I smiled my way through band practice. Maybe I shouldn't have joined back. Maybe I should've ignored the band director when he threw a few compliments at me regarding my instrumental abilities, it just felt so nice. Compliments that is. I never receive them so forgive me for being gullible and stupid. I heard of someone talking about me once again. (That's the third time this week) Usually I ignore it a push through but today was special. Today I was having an episode. I'm not too prideful to admit I have anxiety. Bad anxiety at that. Today started off okay then it slowly spiraled down into hell. I had my failed friendships and flaws in the past, and on a day like today those exact skeletons in my closet love to come into out. Out of the door which I have tried so very hard to lock. I tell myself I no longer care about those past occurrences and I haven't been bothered by them in a while but I guess when you haven't had an episode in a while when you finally get one its ten times worse.
Let's establish some emotional background shall we. I don't want to let anyone in because of how much emotional strain I've been put through and yet somehow I always end up with "friends." Honestly my past experiences were probably and most definitely partially my fault. I tried to become okay with those people and ended up getting my feelings destroyed once again in a failed attempt to get my best friend back. Needless today when I'm having a moment like today I bring all of those things onto myself again. It doesn't help that I have to stand by this person all practice.
Anywho back to today. I made it through all of my classes pretty okay, a little stressed but I'm a senior in high school it's normal. All was well until I got to the dreaded band class. Now don't get me wrong I love playing my instrument, a beautiful Bundy Clarinet, but the people I'm surrounded by cause constant pain and panic. The voice always in the back of my head constantly tells me they are talking about me. About how bad I am. About how stupid and undeserving I am. While I am a senior I have no authority in the band other than senior. I'm not a captain or anything of the sort. I'm just someone with experience. I tend to help my section as much as possible and they love me for it. No they don't. While most days I push through recently I've heard about of my so called "friends" talking immense crap about me. Saying things such as 'I have no idea what I'm talking about and I need to shut the fuck up' or how 'I'm too good to listen.' These things didn't bother me at first but over the last week the occurrences started adding up and I couldn't ignore them any longer. My own brain betrayed me when I couldn't take it anymore. I broke. I broke outside under the hot sun surrounded by my fellow band members. Our band director kept saying 'your eyes need to be at the press box. Because they are filled with pride. Because you have pride in this.' All I could hear was no I'm not. I'm not proud of myself. I'm worthless. No one likes me.
The first break was when the first tear slipped out. I had gotten my water and was laying the the grass, looking up at the white puffy, happy clouds. My two other "friends" were beside me talking. I say "friends" because despite the fact that I love them and already emotionally invested in the relationship I still don't fully trust them. One of them asked if I was okay. Asking me if I'm okay usually doesn't pan out well. That's usually the line I hear before bursting into tears. Today I just gazed up at the sky and simply stated "have you ever adored someone so much it's crazy and yet they are completely untouchable because they hate you." Then all I hear was silence before their attention was switched to the sky as a few droplets of water fell. One of them said is it raining and I laughed bitterly responding "nope it's my tears." My other friend surprised me by noticing my current state as she said 'nope your tear is rolling down your cheek right now.' About this time we were called back to the field, saved by break ending. The rest of practice was rocky, for me at least. My brain was consuming me with each comment. Why are you even here, you suck at this anyway. You don't have a position because you are bad. My thoughts are momentarily extinguished when we are told we can leave. I head immediately for my car, basically sprinting because I can already feel the fire in my lungs, it feels like my throat is closing. I start panting while I'm packing my instrument. I finally get back into the car and head for the band room, I have to take someone home today. On the I pray I don't have another outburst in the car like I did on the way to the field. On the way I was told about someone talking about me again. The first year who has grown extremely close to me asked me why I even did marching band again and I let something slip along the lines of "because I love to be emotionally abused."
Once I got home I settled for a little while, pushing away my bad thoughts with the internet. I ate a few bites and a declared it as my dinner before going to shower. Unfortunately the whole 'shower and thinking' cleché perfectly describes exactly what mental breakdown issues. I start profusely sobbing halfway through a song I'm singing. This causes thoughts I never imagined I would have. What would happen if I took a razor apart and cut myself. Would it make me feel better. I finally clambered out of the shower and went to get dressed, taking the clothes off of my counter. As I began getting dressed my eyes landed on some medicine I had upstairs because I have a cold, the cold seeming like a distant memory as my mind drifts to taking all of the pills. Would anyone care? No I shake my head as I walk into my room starting to wonder if this is more of a depressive state than an anxiety. I sit down on my bed and began trying to distract myself once again with funny videos.
Nothing. Nothing I did was working so I began something I enjoyed. I began writing my experiences down from someone else's point of view praying if I did that it would make it seem as if it wasn't my life and just some stupid story I wrote. Halfway through this I began to really analyze my options. My family did in fact love me but I know they are in debt. They are broke. One less kid would definitely boost their comfort levels when it came to living. The extra money would be an extreme bonus. Then the thought crossed my mind. Would they even find me. No one ever comes to my room. I don't even think my parents realize just how bad my mental state is. If I ever have outburst around them my mom just says she doesn't know how I'll make it in college when I can't even control myself over stupid stuff. The thought seems to send me over edge as I walk into my bathroom and grab the pills. I take all of them and lay on my bed waiting for a rest that I would wake up from. As I drifted off the only thought that crosses my mind was at least I'll finally be able to get some sleep.
