Category Archives: Essays

Fearing What Others Thought Of Me

Posted on by Standard Respond

 

In my life, I’ve tried to be as nice a person as I can. But I’ve had a lot of fears that my efforts were failing. In choir, I’d sing in a bit of a freestyle sort of to make others laugh and have a bunch of fun in class, with the fear that people would think I’m a showoff or a conceited, self-loving jerk. I’d get angry at bullies when they’d try to do something to me that I don’t like, with the fear of others thinking I was a bully, too. But I learned to conquer it, with the help of some friends and teachers along the way.

 

I’ve had a fear of bullies because I fear I will get worked up after what they do. Many bullies say hurtful things to me that make me feel mad. After bullies do something to me, the impact of their words would hit me pretty hard. It was like my brain was immediately set to retaliating and getting angry. I would say something like,” Hey, stop it! Now!”, causing them to say something like,” Hey, (blank) you! I’m just minding my business, how about you mind yours?” The truth was, the bullies were not minding their own business; they were trying to annoy others. I’d say,” You aren’t minding your own business, you’re being a jerk!” And then someone would come and try to break it up. The next time the bully saw me, they would try to call attention to themselves and attempt to humiliate me. By then, I feel like I’ve said what I needed to say, and that I’m done with the dispute. But the ordeal wouldn’t be over. I’d fear someone would come up to me and say something like,” Jerk”, or “a*****e”, or “stop being a bully”. But through this, I had a lot of friends who’d back me up throughout everything. My best friend, Emily, is always there to reassure me that I am not a bully at all, I just should learn to ignore the bullies unless it directly effects me. Thanks to that, I’ve built up a lot of courage, and I feel a lot better about myself these days.

 

I’ve had a fear in the past that people will think of me as a bully because they would think that I’m a showoff or something like that. It started when this kid named Austin started picking on me. He would always try to start up some sort of argument. It usually sparked in choir, when we would sing songs. I had a tendency to try and stand out, only in an attempt to have fun in class and make others laugh. Austin often tried to get me mad and start up an argument, saying,” You know, you brag a lot, you’re stuck up and selfish….” I’d start to defend myself by raising my voice slightly, such as,” No, I’m not!” And he’d get up in my face, yelling,” YES, YOU ARE! YOU’RE SUCH A JERK!”, which is when the choir director, Ms. Provencher, would have to come in and break up the dispute. This kid would talk to a bunch of other friends of mine, and I feared he would make others turn on me. After months of feuding on-and-off with him, I finally came to Mr. DeRigge’s office to talk to him about it. He suggested that Austin and I talk. I was reluctant at first, knowing how much he hated me and how much I hated him. But he gave me a bit of a sense that this was my chance to prove to him that I was doing what was right. Before our talk, he clarified to us that this would not be a loud, or violent dispute. It would just be one-on-one, giving our points of view. I let Austin explain first, but then he started bickering with me that I was just doing this to seem nice. I let him continue anyway. He said I was the one who instigated this feud, not him, and that I was the bully. He told me I showed off and intended to start up a feud. BELIEVE ME when I tell you this, everything he said was false. But I listened to all of it without saying a word. When it was my turn, though, Austin butted in and interrupted tons of times in an unprofessional manner. I still kept my cool though, and I finished what I had to say. Mr. DeRigge came up with a new policy for us: Agree to disagree. I went with it, and agreed not to talk to him for a while. Austin said he wanted to hang out with me and he told me I can’t ignore him like that, but I knew he was lying. But I noted that he showed a lot of immaturity in that meeting, and I was convinced that I had more courage, and that he could not do anything to bring me down anymore. Ms. Provencher, the choir director, is leaving after this year, and one day, we exchanged papers with our names on it, writing compliments about each other. Ms. Provencher said in her comment,” Don’t worry about what others think of you. You’re a great kid.” After that, my fear of appearing as a showoff vanished.
Both these fears were really hard to conquer this year. I always thought that everyone would think something bad of me because of the way I’d react to bullies, or if they thought I was selfish, or a showoff. But I had so many friends along the way that truly understood me and helped me become a more confident person: My best friend, Emily Van Court, was always there for me. She felt she could connect to my struggles, and she showed that she truly cared about me like a brother. She felt like a sister to me. My friend Jonathan Petrini and I would often hang out in Spanish class and joke around and have fun. It made me feel like I had a true friend in him. Also, my friend Janelle, is also really nice to me. She’s a kind person and always fun to hang out with and sit and talk to. It was always fun to hang out with those guys this year. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to get through this year.

