Deprivation In High School

The first time I fell asleep in class was during a math lecture in middle school. With the warm ambience and lights dimmed, the room felt dream-like to sit in, and quickly tempted me into a true dreaming state. That first slip of consciousness marked the beginning of an arduous journey though, and for the following six years, the time I spent asleep threatened to overwhelm my few remaining waking hours.
My sleeping problem peaked in my last year of high school though, when nothing in my personal arsenal was enough to combat 18-20 hours of sleep every day. Friends stopped asking me to go out, my grades collapsed, and I felt as though disappointment stared down at me from all directions. Every achievement I had worked for fell obsolete as people questioned whether I could even graduate from high school. To cope with my shame, I slept even more.
Yet even with my life spiraling out of control, I refused any assistance. Sleeping had always been another challenge for me, and to ask for help was to admit defeat. Thankfully, my family intervened anyway,
As it turns out, life is not a solo mission, and working with other people makes an immense difference. That lesson proved itself again when I resumed my education at community college, and discovered a new level of insight interacting with my peers and professors. Many of them had stories similar to mine: struggles that highlighted the importance of support. I was not unique in that sense, and could no longer see people the same way.
Some say those with the darkest pasts are also among the most compassionate, and while I may not be the next Mother Teresa, depression was a humbling experience that helped me connect with other people. Everyone has faced hardships, and we would all be fools to seclude ourselves. It reminds me that as a community we must help others as we have been helped ourselves, so that nobody may get left