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All Good Things Come to an End

By Faith Branson

I had something else planned for this week’s article, but since it will be my last one I will ever write for Piqua High School and for the best teacher that a student could have, Debbie Allen, I figured why not just go all out with MY feelings and experiences these past 4 years.

High school wasn’t all what I thought it was going to be and looking back now, I wish I would of done things a little differently. I wish I would have taken freshman and sophomore years more seriously. I wish I would have asked questions in class more. I wish I would have gone out of my comfort zone when it came to people, and I wish I wouldn’t have kept things all bundled up inside. I wish I wouldn’t have been so hard on myself, and I wish I would have known that everything will be okay. I wish I didn’t hate myself up until this year.

I’ve had depression all throughout childhood with my parents getting a divorce and my dad never being there for me. Mental illnesses are hard for people to notice, and I was too young to know that someone shouldn’t be sad all the time. My parents never noticed, and I never came to them with these thoughts/feelings until the winter of my junior year when it all got to be too much.

I was walking through the hallways at school and hated them and pretty much everyone in them. It was like going to the worst place imaginable every single day. I was active in cheerleading and Marching Band, but nothing was bringing me out of this slump. I love writing and Newspaper was my favorite class of the day; in newspaper class it was easier to pretend to be happy because I was doing what I love, but it got to the point that I started hating it.

It was around Christmas when the thoughts got worse. I don’t know what triggered them, but I started acting on my thoughts. This kept up until February 2014 when I had my first thought of suicide. I kept quiet and didn’t really think anything of it until I kept getting them. My grades started to drop, and I stopped talking to what used to be my big group of friends (we don’t really talk anymore now). I scared myself, and I decided to tell my mom. She was in the bathroom doing her hair when I walked in, shut the door, and just blurted out that I needed help. My mom, who is basically my everyday hero, understood, she didn’t freak out, and 2 weeks later I had my first therapy session.

After a couple visits with my doctor, I started noticing changes not only in the way I look at things but also in my thinking and pretty soon my family started to notice and my grades came back up. I was learning how to handle and come to terms with the fact that I have depression. I know that I am not alone, and I have real friends who are willing to listen and hear me out.

My therapy sessions stopped abruptly last summer and probably shouldn’t have, but it is what it is. Coming into my senior year I knew I couldn’t let it consume me again. I get to say now that it didn’t. This year I opened up more, started talking to people that I normally wouldn’t and it’s been hard but amazing to see what big changes I’m making in my everyday life. I became the proud leader of the Marching Band by being head Field Commander, and I became Cheer captain. I also enjoy writing again. I survived my senior year but now as I’m getting ready to leave I am noticing all the things I’m going to miss about the place I hated.

I’m going to miss stopping by Mrs. Allen’s room in the morning to print off papers that are due that day, when I have a printer at home (but Mrs. Allen is like another mom to me and we always share a laugh to start off my day right). I’m going to miss the fact that whenever my English teacher Nick Neary gives us a writing assignment the whole class groans, but I just smile; he has also taught me that no matter the situation there will always be something to smile about. I’m going to miss how enthusiastic my Ecology/Genetics teacher Amy Meyers is about science also how no matter what to always remember that, “You are good people!” I’m even going to miss my Math teacher Mr. Wright because even though we always argued, he is a great supporter. I’ll miss my 4 year choir director Tom Westfall who taught me to always be loud and proud. I’m going to miss my psychology teacher Josh Burns who is so understanding that it’s unreal. I’ll miss my Public Relations and Communications teacher Stacy Falcone because she has taught me that if it’s worth it, then fight for it. Also, I will remember my sophomore biology teacher Heath Butler for teaching me to always look for the good in the bad and to try my best to stay positive.

I’ll miss my speech class taught by Mrs. Allen who taught me to get over my fears; she turned a class full of jocks, nerds, artists, writers, and the quiet people into personal friends. I’ll definitely miss my newspaper class where Mrs. Allen taught me that your voice should always be heard or typed, that you need to have Faith in yourself and your abilities, and that no matter how scary life may be you can always escape with a good book or by writing.

These are life lessons that I will carry with me no matter where I should go. As much as I hate it, Piqua High School was a big part of my life that my heart isn’t ready to leave yet, even though my mind is. The teachers have taught me all that they could, and now it’s time to leave. So as I login to the Tomahawk Beat website for the last time to post this article, as I close my locker for the last time tomorrow, and as I walk away with a heavy heart I will be taking so much with me. So thank you, to all the teachers, classes, and students for giving me something that makes saying goodbye so hard. And… that’s a wrap.

“Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”-Peter Pan

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