Solving my Problems

Posted on by Standard Respond

I know I’m scared of 3 things and each probably has a memory it stemmed off of.The first is being stranded in an unfamiliar place. The second is being someone else. The third is being alone. I’m hoping to find where these fears came from in this essay.

The first fear is always at the back of my mind. What would I if all the people I knew disappeared or worse, never existed? What if one day I woke up in a house that I’ve never seen before and realized later on that I was the only person on Earth? If anything I’d go insane after a couple of days. I think this fear would probably come from me having siblings that I care about. All my life I’ve never been completely alone for more than a hour. It would feel like I was at the bottom of the ocean. I would be a hermit at the bottom of the ocean. That would be awful.

The second fear is something I ponder at times. I’m happy with my life and body. I would never replace the life I have if I ever had the choice. I wouldn’t even trade my life for a celebrities or billionaires life. I could never give up my family or friends. I could also never give up all the things I learned throughout my life. I could also never give up the bad things that happens in life. Those make me a better and stronger person.

The third fear is more passive because I only really feel it after awhile of being alone. I always thought that if I went to college, I would either be in a dorm with a roommate or living with my mom. This probably stems off of growing up with brothers and a dog. Most of the time I don’t mind it but after awhile of thinking it gets to me.

I’m glad I wrote this because after lots of heavy thinking I found out I care about my family and friends and that I’m happy with who I am. Fears can help you find yourself. Now I feel like a stronger person.

Coaster Phobia

Posted on by Standard Respond

One hot summer day, Mary and her 3 friends Lola, Gary and Sam decided to take a trip to their favorite amusement park Six Flags. All of them had been there before except little Mary she was scared of roller coasters. She decided she would try to get over her fear of roller coasters by going with them to the amusement park. After an hour drive the finally got into the park. They were gonna get on the newest roller coaster in the park first the Dragon but while going to the line Mary started to get butterflies in her tummy. So she made an excuse saying they should take a dip in the pool first since it was so hot. So they all left the line and ran to the pool.

Then Gary said,“Come on I think we should go back to the roller coaster now” but then again Mary made another excuse saying she was really hungry and they couldn’t get on rides with an empty tummy. Do they all rushed to the food stands and got some chicken fingers and fries.While eating Lola said now we really have to go to the roller coaster after this and they every said yeah except Mary. Then, they all ran to the roller coaster.

This time Mary had no excuses for them to not get on the roller coaster and they were already in the front of the line. The group that had just got off the roller coaster had a little girl running off crying. Mary was terrified and had a nervous look on her face. Lola saw that she looked kinda scared and told her everything was gonna be alright it’s just a ride. Then Gary said “Yeah its not like we’ll get stuck upside down or something hopefully not” Then he started laughing. Sam smacked Gary and said “Oh be quiet” then Gary said “I’m just kidding”then roller coaster control dude said alright now next up. Mary stood still and silent for a second.

Lola said, “Mary if it makes you feel better you can sit next to me and hold my hand if you want” Mary smiled and said OK. When the ride started Mary squeezed Lola’s hand Lola smiled. By the time they got off Mary was screaming but screaming in excitement. And asked all of her friends if they wanted to ride again they all laughed and said no lets try the next roller coaster. That day Mary had got rid of her fear of roller coaster. They were now her favorite thing now she wanted to go ride one every day for the rest of the summer.

The Future shows Why

Posted on by Standard Respond

Vash Young once said “All my life I had feared to-morrow, until I decided to have faith and to live to-day in courage.” This means that Vash Young is saying that she was always afraid of what could happen in the future but you have to have faith and courage and live in the present because who knows what is going to happen in the future. Failing is my biggest fear because my future depend on what I do in the present.

Not having enough money can make a really big impact on whether you go to college or not. For example you need a lot of money to pay off to go to college except if you have a scholarship. This means if I don’t get a scholarship it will be extremely hard for me to get into college, since my parents don’t have enough money to actually pay for college. To go to college you will need a lot of money or have a lot of determination to be successful and be excellent at school you can get a scholarship.

