Accomplishment Lists

You know those days where you wonder why you do anything?

Maybe you've just gotten your fifteenth rejection of the day, your boss just fired you, AND the cops pulled you over for speeding. It's arguably a bad day. So why bother?

On Wednesday, I got to go to a middle school class and talk about Self Esteem and Relationships. It was different from anything I'd ever presented before, not only because of the format, but also because of what I was trying to convey to the students. I started it off by having them write four lists:

1) Things I'm Insecure About:

2) Why I'm Better than Those Insecurities:

3) Things I Do Well:

4) Things I Like About Me:

Because I was given free reign of the classroom, I used the dry erase board and filled in my own answers. I talked about how the higher your self esteem level is, the easier your lists (2-4) will be. Once those lists start to come easier, List #1 stops having so much power. 

You just gotta think the world of yourself,
you know?

So then the question was, how do we boost self esteem?

My favorite answer is the Accomplishment List. On those days you feel utterly worthless, remember that you're not. No matter what age you are, what gender, what circumstances  you have done things that you have been proud of yourself for. It's time to remember what those are.

Here is a mini list of mine:

*Sophomore year of high school, I ran a 10 mile road race (it was a life goal of mine) AND beat my sister

*In college, I was published in the 2007-2010 editions of Zephyr

*I went to college, obtained a degree in Medical Biology, and had no help from my parents

*I bought my first car at the age of 22 WITHOUT a cosigner

*I ate three meals today

Once you recognize one thing you've done well, you start to recognize others. From there, you can start to allow yourself to be proud of these things.

And be proud of yourself, because sometimes, life is hard.

The Truth About Sex

Some really cool things were said

Last Wednesday, I dragged the boy to the state capital and we attended Moving Choice Forward for Maine; a small gathering of ProChoice advocates sharing why they're passionate about women's rights. There was free coffee, free cake, and free condoms.

There, I met a representative from Planned Parenthood, and we chatted a bit. (I had called him a few days before to see if all the speaking slots had been filled, he said that I may be able to speak at a future engagement.) Standing in the crowd, I listened to women share stories. I heard about Margaret Sanger living in a time when women shoved knitting needles inside them to terminate unwanted pregnancies. I remembered considering the same thing during my pregnancy. And as I listened to these women and men talk, the more amped up I got thinking about being able to share my story with others.

Stoked off of this new development and how awesome it would be for my memoir and platform, I was bubbling when I went to work. During a co-worker's lunch break (and because she knows about my experience in abortion), I told her the news.

"What will you talk about?" she asked. "Abstinence?"

I reeled back, thinking of my teenage years pushing the boy I loved off me because I was waiting for marriage. "No...that doesn't exactly....work."

For the remainder of the day, I started more fully considering what I'd say if given the chance. Would I talk about my own abortion and how it saved my life? Would I talk about being Pro-Life until fully faced with the decision myself?

My favorite of these is "Trust Women"

And then I told the boy about having an abortion, and braced myself for him to bail out, to yell at me, to tell me I'm damaged, or worthless.

But he didn't. He barely flinched. I asked what would happen if I did the speaking gig, and he said, "I'd be there to support you."

It made me think. I was brought up in the church to believe that Harry Potter was demonic, and gays go to hell, and sex before marriage makes you something of damaged goods. Therefore, an abortion makes you something less human.

But it's not true.

I deserve this life. I deserve a nice boyfriend (who when I'm pissed off at the coffee shop surprises me with hot chocolate). I deserve to think of myself as a woman who had a medical procedure because I made the decision that I do not want children. It doesn't make me damaged goods or less human.

It makes me human.

The truth about sex then, is that it happens. It can be fun. It can be romantic, or kinky, or awkward, or anything you want it to be. The only bad sex is the sex that isn't consensual. It's okay to be in a relationship and do the deed. It's okay to have a one night stand if that's what you're in to. It's also okay to remain abstinent for religious or personal reasons. Be human, make choices, but make sure you know why you're making these decisions.

