Chains

Chains. We all have them. Each and everyone of us has or has had something at some point that bound us and kept us from joy. This week I've been reminded over and over again how important it is to remember that joy and gratitude can overcome a multitude of fear. That has never been an easy concept for me, and I feel I will grapple with it forever. When we hit a low it is so easy to be engulfed in the dark that we tend to forget about the things that we have to be grateful for. 

This week was a difficult one for me on a very personal level. I made a decision long ago that had finally caught up with me and instead of facing it head on I tried to avoid it. Doing so only filled me with immense feelings of guilt and shame, and when I feel that overwhelming guilt and shame I am incredibly tempted to punish myself in some way. I slid backwards this week, and I'm not proud, but I learned some things along the way that I think are important.

Isolation is never a healthy way to deal with the hardships life throws at you. My punishment was to completely isolate myself from people that I convinced myself didn't want me around anyway. This was so far from the truth. When I finally allowed myself to open up to these people who have shown time and time again that they care for me, I realized I had the blessing of being surrounded by people I could be 100% real with. Our conversations were filled with raw emotion, and they reminded me that I have things to be grateful for even in the midst of my mistakes.

I have chains. Sometimes I feel like they're broken and disappear, and other times I feel like they have a way of finding their way back and coiling around my wrists. Y'all. Those are some of the loneliest times where I wish I could call for help, but also manage to feel stifled. Some of you know that last year was very difficult for me and I had a hard time pinpointing why. Things were unclear constantly and my moods were a roller coaster. People were worried, I isolated myself like I'm so good at. I was selfish with my time and my entire life spun out of control. I screamed for help, but was never able to communicate clearly exactly what I needed. I was in the dark and I started to let it consume my soul. Even though I was surrounded by so many people supporting me, it was one of the loneliest times in my life. 

When I had that difficult moment this week it scared me. But as I talked it out it got better. I heard a sermon today that solidified the new attitude I'm trying to adopt when it comes to dealing with my chains. I will continue to look for joy in the midst of my storms. I will use what I struggle with to show others the live I've been shown. I am stronger than I feel, and one bad day cannot and will not define me.

Part of our problem, I think, is the internal scars we try to push out of our minds. Old wounds have found a way of trying to come back. It aches. I try everything I can to make it go away. My past so often fills me with shame when those wounds try to resurface. My rape, depression, pushing my support away, the terrible thoughts I have had about myself. I let the memories and hurt and shame reconsume me. But no more. I refuse to let that set me back ever again. The past is the past and I am who I am because of it.

I write this not because I'm upset, but because I have realized that daily I need to start choosing joy to break free from my chains. I know there are others out there right now dealing with guilt, shame, a past and I tell you friends, it is going to be ok. You are loved, scars and all. The world wouldn't be quite the same without you and what you bring to it. You are more than your past. You are more than your guilt. You are more than your shame. 

Choose joy, sweet friends. Today let's all choose joy and remember what we can be grateful for. 

Limits

Limits.

We all have them, and sometimes we like to test them.

I'm learning right now that my limits need to be fine tuned and don't always match up with what I think I can tolerate. I've always had a larger than life attitude, and in turn have ignored limits. A girl like me doesn't have limits, right? Wrong. The past few months have brought so much change, struggle, and the knowledge that I have (and need to possess) limitations.

Having a "go, go, go" personality makes it really hard to place limits on yourself. I have a need to be in constant motion. So much so that I forget that I also need rest. There was a week during Christmas break where I scheduled something every day of the week. There was no break, there was no time to rest. Know what the outcome was? I had a complete mental breakdown. There were tears and frustration. My mom had to come stay with me. I was a complete mess. All because I didn't give myself a chance to rest. Dedicating a day out of my weekend where I don't feel obligated to get out of the house and do something is really hard for me, yet has become a necessity.  Sleeping 8+ hours a night is a feat I am trying to concur. More than 6 hours a night used to be pushing it, and I'm now realizing in order to function like a normal human being I need to force myself to sleep more. My body craves rest, yet my brain screams that I have to do more. I have physical limits. I need to start listening to what I need in order to thrive.

Emotional limits are also a thing. I've realized lately that I need to start drawing out some emotional boundaries. I am the type of person who hears the troubles and torment of another and will cry along with them. I will take on your emotional pain as if it were my own. Obsess over it. Pray over it. I'll even live it to a point. I learned the hard way that I cannot take on everyone else's emotional baggage.   I can still pray for you, I can still love you through your storms, but I have to build those boundaries too.  This lesson was learned the hard way when I let someone else's feelings dictate the kind of day I was going to have.  This person was so upset about something happening in their life and was telling me all about it while I listened intently trying to figure out how to help. I obsessed over this dilemma. I thought about it ceaselessly. It got to a point where I lost an entire day over this problem, only to have this friend figure it out for themselves in the meantime. I had become so transfixed on their problem that I couldn't see that it was turning into my problem when it never should have. There is no reason I couldn't walk alongside that person, but taking on their every emotion only turned me into a mess and made it impossible for me to be a help to anybody. You can't love other people well when you're spending 24 hours obsessing over how terrible their problem is.

I have never been one to have boundaries. I don't like building walls. I hate saying 'no'. Fortunately, though, I'm learning this lesson while I'm still young. I need to have boundaries. I need to limit myself.  It's ok to start saying no to opportunities. It's ok to start saying no to people. It's ok to say no to making plans, to taking on emotional baggage, and to exerting energy when my body is screaming at me to stop.  I cannot be the type of person I long to be if I can't start to learn that I have limits. I want to do my job well, I want to love the people around me well.  I want to be strong, and full of joy. The only way to do those things is with limits.

Limits don't have to be a negative thing. Boundaries are going.

Recognizing that you have limits is the healthiest thing you can do.

The Struggle of Being a Cooped Up Extrovert

First let me explain the new blog title. I am a hot mess. I embrace it, I laugh at it, I label myself as such. And that's ok. I also think my life is beautiful. A mess, but a beautiful mess. I don't want to call this blog Tales of a Survivor anymore, because I don't want to keep living in the shadow of my rape. I still deal with it, but for the most part it's in my past. I don't want to keep blogging only from a survivor perspective. I want to write about things that help you to see just ME for who I am on a daily basis. Sometimes I will post about my assault, because writing is therapeutic. But for now I'm moving slightly away from that.
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So let me get in to why I am writing tonight. Raise your hand if you're an extrovert that also needs rest, but hates being away from people, but needs a break from people, but doesn't want to be alone!  Just me? Once again, the cheese stands alone.  Y'all the struggle is so real on this very long, but much needed snow day.

First thing's first, I really needed this snow day yesterday when I was battling a stomach bug for the second time in less than a week. Who does that even happen to!? But of course it was perfect weather, and schools were still open. One day stuck in the house and in bed is one thing. It was great. I slept all day and watched Disney movies. It was the dream life. Today we have a snow day...ok, cool. Last year when I had snow days it wasn't terrible outside so I could go out to different places or at least walk around and be fine.  NOT TODAY! I watched out my bedroom window as cars slid down my unplowed, unsalted side road and thought, "this can't be good". I thought I could confine myself to my apartment, but an extrovert can only nap and watch movies for so long. I knew I wasn't going to be able to handle it two days in a row. I got up and thought I could at least take a walk. It wasn't sleeting at this point, so I should have been good to go, right?! Wrong. I had to take my trash to the dumpster first. Besides nearly dying walking down the steps outside that were coated in ice, my car slid everywhere on the extremely short trip to the next set of buildings where they hide the trash. That is when the reality of being stuck inside all day truly struck me and I panicked.

I have done everything a person can do. I binge-watched Netflix, I cleaned the apartment, played with the kitten, reorganized my bedroom, cooked everything I could think of and promptly put it all in the fridge because I'm afraid to eat anything other than crackers, read for a couple of hours. And I'm still BORED OUT OF MY MIND. I am crawling out of my skin. I crave human interaction, people! I love snow days and I am so thankful I didn't have to go to work today. But from now on I'm going to be a little more specific in my snow day prayers.  They're going to sound a lot like "Lord, please let it snow so that I don't have to work. But don't make it snow too much because I still want my friends to come over and eat Chipotle and watch movies. I just don't want to work. But I still want people. Thank you Amen."

Think it'll work? Am I being too picky? I love my snow days, but I do terribly on my own. Some of you will remember the great Twitter-fest of 2014 during the February ice storms we had. I tweeted about every crazy thought I had including a stinkbug I found, what I would do if I had a pet kangaroo, and my thoughts on how and why butter was invented. I do best when I am allowed to be near people. Not even having to do or say anything, just someone else's presence can make me feel completely calm.  I often wonder why God wired me like that, because it makes some days and experiences really frustrating and difficult.

