chapter seven

     I hand Anna my personal ratings sheet on how I've been feeling this past week. She skims it for a quick second and then looks back up at me with a smile on her face.
     "Wow, Grace. Your scores are looking really great this week. If I'm right, this is actually the lowest you've ever rated your week. I think we're making great progress. Lets look at my chart!"
     She rolls on her chair over to her computer and starts looking for my progress chart.
     That can't be right. The last few days have been shit. Maybe it's the new way I'm scoring it... Yea. It must be. A couple of months ago I would have rated this week way higher.
     "See. You started all the way up here and look at where you are today," she said cheerfully pointing at the chart.
     "I think maybe, um, I rated that wrong," I spoke up.
     "Well, what do you mean? Are you saying you scored this wrong?"
     "I- I think. I don't know."
     "Why do you think you scored lower than you should have?"
     "Well, like, um, this week hasn't been all bad. Just the last few days have been kind of rough I guess."
     "Have you been cutting?"
     I hesitated, and then continued, "Yea."
     "Where have you been cutting?"
     "The same place."
     "On your wrist?"
     I nodded.
     "What have you been cutting with? When did you this? How are you cutting?"
     She wants to see it. I know it. She wants to see the cuts. She's pushing me. I know how I was wanting to show her before, but now I'm scared. Look at me. My knees are trembling.
     I unbuttoned the cuff of my left arm and rolled up the sleeve before thinking anymore. I took one glance at my arm and then faced my forearm towards Anna. Red lines, just starting to heal, ran across my naked wrist.
     After a few seconds, I pulled my arm back towards myself and buttoned the cuff of my flannel shirt, hiding the scars back to a place where no one could know they ever existed.
     "Are you having suicidal thoughts?"
     "I... don't know."
     She waited for a real answer.
     "I've kind of been thinking like if I could... Like on Wednesday, I was at the store with my mom and, um, we were in the medicine aisle. I picked up a bottle of Aspirin. My first thought was that I could kill myself with it and a part of me wanted to come back and buy it because of that. I didn't though. But, um, then yesterday, my mom gave me a bottle of pain relievers, because I had a headache. I sat at my desk and the thoughts came back. I poured out quite a few pills into my hand and just sat there for a bit. I was contemplating. But I was then called by mom to come to the kitchen, so I put the pills back in the bottle and that was it."
     Silence.
     "Grace, this really concerns me. I'm starting to think you might need to stay here overnight."
     "No. I'm sorry, no, I'm fine. I wasn't going to do anything, I swear."
     "I don't know if I can trust you, Grace. At the very least we need to talk to one, if not both, of your parents right now. Is your mom or dad here in the waiting room?"
     "No. My mom left to take my brother to a lesson in Clayton. I am supposed to meet them at my mom's work afterwards."
     "Well, I don't know if it would be the smartest idea for me to be letting you leave this building. I'm going to need to call your mom to come down here and let her know of what's going on and consider the possibility of keeping you here for the next 72 hours."
     Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh fuck. Why did I even say anything?! Shit.
     She dials my mom's cell phone number and puts the phone call on speaker.
     It rings five or so times.
     "Hello?"

{Days like these aren't easy. I can find just about every reason to give up. The only thing keeping me going are these two words: Stay Strong. I must stay strong, because one day things will be better. Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or next year. But someday. #staystrong #fighter #reminder}

