Sunday, October 9, 2016

A Little Throwback...

I was going through some old photos today to clear space on my laptop (first world problems) and I came across the first time I met John Green back on November 1, 2011. Dang.



video

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Sigma 2016

This summer is my last year as a camper at Sky Ranch. Not to worry, I will certainly be returning and working there again in future summers, but for now my time of being poured into has come to a close I must now pour into others. Before we get to the details of what actually happened at camp I have to give a disclaimer. This is being written several weeks after I attended camp. For some reason I just could not bring myself to writing about what has happened this summer, beginning with Sky Ranch. As I have mentioned earlier, I have needed to take time to recollect my thoughts and be away from the pressures and problems I faced during the school year, which includes stepping away from sharing myself to others and having more intentional internal dialogue. My main medium has been through Bible devotionals; I have been participating in She Reads Truth Bible study plans all summer, which have taken away my desire to share things online because I write everything down in a physical journal now. The medium of a blog is necessary for me too, though, because sharing things with the "world" (even though nobody reads this) allows me to feel more confident that I'm not hiding from myself or others. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but in short I have needed to take time to determine what words I can use confidently to describe how my thoughts and mindset have changed over the summer. So let's begin with camp.

After a restorative two weeks on vacation in Europe, in typical Emma fashion I hopped on a plane the day after returning to the states to get to Texas in time for camp. I made it just in time (they were waiting on me to get there, but I got there five minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, PTL!), and we were off on our twenty hour bus ride up to Powderhorn, Colorado. This year we had a much small group of campers. They have decided to separate Sigma into two groups: Sigma and Sigma Senior. The groups are pretty self explanatory, but Sigma Senior is for rising seniors while Sigma is for rising juniors. Additionally, Sigmas go to a different place in Colorado than the Sigma Seniors (they go to a new camp in Colorado Springs), but I was at the same camp where I went to last year. There were 37 campers as opposed to somewhere around 80 last year. This allowed us collectively to become much closer and truly know everyone else by the end of our two weeks together. This in itself made the experience much more transformative as I was able to hear and know more people well versus struggling to remember everyone's names.

As for the standard camp part of the trip, I have little to say because it was very similar to last year activity wise. So if you want to know what we did (kayaking, zip lining, climbing a mountain) you can scroll back a year to my post from last summer. The most significant part of being at the Ute Trail camp was getting to know the counselors. Because of the reduced camper size there were also fewer counselors which allowed me to get to know all of them individually. It is so amazing to see women and men of the Lord responding to his call, giving up their summer to serve him. I'm not saying this just because I'm a girl, but it is extremely impactful to be around men of the Lord who are so far from the stereotype of men and who are seeking the Lord more than anything else in their lives. Likewise it is amazing see women also more focused on the Lord, but I am around women more than I am men, so it is impactful to see that it is possible for young men to have a solid foundation in the Lord. So in summation, the first week was very emotionally challenging. As we shared our testimonials I was able to reflect more on the year....

The first three paragraphs of this post were written several months before actually being posted. I did not know how to or really want to articulate why I decided to leave Phillips Exeter Academy, but in order to get through this time and move on with my blog I need to just get it out there. So here is an essay I wrote with an explanation. Now I can stop running in circles and write about my life back in Westerville, Ohio.

