Hope Academy

Holly struggles with depression. That is why Dr. Falon recommends Hope Academy, a special school for students suffering from depression. The school offers more than she ever expected.

Chapter 1

 

            The bus stopped and the doors opened. I reluctantly grabbed my backpack and got off before heading down the street to where Dr. Falon’s office is located in Regency Tower.

            It wasn’t that I didn’t like Dr. Falon, because I really did. I just didn’t like going to see her because of the reason why she is in my life.

            I went inside the tall building. The elevator doors opened and a young woman got off. I got on and pushed the button to go to the eighth floor.

            Once the doors opened, I signed in with the receptionist and then took a seat in the waiting room.

            “Holly,” Dr. Falon said after I had been waiting a few minutes.

            I followed her into the office and took my usual place on the couch. Dr. Falon as usual took her spot in the chair across from me.

            “How’s life going, Holly?” Dr. Falon asked.

            “I wish I didn’t have to go to school!” I complained.

            “Are people still treating you like the plague?” Dr. Falon asked, using my words from before.

            “That and whispering behind my back.”

            “I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

            “I’m just tired of being considered weird. At first I thought that once I finished eighth grade and started at a new high school then this would all go away. I thought I would be able to start fresh with a new group of people that don’t know my problems and my past.”

            “But you don’t think that now?”

            “We both know that my depression is going to follow me to high school. It doesn’t matter whether or not people know that I have tried to commit suicide. People are eventually going to find out at my high school that I have mental issues.

            “My mom has been going crazy trying to find a high school that she thinks I will be able to handle. But so far she hasn’t had any luck.

            “Who am I trying to kid though? Even if I do go to a high school where I won’t be overwhelmed, I still won’t be able to handle college. And if I don’t go to college, I’m not going to be successful. And what kind of life is that?”

            “Holly, take a deep breath,” Dr. Falon ordered.

            I took a deep breath and waited for Dr. Falon to speak.

            “Holly, I think I know the solution to your problem.” Dr. Falon handed me a glossy brochure that had a smiling teenage girl on the front.

            “Hope Academy?” I asked as I read the words on the front. “What’s this about?”

            “Hope Academy is a high school for students that have depression.”

            “I’m not going back to a mental hospital!” I jumped up and prepared to run. There was no way that I was going to be locked up again.

            “Hope Academy is not a hospital,” Dr. Falon said calmly.

            I sat back down on the edge of the couch and waited for her to continue.

            “Hope Academy is a special school for people who have serious depression.”

            “How is it any different than a mental hospital?” I asked. I was still not convinced that she wasn’t trying to lock me up.

            “You said yourself that you can’t see yourself being able to handle high school. That’s how Hope Academy is different than a regular high school. This school takes into consideration the needs of the depressed students.”

            I opened the brochure and looked at the pictures. There was a photograph of a classroom and a bunch of happy students. There was another photograph of a couple of girls hanging out in a plain room that looked like a bedroom.

            “Is this a boarding school?” I asked Dr. Falon. I was hoping the picture was not of a mental hospital next door.

            “It is a boarding school. But you can go home on the weekends.”

            “Exactly how does this school help people with depression?”

            “Students at Hope Academy get help from teachers to balance high school and life in a way that won’t stress them out. The students also get counseling to help them deal with everything.”

            “But what about after high school? How can students be successful in life after high school if they have been babied?”

            “Hope Academy does not baby students. It helps guide the students to deal with life’s events. Not every student that graduates from the Academy will be able to go to college, but most of them are able to do something with their lives other than a home.”

            “I’m just having trouble seeing how this school will be helpful.”

            “Why don’t you think it over? And if you need more information, the school is having an informational meeting in a few days so that you can learn more about the school.”

 

Chapter 2

 

            As my mom and I were walking into the auditorium of Hope Academy a few nights later, we were handed a dark green folder.

            “Where do you want to sit?” my mom asked as she looked around the crowded room.

            “I don’t care,” I mumbled.

            “Holly, would you at least try to have an open mind tonight?” my mom asked as she led me to a couple of empty chairs at the end of the row.

            “It’s always been my dream to go to school at a mental hospital,” I complained as I sat down.

            “Actually, Hope Academy is not a psychiatric hospital,” a girl said as she walked down the aisle. She stopped and looked at me. “People only think it is since the students have mental illnesses.”

            “Are you a student here?” my mom asked.

            “I am. I am actually helping with the presentation tonight. I’m learning about behind the scenes stuff in the theater for my exploratory class.”

            “Do you like it here?” my mom asked.

            “I do. I feel like I actually belong. I’m not excluded because of my problems because everyone else has similar problems. Coming to this school is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

            “That’s good to hear.”

            “Well, I need to get going. It was nice talking to you.”

            While the girl went off to work, my mom took the folder and started flipping through the information. I stared at the people around me and tried picturing a school full of depressed students. It was hard for me to believe that every student in this room had a mental illness.

            I decided I needed to write about my feelings. I opened my backpack and pulled out the purple notebook that I use as my diary.

            “Not here,” my mom complained but didn’t do anything else to stop me.

 

March 15, 2012

 

                I can’t believe that my mom made me come to the meeting for the school full of depressed people. I don’t think I will like it here. I mean, how in the world is a person supposed to get better when surrounded by depressed people? I think the best thing for me to do would be to drop out. Maybe I can find a home where I will be happy living for the rest of my life. It just doesn’t seem like people with depression have a lot of options in life.

 

            “Good evening,” a loud voice said, interrupting me from my thoughts, “and welcome to Hope Academy.”

            I looked to the front of the room and saw a man and woman standing on the stage.

            “I am Dr. Weaver, headmaster of the school,” the man said.

            “I’m Dr. Frazier, the head psychiatrist,” the woman said.

            “Tonight we are going to give you a general overview of the school and answer many of the questions you might have.”

            On stage, a screen showed a PowerPoint presentation about the school.

            “Hope Academy is a high school designed for students who would not be able to reach their full potential at a regular school due to depression,” Dr. Frazier said. “Unfortunately, many people have formed myths about the school because of the nature of the students.

            “Hope Academy is not a psychiatric hospital. While the students are locked in during the week, it is for security reasons only. The students are more than welcome to leave campus for the weekend with parents consent.

            “The next myth about Hope Academy is that the students will not be successful later in life because of the treatment they receive while in school. The students here work just as hard as any other student in high school. The teachers here just help the students deal with the learning in a way that is not stressful. When the students graduate from Hope Academy, many of them will feel prepared to go to college or join the workplace.”

            Dr. Weaver stepped forward. “So what kinds of students get accepted to Hope Academy? Unfortunately, space is limited. We keep out class sizes small so that students can get individualized attention. We only take twenty students for each class.”

            At this, many people started crying out. There had to be over one hundred prospective students in the room alone. How could they only take twenty people?

            “I know that sounds harsh,” Dr. Weaver said. “We want to help our students get the attention they need and that won’t happen if class sizes are very large.

            “Students interested in attending Hope Academy must have a recommendation from their psychiatrist as well as a personal essay. We will then review these recommendations and select students that we feel will benefit most from our services. We will then interview the students to make final selections.”

            Well, there goes my chance of attending Hope Academy. I have never heard of a school being so selective. Only twenty people per class! Honestly!

            “While here,” Dr. Frazier continued, “students will take general education classes as well as some electives. We require students to take exploratory classes in areas that they are interested in. If we don’t offer a class in a particular area; we often let students do an independent study.

            “We also require students to meet with a psychiatrist at least once a week to talk about anything going on in the student’s life.”

            “We’re not going to go into that much more detail, since none of you have been accepted to the school,” Dr. Weaver said. “If you get accepted, we will have another informational meeting to go over things to bring, class schedules, etc. So are there any questions before we adjourn?”

            A couple of parents’ hands shot in the air.