Make Noise

One of the tips and tricks that NaNoWriMo suggested was to tell everyone that you're writing a novel. Why? Because they hope people will ask that question, "How is your novel going?" and they think that this will help keep you on track. But maybe someday when that book sells, they'll see it in a store, and say, "Whoa, I totally knew that author way back when."

"Hi. My name is Lynn(e), and I write novels.
I know I look scary, but really,
I'm not. I promise!"

Making something of yourself (aka Building a Platform) is going to be a lot like that. When people ask how you are, don't just shrug it off. Talk to EVERYONE. I don't care if you're a retail associate (::cough::...that may be what I am), and you're telling customers. If you work at McDonald's, tell your co-workers, your customers, your managers what you're up to. Talk to the people at the post office, the cashier as you check out at the grocery store. I actually got out of a $250 ticket because I chatted with the officer about moving from North Carolina, being an author, my motivational stints, etc. (Yea, totally was rocking an unregistered car and had an out of state licence )

Talk to people. If they ask, let them hear it. If they don't ask, bring it up. Even if you're not published, tell people you're an author. When you're at conferences, TALK TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON YOU PASS.

Why?

Have you written a book, or a short story? Then HELLO, that means you're an author. You didn't tell them you were a published author, and really, that may be only a matter of time. The more you tell people you write, the more potential books you've just sold. (WARNING: Once you let this little cat out of the bag, everyone and their brother will suddenly admit to being an author as well.) This is how you start to build your platform. When you talk to strangers you don't actually know who they are or what they'll do (like, you know, get you out of a $250 ticket, or set up your next public speaking gig).

Poor waitress never saw it coming.
Now she has to pretend to be interested!

I got an article about me run in the newspaper; once just talking about my life. Even now, weeks after the article ran, customers still stop in and say, "Weren't you in the paper?" Another time because I allegedly won the Tea Tag Contest (although Good Earth Tea still hasn't send the tea...so I don't know what the deal with that is...)

I tell people about the stuff from my life and BAM now I go to schools and talk about bullying or cutting. I go to a refresher to be reinstated as a snowboarding instructor and BAM, December 6th, I had a presentation to put together at a Rotary Club for adults who may be willing to help further my endeavors, bringing me to other schools to spread the message, and thus building my platform.(Although, at most schools I'm not allowed to talk about abortion, BUT I do always manage to read aloud a section of my memoir because I can make it relevant :) ).

The truth is, no one is going to make noise for you.

Think of it like this:

We've all seen Titanic, right? SPOILER ALERT: Well when Rose is pretty much freezing to death on that wooden plank, and the boats are rowing shouting, "Is anyone alive out there?" Imagine what would have happened if she just stayed quiet. Instead, she yelled, she screamed (or um, tried to). She jumped back in the freezing water to find a whistle because her voice was shot.

And she was pulled out of the water.

Fear nothing!

For a lot of us, the water we're drowning in is bills, or fearing we won't make it, or query writing. You'll freeze your ass off jumping in the water, but when you get to that whistle, you better start making noise. It's the only way you're going to get rescued.

Actual Outcomes

So dressed for success

The thing people fail to warn you about when it comes to your memoir is how much you'll cry. The first draft, I didn't do much until I finished. Then I spent a few hours drinking beer and sobbing. Then the second and third drafts ripped open wounds I was unaware I still had. I even edited a section about happy things and couldn't stop crying. It got to the point I couldn't open my word document without cringing.

And then I started reading sections out loud; to my sister, to my friends, to my mother. I read certain sections so much my eyes felt like they'd bleed. Then, I read a chapter where I was bullied to the point I attempted suicide, to a classroom.

Then, I prepared the first chapter to present in front of a room full of adults. And this, is how my presentation on December 6th, started.

I read the first chapter, and near the second page...I felt the lump in my throat. My hands took on a tremor. When I looked up (like you should during all public speaking engagements), every single eye in the room was on me.

It was hard to breathe. The small voice in the back of my head kept saying, You're just reading a book, you're just reading...But I wasn't. It was my life and it felt like I was eight years old watching my sister get beat by my father.