My year at Exeter gave me an experience I would not trade for anything. Although the difficulties of school can feel overwhelming, I understand its purpose as necessary to prepare students for the challenges they will face in college and the professional world. Spending ten hours every Wednesday in The Exonian office editing the newspaper, finding solace in the top floor of the science building with a view over the academic quad, and the deeply intellectual debates around the Harkness table will remain foundational to my educational experience. I did not leave Phillips Exeter because I did not love it, I left because it was not who I am.
I am an athlete. For all eighteen games I started and played on the Exeter squad, an upgrade in playing time compared to school in Ohio. But our team did not connect nor were there any other girls seriously interested in continuing soccer after high school. When winter and spring rolled around I played club soccer in the area. The team was phenomenal and we participated in top-level tournaments across the country, but Exeter’s rules state that boarding students cannot have vehicles or be driven by people under the age of 25 (everyone on my team), therefore I had to take taxis to practice and games. This quickly became time consuming, expensive, and impractical considering the academic workload of the Academy.
I am a musician. The music programs at Exeter are phenomenal—if you are in orchestra. Unfortunately I have the unique privilege of specializing in classical saxophone, the only wind instrument not included in orchestra but rather in symphonic bands. Concert band at Exeter lacked dedicated musicians. We met twice a week to play remedial middle school music and performed a concert with a total of one to two pieces. Luckily my private instructor was the best classical saxophonist I have ever had the privilege to work with, but playing for oneself versus in an ensemble are completely different environments. In Columbus I am able to play with the best musicians from across the state in symphonic bands.
I am a Christian. When stress levels are high and there is little time to spend away from schoolwork, religion is often the first aspect of an adolescent’s life to deteriorate. Christian Fellowship at Exeter included a meager five consistent members. Church in the area was difficult to find but I settled into the largest church in Exeter with a congregation of forty, only two were high school students. Due to lack of a vehicle I could not search outside of Exeter to seek a youth group or larger congregation. Every day I began to feel farther away from God, and guilt for ignoring Him. Eventually guilt became an excuse to not communicate with Him and I told myself I was not worthy of Him because of how poor a Christian I am. This thinking is flawed, but I kept finding myself in deeper anguish without community.

I am an academic. Phillips Exeter provided me with the greatest academic environment of my life. It seemed as if I could snap my fingers and class would be over due to how engaged everyone remained during our discussions. It will be challenging to return to the traditional classroom but being at home allows me to focus more on my passions. Church, soccer, saxophone, and filmmaking— I value education more than anything else but education is not limited to the classroom. I return home with sadness for the world I have left behind, but the happiness I find in places unavailable at Exeter is more important to my being than a diploma.



Thursday, June 9, 2016

España

My last post was written over a few days, but it was finished while I was/am in Spain. This vacation has let my mind go crazy. I have had more ideas and inspirations over the past week than I have had all year. It's amazing what stress and lack thereof does. Anyway, I'm in Spain until Sunday and then I'm in Amersterdam next week, and then I'm going to Sky Ranch back to Sigma for two weeks. So I really won't be home until July and I will only have internet access while I'm on vacation, not at camp. The point of me noting this is because I have some projects that I am going to start working on once I get home, but I'm not getting home for a while. I know this is selfish because basically nobody reads this blog but one of my projects I have to keep a bit secret because I don't know if it is going to work out and it requires an immense amount of work and collaboration, so I don't even know if it is feasible. It might be one of those things that sounds amazing but just really doesn't materialize, so I don't want to share it and then nothing happen. My other project is working on my YouTube channel again. YAYAYAY! I want to start sharing my standup that I have written. These videos are going to be super lame because I won't have an audience, but don't worry I have some creative ideas for making and "audience." Anyway, the bits will be pretty short, probably only 3:00 min each of material I think. But hopefully I'll be able to write and produce a few by the end of the summer.

I'm sick of having dreams of becoming a comedy writer but not having any material. Everyone says the only way to get out there is to write and create, so here I am, I'm going to write and create. Until it's out of my head, it's nothing more than a dream. Be on the watch for that coming out sometime in early to mid July.

My summer is crazy busy, but I'm excited. I am trying to do everything I can to be able to play collegiate soccer and because I am not officially committed anywhere yet, it is vital for me to stay in shape and be playing soccer as much as possible. Every day when I get back from camp I will be training. I'll either be with my old high school team, at Superkick, or at a college ID camp. I love the game so much, so this is not torture by any means. Working out alone gets old after a while. Motivating myself to get up early before my family while on vacation has been a struggle, but I'm determined to continue through the month of June staying in shape, gaining and not loosing.

