I have made it no secret that I hate my town. I hate how small it is. I hate how far away my parents live. I hate what the community stands for. I have complained about that often. And once I returned from the city this summer, I knew that I desperately needed out of this place. I was looking for teaching jobs for next year in September. I prayed to God and asked Him to help me tolerate this town until May. I never asked to like this place. I only wanted to get through the school year. Then, I would pack up my things and never look back.
However, God took my prayer to another level. The other day when I nearly passed out at school, my teacher friend insisted on taking me to the doctor. That is how I ended up revealing that I have anxiety and depression. I told her that I have had thoughts of suicide and am a former cutter (nine months clean!).
Something in me changed that day. Maybe it was because I have never admitted my problems to anyone. And knowing that someone actually cared changed me. It made me realize that this community is good for someone. Even though I seriously doubt I could tell anyone else here my problems, at least I have a friend that cares. And I have my doubts that I would find that kind of friend anywhere else. At least in this small town, my friend knows I am all alone and gone out of her way to be my friend.
When I prayed to God asking Him to help me tolerate this town, I never imagined changing my opinion and actually sort of liking the community.