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.

To Write Love On Her Arms

I bring TWLOHA up a lot on this blog. During October, when I was going crazy, Patrick bought me my first TWLOHA shirt, with a small note that said something like, "Keep fighting." That was it. And it was enough.

I haven't worn this shirt since that time.
But I'm breaking it out today :)

I wore that shirt for days (and nights) on end for a couple of reasons: 1) Because it was black, and that was all I was wearing for about a month 2) Because Patrick had gotten it for me. Weeks before I'd been laying with him and asked point blank, "What would you do if I killed myself?" This was before I'd taken the test, before I fully knew the truth, but I'd had my suspicions. His response? "It's something I would never forgive you for." This shirt, this timing, reminded me of that, it gave me strength to wake up in the morning...even if I wasn't moving, yet. 3) It was a TWLOHA shirt. If you don't know what it is, click the link in the first sentence. They're an amazing organization that reminds people that they aren't alone, that there's hope. We all have our battles, we also have supportive people, strangers, pets, that can help us get through those battles when we're not strong enough to get through them on our own.

Today is March 30. This marks the 6 year anniversary for To Write Love On Her Arms. In that small time frame, they've saved lives, connected lives.

Never forget that YOU (whoever you are reading this), you are important, and you are beautiful. Don't be afraid of the darkness within you, we all have it, too. It's what makes us human, it's what reminds us to be strong for others.

#WearTWLOHA