You Saved Me. "Thank You" Is SO Not Enough

For the majority of this past semester, I have been going to counseling. I was ashamed and scared to tell people about this part of my life, for I was well aware of the stigma connected to counseling. However, my counselor changed my life. She helped me change my outlook on life, and she more importantly, she helped me become a person I can actually be proud of. For years I have been struggling with people leaving me, with people dying in unfair ways, and with not being able to openly express my feelings with anyone. My life was spiraling into depression, so I went to my college's counseling center. Believe me, the seemingly simple action of walking down the street to that center, opening the door, and telling the receptionist that I needed help was the hardest thing I have ever made myself do. I relish in completing tasks on my own, in accomplishing the unfathomable by myself. But this time was different; this time I needed help, for the pain was building and it was too much for me to handle.

My counselor was a grad student in her last year, and I do not think I could have been placed with anyone more suitable. She was young enough to relate to me, but wise enough to guide me through the painful memories and trying days. This amazing woman helped me to realize that feeling the pain I feel everyday is normal...I just can't let it consume me the way I used to. I will have bad days, that is a fact I have learned to deal with, but I will also have extraordinarily good days, and there is no reason to feel guilty for those days. Grief is a process, and though it will always be with me, I know that eventually the pain becomes something I can choose to better my life instead of hinder it. 

The counselor I saw probably does not know just how greatly she impacted my life. Not to worry, though, I wrote her a letter and shared with her a piece of my writing which I have shared with no one else. My former counselor saved me from the omnipresent darkness that was my life and somehow found a way to help me allow light to shine out my overpowering grief. So I thank her with my whole heart, my entire being; she deserves so much more.

Boston

The minute I decided to begin training for a half marathon, I became immersed in the world of runners. I suddenly understood how such a strong connection could be had between thousands of complete strangers. Runners get each other. We know how hard it is to get up early on a day off for a long run, how hard it is to take those first steps when all you want to do is lie down and do anything other than run. At the same time, we understand and have experienced the euphoria that can only be obtained through completing a run once thought out of reach. Running is our joy, not our punishment. What other sport can claim that? We runners are a family. We accept anyone who wants to join, for we were all once beginners ourselves. We encourage others to join and cheer them on, for we remember those strangers who cheered for us. Not only runners are included in this family, but the actual families of the runners. That being said, one can easily understand how absolutely horrible it was for a runner to hear of and see the actions that took place at the Boston Marathon.

I was in a state of shock when I heard what had happened. I was, and still am, angry at whoever did this. How could a person take away the feeling of euphoria that comes from these races? I was horrified and scared and speechless. Then I found out that the bomb was set off from within the crowd of family members and friends...the supporters, the main reasons most of us are able to do what we do. I went from angry to livid in record fashion. How dare someone hurt these people? How dare these idiots take away three lives that were so precious and encouraging and loving? How cowardly those responsible must be.

The bombings at the Boston Marathon made me realize how lucky I am to be healthy and physical intact. I am SO lucky to even be able to run, and I never want to take that for granted. Thus, I have decided to run a marathon (my first ever) next year. I have not decided where I will run this marathon, but I know I want my race day shirt to say "For Boston." I am running a marathon because there is no reason for me not to, and because I want to show those cowards that they cannot scare this family of runners. We are strong, able, and full of life. You cannot bring us down. You will not destroy our spirit. We will always be a family; we will always cheer each other on; we will ALWAYS be runners. And our fans, our supporters, will always be number one in our hearts. 

When You Hate the New World College Has to Offer

Jr. High consisted of the worst days of my life. I was shunned by my friends one year, laughed at for stretch marks from losing a lot of weight another, and humiliated countless times a day. The one though that kept me going was: High School will be better. I counted down to the last day of eighth grade, made plans with my friends for the summer and anxiously awaited the wondrous new life High School would introduce me to. I was not disappointed. Though I didn't party or drink or have sex while I was in high school, I had fun! In my mind, I didn't need to be drink off my ass or completely smitten with a boy to have a good time. My favorite memories were made by just hanging with my friends (sober). Whether we went to a movie or stayed at home, my friends and I created bonds that were made to never be broken. Yes, the majority of the time I hated school. I hated the constant drama between petty girls and idiotic jocks. I couldn't wait to get away from the "popular" kids and build a new life with people who hadn't known me through all my awkward stages. I knew I would miss my friends, but I also knew that I had to get away.

