Days of Depression


The warm breeze blew through the screen door, causing all the papers on the table to form in a tornado on the kitchen floor. David quickly closed the door as I held down the remaining papers on the table.

“Oh darn,” I sighed as David walked over and joined me in picking up the mess.

When we finished, he smiled at me.

“What?” I asked curiously.

“I have a surprise for you!” he teased while standing up. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box of Captain America popsicles. I jumped up, sprinted over to him, and gave him a big hug.

“Oh my goodness gracious, David! I love you so much!” I yelled while he hugged me back.

“I just wanted you to remember something good from today,” he whispered, voice shaking.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously while pulling away. I could tell something was wrong.

He looked down for a moment, almost as if he was going to cry, and then looked up at me. “Oh nothing, it’s just the last day of summer and all!” he joked. I gave him a confused expression. He noticed this, and quick lifted me over his shoulder and began walking to the door. I laughed as he carried me out to the porch to eat our popsicles.

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“Horse!” David bragged as he passed the ball to my dad.

“Rematch!” my dad teased.

“Whatever you say, I’m still gonna beat ya!” David joked.

I looked up at the basket as Dave took the first shot. I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful pink sky behind it. The sun was setting on the last night of summer. I gazed at it, wondering if there’d ever be a summer as great as that one.

As I was staring at it, my mom called me into the house from her window. I went in, wondering why she wanted me to come inside. I walked into the house looking for her when I heard her yell from upstairs, “I’m in my room!”

“I know! I’m coming!” I yelled back.

When I got to her room, she was folding laundry while watching TV. “What do you want?” I asked her. She moved over a pile of clothes while she gestured for me to come sit next to her. “No, Mom! I’m not doing laundry! It’s the last day of summer!” I complained.

“No, honey, that’s not what I was asking, just sit down,” she said calmly. She then grabbed my hand, and looked down at it. She looked sad and nervous, then suddenly, she began to tear up. I just watched in confusion.

Finally I broke the awkwardness and asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Ky, your father and I both love you. You know that, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I know,” I said quietly, starting to worry about what she’d say next.

“We love you so, so much, Kylie,”

“Mom, I know. I love you guys too,” I replied, still wondering what was wrong.

Then she said it. The words that I didn’t ever expect to come out of my mom’s mouth. It felt like a title wave just knocked me down and was drowning me in my own tears.

I balled my eyes out as my mom held me in her arms. I realized then that that wasn’t only the last day of summer, but the last day as a family. My parents were getting a divorce.

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After the divorce papers were final, and my mom decided to move to the opposite side of town, I decided that the divorce was her fault. She was the one that decided to leave, and she’s the one who broke the news.

I used everything I could as an excuse to be mad at her; the fact that she was never home when I was younger because she was out with all her friends, how she moved so far away so it was hard to come see her, and how she got a boyfriend almost immediately after she moved out.

I wasn’t just sad anymore, I was angry. I wanted my mom to pay for what she did, so I tried using the Bible. I looked up all the times God shows his hatred for divorce, and showed them to my mom.

God was my only friend through it. Whenever I tried to talk to David, he would tell me I needed to stop blaming it on my mom because “It was Dad’s fault.” Clearly, David and I had different opinions on the situation. I refused to listen to all the things David had to say about the divorce being Dad’s fault, because I had already made my mind that it was Mom’s fault.

So because of the lack of people to talk to, I told God all of my problems, and you know what? He never argued with me, like David, making him the perfect person to talk to.

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I wanted to go to church, just not with my mom. I didn’t like her church. I wasn’t used to it because it was way too casual. Along with that, my mom and I fought constantly, not only about the divorce, but pointless things too.

Soon, my relationship with my mom became a train wreck. I never wanted to go to her house, and when I did, I wished that I could go home. I was depressed, and my depression didn’t only come from the divorce anymore, it came from my mom and our never-ending arguments.

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My eyes burned, filled with hot tears, blurring my vision. I slammed my door and locked it, pushing my dresser in front of it for extra security. I looked in the mirror. My face looked like a swollen tomato with paths of mascara draining from my eyes. I came to the realization that every time I looked in that mirror, I had the same puffy red face, and I was always crying.

I took my phone and texted my dad to come get me. I didn’t want to spend one more second in my mom’s house.

As I waited for my dad, I prayed. I prayed that somehow, my life wouldn’t suck so much. I suggested to God that he could give me a close relationship with my mom again. I prayed that her boyfriend would drop the face of the earth and that she would focus on me instead of him. I prayed that I wouldn’t feel so alone, and that God would give me a friend to talk to. I prayed that she would act how she used to, and not tell me how mean and selfish I was. I wished that she would care about me again. I wished that she would care about me as much as she cared about David. I wished that He would care about me as much as He used to, and stop giving me more and more sadness in my life. I prayed that he would answer my prayer.

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It had been a year; a year of going to my mom’s house once every two weeks, crying myself to sleep every single night, and wondering what I did to deserve all this. Clearly, God hadn’t gotten to answering my prayer yet.

