Wednesday, January 13, 2010

The Story

Here's how it went about-

I was depressed, at first, just normally depressed. It was a stupid sort of depression. I was just sad, felt lost, and all... Gina had gone to L'abri for a week, and I sort of murdered myself by reading books all night and sleeping during the day. I think the reason I did that was likely due to hormones and actually acting on what they made me feel, and I kept being depressed, my brain kept changing, but during it, my life went on. I had stress. I had things nagging at me. Nobody in my family accepted I could be getting into something, as in, my siblings don't care a jot that I'm depressed and they think I'm making it up, so I didn't have support. I was pretty much alone, struggling through it with God.

My parents knew about it, but in all my life, I never wanted (and still don't want) people to sacrifice things for me. They have no need to- if I get all beat up, I'll recover someday. I don't want it. I don't need it. I really don't care!

So, I got beat up and cut by things, and with my brain changing, stresses added to it, and I got worse and worse, and lost my grip on reality so that I couldn't even pray (or at least, I have no idea if I'm really praying... I'm just speaking words, and they have no meaning, no real desire behind them- I did pray, but I don't think that any desire was in it, any real wanting God to do something)... and I kept adding prayers to my list, and I kept praying for all of these people, and I kept caring for so many people. I also kept telling myself, 'You're not THAT bad, just wait and you'll get out of this,' and other things. And... I got worse and worse... and at some point, after talking to Mummy about it, I decided to not pray for so many people. God could take care of them, and I am still praying every moment of the day, even when I don't know it- God knows what we desire deeply, and He will take care of it even if we aren't conscious we want it all the time.

Now, I think I have reached a peak of this... I am very numb, and I can't really understand English and keep track of full sentences at once, and I live automatically by what I have absorbed of how to live and act over the years of my life, and... I am empty. I have nothing in me. My character is hidden deep inside of me.

The reason I got bad was because of brain switchings, and then the add-on of stress, I think... no relief from it or anything. I feel bitter that I ever let myself have stress, but I'm way, way too submitting and so on to just say, 'I won't do it. Forget about it. Deal with it yourself,' or whatever. There are so, so, so many things which bother me... and all my life I just said I will live through it, and when I'm eighteen and marry, I can go and do what I really, truly mean to do.

Well, the truth is, I can't just wait to do things until I'm married. I have to apply the hoards of knowledge I have and learn to live life. I don't know how to. I don't want anything. I don't care for myself. I don't need anything... I could live through anything- it would be life.

But, though all of this seems terribly hopeless and so on, God has let this happen for a reason. I always had a shadow over me... I felt lonely, alone and left behind. Older children and even children my age seemed to push me away, and every single thing done against me in my life, even as teasing, has impressed upon me and now I see it... it's ridiculous... how it all worked that way. I really, truly thought I'd live through it, that it was temporary. I think sometimes I wondered if it would have real effect on me, and it has. It's why I got depressed as I did in times... I felt lost, and every kind of depression was the same sort as the last- I felt lost. I knew God was there, I knew everything was lovely, but I was separated and could not possibly inject myself into humanity, so to speak. I didn't feel a part of it. I suppose nobody really does, but I think the way I felt it was a very much more profound way than that... I really can't DO things with people. I tried, but it never, ever stayed for long... and it was always overhung by a shadow. I just couldn't do it. I can't relate with people how I wish I could... I do it as a wanderer.

I think it's exactly why I can only fathom writing about people who are lonely and wandering, secluded and alone. I can't go past that beginning full of thoughts of loneliness, and I can't ... I can't fathom anything... to do with not having that. I dream of it, and I think it will sometime be mine to be happy and joyous and full of life, but for now, I am dead and dull and sad. I imagine that all the time, I could be crying because of this. I know life is beautiful, but one bit of my life is so absolutely horrid that I want to scream about it, but I'm so used to not crying or screaming that I can't.

I think that if I were to be with friends, both of these things could eventually be done... I need to let it out. It's been bottled up all my life.

And now, I shall leave you! Sorry for so much... it's a lot to read. ^.^ Many of you know it all, I think, but I need to say it again and clear my mind about it... it definitely cannot all be written of in one moment, though.

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