"College is a whole new world!" That's the mantra every college student I knew would tell me when he or she would visit; the mantra I kept repeating to myself when I thought high school graduation would never arrive. College will be better. This time, I was completely disappointed.

I have been a college student for nearly two semesters, and so far it has been nothing like I imagined it would be...not even close. Expectation: I would have new friends who I could hang with a lot and spend Friday and Saturday nights going to parties or just chilling around town. Reality: I have no friends I hang out with consistantly, and my weekends are spent either working or watching TV while doing homework. Expectation: I would get invited to parties or to hang out with people. Reality: I don't get invited to do that stuff.

Basically, my social life in college sucks. I could use the excuse that I work on the weekends and therefore don't have time to go to parties, but here I am writing this blog on a Saturday evening when I don't have to work with no plans to do anything social tonight. And it's not for lack of trying. I tried to go to social events, even by myself, but people always ignored me. Even now, no one ever tries to get to know me well enough to eventually hang out away from campus. I hate my life here. I am so far away from happy, and I have no idea what to do about it.

The fact that all of my other friends have made plenty of new friends at their colleges doesn't help. All I hear is, "---- and I are going to do -----" "I'm going to a party tonight!" "----- is coming to stay with me this summer!" All I see are pictures of my friends with their new friends doing fun stuff. And all I can think is that my life sucks here. What happened to the "new world" college was supposed to offer? What happened to my expectations? Everyone else is living in that new world experiencing what I have always dreamed about, and I'm stuck here, complaining about my lack of social life on a blog no one ever reads.

Seriously? I have to lie every time someone asks me how college is going. I say "Oh, it's great! I love it! So much better than high school!" Am I the only one who is this way? Am I the only one who has failed to make actual new friends in college? Am I the only one who feels like she made the biggest mistake of her life by choosing to go to the school that was the cheapest instead of the one in New York or Ohio?

College sure as hell offered me a new world. Too bad I'm the only one populating it.

Half Marathons, Oreo Cheesecake, and Happiness

Today I am happy. Today is one of those rare days where I can think about the people in my life that I've lost and not be overcome with sadness. Today I am happy.

I ran my first half marathon this morning, and I not only had a great time but was able to run the whole thing with my mom who is an "experienced" runner. My feet, back, legs and knees hurt so badly, but I wouldn't change anything if I could. Who knew something that causes so much pain could be the reason for so much happiness? I guess running is a lot like life. It's a solo sport, but there are always people around to cheer you on and make you face the tough days and times when you aren't sure you can go any further. There are bad days, good days, frustrating and elating days, but if you work hard enough and never forget to actually enjoy the scenery and simple happiness surrounding you, the end is so worth the pain. Just like in running, in life we all face hills, both small and steep. While huffing and puffing our way up these hills, there are times when we want to stop, collapse on the ground and give up. I'm not going to lie, those hills are hard. The worst ones take everything a body has and more, but we can't give up. The top is in sight, and eventually, it will be reached! Though it may not seem like it when you're out of breathe and can feel leg muscles you didn't even know you had, the top of that hill is there, waiting for you to succeed through the sweat and pain and finally find solace.

Today I am happy. I know I will not always be as happy as I am now, but I refuse to dwell on that thought. I just ran 13.1 freaking miles and accomplished something I never thought I could. Tomorrow will be another story, but TODAY I am happy.

Sometimes Life Sucks.

Sometimes life sucks, and there is no other way of explaining it. Sometimes bad, horrible, terrible things happen to really good, innocent people. Sometimes people take their own lives and no one ever saw it coming. Sometimes these "sometimes" events happen way too often and in way too close of a proximity to each other.

