The landscape before me

A plight of overwhelming sentiment I feel. A train station that slowly corrupts sane thoughts and brings upon a fresh batch of nothing and everything at the same time. “There will be a curfew from 10 pm to 6 am…” “We are issuing a stay at home order…” “School will resume until May 4th…” One thing I do tend to hear a lot is, “You are not alone; everyone is going through this together…” but I can’t help feeling selfish at the thought of placing my emotions onto the range of the crowd outside these four walls.

So I try my best to conceal. Conceal the madness that is my brain, at least until it’s lights out, and everybody is asleep anyway. During the night is when it gets worse. Many long for silence, yet I resent it, especially during this time at night. I pray to the higher power, whether it be associated with religion or some sort of science. Then I realize just how skeptical I am of that too. And I tend to scrap all the will power within me to fight against the wave of tears brimmed beneath the pupils of those eyes. Those eyes that wish to see the media take their place and provide comfort and solace along with this devastating news. Those eyes that carry the need to make everyone feel happy and loved, and want to protect people.

Alas, one day, I woke up stricken with a will; it is time to challenge despair. I run desperately towards the door, and I step outside. I step outside and on to the grass, although I shouldn’t, because I’m allergic to pollen, and I breathe in condensed and polluted air. As I do so, I admire the landscape before me, then I turn around, and I feel grateful for my life, and for the beautiful shelter, I can call my home. So I start my way back inside as if to be a completely new person.

Since then, I take upon that persona. One that goes through emotional vendetta in a healthy manner and isn’t afraid to place herself with the rest. I realized that this conflict is nothing but a state of mind. The angle that I perceived at the start was true, and it was me. So is this angle and version. I once read in an article, “Though some parts of our personalities feel written in stone…, the truth is that all of us are capable of altering our perspective.”  I guess the point I’m trying to convey is all emotions and personal conflicts are valid. I suppose even more so at this stage. We really are going through this together. I’m more optimistic and hopeful towards the future now, and I encourage you to do so too. You are not alone.

As a child, there’s only so much one can do. We have no choice but to accept that we are never in control of what’s happening; in fact, many of us were too naïve to ever even think of the possibility in which we are in control. Throughout these years, she never really knew what or how things worked, within her childhood, all she did get to know was nothing more than her very own feelings and emotions.

Her parents are very kind and driven individuals. They both share a deep passion for work because it was implemented at a very young age. As far as she can remember, she too grew fond of it and soon after the age of four played the -at the time super cool- role of a promoter at a family business they owned at a local flea market. Because of this workaholic-like structure, her family as a whole became stressed. This and many more “adult” topics arose a series of altercations between her parents. Of course, for young, little Laura, this meant to distract her little brother with blasting music meanwhile she cried at a corner where he wouldn’t notice.

Throughout her early years of school, she had been the main target for a cheap laugh. Anything you can possibly think of, she’s pretty sure she has been called before. After that, she had no more room in her brain to think of anything other than these incidents all together. It felt as if every step she took was out of place. As she grew older, she learned that the anguish and disgust felt within herself were very much validated and were far from wrong. Up until the medial part of last school year was she granted the opportunity to share her story as a whole, along with other problems, for the very first time. It was through her former English teacher that she entered the first step of recovery.

Although this newfound path ensured success, she was filled with this sense of uncertainty and fear of neglect. This became the problem when diagnosing her with Mild Depressive Disorder and continued until she forced herself into a hospital for the fear of her own actions. After her discharge, she became quieter about her feelings because it felt as though they either did not matter or were always misunderstood. 

Later then she received monthly therapy and was visited twice a month by a social worker in order to learn coping mechanisms and really heal. Her parents too were educated about what was going on and helped her in whatever way possible. It was until then that she took this blindfold, that she had created herself, off and really looked at the bigger picture. There were all these people gathered that love and care for her deeply. The misunderstanding was all of her own, and this helped take a major part in helping overcome that fear and take time for herself this past summer break.

She knew then that her life was worth living because of all these reasons. She is worthy of living because she’s been independent since such a young age. She is worthy of living because being bullied created confidence in loving herself. She is worthy of living because she chose to rise above “scary” or “crazy” words like Mental Disorders. All of this makes her so much more worthy of living, and she hopes others can find their reasons too.