            “Do students ever get admitted to the psychiatric hospital?” a woman asked.

            “We have had a few students who have needed some extra help,” Dr. Weaver said. “It doesn’t happen all that often.”

            “Do you have any dropouts?” another parent asked.

            “Last year’s graduating class was eighteen. One of the students who dropped out switched to another school and the other girl had cancer.”

            “If there are no other questions,” Dr. Frazier said, “I’m going to invite one of our students to come forward and speak.”

            The girl who had talked to my mom and me earlier came onstage.

            “Good evening,” she said politely. “I’m Amy and I’m a sophomore here. When I first heard about this school from my psychiatrist, I wasn’t sure I wanted to come. The whole idea of going to school with a bunch of depressed people just didn’t sound like fun. I had already been to a psychiatric hospital and I wasn’t ready to repeat that.

            “My mom convinced me to go forth and get the recommendation though and later to do the interview. She told me that I really had nothing to lose by coming here. I had no friends at my school and the stress of homework wasn’t helping me any.

            “I came here with the idea that it was going to be torture. After about a week though, I realized that for the first time in my life, I was happy. I was surrounded by people that were like me. I got the opportunity to explore things I was interested in. People here cared about me in a way that I had rarely seen before.

            “Hope Academy is the high school that fits my needs!”

            “Thank you, Amy,” Dr. Weaver said as he and Dr. Frazier returned to the stage. “We will be around if you have any questions otherwise get the recommendations filled out as soon as you can.”

            “This doesn’t seem like a bad place,” my mom said as we stood up to leave.

            “I am still not sold.”

            “We can still get the recommendation done.”

            “My chances aren’t very good at getting in.”

            “We’ll never get anywhere if you don’t try.”

Chapter 3

 

            “What did you think of Hope Academy?” Dr. Falon asked the next day.

            “I’m still not sure that I want to go to a school full of depressed people.”

            “How was school today?”

            “The usual torture.”

            “So in other words, people ignored you and whispered behind your back? And let me guess, you stressed out too much about your history test so you weren’t able to study? Also, you were too overwhelmed by your homework that you didn’t get it done?”

            “You know me too well,” I said sarcastically.

            She had accurately described my school life.

            “How do you picture high school to be?” Dr. Falon asked.

            “Probably just the same as middle school now. Except for the people who didn’t come from my middle school won’t know that I have depression or that I have tried killing myself.”

            “Do you think that eventually the people in your classes are going to find out that you have depression?”

            “Probably. But maybe if I do my best to hide my depression, I might be able to find some friends that will at least tolerate my periods of depression.”

            “Do you really believe that is going to help you in the long run?”

            “I know what you are trying to do!” I exploded. “You are trying to get me to go to Hope Academy! But even if I wanted to go, that doesn’t mean that I will get in. They only accept twenty students.”

            “But as of right now, you are not even interested in applying.”

            “I just feel like going to Hope Academy is like giving up. It’s almost like I can’t handle the real world so by going to this special school I will be isolated from real life!”

            “Do you really feel like this is an opportunity to give up? Or is it another opportunity to try again? Maybe this is a chance to try something new.”

            I sighed as I thought about what Dr. Falon was saying. She always knew what was best for me, even if I didn’t like it.

            “Do you really think I will be successful at Hope Academy?”

            “I don’t know what your future holds, Holly. You might always have depression. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that your life should be defined by it. I just think you should take advantage of this opportunity. You have to agree with me that your life can’t get any worse.”

            “I guess you are right. But do you really think I will be accepted into such a prestigious school?”

            “I have had a patient that has been accepted at Hope Academy before.”

            “What are they looking for in students?”

            “Mostly they are looking for students who won’t be successful at regular school because of depression. So grades are a small factor. They also look at evaluations from psychiatrists.”

            “What will happen if they don’t want me at Hope Academy?”

            “Then we will find you a different school and then you will continue seeing me.”

            “You know, Dr. Falon, if I do get accepted to this school, I am going to miss you.”

            “I will have to visit on occasion for some evaluations. I will really miss having you as one of my regular patients though.

            “Now, Holly, I’m going to get these forms filled out and I want you to get this application essay done by the next time I see you. Do you think you can handle this?”

            I thought about the pile of homework I had been given today and all that I hadn’t gotten done last night.

            “I will do my best,” I said.

 

Chapter 4

 

            “Do you have a lot of homework to do tonight, Holly?” my mom asked at dinner that night.

            I had no appetite and I was just pushing the mashed potatoes around on my plate.

            “Yeah.”

            “Holly, you need to eat,” my mom said.

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “I sure hope you get accepted to that school,” my moms aid as she stood up and began clearing the table. “Maybe then you will start eating right.”

            “Don’t get your hopes up,” I mumbled.

            “Did you talk about Hope Academy with Dr. Falon?”

            “A little. She wants me to write the application essay for next time.”

            “I guess you can do that tonight.”

            “But what about my homework?”

            “Are you actually in the mood to do your homework?”

            “No. But I’m not in the mood to do the essay either.”

            “Do you think you have a choice?” my mom asked with a laugh.

            “No,” I grumbled.

            When I first got depressed in the sixth grade, I quit doing my homework. My mom didn’t find out until she saw my report card with a bunch of failing grades. Ever since then, I have to sit at the kitchen table after dinner and I am not allowed to leave until nine thirty. I don’t necessarily have to do my homework, but I’m not allowed to leave the table. There are sometimes where I sit at the table and do nothing. Sometimes I even fall asleep.

            My mom feels though that if I stay at the table long enough, I might actually get something accomplished.

            My mom finished cleaning up the kitchen and went into the living room and turned on the TV and I was left to stare at my textbooks.

            I pulled the green Hope Academy folder towards me and started flipping through the information, looking for the paper that talked about the application essay.

           

Give a brief overview of your life, focusing mostly on the effects of depression and how Hope Academy will be able to change your life.

 

            I opened my history notebook to a blank page and grabbed a pen. I really liked writing but I never had time to do it. Except for an occasional journal entry, my writing was limited to homework.

 

                I was born to a beautiful, sixteen year old woman. Though she was young and single, she never regretted bringing me into the world. Growing up with her was not always easy. She struggled to provide as she attempted to finish high school and work while raising me.

                Life seemed to get easier for the two of us as we got older. For awhile, it seemed like our lives could one day be perfect.

                It was too good to be true though. One day, things just changed for me. Suddenly, life had lost meaning. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I wasn’t happy.

                My friendships were starting to fall apart. At first, my friends thought that I was just having some bad days. When those bad days kept dragging on though, they eventually left.

                My grades were also being affected. I was not doing my homework because I had no interest in doing it. I went from a straight A student to a student that would be lucky if she passed sixth grade. My mom took me to the doctor. He said that I was depressed but my mom saw no need to do much about it.

                One day, I decided that I was done. I came home after school and swallowed a whole bunch of pills. My mom came home shortly after that and was able to get me to the hospital before I died.

                My actions resulted in my first trip to the psychiatric hospital.

                Things changed after that. I was sent to a psychiatrist twice a week and put on antidepressants. My mom took off work on the other three days so that I would not be left alone after school.

                The damage had been done though. I lost the rest of my friends. There had been no purpose to life before I attempted suicide and now there really was no purpose.

                That is why I tried killing myself earlier this year. I have no friends. I have no life. I saw no purpose in continuing if all I had to look forward to is a life of depression.

                I tried more pills but was not successful. I earned myself another trip to the psychiatric hospital.

                After three years of depression, two attempts at suicide, and two trips to the psychiatric hospital, I have shown that I cannot handle living a regular life.

                Going to school at Hope Academy will give me the support I need mentally, so that I will be successful at school, and later in life. I hope that through my education, I am able to have experiences that I have never had before because of depression.

 

            “So what have you gotten done tonight?” my mom asked as she entered the kitchen.