I sat next to the president of the
organization. Intense, no?

I didn't fully cry, but I got choked up and recovered by saying, "As you can tell, I'm still a little sensitive about all of this," and continued talking. I told the group about the presentations I did where young girls reached out and told me about the horrors they're currently living through. About the fact that they hurt themselves. I talked about the drop-out rate and how we as a society need to step in and try to guide the kids who are growing up in broken homes.

When I finished, I was surrounded by adults who hugged me, called me brave, and strong, and further confirmed that I am doing the right thing. I met a man who is involved with a high school program, and they may be able to bring me to a new district. A lot of it is in the air, but I can breathe a little easier. When I finally got in my car, I was still shaking.

There is a huge difference presenting in front of adults verses teens. I felt like I had significantly less room for error and rambling. But at the same time, hopefully it is these adults that will help spread the message that life can get better. Even if you live in a crappy household where all you're told is that you'll never amount to anything, it can get better. People will tell you your whole life that THIS (failure) is your projected outcome. It's not true. My sisters and I grew up with awful parents. We all graduated high school. We all got college degrees. We're not alcoholics,  homeless, drug addicts. We are functioning members of society.

But even with all of that, when the presentation wrapped up, I was presented with an award in my name. Suddenly, everything that I've been doing became real. Because I grew up in that environment. I'm doing what I love to do. For the first time in a million years, I'm happy.

And this is the moment everything became real

Moral of this post and of my presentation is this: No matter your circumstances, you can amount to something. You can be anything you want to be. And once you're there, you can help other people amount to whatever they want to be, too.

Happy Monday.

Tips for Public Speaking

Don't let the fact that I've gone to a middle school FOUR times to do presentations fool you, I HATE public speaking. If I drink coffee beforehand, my hands shake like they're on speed. My heart pounds so hard, I seriously think I'll pass out. My vision clouds. But I know these things will happen before I even step in front of the crowd. If you expect these things, you can stop them.

Because of all this, and the Communications, and Forensics classes I took in high school, here are some fool proof tips on public speaking:

1) Take your hands out of your pockets.
Yea, it's cool for James Dean to lean against stuff, maybe smoke a cigarette, and keep his hands in his pockets because he just looks so calm and collected. It is not cool for you to do it. So take your hands out of your pockets.

Some very famous authors, who can you spot?
Notice, they're open to the audience
and each other

2) Stop fidgeting.
Don't fiddle with things. Try not to toss your hair. Don't pick at your arm. Try to talk to the crowd like they're your best friend. (It helps if you know someone in the crowd. Glance at them from time to time, it'll keep you on task.)

3) Stand up straight.
See James Dean mention. Slouching suggests that you're nervous. If you want to own a room, own your presentation, you need to look like you walked into the room prepared, confident. Slouching will make people lose interest.

4) Look up.
If you're reading from a piece of paper, remember to look up. I have a tendency to write LOOK UP! on the margins of my papers in neon colors, because my eyes will see that, and I'll take a second. It takes practice. Use a mirror. Not only is it good for the audience to see your face, it's good for you to see the audience's faces. You can tell when they're enthralled, or losing interest. If your head is down, you're not interested in them, they won't be interested in you.

5) Um, Like, Um.....
Be prepared. Filler words like, "Um," or, "Like," make it sound like you're not ready to give this presentation. I say like WAY too much, and I'm still prone to um's, but if you take your time, and cognitively try to eliminate them, your speech will come out much smoother. When in doubt, just try to slow down. Most people talk too quickly because they want it to be over. You say "um" to fill the space that should be taken up by what you should have said. Don't say um. Slow down.

Read the body language here...
Clearly, I am not impressed by what my sister is saying

6) Remember to breathe.
It might sound like this should be obvious, but really, sometimes, it's not. This can go hand in hand with talking too quickly, or even just having an anxiety attack. Remember to take a deep breath in, deep breath out. Your presentation will go much more smoothly if you're still breathing

7) Don't cross your arms.
You don't want to come off aggressive or insecure. Crossing your arms in front of yourself suggests the possibility of either. When possible, leave your arms at your side, or if you're using a podium, you can rest them there. If you're a person who uses their hands when talking, go ahead, but when you're giving time for feedback, remain open. Crossing your arms closes you off.

