They Call It Depression {edited}

Chapter Nine

My parents are taking me to a St. Louis Cardinals game. The tickets are great: we're sitting a few rows behind the third-base line. I can't wait; I love baseball! And since I live in Maine now, I haven't been to a Cardinals game in years!

We drive into the city, past the famous Arch, and arrive at Busch Stadium. My dad parks in the parking garage. To be honest, I've always been a little scared of those things. After watching so many horror movies, I'm always paranoid I'll get kidnapped. But my parents are there to protect me, and I know that I'll be perfectly fine.

We walk down eight flights of stairs before stepping onto the pavement outside the parking garage. About a hundred red shirts pass by and I'm getting more excited by the second.

My parents and I walk towards the stadium, then give the lady our tickets, and head to our seats. "Yes!" I cry when I see that my favorite player, Matt Carpenter, is at third base today. I can see him perfectly from where we're seated in the sixth row.

The game starts promptly at noon, and we sit and watch in excited anticipation. Adam Wainwright is pitching today, and he does a great job keeping the New York Mets from scoring. It's a no-hitter in the first inning!

Now it's our turn to bat. Yadier Molina is up first. He's the catcher for the Cardinals. He hasn't been doing his best this season, but surprisingly, he gets a hit. Unfortunately, the Mets player in right field catches the ball.

Matt Carpenter is up next. I cheer at the top of my lungs and yell, "Go, Matt!" My parents laugh and roll their eyes.

I watch him closely, my knees bouncing up and down with excitement. The first pitch is a ball. Then a strike. Matt focuses harder on the baseball as it flies through the air towards him. His bat makes perfect contact, and you can hear the THWACK as it hits the ball and knocks it into left field.

Matt starts running to first base, and I watch the outfielders scramble to catch the ball that's landed in the grass. He's there before they have time to throw it to first base.

"Attaboy, Matt!" I scream, and my parents clap with me.

The rest of the game flies by, and the Cardinals win 6-3. "You know what that means," my mom says on the way back to the parking garage. "50-cent drinks at Mobil on the Run tomorrow!"

"Woot woot!" I exclaim.

You see, in St. Louis, there's a gas station called Mobil, and the convenience store is called On the Run. When the Cardinals score six runs or more, Mobil on the Run sells drinks for fifty cents all the next day. It's pretty sweet. I definitely missed it when I was in Maine.

- - -

Nathan comes over for dinner that night. My dad grills hamburgers, and my mom makes bacon to go on them. It's one of my favorite meals!

At dinner, we fill Nathan in on everything that happened at the game today. He listens with a smile on his face, enjoying our enthusiasm. As I talk to him, and watch him listen patiently while my parents talk, I can already tell he'll be a great addition to the family.

Just like your baby would've been, a voice inside my head adds. What? Where did that come from? I was having such a great time, but now I'm thinking about the abortion. Again. Suddenly, I don't feel like finishing my burger.

- - -

I became addicted to alcohol. I would buy it from anyone who'd sell it to me, and I continued to go to all sorts of parties so I could drink there. The buzz was so intoxicating and wonderful that I couldn't give it up. I did everything I could to get beers, and I drank them in about three minutes.

The hangovers were terrible, but I suffered through them. I'd walk to McDonald's and get some greasy food and a cup of water to help with the buzz. Then I'd go to Cassie's-we'd become closer since I started attending more parties-and brush my teeth twice before heading home.

I smuggled a bottle of vodka into my bedroom and hid it in my closet. Whenever I was feeling down on my luck, I'd gulp down at least a cup full.

It seemed to help with my depression. But not quite. I still had times where even drinking couldn't make me feel better. That's when I'd bring out the razor.

I made the cuts where I knew my parents would never see them. I wasn't fat, but my depression made me feel overweight, so I made little cuts all over my stomach. I put them on my wrists and wore long-sleeved shirts to cover them. It always hurt, but my mood made it feel like a good kind of pain. My heart was telling me to stop, but my stupid brain overruled and said that the pain was relieving, that I needed to hurt myself in order to feel better.

I wish I'd listened to my heart.

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A/N: Sorry if you don't like baseball, or had no idea what any of the references meant.😂😁 I live near St. Louis, so I love baseball, and Matt Carpenter is my favorite player. Comment here if you know who he is, or if you like the Cardinals! The thing with Mobil On the Run is actually true. It's pretty awesome.

And before I go, I want you to know that if you've had experience with cutting, you are not alone. I myself have never gone through depression, drank, or cut myself, but I hope that I do a good job of portraying what that looks like in this book.

I know there are many of you out there who do live this life, and I'm not going to tell you that you're a bad person. But there is so much better. You deserve the best, no matter who you are or what your past (or present) looks like.

I love you guys, and I'm here for you if you need to talk about your depression or any other struggles you may be facing. Please remember how much Jesus loves you-enough to die on a cross-and know that you can trust Him with your mistakes and struggles. Talk to Him if no one else understands. He's always there for you, especially when your friends aren't. He loves you, and so do I.

Okay, that's all for now. Thanks for reading! I hope this helped, and that you enjoyed the chapter.