            I looked up at the clock and was surprised to see that it was already ten o’clock.

            I handed my mom what I had written and she began reading.

            “This is very good, Holly,” she said when she finished.

            “I don’t know what they are looking for but I guess it is worth a shot.”

            “Didn’t you say that Dr. Falon has had a patient get accepted? Maybe she can offer some pointers.”

            “What if I don’t get in?”

            “We’ll just have to find you a different school then. We will cross that bridge if we come to it.”

           

Chapter 5

 

            At my middle school, it is required that we stay in the cafeteria during the lunch period. I am an exception to the rule though. I started taking my lunch to the library shortly after I started sixth grade and nobody has stopped me. I guess the school officials think it is better that I am not hanging around other people.

            Sometimes, if I am in a really good mood, I might actually get caught up on my homework while I am eating. Today I was feeling very depressed though. I was not hungry and my eyes were everywhere but on the science textbook in front of me. This was going to be a pointless lunch period.

            “How are you doing, Holly?” Mrs. Jenkins, the guidance counselor sat down at the table across from me.

            Honestly, couldn’t she see that I wasn’t eating and really not focusing on my homework?

            Mrs. Jenkins and I see a lot of each other. She is one of those people that you don’t necessarily like, but don’t dislike either.

            “Fine,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.

            I knew Mrs. Jenkins had a purpose otherwise she wouldn’t be sitting across from me. I just wished she would get to the point.

            “I was wondering if you and your mom had discussed your future plans,” Mrs. Jenkins said.

            “What do you mean?”

            “What are you planning on doing next year after you graduate eighth grade?”

            “We’ve been looking into schools.”

            “Well, I got a brochure from a school today that I think you should consider. It is for people like you.”

            I rolled my eyes. People like me? Honestly, if you read the statistics of depression, a lot of people experience depression sometime during their life.

            I wondered if Mrs. Jenkins thought I would be better off in a group home. Maybe that was what the brochure was about.

            I took the brochure from Mrs. Jenkins and saw that it was the same one Dr. Falon gave me from Hope Academy.

            “My psychiatrist already told me about this school,” I said as I handed back the brochure to Mrs. Jenkins.

            “Don’t you think this is a great school? For once in your life, you will be able to get the help you need!”

            She made it sound like I wasn’t already getting help. Like the visits to Dr. Falon were just for socializing.

            “Do you need any help with the admission process?”

            “I think my psychiatrist and I have it under control.”

            “Let me know if there is anything I can do,” Mrs. Jenkins said before getting up and heading towards her office.

            “Did I hear you correctly?” Emily said as she came out from behind a shelf. Emily is this very mean girl that is always in everyone’s business. “They finally have a school for you at the mental ward of the hospital?”

            “Shut up, Emily!”

            “I thought you could sink no lower, Holly.”

            “Is there a problem, girls?” the librarian asked as she came over.

            “No, Mrs. Clearwater,” Emily said sweetly.

            “Whatever,” I said as tears started streaming down my face.

            A problem with depression is that you cry a lot. Mrs. Jenkins has been very nice through the whole thing and lets me hide out in the nurse’s office if I get in one of these spells.

            I ran to the nurse’s office without giving a second look to Mrs. Clearwater or Emily.

            It wasn’t that what Emily said upset me. Emily has said nasty things to me for years. She is a jerk and everyone has learned to just ignore her. It’s that sometimes everything going on in my life becomes too much, and crying is just a way to release everything that is bottled up.

 

Chapter 6

 

            “How was school today?” my mom asked as I walked through the door after school.

            “I hate my life!” I yelled as I made my way to my room. I slammed the door.

            “Holly, do you want to talk?” my mom asked as she stood outside my door.

            I opened my door slowly and flopped down on my bed.

            My mom sat down on my bed and started running her fingers through my hair. She used to do this a lot when I was a kid to calm me down.

            “I hate my life,” I said after awhile.

            “What happened, Holly?”

            “I failed my math test this morning, I didn’t have any of my homework done, and Emily thinks that I am going to be going to a high school at the mental ward. And because of that I spent the rest of the afternoon in the nurse’s office.”

            I started crying again as I thought about my pathetic life.

            “Holly, I’m sorry I can’t do anything to make this all go away.”

            Tears formed in my mother’s eyes as she continued messing with my hair. I know my depression pains my mom because she feels that somehow it is her fault because she can’t help me. All her life she has worked hard to give me everything I have ever needed. She can’t do anything about my depression though.

            “Holly, this is why you need to go to Hope Academy.”

            “What is I don’t get accepted?” I cried.

            “We will deal with that later.”

            “Do you think I will be depressed for the rest of my life?”

            “I don’t know. I can only hope not.”

            “Why me, Mom? Why am I depressed?”

            “Holly, haven’t you asked Dr. Falon these questions before? I know I have.”

            “How about this one?” I asked. “What if I don’t graduate middle school?”

            “Is that really a possibility, Holly?” My mom seemed shocked.

            “I’m getting pretty close to that point.”

            “Holly, you used to be such a good student. You still are smart. Can’t you just hang in there for another two months?”

            “I guess the only thing I can do is try. There are no guarantees though.”

            “I guess I can’t ask for anything more.”

 

                March 22, 2012

                I know that Hope Academy would be good for me. I guess a part of me is really scared to go to a new school, especially a school that is for depressed people. I know that Hope Academy is not a psychiatric hospital, but what if there are a lot of similarities?

                The first time I got admitted to the hospital, I vowed never to return. The second time I got admitted, I made the same vow. I guess I have always thought that someday, I might actually succeed.

                I just know that I will get nowhere in life if I continue to go to a regular school. I guess if I don’t get accepted at Hope Academy, than I will look into a group home. And maybe, just maybe, someday I will get better.

 

Chapter 7

 

            The weeks passed. Everyday I would rush home to check the mail. Still, there was no response from Hope Academy.

            “Can I talk to you?” my mom asked one evening as I was sitting in the kitchen, struggling to focus on my homework.

            “Go ahead. It’s not like you can distract me more from my homework.”

            My mom held out an envelope.

            “What is this?” I asked, confused.

            “Open it,” she whispered.

            I saw that the envelope had already been open, even though my name was on the front. I pulled out the letter and began to read.

 

            Congratulations, Holly, for making it to the second stop of the application process at Hope Academy. After reviewing your paperwork, we would like to get to know you better through an interview. The interview will help us with the final selection process. Your interview time is at four o’clock on April 30^th. We look forward to seeing you.

 

Dr. Weaver and Dr. Frazier

 

            “The interview is tomorrow! Why did they wait so long to send me this?”

            “They sent it quite awhile ago. I chose to not tell you about it because I know that you tend to worry.”

            “What do you think they are looking for in this interview?”

            “Just be yourself, Holly. That is the person they want to meet.”

            “But what if they are expecting someone who is polite and friendly but I am feeling depressed? Or what if I act all happy and cheerful and they don’t think I am depressed enough?”

            “Holly, this is the reason why I didn’t want you to know about the interview.”

            “What do you think they are looking for?”

            “Holly, just be yourself. Whether you are depressed or happy, just be yourself. The people conducting the interview are going to know that you are going to act a little differently because you are nervous.”

            “Is it even fair to ask someone with high anxiety to do an interview? Surely Hope Academy knows about anxiety.”

            “I’m sure they do. Maybe the interview is informal.”

            “Maybe. But how do I know?”

            “Holly, does Dr. Falon still have that emergency hotline number?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why don’t you call it?”

            “This isn’t an emergency though.”

            “I thought the purpose of the hotline was to talk to someone when you needed someone to listen.”

            “Yeah, but the person I talk to won’t probably know about Hope Academy.”

            “Yeah, but maybe they can calm you down. I’m not a psychiatrist.”

