the first scene it base of the script called The Day THE Music Died
The Day the Music Died
‘No! They make my head fuzzy.’
A savage glare. ‘You’re trying to turn me into a dumb animal!’
I eventually get her to swallow the tablets.
She resents me bitterly: but I’m trying to keep her alive.
The latest bouts of self‐mutilation and suicidal talk caused the psychiatrist to change my daughter’s
medication. She snarls that these pills dull her mind, she can no longer feel the music in her head. For
Jacinta, a talented seventeen‐year‐old, to be unable to compose and perform her own music is living
death.
I leave her bedroom door open. Fifteen minutes later, I hear a child’s voice crying, ‘Mummy’.
She is sobbing bitterly but won’t let me touch her.
‘Mummy, please let me die, please.’
I shudder but manage to sound soothing. ‘You’ll feel better in a few weeks, honey. Just hang in there.’
‘But I wanted to die before and now the music’s gone as well.’
‘Give the tablets time to work. The doctor said you should feel better in about six weeks.’
‘But will my music come back?’
This child who oscillates between three and thirty is too bright to be fooled by baseless promises. ‘I
don’t know, honey, but you won’t have to stay on these tablets forever. Your depression and anxiety
were getting worse, probably because the exams are coming. Just put up with it until they’re over …
maybe you can cut back then.’
I had thought long and hard about withdrawing her from school, but she’s an overachiever; that would
seem the ultimate failure to her. I decide that it would only increase the chance of suicide.
‘What if I can’t?’ A desperate child’s anguished cry. ‘I want to die!’
‘More counselling could help. Perhaps you’d manage on milder tablets then.’
‘Mrs P! She’s fuddy‐duddy, just like you.’
I know the woman isn’t suitable for my hip daughter but our choices are limited. I’m on a pension since
my own breakdown several years ago, and looking for an independent psychologist who would suit
Jacinta is out of the question financially.
the word's highlighted in red is what i will be using in the first scene.
the word's highlighted in yellow is what natalia will be using in the first scene.
the second scene is base of the script called And Then My Tears Subsided....
And Then My Tears Subsided...
“This morning I will get out of bed. This morning I will go to school.
Today I will finish my maths test. I will hand in my English project and during the lunch
break I will socialise with my friends. I will laugh, joke and talk with my friends. I will tell
witty stories about my weekend and before I know it the school day will be over and no
one will know how I am feeling on the inside. Then when I get home I can go back to
bed and not have to pretend for anyone anymore.”
The words above are from a journal entry I wrote on April 20, 2000. At the time I was 14
years old, in Year 9 at High School. I can remember back to the morning of this journal
entry. I barely managed to haul myself out of bed and go to school and when I arrived I
could not contain my tears enough to enter the classroom. I walked back out through
the front gate less than half an hour after I had walked in.
Experiencing clinical depression throughout my adolescence was at times quite
gruelling. I think back to my high school years and I can almost feel the memories of the
confusion and the frustration of my dark times. The times of not being able to stop
crying for days. The moments I felt pain so intensely I thought it would never subside.
My appetite fluctuations, the anxiety and the irritability. The almost permanent fatigue
which I felt would never lift because I could rarely sleep through the night. I felt empty
and numb and alone. I went through phases of indecisiveness, which annoyed my
friends almost as much as it annoyed me. I felt paranoid and guilty and my mood would
change in what felt like only seconds. Then there were the feelings that made me
believe suicide would solve all my problems.
When I remember back to this time in my life sometimes I wonder how I made it
through, how I am still here today. Then, at other times I don't have to think for very long
about what helped me and why I am still here. There were many different people and
many different things which helped me through these years.
For a long time I did not talk to anyone about how I was feeling. I was incredibly
confused and did not know that other people felt much the same way as I did. I thought
something was wrong with me and I felt like I should make myself 'normal' again. This
was probably the worst thing I tried to do. I was 13 years old, I had never heard
validation of any mental illness, I only knew that 'crazy people' were locked away.
Around this time the internet was just becoming available for public use. I was able to
connect at school sometimes and this was where I could anonymously research what
was 'wrong' with me.
Through research on the internet and books I would read in the corners of public
libraries, I learned that depression was a real illness, affecting many more people than
just me. This brought me a huge amount of comfort – just as reading stories of others
living with depression did. It was around this time I felt empowered enough to try and
change how I was feeling. I researched every alternative therapy to that of medication
No comments:
Post a Comment