Wow, I've never been able to keep up with things like this, but I find myself excited about posting on here. I think getting this all out on paper, or gigabytes I guess, is helping.
My mom picked me up after the basketball game and could instantly tell something was wrong. I told her I'd had a mild panic attack, nothing to worry about and that was it. I didnt tell her why. And I certainly didnt tell her I'd thought about grabbing a police man's gun. I worried her enough, I wasnt going to make it worse. I would deal. (Our house is old. Like really old. When we bought it, it was a tiny two bedroom thing with one bathroom and maybe 900 square feet. We put an addition on and I decided I was a big girl and wanted a room as far away from parents as possible. So my room is literally exactly opposite of my parents in the house now) I was paranoid about being so far away from my parents, my mom was like a relaxant to me. As long as she was near, I was able to stay relatively calm. (Silly I know, but old habits die hard) Which meant, I couldnt sleep in my room. I had to sleep on the living room couch. The worst part was I couldnt be alone. Complete and utter panic would descend upon me if I was ever alone. This was a new concept, because i'd always been the type to enjoy being quietly alone. Not in a depressed way, but quiet usually was my sanctuary when I was tired. Now I needed noise, people, distractions, but too much of it sent me over the edge. I felt like I was playing a dangerous and somewhat deranged game of balance beam. If I was alone too long I went crazy. If I was around too many people I went crazy. It's kind of hard to control your enviornment when your a high school student who's parents refuse to homeschool you. So now I was sleeping on the couch; and by sleeping I mean dozing for maybe two hours at a time to wake up to heart shattering panic, only to calm myself down and start it all over again.
At school, no. one. noticed. Nothing changed. No one asked if I was alright, and I never said anything. There were plenty of times that I just wanted to run screaming from the room and not stop until I couldnt breathe anymore. One friend focused on her studies, one was too into herself to care (I'm going to be speaking alot about this person. She was very religious and would often criticize me for my 'spiritual and improper' beliefs. If I offend anyone with my words I am truly sorry. I know that not all people who put their faith in God are like this, so please don't take it like that) Besides. I knew if I told them, they wouldn't get it. So I stayed quiet. Stayed reliable, stayed obedient. But my grades started dipping and I was losing my appetite. The mere smell of food made me nauseous. I'd been healthy, if not a little chubby before, and now I was losing weight and not in a good way. It started slowly, I'd cut out lunch maybe and then all of a sudden I looked in a mirror and realized I'd lost about thirty pounds. No appetite was another check on that list. At this point, I was making myself depressed. I was reading this checklist and worrying so much about fitting the description of a depressed teenager that I actually was and not noticing it.
It had become such a long term thing at this point I moved into the guest room, which was closer to my parents room. I would sleep in there, get up in the morning and go to my room to get ready for school. It became a tedious routine that I couldnt make myself break. I made my mom swear not to tell any of her friends how far I'd fallen, because I was so embarrassed of myself, I thought people would laugh at me if they knew what was going on in my head. I started working out, hard core. It kept the jitteries away and it kept my focus on something other than depression, but I continued losing weight because I wasnt eating to make up for my punishing workouts.
The therapist was useless. We would sit there for two hours every two weeks and chat. About school, about anything besides what was really bothering me. I never told her about the weight loss. Or the basketball incident, and she didnt ask. Then I would go home with more of her 'advice' shooting around in my head, more things to worry about, which was exactly what I needed.
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