Carpet. Stained, crumb-filled,
repulsive school carpet. And I had my face on it. Curled into the fetal
position – except sideways – cheek rubbing against the rough material. I’ve
found myself in this position many times. Warm tears staining my face, my mind
rejects everything good. I feel worthless, hopeless. Nothing, nobody can save
me. I spend increasing amounts of time shut up in the administrator’s offices –
always crying and lying on the floor, always breaking down. Unable to breathe,
to think – scared that I’ll never feel this “happiness.” Noticing how each day
becomes darker as I am swallowed into this void: depression.
They say that one can’t understand something
until they experience it themselves. I’ve found this true with depression.
Nobody can realize everything it entails until they are forced into the anguish
of it all. Nothing could have prepared me for the constant bombardment of
self-hate, the inability to sleep or eat or learn, the overwhelming physical
and emotional pains. Every day was a new fight: a new battle in the war for my
life. But through all of this hurt there was a light. I couldn’t see where it
was coming from, but I reached for it with all my remaining strength. Boy, did
I reach. I climbed, doing my best to force every step in the right direction.
Therapy, medication, positive thinking – I did everything I could to pull
myself out.
Nowadays, I’m nowhere near where as
low as I used to be. I’m generally a much happier person with a more positive
outlook. It’s hard to believe that someone can gain so many positive things
from such a negative experience, but I have. I’ve learned how strong I am. I
see now that I can do even the impossible. I’ve found a support system of
beautiful people who pick me up when I crash to the ground. I’ve learned more
about what is important to me by looking at what pulled me through on the
scariest days. I am much better than many of my peers at looking at the good
side of things. I’m not saying I’m perfect – in fact, I’m far from it. My
depression is still here, it hasn’t disappeared. It still haunts me in ways
nothing other than depression could. But now I know that I am a fighter, and
that I can battle against any pain in my life. Believe it or not, even laying
on disgusting school carpet can teach life lessons.
I love how you pair fairly lofty abstractions (eloquently conveyed, by the way) with very concrete, minute details. It's a great way to connect the mental to the physical, and it's woven through the piece quite beautifully. You're a wonderful writer, nice job!
ReplyDeleteAhhh, thank you, Alec! It's my first draft, so I wasn't really sure how it would go over. Thanks for the feedback. If you have any suggestions, I'm glad to take them!
ReplyDeleteadministrators' not administrator's offices
ReplyDeleteThey say that people (not one) can’t understand something until they experience it themselves.
Nowadays, I’m nowhere near where as low as I used to be. Nowadays, I'm nowhere near as low as I used to be (?)
My depression is still here; (not ,) it hasn’t disappeared.
lying (not laying) on disgusting school carpet
The essay captured the pathos and the hopefulness altogether. Very well done.
When I read this the first time I thought it was powerful. Reading it again, I also think you have managed to make serious (clinical?) depression much more real for those of us who are subject only to various lesser states of so-called depression. One thought that occurred to me was that this might be a topic you could fruitfully explore further here, e.g. a series of essays covering different aspects of this. Ways to help people who are depressed. Ways to explain it to those ignorant of it. Ways depressed people try to help themselves. Etc. Just a possibility, not sure if it makes sense or if you'd want to try it. Secondly, an observation: writing fiction or non-fiction, pace and rhythm are very important but very hard to teach. Changing sentence length to speed and slow the reader's experience. Varying the number of phrases in your sentences, with a bit of randomness, style, and artistry thrown in to keep things going and hold the reader. I keep skimming this to focus on the flow itself, and I think you've done a really good job of that here, probably without even trying. That impresses me. Usually people who are prolific readers are more apt to pick this up and internalize it. Just one reason I think you may have the beginnings of being a "writer." Plus, I think sharing these thoughts and feelings is quite courageous. That's something to hold onto, and to be proud of.
ReplyDelete