uhhh

what you did to me was disgusting

unforgivable

i want to tell everyone you know

i want all of our friends to know that you are a bad person

but

i'm not ready to tell anyone

i'm afraid of what you did to me

and what it means about me

it wasn't my fault

it wasn't my fault

it wasn't my fault

but maybe if i hadn't been drinking

if i had gone to bed instead of hanging out with you

if i had made one different choice that night

it wouldn't have happened

but it's not my fault

but it's not my fault

but it's not my fault

i want you to see this and know it's about you

and i want you to hate yourself for it

and it's not my fault

and it's not my fault

CW: suicide, self harm, ED

(If you don't want to read my incredibly boring and dramatic origin story, skip to the bold part.)

What's the least dramatic way to start this? Pretend I did that instead of just jumping right in, ok? Thanks.

I have some basic idea of where my negative core beliefs started. Here's a list:

1. In order to be loved, I must be skinny (ED): In fourth grade, my two best friends decided to tell me (on a very crowded school bus) that I was overweight. I told them that I knew and I would work on it, but I actually hadn't thought about my weight at all before that. I didn't know that it was something I had to be ashamed of (and it isn't!! and I still am). They probably don't even remember it, and I don't blame them for my disordered eating, but that was the first time I really believed something was wrong with me.

2. I only ever bother people, so I shouldn't speak up (anxiety): In fifth grade, two girls at my lunch table told me I was annoying. It was just another one of those passing comments that no one remembers, but it is constantly on my mind. I am cooonstantly looking for signs that people are sick of me, and I find them even when they aren't there.

3. I am unlovable (depression): In sixth grade, on a gmail group chat (yeah yes I know this sounds ridiculous), a bunch of people I knew were talking about people who had "crushes" on them. I mentioned that I had never heard of anyone having a crush on me, and one guy said, "I know someone who has a crush on you." My dummy lil eleven-year-old heart was SO excited. I spent two weeks trying to figure it out. I finally asked the guy who said it who it was, and he said, "oh haha I made it up." YIKES, amiright? Def broke my little heart and brain.

Anyway, the point is that I'm sad, ok? There are plenty of other weird ideas I have about myself that have no origin story that I can remember. While I don't have a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, I have been told by a professional that I have several of the characteristics. I have a hard time trusting people (peep that third point on the list up there). I tend to push people away as soon as I have any suspicion that they have a problem with me. I also fear being abandoned. If you have to boil down all of these things about me, the point, essentially, is that I am A Mess.

I don't pretend to be excused from the shitty things I do just because of my dumpster-fire of a brain. My poor mental health does not give me an out from the mistakes I make.

Now that we have established some of my Sad Kid character traits, I'm going to talk about the past year.

In January, I started a program for mental health at a place called Skyland Trail. I did outpatient Dialectical Behavior Therapy every weekday for 3 months to learn how to cope with feelings of hopelessness, thoughts of suicide, various forms of self harm, and more. It was incredible. I made lifelong friends and felt so much support. Part of me wishes I could still go to Skyland and get my regular dose of hope from the people there, but I guess I have to figure out how to do that on my own.

Halfway through this program, I was essentially kicked out of the house I was planning to return to in Milledgeville. I don't want to shit on all of my old roommates for that, but one in particular really ruined some of the progress I had made in developing self worth. Yikes pt. 2 imo.

Luckily, I found two new roommates/friends who are wonderful and perfect and care for me really well, so that didn't ruin my life TOO much.

Ok ok time passes blah blah blah I go back to school I bring my cat he is perfect etc. etc.

I fall back into some old eating patterns (no meals for three days, only eating at night, etc.), but my roommates are looking out for me.

I start missing some classes and falling behind, just like I seem to do every semester, and I can't believe I'm messing this up again. I'm losing hope, I'm losing friends, I hate myself, I don't know what to do. I'm self-harming almost every night. I go home one weekend. I find some prescription pain pills for the headaches I got last October. I take three. No, five. No, ten. I realize these pills won't do what I want them to do on their own. I go to bed, high on painkillers.

I tell some people. I guess they're concerned? I don't really know.

