Advice From My Mother and Some Crazy Metaphors

Whether she knows it or not (probably not), I have been writing about my mother for a long time. She is like a sequoia tree; not just another organism, but a constant force of nature and firmly planted to the ground. She has strong, proud roots and she uses them to hold everything around her together. She is full of warmth and wisdom. During stormy weather she maintains her ground and stands taller than before. Her arms stretch out far and wide to protect the ones she loves or to reach out to the ones who need someone to listen; her love has no bounds. My mother is like a sequoia; she is not easy to forget.

It would surely be impossible to transcribe all of the things my mother has taught me, however, I feel the need to write down a key few that have helped me in my young adult life compared to, let's say, "Chanel, push your drink back from the table or you will spill it." (Funny enough, I still find myself doing this for other people without thinking of how odd it might be for them.)

One

When I was so anxious that I could not physically force myself out of the car and in to the school bus that would take me to the Academic Decathlon competition, you grasped my hand firmly with yours and said, "Take a deep breath. Every time you feel like crying, laugh."

Two

We were sharing a bed at my grandparents' house. We had not slept next to each other in years and I was visiting for spring break. It was like a novel in a way, laying next to my mother and at the the foot of the bed were gauze-like curtains that made a thunderstorm seem theatrical. The lightening softly illuminated the small guest bedroom and I could not help but recall the time she had taught my brother and I how to waltz in a summer thunderstorm when we were younger.

She pulled me close to face her and asked, "Chanel, when will you start taking chances?" In order to love and trust someone to begin with, she said, you must learn to let go. Learn to live a little. That was a few days after Bryce had told me he liked me and a month later we started dating. I'm extremely grateful I took that chance.

Three

"What do you have to lose?"

I had called my mother crying. Crying because I felt lost, confused, and at the moment quite angry. Things were finally looking up. I had a good job, I had moved out and I was living with Bryce. I had not expected to start thinking that he thought the Airforce might be a good option for him. It was ultimately my choice but how could I begin to make that choice? I had no future plans and yet I had no idea what that would mean for us. She spoke calmly into the phone.

"What do you have to lose? I don't mean that in a negative way but you are a time in your life when you can still take risks and if things don't work out, you pick up the pieces and move on. Who knows? This might be a positive thing. You have to make the choice for yourself, no one else. You are stronger than you know."

___________________________

I have seen her during extremely low points and during wonderfully high points. She can tell when I need to talk to her even if I put on a cheery voice. She taught me to respect my elders, how to always listen, to help anyone who needs it but to realize that they won't change if they don't also try to help themselves. She teaches me to be strong when I sometimes cannot find the strength to get out of bed. She teaches me to constantly learn from people and educate myself. She teaches me that making other people happy before me is no way to truly be happy in life. My mother teaches me that life is hard and it is whatever you make of it. 

She is the strongest person I have ever known. No matter their age, or if they may disagree with her; people still show her a deep respect simply because she is firm (or perhaps this strength is just genetic stubbornness?). No definitely firm and strong...like a sequoia tree even ;] (this is where you laugh at my use of metaphors, momma.)

I love you. If I could, I would draw you a picture to go here but, alas, I lost my box of crayons while traveling. (For you readers, this is not a joke. I seriously lost my box of crayons and it was cool because it had one of those fancy crayon sharpeners on the back of the box. Damn you Crayola!)

A Long Journey Ahead

My old journals surround me and, as I turn their pages, I feel like I am having conversations with my younger selves. They tell me of their worries, dreams, and fears. Reading them makes me wish I could hold my own hands and tell that far away girl that things get better in the end.

I'm writing a book. Quite plainly, it is simultaneously exhausting and wonderful. Looking back on past events and then writing about them is comparable to seeing a therapist for an hour or more everyday. The difference is that you are talking to yourself but there is no one there to listen, which is just as crazy as it sounds.

I can't believe how motivated I am. I don't feel conceited in the slightest by wanting to write about my own experiences, rather I hope that my story will help someone else. I hope that when this is all said and done there will be a stranger who reads my words and finds courage to talk about things. Our society lacks true honesty. It's ironic that we demand honesty from everyone around us, yet we refuse to be honest with ourselves. The only reason I have gotten so far in the past year is because I've made a extremely difficult choice--to be honest with myself and everyone else. It's freeing.

