Don't Trust Me

Chapter One: Silence

...My heart is heavy and full of remorse. Usually remorse comes from the loss of a loved one or from something extremely devastating. No, it's not that kind of remorse. As much as I don't believe in pity parties, I sure do have my moments of deep depression. At times, I get tired of complaining about life. There are people out there who are in way worse situations than me. The best way I know how to move on is to bury everything deep inside, and live my life. I don't know.

For three years I've been struggling with hardcore abdominal pain. I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. This condition is basically a physiological disorder associated with the intestines. The pains can be quite unbearable and sharp shooting. Along with irritable bowel is constipation, diarrhea, bloating, discomfort, food intolerances, and frequent abdominal pain. Highschool hasn't been a breeze, so thank God for graduation. Overtime I begin to develop a lower pelvic pain that seemed to worsen during my menstrual period. I could have endometriosis or a bad case of cysts forming on my ovaries. I'm known for getting them quite a bit. It all started with a huge ovarian cyst on my left ovary. I was in the hospital for a huge chunk of the school year. Some of my peers were surprised how I even passed sophomore year.

Anyways, life went on after graduation. My next plan of action was to go to work with my dad at this huge factory company. The job seemed like it would've been tough for me, but faith kept my well being afloat. Well, it kept me afloat for another job. Life handed over another job in the meantime with a touch of my mom's tongue, she is the reason why I received a part time job to start out with. With my condition, it didn't go pretty well, but the joy of working was there. Meeting new people made my day by having quick conversations with every new face I seen come up on my line. Being a cashier wasn't as horrible as it seemed to be. Thanksgiving and Christmas were the busiest time of the year. The job was kind of difficult at first because my application actually got pulled up above all of the other kids, so that was a blessing. Being hired at the busiest time of the year did not mix well. The cash register was not my best friend at first, but than we became acquainted with each other. Life was pretty good, despite my ongoing pain, and constant urge of having to use the bathroom, decency didn't really bother me.

Having faith goes along way, but this time, it was a true trial. Christmas ended, and it was time to go back into work, or so I thought. Sometimes, quitting seems like the better option. Nothing is more heartbreaking than getting fired. Making repetitious mistakes on the cash register wasn't excepted and my boss had to let me go. Honestly, that cut like a knife. The only reason why disappointment came across my face was because my cashier skills in the beginning were terrible, meaning I should've been fired a long time ago, but the mangers were very lenient enough to keep giving me second chances. Eventually, my skills were up to par and my performance increased by a long shot. Getting fired was a hurt piece, especially after improving greatly.

Now that unemployment is under my belt, I've had time to focus on getting healthy again. My diet has changed and exercise has become a side partner in everything.

Time flies by, and the symptoms have gotten worse. Doctor appointments haven't been my best friend. In the past, when all hell broke lose, doctors have been nothing but a nightmare. No one understands what it's like to have IBS unless one lives with it. Having current ovarian cysts doesn't help either. Birth control isn't a favorite either, but what else can I do?

Complaining gets old, no one wants to really hear about it anymore, and life just keeps getting in the way. Sometimes opting out for suicide seems pretty legit, but it wouldn't be fair to my family, friends and even myself. I hate self pity and try my hardest not to tolerate it.

Oh, I forgot...mental abuse from my father... I guess that's in the norm too. Dealing with anxiety and depression is something I've tried to suppress throughout my life...how's that worked out for me? Before being mentally abused by my father, the depression I was going through was just more of a pity- like stage submerged deep into self hatred.
Immature right? My early teen years were the worst! I wouldn't even pay to go back to that, but it's quite hard to deal with. No offense to God, but sometimes, dying before birth seemed like a blessing. Pop in a few antidepressants though, and anyone would cherish life before they believed they were going to lose it. Before the flu came knocking on my doorstep, antidepressants came into my life for about two days. Never again! Medications for the mind really doesn't fly with me. I don't care who you are, trying things from a natural approach seems like the best option.

Life goes a little deeper than that, or maybe a tad farther. Who knows? My heart has been weary and tampered with repetitiously. With all of these problems on my shoulders, I'm trying to stay afloat. College isn't in my best interest because school is where my anxiety flares up the most, and I won't be damned if I lose all control and pass out in school.

These are the things that feed my quieted depression. There was a long point in time where depression wasn't in my life, but recently it has just came back around. Only God knows what's best for me. The thought of just sitting here doing nothing agitates me, so I obsess over my hobbies. With my deep fetishes for singing and dancing, opening up a business comes to mind from my lovely older sister, Ciera. For the last couple of days we were drawn so deeply into starting our own business where we're the boss. After being fired, being my own boss will be the highlight of it all. My mind is very sporadic and in all different kinds of places at one time. Fascinating isn't it? For age eighteen almost nineteen, working as a potential entrepreneur wouldn't be so bad.
In the end, hope is what's going to keep my wellbeing afloat. God has been a very important factor, even though I don't always do what He says. There is a sense of care and compassion there, but it's just complicated. Generally speaking, let's hope the age of nineteen will come for me. It's February now, and my birthday is in June. Suicide is never the answer...but sometimes being alive hurts all the more.

Believing in God has been a great factor of keeping myself alive since I believe hell exist. That is the one thing holding back my will power to let go and just freaking die already. Laughter is hard to keep back, but sorrow has penetrated my heart so deeply. These thinking patterns of suicide is clearly a cry for help, but even I'm tired of crying. That's why I've chosen to remain silent...at least for now. Silence is killing me right now. Shutting up hasn't been my best quality, and I've failed every time.

...Maybe silence is the best way to go for right now. I'm tired of talking, speaking, expressing, comprehending, and discussing about the same old topics constantly. I hate complaining, and I'm tired of being tied down to my body full of pain and other complications. It's official, I know I'm depressed. I am depressed and I can no longer deny it. Now what happens next, well nothing. I just move on I guess. I'll keep finding ways to stay busy and move up...but for how long? Only time will tell.

Don't say another word Alana.
Don't even dare speak or complain.
Remain silent.
Stay Silent.

I have no choice but to keep silent.

Ssshhhhhhhh...