My Story Not Yet Complete

I am 14 years old. I have become friends with the monster. He tells me my body is a bit pudgy in certain areas. He tells me that they will pay attention to me if they can see me losing weight and counting calories. He is telling me all the things wrong with me that drove away my friends. This monster is ever present in my mind as the scale looms. He is holding my hand on the way to class. He is whispering lies in my ear as I speak with peers. He is telling me over and over again that I am unworthy of love. He likes to isolate me, you see. Hey, hey, but it’s okay. He is a jealous friend. He desires me all for himself. One on one relationships are better for us anyway right?

When I am 15 1/2 I think that the monster has been put to rest. I am going on dates and kissing boys. Yet I remember a not so far away time of kisses shared with the same sex and I am confused. My faithful friend comes back and tells me to fake it with boys. The result is a kiss in a tree with a friend/enemy watching from the ground, cheering on my humiliation; the result is an emptiness and a lack of knowledge of what love truly is and can be.

I am 17 and the dancing queen-except I am the unwanted burden of a daughter; the trophy daughter that did not recieve the trophy. I am kicked out and pulled back in. I am at last the one thing that no one wanted. The monster comes back to tell me it is all my fault. The monster is back to whisper that I am unloveable, I am a dark cloud, I am a failure, I am a stray dog that they took in for charity yet realized they don’t like dogs much later. I am the extra fat that they could use to trim off.

I am 18 and alone in a new city with no one who knows my name. It’s me against the world. I have no friends for I am in a place where the familiar is no longer a thing on my radar; I have become a constant adventurer. I have a hard time trusting that the phrases that people say are just words; I have a hard time believing that people do not have a hidden agenda. I am consistently asking God why no one loves me. I am hearing the whispers of the monster that I am better off alone. I am feeling the spiraling not-so-soft pull of feelings of inadequacy and dreams of failures at events that have yet to occur. I am a displaced individual adrift the comments and feelings that others may or may not mean with malice.

I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am the warrior princess. I am Leslie Knope. I am Rapunzal. I am Sleeping Beauty. I am my own Prince. The monster is now a dragon that has grown so huge I cannot take it on by myself anymore. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am learning that asking for help is a good sign. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am a student of healing now. I am growing from who I once was. My old friend has finally been slayed.

“The enemy is dead-and we have killed him.”

Cheers to a lifetime of depression. Cheers to a life left to live in freedom.

I am the burning bush. I may be rough around the edges and scratch and burn if you come too close to the core. But inside of me God is speaking. Don’t be afraid. Don’t run away. Don’t give up on me just yet.

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Night Time Toast

Here’s to you, here’s to me,

Here’s to us and all that means,

Here’s to the girl who is all alone,

Here is to the child newly grown,

Raise this one to all the teens crying,

Raise it higher for the quite ones sighing,

Sing this out for us who stay up late,

Who were offered love but never took the bait,

So, yeah. Cheers to us, to us who fell out,

Who never knew what that was all about,

Cheers to me, who has yet to see,

What it means to truly love, live, dream, and be.

The Isolated Castle

“Let go Mike.”

“You can’t do this, Lauren!”

Defiantly, she ripped away her hand and with it her gentle tone. “I said let go, Mike. I need to go.”

“Please. Please don’t leave me again. I need an anchor, someone to hold me down, keep me stable. I need you.” Reaching out for her, the isolated island she had become, he gently caressed her wrist.

She pulled her wrist back. “You don’t need me. You need to stay the hell away from me. I’m not going to stay here waiting for the pain and loneliness that is the inevitable companion of love.”

“No, Lauren. I’m not going to leave you! You are the one pulling away from me. I keep reaching for you and I can see the flicker of desire in your eyes if for only a moment. But then the flood of memories of the past is projected onto me. I’m constantly competing with the guys who hurt you. I’m here and now and real and I love you Lauren.”

“Lies.” She whispered, but even as the words floated from her throat she stopped believing it. She leaned into him, crying softly, and he wrapped his arms around her as he sighed in relief. “I’m sorry they hurt, left, and broke you Lauren. But I’m determined not to. Let me in. Let me love you.”

And in that moment, the moat that kept out his love was destroyed, and the castle was taken over with a flood of love.

Sink or Swim

When I was little, even now, I had an almost innate desire for water. My favorite movie was The Little Mermaid, going to the lake was a trip to heaven, and bath time lasted hours. I always loved things associated with the ocean also. In the Titanic the saddest part of the movie was the most memorable due to the water surrounding them, and perhaps that was the first time I realized water isn’t always a good thing.

They say depression is like drowning, only you watch everyone around you breathing. Drowning is almost beautiful, if you look at someone right about to rise to the surface and realize how simple it would be to never come back up, to remain in the water and breathe your last. The key though, is almost. The cruel reality of death hits quite suddenly and all you need is air. Clawing and clinging and grasping for that one breath takes every ounce of energy in your body. The climax of your life is in that moment, and it feels like you are born for the first time with that first breath above the surface, and the rest has passed away. Maybe that’s why the illistration for Christianity is baptism.

Depression is mind blowing in a literal sense. As the example of water above implies, you feel alone. Rose said it best in the Titanic when she said “I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even stands up.” How breath takingly devestating! No one even wants to recognize your sadness because they are afraid of it. People try out stupidity and say they understand, and everything will be alright. I want to scream at them “LIES. You don’t even know me, let alone understand me; no one does. Everyone who has ever uttered the three worded curse to me has left. I am completely alone. I’m unable to enjoy your company because I’m waiting for your impending departure.” I whisper instead thank you, and walk away with a smile; more accurately a grimace-I’ve forgotten what a genuine smile looks like.

Many people say love is what is most needed by people. But to me, recognition is so much more desired. People are remembered when recognized in the navy, loved and respected when brought to attention. The shadow creatures are forgotten and left to fend for themselves. I wish this wasn’t how it was, but it is. I’ve broken my own soul in pieces because I shared my feelings, dreams, and secrets with each of the supposed faces composed of trust. I didn’t realize that I was talking to a superficial mask: a liar, self-protector, and a stealer of my love. I’ve said it before, but I don’t want to fall in love, because it turns out that no one ever catches me. I’m just one of those people everyone enjoys leaving; I guess my job is to be the jester, entertainer of others at my own expense, clothed in self hatred, even though I never signed up for any of this.

I’d rather drown in the sea then continue to be me for your enjoyment and use.

So leave me be.