Take right now, for example. One year and a month ago, a friend of mine ended her life. My world fell apart. I'm still picking up the pieces. a few weeks ago, a boy I used to go to school with ended his life. My world trembled. A few pieces fell off. I picked them back up. Two days ago, a friend's cousin ended his life. My world was OK. Today, my sister, my best friend, had to go through something horrible and terrible, and I couldn't be there to comfort her. My world is beginning to shake again. Pieces are falling again. Sometimes life sucks.

I believe in God. I trust God. But I think he understands that sometimes life sucks. I think He's OK with the fact that, when my friend ended her life, I didn't want to hear people tell me that God would take care of things, that I just needed to pray, that things would be OK. I KNOW God will take care of things, I KNOW that I should pray (I do), and things will NEVER be OK. When life really sucks, the suckiness never goes way, we just learn how to deal with its presence in our lives. We learn how to be happy and sad at the same time even though we don't know how that is even remotely possible. When life sucks, there are no words that can comfort or actions that can sooth. When life sucks, we have to take a step back, accept the fact that it sucks, and acknowledge the fact that, someday, we will feel OK again...even if we know we aren't.

Requiem: Book three of the Delirium trilogy

   After reading Delirium and Pandemonium, the first two books in Lauren Oliver's trilogy, I was so anticipating the finale, Requiem. Though the story line of this third novel was excellent, the anticipation high and well written, I have to admit to being extremely disappointed with the ending. Too many strings were left untied, too many questions left unanswered. In short, I felt as if the ending was very much rushed. I did not feel a sense of closure AT ALL with the end of the trilogy. And to be honest, that in itself made me feel as if I'd wasted time, and money, on reading this last book. What is the point of reading frantically to get to the end when there essentially is no end? SPOILER


SPOILER


     I was so excited to read some of the story from Hana's POV, and I love how Oliver showed the change the cure initiates, but how Hana wasn't fully cured, that she still held on to a piece of her old self. Now, whether or not Oliver was trying to show, when Lena and Hana finally see each other again, how Hana is different in her mind but can't show that on the outside, I don't know. But let me say this: Hana's last chapter was a complete rip off! I felt cheated out of all Hana had worked to uncover about herself when she was just walking down the street, with no closure to her story except that she let Fred die. Even worse, there was no closure between Lena and Hana! Just a "Thanks for saving my life, I've decided to tell you there's a bomb in your house so maybe you won't die!" They were BEST FRIENDS for goodness sake, you don't end that kind of storyline with something as cheap as simple partings.
     I also felt very cheated out of the Alex and Lena story. The basis of this story started around Lena AND Alex, and the fact that he got pretty much ignored throughout this novel, one we FINALLY have him back, kind of pissed me off. There were moments, yes, when Alex and Lena were alone together with strong emotions, but NOTHING like I wanted it to be. And the ending between them? That was about at cheap as it gets! "I never stopped loving you, but I have to go help tear down this wall now, find me later?" So NOT how I expected their reconnection to be like.
     Basically, the whole story EXCEPT the ending was excellent! Unfortunately, the ending of a book can make or break it, and I felt as if this one broke, not only the book, but the entire trilogy. This was an ending you MAYBE expect to see in a book that isn't concluding a series, but even if it wasn't, I would have a hard time referring Requiem to another reader. And that sucks, because I absolutely loved Delirium and Pandemonium! Maybe Oliver will surprise us with a continuation of the trilogy? It's a long shot, I know, but surely she won't leave her fans so disappointed!