Your future is very dependent on whether you have an education or not and if you fail at school your dreams can be shattered. For example if you are not good enough to go to college, then you wont have an education and you wont have the life that you wanted. This means that your future is dependent on the what you do in the present. If you fail in life your future will be like a mirror of what happened because of your failure.

Failing today will affect my tomorrow. Failing can affect your opportunity to go to college and as a result can affect your life. Your future is dependent on a lot of things. For example money has a very big impact on whether or not you go to college and your determination for success also has a very big impact on whether you go to college or not. If you go to college that has an impact on what your future can be. Fear is not an obstacle it’s just another reason to keep trying.

Bigger In New York

Posted on by Standard Respond

“Failed plans should not be interpreted as a failed vision. Visions don’t change, they are only refined. Plans rarely stay the same, and are scrapped or adjusted as needed. Be stubborn about the vision, but flexible with your plan.” John C. Maxwell says. I agree with his statement. I try to think through his perspective, but shame myself when I don’t try hard enough to work toward my goal because although I am only 13, I have grand plans for my life. I plan to a high school for the arts, attend FIT college in New York City, live in a beautiful neighborhood, get married, and have adorable children. Even though this plan may be refined over time, it will basically stay the same. As a grow, I expect to follow this plan. It’s almost like an easy-to-follow map to keep my life on track. My biggest fear is that this plan will be ruined by an unexpected event, and make my life like a roller coaster, with unforeseen twists and turns. I wouldn’t mind a few surprises, but I have goals in mind that I fear I may not be able to reach if my life takes another path.

 

When I was ten, I heard about the Fashion Institute of Technology. It seemed like a dream. Right out of a barbie movie, where I could have the chance to be the star. Since I loved drawing, painting, and shopping, I thought, “I could be a fashion designer!” To attend college in the heart of the city, learn about fashion, be exposed to different trends, noises, sounds and cultures made me dizzy with excitement. When we drove to the big apple around Thanksgiving time later that year, I visited the FIT museum to look around. I was astounded by all the history, artifacts, beautiful clothing, and exotic labels. There, I discovered Lauren Bacall. She was a beautiful old Hollywood actress and fashionista, born in the 1920’s. Her clothing was on display. Her Bacall and the Boys fall 1960’s fall fashion preview was playing on a projector.  I watched her movies, read some of her autobiography, Lauren Bacall, By Myself (personally signed, thanks to my grandmother) and analyzed her perfect eyebrows. Then I began to think, “Why can’t I be like her?”

 

That’s where my plan began. Every night after, I had dreams about college. Endless fun, cute outfits, and my name in lights. I craved to be in the city. The noise, smells, and the ora of it all made butterflies dance in my stomach. It seemed so perfect and achievable, but somewhere, buzzing in the back of my mind, I knew it was unrealistic. I directed my thoughts towards the positive aspects of a flexible future, but was disheartened to know that my life wouldn’t be as glamorous as Bacall’s movies.

 

Now, I have a slightly different way of seeing things. I will work towards smaller goals. One of my goals is to be more accepting of an unplanned fate. I will close my eyes and try my best to go where the wind blows me. Sometimes I confuse myself, because I am very flexible with the changing of small plans. If I wanted to wear a dress to school but it was in the washing machine, I would never throw a fit. Even if a family vacation was cancelled, I wouldn’t be too sad about it. But I will try to let go of my fear of messing up my overall plan, one small goal at a time. Like John Maxwell says, “Failed plans should not be interpreted as a failed vision.” I will try my hardest to do as these words say, and to embrace wherever life takes me.

 

Lost At Sea

Posted on by Standard 1

This story is about my Grandpa who lives in Los Angeles, California, and how he has courage. Every year since 2011, I have gone to Los Angeles in the beginning of June. I go there with my mom, dad, and sister. My grandpa and grandma have their own boat there. They always invite us to come there every June, and go on their boat and sail to an island called Catalina. We sail there, it takes about 6 hours to sail there without using the motor.  We watch the fireworks there, swim in the ocean there, make lots of new friends there, and do all the things we can’t do here. This is probably my favorite trip of the summer. We leave for Catalina June 3 and come back on June 6th in the evening. When we come back, we fly back to Virginia the very next day.

