I am a junior in high school and an aspiring writer. I love video games, reading, cooking (and eating) , volunteering, playing the guitar, and of course writing! That's all there is to it, really cx
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Written By: Mallorie Cheves
August 10, 2014
On Mother's Day of May 9th, 1999, although my mother struggled immensely (compared to my two older sisters) she managed to give birth to Mallorie Christine Cheves (your's truly.) No doubt that under all of those shrieks I managed to bellow throughout the room once I was born, I would have never imagined myself as I am today. My name's meaning is translated to "unlucky," and it couldn't be more inaccurate.
My parents divorced when I was three, so even though I never became attached to my father at a young age, he became and continues to be an inspiration in my life. Throughout the years of elementary school I was the popular girl who could easily befriend anyone she set her mind to. I was outgoing and happy; I climbed trees to the highest branch, I sang songs on my Bratz novelty microphone, I constantly read fairy tales and wrote about a princess with superhero powers that fought crime with her prince. In other words, I was a creative happy-go-lucky child who appreciated anything and everything given to her.
When my parents got back together and moved us all to Florida, my childhood colors were extracted and I could only see pain. For a ten going on eleven-year-old, I was not ready for depression and I did everything in my power to fight it off. I distracted myself long enough until sixth grade when I befriended most of the people I still talk to to this day. I was invited to sleepovers, parties, movie nights, water parks, the beach, you name it. I realized that popularity meant nothing and the quality, rather than quantity, was more important to begin with. I felt happiness again, and if this is even possible, I smiled enough to create dimples. I never had them until eighth grade when everything seemed to be going great. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.
Our family was moved to Michigan and at first I tried to look at the positives. I get a fresh new start where no one knows how awkward I used to be, I can decorate my new room however I want, I can experience winter for the first time and become friends with teens my age, and I'm in the same time zone as my friends in Florida so communication wouldn't be much of an issue. Much like a bride on her wedding day, I got cold feet and realized that I wasn't ready to leave all of my friends, my school, and the warm weather. Fortunately, I was able to live with one of my friends, and her entire family felt like a second family to me. Although I was separated from my parents and sisters for about three months, her family was there to comfort and support me the entire time, and I'm still grateful for the extra three months I was able to spend with my best friend, and the memories it came with.
Once I was reunited with my family in Michigan, the depression hit harder than I had ever felt it. It was nice to be able to hug my mother and hear her comforting voice say "Everything will be okay," but I couldn't distract myself from these thoughts this time, it was too intense. I knew that summer was slipping away from my fingers and I would soon experience a bitter winter that would get tiresome after a month, but I was too busy attempting to reach out to my friends; most of them have yet to respond.
My timing moving here was absolutely perfect because I happened to have experienced the "worst winter in decades," as my first winter. The snow didn't completely melt until the end of April, and throughout the four months of temperatures below zero and hills of snow, Michigan gave me plenty of reasons to be homesick. I felt as though the winter would never end; I would be enclosed into a snow globe while the rest of my friends paraded themselves in bikinis and pranced on the pale sand of Siesta Key. The winter froze my emotions and I felt empty.
On April 9th, 2014, any depression I had ever felt during the winter disappeared. Nothing significant occurred, in fact my mom was driving my older sister and I to the grocery store. I was lying my face onto the cold window, and the temperature outside was 36. The sky was cloudless and the sun shone on the windows of my mom's Aztec. I still remember the feeling of the beam of light radiating on my cheek. I haven't felt genuine warmth in four months. It was beyond exhilarating, the single beam of sun light positioned perfectly on my face. I began crying and when my mom and sister asked what was wrong, all I could manage to say was, "I'm okay, the sun is out." To this day nothing as extraordinary as flying to moon could compare to the ten seconds of warmth I felt on April 9th. At that point, I knew that I wasn't trapped. This entire time I was free - this entire time I was blessed.
Although most of my writing is contrary to how my name meaning, "unlucky," is inaccurate, I know that I am blessed. I'm with my family, I've lived more places than the majority of my friends, I can visualize things from both perspectives and empathize with those who have been as depressed as I once was. I admit, I still get down from time to time knowing that I'm being forgotten in Florida, but in all honesty I've been given a gift I would have never been able to acquire if I stayed in Florida. I feel incredibly lucky, and will never think any differently, no matter how much the world seems against me.
This is a completely opinionated post and since it's a free write I thought I should express my feelings the best way I see fit - in my writing.