by S. Maddison Crawford

Created on: July 28, 2010

 “This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one... The being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”   — George Bernard Shaw

 THE WILL TO LIVE: On Living Happily Ever After

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was very happy. When she opened her eyes in the morning, it was the best moment of that day. She knew there were so many things in store for her, but she didn't know what. It was the not knowing that she loved. Her eyes saw beautiful things, her mind was endlessly curious, and each new day brought adventure. Sometimes, her sister would bug her or mommy was upset with something, but those were short-lived moments of tiptoeing around trouble. The world was a wonderful exciting place and she wanted to see, smell, touch, taste and DO everything.  She's a good girl, does what she's told and everyone says she has a bright future ahead.

Time passes, and twenty years later she has signed herself into a hospital psychiatric ward. A decade ago, her depressed mother killed herself with alcohol and pills - never able to find what she needed. And a few months ago, her big sister killed herself too, childhood molestation, hating herself and a life of alcohol taking their toll. The girl, now a woman, has been unhappy for years, bullied, abused, believing there is something wrong with her; she believes she's not like normal people. She has tried so hard to fit what everyone wanted her to be, but it always feels like she's wearing shoes that are too small for her feet. It hurts to be somebody else. And so she has become someone who would be happy if a truck ran her over as she crossed the street. The doctor calls it passively suicidal. She waits for them to fix her, tell her what's WRONG with her, but all they do is more tests.  They must know what's best for her, right?

Two weeks, she has been in there and nothing is fixed. She is taking medication, but the sad thoughts still circle her brain. The pills help her sleep, but when she wakes up, her brain won't turn off. She goes over and over the same thoughts: what if's, why not's, hows, wishing, and yesterdays, today and tomorrows. The nurses have moved her twice now to wards, where a crazy lady tries to climb into her bed, thinking it's her own, and wakes her up. She has been in semi-private

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