I know it looks tempting
But like drugs:
Just Say No

8) No coffee first.
I'm not kidding. If you have an early morning presentation, bite the bullet and come in sober. I'm really caffeine intolerant so even a small cup gives me jitters and induces an anxiety attack. But the mission is to be calm, awake, open. Not the coked out version of whatever you have to say. If you're rocking coffee, I'd vote for decafe, at least until the presentation's over. You can always invite the audience across the street to Starbucks when you're finished.

9) Leave time for questions.
Even the president gets bombarded with questions, chances are you will, too. Even if it's random. At the end of my bullying presentation, I had a few girls come up and say, "You're so strong!" At writing conferences I always harass the panelists, even if it's to tell them what a great panel it was, or to shake their hand, or have a follow up question. Leave room to talk, leave room for questions. You may also want to offer hugs, depending on the topic.

Don't go in looking like this...

10) Fake it.
If all of these tips and tricks fail, and you're still jittery, and you're still panicking because this is your first time speaking, FAKE IT. Fake like you're calm. Smile. Remember the people in the audience are there to hear you. If you showered first, put on a nice outfit, and brushed your hair, you're already ahead of the game.


But really, the best piece of advice is once you're finished, do it again, and again, and again, until you really can stand in front of a room full of strangers in your undies and own it.

Harness your inner bad ass and rock your talk. (And wish me luck for tomorrow, please!)

Censorship

I'm not usually one to censor things. I'm not usually even one to have tact and keep my thoughts in my head, so much so that Laura is sometimes afraid to go out in public with me. Usually, I'm the one swearing up a storm, even if there's a six year old in front of me.

Last week, I got a nice eye opener.

Censorship:
It feels like someone placing a hand over your mouth

The portion of my memoir that I'd selected to read for my bullying presentation used the f-bomb two or three times. There were also some other questionable things, that after consulting the teacher, we agreed that entire sentences should be deleted, and if not deleted, reworded. When we finished editing, we had what we deemed a PG rated, middle school classroom appropriate, piece of non fiction. Something, completely un-Lynne like.

Then we discussed important things (like politics, before the election).

Days later I arrived at the school, and she printed off my chapter. I read through it (skimming mostly) mildly dejected that my beautiful words had been cut. I felt it took away from the intensity of the piece. As a writer, I was offended that duct tape was being placed over my hands. I've been influenced by strong women like Kerry Cohen who go out and tell their stories to a room full of strangers. Still, I sucked up my pride, did my presentation on bullying, and then I read the piece that we had so adamantly deemed PG.

Me with one of my slides :)

And while I read, I could hear the words through the ears of a sixth, seventh, and eighth grade girl. I saw jaws drop. I saw eyes pop open. I knew their thoughts were mainly, "Am I hearing this in school?" Part of my pausing after reading was so the girls could digest what I'd read. Part of it, was so that I could digest what I'd read.

It turned out that my piece was still intense. It still got my point across. There were no f-bombs. Several suggestive sentences had been taken out. But the piece itself held true to the story, and I was suddenly, very, very happy with the changes we'd made.

Yes, Kerry Cohen talks in front of those strangers. Those strangers are usually adults. The strangers I was talking in front of were young, impressionable girls. Yes, I want them to read what they want to read. BUT, maybe they should be at least mildly braced for things they hear.

I think the moral of this post, is that you should know when to censor yourself, and when to let 'er rip.

School Bullying

On Wednesday November 7, 2012, I was invited to Ms. Varner's ASP class. I prepared for about two weeks, doing minor interviews with friends, doing research on my own life, and assembling a power point presentation. (Somehow, without being in college anymore, I forgot how much I love power point!)

