Tag Archives: courage

Against My Will

Posted on by Standard Respond

Most people don’t think about rape, but some do, most men don’t worry about getting raped, yet there is still that one person that fears it. With women though, there is always that fear there, if they know it or not, because they know that they are most prone to it whether they want to be or not. Rape or sexual assault is by far to me the most uncomfortable thing to be around.To have a person come up to you in their car and start saying the most vile and nasty things is just strait up scary. Most people, when they watch a movie about rape, think that it’s horrible, but they don’t understand the actual horror of it. In real life, it’s much worse. In real life, they don’t get saved usually, and they  don’t miraculously live through rape. All movies try to make rape seem not as bad, but that’s only with some movies. Yet, no matter how hard they try, they could never make rape a happy, friendly, kind, and forgiving thing. It is truly sad that some people think that rape is some sort of joke. Kids these days joke about rape, not understanding what rape actually is, making jokes like when a person touches them, they scream rape. Sooner or later that might actually happen, and no one will come because they will think “oh’ its just some joke, like the boy who cried wolf.”

That’s why to me rape is terrifying , to have a stranger randomly just grab me and have s** with me even though I’m telling that person no.That’s what’s terrifying because they won’t stop till they they think they have had enough, but to me any kind of sexual gesture from a older person I do not know or like in a sexual way is just terrifying, no, horrifying. When you’re being raped sometimes they can be so forceful that you get ruined. A person could lose the ability of having children possibly with too much force. Sadly though to me you can never overcome this fear, but I guess its a good thing I have this fear, because it’s what keeps me safe helps me to have an awareness of my surroundings, to somehow know that I shouldn’t talk to that creepy person that’s staring at me.

There still is a way though to try to avoid getting raped to help you feel more safe in this world. For example, say your on a bus (metro bus) and a man or woman is staring at you in a creepy way, get off at the next stop even if it’s not yours or get off at a crowded stop and act like you know where you are going. If he follows you go to an area where he or she can lose you. what ever you do though don’t go to your actual place, because you don’t want the person to know where you live just to find you once again.

Yes rape and other sexual type of gestures are scary, I agree with you, but you can’t exactly overcome it. Yet it will help you in a way, even if you don’t notice it right now.

The Inescapable Abyss

Posted on by Standard Respond

No matter what someone might say, everyone is afraid of their own mortality, simply because it is inescapable. Impermanence has been a universal concern for as long as humans have existed, and it is the inevitability to rule all others. Perishability is having a single life that can be ended at any point in time for any reason, and once it ends, you get no more chances. Transience looms above the world, observing the widespread and immense fear that it has created with its own mere presence.

Not so long ago, Drake’s song “The Motto” sparked a revolution among people of all ages and walks of life. The phrase mentioned in the song is “YOLO”, meaning You Only Live Once. This also means that there is a certain pressure on younger people to live their lives to the fullest, predicting that the future will be horrifying if not nonexistent, leaving regrets of not having more fun while you could. The general idea of YOLO is lighthearted and fun, encouraging young people to have fun while their youth allows, but when you get to the core of the slogan, it is actually quite morbid, and people quickly realised the morbidity. A few popular pop songs were released soon after the slogan grew, like One Direction’s “Live While We’re Young”, and even Vampire Weekend’s entire album Modern Vampires of the City, touching on how most people associate their adult life with death. One song from Vampire Weekend’s album’s title perfectly describes this concept, titled Diane Young (it’s a pun and a great song ( Check it out )). The pop culture world just brushed these upbeat songs off, neglecting to realise the real meaning of them. The rise of YOLO has only increased the immense fear of mortality, indicating that death is creeping upon us while we enjoy our youth. The simple fear of transience is what drove the YOLO slogan to its international fame.

Another focus is that most people feel that they wasted their youth, resulting in a sad adult life (and sometimes, sadly, suicide). Teenagers and young adults are doing more with their lives than ever before, and while this is a good thing, it also results in them doing reckless activities that they might not have even dreamed of doing before the rise of YOLO and the pressure on youths. The simple truth is that people are stressing themselves out too much trying to do more exhilarating things in their life that the forget to actually live their life how they want, only slightly outside their comfort zone. Ephemerality is having only one life that can be ended any minute by an infinite amount of reasons, but you can’t live every life. Nobody can do everything, but you might as well try. That’s where many philosophers enter the conversation, stating that the sole purpose of human life is to ( at least ) attempt to do everything. Have you ever met, or even heard of, someone that can play the piano,  fluently speak 20 languages, play football and soccer with the pros, and is also a singer? Me neither. People usually try to master things that they are good at, then begin learning other things according to their interests in life. Living the fullest life you have (according to some philosophers) is measured by how many enjoyable things you have done on your own in your life. That’s the root of why people stand by YOLO and are afraid of growing old. They feel that by the time they become an adult, their jobs take over their social and personal life and the rest of their life is a speed train to death, yet again leading  right back to humanity.

