“Let’s go dad, I’m going to be late again,” screamed Taylor across the entire house, waking her siblings and mother.
“Okay, okay I’m hurrying. Here are the keys to start the car and if you want you can drive” stated Taylor’s father as he tosses the keys to her.
Taylor then ran to the car. It is down pouring on this normal/tragic day. She jumps into the driver seat. She first buckles her seatbelt and then sticks the keys into the ignition.  She then starts the car before her father makes it outside. Taylor honks 3 times and by the third one her father finally comes outside. Putting his finger to his lip, suggesting to her to be quiet, he jumps into the car and buckles up. Then she starts to slowly back up out of the drive way. As Taylor and her dad drive in silence Taylor decides it’s time to play some music so she reaches for the cord to plug her phone in. Before she grabs it her father stops her and says, “Give me your phone, I’ll do it. It’s dangerous to be reaching for stuff while driving sweetie.” She passes him the phone and he starts to play one of Taylor’s favorite Song… well it was her favorite song. Soon after this Taylor approaches a stop light that is currently red but quickly turns green. Taylor starts to go into the intersection… then BOOM!
I wake up sweating everywhere and panting. I’ve been having this nightmare almost every night for the past 2 years.  Because 2 years ago my father past away in that car crash.  I haven’t gotten much sleep. Then I realize I am in the doctor’s office waiting room.
“Taylor Johnson” the nurse calls out. I gradually stand up and slowly walk to the door.  “Doctor Allen will be in shortly”. Doctor Allen is my new therapist.
“Hi Taylor, I’m Doctor Allen” as she sits down. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your-self”.
I sit up tall and say, “I am Taylor Johnson. I am about 5’2 tall and I weigh approximately 105 pounds. I am currently 17 years old. So I know what you’re thinking, wow she’s small for her age, I get it okay.  I am blonde as you can tell and I guess I would consider myself attractive, I mean guys think I am so I must be.” 
Doctor Allen is speechless but then says, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself on the inside, your feelings?”
“Well, I’m not really good at that but I guess I can try,” I said as Doctor Allen grabs her notebook and pen. “I would probably say I’m depressed. My father died about 2 years ago in a car crash. I was driving. I miss him a lot. My mom has married a new man and his name is Jim. He brought his kids into our house and I don’t really like them there, they are sort of mean to me.  I mean I already had 4 siblings and now 2 step siblings. The house gets pretty busy so I don’t usually get a lot of attention at home, so I act out a lot. I just wish things could go back to the way they used to be.” 
Doctor Allen sits for a minute trying to take everything in.
“I see, is there anything that makes you happy like any sports or anything?”
“I kind of don’t really enjoy anything” I said in a sad quiet voice.
“How about you tell me things that you don’t like” says Doctor Allen.
“I would say I don't like the grave yard where my father is buried in or I could say, myself. I don't like the things I have done in the past.”
Our conversation continues until Doctor Allen says that our time is up.  I gather my things and then go home.
“Hey mom, I'm home” In a glad to be home voice.
“Hey Honey, how was the therapist? Was it helpful or not?”
“It was good I guess, I just don't know understand why I go.”
As I walk upstairs into my room I turn my radio on loud and grab my journal and start writing.
April 15, 2012
  Dear anyone who comes across my journal today was the start of therapy. I don't want to go. I only go because my mom believes it’s for the best. She doesn't ask how I am doing anymore. She just assumes everything now. I think she's just trying to act strong for all of us when she's just as sad as the rest of us. What my mom doesn't know is that I kept all my dad’s things. She meant to throw away all of it. It was just too painful for her to have. Its hidden away under my bed, all of it. I think keeping his things help me stay connected to him in some way. I hope one day soon my mom will want to talk about all of this. Especially how she could let in another man in so fast.
      - Taylor Johnson
I shut my journal, tuck it away in my dresser and turn off my music. I head downstairs to see what everyone is doing. Currently my brothers are playing Grand Theft Auto. They always have these stupid competitions. I continue to walk to the kitchen where I find my mom reading and my little sister coloring. I try to turn around so I could avoid conversation then…
“Hey Honey” my mom said in a quiet hushed tone.