Death and Hate

  I realize that, in our lives, death plays for a team which cannot be beat. One day, sooner or later, every person will die. This is not a morbid thought, it is simply the truth. I have always accepted this fact, but that does not mean I hate death any less when it takes away the people I love, sometimes too soon. My grandpa died when I was 12 years old, and I was so far away from being prepared for it. I remember the day perfectly, and I remember not understanding why my dad was in such a hurry to get to the hospital that Sunday morning. I didn't know why he was acting like this day was any different than rest. We were going to visit Grandpa like we did every day, and the rushing did not make sense to me...he'd always be there, right? How saddened I am to recall the innocent mind of my 12 year old self. At that time in my life I did not know what true, soulful pain felt like; I did not know what the loss of a loved one would do to me. At that age, even though I understood that my Grandpa was sick, I didn't really think his dying was a possibility. He was the strongest man I knew, I didn't know, nor could I imagine, live without his deep, rumbling voice and booming laugh. I fell into a secret depression after he died, and if I'm being honest, I never got out of the deep end. I call my depression secret because that is exactly what it was. I kept my feelings of heartbreak and sadness to myself, for I felt no one was as traumatized as I. I heard people saying my Grandpa's death had been expected...was it really? Because I had NO idea I was supposed to be expecting one of the three most important men in my life to be dying. I heard family say that they were glad he was out of pain and in a better place. This just made me feel guilty and horrible for wanting him back with me, where he should be. I heard my parents say how glad they were to have heard him talking the day before he died even though he hadn't been making much sense. These words made me cry harder, for I'd blatantly told my mother that Saturday that I didn't feel like going to the hospital and wanted to stay home. The next day, my Grandpa was alive, but only just...he wasn't talking, nor was he moving. I'm not even sure he knew I was there. I missed my chance to hear his voice one last time, and now, I don't even remember what the last words I heard him speak were. I'm sure they were "I love you," but I don't remember. I don't remember, and that kills me.
   I could go on and on about all the other reasons I have to hate death, but I feel as if I'd be repeating myself with different subjects. I hate death in all forms. When it is "expected"; when it is a surprise; and when it is at the hands of the receiver. I wish I could say I've never experienced how it feels to know and love someone who battled death in that third way, but I have and it sucks. Death sucks. I understand that it's the way of freaking life, and that for some people, God is waiting on the other side, but death still sucks, and I doubt I will ever think otherwise.

Childhood Cancer Awareness

    I'm not sure how many people know that childhood cancer is the number one disease killer of children; or how many know that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month; or how many know that only 3% of funds raised for research for cancer go to childhood cancer. 3%. I know that I was completely oblivious, or perhaps I should say ignorant, of all of these facts until last September when I heard Taylor Swift's song "Ronan." This beautiful, heartbreaking song is about a four year old boy who lost his life to a harsh form of childhood cancer and his mother. This song is not hypothetical--it is true. Ronan Thompson was a real boy, and his family is continuously trying to live in a world without their sweet boy. This isn't something made up to tell a sad story. No, this is REAL, and we should all be made aware of the fact that children die EVERYDAY because of childhood cancer. Innocent, sweet children who haven't even had a chance to live yet! How can so many people be so unaware?? Everyone in the world knows that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, but how many can say they know what September is? Or that the representing color is gold? In October, the White House is lit up pink, shouldn't gold mark this house in September? This is exactly what Ronan's mom, Maya Thompson is trying to make happen. A petition has been started to get Washington DC's attention that we want as much awareness for childhood cancer as all the other cancers, and that starts with making EVERYONE aware by lighting the White House GOLD in September.
    I can't say exactly why this cause is so important to me, for I don't really know. Maybe its the fact that children should not have their innocence interrupted and tore apart by such a cruel disease; or that children are our FUTURE, and we are not doing nearly enough to save them. I do know that it makes me sick to see hundreds of people "like" a status on facebook about someone getting a new haircut, but ONE like on a post about Childhood Cancer Awareness and a petition to make others aware. Where are our priorities? Are we really so shallow as to ignore what is right in front of us? Take a step back, and find what is actually important in our lives. please copy this link to sign the petition, it only takes about two minutes! <https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/light-white-house-gold-month-september-honor-pediatric-cancer-fighters-and-bring-light-cause/syV6M6wX>