Friday, November 29, 2013

Day One

"To love another person is to see the face of God." -Victor Hugo, Les Miserables. Today, as a sixteen year old girl, I begin my blog with a quote from a classic tragedy of the 1800s. Totally cliche, right? 

My name is Lacey Knecht and I am nothing more than a sixteen year old girl with a hunger to be heard. As a sixteen year old girl, I have been diagnosed with depression, as have most of my friends. Why the hell are we so sad at such a young age? This is the question that, for three years, has plagued my existence. And now, on Friday, November 29th, 2013, I have the answer as to why I am recovering with depression.

When I was twelve years old, I moved in with my father from my grandparent's house in Abilene, TX. My parents had gotten a divorce long before then, mind you, so I lived alone with him. While living with him, he made me feel like the cause of all of his problems. He made me feel ugly, worthless, stupid, and like everything was my fault. If my own father couldn't love me, why should I love me, right?

About two years ago, when I was fourteen, I decided that I have had enough pain and bullshit and I moved in with my mother, three hours away from him. I am still damaged and torn with self hate, self destruction, and anger and bitterness towards my father. I am creating this blog to help me move on from depression. 

Being sad like that... there's nothing like it. It's like a sickness that never goes away. You feel it deep in your belly. You wake up, and there it is. You move and it feels worse. It's almost like the stomach bug, where your only release from the wishy washy feeling of sickness would be throwing up, or taking a deep breath and pushing through. Only you can't throw up; it never goes away. The sadness lingers with you and the only refuge you have is sleep. Once you wake up, BAM! There's the sick feeling. Some days, you can manage a smile. But when you look in the mirror, that sick feeling gathers up inside of your stomach like a crowbar hitting your stomach as hard as possible, and it's only because you merely looked in the mirror. You feel disgusted with yourself, and you don't know how to make it go away.

Thankfully, my self hate is subsiding with the help of my best friend, who is He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. When I look at him, and when I love him, I see the face of God. However, he has been in a ten year battle with his own self hate, suicidal thoughts, and schizophrenia. Thankfully, with the help of me, that's slowly subsiding as well.

My blog is to help me, him, and anyone else who is on their journey to recovery make it easier and almost as if we are not alone. Because, in all truth, we are not. In being alone, we have each other in that, too. We are all together, in recovery, in live, in death, and in truth. And the truth is, we don't have to continue to live in the loneliness, or the darkness, or the sickness. We are stronger, we are better, and we are beautiful. This is real, this is life, and this is how to be okay again. 

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