I go back to school. Six weeks go by. In that time, I start seeing a new therapist. She sucks ass, but I don't know that yet. I'm too far behind in school and I realize I need to withdraw from the semester. I talk to my advisor. I tell her I need to talk to the therapist and I have an appointment Monday. She tells me to withdraw after the appointment.

October 28th, Sunday night, I find the pills again. I take a bunch, then wash them down with too much alcohol. I don't want to do this anymore. It gets hard to breathe. I tell my roommates. One sits with me until we think it's safe for me to go to sleep.

I go to see my therapist. I tell her, "I've been trying to kill myself." She tells me to go home and get some rest?? So I ask to see someone else. She talks to someone and sends me to see him. He says, "So, [therapist] tells me you've been having thoughts of self harm?" I blink. "Um, no? I tried to kill myself last night." He says, "OH. Crap." (I tell everyone this part because it made me laugh so hard.)

I'm sent to a crisis center, then to an emergency room, then to a hospital. I'm there for five days. I fucking MISS HALLOWEEN????? I go home.

Over the past two months, I have lost friends. In the time when I needed people most, I was ignored by some of the people closest to me.

(NOTE: NOT ALL OF MY FRIENDS DID THIS AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL TO THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE STICKING WITH ME I LOVE YOU BLESS YOUR SWEET BABY HEARTS)

Uhhhh, I'd like to say things are getting better. I am seeing a new therapist and going to my psychiatrist more often. Also the dentist because we love a queen with clean teeth. Things are still really really hard and my brain is still an ass to me. I am working on it.

Probably some people will read (or skim through -- it's so long) this and say something like, "Wow, what a dramatic dumbo." To that I say, "Yes! I am very emotional and ridiculous and that absolutely comes across as dramatic. You are valid in your assessment. Ok have a good day."

Ok have a good day.

Leah: “Take me to a place! Please?”

Moto Driver, usually: “Yeah ok.”

L: “Angahe (how much)?”

MD: “Absurdly high amount!”

L: “No way! Amount that’s probably too low for the distance I’m traveling?”

MD: “Nooo. Probably the most reasonable amount that is also between the amounts we said?”

L, sometimes: “Yeah ok thanks.”

L, usually: “No. I’m not going over amount that’s probably too low for the distance I’m traveling.”

MD: “Reasonable price, restated!”

L: “I’ll find someone else. Thanks.”

MD, usually: [some sort of gesture that shows he has reconsidered]

L: “Low amount?”

MD: [nod]

L: “Thanksss.”

I was going to write about everything we’ve been doing, but the idea of that stressed me out, so I’m just going to write about my feelings. Prepare yourself.

Initial feeling: Stress.

I don’t do too well with, well...anything. New things combined with communication barriers stress me the heck out. Plus, I’ve been having weird dreams, and those can really put me into unhealthy moods. (Note to Mom & Dad: Is Beandip (my cat) ok? I had a dream where she disappeared. Also, are there monsters trying to kill you? Same dream.)

Next feeling: Discomfort.

The hardest part was definitely getting a host family. Living with strangers certainly creates an element of isolation from the comfortable. I was particularly worried before I even met my host family, because I was told they were conservative and might judge me based simply on the fact that I have a nose ring. I had a nice, long panic attack about that, only to find out that I had been switched to another family. Crisis averted.

Still, the discomfort lingers, as it does when you’re a young, dumb, angsty, anxiety-ridden teen. I wouldn’t say that I’ve really found my comfort yet, but I’m ok with that, which leads me to my next point...

Final feeling (for now): Acceptance.

I’m doing well with discomfort. I’ve found that I don’t need to be fully confident in my footing right now to stand tall. Weird.

[LCF]

Back in D.C., we collaborated with Bread for the World and got to speak to government officials or their assistants (usually the assistants) about child hunger. That was terrifying, but really good, I guess. I did some things by myself (navigation around D.C. and having actual conversations with important people about important things) that I wouldn’t have been able to do a year ago.

Sure, I still had a horrible panic attack before my first meeting (which was supposed to be a one-on-one with Hank Johnson himself ((the guy who said he was concerned that Guam would capsize, which made me concerned that I’d accidentally bring it up in the meeting)) but ended up just being with an assistant), but hey, I still did it.

During the second half of the last full day in D.C., we got to explore some.

