Shattered
Reid says;
Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?
~Maurice Freehill
CHAPTER ONE
Depression distorts your thinking. When you are depressed, your mind can play tricks on you.
He recited the fact over and over again in his head, as though he was reading it straight from the encyclopedia. His mind edged away from sanity bit by bit, slowly pushing him into the darkness he knew once a long time ago. Memories engulfed him, of his youth, of his teenage years, of now in his early adulthood. He felt his shoulders slightly bend down, weight crushing his back towards the earths ground. He cradled his head in his hands, taking deep long breaths.
Difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions
Fatigue and decreased energy
Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and/or helplessness
Feelings of hopelessness and/or pessimism
Insomnia, early-morning wakefulness, or excessive sleeping
Irritability, restlessness
Loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable, including sex
Overeating or appetite loss
Persistent aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems that do not ease even with treatment
Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" feelings
Thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts
He rubbed his face with his long tanned fingers, taking in now shaky breaths as he recalled the event that brought him to his knees. What was it that made him this way? Pressure at work-
54% of Americans are concerned about the level of stress in their everyday lives, with thirty percent considering their stress levels as "extreme"
62% of Americans hold work as having a significant impact on stress levels.
52% of workers consider work more stressful than home
66% of American adults suffer from stress induced chronic health condition
Maybe it was genetics, reason why he felt like this. His family history maybe to blame.
A family history of depression points to a greater likelihood of developing depression. But just because there is no family history does not automatically mean you will never experience depression; it can show up in anyone
Perhaps it was his memories? The bad ones that plagued him so bad it made him sick-
Chronic or life-long (endogenous) depression is caused by trauma in childhood which includes: emotional, physical or sexual abuse; yelling or threats of abuse; neglect (even two parents working); criticism; inappropriate or unclear expectations; maternal separation; conflict in the family; divorce; family addiction; violence in the family, neighborhood or TV; racism and poverty.
And his new family. How did they accept him? He was outcasted for his eidetic memory, tortured by his peers for knowing so much at too young an age. His friends, they were his family, his everything. He couldn't live knowing if any of them were in trouble. He wouldn't be able to grasp onto reality anymore. He took in a deep breath in a sudden comfort, knowing his friends weren't the ones who were captured; none of them were taken and tied to a chair and tortured. Memories flooded through him, memories of Henkel, memories of him being strapped to a chair, beaten ruthlessly where he died. Then only was he resuscitated back and brought to hell again. He needed help, he knew it. No one walks back from torture left unscathed. But he sure as hell acted like he was okay as best as he could.
Bringing up his razor, the neat blue handle that fit in his hand, it's silver blades glistening. The past brought pain, the past brought back the torture he didn't want. It brought back...
Deep red gashes covered his arms, lacing up onto his forearms. He was careful not to hit any vitals, careful to not hit where he would bleed to much and wouldn't be able to cover it up. He stared at his bleeding arm, watching as unsteady blood droplets course down tan skin, thrown onto the white tiles of his bathroom. Pitter patter like rain against the window echoed from his life spilling onto the floor, a soft symphony of relief flooding his veins. The weight crushing his back lifted slightly, focusing on the trauma on his arm. He took in a deep breath of air before the weight slowly drifted onto his shoulders again, and he was slowly bending to the earth. He grabbed a red cloth from his sink-a cloth he used whenever he cut for the point that it was red and wasn't to noticeable if some crimson got on it-and wiped up the floor, flopping the cloth back onto the pearl white sink. He sat up, grabbing the stained razor and numbly washed it off, placing it within his soap dish that was located above his white bath tub. He grimaced at the purity of the color-
Brides wear white to symbolize innocence and purity. White reflects light and is considered a summer color. White is popular in decorating and in fashion because it is light, neutral, and goes with everything. However, white shows dirt and is therefore more difficult to keep clean than other colors. Doctors and nurses wear white to imply sterility.
vowing silently that one day he'll add some more color-preferably red or purple. He looked himself in the mirror, looking over scary gaunt eyes, little brown coloring dazzling the middle of them. Skinny boney cheeks stretched his thin skin, his bones looking more prominent. Reid backed up as realization slapped his face.
Depression may also accompany an eating disorder. In Heinberg's practice at the Cleveland Clinic, patients with anorexia nervosa are often depressed.
He was getting the symptoms, no. No he wasn't. He shook his head, he didn't have depression. No, he just felt sad. Yes, that's what it is. He just felt sad for a little bit and needed release, so this was a good thing. He was doing good.
The Greeks attributed depression to an overabundance of black bile in the body, and mania to yellow bile. They believed bleeding or purging helped the system regain balance.
Staring at the skin and bones that became him, he forced a smile onto his lips. He had to go on living as though nothing ever happened. He had to act as if everything's okay. It was the only way, the only way he was going to keep on living and hold on to that small shred of sanity. He had to brace himself for happiness, act as if he was. He must keep smiling. So with a wave of guilt clashing in his chest, he cleaned off his arm and wandered into his beige colored living room, flopping down on his black leather sofa seated before a small television. All around his room books were stacked knee high, his shelves filled to the top with leather bound worlds. Reid felt his body boil over with sudden heat, trying to melt the thick chunk of ice that had become his heart. But there was no way, and the heat only ended up hurting him, burning his already bruised veins and making his movements suddenly spazzy.
The young profiler curled up on his couch, curling into a ball and staring at his white carpeted ground. Simply staring, he found no sleep or peace whatsoever. He could escape this world if only he could sleep, if only he could drift into a peaceful slumber that wasn't filled with terrors or demons. It would be of soft things like clouds and miles of long grass. But, in his state came this pathetic insomnia that numbed his eye lids and kept the monster within awake.