Different colored minds

It is for freedom that we are set free

ALIANA POV

Getting up is hard this morning. There's a bolder in my chest that clings to the spring boards at the bottom of my bed. I'm anchored onto the bed by the terror racing in my head. I have to get dressed. What am I going to wear today so that people don't look at me? What am I going to do today when I bump into everyone from the party? What will they say? What will I say? I have nothing to say. I want to be alone today. I want to get out of my head. I want to end this agony.
"Aliana!" my mom's voice travels up the stairs.
"Yes," I muster a voice devoid of anxiety.
"We need to go in twenty minutes. Make sure you're ready."
"Of course mom!" I yell back, fake peace lingering on my face.

I've always wondered if someday there will be a cure for this feeling. This feeling of limbo. I'm stuck in my head and my life and I can't get out of either. And no one will care. Like perhaps what I'm going through isn't valid because it's all in my head. But on days like this, where I'm stuck in my bed debating things that would take other people a few minutes, I just wish there was a way out. I want to sleep. To have a break. To not hear my thought. I think there is a lot of positive stuff that comes out of pushing myself to do what other people can. But I'm doing it to make them happy. Im lying to myself to make them Happy. But at some point someone has to realize how much more work that I'm putting in, and I'm not ready for that.

I'm not ready for the day my parents figure out how deep this runs, or worse the rest of the family. Or worse the rest of the world. Trapped. Labeled as a loon. someone that doesn't love God. They'll say that's why. That this is just me not being reliant on the lord. Saying I'm making excuses. Saying all of this can be solved with my diet. With exercise. With this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and tha—

Ignore the problem until it goes away—until it comes back to bight them. I can't get over my disabilities because that's not how disabilities work. They're not some cold you can take a decongestant for. I think different. My brain is different. And I am weird. I think weird. And I'm okay with that. They're not.

"Aliana!" I can hear my mother's irritated voice again. I get out of bed and race towards my dresser. She'll come up here if I don't get ready now. There's no more putting it off. She'll know something is wrong if I slip up—

This is why no matter how bad I
Want to die I will never commit suicide.

I can't take the aftermath if I live through it. I can't live with the aftermath. So I need to get my shit together.

No one can know.

I have to get through this alone. It's better this way.

Im standing stalk still in front of my closet. No matter what I put on it's not right Then whatever I take off makes the indecision worse. Sometimes I spend an hour and a half changing between clothes just to make sure I look perfect, and even then it never ends well. Come on. I can't keep mom waiting.

"Aliana? What is taking you so long? Are you even awake?" I can hear my mom's voice carrying up the stairs. I gulp, throw on a baggy shirt and parachute pants that are made of Jean material.
This should be okay.
I hear the doorknob twisting.
"Hey mom," she's standing in the doorway. She gives a sigh.
"Alright we can deal with cleaning your room later as long as you're up. You sure you want to wear that?" She asks.
"Do you have anything else?" She continues. "Oh never mind. We'll be late if you change now," my mother decides. My fists clench as she walks away. What if that's what everyone else thinks? What if I look awful? What if they say something? Memories from middle school I've been avoiding are crowding my view. How can I still feel this way? Why do I have to remember these things? Why do I have to care about how I look? Do I look bad. My heart is throbbing too fast again. It feels like thoughts and memories are ricocheting off of the insides of my skull.

"Come on aliana! Even the twins are in the car!" My mom sounds furious. The twins are never in the car on time. Timothy and Jude are always late. Always loud. And never care about anyone else. It's not that they're selfish but maybe that's because they're my baby brothers. Maybe I am a bit biased. But on most days the roles here today are reversed. They never get up on time. I feel bad for making my mom sacrifice her time if I'm late, and I don't understand how they don't care. But I guess it's more like they don't understand what others are sacrificing yet. And I hope one day they will.

There's a book by Dietrich Bonhoeffer called the cost of discipleship. In it he talks about praying for one's enemies because they won't know how to pray for themselves. I guess that's where I stand on this. If it is truly for freedom that I am set free, their words can't hurt me. If freedom and peace are given freely from
The lord he knows I can take this. I
Can do this. I'm stronger than this. I can't get caught yet with problems And maybe,
Maybe one day I'll find someone I can tell it takes an hour and a half to change my clothes. I can't get out of the bed because of the eyes I'll have to look into. I can't tell my family what I'm going through because they'll think they are just excuses. I can't do things the normal way, but I can sure well try. And I guess I just said what I needed to cheer myself up. I take a deep breath. Time to go to school.