Thoughts on turning 21!

Today is my 21st birthday! I was born exactly twenty-one years ago and it's so surreal! Not only because of how far I've come, but because I can't believe that I've been on this Earth for that long! Almost a quarter of a century! And with so much more to go. 

I was born a sickly child. They told my mom I probably wouldn't make it past age 1 or 2. I ended up making it past 2, but with many, many health problems. Not only did I endure polio when I was young, but also suffered a horrible fall which resulted in a severe concussion, stitches in two parts of my forehead, lifelong headaches, and very apparent scars. But that's childhood huh? :)
My childhood memories are mostly in Mexico. I remember playing with my cousins. I remember celebrating el dia de los reyes. I remember my grandmother. My aunts and uncles just barely. I mostly remember my brother Daniel, because he was my partner in crime growing up, up until we were teens. I worshipped the ground he walked on; I wanted to do everything he did. And I did. I was the only girl who had watched  Pokemon, Yu gi oh, and Dragon Ball-Z- because I did it with my brother. He convinced me to watch scary movies, and he taught me how to play on Expert level on Guitar Hero. I was a total tomboy growing up, because of my brother. 

Eventually, I found myself in 6th grade discovering eyeliner and blue eye shadow. Unfortunately no one taught me that blue eye shadow only looks good on hookers and clowns, so I am very sorry to anyone who knew me through that phase :) Thick black eyeliner was MY THING when I was around 12-14. Avril Lavigne was a big role model for me at the time. I really liked her punk princess look. I even dyed the bottom layer of my hair red when I was 13. My dad thought it looked like I had joined a gang. Oh well, Dad, it was my LIFE. 

I eventually came to my senses when I turned 14 and redid my hair in a normal brown color. I know, I know- what did I know. At 14, I thought I was grown up. I got a cake for my 14th birthday, and I remember being really sad that day because my "boyfriend" broke up with me. Stupid, stupid girl. 
At fifteen years old, you are considered a "woman" in the Hispanic culture. I didn't get the big party some girls do- I didn't want it- parties aren't my thing. Instead, my mom brought home a little tres leches cake from the Mexican tienda and my sister bought me a Quinceanera ring. It wasn't a huge deal to me. At the time, I was a freshmen in high school. I had started a "new" era in my life- new school, new friends, new me. I thought I knew it all. I didn't know anything. 
I met my now-best friend Erika when I was 15. Most of this time of my life was centered in or around school. 
By age 15, I had already been on my first date (at age 14 with this boy to see a movie. We held hands). I had my first kiss (age 14- same boy, same movie theater). And I had had my first love and heartbreak. I knew some, but not enough. 

When I turned 16, Erika brought a red velvet cake and princess plates to school and we ate it in the middle of lunch time with our friends Natalie and Alexis. It was really good. I was a Junior at this point. At 16 you can get your driver's license, but I still didn't know how to drive yet. I remember my 16th birthday as the birthday where I "grew up". I remember the day well-  me and my brother came home from school and we didn't have electricity! Yes. Apparently my parents had forgotten to pay the bill (or being an almost-adult now, they probably didn't have enough money to pay it probably). It was late October and cold, so we had to bear it. My pastor and his wife came and brought pizza and a coffee cake for me. We ate in the dark, using the light from my birthday candle. It made me grow up real quick.
At this time, I was dating a boy named Lucas who was a senior in high school. It eventually ended, but we stayed friends for a long time. At 16, I thought I was so smart. I knew NOTHING. 

When I turned 17, my sister had separated from her husband and moved in with us along with her five children. It was torture to a 17 year old. By 17, I had been driving for a few months. Didn't have much experience, but still it took me longer than most people my age. I was a junior in high school now, and my birthday was during a break from school in the fall of the year 2011. I had just broken up with my then-boyfriend Heston a few weeks ago, and of course my sister and her kids were invading my living space, so I wasn't very happy. That birthday was spent with a bunch of friends at this Chinese restaurant in town. We got the largest room and laughed and took pictures all night. Erika curled my hair and did my makeup and it was the first time I remember feeling absolutely beautiful. Nothing really changed when I turned 17, except that I realized I was closer to 18. 