chaptersix

        "Hey baby girl," said Jordan, a senior I became good friends with this school year.
        "Oh, hey! What's up?"
        "Not too much! Hey, um, I have to go, but stay here after school, kay? Okay. I'm going to be late for class! Bye!" She then kissed me on the cheek, and ran out of the music room before I could answer.
        My last class went by pretty slow. My teacher decided to play a movie about a musician. It was more of a love story than anything, but that's okay I need a little break. There's just too much going on in my head right now, and I really don't need anymore stress or pressure in my life.
        Once class ended, students from other classes came in to pick up their instruments. I started to grow nervous as time passed. Every time the door opened I anxiously looked over to see if it was her.
        What could she possibly want me to stay here for? Was it the photo I posted late last night? I didn't really post anything that could be that big of a deal. It's not like I haven't done it before. Does she want to talk to me about it? Or does she just want to tell me something silly to lighten my mood? Oh gosh. Hurry up, Jordan, before I drive myself crazy.
        The door opened again, and I turned my head to check as she walked inside the classroom.
        "Hey! You waited!"
        "But of course," I said as she walked up to me to give me a hug.
        "Hey, so what's going on? Are you okay?"
        I knew it. It was the picture.
        "Oh um, I don't know. I've just been having a tough time lately, but I'll be fine."
        "Follow me," she said as she took my hand and walked across the classroom toward the private practice room area.
        She took me into the first practice room. It had a window pointing towards the hallway we just came from, a couple of chairs, and an old piano. She sat down in one of the chairs, so I followed.
        "Grace, what's going on," she asked again.
        "I just uh, I just have a lot going on. It's nothing really," my voice cracked slightly and my heart started to beat faster.
        "Are you and your boyfriend doing okay?"
        "Oh yea, we're doing good."
        "Is anyone hurting you or doing anything to you?"
        "No. No, not at all."
        "Is everything okay at home?"
        "Yea."
        "Is it school?"
        My heart stopped. I looked at her, and tried to respond. I couldn't speak though. Tears were starting to build up in my eyes.
        "It is. Aw, Grace. What classes?"
        I tried to speak clearly, but my throat was stinging, "Pre-Calculus and Physics. Mostly those."
        "Aww, I know. Those classes are tough, but so are you."
        I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. It was too much to deal with. I couldn't keep fighting. Tears started slipping from my eyes. I no longer had control.
        "Aw, Grace. Come here," she stood up, and pulled me up with her.
        "Come here baby girl, come here," she whispered. She wrapped her arms around me, and held me tight.
        "Let it out. Just let it out. It's okay, just let it out," she breathed just barely loud enough for me to hear. I started to cry harder. My chest shook uncontrollably and I cried into her shoulder as everything started to overwhelm my mind again.
        I hate my life. I live in my own private hell created just for me to suffer in until the day I die. Nobody knows the pain I go through everyday. School stress is just the beginning of it. There's so much more though, and nobody really knows. Not even the girl who is here holding me tight while I'm crying hysterically. She doesn't know. She doesn't know that I have been fighting depression for over a year now, that sometimes the voices of the kids who had bullied me still ring in my ear, that I canceled my appointment with that eating disorder specialist, that my eating disorder is getting worse and worse, that I was the one who put those scars on my body, that I was the one who wished I never even existed in the first place, that I wanted so bad to step in front of that speeding car the other day and end it all. She doesn't know. Nobody does.

        The door cracked open. It was Monica and Rachel.
        "She'll be okay," Jordan ensured while caressing my hair.
        The door closed, and I closed my eyes again.
        Monica and Rachel wrapped there arms around me then too. This made me start crying a little harder again.
        "We love you, Gracie," Monica said so sweetly, like she always did.
        Once my crying subdued, and my breathing slowed they let go. I was to embarrassed to look at them directly with my red eyes and dried tears on my face though.
        "Everything will be okay, okay? I promise they will be. I know it's tough right now, but you will get through it," Jordan reminded me.
        I nodded, and managed to smile a little. The three of them continued to talk to me, and make little jokes to change the mood.
        When Monica and Rachel left, Jordan turned to me again.
        "Grace, I want you to know that you can always talk to me no matter what. Also, I want you to know that stress over school isn't worth it. I know it's harsh, but some people don't make it through college... nor the rest of their lives due to it. Don't let it control you. Don't let it make you want to do that to yourself."
        I nodded, but kept silent. If only she knew how many times I'd wanted my life to end.
        "I'm here for you always, Grace. I know, everyone seems to say that, but I truly am. If you don't believe me, I will make you a promise. I promise you that no matter what I will call you every night to make sure you're doing okay."
        She stuck out her pinky, and wrapped it around mine.
        "I promise you that."

chapterfive

        "I don't know, I guess just being there, and doing those things can be triggering. That's I guess really why it is so hard for me to go there," I told Anna about my recent trip to my grandparents house.

        "What things?"

        I shrugged, "I don't know."

        She watched me quietly. She wanted an answer. I think she truly hates it when I try to brush things off by saying that I don't know.