            “I guess,” I said as I went to find the hotline number on the fridge.

            I dialed the number on my cell and went into my room.

            “Regency Support Hotline,” a cheerful woman said. “How can I help you?”

            The great thing about the hotline is that you can talk to a psychiatrist anytime day or night. It is done by psychiatrists that work in the same office as Dr. Falon.

            “Have you ever heard of Hope Academy?” I asked, hoping that maybe the person had and could tell me what the interview would be like.

            “I have a few patients going to school there,” the woman said.

            “Well, I have an interview there tomorrow and I’m a little nervous.”

            “The interview is just an opportunity for the school to meet the real you. The papers you sent in have gotten them interested and now they just want to make sure that you are right for the school.”

            “So what can I expect?”

            “Just expect some questions about your depression and why you want to go to Hope Academy.”

            “Ok.”

            “Can I let you in on a little secret?”

            “What’s that?”

            “I have a friend that works at Hope Academy. She tells me that the interview is really just a formality, that students selected for the interview are pretty much already accepted into the school.”

            “That definitely makes me feel better.”
            “I’m glad. Go get a good night sleep and forget all about the interview.”

            “I will do my best,” I said before hanging up.

            “Do you feel better?” my mom asked when I returned to the kitchen.

            “I do.” I began telling her everything I had learned.

 

                April 29, 2012

                It looks like I got an interview at Hope Academy for tomorrow. Mom waited to tell me because she didn’t want me to get nervous. I called the Regency Support Hotline though because I was still freaking out. The psychiatrist thinks that the interview is just a formality and that I already got accepted. I guess I will find out though. A better life might be in my future though!!!

 

Chapter 8

 

            “Holly Remaza,” I told the secretary at Hope Academy the next afternoon.

            “Have a seat,” she said as she pointed to a group of chairs.

            I waited nervously in one of the chairs. I knew the person I talked to yesterday said that she thought I had already been accepted but I had no guarantee. My whole future was up in the air right now.

            The secretary’s phone rang and she answered it.

            “You can go on in, Holly,” she said as she pointed to a door in the office.

            I sprung up and went to the door.

            “Go on in,” the secretary encouraged.

            I pushed open the door and nervously walked inside. Dr. Frazier and Dr. Weaver behind the table.

            “Are you Holly?” Dr. Frazier asked with an encouraging smile.

            “Holly Remaza,” I squeaked as I shook their hands.

            “Dr. Frazier,” Dr. Frazier said. “I am the head psychiatrist.”

            “I’m Dr. Weaver, headmaster of the school.”

            “Nice to meet you both,” I said nervously as I sat down in the chair across from the table.

            “Holly, just relax. This interview is just an opportunity for us to learn more about you.”

            “What do you want to know?” I asked. I still wasn’t calming down.

            “Well, we read your essay about your depression and how it impacts your life. Is there anything else you would like to add?”

            “Um, I have been depressed for three years. I have attempted suicide twice and have been to the psychiatric hospital twice for those attempts.”

            “How long were you in the hospital?” Dr. Weaver asked.

            “The first time I was there for two weeks. The second time I was there for a week.”

            “Are you taking an antidepressant?” Dr. Frazier asked.

            “Zoloft.”

            These didn’t seem that difficult of questions.

            “How often do you see Dr. Falon?”

            “Twice a week.”

            “Do you feel that your visits with her help you?”

            “I think so. I don’t try to imagine my life without her.”

            “What caused you to commit suicide?”

            “Both times I realized that there was no point to life.”

            “Are you a Christian?”

            “I believe in God but I don’t go to church or anything like that.”

            “And what do you enjoy doing in your free time, Holly?”

            “I guess when I am not depressed I enjoy writing.”

            “What kind of writing do you do?”

            “I keep a journal. I have always wanted to write a book though.”

            “At Hope Academy, all the students are required to take an exploratory class in an area that interests them. We offer a variety of classes but sometimes a student has other interest, we allow an independent study. Do you think you would like to do yours in writing or do you have another interest you want to explore?”

            “Writing is fine with me.”

            “If you feel the need to switch, that is possible.”

            “Do you have any questions, Holly?” Dr. Weaver asked.

            “How soon will I know if I have been accepted?”

            “Expect a letter by the end of next week letting you know one way or another. Try not to worry too much about it Holly.”

            “Ok.”

            “It was nice meeting you, Holly.”

            “Thanks for your time,” I said as I stood up and shook their hands one more time.

            I left the office feeling much more relaxed than when I entered. The interview had really been informal and I felt that there was no way that a person could mess up an interview like that.

            “Have a nice day,” I told the secretary as I left the office.

 

Chapter 9

 

            Congratulations, and welcome to the Freshmen Class of 2016 and Hope Academy.

            Enclosed, you will find forms that need to be filled out prior to attendance. Also, be sure to attend the orientation meeting on August 1^st to find out more about your future at Hope Academy.

            Sincerely,

 

            Dr. Weaver and Dr. Frazier

 

            The acceptance letter had come at the end of May, giving me the whole summer to get used to the idea of going to a high school for people with depression.

            Now that I was sitting next to my mom in a classroom waiting for the orientation meeting to start, fear was starting to come over me.

            I opened my backpack and went to pull out my diary.

            “Not now,” my mom complained. She took my backpack and moved it away from me.

            “What else am I supposed to do?”

            “Get to know some of these people. They are your future classmates.”

            I looked around the room.

            I think I already know them,” I told my mom.

            “How can you know them?”

            “Everyone in this room is depressed. What else do I need to know?”

            “Holly, not everyone in this room is going to have the same story.”

            “Considering this is a boarding school, I am sure that we will get to know each other very well over the next four years.”

            I opened my welcome folder and started flipping through the information.

            “Why do we have to take PE?” I complained as I looked over what looked like my class schedule.

            “You know that exercise is good for people who are depressed,” my mom said matter-of-factly. “What else are you taking?”

            “Algebra, English, Biology, Creative Writing, American History, Spanish, and something called PCS.”

            “Good evening,” Dr. Frazier said, interrupting me from my schedule. “Welcome, class of 2016. We have an exciting four years ahead of us and tonight it is my goal to prepare you with all the information you will need to begin freshmen year.

            “To start with, I would just like to run through some information that is important for parents as well as students.

            “If I can draw your attention to the green paper in the welcome packet, you will find a packing list.”

            I pulled out the green paper and read through it.

 

            1. Sheets

            2. Towels

            3. Clothes (Appropriate for a school setting)

            4. Pillow

            5. Toiletries

 

*School supplies will be provided by Hope Academy

*All other items must be approved by Dr. Frazier

*All students and belongings will be searched upon arrival

 

            “The packing list is short because we want our students to be safe,” Dr. Frazier said. “We realize that every student may want some personal belongings though. We are flexible as long as students seek approval. We have approved everything from books to posters to stuffed animals and all sorts of things.”

            “What about cell phones?” a parent asked.

            “We do allow students to bring their cell phones, but they must not use them until class is over.

            “We also require that all students’ belongings be searched whenever they leave campus. Visitors are also subject to search upon entrance at Hope Academy.”

            “Are students allowed to leave campus?” another parent asked.

            “Not during the week unless a parent or guardian gives permission. The same goes with going home on the weekend.”

            “What about visitors?”

            “Visitors are allowed during visiting hours.”

            “What about medication policies?”

            “We have a nurse that distributes medication and takes care of refilling prescriptions.

            “Now, if there are no more questions, I want to go over the class schedule on the purple paper. Students in the freshmen year are all taking the same classes required of students attending other high schools. So freshmen at Hope Academy will have the same schedule. The only exceptions are the exploratory class that varies according to students’ interests and the PCS class, or Personal Counseling Session. Everyone has that at a different time.