I got to see my very favorite painting by my very favorite artist:

Andrew Wyeth’s Wind from the Sea

Pretty freaking sweet.

Here’s that one guy:

Here’s a cool pathway:

To get to the airport (y’know, the one that had a plane that would take us to Rwanda ((but Ethiopia, first, for a short layover))), we took some public transit, and the ceiling where we were waiting looked pretty dope:

I think I need to make a separate post (or two) for Rwanda so far, so here’s an abrupt ending to the D.C. blog.

Good news article title, Leah. Good one.

Explanation:

I have a disease called ulcerative colitis. Ulcerative colitis is an autoimmune disease. People with autoimmune diseases cannot receive vaccines that contain a live virus. The yellow fever vaccine is a live virus. The yellow fever vaccine is required in order to enter Rwanda. I’m going to Rwanda.

Get it?

Because I can’t get the vaccine, I have to take extra precautions (and get a buttload of things signed and written in order to let me enter Rwanda without the certificate of vaccination). Precaution 1: Treat all of my clothes with strong bug repellent. That’s what’s happening in the picture above.

This is a short post, but I just thought I’d share what’s going on as I panic to pack for tomorrow’s trip to D.C. (then, the world!).

Thanks for reading.

[LCF]

P.S. - Here’s a bonus picture that I took when I opened the camera on my laptop to take the picture of my garage.

I have a fairly vivid memory of a day in my sophomore year of high school where everything felt horrible.

I was having one of my worse days, health-wise, both physically and mentally. I think sophomore year was arguably one of my worst years. I really started feeling the impact my depression had on me, but I wasn’t fully aware of it. I thought I was just sad because I was constantly sick. It made sense to me.

I remember, on this day, that I was headed to my 4th period class (AP World History, which I dreaded), walking with my head down (just because I was always worried I’d trip or step on something gross in those nasty high school halls) in a very short hallway that connects the Bridge to the A2 hallway (sorry to those who have no clue about the structure of Tucker HS), when, for some reason, I decided to look up, and I made eye contact with a senior I didn’t really know. I started to look away (out of embarrassment that I had accidentally made eye contact with a fairly attractive stranger), but then he smiled at me. That smile seemed so kind and so genuine that I almost thought it must’ve been intended for someone else. It was such a simple gesture, and he probably doesn’t even remember it, but it meant so much to me on that day. It happened a few more times throughout the year, and somehow, I started hating 4th period a little less.

Ok, I didn’t tell that story very well, but here’s the (brief) aforementioned “Cheesy Truth” part:

A kind gesture can have such a powerful impact.

So, Andrew, if you’re reading this, thank you. I won’t soon forget how that kind smile shaped my sophomore year.

[LCF]

I accidentally made that^ joke earlier.

I accidentally walked 12 miles the other day.

The other day, Chloe (s/o to her) asked me this hypothetical question: 

If your life had a remote with one button, would it be a rewind button, a fast forward button, or a pause button?

I pretended to spend time really considering the question, because I think that’s what you’re supposed to do for hypotheticals, but I knew my answer immediately: rewind.

When I told her, she said that it made sense, because you could go back and relive all the good times you’ve had, but that’s not what I was thinking. My mind went directly to the embarrassing moments I’ve experienced, like the time I blurted “sorry” into the microphone when I messed up on my oratorical recitation in front of the entire school, or the time I forgot my last line as Mother Goose in the first grade play, the last line of the entire play, and the pause seemed to go on forever. Times where I’ve kept going with a joke past the point where it was funny and thought, hey, maybe if I just keep going with this joke, I can eventually redeem myself (I CAN’T). Times where I’ve spit food in front of that one cute guy. Times where I’ve said something I thought was funny, but those popular girls thought it was annoying. Every little embarrassing moment that only I remember, probably. 

There isn't really a concluding point to this post. It was just a thought process (and a rad pun). Ok bye.

I hope you don’t regularly read my blog, because that would really spoil the surprise.

Speaking of surprises, surprise! I’m your gift person thing. I hope that as you are reading this, you’re chuckling to yourself about the #FreePoot photo I’ve just given you while simultaneously crying fragile tears of joy and love about the other photos I’ve given you to remind you of our friendship. If not, please start now.

