Hope

As a kid, I had great aspirations in life. 
At one point, I was going to be a professional athlete. 
The next, a doctor. A physician or RAD tech, more specifically.
But then one day, as if a meteor came out of the sky and literally hit me, I knew.

I remember the night so clear. The night it all started. The night where my search for life truly, and unfortunately began.
I was in my room, feeling so alone. And it just felt so easy. The harm. The sadness. The depression. He was gone. My best friend, my support, my dad, wasn't here anymore. And I had to do this on my own now. I couldn't lean on him. I couldn't run to his room crying from the nightmares. He wasn't there to protect me anymore. A phone call every now and then, but he didn't feel real anymore.
Life went on. The sun would rise, but I wouldn't. I shielded my windows. Confined myself in darkness. Literal and utter complete darkness. Now don't take this wrong, it wasn't his fault. Some of us go our whole lives with depression and can live with it. Some of us just can't.
And I couldn't.

Counselor after counselor. "Why do you do this?" "Why do you do that?" "Why do you feel this way?"
Another visit to the doctor.
Another friend calling my parents.
"Should we take her to the hospital?" "Is she doing this for attention?" "What do we do?"
God. Why couldn't it just stop?
Nothing. I didn't want you to do anything except just understand.
Sure. I popped pills. Probably way too young in my life. But at least I slept. At least I could get away from this nightmare I was living. 
Soon it was rumor after rumor.
Another friend leaving my side.
Flunking out of school.
Laying in my bed.
I was nothing.

You see, in life, we don't expect these things. We don't expect to be put on five different medications. One for depression, one for anxiety, sleep, whatever the hell else we feel is "wrong" with us. Because that's how the world treats us. We're something that needs to be fixed. But in reality, we're going to be the ones in the end who lived, and didn't just survive. We didn't get in our cars every day, go to work, go home, make dinner, watch our show, and go to bed. We laid in bed, trying to find reason to get in our cars. We went to therapists and doctors and support groups. We met those who were struggling with the same types of things we were. We struggled and we fought.
Don't get me wrong here, I'm not saying that every other person in this world doesn't have struggles. Because we all do. Every. Single. Damn. One of us. And that's just it. We all do. Yet, here I've laid in my bed for nearly an entire semester trying to get myself out of bed for just one day. Get to all my classes for just one week. Whereas, I've completely forgotten about those who could be struggling worse. And so to clear up what this rambling post is about, here's my story.

Where I am today, is not where I ever expected to be.
When I was young, I knew I felt different. I didn't dress "girly". I didn't hang out with girls.
I lost a lot of friends. I'd gain a really great friend, and they'd move. I can think of five different instances, to be exact.
It started with soccer, then on to basketball. 
Soon, softball came along and I was doing all three at once.
Junior high hit, and these "different" feelings started to really come out. I felt alone. Saddened by things I shouldn't have exactly been saddened by.
Yet, life continued. I thought I'd fight through it. My parents were a great support, but didn't want a child with depression.
So, I set a goal. I'd be a professional athlete. I wanted to be on the Women's USA Softball team. I wanted to compete in the Olympics. Get scholarships to amazing colleges. I fought for it. But fighting just wasn't enough.
Self harm came along, and so did anger and hate.
It was small at first, but by the ninth grade, I was falling deep.
Deeper than I could ever imagine.
And so I gave up. Being an athlete wasn't for me. I had wrist surgery and that just ended it for me. My career was over before it even began.
So once I was getting "help", I thought "well, maybe I can "help" others too."
I started taking medical classes. I really thought I'd make a great doctor. But soon enough, I stopped caring. I was failing the classes, I stopped going, and laid in my bed once again. Fighting.
One day, my sophomore year of high school, I'd heard there was something called drumline starting up. So I said what the hell, and joined. It was great. I made great friends. We made a show. We performed. 
The next year rolled around and I wanted to continue, but my grades were failing. I needed a 2.0 GPA to compete, but I didn't even have that. So, instead of rehearsing with the group, the instructors made me do homework. I pulled my grades up, and could perform again.
One day, my band director pulled me into his office and sat me down. He'd noticed my grades, noticed I wasn't coming to school much, and hardly ever talked. So he just asked, "Are you okay?"
I sat in his office and I cried to him. If it weren't for this man, I wouldn't be writing this tonight.

The point of all of this is not necessarily for anyone to even read it. Because think about it, my blog isn't famous. I'm just a small college student fighting through life. The point of this is for me to say that I don't want to be famous. I don't want a huge recognition. I just want to change someones life like so many others have changed mine. I want to sit in front of my band one day and show them hilarious videos I made as a teenager and tell them it's okay to have fun. I want to check their grades, and help them through life. I want them to practice and compete. I want them to perform to the best of their abilities. Not for me, but for them. Because I was them once. I was that kid who was struggling so hard in life, and when someone actually noticed, it gave me hope. And that's all I want to do in this world. I want to give someone, it doesn't have to be tons, even just one, hope. We all get down. We all struggle. Life sucks. But together, we create hope. And that's who I want to be. I want to be hope.