I wish people understood that those who suffer from depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, etcetera, don’t do it by choice. Hear me out: We make decisions and have experiences leading up to these addictions and mental illnesses.

Sometimes depression is our only companion. Sometimes the alcohol or drug feels like our only cure in the world because even if it’s temporary, we can forget about the painful thoughts eating away at our minds. People that go through this, we know it’s bad, even if we’re in denial at first. We are suffering on the inside, even if we put up a front. We actually spend a lot of time thinking about our wrongdoings and the people we’ve hurt, which just continues to add onto our reason to escape the pain. We don’t want to be like this. We had dreams and goals and things we wanted… and we still do. But a lot of us gave up on those things already.

I’m looking up, you’re looking down. I gaze around, trying to find something to stare at other than you. Alas, it is you that I want. It is you that my eyes are drawn to. 

I hold your hand but your phone is in the other. I’m waiting for you to draw your attention to me. I am waiting for your voice to break the silence. I search your face longingly, wanting you to look back at me. But you are stuck to the screen- comments and videos and Facebook posts, flashing by in the reflection of your eyes. That’s more important it seems. 

When was the last time we really looked at one another?

I remember in grade school we would always make crafts for holidays. And of course in May, Mother’s Day would roll around and I’d excitedly ask other classmates what they’re going to do or make for their mom. Often times they’d reply with, “I don’t have a mom,” or “I’m making it for my stepmom,” and sometimes they’d tell me their grandma is the one that takes care of them. I remember feeling surprised because I didn’t really understand it at the time; and sometimes I felt bad for asking.

I grew up with a mother that worked full time so when I was in daycare she’d drop me off early in the morning and I’d always wait to be picked up afterwards. Once I started kindergarten, I would always excitedly greet her at the door when she would come home from work. She’s always provided me and my family with unconditional love, and I think that’s truly what part of being a mother is about.

I’m not saying that people have to have a mom in order to be happy or celebrate Mother’s Day; I’ve always believed that being a mother is much more than a matter of biology. It’s about accepting the good with the bad. It is a full time commitment, not a matter of convenience. For those that serve as guidance to the child in your life – whether you are a mother or you have taken on the role of a mother in order to nurture a child as they grow – this day is for you.

It was around 2 in the morning when I had awoke from this nightmare, believing I was still in another dream. The fear and loneliness I felt caused me to have a panic attack. It’s been a year since this happened. It’s not so much a scary story as it was a scary experience that caused me to question my sense of self and psychological well-being. The following is a recount of what happened.

Part 1: The Nightmare Ghosts, intruders, and people were trying to kill me- a recurring theme for over a decade (the earliest nightmare I can recall is when I was 4)- bombarded my dream. In one part of my dream, I was sitting in the passenger side of a car with my boyfriend and younger sisters… we were driving along when the mirror light shattered and I knew something was wrong. “They’re coming” I explained. They were all confused until I quickly proceeded to explain that there were ghosts after us, trying to kill us, or perhaps it was just me they were after. I remember a face with wild eyes peering into the open window, screaming at me and trying to stab me. Multiple shadowy figures of hands were reaching out from the glove compartment and from under the seat to grab my legs. I was screaming. Everyone was trying to help me get rid of the ghosts- for the first time in my dreams, they could see the ghosts too.

[Next scene] In what I assumed was “my” house- I opened the front door and it was dark outside. I saw the outlines of bushes and trees from the moonlight – it was a full moon. After opening the door, a young, pale boy (not sure if he was ghost keep human) tried to tackle and stab me.

[Next scene] I was running through a jade and red temple with high ceilings and Chinese artifacts. We considered the temple a part of our home. I kept running into multiple ghosts, yelling for them to go away and trying to fight them off. I told everyone to either run away or fight the ghosts, including my cousins and aunts and uncles that were there.

[Next scene] Inside the main house, there was another male ghost. Sort of on the skinny side with snake-like movements, as if he had no bones in his limbs although he could stand up straight. He wore a black gas mask with red glowing eyes, a black drawstring hoodie, camouflage cargo pants and black/brown boots. His hair was wavy and a sandy blonde. I remember him the most because he was the last one I saw in my dream before awakening. He crawled over the side of the staircase railing and I panicked. I begged for my brother to kill the ghost. He hesitantly said yes. I forget what he did to it but the ghost with the mask was finally gone and I was relieved.

I asked my grandma (my dad’s mom) if she could see the ghosts too and she replied yes. I went up to my father, who was speaking with older relatives, to ask if I had the same power as grandma which would explain why I could see ghosts. He replied, “no Maylea. I know enough about psychology to know that you have psychosis.” That’s when my world began to fall apart. I questioned everything I had done up until that point.

I frantically went to my boyfriend and sisters and asked them, “we killed ghosts right? You see the ghosts right?”

“What are you talking about?” They all said in confusion.