My Grandpa took a trip to Mexico on his boat with a couple of his friends from Los Angeles. He got to Mexico, did what he had to do there, and enjoyed the time there with 3 of his good friends. About a week later, my Grandpa and three of his boat friends boarded my Grandpa’s boat. My Grandpa’s boat was a racing boat that he competes in lots of competitions in. But on this trip, they were going nice and slow, not using the motor, they were just enjoying the ride back home. Once they reached the West end of Mexico, a couple of days later, near a city called La Paz, the weather started to get worse and worse. They still had about 1,850 miles to go. There was nothing that my Grandpa and my friends could do about it. They were not close to land, so they could not dock the boat and stay the night.  The waves continued to get bigger and bigger, the wind picked up and it started to storm. It was pouring rain and the boat was filling up with water. The weather continued to get worse and worse over the course of the next couple of days. The weather got so bad and the ocean was so choppy that the tip of the boat separated from the boat and drifted away into the distance. The four of them had started to run low on food, they had to eat less food while in the ocean. My grandpa never gave up, and he never lost his courage. He always believed that he would make it back to Los Angeles to see all of us again. Weeks later, my Grandpa and three friends were still alive but still were in the ocean. They were getting very close, they would be arriving in the next day or two. The weather had cleared up, 10 mph winds and clear skies, no waves at all. One day later, they docked at the Marina. My Grandpa shows courage by never giving up and always believing that he would make it back to the United States alive.

Memoir

Posted on by Standard 2

***For the protection and confidentiality of the truly wonderful and brave, I have changed all the names of the other clients in this story.***

It all began on December 9th, 2014.  I was 12 years old, and very disoriented.  The inside of my head was spinning, and the room was dark, but the disco lights from the Christmas tree added a rainbow glow to the dull room.  Everything was blurred together, and I could hardly breathe.

 

“Please,” I wailed one more time, just because I didn’t know what else to do.

 

“Don’t send me away.  Please.”

 

The volume of my voice rose to a shriek, then back down to a low whimper, as it had been doing for the past twenty minutes, after I processed the fact that my parents really were going to send me away, to a treatment center, when I clearly didn’t want recovery.  At that point in my life, I would rather die than gain a single pound.   That was it.  I knew I had to act fast.  I jumped up from the soft brown couch, and flung my arm out.  My fingers caught on a string of lights, and the tree tumbled to the ground.  Treasured glass ornaments shattered upon contact with the wooden floor, and through the haze, I saw every detail, as if I were viewing it in the form of a slow motion movie. I knew I had to get out of there, so I fled through the front door, slamming it behind me.  As I ran up my dim block, lit only by the candle-like glow from the houses, block, I wondered where I should go.  I deeply considered running away from home, like the kids from “The Boxcar Children”.

 

One of my closest friends, Sophia, lived nearby; only about two blocks away- I walked to school with her every day.  I argued with myself over whether or not  I should flee to her house; and the only thing that stopped me was the fact that I knew they would take me back where I couldn’t return.  So, after contemplating what the best move was, I decided to run around the block a few times, after all,  if my parents had their way, it would probably be my last chance for a while to burn a few calories.

 

When I finally gave up and returned to my house, I found that my mom had already begun to pack my suitcase.  My dad was out looking for me, but I was too exhausted to care.  I balled up under my covers and cried myself to sleep, letting all the anger seep out with my tears.  Sometime around one AM, I awoke with a subconscious need to exercise, as I had every night for the past few weeks.

 

Just a few days earlier, I had told my mom, through gritted teeth, that I would rather be skinny than have all the happiness in the world.  Whenever I walked through the school hallway to my classes, I concentrated on comparing the size of my legs to those of people at their lockers.   I may not have wanted it, but I sure did need help.  I gave up all my anger towards my parents, and it dawned on me that I would be away from them for a long time, with strangers, in a place where I would have to eat.  I stumbled into their dark room, and my mom invited me to sleep between her and my dad, as I had done in my younger childhood.  I curled up beside her and sobbed into her shoulder.

 

After my sisters left for school, my mom took me to Barnes and Noble, where I picked out stationary, because I couldn’t have my phone, and I had limited phone time on the phone at the facility.  Then, it was straight to Center For Discovery, or CFD.  When I got there, it took me a while to realize that it was a house, and not that we were in the wrong place.  They really weren’t kidding when they called it a ‘residential treatment center.’ In the atrium, there was a huge glass chandelier, and there were teens in the background, just as emaciated as me.  When my parents filled out forms in the formal, I was taken up to one of the therapist’s offices, to be questioned.  I was asked everything from my treatment preferences (not to be there) to how many times I eat a day (none, if it were up to me).  The worst part of that process was that they made me eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carrots with hummus.  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t try to get rid of it.  After many tears were shed and my parents departed, the staff brought me downstairs to the art room, where the other people (they called us clients) were tye dying shirts, and I thought to myself, ‘Well this isn’t so bad!’