Despite how exciting this is and all of my motivation, I can't help pondering what people might think of me. What happens when my words--all of those things I've kept hidden in the bindings of journals or buried deep inside of me--are printed across a page? What happens when people don't like my honesty because the reality of things is too difficult to hear?

Christ and Caffeine

Sunday

At least I think it is Sunday. I've been awake since 8 a.m. yesterday and I barely slept on the flight to Katy, Texas. We went over to the Pulley house around 7 p.m. and had a bonfire until 3 a.m. Bryce stayed with us until we left for the airport and I suddenly felt clingy and sad. It's going to be a long week.

In the past twenty-four hours I've consumed 2 mountain dews, 2 grande triple-shot mochas, and one bottle of water. I'm still exhausted. The flight went well and Uncle Darrell met us at the airport, where we loaded into a large, white van. With all nine passengers and myself, I wondered if we were being kidnapped, smuggled into Texas, or if we were just on our mission trip.

At the moment, we are hanging out in the church that is hosting us (which ironically is named Memorial Lutheran compared to our own church Community of Christ at Memorial Lutheran). We get the entire second floor to the rec building to ourselves and the youth room in filled with couches to sleep on. It's wonderful compared the the shipping containers and metal bunks we stayed in on last year's New Orleans trip.

........

10:40 p.m.

Our main contact at the Krause Children's Treatment Center, Jason, came to talk to us and then we went to the the center for the first time. It was nerve-wracking being put into a gym with a bunch of teens. Keeping the conversation going was sometimes more difficult than starting one. We spent most of the time playing four-square and the guys were a lot nicer than the girls.

Monday

We wake up at 7 a.m. and have to be ready by 8:15, which is more difficult than it sounds considering I'm two hours behind and not a morning person. The church we are staying at has their Vacation Bible School this week and we'll be volunteers for them until Friday. This church is larger than ours and consequently has more kids than I'm used to in one place. Miranda, Peter and I are going to be in the music room all week. I have a feeling I'll know all of these Preschool songs for the rest of my life.

VBS ends around noon and we come back for lunch and free time. We also used this time to figure out what we'll be doing at the worship service at Krause. Every day we have to create our own service and I'm not sure how the kids will react to what we do. Apparently the kids go on a volunteer basis but that doesn't give me much comfort.

........

We each went up and gave brief testimonies about why we are here in Katy and why we want to help these kids. I wasn't specific about my own experiences. I was slightly shaking because I hate public speaking and I couldn't bring myself to look at people's faces. I was the only person tonight who said they used to be angry at God. I hope that made some sort of impact.

We came "home" after playing games in the gym for two hours and started planning tomorrow's worship service. More caffeine. We said our highs and lows of the day, did devotions and then prayer partners. I don't want to talk anymore. I don't want to think about the stories I've already heard. I feel like they can see right through me. I want to close my eyes and scream.

Tuesday

I'm exhausted. We've only been here three days and I want a break. I still don't want to talk to anyone. I feel guilty about not sharing with people but it's too difficult.

The kids like to play Ultimate Frisbee but we use a rubber chicken because it's more fun. Have you ever tried to throw or catch a rubber chicken? It's awkward and silly.

I met a girl today. I decided to sit alone for worship because I didn't want to be there. She (let's call her Cassy) came in the room and made a last minute decision to sit next to me. We didn't talk the entire time and I didn't find out her name until dinner. Another girl (call her Sally?) sat in the room in front of mine but has talked to me several times already. I think she wants to talk more. The kids requested a song and I had never heard it before. It was heartbreaking and I realized that Sally and Cassy were both crossing their arms like myself with their heads down.

I need to talk to them.

Thursday

I'm aware that there is a day gap. Yesterday we went to the Houston aquarium and to the ocean. It was cloudy all day but the water was warm. Pastor took us to Chick-Fil-A and we had a good time. Pastor kept saying that this was a life changing experience (going to Chick-Fil-A, that is). This was the only day we could take pictures (because we aren't permitted at the places we volunteer).

On another note, I took Miranda to the Emergency Room tonight. We were setting up for worship and she stepped back and then collapsed into a chair. She said it felt like her bone moved but the xrays came back good. She's in a brace and crutches to help with the sprain. I'm glad it went smoothly. She has a high pain tolerance and I knew it was bad when she started crying. I was upset but as soon as I realized she was seriously injured I went into this weird calm. Pastor and I took her to the ER and the rest of the group staying at Krause.

