Suddenly Free?

When the semester ends, I always find myself walking around in a dazed state, blinking in the sudden bright warm sunlight like a bear after winter. I'm constantly confused and anxious, feeling like I should be doing something. But I shouldn't. I mean, yes, I know I'm not totally free. I have some scholarship and study abroad stuff to take care of. I should probably start revising my novel or I'll never get around to it. I should probably review orgo stuff some before I forget everything and have to relearn it next semester.

But for now, at least, I am free. And it's weird. I keep waking up at 7:30 for no reason, when I always managed to press snooze enough during the semester to sleep in until 8:00 or 8:15...

By and large, though, I'm enjoying it. I haven't watched TV, really, in months. I haven't wandered around Tumblr for weeks. I was free to watch and participate in the Project for Awesome in which I donated to receive this lovely gift from John: a new eBook! I'm still considering doing the $10 for Maureen's laughs, too. Because, heck, it's Christmas season. And I like charities. And I'm celebrating the end of the semester.

After I finished the semester by turning in my psych paper (which was a weird way to be "done") and returned my books, I had the lovely opportunity to relax on the beach and snorkel underwater with my friends--my roommate and the fish. It was wonderful to be underwater again. I love feeling like I could live and swim down there with such beautiful and fascinating creatures, even though that opportunity depends on having a hollow stick in my mouth poking above the water... ;)

And then I worked for the next three days.

But today was especially weird.

Least stressful travel day I think I've ever experienced.

I woke up at 7:30 again, because apparently now that I have nowhere I have to be, I love waking up early. I proceeded to do nothing until about 8:30 except run into my door handle and give myself a large bruise on my arm. Fun times. Ate breakfast and again did nothing until I left at 10:00 for an appointment, last Christmas gifts, and mailing of Christmas gifts. Then lunch. Aaaaaaaaaaaand...I have done nothing since then. And I still have just under 2 hours until I have to leave for the airport.

WEIRD.

Seriously, I cannot remember ever having a non-stressful travel day. Of course, when coming to Hawaii, I have to leave early in the morning. In May we finished moving stuff to our apartment before I went to the airport (and my shuttle was late, so fun). Last December was still relatively relaxed ,though it involved sitting in the airport for 8 hours because I couldn't stay in the dorms.

I have plenty of other fun crazy airport stories involving trying to get connecting flights, almost missing flights, leaving super early, etc. But basically...

What?

Since when do I have time to run errands in the morning before my flight? Since when do I not have to rush at night to make sure everything is packed for the morning? Since when do I not even have to leave for the airport until 19:00?

What is this stress-free existence?

It's very weird. But I'm enjoying it. And I'm excited to go home. So, so excited. I hope my friends stick true to their words, saying they want to hang out with me. Because I'm in desperate need of some hugs and laughs and fun memories. I've realized that my main problem this semester has been that I don't get or give enough hugs.

I absolutely LOVE hugs. I had friends in high school who I'd hug every day. One of the reasons I love HP conferences so much is the constant hugging. And I really miss it. A hug can say so much and be so comforting. It can transfer more love and emotion than words could ever do.

I'm looking forward to hugs. And cuddling with my cat. And dinners with my family. And walks in the chilly, fresh Colorado sunshine.

The ocean will be waiting for me in January, and the salt in my blood will yearn for it until then.

For now  I'm ready for some good solid loving time at home, free from stress. I hope I can rebuild my foundation of love and stop doubting myself so much. Because, after all, home is where I was reborn 2 years ago. I think know it can happen again.

Word of the day: enantiodromic--characteristic of something that has become its opposite
Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "There are those who receive as birthright an adequate or at least unquestioned sense of self and those who set out to reinvent themselves, for survival or satisfaction, and travel far. Some people inherit values and practices as a house they inhabit, some of us have to burn that house, find our own ground, build from scratch, even as a psychological metamorphosis." -Rebecca Solnit, a Field Guide to Getting Lost
Days until home: 0.71 (17 hours!!!)

Do you want to join me?

This blog post is going to be a little bit all over the place, so forgive me. I have a lot of thoughts rolling around in my brain and I need to get them down so I can squeeze myself into a corner of the library this weekend and study/write papers nonstop.

First, I would like to return to my musings on time. I know I say this a lot, but time is a funny thing.

Yesterday
Clear night skies, Christmas lights on palm trees
Walking home
From a quiet yet busy library
Where everyone ignored the books
And sat on their now modern computers

Last week
The end of November
The end of my second novel.
My second?
Or my first real one?
How do I wrap my brain
around this strange
but lovely accomplishment?

Last month
Election night
Alternating between Twitter,
MSNBC,
And my orgo notes,
cheering and celebrating in my own secluded room
with friends on twitter,
grilled cheese,
(and a little bit of wine)
to keep me company

And what else?
What about further back?

Two years.
Let's travel back two years now.
The kitchen of
The Eating Disorders Unit,
Full of friendly faces,
families I didn't know,
and strangers...
I'd be pouring my heart out to.
Two days
Two days away from discharge
And was I ready for this?
I wondered as I sat sipping my water
I felt my body get up
I ignored the people around me
Moving, dancing, gliding, soaring
All the things my words couldn't say,
My body knew at the core
Grief and love
Hope and despair
Fear and desire
Dancing, dancing,
Always dancing...
And now I could dance with them.

My basic point with those words above is that time is one of the hardest concepts to understand. Sure, we as civilizations have divided time into minutes, days, years, centuries, millenia...But how do we truly measure how much time has passed? By what the calendar says? Or by how different we feel inside?

As the beautiful song from Rent asks, do we measure the year in minutes, seconds, months...Or do we measure it in sunsets, in the late nights spent studying, in the time spent staring at the stars, in the lunches with friends...Do we measure it with love, or do we measure a year in numbers?

On Tuesdays, I always seem to feel like the week is never going to end. I have a bad habit of always "counting down" to something, whether that thing is getting out of class, the test I have next week, the party three weeks away, or how may weeks are left until home. But then Friday hits and I somehow find myself shocked to see another week pass by.

I try my hardest to live in the present, to focus truly on how I feel and what is happening right now. But I'm still not very good at it. I spend far too much time dreaming of the future, simultaneously convincing myself it will be both grand and terrifying. Which it probably will be. I have at least gotten to the point where I no longer dream of the future as being perfect, free from troubles or stress or tears. I recognize that while things may get better (or worse), life is much more complicated than that. But, sometimes I move a little too much in the bad direction, and find myself worrying about things years down the road: graduate school, where I'll live, if I'm getting enough experience in college to get the job I want, if what I'm doing now really is what I want to do for the rest of my life, if I'll ever find a relationship, etc, etc.

Are all of those things important to think about? Yes.

But are they things I should be thinking about every day, often in that hour when I can't fall asleep?

No.

However, I think it is unfortunately just part of my nature that I get overwhelmed by too many options. Deep down, I love choices and I love change. It's exhilarating and freeing to know and really feel like anything is possible  But the dark side of myself continues to see things in black and white: if I choose this, then nothing else is possible. If this turns out to be a mistake, I've wasted my life. If I don't make friends now, I'm doomed for my future. Etc.

So, going back to the last stanza of my poem, some things haven't changed since two years ago. I still doubt myself far too often. I still wonder if I have a place in this world. I still think I'm not good enough. And when I say that, I don't mean I think I'm not good enough for my parents, for professors, for potential employers  I mean, when I say that: I'm not good enough for me. I'm not the person I should be.

I guess, I just feel like the stories you always read, the stories always portrayed on TV, are those of the second or third year college student who has all of these opportunities, so many internships, a large group of friends, the best roommate, a good job relevant to her major, a close family. Often (though not always), pop culture and the media skate over those of us who are...normal.

For my psychology class, we had to read Kay Redfield Jamison's memoir on her manic-depressive illness, which was lovely for so many reasons. But one thing that really got me when I was reading the memoir was how amazing she was in college. She got to work with all of these professors, do research as a second year student, graduated and was immediately accepted into the doctoral program in psychology at UCLA, and started teaching classes at the age of 27 (I think). All while she was, yes, suffering from manic-depressive disorder. This is not to skate over the many difficulties I know she had and I know she overcame, but in a small way, her accomplishments only fed my feelings of inadequacy.

Because I'm not doing any of those things. Yes, I had an internship this summer, and yes I have a steady job working at the library. Yes, I study hard and interact with my professors in the hope to get recommendation letters from them. Yes, I do talk to my peers. But I'm not exactly "successful." Nothing I've done (so far) is going to help me get a job or get into graduate school. I'm not the college student who goes out and parties every weekend. And, most importantly, perhaps, I'm still not sure what exactly I want.

That scares me, I think. I'm not sure why, but I feel like I should have a set path and be on that path right  now. And I definitely do not have one.

I know...I know I definitely do want a job researching the oceans, spending as much time as I can in the field (focusing on sharks if I can). And I know I eventually want a relationship  But beyond that, the future is a big white blur, full of uncertainties and too many possibilities. And I don't even know how to go about getting the things I want.

Are these normal things to worry about? Is it normal to be thinking and panicking so much that I start to feel an immense pressure on my chest and start breathing faster when walking with my head down to the shuttle, worrying and worrying?

Maybe yes to the first one. Probably definitely not to the latter.

Eurgh.

I'm not exactly sure where I wanted to go from that, so I'm going to skip the well written segue and just go on to my next topic here...

