Freewrite:
Everyone has that moment in their life when they realize, and acknowledge that something has to change. You need a new perspective. A fresh start. A ridding of the demons that have been plaguing you. But how do you do this? Obviously you can’t just push the restart button; you can’t just drop everything. No. Even at the tender age of eleven, I still had responsibilities and obligations that could not be neglected. I had been at war with chronic pain, and anxiety since third grade, and every day was a gruelling, painful battle. As a result of this, attending school every day, and participating in soccer became very arduous. I needed a break. There was nothing I wanted more than to be given a new life; a life without the constant pain and worry. I didn't see any way to cope with my trouble, until one rainy fall evening.
I slammed my bedroom door shut with absolute malice; fully content with the idea of never opening it again. The rain was pounding heavily on the roof, like thousands of angry trolls charging out of their caves. My head was filled with angry thoughts. The bad kind of angry thoughts. The I HATE EVERYTHING kind. I hated myself. I hated my body for hurting, and I hated my mind for making more of the pain than necessary. The anger was controllable, but my malcontent with the situation was fiercely besieging my mind. I needed a distraction from all this… something to do. I trudged over to my bed, flumping heavily onto the soft sheets; however, the usual comfort and satisfaction that the sheets gave me was dampened by my anger and frustration. I sat up and peered thoughtfully around my room, hoping to pull some life changing inspiration from the knobbly white walls. Obviously, nothing came jumping out at me. No, unfortunately, even with a plethora of John Cena and AC/DC posters, I could not conjure up a beautiful plan on how to turn my life around. I felt the force of thousands of smiling faces staring at me from the collages that lined the wall along my bed. The gleeful expressions in the photos made me even more cross about my circumstance. I looked at each individual image, recounting the moments, and wondering when I’ll feel like that again. Can’t I just be happy by getting a new toy soldier, finding a cool rock at the beach, or getting to ride a fire truck? Why is everything so much more complicated now?
“Remember those good old days?” I thought to myself, “where have those gone? remember when you could drive hours to the beach or to the zoo without a hint of pain? Remember when you could go days, or weeks without feeling an ounce of stress?” Those truly were the best of days. I felt like part of my childhood had been stripped away from me. I thought stress was something that comes when you’re in high school, or when you have a job! I thought chronic pain, and diseases only happened to other people, why me?
Out the window, the rain poured harder than ever, I watched as the deck below my window was pummeled by a constant barrage of furious drops. The trees beyond were dancing in the wind, like concert goers, entranced by a sweet, flowing ballad. However, the cadence the rain formed was heavy-laden, and constant. It flooded my mind, causing static and disorder to my thoughts. I reached under my bed to fetch my laptop. It was a small, old clunky thing with a faded logo, and stickers that were threatening to fall off. I blew off the dust that had settled on it, and clicked it open. The loud hum of the computer fan offered another mind-numbing instrument to the collective of the trees and the rain. I opened up my itunes app, which took at least five minutes, and plugged in my big ol’ headphones. Even before the Dave Matthews Band number started to play, the headphones quieted the obnoxious band which had been playing outside.
Then the “bang!...bang!...bang!…bang!” of the snare drum began. It felt like a call to action, like something great was just over the horizon. I immediately opened up a web browser, and began searching: dealing with stress. My brow furrowed as I glared at the results:
“Take care of yourself, eat healthy, well-balanced meals” but bad food makes me HAPPY. Besides, that’s not instant enough…
“Talk to others, share your problems” I wouldn’t dare do that, nobody outside of my family knows about my problems and I’d like for it to stay that way…
“Avoid drugs and alcohol” Okay…. I am eleven, I don’t think that is my problem. Where’s the “skip school” advice, or the “take a magical pill” option?
Despite my best efforts at research, I couldn’t find any suggestion that grabbed my attention. Then I realized something; all of these articles were written by someone. They spent hours typing away at their computers, inserting their knowledge, research, and opinions into something they cared about. They were writing for others, but what if I wrote for myself? I had never written anything that wasn’t to be edited or graded by a teacher, so the idea, although familiar and regular for others was foreign and bizarre to me. What do people write about when they’re writing in diaries or journals? Do I write about my day, about what’s bothering me? Or do I write about happy things, rainbows and puppies? Completely unsure of what I was doing, I opened up a new Word document, and began typing.
At first, the words dragged along, sentences were erased, and I felt ashamed of the reaches of my vocabulary. Slowly, however, the words began to flow. My fingers moved quicker and more confidently. No thought entering my mind was a bad one, and every thought went onto the page. A very tiny ember of hope within me sparked on one page, then the next, and the next. I wrote poems, short fiction stories, diary entries, and memories until the ember had turned into a colossal bonfire. Sparks flew, and the smoke that rose from the fire smelled of hope and true enlightenment. Only a few hours later, I had written four pages of anything and everything. I finally sat back, and looked at the work I had done. I felt different. I felt good; like a giant cloud that had been raining on me had lifted. I looked out my window, and streaks of sunlight were peaking through the clouds, illuminating my deck and yard like a spotlight on center-stage. Not only was the room brighter, but there was an ease, and luminance in my mind. I was no longer angry at the world. I was no longer angry at myself. The collages of faces by my side had been given a new appearance. The smiles looked familiar. They looked achievable again. The rain had seized, just a slight misting was gracing my window, leaving tiny little droplets, that looked like windows into another world. A happier world; but I knew that the drops were showing the very same world as my own. It was my happy world.
The reality is, there is no quick fix to being stressed or depressed. However, there are treatments that can ease your mind, and give you peace, if only for a little while. I was very fortunate to discover that that treatment for me was writing. It gave me a glimpse into another world, while helping me figure out mine. Often times, writing out your problems and studying them can be the key to coping or solving the issue. You can’t complete a puzzle by tackling one piece at a time, you need to lay them all out on the table, then you can see the full picture. Since that rainy fall day, I have never looked at writing the same. To me it is no longer a constraint created by teachers, it is a release created by me. Although I still suffer from chronic pain, and anxiety, writing has opened countless doors to great relief and many solved puzzles.