            “Finally, I want to draw attention to a very serious policy at Hope Academy. As we are a school that is designed to help students who are depressed, we do have students that have either tried to commit suicide or might consider it at school. While we do the best we can to protect the students, we can’t catch everything. That’s why we encourage our students to come forward if they think that another student might be in danger. For more information, I ask that you read the pink paper.

            “Now, are there any more questions? No, than I will see all of you on August 22^nd. Don’t worry, freshmen. We are here to guide you through high school.”

 

Chapter 10

 

            “Holly Remaza,” the nurse said.

            It was getting close to the first day of the school and there was a few things I needed to do before that day. And one of those things was an appointment with my regular doctor.

            Dr. Watts is a pretty cool guy. Sure, trips to the doctor are never fun, but Dr. Watts makes it a little better. In fact, he was the one that diagnosed my depression. But after a couple of visits and an antidepressant prescription, he decided I could benefit from a psychiatrist’s help. Of course, I tried ending it all before I met Dr. Falon for the first time.

            I followed the nurse back into the exam room and pulled out my diary.

 

August 6, 2012

 

                The time is quickly coming when I will be leaving for Hope Academy. A part of me is excited to start this new adventure. I am ready to move on with my life and leave depression behind. Another part of me is scared to go somewhere unfamiliar though. And with my depression, my fear is often over exaggerated. Why can’t I take life like a normal person?

 

            “How’s my favorite patient?” Dr. Watts asked when he entered the room.

            “I thought I lost the status of favorite patient,” I said.

            “Why would you think that?” he asked as he washed his hands.

            “Well, I am not exactly the same person I was a few years ago.”

            “So you are still depressed then?” he asked as he sat down and turned his chair to face me.

            I was slightly embarrassed to admit that I was. He used to have such faith in me that I would grow up to become an amazing person.

            “Yes,” I said softly.

            “It is nothing to be embarrassed about, Holly. You know that it isn’t your fault that you are depressed. You have no control over it.”

            “I know.” I had gotten several talks about what depression really did to a person shortly after I began seeing Dr. Falon.

            “Are you still seeing a psychiatrist?”

            “Yes,” I said glumly.

            “Still taking your medication?”
            “Unfortunately.”

            “Has your depression worsened since the last time I saw you?”

            “I ended up in the psychiatric hospital again.”

            “Care to tell me more?”

            Like Dr. Falon, Dr. Watts does not judge.

            “I took a bunch of pills again. Unfortunately, my mom found me and was able to call 911.”

            “Do you think you are done with the suicide attempts?” he asked seriously.

            “How should I know?” I asked with surprise.

            “Just stick with seeing your psychiatrist and taking your medicine.”

            “I’m also going to go to school at Hope Academy. That is why I am here today.”

            “That at least makes me feel a little better.”

            As I climbed on the table, I thought about all Dr. Watt’s questions. It almost sounded like he had pretty much given up on me. That was not reassuring to a person who already thought she might possibly be depressed for the rest of her life.

 

Chapter 11

 

            “Welcome to Hope Academy,” the woman at the door said as my mom and I entered the door of the school on move-in day. “Please take your bag over there to be searched.”

            It hadn’t taken me very long to pack. Not since we really need anything at this school.

            The woman who was going to search my bag put it on the table and opened the zipper.

            “Are you requesting special permission for this?” she asked as she pulled out my diary.

            “I guess.”

            “You know, you don’t need to bring school supplies.”

            “It is my diary.”

            “Well, you need to fill out this form.”

            She handed me a form that asked for the item and why I wanted to bring it. I quickly wrote down that I liked writing my thoughts and feelings down.

            “I’m afraid you can’t have this,” the woman said.

            “Why? It is just a diary! It won’t hurt anyone.”

            “I’m talking about this,” she said as she pulled out my razor.

            “I’ll have to get you some shaving lotion,” my mom said.

            “Well, everything else looks good. Do you have your form filled out?”

            I handed her the form. She quickly read over it and then scribbled her signature at the bottom.

            “Go on and get your room assignment over there.”

            My mom and I went over to the next table.

            “What is your name?” another woman asked.

            “Holly Remaza.”

            She looked down her list. “You are in room 104. You can go ahead and get settled in. We want all the freshmen to meet in the auditorium at four.”

            My mom and I went down the hall, which was filled with other girls and their families.

            “Are you my roommate?” a short, dark haired girl asked when my mom and I entered room 104.

            “If you live here, then yes, I am.”

            “I’m Keiko,” she said as she extended her arm.

            “Holly,” I said as I shook her hand. That’s when I noticed the scars all over her wrists. Though none of them looked very recent, I knew that this girl was a cutter.

            Keiko saw me looking at her arms but didn’t hide them in shame.

            I turned to get a look at the room. It looked a lot like my room at the psychiatric hospital. The walls were plain. There were two beds and two dressers. And that was it for the room.

            I went over to the empty bed and began unpacking my stuff. Keiko and her mom were on the bed talking rapidly in some foreign language. I didn’t want to know if they were talking about me.

            “So,” Keiko’s mom said after I got done packing, “are you excited about school?”

            “I guess. This seems like a really nice place.”

            “I was so happy when I heard about this school. It was an answer to my prayers. Keiko will finally be able to get the help she needs.”

            I looked over at Keiko. She didn’t seem embarrassed from her mom talking about her depression.

            Maybe, someday, I would be able to accept the fact that I have depression and no longer be embarrassed.

 

Chapter 12

 

            After a brief meeting about some basic rules at Hope Academy, we had dinner and then our parents left. After dinner, we got a tour of the school and then we had some free time until lights out at eleven.

            Keiko started reading her Bible so I pulled out my diary and began writing.

 

August 22, 2012

 

                Even though they keep telling us not to worry, that they are going to help us with the transition here, I am still nervous. I guess it is the fear of the unknown.

                My roommate seems pretty nice though. Her name is Keiko. Earlier, when her mom was still here, she was speaking a foreign language. Other than that, I know that she is a cutter because I have seen the scars on her wrist.

                Hopefully we will be good friends.

 

            “Are you doing writing for your exploratory class?” Keiko asked, interrupting me from my thoughts.

            “Yeah. What about you?”

            “I am doing an independent study in religious studies.”

            “What exactly will you be doing?” I asked. I wasn’t one for religion but religious studies sounded like work, not fun.

            “I’m going to be doing some Bible reading studies as well as working with a pastor at a local church. I’m really excited.”

            “It will be nice to have a class that is just fun.”  

            “So what kind of writing do you do?”

            “Right now I just write in my diary. Someday I hope to actually write a book of some sort. I just don’t know what about.”

            “Is your life story that interesting? Maybe it would be easier writing something that is familiar to you, like your depression.”

            “I really don’t think people want to read about a depressed person. People don’t even bother to get close to you if they know you have depression.”

            “But surely you will have new experiences here that you can write about.”

            “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. Really, what kind of adventures can you have at a school that is designed for people with depression?

            “God will give you the idea for a book if that is what He has planned for you,” Keiko said cheerfully.

            “I’m not one for religion,” I told her. “I believe in God but that’s about it.”

            “Are you angry at God because you are depressed? Is that why you don’t want to get very close?”

            “Maybe. I have just had depression a long time. If God really cared about me, I wouldn’t be depressed.”

            “Have you ever thought God might be using you through your depression?”

            “Seriously?” I started laughing at the very idea.

            “Why do you think my mom and I are Christians?”

            “So how is God using you through your depression?” I was curious to see how she thought God could do good through something so bad.

            “Well, I moved from Japan when I was ten years old. I knew English before I came here but the transition was still difficult. I started dealing with my problems by cutting. A year later, my mom walked in on me when I was bleeding. She took me to the doctor and I was diagnosed with depression.

            “Everyone thought it would go away once I had time to adjust to the United States. A year later though, I jumped off a bridge.”

            “And you survived?” I asked incredulously.

