Dear Katherine

And so it begins

Dear Katherine,

     You were quite busy for the rest of the week. Luckily for me, you told me what you were so busy with.  You were booked every night for gigs at parties or restaurants, you were entered in two marathons within the week (one on Tuesday morning and one on Friday morning), and you had a two-day fund-raising thing for one of the charities you were in (on Wednesday and Thursday).

     I had accompanied you on your run during Tuesday morning. You were running twenty-something kilometers and I only ran five. And I barely even made it.

     The rest of the day, I had slept in. But at least I got to hang out with you. I also was there to see you in all of your gigs throughout the week, and was there in your fund-raising thing on Thursday.

      When Saturday finally came around, we hung out at a local restaurant. You were really happy, and you told that you were relieved to take a break.

     “Yeah, it looks like you’re actually busier in the summer than you are in the school-year,” I had said off-handedly.

     “True,” you agreed.                                                                         

     “Don’t you get tired?”

     “Of course I do,” you had chuckled. “But I like staying busy.”

     “Why?” I had asked you. You really puzzled me that day, Kath.

     “Because…” you had trailed off.  “Because I tend to think too much. And my thoughts aren’t necessarily as pure and positive as I’d like them to be. I also have no talent in pushing certain thoughts away and not being affected by some of them. Being busy helps me because it’s a distraction from my thoughts.”

     “So instead of everything weighing you down and just being with yourself and your thoughts is acting as your relief, being with your thoughts is the thing weighing you down and everything else going on is your form of relief?”

     You had nodded. “Yes, somewhat like that.”

     When we had finished eating, we took a stroll through a nearby neighborhood. “Why aren’t your thoughts positive, Kath?” I had asked you.

     “I honestly don’t know.” We were quiet for a long time, until you told me something that made me stop in my tracks.

     “Do you know that I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety when I was fourteen years old?”

     “What?” I had looked you in the eyes. And beneath the beautiful green, I saw a sadness and a loneliness within them as you recalled your memories from a few years back.

     “So young?” I spoke.

     You pursed your lips and nodded as you fiddled with the ends of your shirt. “I had friends. I wasn’t bullied. I got decent grades. My family loved me. But… I always felt incomplete. I couldn’t relate to my so-called ‘friends’ because their passions where gaming, blogging, and celebrities. Mine were photography, running, playing with animals…

      “There was this one time that we went on a field trip to this mountain. We were at the very top and we were looking down at a small town and it was so beautiful. The grass was so green, the soil was so healthy, the trees were so tall and strong, and sky was so blue, and the sun was shining bright despite the clouds covering it. And for the first time in forever, I had felt complete. I didn’t utter a sound. But my friends? They were all ‘omg, it’s so pretty!’ ‘oh just like you, girl.’ ‘oh stop it, you’re even prettier than me. that’s why he doesn’t like me, because I’m not pretty.’ It was annoying and so frustrating! And all the wholeness I felt completely washed away and all hope I had was lost. I lost hope in humanity because of those girls—because of one single conversation they had that wasn’t even meant to hurt anybody. But it left me feeling hopeless. That was how sensitive I was.

      “After that week, I over-ate and I hardly slept and my grades plummeted and I stopped reading novels and I stopped listening to music and I stopped feeding my pets. I just stayed in my room and stared at the wall, or the ceiling or… or anything. I wouldn’t do anything! My parents talked to the school principal and she sent my parents to the school’s guidance counselor. They told her what was going on with me. She said I was depressed. So my parents took me to a therapist of some sorts and she confirmed my depression.”

     I was left speechless, Kath. I was so shocked. I couldn’t imagine you being depressed. You were so radiant, so bright, so happy, so beautiful…

     “I wish I was there to make you happy.”

     “I didn’t need anyone to make me happy, Jonathan. I just needed assurance that I would be okay in this world.”

     We walked in silence as the sun started to go down. “When did you recover?”

     “I only felt better a year later. But along the way, I also suffered from anxiety. I would get anxiety attacks in the middle of the day, in the middle of class. Because of that, people thought I was weird. That was why I switched schools.”

     “I… I don’t know what to say.”

     “Me too.”

     And as I processed this, you suddenly hugged me out of nowhere. I hugged you back after a few moments. But you hugged me until you felt alright, and until I felt alright, and until I saw the stars above us shining bright.

     “I’m not completely recovered yet,” you had whispered.

     “You’ll be okay, Kath.”

     You didn’t say anything. “You make everything okay for me.”

     “And I’ll try my best to until the day my heart turns black and blue.”

     Do you still remember when I said that, Kath? I meant it. I really really meant it.

     Forever yours,

     Jonathan