My Chest Hurts- The First Time I Experienced Situational Depression

I'm back, and ready to dive into the hard stuff. As a child, I had a pretty good childhood. Family Nights every Friday night, my mom reading me American Girl books, being home-schooled, and going to swim at the local sim club a few blocks from where we used to live once we settled down. 

We settled down in the middle of the city known as Piura, Peru. Piura was in the middle of the desert, around 14 hours from the Capital, Lima, an hour or two from the mountains and an hour from one of the most gorgeous beaches you could ever imagine: Colan. Once we were established it was a great life. I had rabbits, had a few dogs, took care of my siblings and I didn't know any better. That was my life and for all I knew I was going to be staying there. 

As a child, I would get sad. For example, when my rabbit died, or when my little puppy died from distemper. But I never knew what being depressed was, or what being depressed even meant. Sometimes, I would stumble across something my mother would write about being sad and how life was hard as the only woman for hundreds of miles that was just like her. But that was the only experience I had ever had- that is- until it was time to move. 

September 2012 was a month that I never wanted to come around. It was time to move back to the states. At the time, I was thirteen, going through puberty, confused, scared and extremely overwhelmed. I was leaving the only life that I had every known. I was leaving the guys that I loved and wrestled with, and played soccer with every Saturday and Sunday whenever my parents would let me wear jeans and tennis shoes in the evening. Those guys were my family. The last day I was ever there, we had stayed at a fellow missionary family's house, the Ens. I was showering in my parents' bathroom while my mom was packing up  her makeup. My little thirteen year old self was in the corner of the shower, letting the hot water run down my head as I grabbed my ribs. I felt sick. An elephant was standing on my chest and I couldn't breathe. Thoughts, memories, flashbacks were coming from every corner of my mind, my eyes burned, my ears were ringing and all I could think was:" I don't want to leave." 

"Mom," I said," my chest hurts." 

"It's because you're sad." She replied. Never had I ever thought that sad feelings could feel physical. That one time isn't where it stopped. That night our plane was leaving around 10 pm.  I arrived with my family and all our luggage. The whole youth group was there, along with some pastors and church members. The boy that I liked, Josias, stood there being shy, Cristian, his friend, and my best friend was across the way. I promised them that I would come back, knowing in the back of my mind that it was a hollow promise. I got on the plane, settled in by the window and looked out over the city that was my home. A piece of me was going to always be there.  It was an hour and a half flight from Piura to Lima where we would have a layover, then fly to Miami, have a layover there and then take a flight to the New Orleans Airport where my mom's side of the family would be waiting for us. I cried on every flight. My eyes were bloodshot and blood vessels popped under my eyes. 

I never realized when my battle with Depression began until I started thinking back about it for this blog. Depression is a real thing, you may not be clinically diagnosed with it, but it is something many, MANY people struggle with. Have you ever struggled with depression? Leave me a comment if you're comfortable sharing. I would love to get some feedback.