(September 19, Saturday)
I again had to wake up at 7am for my 8m service hours. This time I remembered to bring my laptop instead of just staring at my phone for 2 hours. I had to still finish up my first essay and complete an annotated reference list.
For the majority of that time I had spent researching exactly what I should be doing. I logged onto Facebook to take a break and scrolled through the wall. There was one post which caught my eye. A girl who I wasn’t familiar with had added me a while ago (I know, sounds weird, don’t ask why I added her back). I believe she had just started high school and her post had made me stop and think.
She posted about how she had anxiety and depression, but it was indirect. She wrote about it in a way that someone might understand what it is like to be depressed and anxious. She explained the conflict, how contradictory the feelings were. I couldn’t just sit there reading and pass this post by. I knew I had previously shared my sentiments with someone I care for. He knows my goal to be the person that I needed in high school to help me through depression.
So, I type up my little story about why I would even dare to care for something so… expected? Depression might be common or expected, but most don’t understand the seriousness of it. I told her I wished to help and that she has better days ahead of her. I attached an image of one of my thoughts from June about surviving our minds. She read it and commented saying that I made her week and that tears streamed down her face.
In moments like that, writing becomes most important to me. I will stop whatever it is I am doing to address that moment because I know if I was in that moment myself, I wouldn’t be able to ignore it.