Is It Breathing, It All Happened One Morning?

Samantha Stevens lived by herself in a big house. Her husband Tyler Stevens passed away in a tragic car accident 2 years earlier. Samantha doesn’t have any family left except her dog and her husband's brother John who lives in an asylum. When John was little he had problems, he was not like the other kids his age. He went very crazy by the age of 14. So John’s parents couldn’t take it because they were getting complaints from everyone. Samantha didn't ever talk to John neither did Tyler. But John loved his big brother Tyler. Samantha was depressed from her husband’s passing and starting feeling better a couple months ago.

I sat there in my room with tears flowing down my blush pink cheeks. Wondering what was wrong with me, as a salty tear ran along my dried out chapped lips. I thought to myself,” Why am I so miserable? What did I do to deserve this? How am I going to escape this life?” I started to ponder that this was the end of my life, this is how I was going to be, sorrowful. At the lowest point of my life, mother came barging through the door with the look of cavernous concern on her face. She knew that it was time for something to be done, whether I agreed or not.

I need you home now.” This was my wakeup call and I knew that I had to hurry home. “I’m coming home now mom. I’ll be there in a bit. Everything is going to be alright.” Keeping my composure I went to the NHS president and told her that I had a family emergency and that I had to go. For some reason she was giving me a hard time about it but after seeing my eyes she asked if everything was alright. I just said I had to go and she finally let me go without asking anything further of me. I darted out of the cafeteria doors taking a right on the first floor hall way on the east side of the building and then a left I went through one of the schools entrances on 59th court. I live on the same street as the school just three miles away. At that moment I felt stranded. I did not have my “proper gear” to run it as fast as I could and at the time for some reason I did not bring my car to school. However, I knew I had to get home fast so I took off. As the cars passed me I lost myself in my head. I was not crying or even sad. I was unsure of how I should react. Then the thoughts of what if I never get to talk to him again ran through my head. That is when the tears started to pour down my cheeks as I continued to pant.

As I awoke on the average school day ready to take on the world. I do my usual morning routine, but I feel as if something isn't right. As I head downstairs I see my mother sitting on the couch crying and my father comforting her. I ask my father “What’s wrong with mom?” and I get confronted

Even six year old me could see the great suffering my father experienced not only mentally but physically. I recall once walking in the bathroom and seeing my father vomit, it was the first time I seen him so vulnerable. I could see the pain in his eyes. It was our third month in the united states and my father could not find a job, it was killing him. He was considering a job as a dishwasher to support his family, for that I could never repay him. A sprinkle of hope glimmered in our dark world when my dad got a job as a dispatcher at a local Airport, when I look back now I wonder if father ever felt disappointed that his hard nights of studying in college was futile, if he know that he would have to give up his career to support his family. Soon we moved out of my aunt and uncle’s how’s into a small one bedroom apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. By that time my mother has lost a total of thirty pounds. The once vibrant and sociable women was always tired, she often made called relatives back home which resulted in her crying for hours. My father would often cook and clean, it was fascinating to see my dad performing these tasks

That night, having returned to my room after a long hug and a plea for Jane to call me if she needed anything at all, I sat in front of my laptop, opening tab after tab of articles on how to care for a loved one struggling with depression. I had no idea how to act. Everything in me was screaming to just “fix” her, but that wasn’t possible. So

Imagine living a life where you never don’t feel empty inside. It wasn’t like it just came to me one day, it took years and years for it to come to me. I was 12 years old when my grandfather died from Alzheimer’s disease and ever since that day I had thought it was just grief and the stress from losing someone who meant so much to me. It soon started to hurt me, to go to school. I had always loved school and had always loved learning, but leaving my bed made my insides feel like they were on fire and made me feel like the world would explode, leaving me helpless and alone. Everywhere I went, I felt lost and confused. It seemed like as long as I was in bed, nothing would hurt me and time could stand still. I was at battle with myself, refusing to admit I had anything wrong with my brain because only crazy people had mental health issues and I was definitely not crazy.