No, this couldn’t be happening. Suddenly it felt as though all of the ghosts were lingering nearby once more. The last person I went to was my brother.

I hugged him and cried “you killed the ghost for me earlier, right?”

“Yeah,” he responded flatly.

“I need you to be honest with me. Did you do it because it was real or because you felt obligated to?”

He sighed and awkwardly looked away. “Maylea, ghosts aren’t real.”

And suddenly I was looking over at the ghost in the mask, standing only 6-8 feet away. I couldn’t see his facial expression but I imagine he was smiling evilly with an intent to kill. I looked back at my brother to notice he was also wearing the same cargo pants as the ghost. But within a blink of an eye, he was gone. So were my sisters, and boyfriend, and dad, and other relatives. Even the ghost had suddenly disappeared. I was alone in a well lit house (daylight) along with dead silence. Although it was bright, I had the eerie feeling that I was the only person in the world at that moment. Who am I? Am I going crazy? Is this a joke? Where is everyone? Why am I alone? Am I actually psychotic? Barely able to speak, I called out for my mother. Nothing would come out. “Mom! Mom! Mom!!” I could only mouth the words although I felt I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

Part 2: Waking Up

Suddenly I awoke in the dark of the room laying on my right side. Still half asleep, I mouthed the words “mom” one last time before blinking my eyes open and adjusting to what I questioned to be real life. Am I safe? Am I alone? Am I still going crazy? After a few moments, all the fear and questioning of my sanity hit me. I began crying and hyperventilating- gasping for air. I whimpered and choked on my tears.

Perhaps I’m in a coma and all of this is a dream itself. Perhaps I’m psychotic in an alternate universe. Perhaps I’m overthinking everything and it’s just a dream. But whichever it is, I could not shake the fact that I woke up scared for my life. I was scared of myself and questioned my reality. Who am I? What’s real and not real? What IS reality? Who is looming in the shadows to see me fail? Who can I rely on- to trust and confide in? Who will be there for me when I don’t know who I am?

After taking 10 or so minutes to calm down, I reflected on this dream and its meaning to my waking life, in order to quell my fear. The ghosts, signifying obstacles or people that try to bring me down. My sisters and boyfriend, the first people I typically talk to and ask for help. My dad, someone I look up to for advice, but am often left questioning myself once he uses his education and diagnostics to invalidate my emotions. My older brother, the person I talk to for reassurance because I figure he knows more and/or has been through it already. My mom, my last beacon of hope. Even when I’m all alone, I will always believe she can help me, keep me safe, and be strong when I am not.

Part 3: Further Analysis

Again, it was only a dream, but what scared me so much was not having anyone believe me. I have trust issues and paranoia about people talking behind my back or secretly disliking me. “You don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your own sanity. You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you thought you trusted and loved, tell you they don’t believe you and that you’re crazy,” is all I can think of to explain how I felt.

**This may also derive from my fear/paranoia of mental and physical health issues. (Ironic, I know).

Communication is made so easy in the 21st century. 

There are no more late nights in the living room waiting for a phone call; now we can physically carry our phone around in the palm of our hand and talk on the phone without the restriction of a curly chord. No more guessing where someone is when trying to meet them because we can find out a person’s location from looking on a screen. Long distance relationships are made easier by being able to spend hours seeing each other through video chatting. No more waiting for letters to be written, sent, and delivered for days or weeks or months. Instead, we can send a text within a few seconds, make national and international phone calls within the click of a button, or even tell our phones to call that person for us. Most people don’t even remember phone numbers anymore.

But have we made it too easy? So easy knowing that we have the option of sending that person a text or just leaving them on read? Or not opening their message at all. Ignoring a call because you know you can call them back at your own convenience. 

I think we’ve taken for granted the ability to communicate with someone. We don’t do it often enough, face to face or online. Even when we are physically with someone, we end up spending more time looking at the screen, scrolling and consuming all these things that are the internet. And when we are apart we may hardly bother to contact that person at all.

Something as simple as eye contact has become such an intimate and special thing to me. To truly see someone and have them look back at you. The emotional connection, whether you are conversing or just sitting in silence.

I believe we loved so much more and took for granted much less when it was harder to be together.

I’m often afraid to share or post on social media because people are quick to judge and start rumors or make fun. But the initial idea of social media was to connect people. However, now we’re more disconnected than ever. Between religion and opinions and ideas, etcetera. It’s hard to even express your own experiences without someone saying you’re a bad person, not knowing what you’ve gone through. 
But I think that if you feel like spreading and spouting hate speech, racism, ignorance and negativity, then that says a lot about you and what you have to contribute to society and conversations. 
The people putting out content have a voice, and they should be able to share that. It’s not one-sided, where only the receivers of content can judge and disagree and say offensive things. 
I’m not sure what kind of online persona I have to other people, but they (you guys) should get to know me more- my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. So one of my goals is to be more transparent with my followers and friends that view my social media.