Seriously, though, I’m so excited about how our friendship has begun/ has grown/will be growing this year. It all began with browser searches. Look at how far we’ve come. Allow me to refresh your memory.

Well, those definitely weren’t in the right order, but I still like them. Those are most of the photos I have of you on my phone right now. I plan on having 1,000,000+ more by the end of the year. All of them just as contextually-lacking/confusing as these are.

I love you a ton, Chloe. I’m so glad we got to be in Denver together, and I can’t wait for the rest of our year together! Stay dope.

Also, DELETE IT FAT.

[Blogging is hard.]

When I think about going home for Thanksgiving, I become apprehensive for three main reasons:

 I’ve probably gained weight or something. Don’t judge me.

 I have some driving practice to get done. Yes, that’s right. I’m 18 and I don’t have my license. Don’t judge me.

 I think people are going to assume that I’ve changed and grown, but what if I haven’t? Will they judge me?

Something to address: the difference between change and growth.

I brought it up one morning in a class (Nathan wrote a blog about it after that, which I think was a good idea, so I’m doing that, too). I told everyone that, while I’m ecstatic to be experiencing this year and seeing how I grow in all areas of my life, I’m not sure I really want to change. There are things that I like about myself and would prefer to keep around, but what if these are things I’m supposed to change? Am I hindering my growth by refusing to change?

While I was talking on the phone with my mom [s/o to her], she almost immediately said that I seemed different. On the phone. Talking. Not even Skyping. She didn’t really go into detail about how I was different, and I didn’t really ask. I just assumed it was a good thing. 

So, maybe a good thing. That’s what I think the difference is between change and growth. Growth is unquestionably good, right? Change, on the other hand, can be bad. Everyone knows that. I think my problem with change is that where some people see good change, others see bad. It’s based way too much on opinions. If I chopped off all of my hair and got a pixie cut, I know a few of my friends would see that as a really good change, but I also know that some others would question my ability to make rational decisions. Even then, however, it’s a simple scenario, because all that would matter is what I thought about it. Is that true with every change? Does it only matter if I like how I change? How do my changes affect other people? If I change, but I’m in denial about it, have I really changed?

ALSO, if I become more comfortable around strangers, is that change or growth? Is it growth if I start exercising more? Is it change if I become a vegetarian? Am I growing into myself or changing into someone else if I go to rallies, write poetry, take yoga classes, get tattoos...?

If anyone has every answer to everything ever, let me know. Thanks.

[click the pictures to see them full size]

1) a light under a bridge, one of the very few places where a homeless person could go to sleep

2) under the bridge

3 & 4) pretty dope chalkboard structure where people could write their dreams for the world

5) a place called Potbelly that Claire and I have voraciously patronized

6) a building I guess

7) look ma I’m in Denver (picture by Claire)

8) with the new boo (picture by Chloe)

9) amazing street art

*I don’t know if this is actually going to be brief.

The “Take 2” part of the title is because I was writing a totally fantastic amazing wonderful brilliant post titled “A Brief* Update” when Google Chrome decided it would be a convenient time to crash. I lost everything. It was NOT a convenient time, Chrome.

I’ve never been a frequent personal blogger. That’s too much pressure. Now that it’s required of me, I’m flounderin’ hardcore. The fact that we don’t have WiFi in our house certainly doesn’t make it any easier (casual shoutout to any of the leaders who could solve that problem).

[insert smooth transition into new topic here]

I’ve talked to more homeless people in the past few weeks than I have in all the previous weeks of my life combined, and, surprise surprise, that word “people” isn’t just thrown in there for kicks. They really are people! Not only that, but so many of them are good people in bad situations. I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve heard that, right? You’ve probably even heard those exact words. When I heard that, I pictured a sad old man who had no family, or someone who had had to leave an abusive spouse. Those were the “good” homeless people. The heroin addicts and alcoholics? They were the “bad” kind of homeless people. I don’t want to go into a ton of detail about why I was wrong, but if that’s what you believe, you might be wrong. you’re wrong, too.

This next paragraph is rambly and pretty pointless. Feel free to skip it.