Again going back to the poem, and that last stanza:

Exactly two years ago, I was performing my dance for a room full of people I loved, but also a room full of strangers I didn't know. I opened up my heart and soul and allowed tears to flow through my blood and muscles and finally out through my eyes. Two days away from being discharged, I was starting to open up my bubble to the outside world. I remember crying to Gary, afraid of taking the leap into the outside world, even though I knew deep down I needed it. I was ready to grieve, ready to live, ready to fight and fight and fight for my true self, for the person who had (and still has?) so much to offer to the world.

I took that leap. Fighting against the critical voice in my head, I jumped into the chaos of reality, armed with my knowledge and hopes and dreams and fears and memories and love. Even despite the past, I held a lot of faith. I knew faith couldn't prevent the worst from happening (again), but holding it close to my heart could buffer some of the pain and make the cycle of the universe that much more beautiful. Things were rocky for a while, but I refused to give up. Not again. I came so close to dying, I saw the other white world, and I decided I'd rather stay in this messy, emotional one full of triumphs and tragedies.

Certainly, that faith took me a lot of wonderful places. It powered me through the end of high school and IB, brought me a lovely group of girls to talk and laugh and cry with, pushed me to college in Hawaii and urged me to connect with the people I lived with. It carried me through college and all of its triggers and issues. It allowed me to continue the grieving process.

And, above all, it pushed me to realize a very important concept: no matter my weight, no matter the clothes I wear, no matter how many possessions I own, or how many acquaintances I have, I'm not going to be happy unless I allow myself to be. I hold the power to bring happiness to my life.

I still know this to be true, but I cannot help but notice that, generally, the successful people (again, at least portrayed in the media) are the attractive ones, the ones with a lot of money, or the ones with a circle of connections (ie the extroverted people).

And I am not that person. I'm not completely sure I want to be that person.

Anyway. Three years ago, I was suffering and just beginning the headlong fall into the dark chaos of anorexia and a numb mind. Two years ago, I was starting to thaw. Fall became winter became spring, and new growths were beginning to happen.

Yet, I feel like summer has yet to come. I think I lost a lot of faith in myself this summer in Connecticut, where I was met with people who neither accepted me nor truly wanted to get to know me. Coming back to Hawaii, where I found my "friends" weren't really my friends and I'd essentially have to start over the painful process of making meaningful connections, I continue to lose that faith.

No matter how hard I tried to hold on to it, I could feel it slowly dripping through the cracks in my hand, like seawater desperate to follow gravity and just fall down. Fragile and scared, I somewhere lost the strength and force to hold on to such a fickle but imperative thing.

Everything, I feel, crashed around Halloween, and even though I loved NaNoWriMo, it did little to bring my strength or faith back to me. I still feel like I'm missing something.

Definitely, this semester has been rough. I can definitely feel the pull of home, and I hope to find some rejuvenation there. Because while home does hold some bad memories, it's also ultimately the place I was reborn, the place where I found my faith and pushed fear aside. It's where I learned how to dance through life, and breathe in the beauty all around me.

In the end, I know the classic definitions of success are not going to make happy. Having money, a steady career, a solid home, and the same friends I had in my freshman year of college....These are lovely things, but do not equal happiness.

I want to sit on a roof sipping wine and watching the stars, talking about everything from Ellen Degeneres to Neil DeGrasse Tyson with someone willing to wait and watch the sunrise with me. I want to find myself bathed in sun on a boat, doing some sort of important research. I want to find my way to Africa or Patagonia and just wander around for a while with a camera and a backpack. I want to meet a wide variety of people. I want to be a person whose heart is spread out over many places, who finds home throughout the world. Of course, a steady job would be nice and money is still important. Those things will contribute to happiness.

I don't know if it is possible to obtain all of those things, but right now I will say this: I DO HAVE FAITH. I'm not unrealistic, I don't expect to find ultimate happiness, I know there will be many future stresses and tragedies and griefs. But I have faith. Life is a beautiful, strange but lovely miracle birthed from the oldest stars of our universe. Somehow, I think, everything will work out in the end. Not in the way I expect it to right now, and not in the same way for everyone. But there is hope and love and joy available for every single person on this planet. All 7 billion of us. Money, food, oil, water...these things are not renewable resources, they involve competition.

Hope and love are our most vital renewable resources though. Always.

Okay. Again, I'm not really sure what the point of this entry was, other than to get the words jumbled in my brain out onto paper. Or, really, out into a jumble of 1s and 0s that will float around the internet for possibly thousands of years to come. But you get my point. The words are out in the universe now, and I can't deny myself the truth of my feelings or thoughts anymore.

I don't know much of anything; I am willing to admit that. I find myself racing through the labyrinth every day, but I manage to make myself look up a the stars and remember to dream. I am learning, I am grieving, I am loving, and I always try to be filled with faith. I don't know what my path is or should be, and I don't know how to get through this life we are given.

But I think maybe I can start in much the same way as my character in my novel did.

I extend you my hand, across whatever distance exists between us, and ask you this:

Do you want to join me?

Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "Hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, that despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us — so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting." -President Barack Obama 
Word of the day: orotund--speaking or singing with fullness, strength, and clarity of sound or voice
Days until home: 12

Grieving, Writing, Fearing, and Living

Well, it is now December. And as December hits  I am met with an almost overwhelming mix of emotions and thoughts:

-Overwhelming and intense grief, as yet another birthday passes without his body here. I celebrate, I dance, I laugh, and of course I allow myself to cry. I spent too long denying myself the grieving process, and now that it has come, I am not going to push it away again. Laughter and tears mix and join often, as it should be.

-A sense of adrenaline mixed with sadness and confusion, as I finish my second novel, and the first one I think may actually be worth something.

-Fear, as I continue to question what I really want to be doing with my life.

-Anticipation. Home approaches.

-Loneliness, as I continue to be plagued by thoughts of not belonging and wanting to belong and not knowing how to live as the full person I know I am. 

November, truly, passed surprisingly quickly. I didn't think it would, as I have been aching for a long time now to go home and the semester felt as though it was dragging on sometimes.

But then, yesterday...December 1st. A date forever ingrained in my memory and heart, a day of grief and celebration. Mix that with the fact that I finished writing my novel on the early morning of November 30th, and my heart was kind of a mess yesterday....

Let me tell you this: anyone who says writing isn't a real job, that writing doesn't require work or make you tired, is absolutely wrong.

I'm not going to pretend my novel is some grand production. Yes, I believe some of the words are good. The ideas are fair. The emotions are very real. But, a lot will need to change. I truly hope I can get myself to revise this book and maybe look into getting it published one day (far down the road). Or, at least, hopefully I can share the words and the story with those close to me, for once letting my heart into the world at large.

I will say, though, that I poured my  heart into that novel. I didn't even realize it as it was happening. Because, yes, some days writing felt like a chore on top of homework and dealing with overwhelming anxiety (yeah, my life is sad). Some days I wanted to give up, or doubted my story. But I kept going. I plugged on, inserting pieces of myself into the heart of that story.

And when, at about 02:00 on November 30th, when I submitted my novel, I was legitimately surprised at how drained I felt. I actually started crying. Which sounds ridiculous to me, and I'm not sure I understand 100% why. But i do know the novel required a lot of me. It required a lot of thought and honesty. The words of the main character are very much the thoughts that exist in the deep places of my brain. Truly, those words are a beautiful, slightly messy extension of me and my life.

Thus, a sense of exhilaration and sadness at finishing such a big part of my life. And thus, the tears at 02:00.

Hopefully, though, this is not the end. I do want to try my best to revise this story and make it true and real and better. And, maybe I'll do NaNo again next year. It's exhausting and emotionally draining, but in the end, nothing is more rewarding than putting ideas into words composed only of letters and emotion.

And then...there's those last three things.

Fear. Anticipation. And loneliness.

I know I worry too much. I know I suffer from anxiety, which is sometimes crippling and leads to embarrassing situations when I start crying when I cannot figure something out in lab. I know, though, that I have also come so far. From where I was two years ago. I have a lot more hope now. I am able to remember the good things when everything seems to be going wrong. And I have faith things will work out.

Sometimes, though, I will admit: I'm impatient. I see all these people around me with great opportunities, hoards of friends, fantastic ideas...and meanwhile, I sit here, the introverted college student who studies and writes and dreams, but has yet to fully find her way into the world.

I think...I think maybe I need to take more risks.

I've been thinking a lot recently about whether or not I will go to Australia. I've realized my reasons not to go all involve fear.

I'm afraid I'll be wasting money. I'm afraid I won't have anywhere to live. I'm afraid I won't find friends there either, and then also won't be able to find friends when I get back to Hawai'i.

All of those are at least somewhat valid fears. But I realized I'm not focusing on my desires. I'm not listening to my heart enough. I need to.

The bottom line? I want to go to Australia. Deep in my heart, I believe it will be good for me. Like the girl in my story, my true passion is travelling, seeing the world, and letting myself develop and grow in a multitude of places. I want to see the people I can meet and the opportunities I can grasp. I want to, for once just f***ing take that risk, live big and wide and true. The money is an issue, yes, but it's not so expensive that it is out of my grasp, especially if I can find other grants. Yes, the living situation is a HUGE issue, one that will stress me out greatly in May, for sure.

But maybe, like my dad said, I should just take the risk. And trust that everything will work out.

And if it doesn't? Well, it's not the end of the world. If I don't allow myself to make mistakes or take risks, I'll never grow.

Maybe I'm scared because Connecticut wasn't so great this summer. It was a big risk, and I didn't enjoy it much. But really, I learned a lot this summer. Not the things I was expecting to learn, but a lot nonetheless. Again, yes, I could've made more money back at home and stayed closer to friends. But, as awful as I felt sometimes, as lonely as I felt, it was a great experience. In the grand scheme of things.

