A semi-personal story of working through mental health issues and finding love.
|1) The blaring of the alarm wakes me from a dream I'm already forgetting. I open my eyes slowly, dreading the coming day. I hear my mother in the kitchen making breakfast and feel an empty rumbling in my stomach. As I lay there, I think of how the day will go. I picture school, trying to think of anything that could possibly be memorable compared to the blur of the last few months. I hear my mom knock on the door and tell me that breakfast is ready. I get up and grab the first clothes I see in my closet and put them on quickly. I go to brush my hair and feel the familiar pressure starting in the base of my skull, so I hurridly drag the brush through my hair a couple of times and call it quits. I walk into the kitchen and see my mother standing there, signing to my dad. They look tense, and mom's fingers are flying through the air much quicker than normal which is a surefire sign that she's worried. Dad's eyes meet mine and he sits up straight, smiling a little too much to be natural. "Good morning sweet girl. How'd you sleep?" I half-smile and tell him I slept fine. Mom hands me my plate and I meet her eyes. Bright green, like mine, but worn with years of age and stress. "Good morning, mom" "Good morning, love. Ready for school?" I look away from her and nod, trying to eat my eggs and fighting back the bad taste in my mouth that rose at the thought of school. I see her smile at me and go back to signing to my dad. Both of my parents are deaf, but by some small stroke of luck, I was born hearing. In the deaf community, I am a "CoDA", or a child of deaf adults. It's enlightening, but I feel guilty more often than not. What kind of God could take such a beautiful sense away from such wonderful people? My parents have struggled their whole lives, and people weren't as understanding when they were growing up. They were often teased, ridiculed and left alone because people fear what they don't understand. I snap out of my trance when the vice around my head starts to tighten. I glance at the clock and shovel the rest of my food in my mouth, realizing I spent way too much time drifting off yet again. Saying goodbye to my parents, I grab my things and head to school.
2) School starts just like any other day. Too many people surging through the halls on the way to their lockers, yelling and laughing. I keep my head down and pray that nobody notices me. I make it to my locker no worse for the wear and then I hear it. The giggles that I've been accustomed to since I moved here my freshman year were coming from my best friends, Alice and Vanessa. They come up to me and all I can see is the same blatantly obvious "we're totally not worried about you, everything is normal" smiles plastered on their faces. "Hey, Ronnie! How are you today? Holy crap you're never going to believe what just happened..." I smile and nod at the appropriate times, trying to not look like I'm not feigning interest. We walk to class, and the next thing I know school is over and it's time for me to head home and get ready for work. A lot of teens don't have jobs, they get to go home and do homework and go to the movies, etc. but my family doesn't believe in that so here I am. I run into the house and rummage through my drawers looking for my uniform and start thinking about school and how my friends and parents have changed lately, and how difficult school is, and the next thing I know I've spiraled and I'm almost late for work.