 

Just about an hour later, I was told that group was starting.  I had no idea what they were talking about, but I followed the others to the living room/ group room, where there was a movie set up.  One of the other clients, Amanda, (she was my roommate, as I would soon find out) told me; “It’s time for documentary group.”  We watched a film about how women are influenced to look a certain way.

“People shouldn’t care enough about other people’s bodies to tell them how they should look.”  I thought out loud in the discussion after the documentary,  trying to be inspirational. Which was hard, considering, that, at this particular moment in my life, I didn’t really believe the words coming out of my mouth.

“I agree,” Amanda began, “People shouldn’t care… It’s not about them, so why do they feel the need to make it their business?”  Then the conversation took an abrupt turn to a get-to-know-you type of talk between me and everyone else.  There was a bulimic boy, Chris, who told hysterical stories about people he hardly even knew, and drew amazing pictures.  He had been there for just under a month.  Zoë, who had been at CFD for roughly three weeks, had been struggling with anorexia for three years, and she was basically me, just older; Amanda, who was ‘celebrating’ her first week-versary, was anorexic as well, and she was sort of the popular girl of the group; there was Alexis, who had been there since just after Chris; the shy, quiet type, who was actually an exciting, funny girl when she opened up to you, and there was Margaret, who would eventually have a turn-around and become one of my best friends ever, but at the time, she never said a word and cried in the corner 24/7.  She had been at CFD for about two weeks.  Then there was me, the 12-year-old anorexic girl who they all looked at funny because I was too young, too weird, too innocent.

 

On my first night, as I was walking to the nurse’s area, which was only accessible through the art room, Alexis gestured for me to come over by the art room sink.  When I got there, she asked me; “Do you think I’m fat?  Be honest.”  I was taken aback.  Wasn’t there some sort of rule where the ‘F’ word was ‘fat’ here?  I had no idea how to reply, so I said what I thought would be the most supportive to this poor girl, who didn’t know the unspoken rule of eating disorders- ‘You don’t talk to people about it, you simply believe that the truest thing ever is the fact that you are fat.’ I stuttered over the first few syllables as I began to speak.  “F-fat?!?!” I exclaimed, “You? You’re not fat, you’re healthy.”  I don’t know why I thought that this would make her feel better, considering, in an eating disorder mind, ‘fat’ and ‘healthy’ are synonyms.  I suppose I had thought that because she had been there for about a month, she would be past that way of thinking.  I was wrong.

 

“Oh… I uh, I have to go.”

She fled the room, clearly hurt.  Had I really screwed up yet again?  It seems like that’s all I do in my life- mess up.  Hurt people.  Offend my peers.  Disobey those superior to me.  Oh well, to me, at least then, it was all worth it.  I didn’t need anyone to like me, not if I could be skinny.

 

Days passed without leaving the house, and I was forced to eat more and more, without exercising at all.  I felt trapped, but eventually, I was allowed to go on walks.  I still had two daily visits with the nurse, and blood drawn every few days.  However I acted to the other clients and to the staff, I was not remotely motivated to put this behind me.

 

Christmas time rolled around, and I was forced to eat unhealthy holiday food.  Amanda discharged (left- she was doing well enough to remain stable without the aid of 24/7 support) and Chris was sent to another treatment center, this one for drug abuse.  There were two new girls, Lia, who adored puzzles, but slept a lot; and Becca, who was quite a fun person with lots of drama going on in her life, which overwhelmed her, so that she ignored her life and focused only on her eating disorder.

I may have thought I was ready to go home, but the truth was, I was still so focused on my weight that 90% of the topics written in my journal were just that- “I’m fat enough already!”  “Haven’t I met my goal weight?”  “I really don’t want- or need- to gain any more weight!”  “Why can’t I know how much I weigh?  I know I’m fat!  What’s the harm?”  In order to recover, I needed to let all this go, but I simply refused.  For over 50 days, I refused.  I told myself that I could recover without giving up my passionate desire to be, basically, an emaciated body from the holocaust.  I needed to let myself fall into recovery, instead of trying to leave without doing so.  If I wanted to get out, I had to smile, let my worries go, and burst my eating disorder as you would a balloon.

