Life in Haiti after that began to feel a bit redundant and mundane. Every morning, I would walk to work, sit through the morning prayer meeting, sit at the computer in the library all day, and then Alain would pick me up for dinner at his house. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
We would still go out for nightlife, but even that started to feel the same. It was a rotation of the same five restaurants and bars, all with the same people telling the same gossip. I never felt like I fit in with these crowds. I began having panic attacks before every dinner party. I never seemed to be able to hold my silverware correctly or know the correct amount of kisses to give whoever I was greeting.
I began to feel depression creeping in, like a monster hiding in the closet that just wasn’t ready to jump out yet—until the day that it hit me in the face.
I remember my first suicidal thought very clearly.
Alain and I were driving through downtown Port-au-Prince on the way to pick up a friend of his parents' at the airport. We were driving through a busy intersection—Alain was driving, and I was in the passenger seat. I saw a car coming from the intersection, speeding straight towards us. It was only a split second, but I remember wishing so desperately that the car would hit us. I remember thinking that it would feel good. If the car could just hit us, maybe I could feel a rush of something—anything. Or maybe it would be a way out of this redundant nightmare. Alain swerved out of the way, and I remember feeling disappointed that I had to go on with life. That’s when I knew something was wrong.
That was 7 years ago and I still replay this scenario in my head on repeat, like a blurry movie, the first time I wished to die.
The next day at work, I told S about how miserable I had been feeling, and she said, "Chels, what are you doing here? You are in your early 20s. You should be out exploring the world and living your life—not sitting in this library all day, every day, and going home to a house you don’t feel comfortable in, and to a guy you don’t even really like, preparing for a life that sounds like a nightmare to you."
I knew she was right, but I didn’t know how to leave. The first step I took was to start applying for other jobs. I ended up finding an online job at a virtual assistant company, and a part-time job two days a week at a leather fashion company that I was obsessed with in Haiti, called Haiti Design Co. I also convinced my boss at the school that I could manage their marketing from home. So, three days a week, I worked from home in the garden, and two days a week, I would go downtown to this fashion company and help give mission groups a tour of their leather factory.
And then I met Bethany.
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