24!
Hello everyone! This past Sunday was September 24, which means that this past Sunday was my birthday. I also turned 24, which means it was my golden birthday. Woo! I do enjoy celebrating my birthday, and I thought today would be a pretty good day to explain why.
People comment a lot that I seem really happy at camp. And I seem happy because I am, I have an amazing job in one of my favorite places in the world surrounded by people who love me and support me. I have found a sense of contentment in knowing that some dreams that I didn't dare vocalize for fear that they would never happen are in fact materializing in front of my eyes.
What makes camp and how I feel at camp so great is the knowledge that just a few years ago I didn't feel that way about anything, really. A time where my greatest enemy was myself. Where some part of me was always trying to convince me that I was never enough: never smart enough, never pretty enough, never happy enough, never athletic enough, never funny enough, never GOOD enough. In an attempt to repress those bad feelings in my life, I pretty much just ended up tamping down on all of my feelings, which didn't make things better. It just made me numb. For many years I would get awful stomachaches, purely from stress. No matter what I did, that little part of me never let me feel like I had done well. Eventually, I started to feel like all I wanted was peace, no matter the cost, no matter what it took to get me there. I started considering things that still break my heart that I would ever consider.
When I was a sophomore in college, I was finally fed up with how I was feeling. I booked myself an appointment at the campus Counseling Center, but I refused to tell anyone outside of my family. I somehow felt that I couldn't ever reveal any chinks in my armor, show anyone that I wasn't a picture-perfect model student who could overcome anything. My counselor, Dr. Hoevet, was a critical figure in the change of my mental health. I also attended Encounter, a retreat that I can't really overemphasize in its importance in my mental and spiritual health. I met a group of people who not only were willing to listen to me and support me, but were willing to show their flaws and weaknesses and wanted me to do the same. My vulnerability didn't make them love me less, it actually made them more willing to accept me, and were better able to support me. From that first semester of sophomore year to now, so many things have changed in my life. I studied abroad, I changed my major, I graduated from college, I watched one brother graduate from high school, I started working at camp, I watched the other brother graduate from college, I applied for and got a job at the same camp that means I get to stay here full-time. To think that even for a second I had considered something that would mean that none of that would be able to happen, it absolutely horrifies me. I have been witness to my own personal transformation, something that makes me feel intensely proud and happy to have become more and more myself.
I know for a fact that my family and friends are the reason that I am where I am today. My parents always checking in, and always, always telling me that they love me no matter what. Friends who offer hugs, food, listening ears, and movie marathons. Teachers and mentors who advocate for me, who challenge me beyond what I think I can do, who write reference letters so that I can land an amazing job. That's my biggest advice if you have a friend, a relative, a colleague who is struggling: love them. Support them as they become more themselves, and let them know that perfection is not only impossible, but a goal that can only bring upset and disappointment.
So, what does all of this have to do with my birthday? Not only have the barrage of cards, Facebook posts, texts, calls, and renditions of "Happy Birthday" been a touching and clear reminder of just how much love truly surrounds me, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment. Every birthday gives me the chance to tell that ugly voice in the back of my head to sit down and shut up. I get to say, "Look. I am living. I have lived another year full of memories, some good and some bad, but I would not trade anything to miss out on that year. No pain, no self-created deficiency of mine is going to keep me from doing my best and enjoying my life." Every year past that lowest point in my life is a win. Every happiness that I have earned or has been gifted to me is an achievement that I make a point to every September 24th.
To be able to celebrate this particular September 24th at camp is very sweet. This past year has been one of enormous growth, new challenges, an influx of new friends, seemingly endless moments of joy, and, something that I have craved for a very long time: a sense of peace. Every smile that people comment about on my Instagram is genuine, every sunset and pretty flower that I post actually brings me joy, and every dog and friend that I post brightens my day just by their presence. I still have bad days, bad moments, and sometimes that ugly part of me rears its head, but the good times outweigh the bad. I love more deeply now than I ever have, I cry harder when things are sad, and I laugh more when something makes me happy. I am healthy, and I love myself. I couldn't have asked anything more of my 23rd year.
24, it's nice to meet you.
~September is National Suicide Awareness Month. If you, or anyone you know is struggling, please find someone to talk to. You can call the 24-hour suicide prevention lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org for references to mental health professionals. You are loved. Yes, you, whoever you are. You are important. There are people out there who would desperately miss you if you were gone. Reach out.
My brother, Keith, wrote a wonderful article on mental health for Wabash College's student newspaper, The Bachelor. He, like far too many of us, has had to cope with the loss of someone close to him because of suicide. The memory of his friend, David Andres, is a constant reminder for him, and Keith's continued grief and commitment to that memory is a constant reminder to me of the importance of vulnerability. I cannot help anyone, and no one can help me, if I refuse to allow my flaws to be shown.
