The Lies We Tell

Chapter 7: Getting Help

     As the school year continued it was not unusual for Laurel to be found texting her friends in her room, though unlike the other teens she was less interested in who was dating whom and more interested in psychology. It was Dakota, who was by far the most supportive of the small group, that Laurel found the best conversationalist, at least in matters of any interest to her. This particular conversation was becoming more and more common between the two to the point that it replaced all other communications.
     "Dakota?" Laurel would say.
     After a few moments Dakota would respond. "Yeah?"
     "You know the symptoms of depression, right?"
     "Yeah."
     "I have a family history. I'm so scared that I'll do something someday and my mom will feel guilty for it. Just keep an eye on me, would you?"
     "Okay."
     That was it. They were never particularly lengthy conversations, especially now that Dakota had a boyfriend, but they were enough to ensure Laurel that someone else would be able to recognize the symptoms before it became an issue. Often times, Laurel would bring up some reason that she felt guilty. Her mom worked too hard getting her to and from school, she was too antisocial for her own good, she came across often as rather harsh. It was little things like that that in the eyes of any other person would mean absolutely nothing. Little, tiny details that caused endless amounts of stress, worry, and, to some extent, fear of failure.
     During such occasions of self doubt, Dakota would be of much more help than she usually was. She would offer encouragement and Bible verses (both girls were strong Christians) as well as suggestions. The last thing she always said was "Promise you'll get help if it gets worse." And so Laurel promised.
     It seemed Laurel wasn't the only one concerned by the family history of depression. Her mother, as of late, had been asking rather excessive questions to the pediatrician in regards to the subject. She was worried by her daughter's ever quiet, motivated, and antisocial personality which had grown increasingly more so over the last semester as well as the previously mentioned lack of interest in most everything. It was, therefore, not at all surprising when Laurel's mom told her she had scheduled an appointment at the end of May. It was April now, but the appointment slots filled quickly and had to be booked well in advance.