When we came back to pick them up though, we could tell something was wrong. The looks on their faces was as if they witnessed death. I don't know how else to describe it. Apparently, they had just left the building when a girl that Erica had spoken to jumped a side fence. She looked at them and then ran away. We're in shock. We're hurt. I'm confused.

Friday

It's the last day here. I don't know how to talk about it. We played board games at Krause and I got to see Sally again. I wanted to talk to her so much but I didn't know how, so we just played UNO. I didn't see Cassy until worship and she sat next to me again. She smiles now. She wanted to know where we were yesterday. I'm going to miss her because she's such a sweetheart.

I gave the mini sermon at worship and was shaking pretty bad. I wrote it at lunch and it was about prayer. Everyone told me it was good but I wish I hadn't been so nervous. I couldn't look at their faces again. Cassy and "L" sat next to me. I can't think about leaving them. I just think about the girl who was waving to us from the trailer when we arrived. I think about the girl who told Ally that she saved her life. I think about Cassy and L and Sally hugging me and joking that I should put them in a duffell bag and take them home. Cassy hugged me three times and I could barely hold back my tears. I don't want to leave, now that we are finally comfortable with visiting and talking to them.

On the other hand, I want to go home. I don't want to think about this everyday.

Monday

We packed up and left Katy, Texas on Saturday morning. Friday night we found out that my dog had to be put down and I had to tell my sister. I held her in my arms and we both cried. My baby is gone and that's still  unbelievable to me. Saturday we drove to Humble, TX to spend the afternoon at Darrell's house. He made amazing bbq and we had a good time in the pool. I don't think any of us wanted to think about the people we were leaving behind.

Our flight was delayed an hour and a half but thankfully we made it home that night. I went over to dinner at my parent's house and cried because I wasn't greeted by Starbucks. I feel like I'm living as a different person. I don't know how to reflect on this week. I was so busy and emotionally exhausted every day that now I feel numb. I'm happy to be home but it's like my brain isn't sure what to do now.

Climbing Hills: An Update on Myself for Curious Minds

I've come a long way in the past year. A year ago I was too scared to talk to anyone, let alone be honest with myself about my anxiety. Seven months ago I realized that I wasn't truly helping myself and wanted someone to fix things for me. Six months ago I had my second, terrible panic attack and, since I'm being honest, was told that I couldn't go to college for a whole year due to my awful GPA. I was in a downward slope and waiting for things to get better but they didn't. I couldn't get out of bed most days, something I've now written about on my other blog (thankfully I started writing again).

For years I've been stuck in a continuous pattern of being on top of the world, confident in myself and my abilities, and motivated to do more. Then something will happen to damage my confidence. Then something else. Then another...until finally these little chips cause enough damage to shatter the glass world, which for so long I had thought was unbreakable. It could be weeks or months until I start to climb back up the hill and the cycle starts all over again.

I'm at the top of the hill right now and I am scared that I might trip and fall down. The good news, however, is that I'm not scared all of the time. You may not understand how crucial of a difference that is. Sure I may still have my worries and wonder how long this "winning" streak will really last but it's loads better than the comparison. I'm not going to bed every night and thinking about the possibility that tomorrow morning I could quite possibly wake up and be filled with anxiety for no reason. Trust me when I say this has happened before. If anyone has anxiety, this is a possibility.

There are a few reasons why I think my stress levels have gone down considerably.

1. I was able to finish my list of short term goals (find a stable job, decrease loans, move out)
2. I moved out and I finally feel like an adult.
3. Bryce.

I refuse to feel guilty about moving out with Bryce and it's not simply because I'm stubborn. It's because I don't feel guilty. I feel more like an adult now that I'm working hard and paying bills. I've proved to myself and everyone who told me how difficult it would be that I can be independent and responsible. I've dramatically changed in how I choose to deal with my anxiety and I've never been happier. This is the best decision I've ever made for myself.

This year I have had to learn something I never wanted to accept: I'm never going to please everyone. I cannot accurately describe how difficult that is. The mentality you have as a kid dealing with extremely dependent and verbally abusive peers turns you into a person willing to anything to make them happy, even if it means putting your own happiness on hold. That guilt trigger never goes away and it changes into something more complex when you get older; it grows up with you. I don't want to feel guilty anymore when it comes to my own happiness. I would have never expected that I'd be living with my boyfriend and that I wasn't graduating with my associates degree right now. That wasn't part of my plan but I'm oddly grateful.