        "Pretending to be happy, going to church, laying in the dark for hours since they go to sleep so early, talking about what's new with me like they haven't already heard everything from my mother, and um... eating," I eventually said.

        I could tell Anna was thinking. She was nodding her head slightly, and glanced toward the window for a short moment.

        "Ya know, you've been seeing me for a few months now, and that's one thing we haven't really talked too much about,"she paused. "What exactly about eating can be so triggering?"

        She was on to something, I knew she was, but what?

        "Um well, I just um, I guess mostly because they're not used to my eating habits. They don't know that I don't usually eat very much, and whenever I go there they just pile so much food on my plate. For every meal they do this, and it's just... too much."

        "Hmm. What is a normal amount of food in a day for you? Are there any foods you wont eat, or meals that you tend to skip?"

        "Well, I guess it all depends on the day. Some days I will eat less than 500 calories, and other times I will eat up to 1500. It's quite rare for me to go over that. And foods I wont eat? I guess, like, pizza, cake and brownies, certain types of meat, and lately, cereal. Also, pancakes, but that's because they make me sick. That's pretty much it. Oh, and usually I skip lunch, and sometimes breakfast. That's it though."

        "What does each meal normally look like?"

        "Um, usually breakfast is an egg, sometimes a bagel if I'm eating more that day. I almost always skip lunch, but I mean, I usually eat something once I get home later in the afternoon. That usually is my 'snack' for the day. And then dinner is a little of whatever my parents made."

        "Do you ever get hungry?"

        "Sometimes. Like at school. Sometimes I might get a little dizzy, but I usually just ignore it and it goes away."

        She was thinking again. I hate this silence. Ugh, if only I could read minds...

        "That's not a lot of food, Grace. It seems like you're not giving your body enough nutrients to really move forward in the day."

        "Yea..."

        "Grace, how do you you feel about your body?"

        Why? Seriously, why does she have to ask all these questions? They're not important. I'm fine, really, I am.

        "I, um, I uh don't know."

        "Tell me."

        "I, um, I guess I just I don't know, I don't really like it. Just overall, I'm not a big fan of it."

        "Hmm. How would you feel if I referred you to a specialist for your eating? I think it might be a good idea."

        "No," I said kind of abruptly. I didn't want to be talking about this, let alone go see a specialist.

        "I think it would be a good thing for you, Grace. As your therapist, I must make decisions to help you. I don't want to leave any bases untouched in your treatment if they could be possible factors to your depression and anxiety."

        I was at a loss of words.

        No, please no. I can't do this. I'm fine, I swear. I don't want to see anyone. Oh my God, please. I don't need to see a specialist. My parents would be so disappointed. I truly am fine. Why am I even here? Why did I even say anything? I hate myself. Everything. I hate all of this. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm done. No one can stop me. I don't want to change. I'm scared. No...

        "Grace? You've become awful quiet all of a sudden. What's going on?"

        I was going to start crying. My eyes were stinging, my heart was racing, and everything going on started to become blurry. I started breathing faster, but I continued to fight the tears lingering at the corner of my eyes. I was panicking, and trying to hold it all together. Anna was watching me as I slowly was falling apart right in front of her.

        "I- I'm sorry. I'm fine. Just a lot of things are, um, swarming through my head right now, that's all."

        "What things?" She sat there watching me as I continued to panic, and tried to fight back the tears that were dying so much to fall.

        "I don't want to see her, I don't want to change. And my parents. No- I can't."

        "I know you don't really like to talk to your parents, I understand, but I think it is important that you talk to them. If it would be easier, I could call them. Grace, I think it would be best if you spoke to the eating disorder specialist. I don't believe she is working tomorrow, but I can contact her and..." She continued, but everything started to become a blur except for the one thought that kept repeating in my head.

        I don't have an eating disorder. No, I'm fine.

chapterfour

          My first appointment with Anna was so frightening for me. The whole week before hand was horrible as I waited for the day to come. On the day of my appointment I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't consume anything, because I felt like anything that I would eat would cause me to throw up. The look of food was not appealing at all. I just felt sick. My stomach was in knots, and I could not keep myself from shaking.

