Dysthymia

Grey

It comes in waves, I close my eyes...

I sat near the kitchen window of my parents suburban town house, drinking out of my favorite white coffee mug. It read "Life's a Beach". My headphones were in, as usual.
I was up rather early today, I'm usually up at 6am but today it was closer to 5:30am. Not that I was complaining, I got to watch the sunrise. I prefer the sunset, but there's something magical about the way the sun peeks out over the horizon. Too bad I couldn't watch the sunrise over a scenic hillside or a beautiful beach, instead I watched it rise over the row of houses that lined the other side of my street. That's what you get when you're a middle class, average citizen.
I was deep in thought when my mother entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Lauren. You're up rather early."
"Good morning, mom." I answered back dryly.
"Did you take your medicine already?"
"Yep." I said truthfully. I had taken my pills, all six of them. I would say what they're for but I honestly have no clue. Happy pills, my dad calls them. Smile pills, my brother would say, if he was still here.
My younger brother Mark was killed in a car accident 5 years ago. He was playing out near the road, and when a ball rolled out onto the street, he ran to retrieve it. I think you can figure out what happens next. His death anniversary was little over a month ago, and his birthday is December 12th. Mark was taken away from us that day, but his memory will never leave.
His death is what really got my depression going, if that's what you'd even call it. I was always a kind of gloomy kid, but now it's just downright pitiful.
The reason I said 'if that's what you'd even call it' is because I don't think I'm depressed. I'm fine. I'm just quiet. "Depressed" is a word that I always associated with weakness. Outcasted, purple haired, too much black eyeliner wearing kids are depressed. People who loose their jobs are depressed. I am not depressed.
My therapist doesn't agree.
According to him, I have dysthymia. If you don't know what that means, another name for it is neurotic depression, which basically means I'm bat shit crazy. I'm also slightly bipolar and have paranoia, which is a part of psychotic depression.
So I'm basically bipolar, psychotic, neurotic and paranoid. I sound like a Green Day song.
But, nevertheless, I think I'm pretty ok. I do things like a 'normal' person would, I shower, I eat, I sleep, I breathe. I'm ok. I'm just quiet and tired is all, and maybe a little bit sarcastic when I actually do speak, which is rare.
"It's almost time for school, honey. You ready for the day?" my mom said as she came over and sat across the table from me.
I always thought my mom was so beautiful, with her light blonde hair yet mysteriously dark brown eyes that just captivated me. I'd always wanted dark eyes, but no. I got the exact opposite of my mom, with dark hair and light eyes.
"Ready as I am every other day." I said and gave her a slight smile that I hope was reassuring.
She smiled back and rubbed my cheek in the affectionate way that moms do, with her smooth hands but jagged wedding ring, something I'm convinced I'll never wear.
Who would ever marry, or even date a depressed girl who never says a single word to anyone if she can help it?
That's probably why I've never had a boyfriend before. Yep, how pathetic is that? A 17 year old girl that's never even held hands with or kissed a boy before. I'm ridiculous.
"It's ok, Lauren. School will be over before you know it, you're a senior already. Where have the times gone? Last week I was sending you off to your first day of kindergarten." she said.
"That felt like an eternity ago to me." I said.
"And why is that?"
"Because school is the closest thing to hell I can imagine."
My mom frowned.
What the hell is wrong with me? I always find a way to say the most depressing shit that makes everyone stop talking to me immediately. I always subconsciously say that one fucked up thing that makes everyone think I'm a freak.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Lauren, but there's not much you can do. This is your last year, then you can go out into the real world. It's not all it's cracked up to be, I promise you that. Enjoy having no responsibility and no worries now." she said.
"Ok. I probably should be going, wouldn't wanna be late." I said sarcastically, of course.
"Ok honey, love you, drive careful, be safe."
"Ok mom." I said as I crossed the kitchen, grabbed my book bag and headed for the door.
"And Lauren?" she said as I started to duck out.
"Yeah mom?" I said, turning around.
"Smile, ok? Have a good day." she said with a smile but with the way the crease formed between her eyebrows, I knew she was concerned about me.
I nodded, then headed back on my way.
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