Ms. Varner in her classroom

While the groundwork for the presentation had been laid, I still wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say to the class, how to really offer them that, Wow, this may have been life changing, moment. Finally, when my time came, I stood in front of the class and said, "My name is Lynne. Was anyone here for my last presentation?" A few hands shot into the air, and I smiled. I was suddenly among friends. "Well, that one focused a bit more on my home life. Today, I'm here to do a presentation on bullying."

Osteo-Biflex, Eeyore, and a chapter
from my memoir. The things
that helped me present :)

I talked a little bit about who I am now; how I take Osteo-Biflex, and how since I was like 13 years old, I've had my Eeyore in my bed, or at least in my room, every night.

From there, I told stories, about boys who'd been bullied and turned into bullies. I talked about my sister being called Buckie-the-beaver before she got braces.

I discussed with the girls what they consider bullying, whether or not they think it differs from the way males do it verses females. One girl raised her hand, and told the class about getting calls on the weekends from girls saying, "We're having so much fun at this sleepover, why aren't you here? Oh, that's right, because we didn't invite you!" She finished with, "I don't understand why they were so mean, I never did anything to them." Most of the class agreed that girls are more calculated when they bully, that they truly intend to hurt people, where-as they feel boys are more physical (shoving, pushing, tripping).

Then, I talked about who I was at their age. How my house was disgusting, how my mother was never home. I asked them if they would have been friends with me, because while I looked clean that day, I was probably a mess at their age.

Closer to the end, I read an except from my memoir, A Walk to the Ocean which had to be slightly censored and more PG appropriate (I will cover my feelings on censorship hopefully Wednesday). The segment was about being bullied in college by my roommates and co-workers, to the point I tried to kill myself. The line I finished on said, "When I got home, my roommates continued to ridicule me that night, and for the remainder of the summer," then I paused to allow them to digest what I'd read. "When you say mean and hurtful things to people, you never know what's going on in their home lives. Take a look around the room," (I had them sitting in a half arc so they could see me and each other), "you don't know what's going on, whether or not people are getting along with their parents, fighting with their siblings. You don't know if they're being hurt at home, or even if their parents are home. I grew up in a flea infested house, where maggots were growing in the back room, and my mother wasn't ever home." I paused again as the girls looked around at each other. Some heads bowed, some faces turned red. "I came to school because it was clean, because it was safe. You don't know what will push someone over the edge."

From there, I wrapped the presentation up, challenging the girls. I told them that this is middle school. I know they're not going to get along with everyone, or even like everyone. But, maybe, they can just say hi to someone they usually wouldn't. Maybe if they see someone sitting alone during lunch, they can sit with them.

After that, I went to go see my manager from UNE, and we chatted politics, and results from the election. When I returned to Claire's she had dinner waiting:

This looks like something out of a restaurant ad, no?

I was still smiling from the presentation. She asked for some follow up questions, and told me some that she would ask the following week.

A day or so later, I got a Facebook message from one of the girls in class. We've had a few exchanges since, but she was one of the girls who attended my last presentation. She thanked me for coming in, and also said, "My response to a question you asked is: I can honestly say I would be friends with you if we were the same age."

And for a time, I'm reminded, that this is what it's all about.

Happy Monday.

Set An Example

"You Can't Kill Yourself....You Have Twitter Followers Now"
~Claire

I haven't blogged in a week because I've been digesting what's happened. Last Wednesday, I was invited to a Middle School to talk to students about my life and offer hope that they can overcome child abuse, eating disorders, depression...etc. I talked with a lot of students, had my heart broken, and I walked away thinking that I'd done some good.

My stuff, in a somewhat neat stack

I returned to the basement that night, after being so excited about the difference I was making, and found that several of the girls had already friended me on Facebook, followed me on Twitter, e-mailed me...I returned the e-mails, pitched my author page on Facebook to them, and went to sleep happy. I was making a difference.

Thursday, I woke up, in the basement. I was cold, cranky, and not wanting to move. The happiness faded. I looked around the area and my stuff was surrounding me like a prison cell. I got off the couch, and my back and leg hurt because of the way Baxter was sleeping on me. I did an interview with one of the girls as an author, things I've learned, advice to give to aspiring young authors (still the whole Don't Give Up! business)...But something started eating at me. I went to the post office, ran other errands, and got gas. At the pump, someone from the Advertiser Democrat interviewed me, so I'm in the paper today for an opinion column.

