The Greeks had a myth about Sisyphus, a man doomed to an eternity of pushing a rock up hill. Every time he would get to the top, the rock would roll back down thus beginning his journey again. My life can be embodied in this one story. For many years, I have struggled to find happiness, slowly losing it to what seemed like a lifetime of chaos. I questioned how this could possibly be true. How could a life so extraordinary turn itself on me, only to leave me in a bout of depression? I sought after the answer for years, beginning at the age of 12, when depression became a word I grew all too familiar. The fight for happiness continued throughout high school, with an answer always out of my grasp. Finding happiness has always been a challenge for me. Much like Sisyphus, my journey began with a single hill. I sat on the hilltop and looked down across the vast, empty field. I thought of the pounding at the door that had occurred at 11:30 the previous night. The lingering echo of steel toed boots across the dining room floor shook me from my pensive state and began my excursion. Rolling down a hill may seem childish, but I believe it gave …show more content…
Mental health has been a demon that seems to control my family. The faster I rolled, the further the occurrences of the night seemed to be pushed away. No matter how hard I tried to stop rolling, I could not. Only after these thoughts escaped my presence did I understand that my life was a process of me rolling down a hill. Each new second of my life sends me plummeting down a hill. I can not prevent bad things from happening in my life; however, these things do not need to last a lifetime. The time between the police showing up and pulling away only lasted a few minutes. Within those minutes my life had flipped upside down, but at the same time I was already rolling back over towards a new