sick. - Evak

Pretentious ●Isak●

As I walked towards the gym, butterflies started to fill my stomach. Slowly, but surely.

Scratch that, the butterflies were swarming inside, racing at a thousand miles per hour. I've been through this five times, five different times & somehow this time it felt different.

My overthinking-ness started to kick in and I tried to kick the thoughts to the back of my scattered brain. "What if that girl in my biology class is there? She seems like she could be depressed. Oh, and that red-haired boy who sits infront of me on the bus. I've never heard him talk, yet everyday I hear him blast those sad, emo songs through his earphones."

My thoughts quickly diminished as I pulled up on my bike.

This was going to be my sixth group. It was the local one and I begged my mom to never take me here. After she found out I was ditching nearly every session, she resorted to taking me here. I must admit, it was really dumb on my part.

It doesn't seem like a lot, going through five different therapy groups. That's until you realize that it's only been a year-and-a-half. I pretty much hated all of the groups I went to, and would do anything to get out of them. So that's what I did.

A week after my fifteenth birthday I went to my first session. That's when things weren't so bad, I only went once a week and didn't mind it at first. That was until some psychotic girl became obsessed with me. Her threats had gotten so bad that I had no other choice but to leave.

My second and third groups were actual hell for me. This was when my anxiety started to control my life. I'd do literally anything to escape those groups. Pretending to go to the bathroom before the sessions had even started and then hopping out of the bathroom window was my go-to. It worked for a few months until they contacted my mother. I still don't understand how I was ever able to get away with that.

In my fourth group I only had made one friend. A tall, frail boy named Tyler. He was recovering from Anorexia and his health had only gotten worse and worse as the meetings went by. After several months, he was placed back into a mental facility and I haven't seen him since.

My final group was anything but a support group. There were several of us, mostly kids who suffered from depression. But those therapists didn't care. They didn't want to help any of us and it was sickening. One of them even told a thirteen-year-old to "Get over it."

That's when I knew. That's when I knew that none of this helped. It was all a bunch of bullshit in the first place. I was truly broken but none of them seemed to care. And that's why I have ten more therapy sessions left until I'm allowed to start meds. I need to take a whole years worth of group therapy counseling just to get put on the right medication.
Just to be normal.

I spent hours up at night, reading endless amounts of blogs. Reading all about the different types of drugs, medicines, and counseling. I want to be better and I know that that's the only way how to, it's the only way to get myself back.

The new therapy group took place at a nearby Christian Catholic school, and to say the least, I was not excited at all. I especially wasn't excited the moment I opened the gym doors and around fifteen heads turned in my direction. The squeakiness echoed throughout the whole building and I felt like burying myself alive.

"Hello!!"

An enthusiastic girl with long, blonde hair blurted out. Within seconds, she was running towards me and slinging an arm over my shoulder.

All eyes were now fixated on me and I felt the nerves race throughout my body. I hung my head low and didn't dare look up.

As we finally arrived to the circle, I carefully lifted my head upwards. Before I even knew what was going on, a tall, blond boy was offering his seat. As I went to step forward, another boy quickly jumped out of his seat and energetically motioned for me to sit down.