Perishability is the basic root of every fear. You are afraid of rollercoasters? Probably because you are afraid of dying on one. You are afraid of planes? Probably because you believe in the very real chance that the plane could crash and you could die. Other fears are more complex, for example, in the Book Thief, a bomb is dropped on Munich, Germany, the setting of the story,  killing everyone Leisel has ever known, leaving her alone. Impermanence is still a root of the fear of being left completely alone, because usually the reason you are alone is because of a death at some point. Leisel is alone because her family and friends were killed, yet she wasn’t. This fear is buried inside Leisel from the very beginning of the book, where she is sent to her foster parents alone because her brother had died along the way. Fears that don’t incorporate impermanence into them are not exactly fears, more like things that you are immensely afraid of.

It is impossible to get over your ineluctable transience. I dare you to sit alone, with no distractions. You will most likely begin to question your own Humanity, the purpose of life, and other philosophical topics. Just thinking about Perishability strikes fear in anybody because no matter how many bullet-proof vests you wear, no matter how many vitamins you take, you will die at some point and there is no way to stop it. It is, however, possible to overcome the impermanence of those around you, but even that results in contemplating your own Humanity. Ephemerality is absolutely inexorable and morbid, only meaning the end of a life. this is where irony takes place, because many people make their living off of human’s simple perishability. Morticians, funeral Directors, and many other vocations exist solely because of ephemerality. These people are taking advantage of the inevitable and making the most of their own lives, turning the tables of the concept of living your life to the fullest before you die.

Every living thing has impermanence. Even though some living things can live for a very long time, nothing is truly immortal. How would we even know if immortal? Mere seconds after you deem something immortal, it could drop dead. Even if you live longer than most things, that does not deem you immortal when all you have accomplished is outliving another creature.The present is happening and the past has happened, so what happens next? “Nobody knows what the future holds, it’s bad enough just getting old.”  ( Diane Young, Vampire Weekend )

The quote mentioned in the above paragraph reflects how youths feel about their older years, stating that “it’s bad enough just getting old.” There really is no way to predict the future, or prevent your aging process. From the YOLO Revolution has risen more marketing strategies for makeups geared towards women, telling them that they can pause their aging process, warding off wrinkles and sagging and creating the illusion of being younger than you actually are. The illusion of appearing young makes people feel as if they are young and have more time to live their life. Of course, appearance to others is also a factor of these products, but that still comes down to the fear of transience and getting old, to impress and/or attract those around you to enhance your living experience before your inevitable death.

Some people are afraid of living their life because of what they might learn. Learning something new is always beneficial, because even if you feel like it is completely useless at the moment, it will probably come in handy at some point, and if it doesn’t, you still learned something new. There is one massive side effect of wisdom, however, and that is sadness. As you acquire more wisdom and learn more things, the springtime feeling that you had before you had learned so much has disappeared, replaced by sadness ( and, of course, knowledge ). Certain knowledge makes you happier as you age, but the knowledge of transience is anything but happy. Philosophical wisdom brings inevitable depression after realising the reality of your humanity.

In conclusion, death is quite obviously inescapable, and it is perfectly natural to fear it. That shouldn’t stop you from living your life to what you believe to be the fullest, not what society defines as the fullest. That also means that just because you have grown old, you still have opportunities to do what you want to do. Although work and other problems will get in the way, you can still pursue your passions. YOLO shouldn’t pressure you to do something, or even live your life fast. Nothing should pressure you into doing everything humanly possible before your humanity takes control, or, even worse, your adulthood takes control. The more you delve into the concept of mortality, the more you will begin to realise how deep your fear actually is.  Although perishability is inevitable, universally feared, and looming, it is ignorable.

 

references: ( In the paragraph about wisdom, I am vaguely referring to a quote from Vampire Weekend about the mention of sadness in their album during an interview with Men In Blazers Podcast/Show )

Diane Young, Vampire Weekend, Modern Vampire of the City, 2013

An Unpredictable Friend

Posted on by Standard Respond

By Christian

 

There once was a bear

Fair and square

Who lived in the woods

without a care

 

Who lived in silence

without worry

No one annoyed him

no need to hurry

 

He lived in peace

until one day

the geese had

flown away

 

there was a disturbance,

an interference,

commotion,

you see

 

The bear was afraid

he did not know

what this thing was,

how it flow’

 

Now the bear was

freaking out

until the thing

revealed itself

 

It was a boy,

young and sweet

who lost his mother

in this heat

 

The Bear felt sad

and helped this boy

until he found his mother

and was glad

 

This event changed the bears life

and had believed it was a lie

but never had had as much fun

as he did with that boy.