I am the type of person that constantly craves human interaction, but needs her space, alone time, and rest. It's so strange to me to need all of those things and so desperately want them all at the exact same time.  It's impossible to rest and have alone time surrounded by people, yet in a perfect dream world that's exactly what I would be able to do. If anyone can figure out how that's possible, let me know.

Right now I am so tempted to just run to the house next door (or, rather, slide to the house next door) and ask to be friends so I have people to hang out with instead of being cooped up and unable to go anywhere. Anyone who has heard me complain about those neighbors knows that is a completely desperate thought.

How do you extroverts deal with going stir crazy!?

Depression Part II

There is one thing in the world that has the ability to absolutely get under my skin like an unwanted bug, and that thing is ignorance regarding depression. The inspiration for this post was a conversation I overheard in the doctor's office today.  The following statement is one I have heard thousands of times...

"She has nothing to be depressed about."

Folks, no one chooses depression. Depression is an illness.  An illness like any other that you would treat medically. Do people choose to have heart attacks? Do they choose to have cancer? Diabetes? Thyroid problems? No. And none of us chooses to have a mental illness either.

I've always struggled with that term 'mental illness'.  I think part of the issue is that when I have to explain that I've dealt with mental illness, I immediately brace myself to be judged and ridiculed.  Think about what you hear on the news when there's a shooting or some type of local terror act...you often hear that they suffered from mental illness.  I think we are all guilty of associating mental illness with bad people and believing that "good" people cannot suffer from the same conditions. I myself am guilty of that thought sometimes.  It isn't true, though.  Battling a mental illness doesn't make you a bad person.  Not getting help and making poor choices might lead you toward being a "bad" person, but we have to stop labeling mental illness as bad when that isn't always true.

Depression is debilitating.  It really is.  There are days that I've battled depression where I couldn't peel myself off of my bed. It was like I was glued, trapped, and helpless. There have been days where I have felt completely hopeless before. There are days I thought God had abandoned me, that He wasn't in the midst of it all trying to coax me through it.  There were days during my depression where I didn't want to keep breathing and dealing with life. I would rather sleep. Sometimes I wished I could sleep through my entire life.  It was awful. It isn't a good feeling.

People who love you will try to help and become frustrated.  You'll be frustrated. You'll be frustrated with them for being frustrated with you, and they'll be frustrated with you for being frustrated with them. It's a vicious cycle.  Depression is a time that I always figured out the people in my life who were my true support system. That's the time I found out how loved I am.  It's also the time I found out who my real friends were and weren't.  There were times my support system said and did the wrong things and I would fall deeper into a pit of emotional pain.  There are times they would say and do the right thing and I would pull back out of it for a time. It's complicated, and beautiful, and frustrating, and awful all at the same time.

It's funny, sometimes, how we are finally able to pull out of our depression. One time it was during an intense game of Pretty Pretty Princess my senior year of college (if you don't know what that is, it's a board game I loved as a kid where you collect and wear all of the princess jewelry...the college version was high stakes: loser had to vacuum the entire apartment).  Another time I was laying in bed crying and I saw a stink bug climbing up the wall. The gross little bug kept falling and I remember just sitting there cackling.  There really wasn't anything funny about it now that I look back, but at the time it's exactly what I needed.

Just because good things happen to you, doesn't mean you can't suffer from depression. It almost turns you into a different person and you have to fight back hard.  There are days it will be the most difficult battle of your life.  Depression isn't about being sad. It's about being unable to live your life. It's about not knowing how to cope with your everyday life. I've had friends come over and clean my apartment, do my dishes, take out my trash, etc. because I had gone so long without being able to get out of my bed.

Next time you hear that someone you love is battling depression, let's try loving them instead of judging them.

Perfect Chaos

I glance around the apartment and all I see is chaos.

Half finished projects surround me and I have absolutely no desire to continue them. The love seat is covered with clothes I washed over a week ago. By now those clothes are wrinkled and I simply don't care.  My garbage hasn't been taken out in a week. Dishes still sit in the sink. Socks and hoodies lay on the floor wherever I happened to strip them off after a tiring day. Shoes are stacked haphazardly by the front door, waiting to trip the next person who dares enter. My rug is strewn with leaves tracked in from the parking lot. My winter clothes and summer clothes lay halfway between the suitcases I will pack some of them away in, and the dresser some of them need to be unpacked into. My bathroom resembles the makeup aisle of CVS if there happened to be an explosion. And I perch on the couch taking it all in, not really caring.

Honestly, my apartment is in chaos.

Even worse is my life is in chaos.

The past few months have been a swirl of anxiety, changes, and a roller coaster of emotions. I've struggled to try and take broken pieces and fit them into spaces where they don't belong. My life has been a mess.

This sense of brokenness has taken a negative toll for quite some time. I've started questioning some days if I truly matter in this world. Many days I can answer that question with a quick and sincere yes. Other days I grapple with that question, and those tough days are the ones I remember the most. Irrational thoughts creep in some days, and scare me. I fear a lot. I don't want to fear. I want life back to normal, and to be able to feel a sense of gratitude throughout the entirety of my day.

My brokenness has also managed to bring positives into my life. When I try to fit those broken pieces back together, I am reminded that I serve a God who will always make me whole again. I am reminded that I do matter. I am constantly surrounded by people who love me, and/or appreciate the role I play in their lives. I am reminded that compassion still exists in our world every time I seek help in the middle of a tough season.   I am loved.

Though this current path has been filled with obstacles, it also has brought so many lessons and joy. Things to be thankful for.

For the first time ever I am grateful for my struggle. It isn't easy, but I have learned more about my strength during this time than I ever have before.

I know myself, and I know I will persevere.

Though my life is chaos, it is perfect in its own funny way.

Grief, Guilt, and the Sting of Fall Breezes

It is incredible to me how simple memories trigger so many emotions. Every season of the year seems to bring different memories I would rather forget, and autumn is no exception.

As the first bitter breeze nips my cheeks, I begin to recall all of the events of my past right after I was raped.  This past weekend (even today and beyond) stirred up a lot of things for me.

As I felt that first chill I was transported back to the bathroom floor of my first apartment, sobbing, scheming, wondering what my next steps were. I was so weak when everyone was rooting for me to be strong. Though I tried to play it off like I was an adult who had her life together, I was still just a kid. Just 21. Navigating life is difficult as is, but now I have to go through THIS? I remember curling up on that tile wishing he had never laid eyes on me. Wishing he had never touched me. Wishing I had never made some of the mistakes I felt I had made. For the first time, however, I was also brought back to the moment where a friend's encouraging words changed the vision I had for myself that night. I was reminded of the hugs, the tears, the chocolate, the trashy reality television. I was reminded of the love I was so freely shown, that I was hesitant to so freely receive.

I remember not wanting to love myself.

The guilt I felt swallowed me whole. Grief gripped her spindly, cold fingers around my neck and choked me until I could no longer scream for help. I could hear his words echoing in my head. Grief taught me to use those as an attack. "You're beautiful", he echoed. "You're disgusting", she convinced me.

Grief would sneak up behind and whisper into my ear, "You're not worthy, you are ruined. You are weak."

She can be convincing.

If you try to suppress her long enough, she will fight her way out larger than life ready to fight and make you feel like a loser.

It's sad, but all 21 year old Kayleigh wanted were people to love her.

All she wanted were people who would recognize her silent screams for help.

And yet, when those people entered, she pushed them away.

I remember the harassment I experienced at school and the dread I felt every time I had to leave my house. My once bubbly exterior quickly dissolved. I folded into myself. I tried to hide between fake smiles and half-hearted laughter.

My world was crumbling around me.

I remember the smell of burning leaves, the crisp November air, and the hope that finally began to spark somewhere deep within my soul. And those are the memories that make me smile.

Those are the memories that shoo away grief, and tell her that she isn't welcome right now.

For the first time my fall memories aren't only dark. I am reminded of the kindness of others, the times I was finally able to trust again and the people who stuck around.

Grief is trying to creep her way back in lately, and honestly maybe I need to entertain her for a little while. She can be a necessary companion for a short amount of time. Sometimes she allows us to deal with things we would rather sweep under the rug.

With this season bringing so many memories, I realize that I haven't fully dealt with certain things. Maybe some of those things will never fully be dealt with. Grief is bringing her friends doubt and guilt with her.

In reality I know I shouldn't feel guilty. It wasn't my fault. I can't change the past.
Yet I feel tinges of it every once in a while.

Sometimes I still doubt myself and my worth based on the choices I've made in the past.
But I know that my worth is not based on what I do.