Eighteen is where it's at. It's the birthday every kid looks forward to. Why? I guess you're now legally an adult. Legally, but definitely not mentally I'd say. My 18th birthday was on a Friday of the year 2012. I had already finished high school (I graduated early), and this particular day was bittersweet because on this same day, when I turned 18, my old childhood friend didn't get another year as she was killed in a car accident. RIP Caitlin. I still remember you and I remember your mom and all those Halloween parties from 4th and 5th grades. 
The rest of the day I was getting my passport, and then I spent some time with my best friend Erika. She was in her freshmen year of college by this point, so we ate lunch at J's (I had chicken parmesan) and then we went to Cookeville to a corn maze which was pretty cool. I don't remember half the people we went with, but I remember being extremely sick (I had a sinus infection). Nevertheless, I was another year older so it was worth it. 

About a month after I turned 18, I learned a hard lesson that I wish no one had to learn: heartbreak. I pulled through. Then I graduated high school in May. I finally gathered enough confidence in my driving skills to attempt my driver's license test and passed! I was now a licensed driver and a high school graduate! Now what? 
Now we start real life. 

Just a few months before turning 19, I started my first job at an automotive factory in my hometown. I hated it, but the money was good. Eventually I quit and was offered a job in the field I still currently am in now at 21. It was a learning experience for sure! Everyone was much older and much more educated! Some of these teachers had been teaching longer than I had been alive! Their children were my age or older and had kids of their own! I was in a new world completely. I have learned so much.

My 19th birthday was on a Saturday of the year 2013. Erika, Vincent, Natalie, and I celebrated by going to the zoo. It's what I wanted. It was SO much fun. We took lots of pictures and we ate at this really neat Chinese place and we spent hours browsing Opry Mills and then spent the night at a hotel in Cookeville watching a movie called Dino-croc vs Supergator. It was marvelous. We had breakfast at Steak-n-Shake the next day before driving back to town. 

By 19, I had a year of working experience under my belt. I had my own car, my own bank account, my own income. I had a life. An identity. I was kind of getting a sense of who I was and what mattered, but I was still learning. 

When I turned 20, I was working two jobs and I spent that day working at Walmart. It was on a Sunday so it was naturally crazy. I had a small party with my family the Friday before, and we had chicken and steak fajitas, beans, rice, salad, chips, salsa, and two birthday cakes. It was really neat. Didn't get to do much with friends, because at this point we were kind of all scattered around. But either way, it was fun. 

This brings me reflect on the year following that day. Since then, I am still working two jobs. Still me. Been through a few tough things that really made me grow up but yet I still have so much to go. 

I now have almost three years of working experience under my belt, my own car, my own (sometimes skinny) bank account, two jobs, I pay for my own gas and insurance and phone bill, I pay a bill for my parents, and sometimes I grocery shop! I set my own bedtime. 

And I can now legally buy wine- one of the things I love most in life. 

Life is glorious. Life is amazing. 

I spent my 21st birthday working. And an hour of it writing this. 

I'm thankful everyday for all my friends and family who have seen me to this day. I love you, Mom, for bringing me to the world 21 years ago and for taking care of me up until now. Thank you. You are my life, you are my world, you are the person who means everything and if I could choose you or anything else, I'd always pick you. 

Thank you to my siblings- especially my sister Adriana for going along with my crazy ideas every time. For letting me have my birthday dinners at your house. And for being there for me. I love you more than words can express. You have been there for me through thick and thin and am so proud to call you my sister. 

To my best friend Erika: I love you, man. I will never get tired of saying that to you. Never. You are the very definition of best friend and I can never thank God enough for allowing you to be mine. I could live to be a million years old and still that would never be enough time to spend with you laughing and being immature (even though we're now the same age- at least for a few weeks :)

Bernise- my second mom and work bestie- I love you! Thank you for the endless conversations about life and love and loss and food and co-workers and beyond! Your food is the stuff from gods and I could eat it for the rest of my life- each meal is NEVER a disappointment. I have a feeling you could literally throw anything together and it would still be the most amazing meal I could ever have. You have serious talents, girl. Thank you for making work-life bearable and for listening to me and helping me. You mean the world to me, and I hope we can stay friends for a long, long time. Your flan is to DIE FOR. Your sense of humor is impeccable, and nothing can be wrong when you're around. 