One of my college roommates, Tori, also has a very personal reason for supporting suicide awareness. She happens to be an intensely talented artist, and she is using her incredible gift to raise money for Project Semicolon. You can purchase one of her amazing semicolon prints and read up on the awesome work that Project Semicolon does on her Etsy page, and I encourage you to follow her on social media and support her art if only because her posts are sources of joy whenever they pop up in my day.~
People comment a lot that I seem really happy at camp. And I seem happy because I am, I have an amazing job in one of my favorite places in the world surrounded by people who love me and support me. I have found a sense of contentment in knowing that some dreams that I didn't dare vocalize for fear that they would never happen are in fact materializing in front of my eyes.
What makes camp and how I feel at camp so great is the knowledge that just a few years ago I didn't feel that way about anything, really. A time where my greatest enemy was myself. Where some part of me was always trying to convince me that I was never enough: never smart enough, never pretty enough, never happy enough, never athletic enough, never funny enough, never GOOD enough. In an attempt to repress those bad feelings in my life, I pretty much just ended up tamping down on all of my feelings, which didn't make things better. It just made me numb. For many years I would get awful stomachaches, purely from stress. No matter what I did, that little part of me never let me feel like I had done well. Eventually, I started to feel like all I wanted was peace, no matter the cost, no matter what it took to get me there. I started considering things that still break my heart that I would ever consider.
When I was a sophomore in college, I was finally fed up with how I was feeling. I booked myself an appointment at the campus Counseling Center, but I refused to tell anyone outside of my family. I somehow felt that I couldn't ever reveal any chinks in my armor, show anyone that I wasn't a picture-perfect model student who could overcome anything. My counselor, Dr. Hoevet, was a critical figure in the change of my mental health. I also attended Encounter, a retreat that I can't really overemphasize in its importance in my mental and spiritual health. I met a group of people who not only were willing to listen to me and support me, but were willing to show their flaws and weaknesses and wanted me to do the same. My vulnerability didn't make them love me less, it actually made them more willing to accept me, and were better able to support me. From that first semester of sophomore year to now, so many things have changed in my life. I studied abroad, I changed my major, I graduated from college, I watched one brother graduate from high school, I started working at camp, I watched the other brother graduate from college, I applied for and got a job at the same camp that means I get to stay here full-time. To think that even for a second I had considered something that would mean that none of that would be able to happen, it absolutely horrifies me. I have been witness to my own personal transformation, something that makes me feel intensely proud and happy to have become more and more myself.
I know for a fact that my family and friends are the reason that I am where I am today. My parents always checking in, and always, always telling me that they love me no matter what. Friends who offer hugs, food, listening ears, and movie marathons. Teachers and mentors who advocate for me, who challenge me beyond what I think I can do, who write reference letters so that I can land an amazing job. That's my biggest advice if you have a friend, a relative, a colleague who is struggling: love them. Support them as they become more themselves, and let them know that perfection is not only impossible, but a goal that can only bring upset and disappointment.
So, what does all of this have to do with my birthday? Not only have the barrage of cards, Facebook posts, texts, calls, and renditions of "Happy Birthday" been a touching and clear reminder of just how much love truly surrounds me, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment. Every birthday gives me the chance to tell that ugly voice in the back of my head to sit down and shut up. I get to say, "Look. I am living. I have lived another year full of memories, some good and some bad, but I would not trade anything to miss out on that year. No pain, no self-created deficiency of mine is going to keep me from doing my best and enjoying my life." Every year past that lowest point in my life is a win. Every happiness that I have earned or has been gifted to me is an achievement that I make a point to every September 24th.
To be able to celebrate this particular September 24th at camp is very sweet. This past year has been one of enormous growth, new challenges, an influx of new friends, seemingly endless moments of joy, and, something that I have craved for a very long time: a sense of peace. Every smile that people comment about on my Instagram is genuine, every sunset and pretty flower that I post actually brings me joy, and every dog and friend that I post brightens my day just by their presence. I still have bad days, bad moments, and sometimes that ugly part of me rears its head, but the good times outweigh the bad. I love more deeply now than I ever have, I cry harder when things are sad, and I laugh more when something makes me happy. I am healthy, and I love myself. I couldn't have asked anything more of my 23rd year.
24, it's nice to meet you.
~September is National Suicide Awareness Month. If you, or anyone you know is struggling, please find someone to talk to. You can call the 24-hour suicide prevention lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org for references to mental health professionals. You are loved. Yes, you, whoever you are. You are important. There are people out there who would desperately miss you if you were gone. Reach out.
My brother, Keith, wrote a wonderful article on mental health for Wabash College's student newspaper, The Bachelor. He, like far too many of us, has had to cope with the loss of someone close to him because of suicide. The memory of his friend, David Andres, is a constant reminder for him, and Keith's continued grief and commitment to that memory is a constant reminder to me of the importance of vulnerability. I cannot help anyone, and no one can help me, if I refuse to allow my flaws to be shown.
One of my college roommates, Tori, also has a very personal reason for supporting suicide awareness. She happens to be an intensely talented artist, and she is using her incredible gift to raise money for Project Semicolon. You can purchase one of her amazing semicolon prints and read up on the awesome work that Project Semicolon does on her Etsy page, and I encourage you to follow her on social media and support her art if only because her posts are sources of joy whenever they pop up in my day.~
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