When I was small, my father would close himself in his room and I would sit there, knocking quietly, “Daddy? Daddy, please let me in”. With no answer, I’d simply stay there for hours. Days. The entire visitation.
When I got older, I closed my own door. My family didn’t understand why. They couldn’t see in to the tears, the skipped meals, and the ever so gentle cutting of my own skin. I would cry out for help in the middle of the night, to have no one here.
On April 6th of 2012, I slammed the door shut as I balanced an armful of pill containers in my arms. No one was home, but the door needed to be closed for one more moment alone. I swallowed every pill and laid myself down to die. Rascal Flatts sang to me as my body grew clumsy and heavy.
Suddenly, I heard the words of “Stand” come through the fog. And in my mind, I pictured a future. New York. England. Travel. The door was open to me and I was attempting to close it.
It was that moment my life changed. The door that I’d closed was cracked open. And after two years, it is still open. Occasionally, it will slip closed. But you can’t just “get rid” of depression. It’s a constant battle. A battle I am winning.
I graduate in ten days for a school devoted to travel. I will soon be off, opening the doors to this world. I opened the door of my heart to another lost soul, and together, we’re opening doors of love and trust.
In the movie “Frozen”, which I adore, they say that “Love is an open door”. I agree, but have to add that so is Life.
Never close your door. Leave it open to the chances I know are coming you way.
My door is open, come on in.
My Own Little Kingdom 