 

“Day 28: 1/6/15

‘No more writing down what you eat’ is what Maureen, the resident dietician, said, so I guess I won’t be doing that anymore.  At the restaurant outing, I wanted to get a pesto-veggie sandwich, but Maureen said I had to get a veggie burger, because there wasn’t enough protein in the sandwich, but when we got back to the house, she made me have a cheese stick for extra protein anyways!  It snowed, so I couldn’t go on walk again- it’s not fair!  I need the exercise!  Lia fell asleep on the couch and we started dinner without her, and didn’t realize she was missing from the table for like 5 minutes!  My family meal is on Friday for am snack, but and I hope this means I can discharge soon, but I really don’t want to weigh more than I do right now!  I’m fat enough already!”

 

“Day 29: 1/7/15

I should be discharged already, but we haven’t even talked about it.  Ugh! It’s not fair! I’m staying here getting fat for no reason!!! WTF?!?!?!  I just want to be skinny.  Is that too much to ask?  Alexis went for a run today, and now she isn’t allowed to prep any meals or snacks, and I feel like that’s my fault, because I went running on Sunday which gave her the idea, but I didn’t get caught.  Margaret and I did a new yoga video today, because we couldn’t go on walk. (it was too cold)  It was really cool- there are really fun bicycle crunches and stuff.”

 

“Day 30: 1/8/15

My family meal is tomorrow at am snack, and I’m really excited, but I’m terrified of gaining weight!  Laura, one of the staff members, broke the glass part of the blender at breakfast, so now we can’t have smoothies, which sucks, because I planned for having three or four in just the two upcoming days!  I went outside this morning on the porch in shorts, and it was supposedly 5-7°F, but it didn’t feel remotely cold!  But, unfortunately, we can’t go on walk for the fourth day in a row.  (probably- walk happens after lunch, and I am currently writing, before walk time- it’s am snack prep), but maybe we could do more yoga videos instead.  I’m really nervous/anxious/anticipatory for contract group!  I hope I moved up phases/ can prep more meals/snacks/ moved up exercise levels, but I’m sure to be disappointed, most likely about everything.  We’ll see!”

 

As I got further and further into recovery, things got better and better.  By the time my birthday rolled around, I had been there for two months and a day, but recovery was finally getting to me.  The other two clients, Lia and Genevieve, made a scavenger hunt for me, and with every clue there was a small gift.  Throughout the day, staff, therapists, and clients surrounded me with love and, of course, presents.  I had never felt so happy or loved in my life.  As the day came to a close, my family came to the house for dinner (I couldn’t go home for a pass because that didn’t give us enough time to celebrate- it was a school night for my sisters), and we had my favorite meal- pasta salad, and for dessert, chocolate-strawberry cake with whipped cream frosting.  I enjoyed every bite I ate that night, something I hadn’t done in so long, I had to focus all of my attention onto it.  From my parents, I got a bean bag and a new quilt for my bed (my mom made it!), and from my sisters, I got books.  I fell asleep feeling happy and giddy.  I was just starting to jump into recovery, and it was as satisfying as jumping into a pit of balloons is for a little kid.

 

The following day, I got to know the new client, Linnea, a little bit better.  She arrived on my birthday, but I was so caught up in all the festivities, I didn’t get to welcome her.  It turns out, she went to the same middle school as me, and she also had Mr. Alderton for 7th grade gym.  We bonded over that, and she told me “I think he knew about my eating disorder,” and when I replied with , “Why do you say that?”, she explained, “Well, he always talked about how we had to refuel our bodies after physical activity, as he looked directly at me.  Also, in the nutrition unit, he made sure that we knew that under eating is just as bad as overeating.”  That comment took me back to the nutrition unit at the beginning of the year, in which Mr. Alderton hadn’t said a word about undereating, and this brought me to the conclusion that he really did know about Lauren’s eating disorder, but maybe not mine, because he hadn’t taught us about the harmful effects of not getting proper nutrition, although he had subtly hinted at it with her class, and his comments had seemed directed at her, at least from the way she told the story.  She seemed quiet at first, but after Genevive, Lia, and I showed her how to play steam rollers, (you roll around on the floor and whoever can roll over the other person wins that round) she offered the idea of having a bean bag fight.  We did- and ten minutes later, we all stood in the center of the room, hair plastered to our faces, trying to catch our breath, but failing to- we were all laughing too hard.

