(self-titled)

This is a picture I took of my third eye. Look into my stream of consciousness. Ideas swim steadily under the surface as they move toward my peripheral vision. One, in particular, sparks my interest, like gasoline on water. That thought, in the tributary, ignites in a splendid display between synapses as it is focused upon. At this moment, my attention is directed toward my past.  

     (Silence). I used to never be able to talk about what was going on in my life. (Timidness). I was scared what people would think if they knew certain things about me. (Caution). I knew that society would have looked down upon many of the aspects of my life if I opened up. (Opportunity) I could have confided in several friends and family but, for a long time, I never did. Eventually, I overcame the fear of stigmata (i.e. "a distinguishing personal trait that is perceived as or actually is physically, socially, or psychologically disadvantageous" (medical dictionary definition)). A stigma to a person is like a stereotype is to a group of people. It may be true for some of who you are, but not all.  I forgave myself for the stigmas that, in fact, reflected certain, true aspects of my self. Just like stereotypes, stigmas are founded in some, no matter how minuscule, amount of truth. This is how I conquered the prejudice of depression. 
     First, I failed. I lied to my parents. I had almost no communication with my three younger sisters and I never saw my relatives, except on holidays and special occasions. My friends were great but I had I caged my emotions like a Mako shark in a goldfish bowl. The glass just couldn't hold back the hate and pity for myself and the sheer mass of misery infecting my soul/mind and body. 

                   I’m not worth your anxiety
                   This pestilence grows in me
                   It has taken over my mind
                   Now it’s all I can ever be

I tried to conquer my demons on my own but they were too powerful. It became apparent that something was wrong. I couldn't hide it any longer. 

                   I just want to cry
                   Pain is only a feeling
                   Sorrow is only a feeling
                   Death is the feeling of being alive

Being 18, I am the oldest child in my family.  I have three younger sisters; Courtney (16), Lindsey (11) and Carly (7).  My parents are Beth and John and they have been married for over 20 years.  (I don’t think it’s necessary for you to know their ages…).   My grandparents on my dad’s side of the family had ten kids so as you can imagine, Christmas is quite a party with all of my relatives.  My Grandpa died of cancer when I was only 6, but I have many memories of him.  Whenever, I went over to my grandparents house as a kid I would talk to my grandpa for hours.  One time, while sitting on HIS chair I was eating marshmallows.   He watched me eat them for a while and finally told me I was eating them wrong. I wondered what other possible ways there were besides chewing or swallowing them whole.  He told me to roll them, one at a time, into a ball and let them dissolve into my mouth.  I was fascinated and still am and how much better they taste by doing this.       

I grew up in Edgewood, Northern Kentucky and I went to R.C. Hinsdale for pre-school.  For grade school I went to St. Pius X.  Mr. Jameson was the coolest grade school teacher anyone could ever have.  “Kipper Day” (Herring) was the best. Through those years I liked to play paintball (we had an amazing setup behind a friends’ house) and ski with some friends and my dad when we went out west (weather permitting).  Also, I got an XBOX for my birthday after it first came out and once I mastered Halo I stopped playing.  I’ve always been involved in art, especially with how it runs in the family.  I was the guy who could draw GOOD in grade school art classes where a lot of people finally learned how to color inside the lines.  I started playing guitar off and on in 7^th grade and finally got serious about playing within the past few years.  I was very indecisive about where I wanted to go for high school.  Most everyone in my grade was going to Cov Cath, but I didn’t want to be like everyone else.

So, I went to St. Henry.  I didn’t necessarily want to go there.  I never really looked into Cov Cath or even considered it an option.  I came to hate St. Henry and everything about it.  I ran track and, with the coach being a former NFL player, the practices were intense to say the least.  Everyday I was ridiculed and yelled at to my face by other students, for no reason. Lunch was the worst. Besides the food being terrible and not even comparing to what it is at Cov Cath and NKU.. People called me names and were so demeaning that I usually sat next to a few girls I met at school.  Yet, I realize I went into that school with the mindset that I would not like it.  I didn’t really give people there a chance either.  I had a perfect GPA but I was miserable.  I couldn’t relate to any of the students, though I did try eventually.  