The next day in school wasn’t mundane; I didn’t feel like a member of an ant colony, my thoughts were all over the place, discombobulated. In homeroom, tired, fading in and out of morning announcements I noticed a poster of Helen Keller pertaining to suffering. At that moment I realized that my emotional suffering could not parallel to the physical and emotional suffering my father was experiencing. As time progressed I learned to adapt to my new environment, making new friends, along with keeping

Yelling from the top of my lungs at the bottom of the staircase, demanding breakfast and the control to turn on my favorite morning cartoon, everything seemed to be normal. However, the world as I once knew it quickly took a turn for the worse. You see, being the youngest of five, I quickly learned that a quiet house isn’t a normal house. Therefore, as I huffed and puffed up the stairs, snarling because everyone was still nestled in their beds, something quickly caught my eye. My brother, Craig was on the floor rolling back and forth in agonizing pain, he was barely able to make a call for help. Suddenly, my parents were awakened from my screaming and they quickly called 9-1-1. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. It seemed like my family was crumbling before my eyes. Suddenly, as I began to lose hope, I looked out of my bedroom window to see my dad carrying my brother in his arms up the driveway. My heart sunk into my stomach because I always saw my brother as a strong, self-sufficient teenager who never accepted help from anyone. Eager to know what happened, my parents sat my three older siblings and myself on the couch and told us the news: Craig has Cancer. Cancer. That’s all I heard. That one word had the ability to weaken the mold that once held my family together for so many years. My family became frantic and then gradually we began to forget how

As I trudged bleakly through the double doors, slowly sitting down in my seat, and listened as the cushion deflated underneath me, I wondered whether I could just go back to my dorm and sleep. Thoughts ran through my light-headed brain, all I could really think about had to do with tissues, and lots of water to mask my hideous cough. I hated being sick, especially during school. Nevertheless, I still went to every one of my classes, even if I felt horrible. I always told myself during times when I felt like giving up, just one more hour, just one more day. Just like me, thousands of people went through similar situations, but the way they respond to them showed their own personal perspectives.

It was a cold, winter night. The wind blew against window, which the house sound like a tornado was happening outside. It was another lonely night, my parents were never home. They both had very successful jobs, they were always busy so they just me at home. They actually told me they bought a mansion closer to their work so, that meant I had to live alone. I am still grateful though, it could be worse. My original family, had abandoned me when I was a baby. The orphanage said they were delusional and that if it wasn’t for that I would be dead. I got up from my bed, pushing the blanket aside putting my head between my legs with my hands over my head. I removed my hands after a few seconds, I looked at my alarm clock on my midnight desk.

The winter of grade ten was one of the most challenging times of my life. I was socially isolated and had trouble making friends, my grades had yet to recover since my transition to a new secondary school, and the guy I was friends with that I started developing feelings for blocked me on social media and cut me out of his life. I ended up crying for hours the night I realized how much I hated my life, and at some point during that night all my sadness and pain faded away until I felt empty and numb. For the next few months after that time, I can’t recall feeling any emotions. Although I was never formally diagnosed, I knew something was wrong. I made a promise to myself that although I didn’t feel alive, I had to keep up my life for the sake

It was the summer before I started high school that my life unexpectedly changed. It was a blazing hot June afternoon only a few days before summer vacation. I just returned from a weekend in The Dells with my family for memorial day weekend the day before and my extended time in the sun left me with a sunburn that that made nearly any move I made painful. As I sat on the old park bench at recess, I began to feel unwell. I had not had an appetite for the duration of the morning but it wasn’t until now I felt the urge to vomit. I sprinted towards one of the teachers on recess duty to let me in the building. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite make it and lost the banana I forced down for breakfast right in front of the door to the recess yard. My mom came to pick me up and I spent the rest of the evening on the couch with my red Gatorade and vomit bucket.

Growing up i had a happy life, i had a nice home a perfect family and i was healthy . to me my life was perfect , but at the age of 14 everything turned grey , my sunshine has been replaced by dark bulky clouds that made my life darker and dark by the day . I remember it well it was my freshman year of high school , the day of our homecoming parade i was so excited because i was going to walk with FBLA . As I sat there in class counting down the minutes, the hours till it began i remember feeling incredibly light headed . i couldn't even stand then BAM i collapsed to the floor , my teacher standing over me “ maria ! are you okay can you hear me ??!”

It all started about 4 years ago, I was just a kid in 6th grade. I had a lot of friends and never had nothing to do. I lived on Gibson St. in Ozark, I had a few neighborhood friends and we played basketball, tag, or whatever we could find to do. It all seemed like nothing could go wrong, I was a happy child. I didn’t even know what depression was, I just heard the word a few times in my life but didn’t think much of it. Until one day, all of my friends stopped being my friend. I thought it was a joke for awhile, until it was a week and I realized I have no one to talk to at school, barely at home sometimes. Because my parents were so busy with work. At first it wasn’t to bad, I still had one friend at least. But after about 3 weeks things got worse. People used to beat me up and call me names all the time. That’s where i found the meaning of depression and I didn’t like it. I was hoping all of it would just blow over within a month or so, but it didn’t. Each day that went by would go slower and slower. It honestly was terrible. I didn’t want to eat lunch or go outside for lunch. Because if I did, I would just get pushed and shoved or even beat up for “trying to think I am the same as everyone else” is what they used to say to me. All of this continued