Monday, October 10, 2016

A Frightening Freedom

Good evening all, and happy Monday! So I don't have a whole lot to say today, but I recently wrote a memoir for my English class and I thought I'd share it with you. If some of the lines sound familiar, it's probably because I pulled some of it from my blog :) Anyways, here you go:

Nobody told me that growing up would bring so much change, accompanied by pain. On some days, I wish endlessly to relive the simplicity of my childhood. Smiles, laughter and endless fun occupied sunny days, and in the eyes of a child, life was perfect. The abrupt shift in my life, from childhood to adolescence, brought brokenness, unanswered questions and a sense of self-hate. During the beginning of my battle with depression, I was determined to find my own answers by giving up, and giving in to a frightening freedom known as suicide.

At ten years old, the term “suicide” was defined for me in a shadowy grade school classroom. My classmates and I learned about bullying and how sometimes it hurt people to the point where they chose to take their own life. As naive children, it was impossible for us to fathom. Years passed, and questions stormed into my mind. Why didn’t my biological parents love me like they were supposed to? Why was my heart feeling so void? Life continued to spiral downwards as I faced bullying, pressure from my biological family, and the death of my grandmother.

As if I hadn’t been tossed around enough, the devil took a big swing at my family, and knocked me down even further. My parents’ marriage shattered at the blink of an eye and my heart burned with anger. If life was a card game, I kept getting dealt a bad hand. I begged and pleaded God to remove me from this situation. His silence frustrated me because I needed answers immediately. I decided that if God wasn’t going to help me, I was going to have to help myself.

The warm summer day rolled into a cool evening and I formed a barely breathing figure on my bed. Voices in my head continued to hiss at me and remind me how much I was hurting. My body ached from the inside and I forced myself to remember to breathe. The world was dark whether my eyes were open or not. Convinced life was no longer worth my time, I slowly limped down the stairs of my house. My leg throbbed, and I could almost feel the cold, sharp blade against my upper thigh again. I recalled a few nights before sitting in the shower, letting my tears mix with the water. I inflicted physical pain upon myself, in hopes of the emotional pain subsiding. My body, on autopilot, reached the bottom of the stairwell and I stared at the ghost in the mirror that faced me. Anxiety had worn my body down to virtually skin and bones, and utter sadness sat where my sparkling eyes once shined with happiness. I trudged slowly to the bathroom, wondering how many more minutes until my heart stopped beating.

I remembered the notebook upstairs under my bed. Its pages were stained with tears and ink that somehow spelled out handfuls of apologies for what I was about to do. Before I knew it, the bathroom door had quietly been shut by my trembling hands. I reached for the medicine cabinet and took out as many medications as I could find. I popped open the first bottle with ease and slowly poured its content into my greedy hands. An internal battle pierced my soul but I was determined to leave the pain behind. The demons that filled my mind kept drowning me with lies and I felt eager to cave. My fingers quivered as I ran them slowly over the poisonous caplets of freedom, and I counted them slowly, one by one. Deep in my heart, I knew this wasn’t what I wanted, but the abyss in my mind had convinced me otherwise. A monster, known as depression, was living inside me under the control of Satan. Tears blurred my vision and I heard a voice as clear as day, ring from the depths of my heart, “Marissa, my child, you are loved.” The voice faded and I found myself wishing it would return. Immediately, my mother entered the bathroom just in time to tear the bottle from my hands.
In the following weeks, she made me sleep in her room, all medications were removed from the house, and I wasn’t let out of anyone’s sight. I’d be lying if I said that this was my only attempt, or the end of my depression. Unfortunately, I face my own set of challenges on a daily basis. Some days, I feel so crippled I cannot perform basic functions such as doing homework, interacting with others, or taking care of myself. Days still come around when I sit on the bathroom tile just to remind myself that I can feel the cold.

While God never promised me that life was going to be easy, He did promise me that I’ll never have to face it alone. He sent me wonderful people to look after me and love me when I get tired of fighting. Most importantly He sent me His Son so that someday, in His timing, I can rest in eternal paradise. When I face the shadows of depression, I can rest assured in the fact that Christ beholds peace, comfort, forgiveness, everlasting love, and a freedom that is much better than my own.

So much love & thanks,
Marissa Mayer

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