Depths from the Past - Part 2

The Depression

I was horribly and utterly confused. I took it out on everyone – my parents, my older brother, and my little sister. I threatened to run away. I took all of my belongings to the basement and demanded my own space, one place of my own that is not allowed to be shared with my sister. I craved independence for the wrong reasons then.

I straightened my hair every day. I bought makeup and practiced with it. A lot. I listened to loud obnoxious music with lyrics that scared the hell out of my parents. I fell into a depression so deep that Alice in Wonderland could not find a hole that fell equally as far. I wanted nothing to do with my family. I kept quiet in the car, only answering to questions with one word responses. I tried to hurt myself and others.

I found ways to do the easiest damage to myself without the scars. I thought to cut myself but did not want the mess. I cut my hair short and spray painted it with different colors. I wore inappropriate clothes that made me look like a baggy gangster instead of a slut. I wore hats and fell in love with the color black.

I wrote horrifying poetry that was deep, graphic, and painful. I cried all the time and I had emotional breakdowns every other week. I did not fit in anywhere and I hated it. I was alone in a very neutral zone. I had crushes on guys but got over them. I pushed friends away and lost more. Only three close girl friends stuck by me.

I dreamed of dying, all the ways I could go. I dreamed of watching everyone at my funeral and wondered how they would react to seeing my lifeless, pale body in a six foot box. I dreamed of too-late compliments from kids in my class, flowers from family members, and even cards addressed to me. I thought about the pictures my parents would put around the funeral parlor and how many people there would be. Maybe there would be none at all.

I wanted the pain because it made me numb. I was lost. I was the only one and it was not fair at all. I ate less and cried more. I turned up the volume on my scream music and ignored my family. I read and wrote dangerously and lived freely. I was not tied down, but at the same time I wanted to be. I did not want to be loved, but I actually did. I was a confused adolescent who craved attention but was afraid of admitting my failure and defeat. I did not want another reminder that I was a bad person, that I was not good enough, that I could not live up to the standards of the people around me.

Those years were the worst. I created an imaginary hell hole for myself.

But they were also a turning point in my life, as well as many other experiences I have had and will have in the future. Those years were also the best years. I understood who my best friends were, girls I still keep in close contact with to this day. I was accepted to a private Catholic all-girls high school that I loved. Even though there were more difficult decisions ahead, I changed. I graduated 8^th grade with a couple of awards. I completed my final basketball season and started thinking about the possibilities of high school.

Fact: I want to change and start over. I want a new life.