The Storm That Lies Within

We have all overcome hardships in our lives, but it’s how we respond to those hardships that truly make us beautiful people. How we deal with our emotions and the events happening to us really defines the type of person we are. I am the type to face my hardships and figure out how I can heal or correct the behavior. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I started to face it head-on.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2, and I learned that some of my experiences were because of the mania stage.  Working on my mental health, is something that I have struggled with since I was 12 years old. My depression was triggered when my best friend died a few days after her birthday, I remember that day like it was yesterday. At the kitchen table, I was writing a stupid essay for P.E., and I had paper wad after paper wad all over the floor and table. All of a sudden I started crying, deep sobbing and I didn’t understand why, not until my sister came running up the stairs seconds later, “MOM, IT’S STORM!”

That’s when my life changed, forever, and to this day I have multiple triggers caused from that day. It’ll be 20 years since her death and all the memories we shared are coming to the surface. The ebb and flow of sorrow and grief run through me like waves in the ocean. I feel, as though, I am sometimes a piece of wood drifting with the tide; swaying back and forth, flipping and turning with each wave. 

This year feels different; I don’t know if it’s because I have worked hard to discover and treat my traumas or am I finally healing from those traumas. I knew that was when my depression was triggered, but what I didn’t realize is that’s when my family started to breakdown. Storm wasn’t the only best friend we lost that year. Shelley, my sister’s best friend, committed suicide a month later. My sister and I, people that would have been in your lives till the end. Looking back now I can see my parents were suffering, too. Not only did they lose two loving souls, but they lost their children too. The buoyant happy child, that I, was no more. My sister, the intelligently stubborn teenager, drifted from her family, turning to drugs, drinking and partying. 

My parents, not only had to console their own breaking hearts, but also two very different children. One thing to know about my family is they tend to be stoic. The emotions and pain stays within and talking about ourselves didn’t happen often. There were times they would cry with me, particularly when I first played Storm’s team in school ball. On the way home, I cried in my mothers arms. Her jersey was hanging in the gym and the memory of sitting in the stands, as her father screamed, “WHY!!!” I couldn’t move in fear of collapsing, she was my best friend, my teammate, my sister. 

The family had lost so much in such a short amount of time. Right after Storm died, I remembered not being able to sleep because I was crying and wanted to be held. I went into the living room hoping someone would hear me and surprisingly it was my sister who came to console me. That would be the last time she did that. We were never close, but after Shelley died, the distance grew and grew. My sister turned to her vices as a way to shield the pain, and I turned to movies. Being so young I didn’t have any coping mechanisms to help process the pain I was feeling. So movies pushed that pain away just for a few hours. The next summer my parents bought an unfinished house, and I would lay with my sleeping bag watching TV all day. 

The depression was present by now, and I didn’t understand what was happening. My mother took me to the doctor and they officially diagnosed me with depression. I had multiple side effects from the medicine: weight gain, emotionally numb, insomnia, restlessness, etc… What didn’t help was that my parents weren’t able to help monitor the treatment. I eventually quit the meds on my own and worked up the courage to pick up the ball. In that moment, I knew I would dedicate each game to Storm. That was the first sign of me making the choice to find happiness. Basketball was once again my outlet; I would find myself shooting in the middle of the night shooting and thinking about was bothering me. I was becoming myself again, granted a more reserved version of myself. 

After 16 years of wanting a tattoo I finally got a forearm sleeve tattoo of a nature scene with mountains. One the inside of my forearm I have a lightning bolt hitting Long’s Peak.  I’ve always wanted a tattoo to symbolize my love for her, and I’m happy my parents wouldn’t let me get what I wanted as a teenager. As I continue to find myself and push through the traumas of my past, I can now look at my tattoo as a reminder that she is in a better place, and she is looking over all of us. 

Throughout the years since her death, Storm has played a crucial role in my development. Many people benefited from knowing Storm and today, 20 years later, she’s still impacting athletes. There is an article that I recently read about a young female athlete from Lawrence County. The article spoke about how the athlete chose to wear Storm’s number in college, and she named her daughter Storm. Seeing how Storm touched so many lives is truly remarkable.

The reason I wanted to write about this particular part of my life is the journey it has taken me on. I have tried multiple antidepressants and most of those have failed. Today, I am on the right cocktail of drugs to help me stay centered so I can work on healing and finding positive coping skills. In February of 2020, I started therapy and I have learned so much about my traumas and how it affects me. Now that I have multiple tools in my mental tool box, I can say that people wouldn’t know I’m bipolar if we were friends. It is because I have put in the work to better myself. If there is anyone struggling with mental health know that it takes time so be patient. You will find who you were meant to be in the work you put forth.

This article is dedicated to my best friend and her loving family.