There is so much to say, but if I'm going to get up tomorrow to workout as I mentioned, I need to go to sleep now. (It's 9:00 p.m.) Here are some picture from my trip so far. It has really been nice and restorative. I'm glad that I have been given so much free time to think, relax, and plan. I watched probably ten TED talks this morning. No regrets, it was amazing. ¡Hasta luego!







The End of Junior Year

I’ve come to one of those reflective moments in life where the world is screaming at you to listen and for some reason you decide to listen. There are a lot of things discombobulated in my mind, bare with me as I try to sort them out.
            I just finished my junior year of high school. It feels very strange to say this. I never really felt like a junior this year because of the whole changing school thing. I remember sitting in Mr. Park’s class as a sophomore surrounded by juniors and feeling this infinite gap between me and my classmates that was really only 365 days of life. By going to Exeter I reset the clock and felt like a freshman; the whole idea that I could possibly be a junior baffles me, the fact that I just finished junior year sends my head spinning. There is so much to say about this past year. I finally found a place in this world where I am truly challenged on a daily basis. I realized how hurtful the stress was to my mind but also how necessary it is for me to be able to find a purpose in my life. Even coming home for a day and witnessing the amount of television that my family consumes in a day, what I used to do, all that time that is gone and wasted, deeply disturbs me. I want to go into the television industry so, I guess it is a good thing they enjoy it so much but I’m more in the business of creating versus consuming. Exeter has taught me to appreciate any and all time I am given to create and to consume only the meaningful.
            As I have written about previously, I have faced battles with my mental health that I have not experienced prior to this year. My difficulty adjusting to Exeter was not simply being homesick but rather adjusting to the demands of school while also establishing meaningful relationships. Whenever alumni come and speak to us or even my peers speak in regards to their experience at Exeter it is always the friendships that they cite as being the most meaningful gift they have been given by the Academy. Unfortunately I have not been able to attest to this, but then again it has only been one year and I came in as a new student after most of my peers have been together for three years now. It doesn’t help that my personality is a little off kilter in the first place and that my interests are an odd combination. But it is so difficult because I feel an immense guilt for not being good enough or trying hard enough to make meaningful friendships. Instead I kept my head down trying, agonizingly hard, to keep my grades together. When I faced failure in both making meaningful relationships and getting good grades things started to get bad. Wow, I used two dead words in one sentence, I’m a great writer. What this means is that basically I would self-destruct any time I received another C- on an assignment. Which was quite often. I kept burying my head deeper and deeper, working harder and harder. Soccer and fitness were my only breaks. I pushed myself harder and farther during my workouts in an attempt to say that I’m doing something right. If I can’t be a division one student, at least I can be a division three athlete. 
            This cycle of destruction and working harder persisted predominately for the last six weeks of the term (mainly because my midterm grades which I received after five weeks into the term were such utter shit that I didn’t know what to do with myself). In the end my results for this work ethic ended with mixed results. Academically, I believe it paid off. I have not received my official grades yet, but the end of the term was a very, very strong finish. On the side of my social life… things got messy. My roommate and I stopped meshing as well as before. Another girl in my dorm, who at the beginning of the year I believed would be one of my best friends, became best friends with my roommate and quickly revealed her values—particularly an obsession over drama— which did not fit with my personality by any means. I’d rather get a good amount of sleep than stay up late finishing homework because I’m doing it in the presence of friends, which inherently makes finishing homework take longer. So that’s what I did. I slept, never missed class, went to sports, worked on the newspaper, and hoped for the best.
