“You can’t always blame the world for your problems. At some point you have to take responsibility of your own life.” As anonymous as this quote is, simple words have never impacted my life as much as these. I have always known the nightmare would end; I just did not know when, or if, I’d be here to witness it.

There are some exceptionally disastrous events that can occur in someone’s life that can change them forever. There are some dark times that even the brightest light cannot even illuminate. I understand that depression is not necessarily considered an event by textbook, but I can name few situations that are more impactful on someone’s life for this “event” has no typical case. There is no one that depression “lightens the load” for, I know that. I also know that this thing inside of my head engulfed my mind. My thoughts struggled to grasp for air. My brain slowly melted into a puddle of nuke warm, day old pudding; filled with a similar unwanted substance. I had no time for that.

I have always had some sort of expectation or standard to achieve every single day. I had no time to recognize my mental stability or lack thereof. I did not want anyone to ask me questions. I did not openly display my distress when I knew I would instantly and pathetically receive an invitation to a pity party I would regretfully have to reject.
   

The thoughtless question, “How are you?” has become a habit for most. However, the answer to that question was not as habitual as most would prefer. I dreaded the thought of such a simple confrontation.  The most I could do was bare through the day with fist bumps because I knew better than to shake someone’s hand when my palm was moister than the damp weather outside with my mile-high hair as my witness; sporadic awkward laughs in the middle of history class to prevent glossy eyes as the teacher reviewed horrifyingly dull topics left me as the seemingly vehement peer juxtaposed to the rest of my rock solid, silent, dull classmates; the floor making love to my eyes as I walk through the hallways, unable to lift my chin with the fear of glancing at someone who had it worse off than me because I truly would not be able to cope knowing I’m just too whiny.
   

My coping skills have always seemed “off” compared to others I saw regularly dealing with the same “event”. I kept myself busy with the only way I knew at the time: school work. The more I did, the more I hoped my heart and head would just go numb in fear I may slip and say something to differ from my usual “happy” self-image so flawlessly perfected. I wanted my entire being to stop, shut down, reboot, and catch up where it left off, but this time, where I wanted to be. I can honestly say “fake it ‘til ya make it” became my mantra; more or less like those “new” overplayed songs on the radio that you hate but can never forget.
 

   Another unforgettable aspect of everyday life is your mind. It’s like a street, but a turn of the careless lands you in an alley. When you have this mutation swallowing your mind, your alley is long, narrow, dark, damp, never-ending, and inescapable. At every glance, the walls get tighter and you start to get claustrophobic- your skin crawls for its own rescue, craving to leave the remainder of your soul behind. Your confidence takes a blow. Behind every abandoned, rusty dumpster, still embedded with the scent of decay, crawls out every single essence of your self-doubt- you begin to look for salvation. Your mind dwindles. Underneath every broken, forgotten, infested piece of waste slithers a “harmless joke” you’ll never forget- you long to initiate your departure. Your heart plummets.
 

   I was in that alley. I felt forgotten and unwanted like the other useless mass surrounding me. Low and behold I was trapped by none other than myself. Through my actions and persistence, my mind has eventually morphed from where I was to where I wanted to be. Piece by piece I chipped away at the foreboding walls enclosing me until I saw it. Like an orb of life itself, my future was waiting for me. I can now say I truly know the value of a smile. I no longer feel the need to seek others to fill my self-implemented voids.

    I started to take responsibility of my own life.  I’m more independent than I thought I ever could be. I know what it feels like to feel like you’re alone and helpless, and for that reason specifically I help others whenever there is an opportunity.

I do not want anyone to feel the way I felt and even though I’m proud of my transformation, I do not publicize or promote my struggles. I have changed so much over the years and no one knows where I began.  I welcome the unfamiliar privacy.

I am not a project I can receive an “A” on. I cannot get “Most-Improved” stamped on my forehead. This challenge was me versus myself. Luckily for me, this struggle of mine became a blessing. It brought me closer to my passion for life. My desire to not only live, but to enjoy life is far beyond any previous aspiration of mine. At the end of my life, I want to be lying there, reflecting over my journeys and not just say that I survived, but that I lived. At the end of the day, exceeding anyone’s perception of which I am, only I know who I could have been and for that I am proud.