          By the time school was over I was a complete mess. I had to rush directly to the appointment from school. I tried to talk with my mom to distract me, but my anxiety was taking over me. I was shaking. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like throwing up, even though there was nothing in my stomach to purge. My heart was pounding, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

          Once we pulled up to the building I knew there was absolutely no way I could get out of it. I walked through the doors and in to the elevator, and that was when I knew everything was real. Everything seemed like such a dream until that exact moment. It scared me more than ever.

          I walked slowly behind my mother to the front desk.

          "Hi, we're here for Grace Petersonn's appointment at 3 o'clock," my mother said in her professional voice.

          "Okay. Anna will be out in a minute or so. Please make yourselves comfortable in the waiting room," the lady at the front desk said.

          I turned and found two chairs that seemed to be away from the other people waiting. I looked down at my trembling knees, and tried to relax. But relaxing didn't really seem like an option at the moment. I kept looking down at my trembling knees, and started to wonder whether or not anyone could hear my heart pounding.

          "Grace?"

          I looked up quickly to see a pretty lady smiling at me.

          "Uh, um. Yes?"

          "Hi, my name is Anna Johnson. I will be your therapist. Why don't you two come with me to my office."

          Just like that. I stood up, and followed her down several long hallways. My heart pounded faster and faster. She stopped, unlocked a door with her name on it, and had us sit in two chairs by a big window.

          "So, what has brought you in here today, Grace."

          We talked briefly about how everything works in therapy: the confidentiality policy, what we'll be working on, and so forth.

          "Okay, so Mrs. Petersonn I'm going to have you wait in the waiting room while I talk to Grace for a little bit. We'll be out shortly. I just want to ask her a couple of questions, and then I will see you both next week."

          My mom left, and my anxiety started to grow again. I had just started to relax a little and stop shaking, but now I was right back to where I had started.

          "How are you, Grace?"

          "I'm fine," I lied. I smiled like I always did whenever someone asked that question.

          "Hmm, 'fine'? What does 'fine' mean exactly?"

          She could see right through me. She could see through that smile that everyone says is so bright, and those two words I use way more than I really should.
          "Um, well, um..."

chapterthree

          It's 2:14 AM.
          It's just another one of those sleepless nights. I am locked in my own mind again. I become a different person at night. I once wrote a letter to myself a couple weeks ago at about this same time, and when I woke up and read it, I didn't even recognize that person. This depression is like a demon inside me. It changes me. I become someone I'm not. This depression tortures me with horrible thoughts and memories. It makes me want to scream, and run, and cry. I can't even hide from it. It's just there, slowly killing me.
         No one cares about you, Grace. Why do you even keep fighting when no one is there for you. You're all alone. You're never going to get better. You're going to be stuck with this depression forever.
           Flashbacks from my past started being thrown at me in every direction. The girls pointing their fingers at me, calling my name, and laughing. Those mean words people called me. The rumors. The teasing. The secrets. The bullies. Everyone gaining up on me. All this kept replaying in my head over and over and over again.
          I told you no one cares about you. Grace, you're just stupid and ugly and worthless.
          I first started getting bullied in fifth grade, but at the time I was used to it and it was just minor teasing. It started to grow in middle school though. It changed me. These flashbacks come back almost every night. The voices and laughs of the people that hurt me. No one really cared that it was hurting me so much, not even my best friend.
          Things started to change in my mind, and I started imagining I was talking to Anna about the whole bullying thing. I have barely said a thing about it to her. I can just imagine starting to tell her about all of it, and breaking inside. I can just imagine the tears streaming down my face, trying to hide them, and wanting to run away. I know I wouldn't be able to though. It's all just a matter of time before she asks me about it.
          I'm scared. I'm afraid to cry. I don't want to tell my secrets. I've kept them in for so long that I don't think I have the strength to anyway. I don't think I could say it. She says she understands what I'm going through, but does she really? What if I can't even say it? What if I just start crying instead? I don't want to cry. I haven't really cried about this, or anything actually in a long time. I don't even think I know how to anymore. Ugh, I don't want to do this anymore.
          I sat up in bed, crawled over to the edge, and pulled the curtains to the side. I stared at the darkness of the night. No one is awake but me. The only light on is the street lamp a few houses down. Everyone else is fast asleep comfortably in their warm beds with their loved ones along side them. And me? I'm awake, and all alone.
          

chaptertwo

          The car ride home was silent. The last bit of light was fading away as the sun sank farther and farther below the horizon. My mom drove lost in her own thoughts, and I sat there feeling nothing but numb, watching the other cars with their head lights on pass us on the freeway. The only noise you could really hear was the white noise of all the cars as they rushed to get home.