Denver is pretty great. The bus system is pretty easy to understand once you’ve navigated it a bit. That’s coming from someone who is spatially and directionally…unskilled. If you asked me how many people were in a room, and there were more than, say, 25, I’d probably tell you, “Fewer than 100. I think.” Do not ask me how to get from my church to my home in Tucker. I don’t know.

I don’t think I ever officially declared that I was in Denver. Guess what! I’m in Denver. Now you know.

This next part is sporadic and might be hard to follow. Sorry. I won’t be apologizing for my blog. It’s mine. I hope that’s ok with you, but if it’s not, I don’t care too much.

I started my internship with the African Community Center, which isn’t actually a community center at all. Don’t be fooled. My boss is pregnant, but she doesn’t like children. Sadly, I won’t be around to see how that plays out. On Friday, there was an intern orientation with only two other interns, both girls and both in grad school. [Note: I’m the youngest person working there, which causes me some anxiety, because if I were anyone else working there, I think I’d instinctively dislike me because I’m just a kid. Greg (the guy who placed me in this internship) said I act older than I am. I hope he’s right.] I had already been working there for almost a week by the time we had this orientation, so it was nice to learn about the causes for which I was working. I also learned that I love to learn. That would’ve been nice to know in high school, I think.

I’m at Dazbog Coffee right now with Claire, who’s also from Georgia (holla). The coffee shops around Denver are cute. I’ve read online reviews for a bunch of places, and the biggest complaints that I’ve seen mainly involved cranky old folks complaining about the existence of hipsters. It’s hilarious. Speaking of hipsters, we had a class with Greg where he explained the history of the hipster subculture. After walking around and seeing some prime examples of gentrification (holy cow, it’s everywhere!), we went to a festival called The Big Wonderful. If I had to describe TBW in a few phrases, I’d say it was food trucks, old hippies, young hipsters, and stereotypical “stoner music.” Needless to say, it was a blast. [Note for Jon, my brother: I can’t say “a blast” anymore without thinking of when you said, “Oh, I had a blast!” with your mouth full of blood and gauze after getting your wisdom teeth out.]

Whoa, ok, this is getting a little long. Some final things:

-Back at Camp KIVU, I failed on, THEN CONQUERED (a dramatic word for “completed,” not accurately representative of how well I did) a high ropes course, but there are no pictures of it (thanks, Claire).

-I’m starting to forget what 90+ degree humidity feels like, and I love it.

-I wrote this entire thing using HTML code because I don’t really know how tumblr works…

-If you hated this post, blame it on Google Chrome. It was better the first time.

Alright, that’s it for this post. How do I end this?

Let’s go ahead and get something out of the way: your airport looks like my local library. That’s absurd. It’s ok, though. Size doesn’t matter, especially when looks are as redeeming as yours.

I mean that, Durango. You’re truly beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed about you. Your mountains, streams, rivers, fields, even clouds…they’re stunning.

All of that was immediately evident. What I didn’t know, however, was how beautiful you are on the inside, Durango. Your people, for instance, are some of the kindest I’ve ever met. From cashiers, to cooks (who gave us free fries for dancing with them), to homeless travelers (who loved God and people - even those who didn’t love them well), to store owners, to complete strangers – they were all incredibly friendly! Maybe it’s something in the air…

Speaking of store owners, your shops are lovely. I could’ve spent a full day in some of them. Everything looked so hip and trendy. How do I become hip and trendy? Teach me your ways, Durango.

(Step 1: get geode jewelry.)

I can’t forget to mention your comforting environment, D. Your chilly weather, rainy days, cloudy skies, warm sunsets, and stunning night sky create an inspiring scene. I find myself spending all of my reflection time doodling. You make me want to be creative, D. Thanks for that.

D, you’ve made this gap year orientation incredible (with the help of some great leaders, a bunch of hilarious new friends, and two very challenging hikes). Thanks, D. I really appreciate your hospitality.

With so much love,

LCF

Some noteworthy…notes:

-”I call you to take seriously how beautiful you are, even with all your wounds and weaknesses and the call to honour those who are the weakest.”

-Touch the “untouchables.”

-”What once was hurt/What once was friction/What left a mark/No longer stings/Because Grace makes beauty/Out of ugly things” (”Grace” by U2)

-Live with people, not at them.

-”Kneel in front of others and say, ‘I trust you and I believe in you.’”