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My name is Jamie Taylor. I´m a senior in high school and I will be graduating in a few months. I have been writing since I was 10 and won a poetry contest when I was 14. In sophomore year, I took a journalism class. In junior year, I took AP English composition. This year, I am taking AP English Literature as well as Creative Writing.
Making up for Lost Time
Mar 04, 2019 5 years agoSome days I´m on top of the world, I can do anything and nothing can bring me down. I´m beautiful and talented and intelligent. I´m so happy that I can´t sleep, I have so much energy that i have to run around the house to get rid of it. Some days I can laugh for hours about nothing in particular, or because my mom bought me a new pair of pants and I can't deal with how happy I am. Some days I spend all my money, because how could someone as great as I am be broke? Some days all I want to do is sleep. Things I like to do no longer appeal to me. I don't have the energy to hang out with my friends or draw or read or write. Everything is monotonous and even the slightest criticism sends me spiraling, thinking I'm worthless and bad at everything. I think I'm ugly, and all the talent I thought I had goes out the window because I can't do anything right. Nothing can make me laugh or smile or feel anything but worthless and lazy. I seriously considered suicide. I knew how I was going to do it, I had a plan. I knew I wasn't doing well, and I wanted to be better, so I went to therapy. My therapist told me I had depression, but that didn't explain my wild mood swings. For a while, I thought it was normal, because teenagers are known to have mood swings. But mine were far worse than other teenagers. The antidepressants helped my depression a little bit, but were mostly ineffective. I told my therapist about my wild mood swings, and she recommended I track my mood. So I did. She told me I had bipolar disorder. All the pieces slotted together and formed a puzzle that made sense. I wasn't lazy, or weird, or emotional. My brain was different from everyone elses. The therapist told a psychiatrist, and she gave me medicine. I still have more intense emotions than others, and some days I still struggle to get out of bed, and do anything but sleep. But now, those days are fewer, and less intense. Everything I used to like seems interesting again, and I have the energy to do it now. I knew I had depression for years, but the other extreme changes in my mood didn't´ make sense. When the doctor told me why, I understood. I understood why I could feel the lowest of he lows for weeks, and then suddenly I was giddy because I saw a dog, or ate a pastry, or got a hug. The medicine I was prescribed doesn't change who I am. I still feel happiness and sadness and anger. But now, even on the days when I'm feeling low, I get out of bed. When I'm happy, I'm calm enough to enjoy it, and rational enough not to spend all my money. I can enjoy my hobbies again and smile when I see a dog without laughing so hard that I hurt myself. After all these years, I'm finally myself again. I'm working to make up for all the time I missed out on doing things I love, like writing. I feel inspired to do as much as I can to make up for the lost time and prove to myself that I am capable of doing things worth doing. I know I'm not perfect, and I never will be. I'm not the same as other people. But I'm myself, and that's what matters.