Besides, if I don't at least try to change and take risks, I really cannot expect anything to change, can I? I am lonely. I am having a hard time reaching out in Hawai'i, because this living situation sucks and I'm scared and I'm tired and I feel like people don't accept me or want to know me.

So maybe it's time to leave. Take a risk, offer myself to a new place and see...what happens? That's all I can do. The worst that can happen is I lose a little money and don't gain any new friends.

And the best that could happen? New experiences in a new ocean. New friends. Education. Journeys and adventures. Future work opportunities. Studying in a beautiful place. Learning about myself. Loving myself. Finding people who love and accept me. Discovering and molding into a new culture.

The list goes on. :)

I am afraid. I am lonely.

But most importantly, I know I'm not currently living as my true self, and that pains me more than anything.

So maybe it's time for a change.

A deep breath, a pause on the edge of the cliff with my arms spread wide.

Close my eyes. Trust my heart. Keep the starlight with me.

And jump off into the abyss.

Fall, rise, fall, rise, and maybe eventually I'll find myself free, flying, loving, living. As the real person I know I absolutely am.

Word of the day: erlebnesse--The experiences, positive or negative, that we feel most deeply, and through which we truly live; not merely experiences, but Experiences
Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "The interesting thing about grief, I think, is that it has its own size. it is not the size of you. It is its own size. And grief comes to you. You know what I mean? I've always liked that phrase, "He was visited by grief," because that's really what it is. Grief is its own thing. It's not like it's in me and I'm going to deal with it.  It's a thing, and you have to be okay with its presence. If you try to ignore it, it will be like a wolf at your door." -Stephen Colbert
Days until home: 17ish

Some wishes for you on the big 2-0

My dearest Nick,

Today would be your 20th birthday. Can you believe how far all of us have come? Happy birthday, my love.

Time truly does pass too quickly. It's hard to believe it's been three years now. Three long years.

Today is both an infinitely wonderful day, a day of celebration and joy and wonder, and a day to grieve. I do not necessarily believe anymore that the two things should be separate. Grief takes its own shape, visits and passes in its own time. Life moves on around grief, and thus, celebration will always coexist with grief, love with hate, wonder with sadness.....

I can't help but wonder where you would be today, Nick. Playing soccer in college? Coming up with crazy pranks to brighten someone's day? Spreading your smile and light and spirit around a new place?

Yes, probably all of the above.

But the amazing thing is, even from so far away, even living as you do up on that deep painting sparkled with light, you are doing that last thing. You continue to spread your light and spirit around the world. I miss you and feel you and think of you in places your body never walked, but where your spirit now flies freely. You are travelling the world with us Nick, and you are travelling the universe on your own. I hope I can join you there one day.

Though I continue the grief process every day, though I miss you every day, I try to focus as much as possible on the positive.

You lived so much, my dear. So, so much. In your 16 short years, you touched the hearts and minds of more people than you could possibly imagine. With your gentle smile and easygoing, welcoming spirit, you attracted people to you with your electric field. And people didn't let go. I know I didn't.

Though we didn't interact on a face-to-face level once I continued with IB and you did not, I want you to know...I held on to your electric field. I held on to the memories of your friendship and love and laughter. I always knew where you were in the hallways, and your smile could brighten even the toughest of days for me. Here was this boy, this young man, who was so carefree and happy, who really understood what it meant to live. I tried to absorb as much of that spirit as I could. And always, I will remember you. I will remember your jokes in class, how I would carefully help you through tough concepts in classes, how much fun you and Michael made French class...

You continue to be one of the most amazing people I have ever had the privilege to share this life with. And I am so grateful for that.

Mostly, that's what today is for me: a day of grace and love and celebration. For while your physical body is gone, while I will never see you grow up, or see your smile cross your face again, I know this: You are not gone. Energy cannot be created, and energy cannot be destroyed. You are invincible. We all are invincible. Our energy merely manifests in a different form and continues to travel the universe as bright, bright starlight, burning fires to create new elements and opportunities for light.

I don't know if I've done the best these past months to live, but I try. I try, and I remember your faith and love for everyone you encountered. You were not perfect, but you did not expect to be. Nor did you expect those around you to be. But you persevered, kept pushing, triumphed, failed, got up again, collaborated with people, made teams, made memories, shared tears and laughs...All the while, keeping that optimistic and contagious smile on your face.

So, that's what I try to do. I keep your spirit close to my heart, and to me you are not truly dead. I miss you, and I cry at night still, but I know I will forever carry a piece of you with me. Because of that, this piece of you will never leave this world. Not really.

Thank you. So much. For being a part of my life, both physically and, now, spiritually. You taught me so much and continue to teach me so much. Every day, when I look down at my arm, I think of you and smile. You are free, you are loved, and you are beautiful. Forever and always. Goodbye is not forever. I look forward to the day when our energies cross paths again, in whatever manifestation that may occur.

For now, know I celebrate you every day. I cry for you and laugh for you, and with you.

And still, I love you. I love you I love you I love you. Always.

Dreaming of Ochem

I felt the need to record this dream because it just felt so ridiculous. I never do this, mostly cause I'm not the best at remembering the details of my dreams, but, I'm going to write down what I do remember.

Last night I dreamed I was doing an ochem lab.

Yes. SERIOUSLY. I dreamed I was doing some sort of chemical reaction (I honestly have no idea what), and then when I went to write up the lab report, I realized I'd completely missed doing the most important part of the lab.

Again, I don't really remember what, but I do remember that for some reason part of the procedure was to take blood samples from different people and test that blood with the chemical product you created. (WTF?) And, in my dream, I didn't do this. I was reading the procedure and my dream-self was thinking that sounded so ridiculous: how was it even possible to do that in a college lab?

Befuddled, my dream-self then asked my lab partner if she had done that part of the lab, assuming maybe it was a joke. And she said she had, of course!

To which my dream-self responded, "What, you just walked up to people on the street and asked them for their blood?"

And she said YES.

After that, all I remember is my dream-self freaking out about not doing that part of the lab and wondering if I could possibly get and test my samples before the lab was due.

Then I woke up (at 5:30 this morning, no less), and I actually had to sit there for a minute and tell myself that the dream wasn't real. I never did that lab.

However, I do have two lab reports for ochem to write over this long weekend, and yes, I am freaking out about them because that class is far too stressful.

So, welp, at least my unconscious brain is reflecting the stress I feel in real life.

But ochem lab has officially taken over my brain. Ugh.

We'll see if I take the second part of the lab next semester. We'll see.  I have 2 months still to decide.

Zzzzzzzzzzzz....

I'm so tired now. But hopefully I can look back at this dream and just laugh hysterically. Because it sure was ridiculous.

Harry, A Home

So, following my election excitement and adrenaline rush, I basically fell back into that same lonely feeling I posted about...roughly a month ago now. I keep kicking myself mentally, because everyone around me says it should be so easy to make friends. A lot of adults I talk to say that I should just go up to someone, invite them for coffee or dinner or just start talking.

To which I respond by running away and saying Whooooooooooooaaaaaaa.

Okay, not literally. But you get the idea.

It honestly is not that easy for me to make friends. So big is my anxiety at meeting new people that I avoid going to new things by myself, even things I think I might enjoy, like NaNoWriMo meetups or club meetings.

I actually had this huge post I meant to post after Halloween, but the basic message behind that story is that: I AM A HUGE INTROVERT. I'm not shy, I don't think those are the same thing. I actually really love talking to people and being around people and listening to them. Btu I get very easily overstimulated by outside forces, hence why I get uncomfortable at parties. Or the awful place that was Waikiki on Halloween night. And couple my introversion with my anxiety? Bad, bad combination.

The thing is, though, that I am perfectly capable of being happy in a crowd. I have to remind myself of that. It depends on what mood I am in, how much I want to be at that place, etc. When I'm happy and comfortable with myself, I can usually do just fine in a crowd, telling myself I'm okay. But lately, due to the fact that the majority of my friends from last year abandoned our friendship, I have become increasingly uncomfortable with myself. The voice in my head keeps whispering "You're not good enough for them," and I cannot help but believe that voice. I'm uncomfortable being myself around new people, since clearly that did not make people want to be friends with me beyond the walls of the dorms. So, rather than putting myself out there, or trying to be something different, I have increasingly found myself secluded in my apartment, reading and writing and doing homework. And, occasionally, breaking into a crazy dance party. ;)

Anyway. That was a larger build up than I meant to write.

Last weekend was a long weekend, and it was weird, because I actually didn't have anything big due this past week. Yes, I had to work, and yes I had to go to an AA meeting. I got ahead on some parts of lab reports, looking up study abroad info, etc. But mostly...I spent my time reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and listening to old PotterCasts.

Man, I mean, it was almost automatic. My whole life, Harry Potter has led me through dark and sad times, ever since I was a little scared seven year old who'd just moved to a new state. Harry Potter led me through my parent's divorce, through my eating disorder, through incredible losses in my life. No matter what else, was going on in my life, Harry and his friends were always there beside me, ready to accept me and allow me a place on their adventure.

So, again, as I found myself in this lonely place, it was almost automatic that I fell back in. I picked up that book last Sunday, feeling as if it had been calling to me. And somewhere along the way I found my way back to Pottercast, listening to the old shows from 2007 and reminiscing in the beauty of the Harry Potter fandom. Throughout this week, rather than using the internet when I needed a break from homework, I just dug my nose into that book, crying and laughing and hoping all over again. I mean, this is probably like...the 8th time I've read Deathly Hallows or something, but I still found it just as beautiful and welcoming as always.