I switched to CovCath after that year.  I looked forward to starting anew.  However, before sophomore year I began hanging out with some of my grade school friends that went to Cov Cath.  I just wanted to have people to hang out with and have a good time.  I began smoking cigarettes around the Fall and by December I started smoking weed.  The first time I did was out of boredom.  There was nothing else going on so I tried it with some other people.  If there had been something else going on that night I may have never done it or at least prolonged trying it.   It was simply available and we wanted to do something exciting.  Surround yourself with people who influence you in a positive way.  Stay active with friends and school so you will can stay out of trouble and have a good time, maybe even make a new friend. 

     I finished another glass

     You keep drinking and I pass

     The opportunity to numb

     My mind and to become

     The person I always hated

     I’m trying not to be faded

     When I see you I try not to think

     About the world and so I sink

     Into the darkness away from my friend

     It’s all so ironic in the end

     All I could wish is when you die

     People could know how hard you tried

     To stay alive I was there for you

     So you can die in peace, be true

     -ly content with how we lived

     So if there’s anything I can give

     To you it would be true happiness

     We could all use some forgiveness

I seemed happier to my parents.  Yet, I realized it was a false sense of happiness.  I lied to my parents constantly. I was distant from my family and they were oblivious to what I was doing.  I would go out for a night and say that we went to a movie when really I went to someone’s house for a party to drink.  I felt an obligation to be there for my sisters but I could never bring myself to talk to them like a brother should. I talked to them so little that any amount of conversation seemed almost awkward. I didn’t even know when their birthdays were and didn’t even get them presents.   Even if someone in my family was having a rough day couldn’t even bring myself to help them through.  I barely even responded when my parents said they loved me.

I began to feel like a waste and I didn’t know who I was anymore. Drugs masked my depression until the end of my junior year.  There were many setbacks that year.  On my birthday I got in a wreck coming back from Louisville.  I stayed up for two days straight working on my art for GSA.  On the way back I fell asleep at the wheel going about 80 mph.  I remember waking up as I hit the guardrail.  I wasn’t hurt at all but I got chills when I looked up and saw a sign.  It was the sign for the fatal bus crash that you heard about at the last assembly.  I spent my birthday waiting in the rain for a tow truck since AAA sent one to the wrong state to get my van. Yes, I used to drive a van. So, that got rid of that piece of junk. 

        Time is moving along.

        People are going places.

        Yet, looking at you,

        I forget all their faces.

        We are here together.

        It's been almost a year.

        I want to help you,

        and wipe all your tears.

        Please help me live.

        I don't know what to say.

        You are so beautiful.

        It's written on the page..

        Don't let me go.

        I can't die this way..

        Save me to show,

        How to die another day..

Later that month, a girl I thought I loved cheated on me. We were all partying at a friend’s house while his parents were out of town. Late in the night, I found out what she did earlier and I lost it.  I was already drunk and, after I found out, I just took as many pills as I could find.  I don’t remember much from that night except that I was cold.  I woke up with only shorts on and I was told that someone had to sleep with me to make sure I was going to make it through the night. I tried killing myself that night.  It almost worked, but it just wasn’t worth it.

             Tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,

             Who am I now? I don't even know..

             The days pass by, I don't feel anymore,

             My mind is numb, what am I dying for?

              She's so blind, yeah she doesn't care,

              When I die.. she will not be there..

              My stomach bleeds into my veins,

              Now it’s harder for me to digest the pain..