And constantly I worry about what my future will hold. I've felt older these past few months and I catch myself wondering if I'll have the life I always wanted. Lately it hasn't felt like it. But then I remember all of the amazing things I've gained as an adult, and I don't worry as much.

The past month has been rocky. But somehow this time is different.

Somehow I know things are going to be ok.

Simple Joy

Simple things bring joy to my heart.

A baby's giggle, the bright colors of a firework, the hug of a good friend, a fresh cup of coffee.

So often I don't take the time to slow down and appreciate those simple things. So often I place too much value on the "big" things in life, typically things that cause me stress. I whine, I cry, I worry. Money is always in short supply. Rejection will always hurt.  Imagine what could happen if I could ignore the things that hurt, and embraced the things that actually bring joy to my life.

Unfortunately, I don't believe that any of us can truly ignore the stresses and upsets in our lives, but we can place less value on those things.

I was reminded this week several times how well I have it.  As I drove home from the car shop with two brand new tires and a $200 hole in my bank account, I agonized over the amount of money I no longer had to do 'fun' things. Then as I was driving, I pass several individuals asking for money on street corners. People who seemingly have nothing. I passed people waiting in line at a church for food. And I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I was worrying about money I could no longer splurge on shoes, or clothes, or outings. Ashamed that I didn't take the time to understand how I am blessed financially in this current season of my life. Yes, I live on a teacher's salary which arguably isn't much, but I also have a salary which is more than so many can say. I have the means to pay for luxuries like my car. I have the means to pay for shelter, food, and clothing. Why am I worried about the extras in life, when I can easily possess the necessities?

I worried about so much. I worried about my job, grad school, friendships, failed relationships. Nothing was distracting me from these worries! I never thought I'd snap out of it until I was at Duke hospital waiting for a friend, and a little girl approached me. Questions came firing at me one after the other out of the mouth of the sweetest face.  "Hi! I have cancer. I like your hair! Can I touch it? You can't catch my cancer. I don't have hair cause my cancer, but I have a shiny head! I like my shiny head! Do you like my shiny head? You're pretty! I wish I could be pretty like you! Do you like my bear? She's my hospital bear! Do you like ice cream? Do you like french fries? Have you ever seen a hummingbird? I come to the hospital cause I am very sick! Are you very sick?" The questions went on and on.

And I was ashamed.

I was ashamed because a 5 year old understands more about life than I do. I was ashamed because her mother shared with me they'd been going through treatments with no marked success and things could turn grim any moment. I was ashamed because in my little world, dumb things mattered this week. In the real world there were precious children fighting for their lives. Fighting to have a future of the very obstacles I was complaining about.

I wouldn't dare tell any of you that I have completely dropped the hurt and worries I've experienced this week. That would be a lie, and I am not silly enough to think that I can instantly change my mindset. What I did realize, however, is that I need to stop and smell the roses. Each day is not guaranteed, and I'm placing too much value on things that in the end won't mean much. I need to learn to enjoy my struggles, to appreciate what they teach me. I'm not quite there yet, but with some work I know I will grow.

I want to start appreciating the simple things that used to bring me joy. That still bring me joy. Too many times they have been overlooked, and ignored so I can go back to worrying.

Worrying is no longer my job. Appreciating the life I have is.

From the Beginning

A couple of years ago when I started this blog I wrote out my story. Every year, sometime during April I repost that original post. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I have always felt like getting my story out there was important. This year instead of reposting about that night, I wanted to write a new post. I'm telling the same story, but in the past (almost) 4 years, I have grown a lot and wanted to see how that growth affects the way I view my story.  So let's go back to May 6, 2011...

May 5, 2011: Mid-Afternoon
I was sitting down at Old Town Draught House watching one of my best friends in the whole world eat his lunch. I wasn't hungry (ok, actually I was just super poor and couldn't afford lunch out), but I was happy to have some company. We had blasted Ke$ha in his car on the way to campus. It was a warm afternoon, and with the music blasting and windows rolled down I truly believed I didn't have a care in the world. I listened as he explained his new roommate situation: his new roommates were really nice, he seemed to hit it off with them, and he was relieved to finally be out of his previous rooming situation. "I really want you to meet them. You all would get along so well. ---- is a really cool guy, he's single, and I've told him about you. We might have people over tonight for Cinco de Mayo. You should come." For the millionth time that afternoon I told him I wasn't interested in going to a party that night. The semester (well, year) had been a tough and stressful one and my ankle was still bothering me (I had been on crutches for 2 weeks after a bad sprain while playing a game of tag during my Science Methods class). He told me if I changed my mind to let him know.

May 5, 2011: Around 9pm
I'm sitting criss cross applesauce on my couch watching Doctor Who on Netflix and eating a creamsicle. I'm bored out of my ever-loving mind. I should have told my best friend I would come over...everyone knows I hate being alone for any lengthy amount of time and I'm unsure of why I thought I'd want to be by myself. Suddenly my phone rings and it's him asking if I want to come over, he'll come pick me up, it'll be really fun, his cute roommate is excited to meet me, blah blah blah...
Next thing I know I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror, sniffing my pits (a lady must check these things to know when or when not to apply more deodorant) and realize I really should shave them but who's gonna see? I brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and then I hear the knock on the door signaling me to leave. As I hop into my friend's car I can't help but think that I should have changed my clothes. This outfit will not impress a boy. These jeans could stand to be washed. I don't know the last time I wore a bra other than this one. My School of Ed t-shirt is ratty, my UNCG jacket is a little tight (thanks, creamsicles!) and honestly my hair is a little greasier than I would prefer. His roommate will definitely overlook me.

May 6, 2011 12:30am
I probably shouldn't have another drink.  Oh, what the hell. Who cares? I'm in safe company. Plus, I'm having fun and I'm not out of my mind out of it. I can handle another one. I'll switch to water after this. I'm kind of hungry. I wish we had some pizza or something. His roommate is really cute. He seems to like me. He keeps touching my hand. And we like the same music! I would totally date him. OMG. OMGOMGOMG WHAT IF WE DATED AND I FINALLY HAD A BOYFRIEND? No, no, no. Can't get my hopes up........oh crap, he just handed me this drink. I trust him I think, but just in case I'll hide it behind this chair and grab my own. Can never be too safe. Wait, did he just say 'you make out with ----- and I'll make out with ----- and whoever stops first buys pizza?" That is so stupid. I'm not doing that.....whoa. guess I am doing that. This is actually kind of fun. It's not serious. Hm. He's a good kisser. I don't mind this. I really really really like him.

May 6, 2011: Around 1:55am
He just asked me to go upstairs! Fine with me cause ----- is being weird as crap. There's a living room area up there. I'll just tell him I don't want to do anything more than kissing since we've already been doing that....he said ok. Oh man, he's so cool.....Why is my heart beating so fast? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm making a mistake? I'm already halfway up these stairs, I don't know what my problem is.

May 6, 2011: 2am
This is the point I reached the top of the stairs. I headed towards the common area. He had other plans. He grabbed me around my waist, spun me around, and pushed me through the nearest doorway. Crap. I turned to ask him what was happening, but he just kept pushing. Suddenly we were by his bed, but it was dark and I couldn't see a thing. The door was still open, but that was the only light. He grabbed me around my waist and pushed me onto the mattress. Unfortunately we were really close to the wall and I slammed my head on the wall as I was pushed. I was confused. He started kissing me again and I didn't stop him. I was coherent, but I definitely had had more to drink than preferred. I wasn't quite sure yet if what was unfolding was wrong. Suddenly he was on top of me and the kisses turned painful. His hand was up my shirt, and his mouth was on my neck. That hurt. And I told him so. And he grabbed my throat with his hand and told me to "shut the f--k up". And that's when I knew I was in trouble.

May 6, 2011: 4am
My legs feel like jello. I'm trying to focus on walking down these carpeted steps. He's standing behind me on the landing, fiercely whispering things I don't understand. He doesn't exist. Nothing exists. It's just me and the stairs. I make it down, and carefully move towards my friend's bedroom door. I knock and hear him hurriedly trying to get to the door. He swings the door open with just a towel around his waist, looks me up and down and says "what's wrong?" I tell him it's fine, I just need to go home. I'm tired. And disgusting. And I don't understand what's happening to me. He says 'ok' closes and locks his door so he can change, and leaves me in the living room with my rapist looking at me from above.

