It’s fitting that I am writing about this experience this week, as it marks the six-year anniversary of a very low point in my life. This is something that my friends and church from home know, but no one here knows anything about.
I was a happy kid up until middle school. I had friends, I was involved with my school, on three sports teams — life was great. Then my parents told me that I was transferring schools since my sister was starting high school in Hagerstown. I didn’t want to leave my friends from my school, but I knew I didn’t have a choice.
Previously, I had attended an all-girl school, but this new school was a co-ed school, where a group of students targeted me. Most new kids get made fun of in some way when they switch schools, and this was my own personal torture. One student in particular played mind games with me, telling me he liked me one day, and that I was a piece of garbage the next. He included the entire class of 60 people in on this “joke” of his. I can deal with one person, maybe a few, telling me horrible things – that I’m trash, no one likes me, no one would ever love me, I have no real friends, etc. – but this was my entire class. I was told to ignore it, because he was "doing it to get a rise out of me," which did not help me.
I began closing myself off. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, I wouldn’t look at anyone, I wouldn’t say anything for fear of being made fun of. I shut down. I began faking appearances and pretending to be okay while feeling nothing. I wanted to wrap myself in a blanket in my bed and never leave again.
My opinion of myself and self-worth took a dramatic drop as well. I began believing the things that all the kids said about and to me. I would look in the mirror and hate the reflection that I saw and her personality. I desperately hoped that by some miracle something would change.
Strangely, it did. My mother had signed me up for youth band at my church. It was a new music group they were starting for kids my age. Since I played the flute, she thought I would love it. To humor her, I told her I would go to the practice on Saturday, but didn’t really believe that it would change anything. What happened at that practice was kind of special. I made a friend (we’ll call her Lisa); she played the violin. And she was a nerd like me. We talked and bonded the entire practice and exchanged phone numbers by the end. My mom picked me up at the end of that practice and asked me how it was. I told her it was great and asked if I could go again next week.
I’ve told Lisa this story before. How she saved me and made me happy again. Just because I had one friend that liked me did not mean that I wasn’t affected by what was happening at school. I began texting Lisa every day and using the journal that was previously more dark and somber to make lists of things I wanted to do. Soon, I began filling the journal with stories as well. I created a character based on myself and created a fantasy, magical world for her, filled with dragons, magic spells and magical friends. This made getting through school easier.
By January, the student had grown tired of his joke and ceased it, as did the class. My six-month torture had ended. The damage I incurred from it, however, I would carry up to this day.
Over the next six years, I would suffer periods of severe depression. During these periods, I would lose friends because they couldn’t understand why I felt nothing and why I would close off.
During my junior year, I began picking up the pieces to build myself back up again. I still had low self-esteem, but I had some friends and wouldn’t entirely hate who I saw in the mirror. I accepted my status as a nerd. Things were finally looking up.
Until they weren’t. The transition between junior and senior year was tough for me. For seemingly no reason I began feeling nothing. Since I was faking appearances, I didn’t even know that I was heading downhill again. My best friend did, though. One day my senior year, she called me out for not showing up to something. She called me a terrible friend and that I thought I was better than her.
Later, we would talk about what happened between us and work out how to avoid that situation ever again.
December gave me the push I needed through an unlikely avenue. I was sitting in my basement with my sister when I heard my grandfather’s voice. He told me that I had a lot of life to live and that he couldn’t brag about my novels in heaven if I never got to the point where I could write them.
I began a mission of building myself up once more. I focused more on myself and solving the problems that I saw within me. I even shared this story with the confirmation retreat group at my church this past March where I burned the journal that once held all of my dark emotions.
Which brings me to today. Lisa is still one of my best friends and I still owe her for saving me. My best friend and I have never been better. That story about the girl and dragons, I’m writing a sequel for it today, and it inspired me to write more stories. I may have just had a breakdown in the bathroom but my friends were there for me. Actual, amazing friends who don’t judge me or look at me differently. Washington College is a place where I am going to fully learn to love myself and accept that the depression is behind me, but still a part of my past.
Hannah, Jilly, Syd, Will, Mairin, Drake, Brannon and Alyssa, this is for you. Thank you for just being who you are – my friends.