But the more I evaluated my life, the more I started feeling like a hypocrite.

Friday, I went to work. My knees hurt, I got frustrated with small things, and thought, Who am I kidding? Who am I to be talking to girls about having hope? I live in a f#$ing basement! I get paid a little above minimum wage, with a college degree. I have bills that I can barely pay...

Then the thought hit me; I have a college degree. I can do anything I want. 


Bone crushing fear took hold of my heart, I can't fail. 

It is no longer an option for me.

If I'm depressed, if something bad happens, I cannot kill myself now. Why? Because I met these incredible girls who look(ed) up to me. If I relapse, all this hope that I've been spewing will be complete bullshit to them. Keeping myself alive, keeping me going now is the only choice I have. (That whole Practice What You Preach Business.)

More of my crap. I need to downsize.

I can't mess up, can't turn to drugs, or liquor, and homelessness. All of those things are failures. Now, because I said I'd come speak to a middle school, I have to do something with my life.

This is a lot to live up to.

Last week, I received rejection letters, I didn't get the job at the vet clinic I'd applied to. I am still broke, frustrated with life, living in my friend's basement, and constantly on the cusp of giving up.

But, I don't, and I haven't, because now, I can't.

Since these epiphanies, my sister has mentioned Teach for America, as well as supporting me no matter what. I'm considering applying, but I don't know what will happen between then and now. After speaking with these girls, I do know that I want to do something that can actually affect people and start creating change and hope. (Yes, writing novels can do that, but I'm not published yet, so until I am, I need a back up plan!)

Yesterday, I went back to the school and had the girls start their own Boards of Inspiration. The idea is that this board will have happy things, things that when they're sad, will help them get through the hard times; uplifting or funny quotes, pictures, inspiring words. I walked around the room, and saw several of them were putting TWLOHA pictures on their boards, and my heart flew (I wore their shirt to speak on the first day. Yesterday, I wore a Boycott BP shirt :) ).

A lot of the girls seemed really happy to see me, and I felt blessed to be back.

When I left, I went to Claire's, dropped off some food, and then went to my UNE manager's house. It was his 18th wedding anniversary, and they fed me lobster. His wife asked why I was asked to speak at the school, and I told her about my hospitalization, my eating disorder, my depression. She looked at me point blank and said, 'You had an eating disorder?' and I answered,  'Yes. Your husband was one of the people to help pull me out of it.'

When I left, they told me that they were proud of me, and if I need any help getting a place to live financially, they'd help me, no questions asked.

So here's what I've come to conclude. I'm not full of bullshit. I struggle with depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder every day of my life. Each night that I fall asleep without hurting myself is a victory. Each morning I wake up, is another day to influence people, to be a role model. I have scars on my leg, and wrist, but I try every day to push through. I won't tell them that life will be easy, because I, and most people know that THAT is a lie. Instead, I'll tell them that they can get through anything, because they can, and I am living proof of that.

Yay for being happy!

Thus, I've decided that I'm sick of living life the way I've been, it's time to start making changes. I moved to Maine to find happiness, and at Sunday River, I found it. Now, it's time to start making a difference. It's time to start being someone that truly deserves to be looked up to. I told Claire last night that while these girls may think I made a difference in their lives, they've completely changed mine.

First things first, find a place to live.

Influencing The Youth

"Whenever You Knock Me Down, I Will Not Stay On The Ground"
~Justin Bieber (Yea, that's right, totally quoted him)

The Middle School

I was invited to a middle school yesterday to speak on the trials I've been through in my life, and it went in directions I was completely unprepared for. My friend, Claire invited me weeks ago, and two nights ago I finally had some time to more fully prepare for what I was going to say. Claire asked me point blank, "What's the number one thing you hope they remember after you see them?" I responded, "That they can survive anything."