May 6, 2011: 4:23am
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed when my friend calls me. "Seriously, what's wrong? What happened?" I promptly begin to describe the 2 hours of hell his roommate just put me through. I tried to describe what happened in a way he could understand...so that maybe he could help me understand. I told him about the threats of death. The threats against my family when they came to retrieve my body. The moment he instructed me to take off my jeans or prepare for a fate I didn't want to imagine. The moment I complied. I described how even though I knew what was about to happen, it still caught me off guard. It hurt, my vision blurred for a second. I begged him to stop and he just smirked. He told me that I was drunk, the cops would never believe me. Everyone would just think I was a whore. I told him that the pressure he put on my chest while he forcibly had sex with me (I still couldn't determine if that could be classified as rape) was too much and I tried everything to get him off of me. I finally asked if he had a condom. He rolled off, walked to his dresser, threw a condom at me and said "don't move". Then he walked into the bathroom. I told my friend that was my chance. I told him how I jumped off of the bed and tried to pull my jeans on, I told him I made a mistake of trying to button them when I should have been running towards the door (the door that somehow had become shut), I told him that ---- had his bathroom door open and heard me. I told him about the second time I was pushed onto the bed. I told him about the words that haunt me to this day "I think you like it. You're just afraid of liking it. Let's try something a little different." I told him how he put his hand down my unbuttoned pants, and how I wanted to push those memories out of my brain forever. And that's when he told me, "You were drunk. It's not his fault. You were leading him on." I hung up the phone, and took an hour long shower. I tried really hard to wash the disgust off of me, but that's just not something you can take care of with a bar of soap. After all of that I curled up in a ball on top of my sheets, covered up with a small blanket and fell asleep trying to make myself as small as possible. I hoped I could just disappear. Maybe it was a bad dream.

*********************************************************************************
The next morning I was in a state. I was confused, angry, in physical and emotional pain. Finally that night I called a friend who told me I was raped and insisted I call the police. That phone call resulted in a whirlwind of hospital visits and police interviews. Statements were given several times. He lied. I didn't. They didn't have enough against him. He walked free. I was chained in my own personal hell. A rape kit proved to be almost as traumatizing as the rape itself. People saw the hickeys and bruises on my neck and just assumed I "had too much fun" as said by one person. I didn't eat for days, weeks, months. It seemed like every time I had to go to a dr, it was assumed I had made poor decisions. Not that poor decisions had been made for me. My physical wounds healed. My emotional wounds did not. Flashbacks and night terrors ran my life. Suicide seemed better than going through any of that.

I look back on that time and I thank God that I am still here to tell my story. How I've written it now is as raw as I've ever told it. I have forever been embarrassed by the details. I was ashamed of my actions. I still am to this day. However, as part of reaching out to other women I've realized I have to be real. I am not required to tell my story, but I feel like I am called to it. I can choose to embrace that or reject it. I choose to embrace it. This April, I encourage you to take a stand. Make a difference. Even if it's a simple Facebook post. A hug to encourage a friend who has been hurt. There are moments I truly realize it's a miracle I am still alive. I think that's for a reason. Let's pay it forward. Let's show people how thankful we are for their lives.

Life is an incredible, sometimes painful, journey. I thank God every day I'm still on that journey. I'm glad you're on it with me.

Fear and Forgiveness

This past weekend I was so blessed to be able to attend my church's women's retreat in the mountains and I have had so many thoughts about it since I came home yesterday. I have found that getting my thoughts and emotions down in writing always helps me to process, plus I learned so many things worth sharing.  Two of the topics we talked about this weekend were fear and forgiveness. Wow. I looked at the outlines when I arrived on Friday and thought "Meh. I don't really have an issue with either of these things right now." Oh how wrong I was.


I am sitting in an auditorium, full of chatty laughing women, having just a great time. I was unsuspecting. Fear. I don't have fear anymore! I paid a therapist a lot of money so I no longer held onto my fears! I have Jesus! I am fearless, I am courageous, I am tough.  And then, our session began. Sidenote: Pat Harley is an AMAZING speaker! I was so blessed by her words all weekend.  Ok anyway, Pat starts speaking and I'm taking notes and sort of thinking with like 1/8 of my brain. The more I listened, however, the more unsettled I felt. And that's when it hit me like a pillowcase full of cinderblocks: I am not fearless. I am not the courageous, strong person I once tricked myself into thinking I was. I am a coward. I have been holding onto so many fears stemming from other fears that I had rid myself of long ago. Tears sprung to my eyes as I quickly began to understand that I was letting fear run my life 99% of the time.  Honestly, all of the fears I hold on to are a)a result of my rape and b)things I didn't categorize as a fear. 


You see, I always viewed fears as things that were BIG DEALS. For example, a fear of heights, a fear of being killed, etc. I used to fear my rapist. I used to fear leaving my house because there are terrible people in the world and I didn't want to experience any more physical and mental pain. I don't fear those things any more. What do I fear? I fear being abandoned. I lost all of my friends once, and I am always fearful that it will happened again. The odds of it happening in a large group which was the case when I was assaulted, are very slim. However I always seem to panic when I think I'm annoying someone or talking too much. I am afraid that one or two people will decide I am too much trouble and leave. I fear screwing up my job. I fear never being in a relationship. I fear saying the wrong thing. I have so many 'little' fears, but I was shown that these little fears make it possible for me to slip up in big ways. Acting on these little fears causes big sin. I was forced to see that I was placing all of these fears as idols, and wasn't following Jesus as closely or fervently as I claimed. My fear was controlling every single action I had, but no more. One of the most powerful things I was able to do at this retreat was write down these fears on a piece of paper and lay it at the foot of the cross. I gave it to Jesus and that is where it will stay.




Forgiveness was the second topic of the day. I have struggled with forgiveness for an extremely long amount of time. When you are filled with as much anger and hurt as I am, it sometimes seems near impossible to forgive anyone. I was completely fine during this session until I decided to write out who I needed to forgive and for what. And then I lost it. For the second time that day I was able to give it to Jesus. After I made that decision, I sat and cried for a long time...it was draining. I have held on to so much anger. I can't be free until I choose to forgive. I was always under the false assumption that forgiveness is a 'one and done' deal. I could forgive once and would never need to again. I realized on Saturday that for awhile this is going to be a daily battle. I am going to have to choose to forgive every. single. day. Most days I need to forgive the same people for the exact same things. And that's ok. But I HAVE to do it. I can still have boundaries, and forgiving doesn't mean their actions are ok. But man alive, if I can't forgive others how can I ever expect them to forgive me? And why do I continue to put myself through the torture of anger and sadness?


The biggest take away from these experiences is that I need to stop holding on and give it to God.

Triggers, Nightmares, and Paranoia

I've blogged before (probably about 2 years ago) about triggers, but a 'new' one has wormed its way into existence and it has been really interesting to me to observe how it plays itself out. First, let me explain what a trigger is to those of you who may be confused. I didn't hear that word used so frequently until I was raped. I was constantly asked by therapists and psychiatrists "so what triggered you?" Uhm. What? So basically a trigger is one thing that happens that causes some type of reaction. I used to have (and still do have) certain specific triggers. The most prevalent ones I experienced were mint, pepperoni pizza, touch, compliments on my appearance and the song Smells Like Teen Spirit. I have gotten through those, and they don't create a negative reaction for me anymore, which is great because I love pepperoni pizza and hearing how pretty I am ;). When I would smell, hear or taste all of those things I would have panic attacks. I would get nauseas and sometimes throw up. If someone touched my arm or gave me a hug once during a day when I didn't want them to, I might have nightmares/ night terrors that night. Fortunately I have come a long way in 3 years and I don't have severe reactions (if any reaction) to those things anymore.

Recently I have started having nightmares again and experienced some paranoia, especially at night. I couldn't quite place a finger on the larger, underlying issue. My typical triggers weren't doing it. Usually with those things I have a kind of physical warning like an adrenaline rush or increased heart rate. It's hard to explain. I kept a log of everything that was happening throughout the day and whether or not I experienced nightmares and/or paranoia that night. What I found was that the days my everyday stress increased, my nightmares and paranoia came rushing back. It has been really strange to try and wrap my brain around how the normal stress of work deadlines, relationships, and finances can trigger nightmares and fears attributed to my rape. In my mind, these things don't correlate. Why am I experiencing flashbacks and the weird dreams I had when I was first assaulted? Who knows. I guess I've shoved the memories so far into my subconcious that it just tries to find ways to creep back out.