Out here in Hawaii, I've unfortunately fallen out of the fandom life in a way. I don't have the money any more to attend the conferences, and no wizard rockers come play concerts here. So, I'd kind of forgotten how beautiful and lovely the fandom is for me.

I wrote this lovely post about 15 months ago now, and I still very much believe in every word I wrote back then.

Hogwarts is a real place. It's a real feeling, at least: a feeling of being welcomed and loved and accepted regardless of everything. A place where hugs are constant, squees can be heard all around, and no one makes fun of how you can't really dance. Magic is still very, very real in our world: friendship, love, starlight, music, books written on a page carrying a story across generations....

It just really struck me. I was reminded of the fact that I DO have people who love me and care about me. I have people who accepted me and still talk to me, despite our distances. I was a very shy 15-year-old when I first attended Terminus in 2008, but I immediately  had people who wanted to talk to me. They were overjoyed to talk to me, attend my presentation, share our nerdy opinions, dance to wizard rock like crazy. Even "famous" people, like the wizard rockers, Melissa Anelli, etc, were always excited to talk to us normal folk. ;)

I miss that a lot. I really do. But it gives me hope. I have found my people before in the past, people who love me. People who want to laugh with me but who are also incredibly supportive, nonjudgmental, and willing to listen and cry as well. Because we are all so similar in temperament and passionate hearts, and we know how it feels to be left out or bullied.

It's funny, because the years I spent the Harry Potter fandom were the same years I spent suffering from my eating disorder. 2007-2011. I attended LeakyCon just 3 months after first being discharged, and I attended Wrockstock IV while I was still in the hospital, getting treatment. But those times are still some of the happiest times I can remember in my life. Despite everything, here was a place I was loved and accepted: Hogwarts. It was real, not just a place that existed in my imagination.

I still find so much joy and love in the Harry Potter books. I wish i could play a more active part in the Harry Potter fandom still today. But even though I cannot, I will never forget my conferences and wrock concerts. I will always carry with me that love and hope and joy. I am forever grateful for everything I gained from my friends in the fandom, and from my "friends" in the Harry Potter books. I learned so much about love and loss and courage and trust from those books and my experiences in the fandom.

What Jo said in 2011 is true.  Hogwarts is always there to welcome me (us) home. In my time of loneliness and sadness, feeling forlorn and hopeless at the prospect of ever finding "my people" again, Harry beckoned me back in, to go on an adventure.

I will be forever grateful to Jo. Quite literally, she changed my life and allowed me a place where I found confidence and love for myself.

I hope I can continue to hold on to that. I hope someday soon I become comfortable with the person I really am, and start to express that self to the outside world again.

That being said, I am still forever grateful to the friends who have not let go, who continue to love me for the person I am, after many years. You know who you are (if you are reading this, you may be one of those people. Hint.)

I'm going to continue searching and loving and spreading my heart far and wide. I may be afraid of a lot of things, but I desperately want to live and love and make a difference in this world. I need to remind myself mistakes are okay, and that who I am absolutely is enough. It may not be enough for the people I currently share my time with, but eventually, I'll find my people again. I'll find my people who prefer sharing nerdy jokes and going hiking and swimming in the ocean, laughing and reading and dancing like crazy to the best music. I'll find my people who accept that I'm the quiet, introspective girl who loves to listen and wants to share her story with those she trusts.

I will, won't I?

I certainly hope so.

Until then, I always have Harry. A home. A home beyond everything else in this world of ours.

Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "Loneliness does not come from having no people around you, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to you." ~ Carl Jung (I may have used this quote before. Forgive me if I have)
Word of the day: concupiscible--worthy of being desired
Days until Colorado: 33

Election Reflections: REAL LIVE CHANGE

So, I'm going to propose something that may seem crazy here:

Whether or not you like Obama or think he's a good president (dealing with economy, healthcare, foreign policy well), this past Tuesday was still a turning point in our country's history.

I'm sure Republicans and conservatives will not agree with that statement, regardless of any explanations I give in the rest of this post. But, oh well. Nothing much I can do about that.

Again, before I keep writing, go watch this video from Rachel Maddow and read this brilliant CNN article. Because, you know, I like to spread the things I find.

Now, of course, I do love Obama. I think he has done amazing things for our country. And, as Rachel Maddow says, he's been the most successful Democratic president now since FDR. I absolutely think our country and the world will continue to grow and develop so much with him leading us. He's not just an amazing leader, but he's a genuinely good-hearted person. I need only watch the beautiful video of him crying thanking his volunteers or pictures of him lovingly spending time with his daughters to know he really is a good person at heart. Also, his acceptance speech was one of the best speeches I have ever heard.

The best summary I read following his re-election was in the Honolulu Star Advertiser, with one voter noting, "I think Hawaii, more than maybe other parts of the country, appreciated what Obama has always been trying to do, which is to take care of your ohana."

Wow. As someone who has lived in Hawaii for over a year now, that statement is so true and so powerful for me. Obama truly sees every person in our beautiful country as part of his family, his ohana, and he wants to make sure no one gets left behind. He wants to make sure everyone has opportunities and equal rights. He wants to make sure we all keep moving forward.

All of that love being said, I would like to urge everyone to remember Obama is not perfect. He inherited a lot of problems from the disastrous Bush administration. The world, especially the Middle-East, is changing around him, and he has to adapt to disasters and threats and economic problems. So before anyone jumps to judge him for not following through immediately on his promises, remember 2 things:

1) He is human
2) He has already done so much for our country

Anyway. Moving on. I was worried on Tuesday that the election would be really close, and I expected it to take hours to declare a winner. When Ohio was called, I almost didn't believe it. I was in the middle of wandering around Twitter when I suddenly realized everyone was projecting Obama the winner. I almost didn't believe it.

I was ecstatic, but that wasn't the end for me. I know a lot of people may have just waited to see who had won and gone to bed (I think it was pretty late on the East Coast at this time? I don't know. It was still only 21:00 when Obama gave his speech here).

I, however, along with all the friends I follow on Twitter, was waiting to see what else would happen. So much more was at stake.

And guess what? On Tuesday, we showed the world, the country, the Republicans, just how much our country is changing.

We voted for marriage equality in four different states. Twenty women were elected to Congress. The first lesbian woman, Asian-American senator, disabled veteran, and this amazing woman: Tulsi Gabbard. Marijuana legalization was approved by voters in two states. We beat down every single man who made such ridiculous claims on rape, "legitimate" rape, and pregnancy.

We showed the world, that, yes, everyone has rights. Women can choose for themselves. Gay people are no different, at heart, from any of the rest of us. In three states, it's no longer "gay marriage" or a "civil union," but simply MARRIAGE for everyone. And we not only elected, but re-elected an African-American president. Healthcare will continue to be a right for everyone. Education and opportunity will continue to be open. Students, young people, women, Hispanics, African Americans, Asian Americans have more of an influence in this country today than white men, who are currently crying about being a minority. Because they know how they treat other minorities? Perhaps.

My favorite statement from Tuesday's events? Someone who, on Tumblr, said, "Relieved to wake up in 2012--was worried it'd be 1954 again."

Basically, my heart was bursting with love and joy and hope for our country on Tuesday night. As each victory kept rolling in, I got more and more loopy from happiness (and a slight lack of sleep). I continued to walk through the rest of the week genuinely excited and happy and proud, still, of where I lived. Proud of what my generation is doing to change the world.

I will never be able to voice my opinions or views on what Tuesday meant as articulately as Rachel Maddow or that CNN journalist, but the bottom line?

So much progress is coming to our country right now. Just 20 years ago, everything that happened on Tuesday would have been completely unimaginable. AIDS was still the disease of the gays, that no one wanted to talk about. Gay couples could only dream of being offered acceptance or understanding in our society. White men still ruled our country and politics. 

But we're changing all of that.

And I really mean it. So many people refuse to vote because "well, my vote doesn't really matter." And, well, if you are referring to deciding who actually becomes president, then yes, your one single vote doesn't hold very much influence. But, also, if the only reason you want to vote is to decide who becomes president, you are not grasping what voting really does.

Voting is a way to make our voices heard. Voting allows us, as citizens, to make a difference. We vote on laws and congressmen and governors. We vote for change and hope and what we believe in. And, as we saw on Tuesday, those votes can change EVERYTHING. And truly move our country forward.

Don't let go of that. Don't forget the amazing feelings of pride and happiness and love that poured out on Tuesday. Change is happening, and it is very real. But we need to continue to go to the voting booth, continue to fight for equality and our rights, in order to keep the ball rolling. We, as a generation, are showing the world, showing the politicians, just what American really is today.

One final thing: On Tuesday night, several of my Republican friends on Facebook bemoaned the fact that we were all celebrating and wished we'd all just shut up about it now that our guy won. One even said we were being "sore winners." As much as I genuinely like some of those people as friends, I have to disagree with them.

First, please don't stop our celebrating mere hours after our guy won. That's a little ridiculous. You know you'd be celebrating just as much if Romney had won. And, in the days since the election, most of us have not been celebrating Obama as much as we are celebrating all of the change that happened on Tuesday. Allow us to be happy. This change is important, whether you like it or not.

And second, I would like to propose something: If all of this changed so quickly, if your party was so shocked and dismayed, maybe your party needs to change. Live with the changing tides. The Republicans lost not necessarily because of their economic or foreign policy views, because the fiscal conservatives will always remain loyal to their ideas. But the Republicans lost because they refuse to recognize how much American is changing and still needs to change. They are afraid of white, rich men becoming a minority. Fine. But if you want to win, if you want to give your economic policies a try, you need to move a little bit more toward the middle on social issues. You need to realize the importance of women and students and Hispanics.