People tell you from the time you are in seventh grade that everything you do from then on determines your success in finding a good college and it's a repeating record you hear until graduation. Then we supposedly all go to college or universities but I can't help but  feel cheated. It wasn't until this past year that I started hearing stories from people about their 19 and 20 year-old selves and you know what? I keep hearing all about their mistakes and how things didn't work out how they originally had planned. While there are some people who talk to me about their regrets, I'm still surprised that the majority of people regret none of their mistakes during these years. They experienced them, they adapted their plans and they moved on. Why didn't we hear about those things among the pressures to graduate college right out of high school? Maybe if I heard more of those things a few years ago, I wouldn't have felt like such a failure this year. I want to go back to school eventually but I'm learning that there isn't a right way to live your life. That idea is utter bullshit and unrealistic.

That's what should have been on the high school agenda: teach children they will make mistakes and that they can pick up the pieces to move forward.

A Long and Overdue Reflection on Intellectual Candy and How I Would be Diabetic in Another Reality

If I were to say that it feels like forever since I've written anything on here, I can imagine you pointing at your computer screen and accusing me of being Captain Obvious. My absence can only be explained by the odd absence of words; it startles me that I suddenly stopped writing in the amounts like I have always done. I have saved my words for the margins of my old novels with cracked spines and rough pages. I look back at my entries from a year ago and I still read the words of a lost girl, who does not know what to do with her life and how she will get there successfully. To write of all these deeper feelings is like admitting defeat, admitting with great reluctance that I cannot see how I have changed in this past year. Here I am, freshly nineteen, and I feel like I've failed at growing up. Doesn't anyone else feel this desperate, panic-filled cloud settling down upon them? This air has become humid with the summer heat and I am struggling to enjoy myself like I believe I should.

College this year has been equivalent to candy. Each quarter felt like a new treat, a new opportunity, and I would gorge myself with as much information as possible until somewhere along the line I'd become aware of the sickening twirl of my stomach. The worries would consume me. I'd question everything, lose all interest in the taste of such sugary goodness, and do my best not to admit how ashamed and embarrassed I was for not listening to my parents; I should have moderated my diet....and then it continues again.

What can I say for my behavior? Nothing. I cannot even appease myself. Therefore I read my worn copies of Anna Karenina and The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana and To Kill a Mockingbird and my latest obsession, Reading Lolita in Tehran. I read; I underline words that make me want to weep, that make me cry silently, that make my heart skip a beat with their lovely prose and the ordinary words that only have personal significance. I wish I had an idea for a book. I'd write it and prove to myself perhaps that I am passionate about writing but able and able to finish something, finish anything, too. I completely immerse myself in the fictional pages that are haphazardly stacked under and around my bed, and I write about it all in my little leather book.

This is my game of hide and seek: I take my little Italian-made notebook to whatever sort of place. I sit. I write. My observations scratch the surfaces of those creamy pages (with the black inked pen I had so meticulously chosen that morning) and I drink my tea or coffee in silence. And when you see me, approach me, strike up an ordinary comment that carefully follows the rules of conversation between strangers, At least it is not raining this morning...Were you in my last college class? History, right?...Do you know when the next bus arrives?... when you break my silence with your words I look at you with a smile and decide it is time to move on. I feel caught like a child stealing more candy.

How I wish I could moderate my sweets.

How to Write an Academic Paper (and maintain relative sanity)

I wanted to write this blog entry for myself and because I wanted to share it with everyone who has ever struggled with writing a paper. I took honors and AP English classes, I read and write constantly, I've had to do a research paper for each year of high school, and I admit (embrace the nerd!) that I love researching things. That said, I know how to write a paper.

The usual set back is that I cannot write a good research paper, or I cannot get enough length of solid material, or I cannot accomplish both of these things without losing my head. I hope you can use any of this to your advantage. Most of it is from my ENG 101 and ENG 102 classes from college.

10 Steps to Guide You on Your Quest

1. Brainstorm parallel or intersecting ideas (or rather points of agreement versus points of conflict) that you came across in your sources. Think of this step as making a pool for all those scattered thought processes; once they're down on paper it will be easier to keep track of them.
   
   
2. Next, write down some of the main ideas, themes, concepts or terms that you can pull from your idea pool.
   
   
3. Narrow down this list even further and pick a topic that you are interested in and that you can see yourself having enough to write about for your paper requirements. [Remember to have it be balanced so your paper, for example, won't be too broad and result in a very scattered, unorganized final paper. On the other hand, too narrow of a topic might not provide you with enough resources to reach your goal length.]
   