During sophomore year and junior year my grades never dropped below a 3.0 average but I was not living up to my full potential.  I was in honors classes but wasn’t doing well at all in Pre-Cal and U.S. History AP.  In my English AP class, though I didn't read the books I wasn't interested in, I had a good time.  When one of my teachers had his eye surgery it gave me room to joke around with him a little bit.  He said he was watching TV one night but couldn’t see the screen.  It made me think.  Blind people must be hilarious to watch.  They could think they had been watching TV for the past hour but for all they know they could be staring at a wall the whole time.  The art room has always been a sanctuary for me and many other students.  It’s a place to hang out, work on what you want to, and actually have a good time in school.  Listening to music while you’re in there helps a lot too.

 I quit doing drugs during the summer before senior year and I began hanging out with all new people.  They were friends I could really talk to, be myself around, and still have a good time.  We didn’t need to go to a party and get wasted. I had people that I felt could help. If something came up I asked them for advice.  My new friends were from Cov Cath but through them I have met many other people from other schools and backgrounds.  They were and are my first true friends.  I felt I was finally starting to be truly happy.

However, without drugs to fall back on, I had to deal with my issues differently.  I still hid most of what was really going on in my life from my parents.  I thought about problems too much and they really got to me.  I constantly felt anxiety about girls, school, and the future in general.  I felt pressure to choose what I wanted to do with my life.  I wanted to find a girlfriend.. something more substantial than a physical attraction.  I became increasingly depressed from that point on.  It eventually got so bad I was only living for my art and my music as I realized that no one else could continue my work but myself.  I wanted to be able to leave something behind for anyone who cared. I didn’t care how selfish it was, suicide just seemed the only way out., The easy way out.

        You mystified us when you died
                    What made you not want to try?
                    Self-righteous genocide
                    Of your thoughts inside 

                    Who will ever finish?
                    Your work or replenish
                    The emptiness you left us with
                    To forgive and forget is a myth

During that time I constantly thought about taking my life. I did every day and I couldn’t help it.  Thoughts would come to me and never leave my mind.  I didn’t want to really tell anyone because of how worried people might be, especially my parents.  I had some people I was close to that I was able to express what I was feeling or not feeling.  Yet, talking doesn’t do any good unless you act upon your words to better yourself and those around you. 

I was so detached from life that I became a Nihilist, a form of atheism, and I couldn’t find a reason why I even got up in the morning.  I began cutting as well.  It helped me feel.  Nothing else seemed to affect me.  The day after Christmas, this past year, I decided to run away.  I left in the middle of the night and just drove.  I didn’t know where I was going.  All I knew is that it felt good just to drive, to get away from everything.  I ended up driving 400 miles to St. Louis, where no one would expect to find me.  I stayed there for a day and slept in my car at night.  I came back, not because I couldn’t live out there on my own, but because I realized whom I took for granted: the people that care about me. 

I came back home on New Years around 9 pm.  I ate dinner with my family.  They were just happy to see me.  My dad even told me a story of how he did the same once when he was my age. I went to a party after that and pretended like nothing had ever happened.  It’s much harder to be depressed in a full room of people so I tried to enjoy it.  Only a few of my closest friends knew.  I wanted to give them some peace of mind that I was ok.. But, I wasn’t.  Things didn’t change and only got worse.  There were times that I held a knife to my throat and just wondered what was holding me back. 

                       Should I tie the rope or use the knife?
                       Will I run away or live this life?
                       Should I stop the bleeding or let it go?
                       If you find a reason to live let me know.

                       I look in the mirror, what do I see?
                       Nothing is in there, it’s not me..
                       I feel no pain; I’ve seen it all,
                       My body will sway and hit the wall.