Because like it or not, the majority of the nation showed you that America has changed. And you are going to have to change with it to make a difference.

Anyway. I am just really happy with what all of us did in the past few months. Today, we are proudly showing the world that yes, we still are the country of liberty and equality and progress. But we cannot lose that. We mus always keep fighting, every single one of us.

And vote. Because yeah, we really do make a difference.

 

Still one of my favorite pictures. Love this family.

Why I Voted for Obama: Reflections of a First-Time Voter

Okay, so before you read the less elegant but still completely heartfelt words of an almost 20-year-old first time voter, I want to point you to some brilliant articles and videos concerning this year's election:

John Green's Reasons for Obama
The New Yorker's Endorsement of Obama

Okay. So now that I've put out a few much more intelligent writings about why Obama is a good president, I'll give you my own reasons. I know any friends of mine who read this blog either 1) Have already voted or are definitely going to vote for Obama 2) Are definitely going to vote for Romney and there's no way I can change your mind or 3) Are not going to vote (this is a whole other issue, but since the registration deadline has long passed, one I can no longer fix).

That being said, I hope this blog entry can reach out to just one undecided voter, or one registered voter who thought they weren't going to vote. I understand that in our current political climate, it's easy to get disillusioned by our country and decide not to vote at all because (in the words of my roommate) "Both candidates suck." But, that is a mistake. Maybe you don't like the economic plans of either guy. Maybe you like the economic plans of one but not his social plans. Maybe you wish you lived in Canada. Maybe you have NO idea what any of the issues really are. But regardless of your reason, I cannot impress on you enough how important it is that you vote. It is your responsibility as a citizen of our nation, and your opinion matters. Maybe one vote won't change the whole election, but the message you send to the candidates, your neighbors, the world, and yourself by voting is absolutely important.

Now, I will admit that voting came naturally to me. I registered to vote last November when I finally remembered I was over 18 and could now vote. My dad taught political science at the Air Force Academy, ran for office in 2010, and is currently the Public Trustee of El Paso County. My stepmom studied and taught international relations. As a family, we spent long hours volunteering for the Obama campaign, the Pete Lee campaign, and the Hal Bidlack campaign. I participated in the IB program in high school, which emphasized the need for cultural and political intelligence.

So yes. I come from a political background. Many of you probably don't. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't vote.

I will freely admit that I do not understand as much about our economic policy, healthcare policy, or foreign policies as I probably should. I'm not a student of either political science or international relations. I'm a scientist and a dreamer. But I know what I have heard, I know what I have seen, and I know what I feel in my heart.

And I feel that Obama has done great things for our country. Here is an exhaustive (and slightly entertaining) list of what Obama has done in his four years. I may not understand every detail of our economy or our foreign relations. As a student with very little money, I am (understandably) biased toward the middle class owing less to the government. And yes, I do get a lot of my political knowledge from both my parents and the brilliant John Green.

But I think for myself. Yes, my parents influenced me growing up, as I watched them vote for and support the Democratic candidates I was seeing in the debates on TV. That being said, when I watched those debates, I didn't just blindly agree with the Democrat because my parents did. I listened, truly and intently, to what every candidate was saying. And I just naturally sided more with the Democrats. I didn't understand how the policies the Republicans put forward would help our nation to grow. I didn't like their social conservatism, and their ideas that not everyone was equal, despite what our Constitution says.

Sure, I don't agree with every Democratic measure. I certainly wish Obama would focus more on science than he does, because I truly believe scientific growth offers an enormous amount of economic and world growth to America. And when it comes to foreign policy, I remain largely undecided as to how we should act in the middle east. On the one hand, I think Obama is doing a good job (or at least a better job than Bush ever did). But on the other hand, I wonder how much we should get involved in their politics at all. It's a tough gray area for me, so I won't say that's a main reason I'm voting for Obama.

Anyway. I have ranted long enough, so let me get down to my reasons why this first-time voter voted for Obama on Tuesday (yay early voting!). These are not in order of importance necessarily, but merely in the order of when I thought about them.

1. Social policies.
Now, I will say this reason is perhaps the most important reason for me. I strongly believe that gay couples should have the right to get married. Not just a "civil union" but an actual marriage. I honestly do not understand the religious objections. Or the people who claim the definition of marriage is just between one man and one woman, who are clearly wrong. Obama has done so much to promote equality, and I honestly do not think I would be able to stand having this nation go backwards as far as its acceptance of gay couples.

More personally important, I strongly disagree with the Republican view of women's rights. Take away our right to contraceptive care, try to create "legitimate rape," reduce our access to jobs, healthcare, and opportunities...Where are we again? The 1800s? Or is it really 2012? Do we live in America, or did we suddenly get transported to an Afghanistan ruled by the Taliban? I cannot stand men thinking they can make the decisions for women. I could rant on and on about this subject for hours. Just a few days ago, this was a topic we were discussing in my online political science class, and I just kept writing my opinions. I had to stop and think, "when did I become such a feminist?"

When? When men decided women did not have the same rights as everyone else. When men such as this crazy guy decided rape was a "gift from God." When men decided they could decide not to be a father (condoms) but women couldn't decide not to be mothers. When politics decided it could get involved in a woman's uterus. And when all of the rights women have fought so hard for face the very real threat of being stripped away by Paul Ryan and Mitt Romney.

I fear for a world, an America run by those to men, and their team of conservative Republicans. I fear for myself, for any daughter I may one day  have, for my mother, my grandmother, my stepmother, my sister, my friends. I fear for my dad, and for men around the world. I fear for every single women in every single country. Because if America is truly as influential a country as we all think it is, what kind of message do we send to the world when we start stripping away the rights of women to control their own health?

We tell third-world nations that we approve of their policies of "criminal abortions" (jail time for women). We tell women everywhere that they have to get dangerous, back alley abortions in order to save their lives. And we tell every woman, including ourselves, you don't matter. I cannot imagine letting today's young girls inherit that world. It breaks my heart.

(Enough of that ranting...)
2) Science, energy, technology, and education.
As a scientist, these issues are second most important to me. And while I am disappointed by how little Obama has done in office to promote science and technology, I'm pleased with what he has done. He continues to support scientific research. He promotes depending less on foreign oil and trying to create new jobs here in America in the clean energy sector. Yes, I wish he would give NASA and NOAA more funding. But at least he strongly supports scientific education. And, more importantly, he supports education for everyone.

I know this is a touchy subject, but I believe college should be cheaper for everyone. In most of Europe, college is free or at least very very cheap. I know, a lot of older adults argue that "well, I had to work three jobs and borrow money to make my way through college, so that's what you have to do!" To which I say...mmm, maybe we don't have to. Yes, it's important to work. But, no, college graduates should not be left with so much debt and so little job opportunities. I think there's something to be said for a nation that supports and promotes higher education so much that the populace is willing to spend just a little bit more tax money to fund the next generation. The next generation of ideas. The next generation of scientists, engineers, businessmen, politicians, artists, and foreign leaders who can bring real and lasting change to our country and build our economy.

3) Healthcare. 
We now move into the ideas I understand less well. I don't know much about the healthcare plans, but I know that Obamacare lets young people keep their healthcare until they are 25, which, under our current economic climate, is hugely valuable. I know that Obamacare makes hospital care more affordable for everyone. And I know it's not turning us into a socialist country. I've had the unfortunate experience of being hospitalized (near-death) and being lucky enough to receive the care I need at a low cost. I know how hard it is for people to find insurance if they have a pre-existing condition, even if it's a hereditary one they cannot choose.

I, like John Green, believe healthcare is a right. not a privilege. And lucky for me, so does Obama.

4) The economy. 
Again, I only recently really began to understand our economy thanks to that above John Green video. This may be my weakest area, but...I believe that those who make more should pay just a little bit more. I believe that the "47%" (which I am a part of) is not an irresponsible and needy group, but an extremely valuable and productive piece of America. I think there are many more important ways to cut the deficit than by stopping PBS funding.

Unfortunately, that's about where my economics knowledge dies. So if this is a huge concern for you, read the news. That's what I do.

5) Foreign policy. 
Now, again, I don't really know where I stand concerning the Middle East. And, currently, many countries in the middle east also don't know how they feel about America. But, Obama ended the war in Iraq. He started and has set a completion date for the war in Afghanistan. He has been far more friendly to our allies in Europe and Asia than Bush ever was. Certainly, the rest of the world likes Obama. For all of his shortcomings, Obama is a good guy. He's honest, apologetic when need-be, intelligent, and kind. He's very personable, and he is sure to respect other cultures.

Beyond that, I think it is hugely important that we have a president who understands geography and knows Iran already borders the sea. It doesn't need Syria to access the sea.

 

6) Immigration. 

Again, not a topic I am too well-informed about, but I know Romney's "voluntary deportation" is ridiculous. I want the DREAM Act to be passed. And if you think otherwise, I urge you to watch THIS FILM. 

Those are my top six reasons. I believe in equality, and Obama does too. He has done a lot over the past four years. I think our big problem as a nation is that we expect too much from our presidents. No president will be able to do everything he promised. World events, like the Arab spring, will get in the way. The opposing party in Congress will knock down bills. At the end of the day, Obama is a human being, with a wife, a family, and the same worries as the rest of us. 

I'm not saying Mitt Romney is evil. But he scares me. He scares me because I don't think he knows what he believes (cue Romnesia references here) and also I don't think he truly understands the importance of giving rights to everyone. And for all of my strong opinions on women's rights, education, and healthcare, I can understand why some people may choose, in 10 days, to vote for Romney. 

But he's not the right choice for me. And I strongly believe he is not the right choice for America.