   
4. Time for Quote-Mining! Reread your notes and sources to find quotes you may want to use within your paper. Type them up (later all you'll have to do is copy/paste them) and cite them.
   
   
5. If you think it will help make the organization process easier for your paper, move quotes around on the document; group quotes together that are similar in ideas or that support your argument in the same way.
   
   
6. Quote Sandwiches! These are the probably the quickest way to write thorough, organized paragraphs.
• Introduction: [identify source (might also establish ethos or credibility), context, significance]
• Evidence: [either a quote or paraphrase. Cite correctly]
• Analysis: [Breaks down, interprets, and connects to your claim. Also is the transition to next idea, or quote sandwich.]
  
  
7. Write a conclusion. Your last chance to leave an impression on the reader and "build their memory" regarding your thesis.
   
   
8. Write an introduction. Now that you actually know the point you wanted to make in your paper, you can better introduce the reader to your topic or ease them into your thesis. Consider the different ways you can capture their attention, prepare and interest your reader, and how to best present your argument.
   
   
9. Make sure you write your paper with enough time to put it away for a while. Proofing your paper works best, not a 4 a.m. with another cup of coffee, but after taking a day of rest for sanity's sake. When you reread your paper, try to forget everything you already know about it from your research and pretend to be a new reader, or just have someone else read a copy of it too. Multiple opinions can strengthen your paper because they can point out stupid grammar mistakes as well as show you if they got lost in a transition, etc.
   
   
10. Final step: Revel in your glory and satisfaction...then get some sleep.

Some Useful Links:

• After searching through those stupid databases for sources try The Free Library (also might provide you with interesting topics for a paper): http://www.thefreelibrary.com/
• College usually gives you more freedom to write about some pretty cool things (like Facebook, Wikipedia, or zombies...all of which I've included in previous papers). This site features videos of really interesting, intelligent people talking about their really interesting, intelligent ideas. *Warning* this site could prove to be as detrimental to your writing process as it could prove to be helpful: instead of staying on track you may find yourself procrastinating for hours watching neat videos rather than writing: http://www.ted.com/talks
• Not much to say here except, thank you creators of this site. Your guide to anything dealing with general writing or MLA format. Bookmark this and use it: http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/747/01/
• Although you should always double check to see if comes out correctly (use link above to do so), here is a link to a citation generator: http://www.easybib.com/

Super Glue My Heart Together

I hate this. I absolutely hate it. I want to curl up in a ball and cry like a child. I hate having to act grown up mature about it, knowing that life can suck sometimes and I only have so much control. I hate how my stomach hurts, I get headaches, and that I'm so easy to read when something is bothering me. I hate feeling every year as if I'm choosing one half of my family over the other half, that its like I'm ripping myself a new home. It's this terrible, unfulfilling cycle of back and forth. I'm so blessed with everything but on days like today, when I have to pack up and leave people again, I wish I didn't have to choose. I want to be selfish, I want to be spoiled, and I want to believe that I can have both halves of my family with me in the same place. It kills me that I know deep down that this isn't how life works, that people can't follow me forever, and that I need to accept things to move on.

Probably for the first time in my life, I don't know when I'll see the other half of my family again. It's always been easy to follow, not easy to execute, but easy to live with. I'd always spend the summers with my dad and every other Christmas. After I leave tomorrow, I won't have a definite date of when I'll return to my other home. I don't like this. I hate this feeling of the unknown about something I've always known. I've always been able to cope with the constant back and forth because I knew exactly what month I'd see them next. I feel like I've been laying bread crumbs all these years and now someone has picked them up when I wasn't around.

Within the hour, it will be the new year, 2011. Every year I'm always so hopeful about it and excited, but then the night comes around and I realize that it doesn't really matter. It means nothing unless we make it mean something ourselves. No clock or countdown can make reality better or our lives easier. And yet...here we are; thrilled by the idea every single year that this one stroke at midnight will change everything. We're brainwashing ourselves, but really we can change our attitudes or change or actions in life anytime we wish.

I'm being such a downer but at this point in time I don't care. I don't understand how I can be so incredibly happy and still feel so lost. For the first time in my life I'm enjoying school, I have more than two amazing friends, and I'm doing something I'm passionate about all at the same time. Why does it feel like I'm still missing something?

Hold me tight enough that I don't fall apart at the airport terminal.