 

Another fond memory was with my therapist, Georgia, about the time of my dad’s birthday (late January).  We had blown up nearly a hundred balloons and stuffed them in Margret’s closet (she was discharging the following day), and when she opened the door, there was a downpour of balloons.  We just couldn’t let that be all the fun we had with the balloons we had spent so much breath and hard work filling, so we hid them behind a chair (it was in the corner of the room, but at an angle, so that a triangle was created from the back of the chair and the wall) in Georgia’s office, and the next morning, at the close of my therapy session, I ran, full speed at the armchair, hurdled over the back, and landed with a satisfyingly loud series of pops.  She was taken aback by the event, but, being the wonderful person she is, hopped in and joined me.  For weeks, we all enjoyed the fulfilling closure of a nice jump in the balloon pit whenever we left Georgia’s office.

 

Though, towards the end of my time out of school, most of the memories are fond, there were still some moments that weren’t 100% joyful.  I was sitting on the familiar grey sofa in the basement office (Georgia’s office), fiddling with one of the blue-green decorative pillows.  We were in session, discussing plans for after discharge, while, in my head, I was contemplating whether or not I should ask when, exactly, I would discharge.  Finally, I gathered up the courage to mumble the question which had been on my mind for months, but only now did I really feel that I was ready.  “Georgia,” I murmured under my breath, “When do you think I will discharge?  Do you think it will be before my birthday?” I hardly expected her to reply with a yes, and my predictions were correct.  “I’m sorry Erms,” she replied, sounding genuine (Erms was my nickname given from her and Lia) “But I don’t think so, just because we need to see how things work out.”

“Yeah,” I replied, disappointed that the best-case-scenario wasn’t what had happened.  I don’t really remember what happened after that, but I do remember that I was about to leave without jumping into the balloon pit, but Georgia stopped me and asked “Aren’t you going to jump in?”  I didn’t really have it in me to be lighthearted or frivolous enough to enjoy that, but I hopped in anyways, just to make her happy.  As I took the flying leap into the corner, I smiled to myself.  Not just because I wasn’t as upset anymore, but because I was enjoying myself.  I didn’t really care how I looked in that moment, I just cared that I was having fun.   I lept into the balloon pit as I had lept into recovery- at first, I tried to avoid it, but then, with some coaxing, I wholeheartedly flung myself into it.

The Depths Of Fear: A True Story

Posted on by Standard Respond

 

I walked into the hotel pool area, my heart pounding as loud as a drum in a marching band, with the cool, muggy air enveloping my body and stifling my ability to breathe clearly. I was walking into my first swim lesson that I had ever remembered, let alone my first time spending a long amount of time in a pool. When I walked onto the pool deck, what I saw immediately made my heart sink. A young, African-American guy with a thick, black beard was soothingly convincing a young toddler to float and turn over, a toddler! I felt like I was the dumbest kid on earth, (who was a rising sixth grader!) one who didn’t even know how to swim!

All the past summers as far back as I can remember at every summer camp, I would never even dip a toe into a pool, I would never go into the pool, I was the only kid who never went into the pool, I thought I was the weirdest person ever. I was always scared of the water because  I thought that I would drown or worse. The voice of the other male instructor at the other end of the pool told me to enter the pool which snapped me out of my flashbacks, so I timidly walked over and clutched the metal railing while inching my way down the baby steps into the pool. The surprisingly warm water greeted my body as I descended into the pool.

The lesson went by fast, with my instructor convincing me to go on my back and float, with him supporting my head. After that lesson I felt a tiny bit proud but with a whopping side of fear about what would happen next. Those short half-hour lessons went by, week by week, month by month, and over the period of a year with two different instructors, learning many more strokes from freestyle to breaststroke. But soon I was finally going to face my second biggest fear: the big pool.

