly and insisted I’d be taken to the CRC in Bowling Green. We immediately left and within 10 minutes, we pulled into the parking lot. When we got there, it smelled like freshly picked strawberries. Every time I took a step, I kept inhaling a beautiful scent that tickled my nose and filled my body with a bright and delicate feeling. After I talked to a nice lady named Jen, she decided I should be put on Zoloft, a depression and anxiety medicine to help control my emotions. The following Thursday, I took my first