Change: "The act or instance of making or becoming
Change can be a gradual thing, for instance, aging. Change can be
something that occurs within months, like moving into a new home.
Change can happen the hour it takes for a natural disaster to
occur, the minute it takes for a car to skid across the road and
collide with a pole, the second someone stops breathing. Change
is innevitable but there are two types of people: Those who carry
change as a burden, always worrying about what could happen to
them. And then there's those who embrace change, and move with
it, allowing great things to happen.
However, this isn't a happy story about a girl who took risks and
lived by the expression 'you only live once'. In fact, this is
quite the opposite. If I were to be lumped into one of those
categories, I'd probably be put in the first... The one who is
fearful of change. This is what I tell my therapist, but all I
ever get out of her is a few nods and 'mmm's. She says I have
Dysthymia, a type of chronic depression. I find it absolutely
crazy that doctors have to associate sadness with mental
illnesses. Why should I be labelled for being sad? Everyone's sad
at some point in their life so what makes me any different to the
other six billion people in the world searching for something
worth living for; a job, love, money?
Well, in case you're wondering, I did get what I was searching
for. I just didn't know I was looking for it until later in life.
There was a time before all this though, when I was young and
naive and happy... well, content at least.
"Cassie, are you awake?"
I am now, I think to myself, as I place the pillow over
my face, in a desperate attempt to fall back into a deep sleep. I
know it's useless though, because within seconds my mother is
charging up the stairs, two by two, and yanking the blanket off
me. I reluctantly sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed
and push my feet into my slippers. Believe it or not, this is a
good day. She didn't even resort to jumping on my bed or shaking
me to life. I guess I must have gotten more sleep last night than
I usually do. I shuffle into the bathroom, afraid to look up at
the horrible person staring back at me in the mirror. Sure
enough, there she is, including enormous under-eye bags, a washed
out complexion and all! Thirty minutes later, my face and hair
are in a good enough state to be seen in public, and I'm
physically, not mentally, ready for my first day of grade twelve.
One more year and I'll be out of here. You can do it