a positive turn

The day after I cut myself for the first time, I woke up after a terrible nights rest. By terrible I mean I hardly even slept. The fear of how south my thoughts were going kept me up all night. My heart couldn't slow down, my mind was racing and I had no idea what I was going to do next. This emptiness inside me had completely taken over. It had taken over me slowly… over the course of many years. Now I wondered if I was too late. Could I even overcome the numbness I had? Could I ever stop the tears from flowing, even though my sadness had drifted away months ago? These thoughts had to be subdued until later because I had to go to work. I got out of bed, put on my work clothes ( I made sure to wear a long sleeved shirt), and put on my face. When I say putting on my face I don't mean makeup, I literally would not leave my room until I could get myself to smile and make it look believable. Some days I had to stand in front of the mirror for hours, just to get myself to smile.

My shift at work went smoothly. It was a pretty slow day, and so I had a lot of time on my hands to think about what I was going to do with my current state of being. I knew if I kept going on this way it wouldn't be much longer until I decided to permanently take my existence from this world. I felt so hopeless, and I didn't know who to turn too. I knew I had good friends who could help me, and I was really close to my family… but, something was holding me back from telling them and I didn't know what it was. I came to the conclusion that it was a lot of different things. Mainly I was scared. I was scared out of my mind to tell anyone how I had been feeling for the last 2 and a half years of my life, maybe even longer than that. I was ashamed, so ashamed of myself for letting me get to this point. I was bitter, bitter that this horrible thing had happened to me. I was angry, I was entirely livid that I was sitting over on the sidelines, still broken and he went on and lived his life like nothing had even happened. There were so many other things I was feeling, I don't think I can pin point them all. I had so many thoughts swarming my mind, I didn't even know where to start. I started to become so discouraged, that I gave up even telling anyone because I was a lost cause anyway.

After I got off work, the ride home was torture. I didn't know how I was going to approach the rest of the day, or even any day after. When I got home, I went upstairs to change and just sat on my bed. The hopelessness I felt was taking over and all I wanted to do was cry. I wasn't up there for long when my mom came and knocked on the door. I went over and let her in, I'll never forget the look on her face. She had such concern in her eyes, and I could tell she had been pondering how to approach this situation for quite some time. We sat down on my bed and started talking. She asked how I was doing and I said I was fine *lie*. I was looking down at my hands... I couldn't face looking into my mothers eyes knowing I had been lying to her about how I'd been feeling for so long. She reached over and put her hand below my chin to raise my head so I was looking her dead on. She then proceeded to say, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you're okay, Mackenzi." 

I completely broke down. I started crying so hard and between sobs I told her how is been feeling, that my depression had gotten really bad and I had thought about suicide. (My mother actually didn't know I had come to self harming, I told her that after I posted my first blog). We came to the conclusion that it was time I talked to someone, about everything. 

The next week I had my first appointment set up with my therapist. I was a nervous wreck sitting in the waiting room. I kept looking up at the clock, my hands were shaking and my foot was tapping like crazy. Just when I had started to calm down, the door opened and two women walked out of it. I tried really hard not to stare... but I couldn't help myself. One of the women turned to me and said, "Hi Mackenzi, you can go ahead and follow me this way." We walked back toward her room and she told me to take a seat wherever I felt comfortable. I chose this huge couch... it looked the least intimidating. 

I had gone into this therapy session thinking that it was going to be a certain way. I would do all the talking, she'd listen then give me her input and I'd leave really not feeling that much better about anything. It wasn't the case at all. 

She was very lovely, a very caring woman who genuinely cared about how I was doing. She didn't know me from Adam, and I didn't know her either. She first started talking to me about her life, her family, and why she chose this career. She told me about some interesting experiences she'd had while she was still in school. She even brought up some of her own struggles, and how she wanted to help others who have gone through bad experiences like she had and help them though it. I was taken aback. She then followed those remarks, by explaining to me why she told me so much about herself. She said, "I want you to know that I'm not just here to listen to you. I want to know you, I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about your life, both good and bad. This professional relationship that we have is going to go much further than just a first name basis."

Right after she finished, I just started sobbing. I felt badly for going in thinking she was going to be some lifeless robot who only would listen to me because it's what she was getting paid to do. In that instant she built a deep trust with me, and I knew she was exactly the person I needed to talk too. She was going to become a shoulder I could lean on. The next few months of meeting with her on a weekly  basis, did amazing things for me. I found out that not only was my depression something I was able to control and overcome but I also suffered with anxiety. My anger came from my body trying to find ways to let my anxiety out. I wasn't an angry person that I was afraid I had become, I was simply so anxious about everything that my body was trying to do everything it could to not shut down.

I'm not saying that therapy is this magical cure for depression. I still suffer with it today, and I know it's going to be a constant battle for the rest of my life. I want to get more into detail about the challenges I faced over those months, how I over came them, and what priceless advice she shared with me. But, that will have to wait till next time.