Muses: Memory... and a prayer

You know, memories are funny things.

Everybody remembers stuff in odd ways. ... I can't really tell you what these ways are, because memory is something inside peoples' heads, and I am only inside of my own head---sorry. So, try to look into your own little squishy brain and see, perhaps?
Mine's an odd memory-keeper. I don't know how many other people remember in this way: it stores in emotions, colours, and sounds. I remember a blur of something, having fun, lots of voices... that'd be a dance or party, and it would be associated with my heart doing a ka-THUMP because I don't like the crowded scene. Claustrophobia and all.
It also stores repetitive memories (to Random: the imparfait ones ;) ) with a key image or little 'clip'. I'll share some of them, and maybe you can try to compare it to how your brain would store that sort of memory. I find mental processes fascinating, by the way. I'm going into psychology...

Memory one:
Camp. Summer-- cannonballing off of a tube into the water, the splash of the water, the sound of my dad's laughter... yes, his in particular. Don't ask me why.

Memory two:
Camp. Winter-- snowmobiling, the smell of that exhaust, cold toesies. Then curled up in front of a fire with a good book and hot chocolate. The rough texture of the blankets. Flushed cheeks. Snuggling with my best friend.

Memory three:
Birthday parties-- Laughter. Lots of laughter and lots of hugs. Flashes of seven year-old and thirteen year-old me... those two years in particular come to me.

Now that I've shown how my mind works,  I can finally explain the reason why I so seldom go into detail of the four months I went through. They were painful, and my mental timeline has been completely befuddled with. I can't say when something happened or even what it was, only that I think it happened, though I may very well have imagined or dreamt it.

Memory four:
Four months of severe depression--
Me, sitting on the floor. I'm kneeling, sitting on my feet. My sweater is loose, grey, one I've never seen before, never even owned. My guess is that it is simply a neutral colour and a neutral article of clothing. Everything around me is black; I can't see anything besides me. I can see me from above, this is like a bird's eye view except a lot closer. My head is tilted up, towards the heavens, looking past anything I can see.
My mouth is open
And I'm screaming.
Screaming like I am going through the most excruciating pain of my life, my eyes eventually closing, my hands balled in fists at my sides. Eventually the image fades off but I can still hear the scream as it dissolves into sobbing.

This is why I refer to them as the four months of living hell. Why I wince when I have to talk about it. Why I cried and sobbed and begged my mom not to make me go talk to counsellors and therapists.
I've gone to five separate people, by the way. That's how the system failed me. I was referred four times, and by the time I found the last person who actually seemed helpful, I had learnt to deal. Learnt to keep the screaming in my head and to not completely lose it where anyone could see me.


Dear God,
Please make me value life again, and make me stop falling into these periods. I don't even know what triggers them anymore. I was laughing my head off earlier. It all makes no sense to me.
I frighten myself with the way I'm thinking. It's far too desperate. I'm supposed to be getting better, but instead I feel like I'm getting worse. I think it's because I'm letting go of everything: letting go of my initiative, of my will to live... letting go of You. I know I need to hold on tighter. Just... don't let me drift off. Because then I'll drift completely away. I should know better. But I don't.
Amen.

~Godspede