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CHAPTER ONE

Turmoils' Dance


1
 
    I was so low you couldn' t scrape me off the floor with a double edge razor blade. I was like a walking zombie; I had no memory of yesterday and no concept of tomorrow. To even the most sympathetic ear I could not express and have them understand the agony, pain and frustration that consumed me. Every moment was a sad one. There was no joy in my life. It was truly a fall from grace, an infinite downward spiral of despair. Everything was falling apart. Nevertheless, compared to my sick spirit nothing seemed important.

    I felt like I had took a walk through hell and stopped to have a picnic. I now admit my depression was much more than I could handle. You see, when pain and frustration become overwhelming, it is a defense mechanism to try to find someway for the body to protect itself. Because of my resistance, it began to manifest itself in other forms. Like a can under pressure, depression oozed from every weak point in my body. Nightmares that were accompanied by night sweats, anxiety attacks, sleep-a-thons, anger, frustration and tendencies of all sorts were part of my day-to-day life. The nightmares were probably the worst of them all. There were only three types of dreams that I would have. 1) Being chased or falling 2) Sitting in on funerals 3) Flying

    In most dreams, I was usually being chased by something. Throughout my whole dream I would run and hide from this " thing" . I would suddenly end up in a public place, but the "thing" still insisted on chasing me. I would run up to people and ask them for help, but everyone, both strangers and friends  turned their backs to me and ignored my cries. Eventually, the "thing" would catch up with me and despite my pleas, my life was violently brought to an end. For some reason I never saw what attacked me, I only remember the faces of those who watched.

    The dream that upset me the most was the one in which I sat in at my own funeral.  I remember sitting in one of the pews near the back of the church in a white pants suit with silver jewelry. I could see the casket; it was dull silver with white lining. The church had stained-glass windows and was half full of people, some I did not recognize. I distinctly remember responding to what someone said about me, but they ignored me, they could not see me. But what struck me the most about this dream is seeing my own body in the casket. . 'Til this day, I believe that this dream scared the shit out of me so bad, that I was willing to do anything to get better).

    Probably the only dreams that I did enjoy were the ones in which I flew over wildflower-covered mountains or threw dark tunnels that eventually led to green pastures or colorful gardens. These dreams always gave me hope (and a better night' s rest.) :->

    My depression made me a very angry person. In fact, I was so angry, you could have paid me to throw a rock threw a church window. The main question I had was why me? My life had already been hard enough. I was now doing well in school and had a lot of potential and a promising future. I took my depression as a threat to my life. The same threat a thug with a gun to my head would produce. The only one I could blame was God. I still loved & believed in him but I could not understand what I had done to deserve such pain.

I will never forget the night I stopped praying...

To Be Continued