            “Obviously,” she said with a laugh. “But it was at that time my mom and I both realized has plans for me. That is why we became Christians.”

            “Then why are you here?” I asked. “You don’t seem depressed.”

            “I don’t think my depression is entirely the result of the move here. I have been depressed for about four and a half years. Even though I know it is wrong, I still cut. Maybe someday, I will finally be free.”

            “I have the same wish.”

            “I will pray that God will make you well.”

            “Um, thanks, Keiko.”

            “Well, it has been a long day,” she said as she crawled into bed. “Good night.”

           

Chapter 13

 

            The next morning we were awoken to a sound that seemed to be a school bell; the kind that tells you that you are late to class.

            “Are we late for school?” I asked Keiko.

            “I think that is our alarm clock,” she said as she got out of bed.

            I looked over the schedule we had been given and saw that we were supposed to be up at seven o’clock. And at eight o’clock we needed to be in the cafeteria for breakfast.

            I went to take a shower and get ready for the day.

            After a quick bite of breakfast in the cafeteria with Keiko, we went to find the English classroom.

            We both took seats towards the middle of the room and then I began to look around. There were only about five boys in the room and the rest were girls.

            Several of the girls were wearing long sleeves even though it was summer. I knew that they were hiding cuts. Only Keiko seemed brace enough to show hers.

            There was also a girl in the front of the room in a wheelchair. I wondered if her depression was the result of being in a wheelchair.

            “Good morning,” a young woman at the front of the room said. “Welcome to Freshman English. I am your instructor, Dr. Vernon. I have been teaching here for five years. I was also a student here when I was your age.

            “Now, I am married and I have a little girl named Arianna, who is one.

            “This year, we are going to study a lot of the same things you would if you went to a regular high school. We are going to be writing essays and reading Romeo and Juliet. We are going to tackle these projects in a way that is not so overwhelming.

            “To begin with, I want to know what your strengths and weaknesses are when it comes to writing. I also want to know a little about you. So your first task is to write your life story. You can write about the impact depression has had on your life or you can write about some good times you have had when you weren’t depressed. Just write.”

            Dr. Vernon passed out paper and I eagerly began writing.  If there is one thing I enjoy, it is writing.

            I wrote the impact of depression on my life. It seems like depression is the only thing I really know right now. Everything else is only a distant memory.

 

Chapter 14

 

            At ten o’clock we had a fifteen minute break. All the freshmen had break in the music room. It was the first opportunity we had really had to get to know each other and people were taking full advantage of it.

            As I looked around the room though, it was hard to believe that everyone in the room was severely depressed.

            I found myself in a group with Keiko, the girl in the wheelchair, and another girl who was also a cutter.

            “So what are you taking for your exploratory?” the girl in the wheelchair asked.

            “Writing,” I replied.

            “Me too!” the girl said.         

            “I’m taking choir,” the other girl said.

            “I’m doing an independent study in religious studies,” Keiko said.

            The girl in the wheelchair and I turned to talk to each other since we had something in common.

            “So what do you write?” I asked her.

            “I write poetry,” she replied. “People at my middle school used to think I was really good.”

            “But you don’t think so?” I asked.

            “I sometimes write pretty dark stuff about my depression. No one realized that my poems were real feelings that I was having. I think I write better when I am depressed though.”

            “So do you want to get well?” I asked in amazement. It was hard to believe that someone could actually benefit from their depression, unlike what Keiko thought about depression being part of God’s plan.

            “A part of me does and a part of me doesn’t. I have been depressed almost my entire life. I really don’t know what it is like to not be depressed.”

            I really wanted to ask her more about her depression. But I learned in the psychiatric hospital that there is an unspoken rule about asking people about their illnesses. It is all right for people to bring it up themselves, but don’t you dare ask any questions.

            “How did you get into writing?” I asked.

            “When I got admitted to the psychiatric hospital, they got me thinking about my interests. I guess they encouraged me to get into writing. Boy, was my psychiatrist surprised when I showed her what I had written.” She laughed.

            I really wished that I had something interesting to share with the girl. But the only writing I had ever done was in my diary. That was only for me though. There was no way that I could share that with anyone.

 

Chapter 15

 

            “Welcome to exploratory writing class,” Dr. Vernon said that afternoon.

            It was my last class of the day, since I had individual counseling only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

            “Now, I have had all of you in English sometime today, but some of you are new to this writing class. So, I think we should go around the room and introduce ourselves and say what kind of writing you do.”

            I recognized two of the girls-the girl in the wheelchair and one other girl from my freshmen classes. The other seven people must be upperclassmen.

            “Hi, I’m Julie,” a girl in the front began, “and I write plays.

            What was I supposed to say? All I write is my diary.

            I was starting to panic as I thought hard about something to say.

            “I’m Elizabeth,” the girl in the wheelchair said, “and I write poetry.”

            “I’m Holly,” I began, “and right now I only write in my diary. But I am hoping to begin writing fiction.”

            “That is all right,” Dr. Vernon said. “Rhianna came here as a freshman the same way.”

            “And now I write Christian novels,” Rhianna said.

            After everyone had introduced themselves, Dr. Vernon passed out a syllabus of expectations for the class.

            “Since this is an exploratory class,” she began, “there are really no expectations. I’m just required to pass out a syllabus. This class is just for fun though. So if you like writing, you are in the right place. If you decide later that writing is no longer an interest of yours, you can change your mind at anytime and switch to another class.

            “This class will mostly be used as an opportunity to work on your personal writing. Some days we will have discussions about your work. Other times I might assign you a topic and have you write something in a certain style.

            “The objective of this class is to have fun while writing. Any questions?”

            This seemed like the best class ever! I couldn’t wait to get started!

            “To begin with, I’m going to have you write about how writing became a part of your life. Go ahead and grab a writing journal and pun from up front and write your name on the cover.”

            All the upperclassmen eagerly jumped up and grabbed notebooks so we freshmen quickly followed.

           

            I guess I haven’t been a writer all that long. I don’t even know if I can really be considered a writer, because all I do is write in a private journal. I just know that a pen and a notebook are my best friends.

                We haven’t been friends for all that long though. We have only been together for about three years.

                It was during my first trip to the psychiatric hospital that I was asked what I liked to do. I had recently just finished writing a short story for English class and I had found that rather enjoyable. So when asked about my interests, I said writing.

                Right after I got home, I began keeping a private diary. It was a way for me to deal with the things in my life.

                There have been rough days when I don’t even have the energy to pick up a pen, but then on the good days, all I want to do is write.

 

Chapter 16

 

            “How can you not be angry at God?” Elizabeth asked Keiko curiously at dinner that night.

            Keiko had been telling us about the meeting she had with a pastor this afternoon during her religious study class.

            “What do you mean?” Keiko asked.

            “You are depressed, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked. “How can you not blame God for your problems?”

            “Because God has a plan for everyone. Our plans just happen to include depression. God can use us through our depression.”

            “And how exactly is God using you? How exactly are you living according to God’s plans if you have tried killing yourself?”

            “I haven’t tried committing suicide since I became a Christian,” Keiko said patiently.

            “Then why are you here?” Elizabeth asked.

            “I’m still depressed.” Keiko held up her arms and showed off her cuts.

            “Then how exactly is God using you?” Elizabeth asked again.

            “Well, after I tried killing myself, my mom and I realized that God saved me for a reason. So mostly I have been working as a leader for a small depression support group. I just tell people in the group how amazing God is.”

            “And yet you are still depressed?” Elizabeth asked wondrously.

            “I can’t control the chemicals in my brain! If it was possible, none of us would be here right now.

            “Look, I am still depressed. I can’t help that. I also have an awful time not giving in to the temptation to cut. But as a Christian, my life has greatly improved. No matter how bad my life gets, I will never kill myself. I feel that it is my mission in life to share God’s love with everyone so that they can be saved.”

