I thought my life was over.
A number of years ago, I went through a stage of depression. This affected my thoughts, behaviour, feelings, and physical well-being. But it is the story behind the reason that this occurred which creates a background to what my life was previously like.
I remember that day clearly. I woke. The blinding sun caused me to raise my arms and cover my eyes, blocking the orb that hadn’t shone for days. The aroma of the fresh cut grass announced, clearly, the arrival of spring. My destination was school, but it was just a normal school morning to me. I ventured into the dining room where my breakfast awaited me. The cereal took on a metallic tinge from the spoon, which caused my tongue to twitch, but this was soon removed by sweet, but refreshing, minty paste that I used to clean my teeth.
Walking to school seemed nicer than ever! The locals taking their dogs for a walk, couples going on early morning strolls, holding hands like nothing was going to break them, parents getting frustrated with their youngsters as they were dawdling far behind. I just loved watching the world pass by, and the walk to school was definitely the best place for me to do this.
I skipped up the path heading towards the school and I was extremely excited for the day ahead. It is only now that I wish I hadn’t have been so happy, so that the contents of the day didn’t come as such a big shock for me.
I was looking forward to seeing Chelsea in tutor to tell her about my weekend! Even the thought of her made me smile. Chelsea Reagan was my best friend! We did everything together, and although, having major trust issues, I could have trusted her with my entire life! She was loyal and had not had an easy upbringing, but she rarely let that concern her and always had something to tell me that would brighten up my day.
Rushing up to my class, I caught up to my tutor teacher. I knew something was wrong with her, I could just tell. Her face dropped further and further down as I continued telling her about my urge to tell Chelsea all the gossip and highlights of our days apart. “Jane” she said apprehensively. I rudely, but not menacingly, carried on speaking straight over the top of her. “Jane” she said, more firmly this time. I decided to listen. “The thing is...” she explained, “I don’t think Chelsea is going to be at school for quite a while,” she continued hesitantly, “She has moved house, quite a long way from here, and has also moved school, but don’t worry!” she tried to assure me, “you’ll still be able to keep in contact with her.”
I loved my teacher, admired her. She was always the teacher that I found time for. She respected me, so I respected her. She wasn’t meddling like the rest, and she was always there for me, educationally and socially. But despite those things, at that moment in time, I could have never have spoken to her again, but somehow, I managed to stay calm.
“Moved?” I repeated in disbelief. On the outside I was trying to maintain a smile and I looked at her as if she was teasing me. However, on the inside I knew full well that this was true. I tried to feel sorry for her, having to be the one who broke the news to me, but I just wanted to cry.
Unable to hear anymore of what she had to say, I clambered up the stairs, sat in the classroom, and did not talk to anyone for the whole day.
“Take care” were Chelsea’s last words to me before we parted on the Friday. How was I meant to take care when my best friend wasn’t here with me? To me, the hum of the printer was the only indication of activity within the room, but in reality it was an environment of hilarity. The members of the class that were normally quiet and reserved were giggly and over exaggerated, and even my teacher seemed to be having buckets of fun, but I could see the shining glint in her eye which metaphorically was asking me whether I was okay.
