Gina-Marie Cheeseman

Reaching for More

I was 17 years old and desperately depressed and wracked with anxiety. It’s a way I remembered feeling as far back as three years old when my mother put me down for a nap and was too full of anxiety to sleep. I would play with my toys as soon as she walked out of the room. As a teenager, the depression and anxiety born out of my uncle’s sexual abuse of me became darker, scarier, and all-encompassing.