            On my college recommendation forms that I had to turn into my teachers they asked me to describe myself in three words. I chose determined, focused, and pragmatic. I like to think that only truly pragmatic people would choose to describe themselves as pragmatic. The last six weeks of school truly showed how accurate these words are when describing Emma Dyer. It isn’t like I have no friends at school, but then again I didn’t take any time to say goodbye to anyone before leaving. I’ll see everyone in three months, for now I need some time to myself.
            That word time is the very reason I felt inclined to get my thoughts back on paper, or whatever medium this is considered now days since this is a screen. Two days before the last day of school I was working on a Spanish project and wanted to listen to something other than my usual playlists. Earlier that day during lunch I read an article in The New York Times about a dad who’s early-teenage daughter was obsessed with Hamilton the Broadway musical and I was intrigued by this idea of obsession over a time piece musical. I knew the premise of the show—the life of Alexander Hamilton depicted by people of color through rap—and had seen the opening number via the Grammys, but I hadn’t given it a solid listen. I started from the beginning and listened as I edited my Spanish project. Wow, it is good. At that moment I didn’t have time to listen to the whole forty-seven track album but thankfully I had a twelve hour drive home where I listened to the whole thing twice through. I understand the obsession. I cannot even begin to tell you what I would do to get tickets, but they are so expensive. It isn’t even the fact that they are sold out per say, it’s that all the tickets have been bought by third party sellers who jack up the prices making the cheapest ticket somewhere around $650. I’m working on it. Maybe I’ll get lucky or I can scrap up some money… but that is so much money for a three hour show.
            Okay, cool, Emma you listened to the Hamilton soundtrack, what is so cool about that? Nothing, for you, really. But for me, I was struck by the concept of time. Hamilton never stopped writing and one of the repeating refrains of the musical is “why do you write like you’re running out of time.” Another refrain is in the idea of never being satisfied. He could not rest because he was never satisfied and took advantage of every moment because he could not bear having the ability to do something and not doing everything in his power to make it happen. The amazing part about this is that Hamilton did not know that he was going to die young, but he worked so hard and diligently as if with the mindset that tomorrow really could be his last day.
In isolation, this idea bears nothing revelatory; I’ve been taught this in my own life through my religion—every day is a gift and we are not guaranteed a certain amount of days on this earth. But then a day later when I hopped on a plane to go to Spain I started reading a book I picked up a while ago called When Breath Becomes Air. A very quick read, I started and finished before we even landed in Madrid, this book was also completely centered around time. The author, Paul Kalanithi a brilliant neurosurgeon, was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer at the age of 36. Kalanithi was a man with a long term plan considering that he was not scheduled to finish his residency until age 37. He started his collegiate education with an English degree from Stanford trying to grapple with the concept of human thought by studying our most abundant source of human thought: literature. This wasn’t enough though, because to understand mortality he needed to get closer, so he decided to begin medical school. The tragic irony of Kalanithi’s story is that he experienced mortality in a way most people do not, and he passed away two years after his diagnoses. He always wanted to write a book but it was something to do after med school, after he established himself as a neuroscientist, after raising his children. When an expiration date was set on his life, this book was his product, his words of the moment and best advice that he could impart to the world through his discoveries about life.
Time. Kalanithi was told he was going to die soon, and only then did he go back to where he started—being a writer, imparting the world with a piece of ourselves. Hamilton was made fun of for acting as if he was going to die and he wrote constantly. Time. Right now I have as much of a lifespan as Hamilton, but tomorrow maybe I’ll be gone or told I don’t have long like Kalanithi. Coming out of a year of creative famine on my part because of the weight of school, this feels like a blatant encouragement and reminder to find the Emma that is always thinking of something new and different. To always create and write and learn.

