Down the Rabbit Hole, I Go
For as long as I can remember I haven’t had a good night's rest or even a peaceful day. Depression is a dark cloud that has hung above my head since I was twelve years old. It is the very thing that clouds my mind and makes me doubt every decision I make. However, looking back I suppose I had good reason for feeling depressed. I grew up in a house with two parents who utterly despised one another. Why they even married I have no idea and neither do they. I can remember the fights and the tears. What I remember the most was putting on the headphones to my cd Walkman and trying to block it out by listening to music. Eventually I would find solace in the basement bar room with a bottle of brandy and music blaring on the stereo. My parents could care less where I was or what I was doing. Maybe it was better that way.
It gave me a chance to confront the demons that would forever haunt me. I was five years old when I was sexually assaulted by two neighborhood boys. I learned about sex at a young age and when those thoughts entered my mind, I felt dirty and ashamed. I wanted to scream but would I even be heard? I spent my teen years being bullied to the point where I was physically assaulted and still no one would listen. The teachers saw but did nothing and my parents were too caught up in their own problems to even listen. When they divorced, I made the decision to live with my mother and her new boyfriend who turned out to be a drug addict/alcoholic who enjoyed beating the crap out of her.
When he tried to sexually assault me, I ended up locking myself in my room everyday just to get away from him. I didn’t get to enjoy dances or parties at school for no one invited me and even if they did, I would be too afraid to go. It wasn’t until years later when I got a job working for my town’s local newspaper that I finally opened up. I lost the shyness and became outgoing. I felt that I owed it to myself to move past the darkness at least for the sake of my son. I became a single mom at twenty-five after traveling and making some stupid mistakes. I chose to put my son first and haven’t dated for fifteen years. I guess it was my way of healing especially after being in an abusive relationship myself.
As a news reporter I had the opportunity of meeting and interviewing famous celebrities who came to the area. I had not one but three columns one being a personal one. But then after five years of being on top it all came crumbling down. We would told that there would be cutbacks and judging by the way the publisher and editor looked at me I knew I would be the first to go. So, I ended up in the healthcare field. I always wanted to make a difference in the world and as a nurse's aide I did that at a local hospital, but the job was stressful, and I could feel myself mentally breaking down. I had too many patients to care for and too much weighing on my shoulders.
When I ended up hurt saving a patient from hitting the floor it tore up my back leaving me in a great deal of pain. But I still I pushed on working as an entry screener during Covid and in the process ended up with Covid Pneumonia which left me on death’s doorstep. I would later get it again and would once again find myself facing a health crisis. I thought for sure if I took a job at a pediatrics office that things would be better but then I had to care for my mother who has Parkinson’s on the weekend while holding down a full-time job that was well over forty hours a week. I was exhausted and to make matters worse I learned that my son was getting bullied and assaulted at school. When he sunk into a deep depression at thirteen and began talking about suicide, I knew I had to do something. I was barely home and when I was my son was shutting down. So, after one too many mental breakdowns at work, I quit my full-time job and began cyber schooling him. I cyber-schooled him for two years before sending him to a trade school.
However, things once again crumbled down around me. My landlords announced they were selling all of their rentals and I had to move out. I had thirty days to find a place and knew I couldn’t afford a single one of them. So, my son and I were forced to move in with my father. It’s funny how life works. I had longed to get away from that house for so long and had envisioned myself one day married with a career as a best-selling author. Instead, I spend my days depressed, suffering from severe anxiety, severe insomnia, and PTSD. Some days it takes everything I have to even get out of bed. I take a handful of meds that are supposed to help but do very little. Therapy sessions every week allow me to get things off my chest but it’s merely a band aide.
At the urging of my psychiatrist, I managed to find legalized medical marijuana gummies that for a few hours a day take the cloudiness away. I am relaxed and my mind is at ease at least for a while. Sometimes I feel like I have fallen down the rabbit hole and I can’t get out. I claw at the dark black earth until my fingers bleed but still end up tumbling backward. I don’t have a husband or boyfriend to hold me when I am down and the few friends, I have are too busy to listen. Sometimes I feel utterly alone in this world but then I look at my son who is the complete opposite of me. He’s outgoing and has friends. He has a desire for a girlfriend and knows exactly what he wants to do with his life. I have made sure to be there for him every step of the way.
Whether it’s listening to his problems or encouraging him to achieve his dreams. Meanwhile, I try to keep a hold of my own. I feel a bit of pride every time a story is published. I remain hopeful that my horror novel finally gets published after eight years of sitting on top of countless rejections. I hold on to hope that things will one day improve. It’s all I have. At some point, I have to find the strength to climb out of this dark hole. I have done it before, and I am determined to do it again. But it won’t be easy, and I know that. Until then I will keep on trying.