            “Saved?” I asked curiously.

            “In order for a person to go to Heaven, they have to give their life to God.”

            “So you are saying that just because I believe in God, that isn’t enough?” I asked.

            “You have to live your life for God,” Keiko said. “You have to make Him a part of every aspect of your life.”

            “Why would God really want me?” I asked.

            “Or me?” Elizabeth said. “I haven’t exactly lived a perfect life.”

            “Nobody is perfect!” Keiko nearly shouted. “The only perfect person there ever was is Jesus. He died on the cross to forgive our sins.”

            “I’ve done some pretty bad things,” Elizabeth said. “You know how I ended up in a wheelchair?”

            “No.”

            “I stole my parents’ car and drove off into a deep ravine. That is how come I ended up in a wheelchair. And my poetry in not exactly praising God for where I am now.”

            “It isn’t too late for either of you,” Keiko said.

            “Now isn’t the right time for me to become a Christian,” I told Keiko.

            “I will be praying for you though,” Keiko said.

            The bell rang to end dinner and we all got up to go to study hall.

            I really didn’t have much homework. I was accounting that to the fact that it was only the first day of school. But our teachers said homework was going to be minimal everyday.

            So I grabbed my backpack and followed Keiko and Elizabeth into study hall.

 

Chapter 17

 

            After a few days at Hope Academy, I felt like I had been there forever. I was actually kind of happy to be there. It was hard to believe that I had once been unhappy with life.

            As the days continued, we got to know each other better. It seemed that every student had tried killing themselves at one point. Some peoples’ stories were worse than others.

            Keiko, Elizabeth, and I really became close. Even though Keiko was a religious fanatic, Elizabeth and I tolerated her and just accepted that Christianity made her happy.

            “Are you going home this weekend?” Keiko asked me Thursday night.

            “Yeah, my mom will want to see me. Are you?”

            “Yeah, and I was kind of wondering if you would want to go to church with me.”

            “Why would I want to go to church with you? I have already told you that God and I are really not close. If God really cared about me, I wouldn’t be depressed.”

            “But God does care about you. You wouldn’t have gotten into Hope Academy if He didn’t want you to get help.”

            “I still don’t feel like I deserve depression.”

            “Do you think people deserve cancer? Or what about Elizabeth? Do you think she deserves to be in a wheelchair?”

            “Elizabeth already admitted that she is the reason she is in a wheelchair. Remember, she crashed her car.”

            “Ok, well, do you think that bad things should happen to people?”

            “You are asking that question to someone who has depression?” I asked with a laugh. “People with depression often feel guilty and feel they deserve to be punished. That is a symptom of depression, remember?”

            “Ok, forget about that. Do you know why bad things happen to good people?”

            “Bad things such as depression and cancer?” I asked. “Bad things out of a person’s control?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why does God let bad things happen to good people?” I asked curiously. All I had ever heard about God was that He loves.

            “Nobody knows,” Keiko said. “But God can use those bad things for good.”

            “You mean like you trying to kill yourself and then realizing that God wants you to do His work?”

            “Exactly! Don’t you ever wonder why you were saved?”

            The only reason I lived was because my suicide attempts were failures. My mom stepped in before I had a chance to die.”

            “You don’t think God sent your mom in to save you?”

            “If God truly wanted me, He would have made more of an effort.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Maybe He would make me better or something like that.”

            “I thought I already said that God brought you to school here. Maybe God brought you here so that I could introduce you to Him!” Keiko seemed very excited.

            “Keiko, I hate to burst your bubble, but I came here because I have severe depression and I was failing at school.”

            “Would you please just come to church with me?” Keiko begged.

            I thought for a minute. Church really didn’t sound that interesting to me. But I got the feeling that Keiko was not going to let the subject drop until I agreed.

            “Fine, but just this once.”

            “Great!”

            “But no promises that I will go back.”

            “We’ll see,” she said as she climbed into bed.

            I turned off the light and got into bed. I wasn’t sure what I had just signed up to do. Maybe I should talk to Dr. Falon after school and see what she could tell me about church.

 

Chapter 18

 

            “You seriously want to go to church?” my mom asked in disbelief when I told her about the plans Keiko and I had made.

            “Can I go?” I begged.

            “I guess. I just don’t see why you want to go. You’ve never been one for religion. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to go?”

            “Keiko is a really big Christian and she begged me to go.”

            “You could have told her no.”

            “Maybe a part of me is curious. You’ve never exactly told me about God.”

            “Why should I? It’s not like I exactly had a close relationship with God. First, He took away my mom, then He took away your dad, and then He nearly took away you!”

            A part of me was really curious, so that is how I found myself excited and nervous as Keiko and I entered God’s Children’s Church on Sunday.

            “Why are we going to a kid’s church?” I asked Keiko as we waited for church to begin.

            “Why do you think this is a kids’ church?” she asked with a laugh.

            “This church is called God’s Children’s Church.”

            “That’s because every human is a child of God. Every child of God’s is welcome here.”

            Just then a band came forward and we began singing.

            I’m not one for singing and the songs were unfamiliar but I did my best. And after a few songs, the pastor came forward.

            Keiko pulled out a notebook and began writing.

            “What are you doing?” I whispered.

            “I use this notebook to take notes,” she replied.

            I turned to the pastor. I really wished that I had brought my diary so that I could write down my thoughts too.

            “We all have events from our lives that were traumatic,” the pastor began. “The events can be from the extreme end such as being in the Twin Towers on September 11^th or being abused. The events can be as small as a fight with a friend to doing something embarrassing.

            “We are all scarred from life’s events. Some of those scars are deeper than others. Some of those wounds healed better than others.

            “Why would God let those bad events haunt us? Why would God even let those things happen in the first place?

            “Have you ever had a bad thing happen to you and then later look back to see God working through the situation?”

            “I met with a teenager earlier in the week that was able to see God working through the situation and was able to give her life to God afterwards. She has given me permission to tell her story today.

            “She was feeling very depressed and eventually decided to end her life. She jumped off a bridge but survived. Afterwards, she and her mom became Christians after realizing that God had saved her for a reason. Now, the girl has decided to follow God’s plans for her.”

            “You met with this guy?” I asked Keiko incredulously.

            “He is my religious studies partner,” she whispered.

            “Bad things happen,” the pastor said. “But we can use those times for God. As the Bible says, ‘God has plans for us to make us prosper’. He isn’t going to fail us.”

            As everyone began singing again, I thought about what the pastor had just said.

            I wasn’t like Keiko. I wasn’t able to get past my depression and live for God. What was I supposed to do for God anyway? The only thing I was really good at was writing in my diary. Other than that, my depression interfered with my life.

 

Chapter 19

 

            “Now that you have done some writing for me,” Dr. Vernon said in writing class, “you now have an opportunity to work on something of your own. There is no homework in this class, but at the end of the semester, I want you to turn in what you have been working on. It can be a poem or the start of a story of whatever you choose to do. The product does not have to be finished; you just need to turn something in.”

            There was no way that I was going to turn in my diary so I needed to come up with an idea to write about for my first story.

 

            “What should I write about?” I asked Keiko later that night.

            “What kinds of things do you like?” she asked.

            “Writing.”

            “You are going to write about writing?” she asked with a laugh. “What else is a big part of your life?”

            “Depression,” I said sarcastically.

            “Why are you stressing so much about this, Holly? I thought your writing class is supposed to be relaxing.”

            It was. I was being reminded of middle school and getting overwhelmed by homework.

            “But if I don’t come up with an idea, than I won’t be able to write a story. And I’m not turning in my diary for a final product.”

            “Holly, why don’t we pray? It will make you feel better to turn everything over to God.”

            “Keiko, I don’t know. Church was really good yesterday and I found the sermon interesting but I’m not ready for a relationship with God.”

