By the time most of us reach junior high, we know we belong to a certain clique. We have established friendships, sports we’re interested in, our first crushes, etc. Nope. Not me. I was lost. Wandering around aimlessly with no idea of what was expected of me. Why was I the only one having to leave class to “use the bathroom” but really to get through a panic attack? My mom had told me everyone has anxiety, but it seemed that I was the only one suffering. I was friends with everyone. Or maybe friendly is a better way to describe it. I don’t feel as though I had a real friend until my last year of high school, but we’ll get to that later.
So, basically junior high was a time for my anxiety to grow in monster proportions, latching onto my veins, running like fluid through my brain, all throughout my body. It is my belief that this is when the depression was born. I knew I was different, but couldn’t explain why. My sister and brother were in the senior high, and they were popular. They were going out with their friends all the time, partying and having fun. I was content to stay in my room alone, listening to the radio or reading a book, but again, wondering why I was so different. The loneliness set in after awhile, and soon, I was crying for no apparent reason. My parents can tell you… I nailed a sleeping bag over my window and sat in the dark. I was very uncomfortable in my own skin and so badly wanted to be anyone but me.
In 8th grade, a senior expressed an interest in me. I was 12 or 13 and he was 18. I don’t know what he said to my parents, but whatever it was, my mom loved him and allowed him to bring me home from school in his truck so that I didn’t have to take the bus. We’d never go directly home though. He’d take a back road and park and do things to me that made me VERY uncomfortable. According to him, this was all normal. This is what people do. He’d ask me and beg me for a hummer, and I was so confused. A hummer to me was a truck. Why would this guy be asking me for a truck? I was in 8th grade. I didn’t have ANY money. All I knew is that what he did to me physically, hurt, and it didn’t make me feel good. My instincts told me to end the relationship, but how? I’d never broken up with someone before. Well, he did it for me. He gave me an ultimatum. He said “Put out or get out.” See ya!! No way was I having sex at 12 years old! I may not have been the brightest bulb in the shed but I knew that was wrong.
So, to sum it all up, Junior High for me was nothing more than a breeding ground for all of these disorders to gain possession of my mind and body; establish themselves and get nice and cozy. I’m 36 and they’re very much still here. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, the depression has gotten a good hold of me. However, because I am a single mom, falling apart is not an option. I’ve yet to find a psychiatrist that accepts my insurance, so I suffer in silence, as I don’t want my child to see this part. It would kill him. Junior High were just a few of the worst years of my life. There is plenty more to come, so stay tuned.
Until next time,