Initiating Event

The Waiting Room

I am no stranger to hospital waiting rooms. I feel comfortable in rows of chairs with news channels playing in the background. The calling of the names of the wounded is now just noise. I feel alone in a space that is actually teeming with the infected. I was once one of them: the sick, the plagued. I once waited for my group to be called. I once smelled chemicals that were meant to clean the air within the hallways; this air was not a vehicle for contagion since our disease could not be caught. We were working to rid ourselves of demons and ghosts that haunted our lives and left scars on our bodies. I escaped the grip that the disease had on my mind and I flourished in being clean. Now I sit and wait for those closest to me to receive help. I believe in a symbolic waiting room, that everyone will visit.

There are many events that led me to the waiting room. I was experiencing a lot of anxiety, but not all of it was related to school. It was mostly the immense pressure I put on myself to do well in everything I touch. I also had a hard time in normal social situations because my anxiety over took my being to freeze it in its place. The silver lining to all of this was a feeling of sadness and hopelessness. The depression started small and grew and grew until it took over and threw me into a deep, dark hole. My mom, my dad, stepmother, and therapist suggested that I start taking medicine to ease these thoughts and feelings. Before I knew it, I had an antidepressant and an anti anxiety prescribed to my name. When I swallowed the first pill on that early summer morning, I knew my life would never be the same.

My life changed for the worse after ingesting serotonin for about a month. Ironically, the antidepressant I took only made it worse. When I started falling deeper and deeper into the black hole, I felt a slowing in my decent. Between my parents and therapist, it was decided that I would spend some time in a psychiatric hospital. For three weeks, I did not go to school and instead went to a partial hospitalization program to treat my illnesses. It was definitely time well spent. I gained new insights, coping skills, and met some amazing people. I transitioned back to school, and life returned to normal. I got off of the bad medicine and was put on mood stabilizers, which worked much better for me. I finally felt like a normal, stable person.

However, I know my roller coaster is not over. At the end of April in 2015, I was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder and am attempting to medicate it with the help of my psychiatrist. I can see a point in the future where the present will be just a memory from the past.

I would sit in a waiting room and wait to be cared for. I knew I would receive help, but I had to wait. We all sit in a metaphorical waiting room at some point in our lives. We know that things will get better, but they won't get better right away. Time really can heal all wounds, but some wounds need longer to heal. I had to wait for the eight to nine pills I take daily to sooth my imbalanced mind. Others wait for the right person to come into their lives, or the right opportunity to present itself to them. We all end up in the waiting room, and I believe it is a part of life we all have to embrace with patience and hope.

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This I Believe Q4 Essay