CHAPTER 5 – KATE
Heart pounding, dry mouth, and headache are my everyday norm. I have such bad anxiety that at times I am surprised my heart continues to beat, I would not be surprised if one day it decided to skip a beat or stop beating completely. I don’t want to be here anymore, I just want to go home, but I’ve made promises to my family that I will at least try and trust me, I am really giving it my all. Some days are easier than others, but the nights are the worst. This is when it is too quiet, not just in the house, but in the world too. Looking out my window, I can’t see any stars tonight, I wonder if it is a new moon. I’m grateful for my thoughts – I still have them for now.
I want to cry, but I want to stay calm. If I let myself go, I can easily see a panic attack coming on, but I will myself, to keep it together. How did I end up here? I was living a good life. People loved me and looked up to me. I was a role model and the pilar of the community. I was even on the PTA for four consecutive years.
Only a year ago, I was living a dream, but it has turned into a nightmare, and I want to wake up from it, but I can’t. I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks, but I can’t stop them. I am exhausted. All this must be puzzling, and I apologize for my scattered thoughts.
Perhaps, I should start from the beginning…
JOURNAL ENTRY – November 16, 2016
My mom notices the difference in me. I denied it, of course, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. The worry in her eyes has returned.
However depressed I am, I desperately try with all my might to make myself happy. I try socializing and hanging out with my mom in the kitchen, while she cooks us dinner, and watching movies with her cuddled up beside her, guarded by the warmth of the blankets, listening to the cracking in the fireplace.
Subsequently, I am struggling. The underlining urge to cut is creeping its way back into my head, like a worm. I tossed all my blades I had hidden throughout the house, all fifty of them.
However, I can’t restrain my desires, I break. I can’t do it anymore. I pretend I am okay or that I am happy, but I can’t fake it anymore.
Luckily, my mom is stopping by the grocery store on her way home. It gives me enough time to do what I’ve been longing to do, yet dreading, for the past week.
Do you know what it feels like to want something so bad, but at the same time, it makes you sick to your stomach, wanting to vomit? That’s me, as I pathetically, once again find myself digging through the trash bin outside, dumping out old, smelly trash, not being able to remember what bag contains my savior, my life, my blades. I find them wrapped neatly and carefully in between the Kleenex and paper towels, just as I had left them, unscathed.
– Frankie