God is still looking out for me. This school year tore me away from my daily quiet time. It is my fault and the guilt I have for not being willing to set aside part of my day to be in Scripture tears me up. But it feels like even when I’m not in Scripture, God is leading me towards human works that are leading me back to Him. The idea of time is limited only to earth, because in heaven I will be with God for eternity. But my time on earth to impart the knowledge of Him to others is very limited and if He is trying to get me to realize anything I think that is it. That for my own happiness I need to be me and that my time to be me and share what brings me joy is limited.

Monday, May 9, 2016

I Don't Know What I'm Doing

I'm still at school. So there isn't really anything to say. That's so sad isn't it? That nothing interesting has happened because legitimately all I do is school. I watched the second half of the Cavs game yesterday, that was exciting. I finished that 20 page research paper that I referenced in my last post. It was just as scary and terrifying as I thought it would be but now I can barely remember it because my brain is on to the next assignment.
The worst part about going to a genius school is waking up to realize how hard you can try and how little can come from it. Like the fact I spent practically my entire weekend studying for this chemistry test and I still bombed it. I don't even understand how it's possible because I thought I studied every nook and cranny but then he pulls out some random question and I'm stuck. C-. Done. Yep. That's about how my day went. Then right after that chemistry test I had to take a Spanish quiz and my brain was just like, "yeah, no, I was just traumatized by that chemistry test. no hablo español." So that sucked. And then I went to talk to a faculty member to talk about life and it just made me realize how I legitimately have no friends because I'm always studying and keeping my head down to try and pull up my GPA while also realizing how shitty my GPA is, therefore everything is for nothing.

It's a deep spiral that ends only in a dark place.

I've been in that dark place all year and everyone tells me I should just go home. The truth is I want to, but I can't allow myself to give up such an amazing opportunity as being at Exeter. I also really love class. It's really amazing being in the classroom, but outside the classroom and the workload really gets to you. My ideal school would be Exeter with a public school workload, then I could actually enjoy my extracurriculars instead of them being another burden I have to manage. It doesn't do any good to complain. I'm just being a child. I know. But hopefully I'm not wasting my time. If that turns out to be the case, come save me the day I find out.

Friday, April 1, 2016

Perfection's Insecurities

Time goes by so quickly while I'm at school. I'm not complaining, it's really nice and refreshing. I mean there are some days where I think I'm going to die because of how much work I have to do, but I've always been able to get it done no matter how crazy the circumstances. Like yesterday I had class until 5:00, soccer practice at 5:30-7:00, and music lessons from 8:00-9:15. Then I have to eat dinner and start five classes worth of homework. But guess what, I finished it all! Some how I finished my English homework literally a minute before class started. All it takes is determination I guess. And waking up at 5:00 a.m. to work. My least favorite thing about school is the lack of time I have to create. I want to write but because I'm always working, when I'm not working writing is not always my first thing to go to. That brings me to what I wanted to talk about; in truth it isn't just the time that holds me back, I'm always so afraid to start writing something because I think I won't have time to get it the way I want it, then it will be lost and a waste of time. I set to high standards I'm starting to realize. Like today for instance, I promised to do a poetry reading but I wanted to write something new. I didn't have time to write it all week-- I swear I'm not irresponsible, I legitimately did NOT have ANY time to do ANYTHING except school, I swear-- so I wrote it in twenty minutes before I had to perform it. At first I was disgusted at how much I hated my product because of how little time I spent on it, but I got up there and performed it anyway. For some reason they thought it was good, and looking back over it, tweaking it a little bit, it isn't as bad as I thought. So that is what I need to get over: perfectionism. Because writing something is better than nothing. I need experience, I need words, and although my English teachers are going to beat me to death (especially next year when I take a bajillion English classes) with the expectation of perfection I still need to try and find comfort in the way I write naturally. It will change with their guidance but that happens subconsciously, so write. That was a note to myself. Also study for the ACT. But write, because that is more important. Oh, wait, also practice soccer. And saxophone, geez sports will get you no where. STOPPPPP. This is exactly the type of dialogue that goes around in my head to hinder my writing! Those thoughts are not allowed here.

Nothing particularly interesting has occurred recently. School is fun. Eight more weeks! That is actually so little time. Two weeks have flown by like two days. I'm still somewhat terrified about my 20 page history paper I have to write this term, but it is going to come and go soon enough. I'm stuck in my Exeter rut so I'm going to watch a movie and try to get my mind outside of this place for a little bit. Also, any suggestions for what I should write my Common App essay about? Let me know. I have no clue.