            “Just let me pray for you. I think you might be surprised that you will feel much better.”

            “Fine.”

            Keiko closed her eyes, folded her hands, and bowed her head. I followed suit.

            “Lord,” she prayed, “I just want to lift up Holly to You. She is struggling to find a writing topic. I just pray that You help her relax. Let her write for You. Amen.”

            “I still don’t have a topic,” I said impatiently.

            “God does not always give instant answers to prayers, Holly. Sometimes you have to wait and just be patient. Sometimes God answers prayers in mysterious ways.”

            “Maybe you should have given God a time frame,” I suggested.

            “I don’t think it works like that,” Keiko said with a small laugh.

            “So what should I do in the meantime while I wait for an answer?”

            “Write in your diary? Just start writing about a topic and see if inspiration strikes?”

            “It would be easier if inspiration would just hit now.”

            “If God has plans for you to be a writer, He won’t fail you. You just need to trust Him.”

            “Which is a little difficult when nothing good has ever happened to me.”

            “Don’t you remember what we heard at church yesterday? During the bad times, God is working. Sometimes we just don’t see it until it is all over.”

            “Unlike you though, I am not happy that I didn’t succeed with my suicide attempt.”

            Even though it was still early, I got in bed without changing into my pajamas. I just wanted to go to bed and shut out the world. If I never woke up, I would be all right with that. I was tired of dealing with the world. I just wanted to be left alone.

 

Chapter 20

 

            “Are you all right?” Dr. Vernon asked one day during writing class.

            We were supposed to be using the class period to just write but I was finding it difficult to concentrate. I also really didn’t feel like writing.

            “Sorry, I was just think about what to write,” I lied.

            “Need any help?” Dr. Vernon asked.

            “No thanks. I think I know what I want to say.”

            I turned back to my notebook and wrote a couple of sentences describing the character.

            We had been doing free writing almost everyday for the last two weeks and I still didn’t know what to write about. I started a new story almost everyday. Today I was writing about a girl who lived in Hawaii. God had still not revealed an idea to me yet. I really saw no point in my dream of being a writer.

            “Would you come here for a minute, Holly?” Dr. Vernon asked.

            I jumped at the sound of her voice. I had been staring into space again and now I was in trouble for not writing.        

            I got up and went over to Dr. Vernon’s desk.

            “Why don’t we go in the hall to talk?” she said gently.

            Great, I was in huge trouble.

            “Is everything ok?” she asked when the classroom door was firmly shut.

            “I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time concentrating. I promise I will do better.”

            “I can see that you really have no interest in writing today though.”

            She was right. I didn’t.

            “Who is your psychiatrist?”

            “Dr. Wheeler.”

            “I think Dr. Wheeler has free time right now. Why don’t you go see her?”

            I knew why Dr. Vernon was suggesting that I go see my psychiatrist. She knew that I was depressed. That was the great thing about this school. The teachers knew about depression.

            I walked up the stairs to Dr. Wheeler’s office and knocked on the door.

            “Come in,” Dr. Wheeler called.

            I opened the door and went inside.

            Dr. Wheeler was at her desk working on something but when she saw me she pushed her work aside and stood up.

            “What can I do for you, Holly?” she asked.

            I flopped down on the couch.

            “I don’t think you can give me what I really want,” I said sadly. “I want a life where I am in charge.”

            “I can only help you to some extent,” she said as she took a seat in the chair across from me. “Unfortunately, there is only so much I can do.”

            “I wish there was an easy answer to depression,” I said. “An answer that isn’t suicide.”

            “Are you feeling suicidal right now?” Dr. Wheeler asked.

            “No.”

            I really wasn’t. I wasn’t just saying that so I wouldn’t get admitted. I did feel like my life was pointless. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I felt like I really had no hope for the future. I felt like I would never be a successful writer because I had no interest in writing anymore and I couldn’t find a writing topic. Everything was just making me feel sad.

            “Is there something causing you to feel depressed?” Dr. Wheeler asked.

            “Well, I am not overwhelmed by schoolwork. And I do really like it here.”

            Dr. Wheeler and I continued talking. I did feel a little better when Dr. Wheeler dismissed me after an hour. I knew it was only temporary though. My depression was back.

 

Chapter 21

 

            Depression at Hope Academy is much different than when I was in middle school. For instance, in middle school, the teacher neither knew nor cared that I was depressed. So I would fall behind in my homework.

            At Hope Academy, all the teachers know when a student is depressed. The teachers are willing to work with students in order to get homework completed.

            My depression got so bad that Dr. Wheeler talked my mom into having me stay on the weekends. She thought staying would be a benefit for me. So while almost student went home, I stayed with the other severely depressed students and received extra time with the psychiatrist.

            One day, it all became too much. I didn’t want to live with depression anymore. I wanted to have a normal life and go to a regular high school and do regular activities, like sports and clubs, not sessions with the psychiatrist.

            MY life was never going to be normal. Hope Academy could only help so much, but eventually I was going to have to face the real world. And the idea of that didn’t cheer me up.

            I knew that at Hope Academy, there would be no way I would be able to end it all. And I knew that they wouldn’t let me go home because the school officials were worried I would do just that.

            As I looked around my room I shared with Keiko on day, I thought about how I would succeed this time.

            After being at Hope Academy for awhile, I have learned how a lot of students have attempted suicide. There were lots of options, but at Hope Academy, I was limited. I realized it was that way on purpose. There was a reason for limited belongings and searched possessions.   

            I wandered around the room, looking for anything.     

            Keiko had done a really nice job decorating this place, despite having so few possessions. She had takes some paper and made posters of Bible verses. Even though I wasn’t a Christian, I thought they made our room look much better.

            “I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me,” one of the posters read.

            “If that was true, than I would be depressed anymore,” I said to myself.

            I went over to another poster.

            “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

            I wish I could trust the Lord to make me well.

            “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

            Where would I go if I succeeded? Did I actually consider myself a believer when I have never acknowledged God before?

            Would death really solve anything? I would end the temporary pain of my life on earth but if that verse was true, than I would not be going to a better place. It would probably be worse than my life now.

            And what if I decided to live right now but something else caused me to die. I could have an aneurism or die from pneumonia. I could be in a terrible accident and my life would be over. Death is so uncertain. And what if I wasn’t ready?

            I needed God in my life! My life would be so much better on earth and then I would be rewarded in the next life!

            “Are you all right, Holly?” Keiko asked as she came into the room.

            “How do I become a Christian?” I asked quickly.

            “What?” Keiko asked in surprise.

            “Death is so uncertain. I want God in my life right now!”

            Keiko threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug.

            “How did you decide this?” Keiko asked curiously. “I thought you were mad at God for giving you depression.”

            “Well, I was in here wishing I could die when I started reading your posters. I started wondering where I would go if I died and realized it probably wouldn’t be good.

            “I may have depression and I might have it the rest of my life. But I want God to be a part of my life. With God in my life, I think things will be much better. And someday, I will have eternal life.”

            “You won’t regret giving your life to God,” Keiko said with a huge smile. “I still have depression despite being a Christian, but I know my life has greatly improved since bringing God into my life.”

 

Epilogue

 

            Keiko was right; my life did get better once I became a Christian.

            After I decided I wanted to become a Christian, Keiko and I prayed, telling God that I accepted His forgiveness and wanted Him to come into my life.

            Then, Keiko talked to the pastor at her church who then came and talked to me about baptism. And then Sunday I was baptized.

            After that, I prayed that God would reveal His plans for me. That’s when I started writing a novel about a teenage girl who has depressed and goes to a high school for students who are depressed. There, she meets her Christian roommate and eventually finds God.

            I’m really excited about this novel for several reasons. One, I can use it for my exploratory writing class. Two, I really enjoy writing. And finally, I’m following God’s plans for me.