My head snaps in the direction of the reception desk where a curly blonde woman in a blue aviator uniform complete with 1950s spectacles sits. She glances in my direction as I stand, others around me in the waiting room mindlessly page through magazines, stare blankly with music filled ears, and toss around rolled up paper balls. A few look as nervous as I had a minute ago, nipping at their nails and bouncing their legs in angst.
I walk up to the desk and begin to rummage through my purse searching for all the necessary information.
“Oh no, you don’t need anything, here you go.” Between her fake polished needled fingers she delicately holds the card. The card I’ve been eager to hold since I was eight, stuffing my shirt with tissue and dabbling in mom’s makeup cabinet unobserved. Now, ten years later, the card is finally mine. It is more bittersweet than I had imagined. I hadn’t accounted for the seventeen years in-between, it wasn’t nearly as cool as my eight year old mind had dreamed up while playing dress up in hand-me-downs. It pains me that the memories of these times has long faded into an unreachable sector of my brain. Just the fact that I made it through high school has be flabbergasted.
I remember the summer of my eighth grade year, thinking that I had learned all I needed to know and experienced everything that life had to offer. I wanted to move on to the greener pastures of the afterlife, perhaps fearing what the next chapter had in store for a christian raised, blonde bimbo, oddball. I yearned for death to tickle my lips and for the pain of growing up to never take a hold of my soul. Perhaps I was reading Speak too many times, psyching myself out about what high school would bring. seriously! Who makes incoming Freshman read a book about a girl getting raped, bullied, and suffering through depression?! No! I want it taken off the reading list! Good book though, props to Laurie Halse Anderson.
Even though my teenage years put me through spin after spin until I was dizzy enough to spin atop my head, the lessons I learned will persist throughout the seventy years I have left to spend as I please.
I’m a crazed, over-analyzing, depression-bearing, bimbo blonde who’s not at any level of power or achievement to be telling even preschoolers how to run things, I’m not going to tell you how to get through high school or give you lame tips on how to make friends, you’ll read a book about that (i.e. How To Win Friends and Influence People — Dale Carnegie) I’m just going to to share what I think is most important in the lives of (unfortunately) more teens than you can imagine.
You’re going to be ok! This is so lame, because I worry everyday about making it to the next stage, but it is so true. Whether you’ve got anxiety, depression, or hell even schizophrenia, you. can. do. it! Some days it is going to feel like your sinking into quicksand and you can’t get out of bed, others your eyes will sting with unwanted tears in awkward places. Being a teenager is hard, no matter what your parents say. They’ve obviously repressed the memories of the place no person wants to return after senior year. Throughout my four years, I have had four bouts of depression. So many nights where I just wanted to sleep forever, or slit some skin just to relieve stress. Some sliver of hope in me screamed to be heard, telling me to stop the negative thoughts, letting my eyes fall closed and waking me to see the beauty of the next morn. Showing me the love that surrounded me in small, but important ways. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t shut yourself away, don’t let the negative thoughts overwhelm you, give them ten minutes then meditate that shit out, because what is life anyway then to have a little fun. We all have a path, let yourself find the pot of gold before you give up, it is out there for everyone.