To my Grammy and Gramps- you are my rocks, my best friends, and the people I cherish in this life. I love you guys very much and I hope I can make you proud. 

To everyone else: You're the reason I'm able to get up and go at times when life is tough. 
Jared, you know everything, I'm sure of it. You make me laugh till my stomach hurts and I know I can count on you for a good laugh. Thank you for being Ashley A with us! Bernadette, your wisdom is something I treasure and I know we can always have a laugh together. You make the day go by quicker and thank God for your endless supply of closet stuff :) Youssef- my best friend who lives around the world (that might not be right, but you know I never was good at Geography)- you and I could talk for hours and then still have enough to say the next day. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for the laughs and smiles and all the things you teach me. Especially for going along with my hardware engineer story (sorry but I'm actually NOT a hardware engineer). 

Life is spectacular. Life is grand. And life is mine. 

24 Days

Twenty-four days. 34,560 minutes. 576 hours. Three weeks and three days.

That is the amount of time it took me to feel better after beginning the antidepressant known as Prozac.

Yes, you read that right- an antidepressant. I am depressed. It does not define me, yet it plays a huge role in my life.

Before the twenty four days, I was depressed for close to four months. It started as something simple- I didn’t feel like going to a gathering. I wanted to stay home and just sit by myself and do nothing. From there it became patterns of oversleeping and under sleeping. I felt hopeless. I felt overwhelmed with sadness and guilt. Everything took too much effort. While people around me kept breathing and kept living- I was stuck underwater gasping for air. Life became dull and senseless. It became a chore too much to bear. I couldn’t handle even the smallest of tasks- it was all too difficult. I would sit for hours re-reading the same paragraph.
Depression took a lot away from me. It took away my love of writing and reading- because I couldn’t concentrate.

Before the twenty-four days, I never would have been able to focus enough to write this.

How many people do you know who are depressed? How many people are there that you might not know about? Did you know about me? Did you notice how hard life was to live for me? Or did the “Good, and you?” answer to your “How are you?” suffice? Did you notice how much pain I was in? Did you notice how my eyes didn’t light up anymore?

No, you probably didn’t. And that’s okay. I don’t blame you. In fact, I’m thankful. Because at the worst times when I could barely gather myself together, I do not know how I would have been able to answer your “how are you?” I’m glad no one knew so they didn’t force me to talk about it, or worse, have me talk about it but not know what to say.

Depression is a lonely illness. Yes, illness. It’s not a “cry for attention”. It’s not “all in my head”. It’s not having “a bad day”, although bad days are a staple in the illness. It makes you think things like you’re a burden to everyone around you and that no one cares and no one understands.

Truth is, many people go through it. Many, many people. It might not feel the same or be for the same reasons, but in some strange way they can kind of sympathize. Just google “depression quotes” and you will see.

During the worst of days, I wanted to stop. Stop living? I don’t know. I think it was more stop thinking, stop feeling. Stop the immense pain that seemed to accompany every action and every thought I had. Stop the crushing blows of life’s cruel twists and turns. Stop the endless waterfall of tears at night when no one could hear you. Stop the inability to find pleasure in even your favorite pastimes. Stop the overburdening tasks that everyone else could do, but I just couldn’t seem to.

Depression is a lot of guilt. A lot of anger. At yourself, at everyone, at your illness. WHY can’t I just get out of bed? WHY can’t I just go to work like a normal person? WHY can’t I be happy with what I have?

I am thankful every single day of my life for the people who helped me through those difficult times. To my best friend Erika: I could live to live a million years and never would have enough time to thank you for all that you do for me. Not just for encouraging me to get help, but also for listening to me every time I needed to say something. You are my rock, and I could not have gotten better without you. To my Grammy Robin: I will never get tired of thanking you for all that you are. You, too, encouraged me to get help, and you even offered to go with me. You listened to me on those bad days, and you gave me strength- strength I did not have and thought I never would have. Thank you. Thank you, Gramps, for your spiritual uplifting and for encouraging me to seek help. Thank you for counseling me, even though it was hard. It did help.

