Depression.

Yesterday started off as a pretty good day. My dad called me in the morning saying that my primary doctors wanted to see me in 2.5 hours. It wouldn't have been a big deal... if my primary doctors weren't in Rochester. I was super excited because that meant we could stop by Roberts and visit some people - specifically, the cross country team. My dad booked it home, picked me up, and we headed off to good 'ol North Chili for... well, we didn't really know. We try not to expect a lot from doctor appointments any more, because every time they don't go well it just makes my life a little bit harder. It was a good thing we didn't expect much, because it was pretty terrible. The doctor wouldn't even listen to me and wouldn't answer any of my questions about Lyme Disease, or the 6 pounds that my little body couldn't really afford to lose. He pretty much said I was healthy and let me go. The only thing that kept me from going crazy was that I was going to get to see my coaches and team in less than an hour. In the meantime, we stopped at some of my professors offices just to say "hi," but nobody was around. I was already getting bummed. We made our way over to the VAC a little bit early for practice, because we had nothing better to do, but seeing that Uncle Andy's car was already in the parking lot made me really excited. I practically ran in. We talked to Uncle Andy for awhile, mainly about the doctors appt. and what the "next step" for us to do was. Then the team started coming down and I got even more excited. After hugging some friends and praying with the team... they were off. To run. To do what I've been wishing I could do without any pain for a long, long time. I started getting a little depressed, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. Eventually, they all made their way back from their runs and that's when things really got bad. I like to say the depression started talking, because when I get depressed, I get thoughts that I normally wouldn't think. It was something along the lines of: "Look.... they all have each other. They don't need me. They don't even seem to notice that I'm here right now. I'd go talk to Aunt Jen or Uncle Andy, but they're doing form drills with some of the team. I wanna do some freakin' form drills. Most of the team doesn't even like them. I love them. Freakin'... I can't wait until the day that I get to take an ice bath. Pneumonia is stupid. Nobody in this place even seems to realize that I'm gone. Aunt Jen, Uncle Andy, and Coach Kurtz are the only one's who seem to even care. If I hear another person complain about hw, I'm going to go nuts. I wish hw was the most stressful thing I had to do. I wish I could actually do my hw, instead of thinking about my stupid body and how it never works right. I wish all I had to worry about was getting to practice on time and spending the rest of my day at classes and in the library... with friends. I'm probably not even going to be able to finish this semester. What if I don't? What if they take my scholarships away and I can't come back? I need to come back. This is where I belong. I'm probably screwing up my whole entire life..."
Yeah. It's ridiculous, it's not what I think when I'm thinking straight, and it's NOT fun. It feels like there's a battle going on inside my mind between the Devil and God. The Devil knows my weaknesses and knows how to tear me apart. God is the only thing keeping me from completely going nuts. He's the One telling me that it's not my fault and that things will get better... in His time. When Coach Kurtz tells me I'm doing everything I can do to try and get healthy... that's what God's saying. When Uncle Andy grabs me by my shoulders and tries to talk some sense into me as I'm bawling my eyes out, that's when I start remembering that I have Jesus on my side. I basically cried the whole way home last night. I was freaking out about everything. Honestly, most of the time I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. Should I try doing hw while I'm home? Should I sleep or should I go for a walk? Am I doing everything wrong? It's not cool. At all. But, in the words of Leeland, "Heaven's fighting for me." I just have to believe it.