being content

Some people never appreciate how lucky they are to be content with their life. They dont realize how lucky they are to really mean it when they smile, to mean it when they say that they are okay, and to just feel happy. I feel like I can say I do appreciate all these things, And thats only because there was a time when I didnt mean it when I smiled, I didnt mean it when I said I was okay, and I just didnt felt happy. I suffered with depression and had no idea for a long time. For a long time I could stay in bed for days only getting up for the necessary things and going right back to bed. I could lay there and think about how lonely I was like I was stuck in a long deep dark whole in the ground and was calling out just not to be heard even though every day someone offered to talk to me or hang out with me. I still said no because I thought why do you want me? What am I worth?

When I was at school I could sit in my desk looking at the board like I was listening to the teacher but only be thinking to myself about how whats the point of being in school if I couldnt care about anyone or anything. I didnt care because even with no one saying anything bad or looking at me the wrong way, I felt threatened because in my head I was not as good as everyone else. Except when I was around my grandmother.

My grandmother had raised me since I was a baby. She was a mother to me. We could talk all night about movies we were watching. Even though she ruined watching them with her huge outrageous laughter. She could pick at me and poke at me like a mother wiping my toddler face off and Id pull away. My grandmother was the most important person in my life. Until I lost her, I still remember that day. I remember seeing her there at the hospital, I remember going home knowing she will be there tomorrow, and I remember getting the call. The call that let me know she wasnt going to be there tomorrow. I couldnt cry. I had no tears left.

I had no escape from the whole after that. My heart went from just chill to completely blue. My thoughts were only of how cold and alone I felt. Almost like when youre out side in the cold and youre almost numb but you can still feel. Except for when I got mad, I would yell and scream out of no were. Id feel a burst pop inside me and I would just want everyone to feel what I felt. I could start screaming over the smallest of things. I could get angry over being talked to or not being left alone. I wanted to pull every one down the whole with me. I wanted everyone to see where I sat all day by myself in my head. I wanted people to see the rage boiling through my blood to my hands which I wanted to use to hit something. I wanted someone to feel what I felt.

Then came the day when I let all that rage burst completely. I was at school in the therapy program I went to every day. I dont even remember what sparked it but someone said some said something about how bitchy I had become and how no one cared about what I felt, but I cant be such an ass whole. Thats when I really felt a pop inside me and I got up and shouted curses and nasty comments. Then the therapist got out of her chair and tried to calm me down. It just riled me up even more. I started to cry. Only I felt what I felt, and only I was going to hurt. I couldnt make anyone else feel the pain I felt. I couldnt put anybody else in a big whole all by themselves. I shouted go to hell all of you I just want to die! I want to stop breathing I want to die!

And that was enough to have the school send me to what the hospital likes to call itself a behavioral hospital. But we all know its a mental hospital. I remember I my mother was there the night I was admitted. She told me she loves me and she had wished I would get better. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. I just sat there and said youre not my mom. I didnt watch as she and my grandpa left after visiting hours. Some random girl next to me looked at me and questioned me, Why would you talk to any one like that especially youre mom? I looked at her and answered. You dont know what Ive been through. She then said one last thing to me. You dont know what any one has been through. Its not just you.

That statement hit me very hard. I had felt guilty and ashamed, not right away though. I tried to start an argument of course and was trying to hit below the belt. But I came to the conclusion that she was right and I was being a little brat. She didnt like to much after that and it made my time there with her not so much fun.I was so messed up that I ended up in a mental hospital. And theres nothing wrong with being in a mental or behavioral hospital, if you need help you go just as if you had cancer you would go to your doctor for chemo therapy or radiation or something to save you.

After three weeks of boredom and hard work it did save me. Im not at all ashamed for going there. Im not ashamed for needing help. I am ashamed for hurting people and being rude to them. Now I know that I never wanted any one to have my pain. I know I just wanted to be saved, and if I ever feel like I used to I think of my grandmother and her big laughter that used to annoy me but I now love and miss with all my heart. I think of how we could argue all night about our points of views on movies. And I think that I was so lucky to have the best mother ever. And thought is what makes my every day content. I mean it when I smile, I mean it when I say Im ok, and I am really happy.