Why I Think Memories are More Important Than Things.
When i moved down to Florida in May of this year I had my head full of all of these awesome Disney souvenirs that I would bring back to Kentucky with me. Here it is 6 months into my 8 month internship and the number of Disney things that I have is very little, of course I have a few things here and there, but nothing huge and nothing that has been outrageously expensive. This is because at some point I decided that the memories I was making were worth more than any extravagant thing that I could purchase. The small things that I have all have memories behind them, pins that I have travelled countless miles in the parks to find, a bracelet that started my journey here, another for my favorite character and then one more that my best friend gave to me, a few pairs of ears to celebrate some exciting moments spent with friends and millions of pictures that mark the moments that I will remember from my program. While I do have these things that I now cherish, the more important things that come with them are the memories. So now, I am going to continue this habit in life, so that I make sure that every day I have a great thing to remember. Because, in the end memories are something that can never be taken away from you...so now in 2 months I am off on my next adventure in life ready to spend my money making memories instead of on trivial things that wonât matter within a few months times. Memories and photographs are something that I can take with me for the rest of my life, which is why I now want to explore the world and go on to collect more and more memories to share with my children in the future. My children arenât going to want to hear about the time that I bought a new pair of shoes, but they will want to hear about the day that I decided to drive to the beach at 5 in the evening just to watch the sunset and find a local restaurant to eat at. They will want to hear that the most exciting moments in life come from doing what feels right at that moment and not getting things in life.
I felt homesick within the four walls of my own bedroom. In my lonely world, the voices of the people that surrounded me echoed off the emptiness of my soul.
At fifteen years old I felt like the shell of a person. There was nothing left inside of me. In a world of opportunities, I suddenly found myself feeling as though I had none left. I would refuse to get out of bed, sleeping for days at a time. I no longer felt any interest in having human contact in any form. I lived with a constant headache that nothing seemed to ease, except for one single thing. Thatâs when the addiction set in; thatâs when I couldnât get through a day without a flame meeting my skin.
Self-harm is common among people suffering from mental illness because it gives them the feeling of control, when in all reality itâs an addiction that is impulsive. Itâs like finally getting your fix.
Everyday I hated myself even more and more, and it seemed like so did everyone around me. Being a teenager is hard for anyone who is the least bit different. During the height of being bullied, in grade 10 and 11, I kept track of every name someone called me, every terrible thing someone wrote about me, every time someone laughed at me in the hallways. I would burn myself for each time someone said or did something.
âYouâre a slut.â Burn.
âYouâre ugly.â Burn.
âNobody likes you.â Burn.
Most days I was burning myself between 10 and 30 times.
Occasionally, people would encourage me to kill myself.
Then, one day, I discovered a Facebook hate page dedicated to me. The page was made by a boy I dated briefly who I had considered one of my best friends prior. Many of the group members were also people I thought to be my friends. I had never been so devastated in my life.
Other peoples hate towards me, had pushed me to hate everything about myself. Their words, their actions, their looks... I felt dehumanized. Â
I battled alone for nearly two years until one night I decided I was going to kill myself.
I had bottled up everything I had felt, and hadnât been able to feel, and finally couldnât do it anymore. I sat alone in my bedroom, lights off, with a handful of pills and a bottle of champagne.
Three months later I was taking a combination of Cipralex and Trazadone after being diagnosed with Manic Depressive Disorder and Anxiety. Everything that happened within that time period is a blur.
I slept all day and laid awake staring into the abyss each night.
I could no longer feel a thing while awake, but would wake up in the night in a fit of panic, crying uncontrollably and hyperventilating.
Antidepressants took away the overwhelming urge to kill myself, but they didnât make me happy again. Itâs a common misconception with being medicated. It effects everyone differently. I was just a numb zombie, going through the motions. I felt still felt trapped by my illness. I lived this way for another two years or so.Â
Finally, I decided to shed some of the dead weight off of my shoulders. I let go of a two and a half year relationship that was toxic. I walked out of the part-time restaurant job that gave me anxiety. I tossed out old clothes, bedding, and photographs.Â
I started my freshman year of college.Â
Given my experiences in high school I was terrified to go to college. I quickly learned that high school and college are two entirely different worlds. I found myself meeting new people with similar interests as me, I was intrigued by my program of study, I began enjoying social settings and with this new found positivity in my life, the negativity began dwindling away.Â
Now thatâs not to say that I didnât experience my illness anymore. There is always the potential for relapse. Depression hovers in the shadows of your soul waiting for you to leave the door open a crack. It attacks in the dead of the night, when you have your back turned. Depression doesnât fight fairly, it preys on you when youâre at your weakest. Everyday is a battle but you learn that you canât tip toe through life peaking around the corners or hiding under your bedsheets.Â
College changed everything for me. I began to experience life again, I began to open up to other people again, I began to like myself again. I no longer felt like the empty shell where a human being should have been. I got to know myself for the first time since the ninth grade.Â
Today, a year and two months after my first day of college, I sit in the bed I share with my boyfriend, I look over at him napping with our kitten, his arm draped over her and resting on me. I work on a school assignment and text my mom about putting up the Christmas tree next week with my brother. I plan my 20th birthday party for next month, a birthday I didnât think I would reach. I am the happiest I have ever been. I trace my fingers over the scars on my wrist and think that I almost ended this life, I almost took away this moment. When I was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen I thought that it wouldnât get better. I thought the only way out was to die.Â
I know you hear it all the time, but thereâs always another way to heal. Iâm thankful everyday that I am on this earth, that I am experiencing this life.Â
Why Leaving My Small Town Was The Worst Decision. Ever.