Last night was the worst. I was getting ready for bed and heard a loud noise. It was just the front door into my building; the girl upstairs lets it slam shut when she comes in and it always makes my apartment door shake a little. Normally it doesn't bother me. Last night it sent me into a complete fit. My heart was racing, tears pricked my eyes, and I had to fight the urge to scream. Then, out of nowhere I started thinking about the possibility of someone hiding in my apartment. I crept around and flipped on every light, armed with a small pink canister of pepper spray in my right hand. I checked under the couch, behind the loveseat, behind the edge of the kitchen counter, under my bed, the side of my bed, in my closet, behind the hutch (no one would be able to fit back there), behind the dresser (or there), behind the bathroom door and made sure to fling back the shower curtain. Then I started thinking about how awful it would be to look out of a window to see a face staring back. Cue Kayleigh looking through every window and hanging a blanket over the ones she did not think the blinds properly covered. It was awful, I felt like a crazy person. But I couldn't stop. I. Couldn't. Stop. It was like I had no control over my own body. My brain was screaming  to stop, but my legs kept pulling me forward.

The nightmares last night were pretty gnarly too. They were mostly flashbacks, with some extra trauma added in (because rape flashbacks totally need extra awfulness layered on). In one I was able to run away only to find myself trapped in a funhouse and raped all over again. In another, I was older and had a daughter of my own. Instead of me being assaulted, my imagined daughter was. That was pretty terrible. All of this brought on because everyday stress is getting the best of me. When things get a little tough, I seem to start slowly unraveling at the edges.

I guess the whole point is that I now understand how triggers don't have to be as specific as I thought. They can actually be pretty generic. Even though the past couple of weeks have been rough dealing with all of this, I actually feel an unusual sense of comfort knowing that you never really completely recover. Like, I never understood how I could be doing so well and how I could just suddenly not be affected by such a big life event. Now I know, though, that things aren't always going to be perfect. I will carry it with me forever, but it doesn't have to own my life. Like I said, there's something strangely comforting about that reality.

Anyway, pray for me yall. I need it. I would like to stop feeling terrorized by my own mind at night.

#FraudLife

I am a wonderful, loving teacher, an excellent daughter, a God fearing Christian, a compassionate friend...and a fraud. 

Yes, a fraud. 

You may be asking yourself, how in the world is Kayleigh a fraud? Is she a liar? Isn't she a teacher, daughter, Christian, and friend?

Well, dear friend, slide over a little closer and allow me to let you in on a little secret. 

I discovered recently that none of those adjectives describe me, and I feel like I have fooled you all. 

When I receive compliments, I cringe. I do not know how to graciously experience and accept kind words directed towards myself. Not that I don't LIKE hearing good things about myself, I just don't know how to digest them. My ears get hot, my cheeks turn a rosier red than normal, I get a small smile on my face and can just about manage to squeak out a tiny "thank you". 

A wonderful, loving teacher... is how I would describe someone who emulated Mother Teresa in the teaching profession. I am not Mother Teresa. Some days I get so frustrated that I want to walk straight out of the door and never come back. Some days I want to throw my hands in the air and say I give up. When little Johnny pokes his neighbor in the eye with his pencil for the third time in a week, I want to quit. When little Billy throws a fit and yells and cries, I want to climb under my desk and yell and cry, too. I make mistakes on a daily basis. My profession is messy, and I try to put on a good front that I have it all together. But guess what? I am far from having it together. There are days I look at my lesson plans and think "what in the world does this even mean?". There are moments where I think about how increasingly pleasant my life would be if I married a rich man and ran away to someplace tropical. I get stressed, and irritated, and discouraged. And then I look into the sweet little faces in my classroom and remember why I'm there. If I were gone, would another teacher bother to take a breath and calmly tell Johnny to put the pencil down or lose it for the tenth time in a day? Would someone else go and hug little Billy and tell him she understands he's upset and that it's going to be ok? I have to remember that I am doing this job for a reason. I have a purpose. It is frustrating. I may never see the positive outcomes of my work, but I have to trust that they'll be there someday. I, however, am not wonderful and loving. I am a hot mess. I'm trying to survive most days. I mess up and I lose my patience and I want to give up. I love my kids. But some days it feels like I am going bonkers. Some days it seems more appealing to give in and give up than to keep up the fight. 

An excellent daughter...is someone who does everything right. Someone who appreciates their parents. Who can forgive the little things, and love unconditionally. None of those things describe how I am. I am ungrateful. I am a terrible daughter. One day about 2 months ago, I had someone tell me "Your parents are so blessed to have a daughter like you." When I heard those words, I wanted to die. I wasn't speaking to my mom, my dad was driving me crazy, and I was walking around like nothing was happening at all. I roll my eyes, I don't say thank you. I don't easily forgive the little OR the big things. I hold on to all the wrong memories, and don't treasure the right ones. I'm quick to point out their flaws as parents before I ever even think to stop and bring up the million things they've done right. I just cry and moan about the ten they've done wrong. I have you all fooled on this one. I am not an excellent daughter, I'm a horrible daughter. 

A God fearing Christian...describes about 90% of the people I have surrounded myself with. These are people who when the Lord calls them, they answer. When He asks them to do something tough for Him, they are obedient. When things go awry, they pray, they trust, they continue on strong. 

I am not one of these people. 

Sometimes I try to make God wait. When He pushes me to do something difficult I drag my feet, I whine, I complain. I tell everyone how hard it is. I don't always trust. I don't always pray. And rarely do I continue on strong. I'm not always confident that He will pull me through...instead I'm scared. I'm afraid to take a leap of faith, even a tiny one. I'm afraid that when I doubt Him, that it will somehow count against me in my life. I fight with Him. I am not always obedient. 

When I think of a model Christian I do not think of me. I think of someone who has immense amounts of compassion for other people. Someone who jumps at the chance to serve the Lord. People who have memorized mass amounts of scripture and can recite the perfect verse when opportunity arises (you people drive me a little crazy sometimes, to be honest...you're all like "well 1 Corinthians... says..." and I'm all like "I can recite Green Eggs and Ham.") They seem to have it together. I, on the other hand, feel like a fish out of water sometimes (most times). Life is messy. My life is messy. I don't understand why things happen or why God allows them to happen. I constantly question why He chooses me to do things. Sometimes I'm too tired to pray, I think "I'll talk to God later". Too often Jesus gets gently nudged to the side. I worry about what people will think about this life I've chosen. I worry, period. I'm afraid to ask questions, because I want people to think I've got it together. I'm afraid to admit weakness in my faith. Especially in this aspect of my life, I just feel like a fraud plain and simple. A faux Christian. I don't feel like I'm doing a good enough 'job'. And I hate it. And I do everything in my power to keep that from 87% of the people I surround myself with. 

A compassionate friend...is not me. I'm a friend. I'm a funny friend. I can be compassionate sometimes. But other times I want to look at my beautiful, wonderful friends and tell them to shut it. I want to tell them to get over it. That things cannot possibly be that bad or difficult. I don't always take the time to put myself in their shoes. I don't always make it a point to actively listen, and ask questions and give advice. I realized that this was the case when I recently had dinner with Lauren...and only looked at my phone one time the entire 2 hours we were together. I actually did listen, and did ask questions, and realized that I had been missing out on a lot of things my friend had tried to tell me in the past. I missed out on truly being immersed in a great story. I missed out on the little details that could have helped me to give better advice on past troubles. I was not present. I was not always understanding. I was not always sympathetic. Sometimes I'm more interested in expressing my issues than listening to someone else's and that's simply not fair. I am a friend, but I'm not often a very good one. 

I think what I need here is help. I want to be all of these things so I don't feel like I need to deceive you all anymore. Some of these things I know what to do, but others I don't. I don't know how to be more faithful. I don't know how to be more present. I don't know how to remain calm and patient and not want to quit. But I want to learn. So tell me, friends, what advice can you give this fraud?

A Symbol of Hope

I am sure I have told this story before on this blog (probably last Christmas), but I think that it's good enough to share again. There is a four letter word that is powerful, and means a lot to me. It's a word that has many meanings to many people. It's a word that carries the dreams and anxieties of many.

That word is hope. 

Hope is something I believed 3 years ago I did not possess. I was hopeless, helpless, and in all seriousness I was constantly on the verge of death. I felt alone, even when surrounded by masses of people. Do you know how bizarre it feels to feel so alone in a crowd? It is the strangest thing, and not a type of feeling I was getting used to. It happened all of the time, but never ceased to make me feel uncomfortable. 

I was going through the motions at that time. It had been about 7 months since I had been raped, but I was hitting a point where the seriousness of the situation finally had begun to hit. It was my senior year of college and I was a fireball of stress. I was having panic attacks on a consistent basis, and I felt like my world was crashing down around me. College is hard enough. Relationships are hard enough. Throw in a sexual assault and stir in some PTSD and what you have just created is a disaster. I didn't know what to do with myself. Two failed suicide attempts later (one may not count to many as an attempt, but it counts to me) and I was a hot mess.

