Keep the Faith

That night was terrifying. My whole life was basically a game, a weird feeling that never ended. Almost like fear was a pressence.
I had become a nervous wreck, my tears staining my blue bedspread. I couldn't help it, I felt as close as I could to dead. I didn't know why.

Someone was watching me. At five, someone was watching me. Their eyes were starring right through the four dull walls that surrounded me, their nails scratching through the paved wood. I was afraid to blink. I couldn't, the fear might have gotten to me.

But what could I have done? What could I do now? Nothing, it had appeared. And disappeared, making my confidence rise a level, then drop once more. Changing in my room had always made me a wreck, the five, shiny posters that were now on my wall, the men on them, their eyes.

It had reminded me, intimidated me. I stopped breathing, my heart beat slowing down. My eyes played constant tricks on me, ones that couldn't stop themselves. Nothing could it seemed, and I was scared. I was the one playing tricks on myself. Noises would come out of my mouth when silence accured, and whenever in a full room, my breathing slowed down, once more.
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My mother rushed me, my sister and father out into the city that day, to see the doctor. She wanted help for me, and I knew this is where effort would actually have to kick in. We waited for hours, and at that point I felt dizzy. What hurt so much to do, what seemed to cause the pain, was apparently about to be 'fixed'. Like a toy truck, or a sink. Just like that, gone. I assumed it was just a needle, or many different treatments, but what had happened was just weird.

"Good afternoon Mrs.. Is this Brooklyn?" My mother replied with a yes, shaking the woman's hand and gesturing to me. She was the doctor, I assumed.
"Hi." I mumbled, moving my hand, trying to wave. I was never such a calm, person, one that lacked hope. Nor was I shy, but everytime I was at the doctor's, it had come over me.

"So, would you like to explain to me the pain, or..trouble you have had with your daughter..?" The doctor trailed off, then shifted my direction. "Or would you like to tell me?"
"Go ahead," my mom whispered.

I took a deep breath. There are some points in your life that seem like water. Where they can first appear shallow, and you expect the person to know how you feel, and don't like sharing. Others are high, where everything can be happy-go-lucky, and just everything is amazing. Where you want the good feelings to burst out of you. Kind of bi-polar. That day, was one of the shallow ones.

"For a while, I've just kept doing these...facial expressions, or..noises. Hums and haws, and uhm...." I looked at my mom.
"Basically when it's quite, well, that's when it's easier to notice, when she's alone."

"..And, Brooklyn, how's school life?" The doctor had a clipboard, like they all do. It made my shallow water riple.
"Fine." I mumbled. "I get A's and B's. It doesn't really stop me from doing anything. Not drastically, at least."

She nodded, scribbling something down on the green paper. I wished she's stop it, it was making me blink again. I didn't know how it looked to someother people, probably like I'm rolling my eyes inside out.
The woman looked up, originally to blow her dark hair out of her face, but then to me. "Is that one of the symptons?"

I coughed, "Yes." I replied.
"Mmmhm." She left the room, excusing herself. She left her clipboard on the chair, in open eye's view.
It had my name and birthday, age and address, some notes on what my mother and I had said. The doctor appeared in the small room again, picking up the clipboard and sitting down.

"So, Brooklyn, 'Mom.' " I scoffed. The doctor just called my mom, well, mom. I think she was trying to seem friendly, warming almost. "It appears to me, that these habits of hers are tics."
My mom nodded, I rolled my eyes. We both knew was never heard of it before.

"....That's like a sneeze, or a blink. Something you can't control. So, Brooklyn, you have tourettes."

My mother had brought it up before, long ago though. Said I made constant movements and noises. What exactly it was, I hadn't known.
"..A-are you sure, doctor?" My mother hesitated.

"Yes. If you have had a facial expression, and a constant movement for over a year, then that's tourrettes." She spelled it out on her clipboard for me to see, like I could not have figured it out.

The drive home was awkward, my parents bickering about the present situation, and my sister just smirking. I didn't find it so amusing, because I couldn't have gotten help. They said the treatments they had for me would be worse then the symptons themselves. Time had passed, and my teacher iritated me. My friends were picking on me, my sister being a hassle.

My math homework was almost completed, until my mother charged into the room. "So..we have another doctors appointment tomorrow.."
I stopped chewing my pencil, and spun my chair towards my mom. "Why? We already went, they couldn't help."

"Yes, but Dad's friend Brent, he pointed out homeopathic theropy.It's a doctor, but they do it with all natural cures, and herbs and stuff."
"..Okay." My mom nodded, obviously excited. Ever since I learned about my Tourettes, it was my parents that were always happy about doctors. To get me cured, or helped. To ''get the bundled toxins out of me." I was just, more startled then ever. Not knowing what to think, or how to react.

