How A Mislabeled Gatorade Saved My Life

The Story

The day is Tuesday October 25th, 2016, and today I had my first victory within six days in the form of an athletic drink.

I'll explain.

The day is Thursday, October 20th. I woke up falling off the bed because my alarm scared me. I was excited for some Lucky Charms, but oh no, we had to be out of them, so I ate a croissant. That was sad, but it was only the beginning. I had to go to wait at the bus stop in the rain while the bus ran late. My only saving grace, the only thing keeping me going was that there was Gatorade in the vending machine at school. When I got to school, lo and behold, there was absolutely not a single Gatorade in the vending machine. I was so tired after after a night of not sleeping that I almost fell asleep in class. The day went on, and it got a lot worse. Pre-marching band practice. I was sitting there with a bunch of my friends when I got a text from my boyfriend saying he wanted to talk to me after practice. I was so scared of what he was going to say that I could barely focus on practice. Then we went to practice in the rain and cold, and I was not prepared. No windbreaker jacket, no gloves, no nothing. Practice ended, and I was so terrified. He told me he wanted to break up, and even if I won't tell you why, but it made me feel like a real ass. I was having trouble sleeping from it, looking at all angles I could've changed it.

The day is Friday, October 21st. I was extremely unable to focus on a single thing, not even listening to music, my Feel-Good Tracks playlist, which I made myself to make me, as the name implies, feel good. I just spent the whole time doing what I had that previous night, and I was sure that whatever I'd done, it was horribly done. At least I had band class to sort of help me feel better.

The day is Saturday, October 22nd. There was a marching competition. It was freezing and windy, and the wind was even colder. My Under Armor hoodie wasn't doing shit to keep the wind out, and my bangs kept falling out of my hat into my eyes. The pre-competition practice dragged on half an hour late of what it was: cold, windy, and now I was even starving. The competition went on, and I only got a small bit of peace on the bus. I was listening to music, and I was still unfocused. The night at the competition was colder than at practice, and we were sitting in the bleachers in the cold with, not to mention, fingerless gloves for several more bands' performances. I got a little more peace on the way back to school with music in my ears, eyes closed, and acting like I was asleep so I wouldn't get bugged by anyone.

The day is Sunday, October 23rd. I had church that morning, rushing to get in the shower and not be late. I had a plan, and that was to come out to my parents. I had tried time and time again to get the confidence to do so, and this time I had it. I was going to do so that night. After church we went to go watch a movie, but the movie theater had no power. We later went home to watch a movie, and I spent time thinking about what I would say. When we started watching a movie that night, I was getting ready. My mom realized that we'd forgotten my cousin's birthday, so se rushed over. I had to face something that I'm forced to face every year and I was definitely not ready to face it this year. I was done, one hundred percent done, and I burst out crying there in the driveway and couldn't do so for a while. My uncle poked fun at it, and I yelled in his face how done I was about it. He definitely wasn't expecting that, for the first time in fifteen years, he must've realized how bad it made me feel and how done I truly was. But that was temporary. But I wasn't crying from fear, I was crying because I needed to cry it out after the past three days. I had to. I'd been bottling in all the stress from stuff I had and hadn't mentioned and I needed to let it out. I decided to try using two of the options of the Trevor Project: TrevorText and TrevorChat, but neither were available. When I needed the program most, it wasn't there. I was scared to talk to someone else about it, but dammit, the Trevor Project wasn't there.

The day is Monday, October 24th, 2016. I was thinking again, hoping it would be fine, but dammit, I knew I wouldn't. I had practice again that night, and I wasn't ready. Maybe slightly more than I had been that Thursday on, of course, I was ready for the weather, but not everything else. I wasn't ready to see the guy that I care about most that I'd unintentionally hurt, and it was hurting me. I wasn't ready to face my own mistake that had and has been burdening me since. I couldn't work with the band. I wanted to work, but my body wouldn't let me. It was like I was trying to run, but sandbags were tied to my ankles. Something was holding my body back.

The day is Tuesday, October 25th, 2016. I knew that I wasn't feeling good, not just mentally, but physically. I'd noticed that I had been feeling sick, weak, constantly cold, and beginning to cough, just like I had when I was in sixth grade. That sickness was hell, and I felt like I was dying, I maybe almost did. It's possibly coming back, I am scared as hell. I was getting ready for school, and when I was done, my dad said he could drive me there. I got to school, and when I got to school all tired and frail, I was greeted by friends unaware of how I feel. I had a normal conversation, hanging out, and when I turned my head for one second, I noticed a sight that made me want to cry.

There was Gatorade in the vending machines. The thing that started it all, the thing that kept me going, was there and just in my grasp, and what was better? I had money with me. I went to that vending machine and touched the glass blocking me from the Gatorade, and it felt like I was touching the face of God Himself. I bought the Gatorade, and my friends seemed confused of my reaction. You, the reader, probably are too. I will explain why.

That Gatorade meant something to me. It meant more than just a blue raspberry-flavored drink wrongly labeled as grape. It meant so much.

It was a symbol. A symbol that anything is possible, that I can keep going. A symbol that I can do anything. A sacred drink, embodying something I hadn't felt.

It was a symbol of hope that it will be better soon. I don't know if it will, and I don't know when it will, but it will at some point. The fact that it was there meant that I can win.

I refuse to open that Gatorade, the holy elixir. The symbol of hope. The purity of a mislabeled drink will only be unsullied by not opening it, I don't know why.

I wrote something on top of it to remind me of my hope so when I look at that Gatorade every day on, I can be reminded that I can do it.

The day is Tuesday, October 25th, 2016. I know it will get better soon, come Hell or high water.