          I watched the people driving on the freeway through my side window. One car was full of soccer kids looking like they just ended a great game, and a mother who seemed to be trying to concentrate on the road, not the crazy children chatting up a storm in the back seat. Another car had a lady seemingly talking to herself, even though in reality she was just using her Bluetooth. A car just about to exit the freeway had only a man. He drove in silence, like myself. He looked so sad too, like maybe he had recently lost someone he loved or maybe he just got fired from his job. 

          Or maybe this man was really just fighting this horrible thing called depression.
Like me.

chapterone

          I was completely frozen. My mind had gone in to a frantic state. I felt her watching me, waiting for an answer. My heart started racing as my therapist waited for me to answer her question. The thing is that my mind had gone completely blank, and I didn't know how to answer her.
          "I-I, uh, I don't know," I stuttered.
          She didn't say anything. It's almost like she didn't hear me. She did though, and she was waiting for me to know. My heart was racing as I frantically looked around the room, hoping that all of a sudden I'd find the right answer. I couldn't think of anything though.
          "I just, um, I don't really know," I repeated.
          She continued to watch me. My anxiety was really starting to get to me.
          Oh, please. Please just stop.
          The silence had put me into panic mode. I wanted to give her an answer, but I just couldn't find the answer. I started to feel like I was going to cry from all the pressure.
          No, no, no, no. I can't do this. Don't cry, Grace. Keep yourself together. You rarely ever cry. Why are you going to start crying? Just try to smile. Come on. You must keep fighting.          I couldn't even put on a smile. I just stared back at her. It was so silent that I could almost hear my heart beating out of my chest. I just continued to look back directly into her eyes in hope that just maybe she would realize I actually don't have an answer.
          "Okay, well would you be willing to talk to your parents about this?"
          Oh, thank God. She spoke. Wait, um, what? Shoot, she's expecting me to answer.
          "Um, about what exactly? Sorry."
          "Well, about your depression, and your hidden feelings."
          I sat there thinking for a second. Memories started hitting me left and right.
          "Um," I swallowed deeply. "I don't think so. I just couldn't."
          "Okay. Well, would you like to further explain to me why you don't think you could?"
          Ugh. Why do I have to go through this right now? I don't want to be here anymore. I feel like she has my emotions at the palm of her hand. Or like she's backing me into a dark corner where there is no escape. I want to stay strong. I must, but she keeps trying to make me emotional or something, and it's killing me.
          I cleared my throat and adjusted my blouse. I made sure to keep myself from making eye contact. I didn't want to answer.
          "Grace?"
          "Yea?"
          "Why don't you think you'd be able to talk to your parents?"
          A spark of anger started to rise in me.
          "You want to know why? Because my parents just don't understand. They think everything is fine and dandy. They don't realize that I'm hurting. They are making me talk to you, because they think I'm crazy," I paused. "They don't even know what I'm feeling."
          "What are you feeling, Grace?"
          "Everything. I don't even flipping know what I feel anymore. I'm just a mess inside. I'm hurting so much. I constantly feel like I'm drowning in my own feelings. I can't even breathe anymore. I want to be strong, but I can't. I'm breaking inside. And no one can even see it."
          I stopped as my heart started to hurt. Everything was just getting to be too much. My therapist, Anna, just sat there quietly. She was thinking.
          "When you first walked in to my office, I noticed. I noticed that even though you were smiling and laughing, you were hurting inside. I could see it in your eyes. I could see that you weren't happy like you were playing off to be. When I asked how you were, you answered that you were fine, but I knew otherwise. Grace, you may feel like you're alone in this world right now, and that no one understands, but I'm willing to bet that someone does. As a therapist I am here to listen to you; to help you get through these times. You don't have to feel alone, because I am here for you. When you're here with me you don't have to feel afraid to be yourself. I am here to help you get through this, but in order for me to help you I'm going to need you to help let me in."