I urge you to take into consideration what I have said. Really think about what you believe. And vote according to those beliefs. Read up on the candidates. There is still time to make a difference. Consider the importance of women's rights, gay rights, an equal and balanced economy, and a friendly world.

In the end, please consider Obama. He can and will do so much more for us in four years. We cannot afford to go backward, socially or economically.

Hope and change are still very much alive. And the powers of change exist in our hands, the hands of young Americans. Voting may seem tedious, politics boring, elections unimportant. But if you really stop to think about how much power you hold in your hands, how much of a difference your voice can make not just in our country but around the world, I think you will realize how exciting it is to vote.

Women for Obama. Young Americans for Obama. Nerds for Obama. 

Me for Obama.

Vote. Do it today, or do it on the 6th. But don't let your voice get lost. 

Fears, Doubts, and (Sad) Realizations

Well hello there internet (and anyone who happens to read this). I cannot stress enough how much I always mean to write down my thoughts here, but never do. It's ridiculous. I mean, yes, I am extremely busy. I have a lot of homework to do. But wouldn't it be more productive in the long run to take breaks in homework by writing in here (even if I do it in 15 minute intervals instead of all at once) than by watching old vlogbrothers videos or surfing through Tumblr? Yes. Yes it would. And yet, I know that if I don't write, I can continue to avoid the anxieties, worries, etc plaguing me at the current time. And while I know that I shouldn't do that, I know how that affects me, it is oh so tempting. And so I don't write. I avoid, and then I just continue to worry in my head.

But. Not tonight! I have decided that since I did do a LOT of homework over the weekend, and since I happily discovered all my files on my flash drive were not lost (thank god), I can let myself sit down and write about how I've been feeling over the last month month or so. I mean, yeah, I probably am going to write a couple paragraphs, study a little, write a little, study a little, and repeat until this is finished and studying has progressed significantly. But I need to write. Yes, legitimately and literally need to.

Anyway. It's been a bit of a rough transition back to Hawai'i, I will openly admit. And by that, I mean that I think I discovered who my friends really are, and unfortunately it's not most of the people I hung out with last year. They don't seem to care enough, like me enough, think I'm "cool" enough to want to hang out with if it isn't convenient. My dear roommate still very much seems to enjoy hanging out with me, and I've maintained a few dorm friendships, but by and large I've been incredibly lonely. It's hard for me to make new friends now, especially when everyone in my classes already seems to have their groups of friends. And they aren't looking for new friends, at least not openly. I don't like the prospect of being the "new" girl who no one knows. I've been trying. I talk to people in my classes, I've started hanging out a little with people in my oceanography class, I played Quidditch at the end of September. I'm not completely alone.

And yet...I feel endlessly lonely. Why?

Because I don't have anyone I can talk to about the serious things anymore, it seems. Especially when you first meet someone, you don't try to talk to them about the things that really matter, like how they are feeling, what's going on in their life, what makes them cry or smile or laugh. But as I have said before, I crave that. I crave to ask the questions that matter. I want to look at the guy I hang out with on the boat and ask him how the ocean really makes him feel. I want to tell someone how sad I am. I want someone I can run around with at night, even if it's raining. I want to move away from the daily grind of weather, homework, and work.

I want something more.

But I don't know how to get there. I'll admit it, I'm scared of people not accepting me. I wish I could not care what other people think, but when I'm this lonely, I do. I want to be accepted and loved by people. And when so many "friends" have left me when they find cooler people to hang out with, I have a hard time trusting the idea that just being myself is enough. I feel like I have to change for other people. I don't want to, but I feel pressured. And so I'm not only lonely, but scared. And unable to live as the person I really am.

So I find myself missing home a lot. I miss my group of inspiring, heartfelt, and endlessly accepting young women. I miss my parents, who truly do love me no matter what happens. They know who I am, the good and the bad, and accept it all.

I haven't found my people here yet. And I'm afraid I won't. I wonder if this is the right college for me, but I'm too scared to leave.

Noticing a pattern? Yeah. I'm scared. Endless pattern in my life.

Recently, one of my dear friends, stuck in an abusive relationship, attempted suicide. I am so grateful she told me and reached out for help, but it reminded me of how fragile we all are. I have met so many beautiful people through eating disorder treatment, but each one of those people, including me, is just a touch more fragile than most other people I know. We feel deeply, love slowly, and hide our pain in the most invisible ways. I honestly don't know how I would react if I lost another friend, especially one so close. One who accepts me and loves me and knows me far better than anyone here in Hawai'i. But I don't think I would react well. I took me a year to come to a sense of peace about Nick's death, and I still miss him every single day. I'm scared, now more than ever, of losing another beautiful soul in my life. I love the stars, but I want the souls of my friends down here on earth for as long as possible.

This past Friday, I was walking through the grocery store, when a man spoke to me. He was just asking me a question about sharks, he was incredibly kind and sweet. And yet, I jumped. Have I become so used to being ignored by everyone around me that my body reacts with anxiety when someone decides to talk to me? This is a sad realization. I feel so lonely, I have become so used to the loneliness, that anxiety pops up even when a perfectly nice and sweet and well-meaning man wants to speak to me.

All in all, I just don't know what to do. I'm happy when I'm out on the ocean, but increasingly I am no longer able to do that. I'm happy when I'm laughing with friends, but that doesn't happen very often. I am happy with what I'm studying, but increasingly I am becoming overwhelmed and tired. I think, sometimes, I need a break from school. I need time to just explore. Explore the world, explore myself. Sleep under the stars away from everything, with people like me who crave to ask the questions that matter and thrive in the open.

I have come so far, and yet the fears, the doubts, and the loneliness still hold me back. I'm trying as hard as I can to be real, to be open, to love and dream and dance and breathe. But it's not always easy.

I need to find my people. I miss my people. I don't think I'm very good at being alone.

I want to ask the questions that matter, at night, floating in the sea under the stars.

Can I ever find that?

Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "You make nothing alone. Human beings are not mere competitors, and human life is not merely competition. We are collaborators. To be human is to catch the falling person." -John Green
Word of the day: fantods--a state of nervous irritability; the fidgets; the willies

3 Years: Cosmic Birth, Death, and Love

Have you ever thought about how long the period of 3 years really is? I never had. But over the past few weeks, it's all I've thought about. I don't know how to quantify it with numbers and figures, but I know how to explain the sheer gravity of that amount of time based on the heaviness of my heart and the tears still flowing down my face as I write this to you, my dear.

My dearest Nick. Oh, how I miss you. The past two weeks have been a mixture of crying, sobbing for what almost seems like no reason at all and smiling and laughing at the memory of you. I love you so much, and even after 3 years, I still cannot quite wrap my mind around why you were taken. You lived life so intensely, so lovingly, so freely. You deserved more than your short 16 years.

Truly, you did. And yet, somehow, you lived more in those 16 years than most of us could ever dream of. You spread your heart far and wide, smiling and laughing and making friends everywhere you went. No matter the circumstances. No matter the circumstances, you remained completely, irrevocably you. I can only hope I live nearly as wonderfully and freely throughout the length of time I've been given as you did during your oh so bitter-sweetly short 16 years.

Oh, Nick. I love you so much. Not loved, not past tense. But no, I still do. I absolutely still do. I used to think you were just gone, and the hole in my heart would never be healed. Over the past 3 years though, I've come to realize you are still here. Every day. Every happy moment in my life, every sad moment, the nights I spend crying and the days I spend dancing in the ocean...you are there with me. 

We are more than the sum of our parts. Your body may be gone, but your spirit can never be destroyed. Your spirit holds your wonderfully beautiful energy, and that energy can never be destroyed. You remain, after all these years gone from your earthly domain, invincible.

Perhaps the hole in my heart will never be completely healed, but every day my heart is just a little bit warmer knowing you watch over me every day. The nights I walk home lonely and still too afraid, I look up at the stars and breathe in your light. The breeze comforting me is your breath. That light shining down through the city lights comes from your shining eyes and beautiful heart.

Nick, you were birthed from a star. And 3 years ago, you left our earthly world to become a star again. I too, was birthed from a star. One day, I will join you as a beacon of light and hope against that deep velvet fabric. And we can dance together in the universe. And one day, perhaps, billions and billions of years from now, those stars that are us will burn heroically, but our elements, too, will be recycled. Our energy will again become the building blocks another beautiful life.

I love you, Nick. But I miss you so dearly. 3 years feels so unfathomably long. I cannot help but wonder where you'd be today. I still remember quite clearly laughing and joking with you in class. I remember the smiles you would give me in the hallway that would brighten even the darkest of days. And I remember all the loving and sincere help you offered me in basketball, even though it would have been cooler to just hang out with your friends. I remember. I remember.

I was your friend, your loving admirer, your fellow traveler, for 6 years. Now...now you've been gone for half that time. But our journey isn't over. We still, I believe, travel together, and we will always. For I will never forget you. I will hold onto your spirit and your positive energy for the rest of my life. You have guided me through the darkest periods of my life, and I know hold on with conviction to the blessings of strength and light you beam to me every day. I try my best to live my life as freely as you did. I want to spread my heart as far as you did, and I truly hope I am.

I live for you, still. I pray to your light every day. And I am oh so grateful for the 6 physical years I spent with you as a friend. Today, I continue to be grateful for every single day we travel this complex and winding universe together.

The shock of losing you has gone, but I miss you every day. Time does not bring relief, and I remember you in places you have never been. Places your physical body never stepped, but where your soul now flies freely. I do not believe time will heal the hurt, but it has put me at peace. I have reached a sense of peace and happiness with my life I think you would be proud of.

So thank you. Thank you for everything. You taught me so much and continue to teach me all the most important things every day. I love you.