No one needed me. If I was gone no one would miss me. I was convinced I would flunk out of school even though my supervisor was doing everything in her power to pull me through. My roommates were starting to slink back into the shadows of their own lives. Friends I once had, had chosen his side and decided that I was not worthy of their friendship. I was alone, I was sad, and I was afraid. I constantly feared for my life but was often met with the words of those who were trying to encourage, but only made it worse. 

"You have nothing to be afraid of...", they said.

"It's been 6 months.", they retorted. 

"You're safe. You're going to be ok."

As far as I was concerned, as long as he was free I was not safe. As long as he walked this earth I would never be safe. Even to this day I am fearful. I am not in a constant state of fear, but there are still those moments where I want to lock myself in my home and never leave. If I lock myself in, he'll never get to me. 

I was not going home for Christmas this year as I had to work the holiday in order to pay some of my bills. I felt so alone it hurt. 

One night I decided to just drive around town and maybe look at some Christmas lights. I drove to Cookout and ordered an Eggnog milkshake (delicious!). I started driving in no particular direction and soaked in the different neighborhood Christmas displays. Some 30 minutes later I drove, by chance, through the Sunset Hills neighborhood and that's when something changed in me. 

I saw the most beautiful Christmas lights I have ever seen in my life. 

If you have never driven through that neighborhood let me explain this to you. They wrap twinkle lights around chicken wire to form balls. They then string them throughout the trees. These lights hang down and encase the neighborhood in beautiful, twinkling, colorful lights. 

Those lights were literally my light in the midst of darkness. I was filled with so much joy as my car crept through the quiet street. They opened something within my heart and filled me with so much peace. I deserved to live. I was needed. I just simply had to be reminded of the beauty of the world. I watched couples slowly making their way down the sidewalk soaking in this sight as much as they could. It was incredible. 

Every night until January, I drove down those streets with an eggnog milkshake in hand. I would blast Christmas music (mostly Glee...I was obsessed at the time) and I would smile. 

Those lights were my symbol of hope.

Tonight I took a trip down memory lane. I grabbed an eggnog milkshake from Cookout (keeping the tradition alive) and drove through Sunset Hills admiring my small, but mighty, symbols of hope. 

I now place my hope in a power higher than some strings of Christmas lights. Those lights didn't completely fix me, but they helped me to hang on a little longer. I know now that coming across this neighborhood and these lights was no accident. I didn't believe in God at the time, but looking back I know His hand was in that moment. I truly believe He orchestrated my trip so that I could have more time to make a difference and leave my mark on this world. 

Tonight I am thankful for many things. I am thankful for the people who have walked in and out of my life. I am thankful for my 13 little blessings. I am grateful for the people who have, and continue to mentor me. I am, however, especially thankful for eggnog milkshakes, balls of sparkling Christmas lights, and hope. 

Thankful 2k14

Just a quick post to kick off Thanksgiving. I've found myself being really thankful lately, not just this week and wanted to express it! So without further ado...

1. I am thankful for a job where I can love and teach kids. A job that helps me grow and challenges me to become a better teacher, and keep my eyes fixed on Jesus. 

2. I am thankful for supportive coworkers who encourage me and make me laugh on a daily basis. I would not be able to survive without that. 

3. I am thankful for the opportunity to volunteer these past 10 months with some precious kids every Wednesday. I love seeing the joy on their faces when they walk through the door. It has been an amazing experience, being able to teach these kids about Jesus and being a fun place of escape for an hour every week. I am so sad I'll have to stop in January until summer, and know that I'll be ecstatic when I come back. 

4. I am thankful for Lauren and Amy. They're the best friends I could have ever asked for. They call me out on my crap and laugh at most of my jokes (even when they're not funny...). I can count on them to give advice when I need it, and I'm thankful for the times where we can all just kind of sit in comfortable silence. 

5. I am thankful for the mentors I've had throughout the year. Mentors for both my professional life and my spiritual life. These people have taught me the importance of hard work, dedication, passion, and faith. With their help I've been able to trudge through so much. I can see how much I've changed in just a short amount of time, and that is something I will always be grateful for. 

6. I am thankful for my dishwasher. This may sound trivial, but Y'ALL. DON'T. EVEN. KNOW. 

DON'T. EVEN. KNOW. 

I'm also thankful for all of you, who still read my ramblings and don't think I'm crazy. 

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Dear Survivor

Earlier this week I saw an article posted on Facebook about a young man who was arrested for raping a 20 year old girl from a different university than the one he attended. Let me go ahead and tell you that some of the comments being made truly upset me. Little things like, "we call a lot of things rape these days. When a guy and a girl participate in heavy foreplay and the girl changes her mind right before they actually have sex and they have sex anyway, that's suddenly rape." Uhm, last time I checked that IS rape. Seriously? I don't care what you were doing...as soon as you say 'no' or 'stop' or if you're too intoxicated to be giving consent, I expect the other party involved to be considerate and respectful and STOP. Aside from all of that I couldn't help but think about that poor girl whose life was suddenly turned upside down. She's the same age I was, went through the same trauma I did, and will undoubtedly deal with some of the same problems afterward that I did. I thought about what I would say to her and what I would tell her about fighting through it and decided to write an open letter. I don't know that that particular girl would ever see it, but if ONE survivor sees it and it helps ONE person, then it could be worth it.

Dear Survivor,
That's what you should think of yourself as now; a survivor.  You aren't a victim, but there are going to be days, weeks, months, and years where you'll feel like it's going to be so much easier to just act like one. You have gone through what is, in my opinion, the worst trauma you could have gone through. It's confusing and a lot of times it won't make sense. You'll wonder why you're so upset when you could be dead. Eventually you're going to realize that you have every right to feel every emotion that floods you. 

There are going to be days where you will want to die. Pulling yourself out of bed is going to be a struggle, you'll think that things would just be easier if you could just stop breathing. You'll dream about taking pills or running a razor through your skin. And then there will be times where everything will stop feeling so overwhelming and you'll question why you ever felt like your life wasn't worth living.

Physical touch might scare you for a while. A sudden brush against your shoulder, a hug, a pat on the back...all of these things have the potential to send you spiraling. And that's ok. Eventually you will work through it. 

You didn't deserve this. None of us did. I speak from experience. We should have had normal lives, we shouldn't be afraid of people, we shouldn't have to struggle through simple every day tasks. Unfortunately that's the hand we've been dealt and here's how we're going to handle it. 

Fight. Promise me you will fight. Don't hurt yourself, don't kill yourself, don't be ok with being stuck in bed all day. Fight back. Don't let him take the joy of living your life fully away from you. Find a good therapist and stick with them until they feel you're ready to exit. If necessary, find a psychiatrist and tell them about any symptoms you're experiencing. Many of us suffer from PTSD, and something I learned that I hadn't known is that PTSD is treatable and cureable according to my own doctor. Speak to people. You don't have to do what I do and blog. You don't have to tell everyone you meet, but I highly suggest telling one person that you trust with everything you have. Having someone to confide in is so helpful especially during the darkest days. Having a support and someone to look out for you is important. 

I know it sucks. It will always suck. It is the worst and I wish you didn't have to join the club. Unfortunately you, like the rest of us, didn't have a choice. Know that I believe you can make it. I believe you can fight hard and that you won't let it define you. Block out the opinions in this world that aren't acting as an encouragement to you. Surround yourself with people who will build you up and make you feel alive. 

Most importantly know that though I may not know any of you survivors who are reading this, that I care about you and encourage you from afar. Know that I pray for each of you every day. And know that you can survive. 

Love,
Someone who has had to go through the same hell you have

Emotions

Emotions are the actual worst.

My emotions tend to really screw things up for me. I feel too much, too intensely, and too often. When I "feel" I feel deeply. Almost too deeply. Every emotion hits me at once and I can't seem to manipulate my reactions to it. People have told me that don't understand why I react to certain situations in certain ways. You guys don't understand. When things happen, I have the most overwhelming feelings washing over me and it's almost as if I have no control over them. Like today, for instance, I had a student tell me he loved me (after he threw a fit). I had been working so hard to get him to a place where he would be respectful and self disciplined. Literally all he said was "I'm sorry. I love you so much." I was so excited that we'd had a teeny weeny breakthrough that I literally broke down into tears. Most people may feel a small burst of pride...not me. The floodgates were opened and I was a mess and no one seemed able to understand it.

When I mess up, I know I've messed up. I beat myself to a pulp over it, I overanalyze everything I said and did. When I'm angry at someone I get so upset that I cry. Not because they've pissed me off that much, but because I suddenly fear that any bit of friendship that was there will magically disappear. When I'm sad I sink into a state of comatose. I am paralyzed by my grief, even if only over the smallest thing. I will find myself in moments of sorrow so intense that I literally cannot move. People move around me in a blur and I can't make out the words they're saying.

