Talk About It.

5th Grade- My Rapid Deterioration

All my friends were gone.

  Kiana, Reese, Jaya, Noah, Levi, Meghan, Louise, Natalie, Emma, Brooklyn, Devin, Angel, Manuiah, Issac, Tate, Eric, Parker, Ian, Lexi. Lexi was a best friend. We had been close since kindergarten. I swore for the first time in her company, I learned not to with her, I discovered little bits of myself that I didn't previously understand. I think her disappearence hurt me more than anyone else's.

  I was alone.

 My teacher was Mrs. Banning. She hated me and I hated her twice as much. She made fun of my ridiculous height (I'm 14 years old and 5'11, I believe I was 5'8 back in the day). She was a short lady and now assume I intimidated her. She made a public laugh of how my curly hair was always styled perfectly and how my outfits were put together. Because of her, people never spoke to me. They thought I was too prissy and perfect.

They didn't know I spent every night and every morning preparing my outfit for the day. They didn't know it was the center of my thoughts. They couldn't have understood how much anxiety it gave me. After years of having to live up to my reputation, to live up to my friend's perfect standards, I was left with an overwhelming fear of letting them down. Even when they were gone.

Now, I was being laughed at for it. So, I switched rooms. Now I was in Mrs. Vigil's class. She was a frizzy-haired lady who wore bright and funky clothing. I felt at home with her. The students in her class were like a family. These kids used to be the ones under the slide. The people I had previously labeled as weirdos. Now, they were aspiring emos and little scholars. Wonderful people I had never given a second glance. So I let down my guard. I became close friends with them (I still am very close with a few).

  But, of course, their depression got to me. I was already weak and this just swept me up like the tide. I sank so low and became so dark.

At this point in my life, many health issues were starting to flood in. I was (and still am) lacking many of the minerals, vitamins and chemicals you need for a healthy brain. I developed a gluten+dairy allergy. This made me increasingly more miserable.

My friends made jokes about dying, drugs, and divorce. I thought it was normal.

Now that I was with these people who I didn't have to be perfect around, I broke. I stopped caring. Years of holding myself together only to fall apart at the hands of someone just as fractured and delicate as I was.

My friends and I tested out the water for rebellious activity. We hardly payed any attention in class, we pushed the line as far as we could. Mrs. Vigil was laid back and kind. Either she didn't notice us exchanging a paper with a Would You Rather game on it, or she didn't care. I guessed it was the latter.

This year was full of metal bands, dark clothing and absolutely awful drawings.

As comical as that seems, it really was harrowing.

I began cutting. After a few weeks of feeling I didn't have to live up to anything, I thought I'm not sad enough unless I do this to myself.  I wore long sleeves and band aids. The worst thing may be that, even though I started out of the desperate need to fit it, I kept doing it because the violence became almost therapeutic. I found that the prickle of blood on my skin brought a nasty, wide grin to my face. Every time.

I had a friend named Autumn. In fifth grade we kind of separated. She was happy, I was not. Bella, another friend of mine. Seeing them together, without me, truly hurt. For some reason they were angry with me. They hid behind portable classrooms and whispered truly obscene things. Once, I was sitting on my little block of cement when Autumn shouted at me to kill myself. I fought back tears. 

Luckily, a few of my pals came around to sit with me. I'd wait there on that cement block with them for a 6th grader named Camden to come out of his portable for lunch. It would just be a moment where he would pass me, but he always came over to exchange a few words.

This particular day, I guess I forgot a band-aid. He saw the blood leak onto my sleeve. With confused eyes, he looked up at me. "Why? You're better than that. I know you are." This was monumental for me. You see, Camden was not the type for kindness. He was the cool, sly older boy that everyone knew and only the prettiest girls were friends with. I had never seen him with such emotion on his face. My friends realized this, too. He walked to the cafeteria doors without breaking eye contact. I was so happy. I realized, yes, I am better than that. I'm unsure what really clicked that moment, but I knew I wouldn't cut again. Even for this petty crush.

   However, it wouldn't end that easily. Autumn had seen this go down. She thought I started because of her. She was crying in the field when the lunch aid found her. Autumn told the aid everything, and after returning to class and enduring an hour of anxiety, I was called to the office. My principal was a rude, monotone-speaking man named Mr. Butler. I was truly afraid of him. He sat with me for twenty minutes while I tried to choke out an explanation.

  At the time, I thought he wanted to punish me. I know now he only wanted to help. His tactics weren't so good, though. He accused me of doing this for attention. He said I told Autumn that this was all her fault. None of that was true. I didn't cry at all. Anxiety and my fear of crying at school prevented that. Mr. Butler stood up and walked me to the school psychologist's office. He said he would call my mom, and if she agreed to it, I would stay there for an hour after school to speak with the psychologist. When he called, I heard my sister's voice on the other end. You see, this was amazing for me. I've grown up in a household where depression, suicide and mental illness is never discussed. I thought I would be grounded or have all my things taken away. But my older sister had gone through things similar to what I was. She told the principal to let come home. Despite my relief, this sparked a problem with authority figures. I felt they were always ut to hurt me.

5th grade came and went like an unpleasant aunt.

6th grade would change the game once more.