I grew up in a beautiful, rural town of no more than 2,000 people. Everyone knew your mom and them. Everyone knew that you didnât show up for Sunday service. Everyone was at the football game on Friday night and Saturday mornings were reserved for hunting.
My town had two stop lights, two gas stations, one grocery and one Dollar General. We are surrounded by corn fields and it takes about a half an hour to get to the nearestâŠ.well, anything. I loved it. Small town living is what I was born for. The atmosphere, the people, the way the spirit of the town comes to life on game days, the supportive community, literally everything about this town is perfect.
But then, I left.
I got up, packed my bags for college and I havenât been back. And, to be frank, I donât think I am going back any time soon.
You see, when I left my small town a whole new world opened up to me. I began mingling with cultures I never knew existed. I began seeing new towns and new faces, new landmarks and new skylines. I became addicted and my wanderlust became out of control.
I want to keep traveling. I want to see every beautiful part of this enormous, wonderful country. I need to meet new people with glamorous and terrible histories. I need to try new foods and make my own new traditions.
One day, I think Iâll settle down back into my small town. When? I have no idea. But thatâs okay. I miss that town. I miss those people. But leaving my small, rural town was the best worst decision Iâve ever not regretted.
An Open Letter to the Man Who Made Me His Second Choice
To the man who made me his second choice,
You know exactly who you are but for your own sake I wonât tell the entire world Iâll just write this letter to you and know that youâll find this and read it eventually. I have several things to say to you but I will start off with saying thank you.
Thank you for making me your second choice. Thank you for making me step back and see exactly what I truly deserve in life. Thank you for marrying some other poor girl young and saving me from miles of heartbreak in the future. Thank you for living out the life that we had planned together with your first choice, because now I realize just how miserable I would be if I had have actually been living that life right now. Thank you for forcing me to spend some time alone and grow in to the person that I am today, without you leaving me I never would have ended up here. So once again thank you, you truly have helped me so much.
Secondly, I would tell you that I hope you some day realize what youâre missing, but then I realize that you already know. Between the dozens of drunken phone calls and text messages saying that you messed up when you left me I think that you realized exactly the damage you had done within seconds of it happening. So, I donât hope you realize what youâre missing; instead I hope that you can live with yourself knowing that you screwed over the one person who ever loved you more than you love yourself.
Lastly, I want you to know that I knew that you were trouble from the start but of course I didnât care. Everyone around me warned against you and they still do to this day when you occasionally cross my mind. Everyone could see you were toxic except for me. Instead of seeing you as the toxic man that everyone else saw I saw the good in you, I saw the kind and gentle person that no one else got to witness, I got to see the teenager who was scared to death the first time that he kissed me and the one who was even more scared when he told me that he loved me the first time. Over the course of our several years in and out of our relationship the kisses and the âI love youâs became less and less sincere and instead they turned in to the occasional kiss on the cheek and a text message every once in a while that simply said âLove you.â I guess thatâs when I should have seen it coming; I should have known that there was another girl when I started hearing from you less and less and I kept seeing you tagged in different things here and there by multiple different women. I know now that every time you were âwith the boysâ or âworking on a projectâ you were off with some other girl telling her the exact same things you were telling me.
So that brings us to now, here we are in completely different points in our lives; youâre married and living the life that we wanted together with some other girl and here I am in a completely different state single and happier than I ever have been. Looking back I feel so completely stupid for giving you everything I had for so long but looking ahead I couldnât be happier that I did. Even though I may be a second choice to some man I will always be my own first choice due to the lessons that you taught me. So, the next time that you think about texting me at three in the morning or calling me after a night out at the bars, donât; and now this is where our conversation ends for now, and from my perspective, for good; so goodbye.