I woke up the next morning quivering. And in our car, and out of the car, when my feet touched the stone driveway. The doctor was retired, and now worked in his home on requests. His house, was huge. He would almost be considered a pack rat by the way he kept his home, he seemed to have everything but it was organized. He was very tall, and skinny at that matter, with a strong german accent. I remember everytime that I went there, I sercretly enjoyed it. Although, my spirits dropped when the large price flashed on the cash register, and my mom payed him for more medicine everytime. I felt used, sometimes, like all this was a joke. That the medicine would just keep coming, and yes, it worked, I almost never ticked which I found amazing, but something just made me want to fall to peices.

School had been more unusual, my friends calling me names, my current obsession over school, trying to ignore the three girls I once always hung out with. Maybe this is good, I thought. It's my last year 'til high school, I just need to relax, focus on my grades. That was possible, after all they weren't in my class this year. Everytime I saw them, my gut would tell me to just walk over and hug them. They still liked me, but that feeling started to fade for a while. They had made me angry, but part of it was my fault, right? Confused thoughts rushed through my head, leaving me unable to think clearly.

At home, life was stressful too. I had started to not take my medicine, saying I 'forgot' or, 'there is so much, and I didn't have the time.' It left my parents angry with me, leaving me grounded almost all the time. My younger sister, (the tall and skinny one) tried to help, but I don't think I allowed her too. It had been a new year, to say, and I didn't have as many doctor appointments. That brightened me up, and I started to chill out.

Eventually, I hung out with the three girls again, still maintained on school work. My medicine disappeared more and more each day, and everything seemed to be great.

I didn't believe in God, I didn't know why. My mother, and father, sister and friends. Whole family, believed in some kind of religion. I appeared to be the stubborn, agnostic twelve year old who thought she knew what was what. When I hadn't been talking to my friends, and was mad at my family, there was no one to go to. No God, or Jesus.

Just me.
And that's what I did, I told my feelings to myself. A phycotic wreck. It had been entertaining at first, constantly talking to myself, about what I wanted to be, and how my life was. Until it stuck.
I couldn't stop, and everytime I was left alone, I talked to myself. Pretended I was famous, thinking out revenge, talking over stress. It was nonstop, and scaring me.

The feeling of being invisible came over me. Was I really alive? Did I have so many toxins sucked out that it killed me? I felt not alive, not physically, but emotionally. At school I felt best, but at home it was almost scary sometimes. I treated normally, until one night, I couldn't take it. I cried, my hardest, on the bathroom floor for hours. I started hitting my head, freaking out.

It's just a phaise, yes. I'm just having a bad day, and it'll all be fine. Yes, it was a phaise. Technically, and I didn't need help, or doctors. Medicine, or phycology. I just needed time. It was at that point I rushed downstairs and out the door, sitting in my shadow on our stone porch. Just inhaling, and exhaling. Deep breathing, calming me down.

"Honey, why are you out here?!" My mom rushed to me, when I then cried in her arms, telling her what I had been through. She was scared. She was always scared for me, I was the freaky child. Well, no, but the last year had been stressful for me because of my tourettes. We sat on the steps, and after telling her, I felt..

..Awake. Calm, like a sudden heat had come over me. I told her that, and I started to cry again. I sound like such an idiot, I thought. But this is true.

That whole night, after promising mom I'd be fine, I when I was scared in my steps. I was afraid to sleep. You know what saying, that before you die, you life flashes before your eyes. I woke up with terror, after seeing my childhood, and my ballet classes. I was scared, and pale. What was going on? I didn't want to close my eyes, everytime I would the memories came creeping from the back of my mind. I felt like I was going to die, nothing could calm me. I constantly got up, just shaking it off, trying to feel normal. So tired, but so scared. Why did someone at my age, have to go through such a dark thing? I tried my ipod, but I didn't think I could take it.

I started to hum. My favourite song, too. Desert song. It was such a relaxed melody, and the vocals strived excellence. It made me tear up, everytime I listening to the lyrics, those amazing words that trembled and cracked in Gerard's voice. I started singing it a bit, quietly, to myself.

Did we all fall down? Did we all fall down? Did we all fall down? Did we all...fall...down. From the lights to the pavement
My singing became a tad bit louder. From the van, to the floor, from backstage....
I was laying down at that point, and it was from where I was in the song, I felt most calm. And okay, tired, but okay. ..to the doctors...from the earth to the...
As scared enough I was to say it, mourge, mourge...mourge...
And I was out. Asleep, in that case. It was peaceful, and the dark of the night settled my moods. I prayed, to God.
I asked him, to find me. I needed him most, at this time most. I secretly loved him, and I wanted to know him. I wanted my troubles and fear to go away.

It was then that, I felt, warm, like sun was on me. Relaxed, at the most, happy. I think he was there, and..he was. I found him. At the most terrifying time in my life, I had recieved one of the most beautiful things.

God.
My life has been fine since that night. The memories, forever fade, but are strong enough to tell them. It was, for that song, that kept me going. And as foolish as it seems,

they helped me find God.