Month: November 2016

I Told a Story.

I got a standing ovation this week. But it wasn’t for the grade I got on my math test or the paper I wrote for english. I got a standing ovation this week and it was for telling a story.

I stood in front of a group of 50 people and words came out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure how, because I always write a script before I give a speech. But I wore tall shoes, and I dressed really fancy, and I stood at a podium and I spoke. And somehow by the time all of the words had left my mouth I found the room on their feet applauding me.

I told a story of a normal girl who was oblivious to the world, an innocent girl that believed she had it all, and not a single thing could change that for her. I told a story of a girl whose life came crashing down quite literally and figuratively. I told a story of a girl who worked piece by piece to put the puzzle back together, only to realize her puzzle pieces had been cut in half and thrown all over the place. I told the story of a girl that searched to rebuild the perfect puzzle only to realize that would never happen, and instead she would have to gather the broken pieces she could find and build new ones along the way, not to match the old puzzle but to build a new one.  I told a story of a girl who was just living life, and still is to the best she knows.

I didn’t get a standing ovation for my math grade because the only time I have ever been good at math was in Mrs. Hepp’s 6th grade math class, and that was years ago. I told a story.

I taught a group of 50 people this week about something I decided would become a thing: The Ripple Effect: The idea that you have the potential today to impact the rest of someones tomorrows.

I believe whole heartedly that the way we as humans act and view the world is entirely impacted and influenced by those around us. Those meaning the people we associate with but also those we don’t even take time to notice. The human presence has the possibility to impact in so many different ways, both negatively and positively. I believe you are impacting handfuls of stories everyday, and most of the time you do not even realize.

I have always been one that has been up for listening to a good story, I love reading memoirs, and find documentaries on human lives to be some of the most interesting films. But, what I didn’t realize was that this entire time I have been so busy indulging myself in others stories I was building and creating a story of my own. I didn’t realize that while others stories are important and necessary for us to surround ourselves with it is equally necessary for us to realize that our own story is of just as much importance.

I told a story this week and the audience didn’t care that I didn’t ace my math test or my english paper. I told a story and they were proud and pleased with the fact that in the midst of a tragedy I somehow found a few puzzle pieces along the way and put them back together and began to build something new.

The worst story I ever heard I watched unfold first hand, when someone believed their story wasn’t enough, and that nobody would listen, and so they cut it short. They ended it without realizing that it had only just begun.

Your story is all you have, and it is all yours, and you decide how it writes itself.

I told a story this week, and I will continue to write my story tomorrow, and the day after, and then I’ll probably tell a story again. Stories aren’t left to keep on shelves, they are meant to be shared so that we can learn, and grow, and find comfort, and reassurance in the fact that as lonely as our stories may feel sometimes they are not, they are just hidden.

A story can’t be heard unless it is shared.

So speak up, write your story, make it a good one, and when you find comfort in it, and when you feel lost in it, share it out loud for all to hear.


A Whole Lot of Everything.

It’s been a while. I’ve tried typing this before, but somewhere along the line I trashed it and decided it wasn’t the right time. I thinks now I’m ready though.

Four months ago I packed up my bags and moved from suburbiaville to the city. I live in a little apartment in the coziest nook. I fall asleep each night with a view out my window of the city as the moon looks over it, and I wake up each morning to the sunrise as it wakes the city. My days are hustle and bustle through a campus full of everyone and anyone. I’m living the dream.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into four months ago when I packed up my bags, to be honest my only concern was missing my mom. I had no worries about school or how I would make it, I was just worried about what it would be like without coming home to my mom every night. A lot has changed in the last four months, I think it’s fair to say that I have grown a tremendous amount. Not in height, because well homegirl is always gonna be short. I’ve grown in the kind of way that makes you realize that you are capable of making it in the world on your own, maybe not exactly right now, but someday. I can say though that I do still miss my momma a lot, but thankfully she’s missed me too and visits often.

I didn’t really think a whole lot about how I was going to survive here. I mean the last year has been really good, like really good. I graduated from high school, I got EMT certified, like your homegirl has been living the dream. I didn’t give two thoughts about the possibility of finding myself in old habits. I kind of assumed that here things could only get better, and that’s not to say that they haven’t but they sure have been different.

When I first said goodbye to suburbia and took up camp in my cozy nook, well lets be honest- shit hit the fan. Reality set in and I was made aware of the looming fear I’ve had for awhile, my POTS flared. I’ve been really lucky and for the past year or so after finding the right medication combination haven’t really had to worry about anything other than the rare bad day. But moving to college, being surrounded by college kid germs, well to put it simply, I’ve had a sinus infection since I got here in August, it’s November now.

I’ve missed more classes just this semester than I did all of my senior year of high school, my grades aren’t pretty, and my mind is a bit of a mess. But, I’m here, and I’ve learned a lot. This was a lot of talking leading up to the point that I’m about to get to but here it goes:

Things don’t go as you plan, and no matter how much you plan, or prepare they still sometimes, almost always don’t go perfectly. That’s the thing with life: it’s messy and confusing, and hard, and frustrating. In my four months of college I’ve seen more confused and frustrated people than I ever have in my entire life. College is hard. Figuring out what you want to do with the rest of your life, and preparing for it is hard. Being sick is hard, and being a full time student while being sick is even harder.

I heard this quote somewhere though, or maybe I even made it up in my head to be honest I’m not totally sure but it’s something I’ve lived by for a few years now and it’s this: in order to find the good, the worth living, you have to make it through the dark, and the difficult. I’m holding on to the hope that this is true because your homegirl is WORN OUT!

In twelve days I am going under the knife for a septoplasty and adenoidectomy, with the hope of relieving my chronic sinusitis which will then in turn alleviate my flared POTS symptoms. I’m not much of a girl to reach out and ask for help but I’ve also never had anyone stick sharp objects up my nose either. So maybe some good luck thoughts would be helpful.

This was a bit of a word vomit but I’ve missed having a place to throw all my thoughts onto and well, a lot has changed and maybe it’s time to bring this comfort zone of mine back. Who knows where this will go, but in the meantime I’m just going to keep trucking on, because I am certain that “make you smile so hard your cheeks hurt” moment is coming back soon and I can’t wait.