Monday, March 7, 2016

Catching Up Pt. 1

School is kind of busy. Okay, really busy and I apologize for not taking the time to keep up on this whole blog thing. It probably would benefit me anyway if I did because putting things on the page or screen or whatever this is brings me a peace that I'm not all bottled up. At least there is some place that, even if nobody is reading this, I have openly disclosed my life. So let's get started

I lie. A lot. It used to be one of the things I struggled with the most growing up and in elementary school and all. When somebody asked me if I watched the Cowboys game on Monday morning, of course I had. Do you know how to play Pokemon? Duhhh. You've been to Australia? Yeah, last year. I just did it without thinking, I wasn't being malicious but there was and is a part of me that just feels the need to know and have done everything. To be clear, I was 7 when this kind of lying occurred but it still comes and goes. Particularly when I'm put somewhere new aka when I moved to Ohio aka starting school at Phillips Exeter. So I haven't really opened up to people at my new school and I definitely have embellished stories or facets of my life. I hate it. I hate it so much and I don't even understand why I do it. I try so hard but in the moment of a conversation when someone asks have you ever smoked weed, sure yeah I have. OF COURSE I HAVENT SMOKED WEED I HAVE A BLOG AND I PLAY SAXOPHONE FOR FUN. But in the moment, my brain makes the compulsive decision to say yes. Now that I think about it, maybe this isn't a lying problem more so a "yes" problem. Nope, it's a lying problem. When I was in ninth grade my swim coaches and I were talking about school and I told them that I was taking courses from Northwestern. That part was true, I took three online courses from Northwestern. But I also told them that sometimes I go up to Northwestern on the weekends to do labs for my biology class. Totally made up. I want to punch myself for writing this but it's all true, so here you go. 

I've been pretty good about it at Exeter, I really don't go ham on the whole lying thing, but sometimes rediculous things come out of my mouth and I need Adam Sandler, bless his soul, to come and use his remote to click me back 20 seconds. So what else have I embellished at Exeter? You are going to think I'm a horrible person for this one. Please kill me in my sleep, I deserve it. Okay, so mirrors distract me. My roommate hung a normal wall mirror in our room right to the left of my desk. It distracted me so much, I second guessed everything I wore before going out the door. It made me feel inadequate and that I needed to be working out more because I was getting fat. It was just really bad. So when I came back from thanksgiving break I punched the mirror. It didn't shatter thankfully. And I woke up and realized how stupid I was being and instead undid the wall Velcro and took it off the wall. Here's the bad part. When my roommate asked me why I took it down, I told her that it was because I'd previously had an eating disorder. Yes, the mirror was causing body image issues undeniably but I've never had an eating disorder, which is a really serious thing to tell someone. I'm an idiot, wow, it is really hard to share this. 