In a world of hate and cruelty, I simply surrendered; letting the wind blow me wherever it wanted me to go. I hid my hopelessness behind a mask of plastic bliss, showing no one my true weakness. I closed myself from any truth that would take away the small amount of joy left within me. It was all too big for me, for I was so small and fragile. By then, I had already lost any trust I’d given to the Lord.

The counseling helped a little bit at first. After weeks of going though, it was pointless. The second the counselor said that my mom and I had to learn to talk things out at home, I was done with her. Obviously she didn’t know how insane my mother was. Whatever, I didn’t need to talk to anyone about my feelings anyways. I decided then that I would keep them to myself from now on. That’s what I did; I kept them bottled up inside everyday, and simply cried them out at night.

I lived with my dad. The law said that my parents had shared custody, but my mom understood that I really didn’t want to come to her house more than I had too, so she only made me come once every week. Sometimes it was every other week. David went there more, because he could drive, and he enjoyed Mom’s house more than I did. It was probably because he was her favorite. I could tell that David liked Mom more than Dad because him and my dad argued a lot too. The only semi-joyful days were when my brother was at my mom’s, and I was at my dad’s.

I’d always imagine that last day of summer together. I missed how happy we all were together. I missed cooking food with my mom in the kitchen while David and Dad played basketball outside. I missed watching TV together and David and I bickering over who got the remote. I missed opening presents all together on Christmas. I missed having a family.

Because of the divorce though, I couldn’t even talk to David or my mom without us screaming at each other. I couldn’t talk to my dad either because he never wanted to. I couldn’t even talk to God, because God didn’t listen to one word I said anymore. God hated me. I knew it because no one who loved me would ever put me through that much sadness. The only way someone would ever give me that empty, mournful, pointless life was if they hated me with a passion. The months of depression, screaming, and crying were all caused by God, if there even was a God. I highly doubted that he was even there. I started to question the fact that he even existed, and if he did exist, then I knew that he didn’t love me. He detested me in every possible way. What did I do wrong for him to hate me so much?

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The only place I truly felt happy was school. In fact, most of my friends were unaware of what was happening in my life at home. I didn’t want anyone to know how screwed up my family was compared to theirs, so I kept it a secret.

At the end of every school day, I would get off the bus at my friend’s house. I did my homework and ate there almost everyday. It was a good escape from my life at home. When it was time to leave, I would walk straight home, take a shower, and go to bed. In my mind, the earlier I went to sleep, the faster school would come the next morning.

At school, I tried to act as happy and loud as I could, but friends started to realize how different I was. Whenever they asked me if something was wrong, I denied it. This made me try to act more cheerful at school, so nobody would ask me those questions. Eventually, no one suspected a thing. I convinced all of my friends that I was okay, but I was the exact opposite of okay.

Eventually, my life became simply a routine. Sometimes I would question if there were even a point to my life. I had no hopes and no goals. I was just there with no purpose.

Just when I thought my life had no point, one of my friends decided to tell me that she felt the same way about her own life. She told me that one day she was so depressed, that she cut her wrists. I had never even thought of harming my body because of depression, so I didn’t understand why she thought that was the answer. As soon as she told me, I told her that she had to stop. I knew that if it went too far, she could seriously hurt herself. She told me that she would try to stop, but she’s tried before, and she failed.

That news scared me. I had no idea what to do about the situation. I compared my depression with hers. From that, I realized that I only got more and more sad as time passed. There was never a moment when I started to feel happy again. I hoped that somehow she wouldn’t get more depressed, and if she did, then she do worse self harm. I was so concerned for her.

While I was thinking that through, I realized how desperate I really was to make sure she would be okay. I needed some kind of help with the situation, so I did the only thing I could think of. I prayed.

It had been about two years since I’d last talked to God, and I was hoping that he was still there. I prayed for my friend and her health. All I asked for was that she would be okay, and that she would stop cutting herself. Although I wanted forgiveness for excluding Him from my life for so long, my friend was my main concern.

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It had been a couple months since my friend told me. She was getting better; she told her parents of her depression, she started taking anti-depressants, and she started going to counseling. Eventually, she was a lot better.

After she recovered from all of that, I felt the need to thank God. He answered my prayer, and I was so grateful that my friend was alright. I was actually kind of glad that God was back in my life, and I knew that He was here to stay.

In a way, He helped my friend and me at the same time. By focusing on someone else’s problems, it helped me leave mine behind.

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The divorce affected my life in a lot of negative ways, but it also had many positive affects too. Although it was a lot of sadness and confusion for me, I don’t regret any of it. Because of the divorce, I am a lot stronger today. If none of it would’ve happened, I wouldn’t be nearly as confident and independent as I am now. My relationships with God and my mom are as strong as they’ve ever been, and I couldn’t be happier. The main thing that this experience has taught me is that no matter how confusing life gets, God does everything for a reason; He has plans for all of us.


“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,” (Jeremiah 29:11)