It truly pains me to be like this. Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy the overpowering emotions I have that mute any good quality I possess.  It's not a drama queen thing, it's an extremely sensitive human thing.

One of the biggest things I've been struggling with as of late is being told by several people that I have no reason to feel the way I do. I've been getting upset lately, and for the first time in a long time I've actually found my voice and approached those issues head on. I don't think that people are used to me addressing them full force when I get upset. Typically I convince myself that I was fully at fault and that there is nothing that needs to be addressed. However I have come to realize that that is a self destructive mindset and does nothing to help me process my emotions. It also eventually catches up with me and causes me to feel a lot of resentment towards the person I feel has wronged me. I blame this completely on the fact that I don't allow myself to process what I'm feeling. I don't deal with it right away and let it eat me alive until one day I finally explode. And when I do explode it's usually met with a "what's her problem?"  That's because the most trivial circumstances are usually what tips the scale.

I am vowing to start dealing with problems as the arise. Even if it seems simple to you and foolish, please don't downplay what I feel. I have been hurt and taken advantage of so many times in the past that a lot of simple and foolish things bring long repressed feelings to the surface and make it nearly unbearable to function until I can confront them.

If you are a true friend, please just be there for me. Please just help me work through it. Don't tell me I'm crazy or have a bad temper or have no reason to be upset. Obviously if I'm upset it's for a reason...but maybe it's just not for whatever caused the reaction. I know I have a bad temper, and I'm working on it. I feel like feeling anger isn't a problem, but letting it control us and determine our actions is.

Be a friend. Help me process. Let me hug you. Most importantly, pray for me. This emotion stuff is causing me to go through a lot of other things within a lot of friendships and I feel like it's all hit me at once. It's overwhelming and difficult to deal with in a lump like this. I'm trying to be a better person for these people, at the same time acknowledging my feelings, and also trying to make people happy at the same time. Navigating this period of my life is really hard and the struggle is real. Feeling so much is almost too much to bear.

Emotions are a funny thing. Without them we would be nothing, but sometimes they can be too much.

Circle Round There Is No End...That's How Long I Want to Be Your Friend

Before I even get into the meat of this blog I just have to tell the best story ever. So back in my UNCG days I was friends with this girl Cassy. Cassy hated me at first...like really hated me. I guess I can see now why she did. We worked together and I was in a leadership position and had to enforce a lot of stuff. I also think that at age 19 I wasn't quite ready to handle all of that responsibility and didn't do the greatest job leading. I was like a bubbly, annoying dictator. Anyway one night we had to sit our team down for a pow wow when one of the girls just verbally let me have it. Everyone stared in shock and I fought back tears as we continued our meeting. At the end of this meeting Cassy came up and gave me a hug and we quickly became good friends. Such good friends that she was the first person I called when I was raped, the person who came right to my apartment and drove me to the hospital. Unfortunately, as time went on I was terrible at keeping up with people. As of last Sunday I had not seen her in 3 years or talked to her in at least 2. Suddenly at church I look to the other side of the room and see her. My jaw dropped and I quickly texted her to inform her she had been spotted. I went and said hey after the service but didn't really speak with her much. I was so excited that I had seen her that I decided to reach out to her that night to see if we could get together and catch up. So we had dinner Friday and it was so great it's like our friendship was renewed! And we're both still a couple of weirdos. We were talking about my church and I am about to quote her on the best thing she said all night. She said, "I mean I like it, I just kind of get uncomfortable when everybody sings because I don't know the words....also I don't like karaoke." I laughed so hard I cried and people stared. I couldn't help it! I'd never heard anyone refer to worship as karaoke! #dead
Anyway I promised her she'd make it into my newest blog, and I am just so happy we're friends agaaaaain!!!!

That was a good segway into my post because I'm going to talk about relationships. Friends, family, significant others...I'm sure they could all fit under what I'm about to say.

Relationships are hard.

Yup. I said it. They are difficult. Keeping up a friendship is HARD. Keeping up with family is HARD. And I'm sure keeping up with a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife is HARD but I have no experience with that so I won't discuss it. Instead I want to focus on friendships. Because they're difficult. And people don't seem to like to admit that.

I love my friends. I love having friends. I love becoming friends with new people. But I am a selfish friend. I like being assured that my friends are truly my friends and care about me. I like knowing that I can call someone about my problems, or about the weird encounter at the Verizon store, or about how I just know so and so is out to get me, or about the weird thing on my face that's like a weird cross between a bug bite and a zit....you get the point. I like hanging out with my friends and trying to talk to ALL of them on a daily basis. But I get sick of being the one always reaching out. And that is where I have run into some trouble.

I expect everyone to be like me. I expect everyone to show love the same way I do. If I hug you and you don't hug me back with the same amount of enthusiasm, I feel hurt. If I text you and you never respond, I feel forgotten. If I come to you with what I think is a problem and you brush it off or don't react the way I want you to, I feel like you're judging me. Not everyone is like me. Trust me I am by no means perfect....I have extremely rough edges. But unfortunately for me I didn't realize that until recently. What did I realize?

I am not a very good friend.

I talk, but I don't listen. I care, but not enough. I love, but not in all the right ways. I try to make plans, but it's because I feel lonely and need company, not because I know you had a rough day and could use some coffee.

I am selfish. I get hurt too easily. I don't express my feelings well verbally. 

That last one is a huge problem for me. I can tell you how I feel very well when writing my thoughts out. But if you expect me to tell you in person, forget it. I avoid eye contact and get extremely uncomfortable. I get embarrassed that I felt any way at all. You know what I realized? It's because I know that I could have done better, and I'm afraid of losing people.

I've realized the true value of friendships the past few weeks, right when I feared that I was about to lose 2 very important ones to me. I've learned it's not always about me, 24/7. Sometimes people we care about have things going on too, and they deserve to be heard. I've learned that sometimes I guess I can tend to love too hard. Sometimes I expect too much from people. Sometimes I don't explain how I feel very well, and important things get lost in the confusion.

I have made some resolutions for my friendships since about a week ago. I am now trying harder to show an interest in my friends' lives. It's not that I wasn't interested before...I would just get sidetracked by the things that were happening in my own life. I am going to force myself to be verbal. I am going to try really hard to actually speak to people about everything I need/want to talk to them about. When I have questions I will ask them...in person not always via text and email. And I won't be embarrassed by it. And I won't allow anyone or anything to make me feel stupid for asking them. (Ok maybe I will be a little bit, but I'm going to try to at least mask it.) I will tell people if I'm feeling hurt and own my feelings. Because if I can't do that, what's the point of bringing them up in the first place? I will be a better listener. I will try to stop taking things so personally.  I'm going to try really hard to stop being so selfish.

Friendships are important. At this point they are vital to my survival on earth...that's a fact I have to accept. I am a very relational person. I need people. Other people bring me joy and energy and that's something I love. I just have to be better at being there for other people.

What kind of friend will you be this week?

Real Talk: Depression

My original thought was that I'd write a happy post this week about how wonderfully my new job is going, but this is much more important. As most of you have already read, Robin Williams was found dead this afternoon from an apparent suicide. Now I am not normally one to get overly upset about celebrity deaths, but this one truly cut me to the core. Mrs. Doubtfire, Jumanji, Aladdin, Flubber, Hook....these were all childhood staples. That man has had me laughing and dreaming since I was a little bitty thing, and after hearing this news I felt like I really needed to readdress depression on this blog. Depression is an illness that will never disappear from this earth, and we need to become more aware of it. 

Unless you're brand new to this blog, you know that I have struggled with severe depression for the last 3 years, which was one of the after effects of the rape I was a victim of in college. Some of you also may or may not know that I struggled with mild depression during my freshman year of college. I remember so many times that I have confided in people where they expressed disbelief because "you're so happy all of the time!" and "you have nothing to be depressed about." It is so important to understand that we do not choose depression. Depression finds us and envelopes it with it's dark, icy embrace. 

Depression is a chemical imbalance. It can also be caused by stressful events, medication, faulty mood regulation, and genetics. Depression is not as simple as sadness. We cannot take one emotion and slap it onto the word depression, thinking that it explains everything. The dictionary definition of depression in the psychiatric sense:

 a condition of general emotional dejection and withdrawal; sadness greater and more prolonged than thatwarranted by any objective reason. (dictionary.com)

You aren't just sad. You have no sense of purpose, no sense of self worth. You go through long stretches of time where it's easier to remain hidden in your home, than face the world. Just because someone seems to be outwardly happy, doesn't mean they aren't battling internal demons. 

