Build your arsenal now. Gather your good friends, and hold them close. Strengthen your mind to block out the roars.
_____
Dear 15-Year-Old Me,
A monster is coming.
It has not yet found you, but you have unknowingly witnessed its aftermath. You have watched it trap your mother, weeping, in a locked room. It has chased her from your presence more than once—thrown her in the car and driven away with her, only to return her, drained and hollow.
A monster is coming.
Running is no longer an escape. In fact, running will bring the monster nearer, as if every step meant to escape is one bringing you ever closer.
|
It will first whisper in your ear the Spring of your fifteenth year on this Earth. You will shake off the whisper; believe it nothing more than background noise emanating from the crowded school hallways. You will run, because running is what you do best, and the wind will carry the whisper, carry the monster, with it.
But the monster will return.
◊♦◊
In the Winter of your sixteenth year, the whisper will turn to a shout. Running is no longer an escape. In fact, running will bring the monster nearer, as if every step meant to escape is one bringing you ever closer. So you will learn not to run, you will learn to escape—to hide. And, oh, how hiding will not only muffle the shout, it will silence the shout completely. In fact, as Spring arrives, hiding will become your weapon of choice, keeping the monster at bay.
But the monster will remain. And it will summon darkness.
◊♦◊
As the Summer of your sixteenth year fades into the Fall of your seventeenth year, hiding will still suffice. But when three friends leave this Earth far too early, the monster will show its face for the first time and carry the darkness with it.
It will make you fall. And because you are certain no one else can possibly understand, you say nothing of the monster.
|
It will drape the darkness over you. The monster’s shouts—no its roars— will deafen. The monster will find your weakest point and dig there with its words. But while you will see the monster, you will not see the monster. It will remain nameless, and with the darkness now cast, you will sense the monster’s presence at every turn.
You will cringe even before the deafening shouts come; even when they don’t come.
But the monster is not finished.
No, no.
◊♦◊
In Spring of that year (pardon the cliché) you will find you cannot run. You cannot hide. The monster will attack. You will fall. Literally fall. At one of, what should be, the highlights of your high school athletic career. It will make you fall. And because you are certain no one else can possibly understand, you say nothing of the monster. You create elaborate stories that explain away its actions as clumsiness and happenstance. No one is the wiser.
But you are.
The monster is.
And the darkness, impossible as it seems, becomes darker.
And nothing will ever quite feel the same again.
At this point, the monster is no longer in front of you, it is inside you. The monster and the darkness will now have a name. You are the monster, and the monster is you. You are the darkness, and the darkness is you.
I wish I could tell you it will get better. But it will not. At best, it will only become “not as bad.”
◊♦◊
Then, in introductory Psychology classes in your first collegiate year, you will come to a realization. You see the monster embedded within the pages of your textbook. Nearby is the darkness. They have names, and the names are not your own.
You did not invite the monster inside. You did not ask for this. The monster’s arrival is not your fault. The darkness is not your fault.
|
You are not the monster, you will realize. The monster lives inside, but you are not the monster.
You are not the darkness, you will realize. The darkness lives inside, but you are not the darkness.
You are not the monster.
You are not the darkness.
You did not invite the monster inside. You did not ask for this. The monster’s arrival is not your fault. The darkness is not your fault.
Your mother did not ask for this either. Nor should she ever blame herself for what the monster has done to her. She should never believe she led the monster to you. She should never blame herself for the darkness, for she has only shown you light.
Tell her so.
I’m sorry to say, Scott, the monster will live with you the rest of your life, and the darkness will linger.
◊♦◊
Build your arsenal now. Gather your good friends, and hold them close. Strengthen your mind to block out the roars. Hug your mother and father, and tell them you understand. Talk with others who have met the monster, who live within the darkness. Take heart from those who have slain the monster, who are now surrounded by light.
Know that the monster will sometimes win, but make every effort you can to amass more victories than it does. Every victory weakens the monster. Each victory lightens the darkness.
Most of all, try to love you.
Because you are not the monster.
Because you are not the darkness.
You are much, much more.
And you turn out pretty great.
Love,
You
_____
Image credit: joansorolla Creative Commons site/flickr
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Beautifully written. The title made me jump for joy at sending it to my 15 yr old son. Unfortunately, I have no idea what ‘the monster’ is, nor will he. Metaphors are lost on teens and young adults, and apparently this mature adult. If it is indeed depression, name it at some point. Today’s 15 years olds have many monsters and most, including depression, do go away with maturity. A 15 yr old self thinking depression would haunt them throughout their life would probably commit suicide as many do thinking it their only escape. Clear you as the writer are… Read more »
Liz, Thank you for your reply. I do appreciate your encouragement with my writing. A few items in response to your comments. 1. I’m sorry you believe your son will not understand metaphor. It is a broad brush stroke statement to say that metaphor is lost on teens and young adults. Which leads me to my next point. 2. While you state it is “clear I am not around/do not have teens”, my former and current employment and volunteer life has me working with K-12 and collegiate students on an almost daily basis. While I don’t have a teenage child… Read more »
Wow. That was an INCREDIBLEpiece. It is a monster. It’s life in hell; terrorizing. I too was visited around the same age as you. It took me a bit longer to learn that it was not me, but once I did I was able to take certain steps to manage it. It wasn’t until a year ago that is came out of the darkness and really took me prisoner. Had it not been for my children I don’t know that I would have survived that last visit. For the first time in my life I began to understand very clearly… Read more »
Tina, Thank you for sharing your story. I can connect so much with what you are saying about “faking it” and how draining it can be. We feel such responsibility to others, and therefore we do what’s in our power to not allow it to affect those around us. The result though can sap us of all energy. Also, my darkness was the depression, but my monster was panic and anxiety. Again, for those that may not have experienced it (which I am so glad they have not), it is difficult to comprehend the feeling. There is sometimes no logical… Read more »
BEAUTIFULLY written!!! Thank you for sharing this.
It is a well worded perspective that so many can identify with, and still a fascinating story.
Nice job!
Penny,
Thank you for your response! I appreciate your readership.
Take care,
Scott
I was about to say… “sounds like depression.” It has taken a long time to learn how to manage, but with help from the right people, it occupies very little of my time and energy. When it does, the spells are so short that they usually don’t derail my plans. Never thought I would make it this far.
This speaks to me. Thank you for sharing.
Salvice,
I’m so glad to hear you have reached a point where depression does not consume you. It’s such a feeling of victory when you are able to not, as you stated, let it derail your plans, no matter how small. Congratulations for making it this far. For those who have never experienced true depression, it is sometimes difficult for them to perceive it as an accomplishment, but it truly is. Each day is a victory, and I respect you for taking each day in stride.
Best,
Scott
I recognize this monster. I’m not too sure others necessarily will based on this article. Sometimes direct language is best, particularly when you’re trying to connect with younger people; after all, they’ve often been confronted with the ‘wisdom’ of adults, and found much of it to be bullshit, at least in the context of their own experiences. Getting a handle on your own emotional responses is the thing. Teach a kid those fundamentals and you’ll be doing well by him. Anything else is bullshit, and kids know that, even if they haven’t found a context for it yet. For shit’s… Read more »
Rich,
I’m not sure how to interpret your comment–whether to be offended or whether you’re just sharing your perspective.
The monster is anxiety and depression, and I feel confident through my many years of working with young men and women that it is an issue they actually confront, that has been given the stamp of approval by society at large, and that they are intelligent enough to interpret metaphor for what it is.
~Scott