When my parents saw the scars on my arms I decided to tell them most of what was going on.  They had many questions.  Most of them started with “Why”.  I didn’t really know how to answer them.  I tried to give them hope that everything would get better but even I didn’t believe what I was saying.  They got me to a psychologist and a psychiatrist.  Anthem. That's the name of the medical insurance company in which I now have a policy under ever since I was diagnosed with severe depression. I'm too expensive to cover to be under my family's policy. That's what I got for getting the help I needed, yet, this is a small price to pay when you consider the alternative. Depression is hard to explain and even harder for people to understand who have not experienced it themselves. For some, they do not feel anything and for others it is pure frustration and sadness. I was numb. "Life" was nothing but a sound heard from someone’s lips or a word written on a page. I was apathetic. I didn’t care for the people close to me or even myself.  We found out my condition was biological and involved my brain not producing enough serotonin, a mood elevator.  I also found out that is why some people cut, why I did.  Cutting actually releases serotonin in the brain, similar to what exercise does for you.  I found it more than a coincidence how most people you would picture as depressed do not get much exercise.  I was put on anti-depressants and it has helped greatly.  I feel alive again.  I think I’m on the right path but I know it isn’t over yet.  The medication isn’t the final answer.  I do everything I possibly can to feel better. I don't talk about this subject, ever, unless it is to bring out awareness and help others.  I don't want the attention anymore.  I don't want the label of someone who is or was depressed. I was never depressed; most of me was, however.  There was always a sign of life and now it is fully revitalized.

                    Self pity exchanged for misery,

                    Tears shed for attention..

                    Stay content as they worry,

                    Never forget to mention..

                    You will be fine,

                    You apologize,

                    We will forgive you,

                     If you realize..

                     You caused us pain..

                     Anxiety and strain..

                     Learn from these times,

                     It can’t happen again..

                     Don’t be so selfish,

                     You are our friend..

                     You caused us pain..

                     Anxiety and strain..

I talk to my friends as much as possible for support. They mean so much to me and I feel guilty for the how much they had to worry. I know that if I ever begin feeling depressed again I can talk to them to help me through.  My friends now are much different from my old friends.  There is a sense of trust that can only exist with true friends.  We hang out almost every day even if there is nothing to do.  We help each other and don’t hold back what we need to say.

                    Forgive yourself..
                    What you have done,
                    What you failed to do,
                    Regret collects dust on my shelf..

I now feel truly part of my family.  I go out to eat with my parents on occasion and give me sisters the help they need growing up. I even play Wii Golf with my mom whenever she feels like she can actually out-putt me. I’m a Pro. I visit my grandma every week. I go over to my Uncle’s house every weekend for help with photography (he teaches at NKU) and I’ve developed a much better relationship with the rest of my relatives like one of my Aunt’s who teaches art at Seven Hills. I try to give other people help with their issues. I want to do everything I can to keep people from feeling the way I did. That’s why I am here today. I feel a need to share my experience, so maybe someone can relate or want to seek help and guidance.

Your social life should help you find out who you are.. not define who you are.  You need to be yourself around your friends.  A friend isn’t just someone you see everyday at school.  At school you may only talk to them about music, a movie or the game that was on the other night.  A true friend is someone you trust, someone you can go to for help, and perhaps, most importantly, someone that will not judge you outright if you make a mistake.  Our lives are filled with mistakes.  We cannot let them define us.  Mistakes are life lessons and opportunities for growth, but only if we are willing to discover why.         

I used to not think too much of people asking me “how was your day?”  Now I look at it as something much deeper.  What happens in a person’s day may be the result of what may have happened all week, the whole month, or all year.  The fact that it was asked how one specific day was could be totally irrelevant.  They may respond as if they were asked how they are in general.  This could lead to a much longer story, as it did for me. 

So, next time you ask someone about their day try to find out more about them.  Try to do it consistently because that simple question shows you care and are thinking about the person.  It means more to them than you may think.  We cannot afford to forget how we felt or thought of someone. If we feel a connection with someone it allows us to start building bridges and finding common ground. That is how you begin a friendship. True friends are priceless. They can help save your life and they should help you become more of who you are now. Do not be afraid to start talking to others. This helps you become a true member of your community. Help others and they will help you more than you, at first, truly realize. How will you know who will or will not be one of your friends someday? Provide everyone and anyone with an open ear and open arms.  You may save a life and not even know it.