In the last few days, I've become more and more clear that when times get tough, you need a few days of breathing room. I've been thinking about those special times in my last few years... and at the time, they were just days... just regular moments. But now, after some time, they're these great memories that I share and laugh about. Every little moment builds into these great stories that I talk about when people ask about high school, about how I manage to laugh at myself. It's easy, really, I'm kind of this quirky mess with a loud voice. But I wouldn't trade it, I wouldn't trade myself... which feels really good today. These memories carry me through self doubt and catapult me into reflecting on all the goodness:
--The other day I took a seven hour nap so I was up all night and it's amazing how quiet the world is when the only thing you feel like doing is dancing in your living room.
--In high school, the worst thing I ever did was skip a day of school when my parents went on vacation. My best friend and I had a week long sleepover, and one day we just didn't go. She called in as my mom, and she also called in as her sister-in-law, and we spent the day in my basement watching movies. It's actually the perfect story of our rebellion, because we were angels back then. Sticking it to the man, one skip day at a time.
--A year ago, to the date, I was in the worst phase of my depression. I kept calling it sadness, I couldn't even say the word. On July 4th, 2012, I was sure there was no other option but sleeping away my days until someone woke me up telling me it was over. What a hard way to live...What a weird day to feel alone. But I made a few calls to really important people, and slowly but surely I started climbing out of a really deep hole. Those phone calls are the reason I did anything about my depression. Make the call. Fight for yourself. The best medicine I've ever been given is time. A year has gone by and I have no idea if I'm out of the hole or not, but I know that I'll never get that deep again. It's the weirdest feeling to look back on a year and know that I was so close to giving up. Now, today, it's not possible. There's too much good in the world, in my world. The good didn't start a year ago, it's always been there. But fog, sadness, depression... whatever that word is, it takes the light away. Now during the bad days that light never goes away... it just gets dim. Part of me wishes it would never dim, but that's life, isn't it? Finding a source of energy, of strength, when you feel your weakest. That's the stuff you write about.
--If I ever make a big paycheck, the first thing I'll do is pay my parents back for every 'I need help' call I've ever had to make. They don't know it, but I keep a journal of every time I've ever asked for money since I've been in college. It's a huge amount, and every time I struggle getting up for work I remember all that they have done to help me and how badly I want to help them back... and I do work. It's sort of lost in my suburban girl attitude that some people have never had this option. I'm so lucky. For now, that's all I can say. I'm lucky and grateful and my cup runneth over.
--Every teacher I've had, every professor, I've asked the same question: What were you're parents like? I don't know why it's my go-to question, I guess I'm fascinated by individual history. My favorite answer: The best. That's all they say. Most of them. Some of them didn't have great relationships, some of them lost a parent or both in childhood, some of them have beautiful stories of how their aunt took them in and became their parent. But my favorite answer is when they smile and take a moment before giving me the simplest answer: They were the best. I can't wait until I'm asked that question years from now. Looking back on who helped shape the person we are, it's such a treat.
--My first days of college feel lightyears away. It's funny how you can't really tell how much you've changed in a few years...but I know I'm quite different. In high school, I was so straight laced and cared so much what others thought about me. You try so hard to fit a model of what others want to see. We all do it. Wear the right brand, say the right slang, be the right person. And now, hell, you try so hard to be your own person, to create your own path. I'm so glad I've changed. I miss my friends, I miss having so much in common with so many people based strictly on knowing them for so many years. But I'm so grateful for the opportunity to really search for who I am. Does everyone get that? I hope so. I think you're forced into it, sooner or later, and you never really feel on track... But maybe that's not our fault. I mean, who says where the track is and where it should lead? Whoever labels that, they need an adjustment. They need some change, as well.
--I knew I needed to go into the arts when I auditioned for a play in high school. The audition requirement was to perform a monologue, an argument, from one perspective, and then perform a second monologue from the other perspective. I don't remember what my acting was like... but I know that I killed it in the writing department. And the moment I left the stage, I heard the directors whispering, and I just knew I had done something that in my little world was big. Bigger than an A on a test, bigger than having the right haircut, bigger than anything I had found up to that point in my life. I had stumbled upon this adventure of storytelling. Cool moment. One I hold onto when all I can seem to write is 'fuuuuuuuuck writing is hard' because sometimes your favorite things annoy the hell out of you.
--My first kiss was a gay boy. And I think my love life has accurately followed what it means to lose your first lip on lip action to a person that isn't thinking about your breasts as he kisses you. I'm not bitter.
--One time my best friend was so drunk he lost all of his clothes on the beach, including his keys, so he had to climb onto his roof naked to get to an open window. And you bet your ass (well, his pale ass) that I watched the whole thing. It's comedy gold. It's memory gold. And when I'm 70 and my grandkids ask me about college I won't tell them anything about classwork or studying, I'll tell them to remember the times you were so angry at your friends for being so drunk because it's those times, when they are saluting you with their... well... It's those times you'll look back on with pride because you've found people that are completely themselves. And that makes you a much better person.
I don't know where I'm going, and there are parts of where I've been I wish I could change. I just know I'm grateful for so many moments where the grass became greener exactly where I was standing because I worked my ass off. There are times I think I'm failing, and there are times I think I'm the only person in the world that feels this lonely. But the truth is that somewhere someone doesn't have the people I have to pull them out of their hole. So, say a little prayer (or throw a little energy) to that girl or boy. Fighting for yourself is never selfish, but it's the hardest task at hand... I can't begin to explain how choosing to fight, for me, saved my life. Fighting for anything gives you pride, and being proud of yourself is the biggest beacon of light you can find. Plus, you get to look back on a life that may be hard, long, and stressful...but it kicks ass.
Cheers to a better year. Cheers to the people who get drunk and climb their roof, and the people who will judge that story harshly. I enjoy you both. Cheers to loving what you do, and loving it hard. Cheers to time.
Cheers to you. I would be lost without so many of you, I would be lost without your words.
Thank you.
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