This past week I had a meltdown. Like full on blew my brains out meltdown. Finals week at Phillips Exeter means that schedules are kind of jacked up and so on Wednesday I didn't have any finals to take- all I had to do was study. So naturally, I decided to take Adderall that I'd been given. I've never used it before, ever, and I do not have ADD so I was preparing myself for a day of weird shit. Well I got more than I could handle. All of a sudden time moved unbearably slow. I sat down to work and get so much done in so little time that it felt like the day would never end. I wasn't hungry, side effect. My body was shaking, side effect. In general it felt weird, side effect. I went through the whole day pretty normally especially since I didn't have classes. I started feeling normal again in the evening, the drug is only supposed to last about 12 hours so by 11:00 I thought it was out of my system. Wrong. So so so painfully wrong. To put into context the following events I must give a little more context. This year I applied to study abroad in Ecuador next winter, it was and is something I really wanted to do. I'm tired of explaining to people how badly I wanted to go so I'm just not. Realize, though, that I would have done anything to get into this program. As you can probably guess, I was not accepted to the program. Rough blow to a kid already struggling to fit in at Exeter. My esteem dropped about 10 points. Okay, that's the first thing still fresh in my mind during this night, here's the second. So, Exeter has an award that they give out every year, I think it's called Honoring Early Educators Award, where Exonians can nominate a teacher they've had in the past whom they believe has done an outstanding job and deserves to be recognized. Obviously I nominated my previous English teacher because I find him to be the greatest teacher I've ever had. Yes, he teacher English, the touchy feely subject of school, but I'm a writer so it was just natural that we got along, it has nothing to do with the content of the class. I wanted to recognize him because of all that he has done for all of his students. On the list of people he has influenced I'm definitely not at the top or even close because he genuinely cares about all of his students including the ones that need a lot more attention and motivation than me. I've done all I can do to tell him how much he means to me and I was hoping this award, this stupid award, would just be something that I could share with him; brighten someone's day you know, because he deserves it. I submitted my nomination (I spent a ridiculous amount of time working on it, this was a freaking masterpiece all eloquent and shit). A couple days later, after the nominations were due, it came up in conversation with one of my housemates. She hadn't realized that this was a thing (despite an email about it being sent to the entire school) so she emailed the principal asking for an extension and to submit a nomination. I didn't know she did this, she didn't tell me, why would she? Anyway she whipped up something and submitted it. You're following me right? So her teacher got selected and mine didn't. Her teacher gets to come to Exeter, receive the award and a stipend for his classroom. Her teacher was also an English teacher. She let me read what she submitted about her teacher. I do not care how petty it is of me to say this (you will see, this event catalyzed my meltdown), he should not have won. There is just no freaking way. In her description of him she said "He's just really awesome." I spent so much time writing my nomination, and I was and am crushed to say the least. I know it's so petty of me, so so petty, but I just cared way too much. I wanted a win, after Ecuador and all. After having the worst year of school ever. I needed a win.

So back to that day when I took the Adderall, it was 11:45ish and my housemate was in our room working, we were actually having a great conversation and fun for the first time in weeks. The nomination just happened to come up and she told me her teacher had been selected. She told me she had assumed mine had too, which is why she didn't tell me. I'm just going to say it right now, that was bullshit and a lie, she knew I would have told her- my teacher means the world to me, she also knows that. I tried to contain it. I did contain it, for a while. Soon she and my roommate went to bed but I couldn't sleep. I called my mom, 1:30 in the morning, hyperventilating, sobbing. I was crushed, emaciated, obliterated. Why this way? Why now, when I have two more finals and it's late at night and I told her about the whole thing. If I hadn't told her, my teacher would have won, I know it, I'm positive, there is no other way. This is the spiral my mind descended into. I lost my brains. I talked on the phone for a while and tried to sleep. By 3:00 am I couldn't take it any more. My head hurt so bad I couldn't sleep, I kept whispering to myself "okay, okay, okay, it's okay, okay, okay." I cracked. I called campus safety and started one of the lowest 24 hours of my life. I went to the health center and told them I had a wicked headache and was having suicidal thoughts. I had to talk to a nurse, then a shrink. I slept for three hours and then had to talk to the shrink in person. He called my parents. And so did the Dean of Health and Wellness. And now I'm officially being watched and will start a "long term wellness plan." That Adderall fucked with my brain. I just lost it. Normally I wouldn't loose it, but at that day under those circumstances my whole life just crushed me.

I'm hesitant to publish this because whenever I tell the truth, something like this, people think they can fix it or that I'm just forgetting something. Am I forgetting about God and His plan? No, I was praying to Him the entire time during my meltdown and He was by my side the whole time. I was not and have not been mad at Him, none of this is His fault, if anything He was carrying me through it all when I could no longer walk. Am I forgetting how fortunate I am? Please stop there, do not make me go on about how fortunate I am. I know, I really do. I really really do. I'm spoiled. I've been given everything. I know, just stop judging me for it because it's not like I'm in control of my families socioeconomic standing. I don't know, I just feel like I can't tell this to anyone in person but I want it to be available for everyone to know. It doesn't make sense but I just don't want to hide, so here.

My head hurts from thinking about how much my head hurt. Let's catch up some more later.