Always. You are finally free, my dear, and one day I will join you in that final freedom, grateful for the time both of us have been given on this beautiful blue dot in the wide universe of stars.

It is 12:00 am, and I am crying because you are gone and because I know you are here and because you didn't get everything your beautiful spirit deserved. But through those tears, above my heavy and hurting heart, I smile because I knew you, because you fly with me, because you guide me, and, most of all, because I loved you and love you still today.

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go, --so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, "There is no memory of him here!"

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Stars Hold the Truth (A Rant)

Somehow, I seem to keep getting my homework done early. And it's not like I don't have a fair amount of it. It's just that I've found since I don't live in the dorm anymore, it's almost like I no longer have friends to hang out with and talk to about the important things, the silly things, the frustrating things. And I miss that. God, I miss that. Probably the one and only thing I miss about the dorms, but it's pretty damn important. While I'm happy where I am, I find myself feeling increasingly lonely. And that little voice keeps creeping into the back of my head. Haha, see, no one likes you. No one wants to hang out with you. You? You're not interesting at all. 

Of course, this mostly isn't true. I have gotten to hang out with some friends, but all of us work and have homework and live in different places now. It's not exactly like everyone else is hanging out with a bunch of people while I sit here sad and alone. Not quite that (yet). I just have this fear of being alone, of being easily forgotten, and these past weeks certainly haven't helped with that. Because while I like the independence, I certainly don't like eating dinner, breakfast, and lunch alone 75% of the time.

And the unfortunate thing is, I don't know how to fix it. That may sound ridiculous, but I really don't. I have horrible social skills. I don't know how to talk to strangers in my classes, especially since I know they're all older than I am. These horrible social skills, are, I'm sure, about 80% of the reason I've never had a boyfriend. Because I don't put myself out there. Not because i don't love talking or meeting new people, because I absolutely do. I just don't know...how. If that makes sense.

Anyway. The upside of this is that even with work and schoolwork, I have a little free time to read, run, mess around online, write, etc. The downside of this is that I begin to feel horribly uninteresting as I read about and watch the fantastically wonderful lives of others. Bleurgh.

So. Since I didn't work either day this weekend and finished a lot of my homework during the week, I spent a fair amount of my time this weekend watching Neil deGrasse Tyson and Carl Sagan talk. Because I'm a nerd. Also, Neil deGrasse Tyson isn't just Stephen Colbert's God. He's my God as well. In a way. ;)

First, I would like to say that I wish I had known astrophysics was even a career path when I was in high school. Unfortunately, I never had that physics teacher or math teacher who inspired me to be great, who showed me the amazing things those scientific fields could accomplish. I mean, I knew from reading and watching TV the cool things physics could do with particles, the large hadron collider, etc. I even listened to a talk about quantum mechanics. And I was fascinated.

But I never had anyone tell me I could feasibly do those things. They seemed so out of my reach. And, let's face it, they probably are. I'm just not that smart. But, oh my GOD, that would be an awesome career. I truly don't know why we have stopped our kids from dreaming of becoming astronauts. In the 70s, so many kids wanted to be astronauts when they grew up. Now, I don't actually know anyone who wants to work for NASA or go into astrophysics. We've stopped dreaming of the stars.

But the stars hold all the truth. You will remember (perhaps) the blog I wrote in April about how I pray to the stars. How I know that my atoms, my elements came from those stars. That beautiful light exists in me. Those stars died a terrible, fiery death so I could exist.

Truly, as Tyson says, physics is poetic. It is magical. It holds all that is true. And it allows us to continue to dream. I am amazed every time I hear him speak about his enthusiasm and sheer intelligence. He truly wants everyone to understand the complex science he and others like him perform, because he wants us all to dream right along with him.

Oh, I'm dreaming, Neil. I may not be actively pursuing astrophysics (though I now kind of wish I was). But I'm dreaming of a future. I'm dreaming of the mysteries held in our planet, in the ocean. And I'm dreaming of the amazing unique complexities of our chemical molecules and atoms. Everything, everything that came from those same stars up above my head right now.

The stars hold the truth. Science holds the truth.

As another anectdote, during an interview Colbert did with Tyson, Tyson made a remark that we don't know what gives things mass, and Colbert replied, "So we don't know why we get fat?" While I know he meant that completely as a joke, it opened my eyes to a whole new sort of truth.

As a society, we focus on numbers. Calories. Weight. Clothing sizes. Etc. But none of those things really...mean anything. For example, my oceanography teacher mentioned on Friday that if you go closer to the equator, you weight less than you do at the poles on Earth. Just because of gravity and centripedal force. Really, what is weight?

According to Wikipedia: "the weight of an object is the force on the object due to gravity"

And, if you really think about that, you truly get an even deeper understanding of how arbitrary of a measurement weight is. It's ridiculous some of the things we focus on. Some of the things I focus on.

But science? Science is awesome. Science holds the answers to the questions about the universe, the questions that really matter. I was lucky to have amazing biology and chemistry professors, who truly deepened my love for and aptitude in science. And I know I'm on the right path when I'd rather do my organic chemistry homework (as complex as it can be sometimes) than read my psychology textbook (as interesting as some concepts may be). When I spend my Saturday evening drawing organic molecules on my computer and then looking at them in 3D. When I'd rather snorkel for hours than sit on the beach to get that attractive tan. When I'd rather my government spend money on funding space expeditions, ocean expeditions, and science camps for kids than on big name businesses.

Because in the end, I think science is really what matters. And our society, our world isn't going anywhere good if we ignore the importance of science. We need to aim for the highest scientific literacy in the world. We need to attract the best scientists, the smartest young kids, the most innovative technologies, so we can build the best programs and truly, truly, begin to explore again what makes us human.

We can learn a lot from the ancient people of Egypt, Greece, etc who looked to the sky and asked questions. They discovered so much without the technology we have today. Instead, we spend our time arguing over gay marriage and women's rights. Our civilizations came so far in ancient times, until all was forgot. We came so far, scientifically, again in the 1600s, 1700s, 1900s...We can't let all of that be forgot again, for the next generation 1000s of years in the future to rediscover.

Wheeeeeeeeeee. Sorry for the rant. But. But. SCIENCE IS AWESOME.

Just for the record, my new list "what I want to be when I grow up":
1. Marine biologist. Because, duh. The ocean holds so many mysteries we do not know. Also, sharks are cool. Also, so many other reasons, but we don't need to get into that right now.
2. Astrophysicist. THANKS NEIL.
3. Adventurer, mountaineer, and conservationist.
4. Maureen Johnson

Yep.

I'm going to stop ranting now, but I will leave you with this question: How does who marries whom, who loves whom, etc affect our lives and our existence more than the knowledge of black holes, supernovas, and the cosmic journey? Why don't we place more importance on science?

Tyson/Nye 2012!!! ;)

Cheers!

Word of the day: ululate--lament loudly and shrilly; wail.

Inspirational quote/photo of the day:

For the record, I'm with van Gogh (who I love). I know nothing, nothing with any certainty about our world. But the ocean makes my heart sing and the stars make my soul sing. I dream, even without the knowledge of how things work. I never stop dreaming. 

Where I've Been

Recently, one of my friends from the first time I was in treatment asked me to send her a story of where I'd been and where I was now. She said she was making a scrapbook of these eating disorder stories that she could look at when she was feeling down to remind herself of how strong all of us were. My first thought was, "Wow, that's a good idea." But then I was gripped by anxiety and fear because I had never done this before. As many times as I had been asked to, I always glossed over the "history" part and focused on my second treatment experience and eventual recovery. I gave myself time, and finally sat down to write this. It's a lot longer than I expected. But I think it's good for me. I need to have my story written down for myself. And I hope maybe it will inspire some of you beautiful, strong people.

Trigger Warning: mentions of severe eating disorder behaviors. 

One of the reasons I’ve never written my story is that when I look back on the beginnings of my life…it’s not like I had a terrible time. For the most part, my childhood was happy. I mean, sure, I could tell from a very young age that my parents weren’t happy together. But I had friends, even despite moving several times as a young kid. I had good grades. I had a dad, I had a mom, and I had a sister. My parents got divorced, but that happens to almost every kid nowadays it seems. But what happened to me, really? I was never sexually assaulted. None of my parents died. I lived in a middle-class home and got good grades. Of course…that’s really just me trying to downplay my story. Trying to make myself and my story seem unimportant.

But it’s not. Every little thing affected me in some small way. And I did suffer through some traumatic events. My story is important. Everyone’s is. I just like to tell myself I don’t matter, even still today.

Like I said, my childhood was relatively happy. I was an incredibly dorky kid, but I managed to maintain a happy group of friends throughout elementary school and into middle school. I hit puberty a little earlier than a lot of girls, but I don’treally remember it bothering me. There are some nasty comments I remember, of course, from girls. And a lot of focus on weight and body image from my mom. So I was occasionally uncomfortable with my body, but up until about 7^th or 8^th grade…I was okay with all of that. Other things? Weren’t so okay.

As much as I like to downplay my parents’ divorce, it certainly had a profound effect on me. It meant that at the age of 12, I was put in the uncomfortable and completely inappropriate position of having to care for my 41 year old mother. Not physically, but emotionally…and in a lot of other senses. My sister and I cooked for ourselves and had to push my mom to do things, get us places on time, get herself places on time. At the exact time I was developing and turning into a teenager, I had lost the thing I needed most: a mother figure. I had no one to guide me through the crazy world of puberty and boys and hormones and emotions. Sure, I could’ve reached out to someone, but I choose instead to ignore it and pretend I was just fine with everything that was happening. Over the years, my dad remarried to a woman who was a much better mother figure overall. But as my sister went through her own traumatic teenage years, the focus on me slipped and vanished. Everyone assumed I was the perfect daughter, who was always happy, had no problems, and didn’t need someone to talk to.

