Brain Storm Issue II: Turning Points&Self-Discovery | Page 13

There is nothing glamorous about suffering. One day, I was a contributing member of my family, my friend circle, and my school (someone who could hide their inner darkness from even their best friend simply by putting on a smile) and the next day I was admitted to the hospital, and had basically cut ties with my life because I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed to step back completely; I could not do both at once. And the hard part? The world kept moving around me. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but I think I expected for my personal struggle to be more evident in the world around me. With the exception of my family and the close friends who stood by me through this struggle, the rest of the world looked much the same even after I had checked out of it. Senior year went on without me. I lost close to thirty pounds because the medicinal cocktail I was on inhibited my appetite and food disgusted me. I looked gaunt as a result of my lack of nutrition, and I slept over fifteen hours a day. Here is also where the stereotypes of depressed people forgoing personal hygiene come into play… when you are drawing on all your stores of energy and more just to get out of bed when you can, personal hygiene becomes quite trivial. I had to be reminded and persuaded to shower.

When the hospital revealed to us that in order to participate in the inpatient program I had to leave all of my clothes and personal effects on the outside, and that I could only see my family for thirty minutes each day, we decided that I would come home and try to heal there while taking part in the hospital’s outpatient program. My parents sat by me nearly twenty-four hours a day in a sort of DIY suicide watch. When they had to return to work, my eighty-year-old grandmother drove forty minutes each way every single day to stay with me, watch me, and attempt to distract me when she could. My fourteen-year-old sister locked herself in the bathroom sobbing on more than one occasion because she could not understand why my family’s focus suddenly zeroed in entirely on me, and how I could want to leave her. The pain I caused her will haunt me for the rest of my life. None of this is glamorous.

art by Stephanie Luka