So, I sat there thinking, what are things that keep me going? And I went to work; I removed some pictures from my Board of Inspiration, and added some things I've been meaning to add for awhile. I laid out my clothes the night before (jeans and a TWLOHA shirt after some people gave me suggestions on Twitter), packed my bag full of books I've been published in, and other things that inspire me (like my James Frey book), and went to sleep, giddy, excited, and partially terrified.

In the morning, I woke up, showered (amazingly), attempted to straighten my hair which was immediately destroyed once I walked out in the humidity, loaded up Baxter and drove an hour to Fryeburg. I called both of my sisters on the drive, and they both pushed me, told me that I'd be great, that my (our) message is something worthwhile.

I parked my car, arrived a little early, and looked at the school. It was huge, I didn't know anyone but Claire there. Then Patrick called me from Germany to wish me luck, and tell me I'd do great. The lyric from Vanessa Carlton starting going through my head, "I try to live up to the moment, and hope that I don't blow it," and headed into the school.

Board of Inspiration (It's much more
complete after the presentation)

I found the office, and checked in. There were kids talking about getting sent home for, "smoking dope, but I didn't do it," and for a brief second, I thought maybe, just maybe I am meant to be here. I talked to those kids about my eyebrow rings, my lip ring, and then went up to Claire's room.

We ate lunch (which is awesome, she's such a good cook!), and I wrote a phrase on the white board that I'd heard my entire life growing up, "You'll never amount to anything."

The kids started filtering in, buzzing with excitement which was infectious and terrifying. I was shaking from the moment I'd walked into the school, and now there were several girls sitting in front of me, hoping I'd say something worth while. Suddenly all those moments of overcoming anxiety, and volunteering to read Bingo cards, and practicing were coming into play. This was real life, I was about to talk to real people, who were here to listen to...me.

Claire introduced me as Lynne though she knows me as Stephanie, and I started talking, about my dad, the drunken night he'd lost custody. I talked about what my sisters and I have accomplished. I told them about cutting, my eating disorder, depression, my mother. I read them three pages from Character Defects, that I wrote based on a fight with my mother, and why I wrote it.

And then I told them about having hope, and being positive. I told them about my Board of Inspiration, to set goals, to give themselves something to look forward to. As I spoke, I tried to watch the audience, and there were girls tearing up or silently crying as I talked about what my parents did to me. When it was over, I was asked to go into the hall and speak with some girls in small groups.

Me and Claire (respectively)
Doin' our thing, trying to give
hope

I heard things in those groups that made me want to excuse myself and cry in the bathroom, with them, for them. People talk about censorship a lot in novels because they're afraid of what it'll do to the children. These young women in front of me went and are going through more than I, or you, can possibly imagine. I wanted to find their parents and violently shake them in the hopes that it'd knock some sense into them. I just can't understand how these girls could possibly be unloved, abused, or hurt. All I wanted to do was hug them, tell them that it'll be okay, and that I'm so, so sorry.

They were all so amazing, so honest, and so afraid of what they're going through. All I could do was tell them that it'll get better, that they can get through anything because by breathing, by being at school today, they're proving it.

When it was all said and done, they gave me hugs, thanked me, and asked to take pictures of me like I was someone or something worthwhile. One of the girls even wrote me a letter thanking me for helping her, and I started tearing up (it will end up on my Board soon).

I didn't do much, I just told them about me, and listened to them.

Some time later, I was at Claire's and checked my e-mail and there were already e-mails from some of the girls I didn't get to speak with, and their stories reaffirmed that I'm doing something right by sharing my life with them. I spent close to an hour composing a response to one, and then an hour chatting with one today who is an aspiring author.

The bottom line, is that some people ban books and censor things because they think it's terrible language, or too intense for their young minds to understand. The truth I witnessed yesterday was that these terrible intense things are daily life for a lot of our youth. It needs to change. Their voices need to be heard and understood.

To end this on a bit of a happy note; Claire sent me home some brownies and a lot of food. So I ate brownies for breakfast this morning, yay!

Also, we're planning do to a follow up with the girls soon, any suggestions what I should come back with?