From when I had started to that current time, I had always felt comfortable in the small, warm hotel pool but was quickly growing out of it. At my last time in the small hotel pool, my instructor told me that I was going to be going into the bigger pool. When those words came out of his mouth, I felt a jolt of fear in my heart, one that made me fear the future once again. Once I had walked into our cavernous neighborhood indoor pool the next week, all I could think about was how deep the water was going to be that I was swimming in and drowning in the pool. To my shock, when I went out into the cold, warehouse-like pool, I saw that I was swimming in some of the same depths as in the hotel pool. My biggest challenge yet, diving into very deep water was going to happen just a mere few weeks after.

On that day, after swimming for a half hour and told to go to the diving area, my heart started pounding as loudly as the first time I first went into the hotel pool. When I got over to the diving area, everyone else started diving and I just watched while my instructor slowly persuaded me to dive in a little bit. When I dived in, it felt like was in an aquarium, with it seeming like the pool had a endless bottom pit, with no where to go. I also felt like everything was distorted. like when you use the wrong glasses and everything gets distorted and out of proportion. After that, when I pulled myself from the strong hand of the deep pool, I had a newfound sense of pride, that I had just overcome something that had plagued me my whole childhood.

To this day I am still taking swim lessons on how to dive better, do flip turns and swim faster and stronger. But, I have never really wanted to share my story of courage because I didn’t know how people would react, if they would be supportive and champion me or be negative and make me feel that I wished I hadn’t shared my story. But now I feel more liberated than ever.

The Major Fear

Posted on by Standard Respond

Dying will always be a big fear of mine and will stick with me until that day. Dying has always been a question or a thought that goes through the back and front of my mind. I always wanted to know what that day would be like but i know now that i would have to find out.

 

I have always been afraid of dying because everyone in my life or anyone close to me has always died unexpectedly or they were here just too sick to to keep going with their sick life. Dying has a major impact in everyone’s life but it scares me knowing that everyone and even me has to die someday and that we would never know when or how. Most of my family is still with me on earth and most of them has already dies in so many ways and some are worse than the other. I always had a fear that i would die an unhappy life or not living up to my standards and completing all of my goal.I always question to myself and imaged the possibilities of how i would die but with the was i had imagined it was like me being murdered or something tragic.

 

I am afraid of dying because i am afraid of doing everything i wanted and not being the person i wanted or the person everyone would remember me as. When i die i want to die living up to all of my standards and completing all of my goals and becoming the person i want to be. I have feared many times that when i die i wouldn’t be remembered the person i want to be remembered as.

 

Dying is one of my major fears and i know that one day we are all going to to die and that it is only natural and human nature. I have learned to accept that someday, but still it will be one of my major fear and will always cross my mind. Having this fear has made me wonder what my life would be like if i had completely overcome that fear and have the courage to live up to my fate. Dying is one of my biggest fears and hearing how people die and hearing about so many people died made me wonder what will happen to me or when will i die or how would i die.

The Water of Death

Posted on by Standard Respond

“Hey you guys should go down the river.” my uncle said

“Can we?” my dad replied

“I did, you don’t even need a permit.”

“We’re still going to check. Do you want to try it?” my dad said talking to my family

That’s when we decided to go tubing down the Niagara River. So the first thing we did is go to the info station and asked is there a way we can talk to the Niagara water Marshall. My dad and mom went there and came back and said we can without a permit. When  the next day came we go out and buy things we need. We needed a whistle to make sound if we need help, a water gun that will show boats that we were there and tubes. We got everything set and went down to the river we got a little floater for a cooler with snacks and rope to tie each other together.

I was so excited until I saw the water it was dark couldn’t see anything. I started second guessing it. But I couldn’t let my family down so jumped in my tube and I kept my feet and hands out of the water. Once I hit the water all you heard was SPLASH! After 5 minutes or so it was relaxing. Until a boat came by we had to grab our water gun and shoot it up in the air even though it was in the morning.

The shocking part is the water was as cold as ice. But after a little you got use to it. We went down the river we ate some snacks and put the wrappers back in the coolers so we didn’t litter.  But one of the scariest parts was when my dad wanted to lay in his tube so he struggled around then he said he just touched something with his foot. I don’t know if he was lying or not but I still got scared.

Once we came up to our drop off there were parked boats everywhere and since I was the smallest I wasn’t the strongest. I tried and tried to swim to the dock, but I couldn’t I started getting nervous. But then my mom came to my rescue and grabbed a hold of me and helped me to the docks. Once we got up we headed to the car and I thanked my mom for helping me. That’s my courage story of me coming over my fear of the dark water where you can’t see anything.