Achluophobia

Posted on by Standard 1

sun goes down and darkness fills the room

rushing footsteps behind me

stomach dropping before my feet

heart pounding out of my chest

 

rushing footsteps behind me

seeing everything but nothing

heart pounding out of my chest

fear strung through my body

 

seeing everything but nothing

eyes searching for an exit

fear strung through my body

no ounce of hope in my mind

 

eyes searching for an exit

yet this hallway seems endless

no ounce of hope in my mind

screams bursting through me

 

yet this hallway seems endless

I am running out of breath

screams bursting through me

I cannot take it anymore

The Fear to Fall

Posted on by Standard 2

A thousand miles up, so very high.

If I fall, I’ll probably die.

I look down, the size of it all.

This is the fear. The fear to fall.

 

A giant cliff, and I hung on.

Clutching the rocks, to not be gone.

So very afraid, as I recall.

This is the fear. The fear to fall.

 

Looking out of a window, a sucking drain.

To fall through, would bring much pain.

Below the people, and cars so small.

This is the fear. The fear to fall.

 

To fly a plane, and to look around,

it’s so beautiful, until I look down.

A gulp in my system, like I swallowed a ball.

This is the fear. The fear to fall.

 

Falling through darkness, and infinite space.

I cannot be scared. I have to face.

To not be afraid, a concrete wall,

That separates peace, and the fear to fall.

 

But even though, no one will have cared,

if I overcome this, I won’t be scared.

No matter what happens, I won’t be afraid,

for I have did it, and have gotten paid,

and will be scared none at all,

of the fear to fall.

 

Written by Jonathan

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.

The Lonely Monster

Posted on by Standard 1

Dolan sat with his head in his hands. He knew that this would happen. Why would an Olly like him? He knew that he was ugly, stupid, and annoying. He still asked her anyway. He knew that he shouldn’t have. He just wanted to feel loved by someone. But he knew he was unlovable. Nobody could love him.

He pulled his head out of his hands. He had spent all of Ms.C’s class with his head in his hands. He knew that she would notice that Ms.C would notice something was wrong if he stayed like that. So instead he just…   Stared at the wheel of the computer cart.

He had liked Olly for half a year. He originally thought that maybe she liked him but once she had found out she just avoided him. It wasn’t the first time that year that he had felt rejected. A few weeks prior someone he thought to be his friend (Jen)  threw a huge party. All his friends were going it would be great! Except…   He wasn’t invited. He had only known Jen for a few months but he still thought they were friends. He only wanted people to be his friend. He felt like people didn’t want him. He felt alone.

The loneliness was the hardest part of the rejection. It felt he was floating through space millions of light years away from the nearest other person. He stood alone against the army of empty blackness. He could not win because the blackness was himself. He was lost within his mind. Lost within the thoughts of self hate.

Weeks turned into months and he still sat alone. He knew that other people hated him. It wasn’t their fault he thought. He knew it was him. He looked at himself in the mirror. Instead of a person he saw a monster. An ugly beast. He was no human. He was a monster.

He half a year later on a cold march day he and his class took a trip. He thought he love Olly. Why he did not know. All he knew was he wanted her love and friendship. He tried to stay close to her. But every time she would run far away. He was mocked by others for trying to find love. They found it where ever they wanted it but he could never find it. He was the unlovable monster.

Later that day something happened. Jen was on the other bus. They had be texting each other. On the bus. She had become his closest friend. He didn’t realize that she was his friend. He was still fighting the war against himself. He didn’t realize that he had friends.

The Jen texted him something he would never had thought to have seen. “will you go out with me” she asked. He stopped for a minute maybe someone did love him maybe some did…

Then she texted again. “It was a dare from Olly.”

His heart sank. He thought that Olly was nicer than that. He realized it then and there. If she was mean enough to do that to he could not love her. She would kill him. He did not want to die. But he wanted to love.

It did not take long for him to fall in love again. Jen was so nice. She talked to him. She was always kind. He realized that she was who he really loved now. Olly was not for him anymore. But of course she didn’t love him. He was truly unlovable.

He knew he wanted to live but he didn’t know how anymore. The pain of being unlovable was just too much. He couldn’t go on anymore. What could do he did not know. He could die?

 

NO.

He could and he will live. Because everything has beauty even a monster. This he would be told by many. All his friends who saw him as a beautiful person that did not have the ability to see beauty in himself. They helped him and he would live. Not as a monster but as a beautiful person.

“I Won!”

Posted on by Standard 1

My opponents going

around and around the board,

winning

fear of losing

like they were going round and round

one million times, never stopping

then finally, my turn

should I cheat? Do you want to win?

I want to win, so I cheat

“stop cheating, stop cheating!”

My opponents going

around and around the board,

winning

I glanced at the board to scream “I won”

always wanting to win

but that never happened

When I heard people say “I won”

it felt like a million knives stabbing me

I hated the bitter taste

whenever I lost I felt the wet tears

dripping

down

my

face

My opponents going

around and around the board

winning

still wondering

will I EVER win?

will I EVER win?

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.