I upheld that illusion for a long time. I had lost my mother, in a way, but I pretended it didn’t matter. A few years later, I lost my Great Aunt who I loved very dearly, and was unable to go to her funeral. But I pretended that was okay too. (Noticing a pattern here?) I navigated the scary halls of middle and early high school by myself. Again, pretending I was just fine with everything. But I wasn’t. Deep down inside, I was screaming for help and love and a voice to speak with. My life felt out of control, as lives do. But I didn’t know how to handle it. Almost unconsciously, then, I turned to food and weight.

This process started almost innocently in 2007, with me deciding I wanted to eat healthier, but (as things will) the problem progressed and grew until I found myself literally being eaten up by the black whole of anorexia. I didn’t recognize it at the time, of course. As the pounds dropped and my appearance changed, I upheld the illusion of perfection. I was fine.

I wasn’t, of course. My life continued to spin out of control until I found myself in January of 2009 sitting in a cold hospital being told to remove my clothes so I could get weighed. Sitting down in front of a veggie burger and milk with another patient and a kind, but entirely too cheery counselor. Having to share my feelings and my life with a group full of people I didn’t know. Losing my 16^th birthday to the white walls of the hospital, despite all of the attempts by my friends there to make it the best it could be.

I wish I could say that first hospital experience helped me, but I don’t think it did. Because I hadn’t fully begun to talk about anything, really. I had been without my voice for so long that when I found it I didn’t know how to say things. Instead, I used it to tell the people who mattered the things I thought they wanted to hear. And it worked, apparently. For I was discharged after a month, on my way to being physically healthy but far from being emotionally stable. I was doing all of this for my parents, because I wanted them to be able to see me as the perfect child again.

Somehow, I managed to hold up the illusion for about half of 2009. I appeared healthy and I was happy some of the time, but the thoughts never went away. I hate the way I looked, I still hadn’t talked about anything that mattered, and I just felt so alone. I managed okay, until…

The train struck. That’s what it felt like, at least. I was walking through my life wearing a mask, calmly moving along as best I could. And then that train hit me directly in the heart. September 26, 2009. I lost a dear friend and a beautiful human being. I won’t pretend I was one of Nick’s close friends, but I loved the way he lived. I had grown up with him in my classes, and I loved his energy and spirit. As semi-close friends, he could always put a smile on my face on days I was down without even trying. He did the same for everyone he met, even strangers in the hallway. And the loss happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that I found myself gasping for breath. I grieved and cried for 3 weeks, attending his memorial and making our own little memorial for him with friends. After that, though, I didn’t know what to do.

I felt guilty that I was so sad when we weren’t even close friends. I felt awful inside, so sad and raw, but I didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone. I didn’t feel like I was allowed to be that sad. So after his birthday in December, I stopped trying to publicly discuss any feelings I had. I stuffed them inside. I thought about him daily, wondering why. He was such a beautiful person. He deserved to live more than I did. I wanted to live a life comparable to the one he did and was leading somewhere out there in the stars, but I didn’t know how. Instead, stuffing my grief and putting on a smile, I slowly but surely fell into a full-blown relapse.

I couldn’t handle life anymore. I’m ashamed to admit there were certain days I just wanted to die, and I hoped what I was doing to myself would kill me. I resented attempts by my parents to make me better, because I knew the world wouldn’t miss me if I was gone. Not like Nick.

Deep down, though, underneath the eating disorder and the darkness, this wasn’t how I wanted to be living. I wanted to cry and dance and breathe and laugh and love. I wanted to talk, but my voice had been swallowed up in the darkness. Over the course of an awful summer filled with 8 hours a day of miserably working out and actively restricting, so much worse than my eating disorder had been before, I knew I needed help. I was absolutely terrified. As many times as I told myself (or anorexia told me) that I wanted to die, I knew I didn’t want to. But I also knew I was on that path. If something didn’t change, I certainly wouldn’t be breathing in a year.

And so it was with a sense of relief that I found myself sitting in my doctor’s office with a scarily low heart rate, being told I absolutely had to check in to the 8^th (medical) floor of Children’s Hospital. There was a certain amount of anger and fear in that room, but deep in my heart, where the true me found a place to shine, I was relieved.

After a hard 5 days hooked up to a heart monitor and being unable to do anything but eat, go to the bathroom, and watch television, I walked with relief back into those walls of the Eating Disorder Unit. I found myself hugging Gary and Stacie, the counselors I had connected with so well the last time. Finally, I was letting my barriers down. I was getting the help I needed, whether Ana wanted me to get it or not.

Now, I won’t pretend my time in there was easy. Those 3 months were some of the hardest of my life. I think I cried about 90% of the days I was in there, at one time or another. And until the second week in November, I still didn’t know how to beat my eating disorder. I wanted to so badly, but I felt she was so much more powerful than I was. I couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea that I held any power or light within me that could overcome such darkness. I didn’t allow myself to fully grieve Nick until the beginning of December.

But those 3 months were also…wonderful. These people cared about me. I made so many friends who I traveled with through the painful beginnings of recovery. I’ve always liked the metaphor that someone with an eating disorder is like someone who has been in a shipwreck and is clinging to a wooden board in a treacherous sea. Then, when the helicopter comes, you don’t want to let go of that piece of wood because it has helped you so much to survive. You don’t trust the ladder to carry you. You’re comfortable being uncomfortable.

So, yes, recovery is a hard decision. I honestly don’t think I fully chose it until December or even January, when I realized how much I really did want to live. Throughout those 3 months, I finally learned how to express myself. I began to dance again, even performing a story of my eating disorder through dance. I began to write and I began to talk. And finally, I began to laugh again, truly enjoying little moments in my life.

I’ll never forget what the counselors, doctors, and friends did for me in those 3 months. They gave me a second chance at life, one that ever since I have held onto with conviction. Sure, I still suffer from self-doubt and definitely don’t always believe in myself, but all of them still do. Looking back now, I know I was in an awful state in the summer of 2010. And I can’t believe that I am where I am now, almost 2 years since being strapped empty and powerless to that heart monitor, staring numbly at a white ceiling. I couldn’t see the stars beyond me, the love around me. I do now honestly know that without those 3 months, without the people who reached through my burning fences and held onto my hand through the beginning steps of recovery, I WOULDN’T BE ALIVE TODAY.

But I am. I chose recovery for myself. For Nick, yes, but mostly for myself. Because I knew I had to live. I wanted to live.

Again, I’m not going to pretend it has been easy. Through the beginning months of 2011 I struggled with recovery, at many times desperately wanting the feelings Ana gave me, the emptiness and numbness. I had to remind myself often of all she had taken from me and how much I deserved. Luckily, I met and immediately connected with a beautiful group of girls in my hometown who loved me and accepted me for exactly who I was, even with all of my flaws. With their help and with the knowledge that everyone from Children’s still believed in me, I began to believe in myself as well.

I graduated high school at the top of my class with an IB Diploma. I (amazingly) went to prom with a very good friend. I spent my days and the hours late into the night laughing and studying with friends. I spent my summer working and smiling, not being bogged down by an incessant need to perfect myself. And I went off to my dream college in Hawai’i, stable, happy, and alive.

Of course, even today things are tough. I struggled through the beginning months of last year to find myself and my friends at college, but the confidence came eventually. I struggled this summer to find people who cared for me, until I realized that Connecticut just wouldn’t be my home. And every day, I have to tell the little voice in the back of my head saying “You don’t deserve this” to shut up.

Unfortunately, I don’t think the eating disorder ever goes away fully. I have to keep a strong lookout for symptoms and thoughts. I’m not “like” a lot of my peers, because my entire teenage years were spent consumed by an eating disorder, hiding my pain, and, often, sitting in a hospital room. But I try. Every day, I remind myself why recovery is right for me.

Now, more than ever, I also try to spread my message and hope to friends and strangers alike suffering from an eating disorder. I remember feeling like no one could understand me. I remember being ashamed. I remember fooling myself in 2008 into thinking I didn’t’ have a problem just because there was such a stigma around the “anorexic” label. So through NEDA Walks in my hometown and being honest and open about my past, I hope to help other women (and men) to feel not so alone. I hope they understand there is nothing to be ashamed of. And I hope, above all, the y understand that asking for help and being in recovery shows more strength than limiting calories or purging or overexercising.

I’m not ashamed of my past. It has shaped who I am today. My favorite nurse, Shana, once said she wanted my life, “except, you know, the eating disorder part.” I thought about that for a while, and while I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone, and I wouldn’t go back and wish it on 14 year old me, I know it’s part of my life. It taught me so much about the person I am and the life I want to be living. I am a much stronger person today for going through all of my struggles. And I don’t try to hide that fact.

Because there’s nothing shameful. We are powerful BECAUSE WE SURVIVED. No shame. No pity. No silence. It’s time we talk about eating disorders, as a global society. It’s time we understand them. And it’s time that all of us realize how beautiful and strong we are as women, despite our histories, scars, ghosts, and especially despite what other people say.

I dance today in the rain and float gently on the ocean knowing that while my life still may be out of control, I have the power and right to make of it what I want. And I want to live. Because after all this time, after all the pain and grief and jungles, after all the nights spent crying, hungry, wishing I truly could disappear, after the nearly 4 years stuck in a bone cage, I LOVE BEING ALIVE.

That alone is a powerful thing.

Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” -Agatha Christie