Just Have Faith

Chapter Twenty-Three

I awoke around quarter after eight Saturday morning with that empty feeling in my body. Depression; something that sucks the life out of you. I took a deep breath and rolled over onto the other side of my pillow.

Now, I just stared at the wall, wanting sleep to come but knowing that it wouldn't. Whenever I wake up and feel like this, there's no use sleeping. All I can do is stare at the wall. Sometimes, a few tears slip past my eyes, also.

I've spent about five minutes staring at the wall. My right hand made its way to my left wrist and reached under all of the bracelets, touching the scars. Some of the cuts from Tuesday night still haven't healed because, obviously they were very deep. They had to be deep to strike a vein.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but the thought of my blades came back into my mind. I know I promised myself that I wouldn't cut until Lent was over, but it was hard right now. All my blades were gone, but I did have the razor that I use to shave my legs. But, I have to at least try to stay strong.

The past few days have been easy to stay strong because I had been in the hospital. But, now that I'm back home and not surrounded by beeping machines and nurses, all these thoughts come back.

It was a scary place, my mind. Most people look at me and think shy, not depressed. If they took a look in my mind, they'd be in tears.

"Get out," I said to myself while pulling at my hair. I stood up and began pacing my room. "Get out," I repeated.

All I could see was my shower in my mind, the razor sitting on the small shelf. "Get out," I repeated once more.

The image replayed in my head. That list of alternatives is in the bathroom and I know that I shouldn't go in there; I need to stay away from there.

My breathing began to get faster as I slumped down in front of my door. My head was in my hands. One part of my mind was trying to remember alternatives so that I'd be able to stay strong and the other part was telling me excuses to walk out of my bedroom, into my bathroom, and to grab my razor.

I stayed where I was, but no alternative came. All I did was sit and wait.

As I lifted up my head to wipe my tears, I spotted my Bible. After standing up, I grabbed it and walked over to my bed. I grabbed my mix tape, popped it into my CD player/radio, and plugged my earbuds in.

You were walking on the moon and now you're feeling low...

The song Gold began to play as I flipped open my Bible to some verses that I had bookmarked and/or highlighted awhile back.

"The Lord is my strength and my shield. My heart trusted him, so I received help."
~Psalm 28:7

That is true. God is my strength and He helped me through this before. But, now that my blades are gone, the depression feels as if it's tugging me under faster and deeper this time. The depression is telling me that I have no escape; that I have no life jacket to save me from drowning.

I flipped to another one.

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble. That is why we are not afraid even when the earth quakes or the mountains topple into the depths of the sea. Water roars and foams, and mountains shake at the surging waves."
~Psalm 46:1-3

It was as if God knew what I had thought about my depression, like it had been drowning me. There were a few scraps of paper used as makeshift bookmarks and I flipped to that particular one. It was as if He wanted me to know that He was there and that He would save me from drowning.