I always pictured my depression as a black speck. Most of the time that speck stays hidden way in the back of my noggin. I rarely think about it. But then, something will trigger that speck and it starts to expand. Imagine like an oil spill in the sea....it starts to seep into every crevice of my brain. It takes over and negates every positive thought, every urge to succeed. It whispers to me that I would be better off alone. That no one cares. That I am worth nothing. That I am a burden. That I am useless. Unwanted. And my brain doesn't have the proper equipment to fight it off. 

My brain also cannot produce effective ways to cry out for help, because it feels like it (I) doesn't deserve help. Inside I know I desperately want someone to reach out, offer a word of encouragement, help me fix my brain. I just don't know how. And I truly believe that that is the point where many people give up and decide they cannot take it anymore. Life is too hard, it isn't worth the fight, and even if it was worth it they wouldn't know how to fight anyway. Oh, how many times I've felt this! My story, however, is different. I am blessed beyond measure. I have been surrounded by people who are extremely intuitive, who know me and care about me more than I could ever fathom. They've seen the red flags, and instead of letting it go, they jumped onto the problem and did what they could to help. Medications and therapy are what have always gotten me through. 

I am not saying there is always a way to "fix" it. Sometimes medicine doesn't work. Sometimes therapy makes it worse by bringing a lot of muck to the surface. I do think, though, that if we all made ourselves more aware of the warning signs we could make a difference. I think if we approached the topic of depression and mental illness in general, in a more meaningful way, that we could bring about a lot of change.

People who commit suicide are not selfish. Often they belief in their heart of hearts that they are doing what is best for their loved ones, that they are relieving a burden. Yes, death often hurts those around us more than anything we could do in our lives, but when you are struggling with severe depression you don't have the resources to realize that. I remember hearing of a suicide back in December and was ashamed to know the people who claimed this individual was heartless and selfish and that they were disgusted. They weren't selfish and heartless. They were sick. A disease of the brain should not be treated any differently than a disease of the heart.

Stop treating mental illness like it isn't valid. Keep an eye out for the warning signs. The happiest people have often times suffered the most. 

Love eachother. Understand eachother. 

Most importantly, let us not allow our misconceptions to prevent us from enhancing and possibly saving a life. 

Tragedy can so many times be prevented. 

Step up.

Patience

Patience. I hate that word. Patience is something I've never really possessed. I mean, I can be patient with my students, and some other people. But the problem is, when I want something to happen in my life or I'm trying to make a change....I have no patience whatsoever. So it's no surprise that in May when my therapist told me I no longer needed to see her, I assumed that meant I was cured and I wouldn't have any problems ever again.

Yes I know now that that was stupid. A girl can dream, right?

This dream began when my psychiatrist made a comment that PTSD is completely curable. And so I thought "sweet I'm cured!".  I've found, though, that the memories and the feelings of anxiety, depression, and anger don't really totally disappear. 

I was raped 3 years ago and the past 3 years have been a roller coaster ride! I desperately wanted to be ok. I am ok. But I set unrealistic expectations for myself regarding my recovery and the rest of my life. Those expectations set me up for disaster. I became so frustrated with myself when little things I used to do constantly happened once in a while. I didn't even recognize what a blessing it was that these things were no longer happening every day! I was frustrated when I continuously contacted a friend who I knew was working and busy and panicked when I didn't get a response right away (this was a few weeks ago). I worried that I was becoming a burden and that she wouldn't want to talk to me ever again because I couldn't get myself together. I beat myself up over it. I never thought about how she had stood by me for the past year and a half, how she took my problems and helped me to face them head on, how she literally did whatever she could to make sure I felt safe and has always given the best advice for processing my feelings. I didn't take the time to remember these things and how she'd been with me through the worst, and a small bump in the road wasn't going to make her disappear. 

That same week one of my good guy friends gave me a hug. It was a sneak hug, I didn't see him coming and that normally (well for the past year at least) wouldn't bother me. I knew it was him, I knew he meant no harm. Yet I bristled. As soon as I felt myself tense up, I was screaming at myself internally. He could tell right away it had made me uncomfortable and apologized over and over and over again. I was frustrated that stupid things like hugs still made me panic. I didn't bother to remember that I'd gone months without reacting that way, and that this was a minor hiccup and not a major setback.  For the record, the next time I saw this friend I gave him the biggest bear hug and apologized for how I reacted. I know he's a good guy, and he would never do anything intentionally to hurt me or make me uncomfortable. I think that's why I was so upset with myself. 

These are all things I have to look past. I have overcome a lot of things since 2011, but I need to come to terms with the fact that I am not going to have a perfect life.  There will be days where I struggle, and that's ok. It doesn't mean I've slipped backwards entirely. I went through a traumatic experience, and some of the effects of that experience will stick with me. I'm not always going to be prepared for when I have minor setbacks, but I vow to try and remind myself of how much I've conquered when they happen. It's amazing that a year ago I was struggling daily, and that I can honestly say today that I rarely ever think about what I've been through. It's not something that constantly pops in my head or replays in my sleep. I am so grateful for the people who have walked along side me, especially for those times when I was convinced I would never get better. They told me I could, and would get better...and I did! But that journey took patience. Patience. That stupid word again. I need to be patient. I need to understand that healing takes time. 

I hope that we all can find the opportunity to be patient with whatever trials we are facing in our lives. I hope you can all continue to be patient with me. Be patient with each other. Be patient in your circumstances. Patience is a tough word, but I think if we can all learn to embrace it, we might find more peace in our lives. 

The Beetle

I just love nights where I can sit outside on my balcony and have some quiet time to read or journal or think. Tonight was a good night to do just that....yes it was warm and muggy, but it was also quiet and peaceful. I was overjoyed to slow down for the first time today and crack open my bible for a few minutes. That's when it happened.

There I was reading a verse from Revelation for an online bible study I'm doing, when I was jolted out of my peaceful time. There it was, right by my bare foot. A beetle. You know the ones I'm talking about, those oval shaped black ones that stick to walls and fly and strike terror into the hearts of all living creatures. Here I am reading about the end of days, when suddenly I'm faced with a creature who is sure to be the end of MY days.

I didn't want that monster sticking in my long, beautiful, silky, wavy, majestic hair. I also didn't want it touching my foot and potentially making its way up my leg and towards my mediocre face. If there were ever a time for me to exclaim "I'm too pretty for this!" it was in that moment. I knew I had to do something. I couldn't just sit idly by while this bug plotted my demise. I had to devise a plan.

Girl vs. Bug
I slowly took my foot off of the rail of my balcony and tiptoed towards the door, keeping my eye on my foe the entire way there should he decide to follow me and shank me with his little beetle-y legs. I quickly ran inside and slammed the door shut and tried to think of some humane ways to get rid of this thing. Unfortunately I was going to have to kill it. I had no choice. My neighbor lets her dog poop on her balcony and doesn't clean it up, it's a beetle's dream. I grab a steak knife which is the closest thing to me at the time and head back outside. I would like you to envision the battle that followed. I went after it, the jerk beetle came at me like a spider monkey....but with wings....and smaller....and scarier. I was waving a knife in the air like a homicidal maniac and my neighbors were looking at me funny trying to figure out what was going on. You don't just bring out a knife in the hood for no reason. I managed to scream out the word "beetle" which brought laughter. This was not funny. My life was on the line. Eventually I chopped that beetle in half and left him on the railing as a warning to his little buggy friends.

I realize now how ridiculous this story sounds, but isn't it funny that we react like this to circumstances too? Think about it.

We can let the tiniest of events control how we react and what we do. A tiny beetle dictated how I spent my night. Something so tiny and insignificant made me uncomfortable and scared me enough to abandon what I was doing that made me happy. How many events in my life have I let dictate how I live? A lot. Think about how much time we have on this earth. Every trial we have, every obstacle we face....they seem like a big deal when we think about them. But in the grand scheme of things, they are just little blips. We attack those circumstances, fears, and trials with metaphorical knives the way I attacked that bitty insignificant bug with a real one. When you stop and think about the big picture, what's the point?

That beetle wasn't doing anything. He was straight up chillin' like all good bugs do. Our obstacles come and go and we sometimes do whatever we can to hang onto them and beat them to death. We shouldn't let them have that much of a grip on us. We become so consumed by what could happen, that we don't recognize what is happening. When we obsess about the what ifs, and the maybes, we lose sight of the good things we have. We miss out on a lot.

It seems so silly to me that I could have this huge 'a-ha' moment because of a bug and my fear of it. But truly, think about it. Think about how many times you've let simple things keep you from pursuing something. I challenge you to face those fears of the little things and next time you focus on the what ifs, turn away and focus on the here and now.