Thank you to my doctor, who listened to me and who worked with me and who felt compassion for me. Thank you to my psychiatrist, who said one sentence I will never forget: “We can make you feel better”. Thank you to my therapist, who listens and helps me cope with life. Thank you to my boss for understanding the reason I was missing work and having to leave early for appointments.

Why am I writing this?

Not for you to feel sorry for me. Not for you to feel guilty.

No, I am writing this so you can take the time to reflect one ONE thing: Think about how many people you pass on a daily basis- at the store, at work, walking down the street, your neighbor, at school, at the gas station. All those people you know and those you do not know- EVERY single one of those people is fighting a battle you might not know about. Think about that. Most people aren’t against others, but for themselves. Most people are preoccupied with their own worries, stresses, and fears. And that’s perfectly fine. But I want to stress just how much just talking to someone for a few seconds will affect their lives. Or listening. You don’t have to know exactly what to say. I will honestly tell you that in the darkest depths of my illness, there was absolutely NOTHING you could have told me that would have made me feel better. But if someone had listened, that would have meant more than any words could have. I promise.

Don’t judge before you know someone’s struggles. Don’t assume. That is all I ask.

It took me twenty-four days to feel better. And not all of those days were easy. Some days it seemed like everything was wrong. On day 12, I had a thought: what if I took all my Prozac at once? Would that make me feel better? Did it ever end?

Prozac was not a miracle drug. It did not “fix” me.

Depression is a hurtful illness. Here is an excerpt from my personal journal: It physically hurts. It feels like there is a giant elephant sitting on my chest and I can’t breathe and it’s suffocating me. It is literally so physical. I feel it in every inch of my body- the pain. It’s electrifying and tingling and it’s alive. So alive. More alive than I have felt lately. It’s lurking. It’s a curse that takes ahold and won’t let go. It’s poison ivy- clinging to every last inch of hope and itching away it all with every scratch. It’s a cloud that won’t disperse with sunlight. It’s rain that can’t be dried off or interfered with an umbrella. It’s suffocating like a million pounds on your chest and it’s crushing, and it’s impossible to move under the immense weight. But it’s also light like a feather- millions of feathers that gently caress your heart, leaving behind scars and blood and tears. It’s beautiful- it’s beautiful in a way that you don’t realize you could feel so …. Deeply. Like a knife stabbing you in the chest. Someone wringing that blade deep in your soul. It probably hurts less than this engulfing pain. So deep. Can there be anything else? Is there a light at the end of the tunnel or is the tunnel endless? Is there hope? Ever? Is there ever a feeling of not dying? Is there relief anywhere on this Earth? Can things get better? Can this endless black cloud ever disappear? Can the sadness go away? Can it disappear like fog? Or will it creep up when you don’t expect it to?

In those twenty-four days I experienced more pain than I hope to ever experience in my lifetime. It always gets worse before it gets better. On those bad days, all I ever wanted was to stop. To cease being. To get to go to heaven and have God hold me and assure me that there was no more pain. I fought against every bad thought you can imagine. I fought against physical pain and emotional pain and spiritual pain. I fought against my own thoughts and my own damage on my own body and mind. I was fighting an uphill battle most of the time. My body was fighting to survive, while my mind just wanted die. And it’s the hardest battle I have ever fought.

My name is Brenda. I am twenty years old and I suffer from reoccurring major depression with general anxiety disorder. I am a friend, I am a daughter, and I am a sister. I am that girl who you know to be sarcastic, but yet funny. I love to express myself through words. Words have comforted me, they have enveloped me in their letters that come alive off a page. I hope you can get something out of this. I hope if you are going through the same that you don’t give up. Getting help is hard, but continuing to live that life is harder. I’m thankful I had loving people around me who helped me to get up. And I hope if you haven’t gone through it, then I hope YOU can be that person for someone else.

Twenty-four days is the amount of time it took me to feel like a normal person again. And it’s not over. It won’t be over. Every day is going to be a battle. But as of now I can say:

Twenty-four days down---and a lifetime to go.

Thank you for reading.