“Hi” I replied.
“Are you mad?”
“No, I just don't understand why I have to go to therapy when I can talk about with you.”
“Because all you do is mop around here. You need help.”
“No mom, I think you need help. I try talking to you about dad’s death and all you do is ignore it.”
“I have learned to deal with the pain and so now do you,” said Mom.
“Well, then I guess congratulations,” as I storm out of the room and go to my bedroom. I think I am just going to go to bed.
The next day I wake up I have 20 minutes before I have to leave for school. But I can't move, like physically I can’t. My body is ready but mentally and emotionally I'm not ready. It’s like this overwhelming sadness is taking over me. Soon my mom walks in with a shocked look on her face. “Sweetie, oh my goodness, it’s time to leave.” I didn't respond. I just stared at her.       “Honey, get up.” I shake my head indicating no. How can I? My body won’t let me. She yells “fine,” and glares at me and leaves the room.  I don’t think I’m ready for what’s out there.
About four weeks later I’m still in the same spot. I haven’t gotten up except for water, food and bathroom. I think I can finally say I'm really depressed. I’m depressed about my father. I’m depressed because all my mom does to help me is send me away to some therapist, which by the way isn't helping. Well, I guess I wouldn't know. I have only been once. But once was enough to know it sucked.  I mean I don't really enjoy things that much anymore. So maybe I am just super picky. But, I know if I want to get over this I just have to get up and try to move on from all this sadness that is taking over me. I need just get up, get dressed and take a step outside. I need to get over this. I have to do it not only for myself but for my family. I feel as if I'm dragging them down with me. So I swing my legs across the bed and put my two feet on the ground and stand up. I go to my closet and grab some clothes and walk downstairs. I walk to the front door and put my hand on the handle. I go to turn it but I'm afraid. I have no idea if I'm ready, but to be honest I don't know if I will ever be. So I turn the handle and open the door. It’s a very sunny day. I take a step outside. I smell the fresh air and I realize how much I really missed the outdoors. I decide to go for a walk. When I return home I tell my mom that tomorrow I'm going to school. She just looks at me and then smiles.
I wake up the next day and jump out of bed. I realize today is the day I start to move on. I just need to forget the past and just keep looking forward. I get to school after my mom drops me off. I go to the first few classes and then I leave school. I don't really know where I'm going but I just kind of left. Soon, I find myself at the graveyard where my father is buried. I used to go here every day I only came because it gave me closure and that’s all I wanted. The grass is dead and the air is cold. As I walk across the graveyard I can feel the dead people eyes following me which of course makes me feel uncomfortable, but as I slowly approach I say, “Hi Dad.”
I tell him everything that is going on but I think he already knows. I know he wouldn't be proud of me, or so I think. I just talk and talk.  I think I stayed at the graveyard for hours.  The more I talked, the better I felt.  I talked about the day of the accident.  I talked about what has happened since.  I talked about how I feel like everyone has moved on but me.  I cried and cried.  I began to realize that the accident was not my fault and that we can’t stand still in time.  I realized that I need help.  Even though I don’t think that the therapist can help me, maybe she can.  What do I have to lose?  I decide it’s time to go home.
As I walk into the house, I call out for my mom.  “Mom, I think it’s
time that you make me another appointment with Doctor Allen.  I don’t think that I can get better on my own. I want to be happy, I want everyone to be happy,” I said.
“That’s great honey, says Mom. I’ll make you an appointment for tomorrow.”
As I wake up the next day, I feel different.  I feel like today is a new day.  I’m actually looking forward to my appointment with Doctor Allen.  I’m ready to have my life back.  I’m ready to want to be with my friends, with my family.  I’m ready for what’s next. 
“Taylor Johnson” the nurse calls out. Taylor hops up like a bunny and slowly walks to the door.  “Doctor Allen will be in shortly”.