I did it! I started piano lessons!
It was something I've always, always wanted to do. It's definitely been quite a journey. I am a complete beginner, having never even touched a piano and having to learn music for the first time. I was using children's books for pre-school age children! Haha :)
But it was no problem for me. I love it so much. I even bought my own keyboard! I call it my "starter piano" because when I get good, I would like a full-size 88-key piano. (I already have one in mind- it's over a thousand dollars D: Help!)
So far I have learned my keys, basic note reading. I have been working on hand placement and posture and sight reading.
I highly encourage you to go for it! It's never too late! I'm a 21 year old taking a class with 7,8 year olds and I'm proud.
Friday, August 19, 2016
Friday, June 24, 2016
Cashier on Repeat.
You know how you can repeat a word so many times before it doesn't make sense anymore? I was at my cashier job last night, thinking about that. Thinking about how many times I repeat the same words and phrases everyday but yet they still never sound weird. Maybe it's because they're not one after the other? Either way, here are some of those:
"Hello!"
"Thank you!"
"Would you like your (water, milk, gallon of whatever, detergent, bleach, etc) in a bag?"
"Would you like to add an extended (1-3) service plan to your item for x amount of dollars?"
"Would you like to use this coupon?"
"Have a good (night, day, evening, weekend, holiday)."
"The bathroom is right next to customer service."
"Could I see your receipt, please?"
"The ice machine is next to customer service and there's another one next to the Vision Center."
"You can leave your watermelon in your shopping cart."
"Yes, I already scanned your drink."
"Would you like your (drink, candy bar, candy) left our or in a bag?"
"How many refills of water do you have?"
"How much money would you like to add to your card?"
"Could I see your I.D. please?"
"The pinpad is waiting for your signature whenever you are ready, ma'am/sir."
"Could I have a phone number, please?"
"Your total is .... even."
"Your change is ...."
"Your eggs are with your bread."
"There are (1-4) bags for you."
"There is one more bag over here."
"Hello!"
"Thank you!"
"Would you like your (water, milk, gallon of whatever, detergent, bleach, etc) in a bag?"
"Would you like to add an extended (1-3) service plan to your item for x amount of dollars?"
"Would you like to use this coupon?"
"Have a good (night, day, evening, weekend, holiday)."
"The bathroom is right next to customer service."
"Could I see your receipt, please?"
"The ice machine is next to customer service and there's another one next to the Vision Center."
"You can leave your watermelon in your shopping cart."
"Yes, I already scanned your drink."
"Would you like your (drink, candy bar, candy) left our or in a bag?"
"How many refills of water do you have?"
"How much money would you like to add to your card?"
"Could I see your I.D. please?"
"The pinpad is waiting for your signature whenever you are ready, ma'am/sir."
"Could I have a phone number, please?"
"Your total is .... even."
"Your change is ...."
"Your eggs are with your bread."
"There are (1-4) bags for you."
"There is one more bag over here."
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Best Friends & Sisterhood
It's kind of crazy how one minute your life is fine and then all of a sudden your world is thrown off its axis. Yesterday afternoon I was watching a show on Netflix, scrolling through Pinterest, and drinking some iced tea when my phone rang. It was charging next to me so I reached over for it and saw my best friend's picture show up. I frowned because she usually never calls me on Mondays/Tuesday during the day because she's usually at school until late on both these days. I immediately answered, thinking something funny or exciting had happened, and of course just happy about hearing her voice.
The voice wasn't hers.
It was her classmate, telling me that Erika, my best friend for almost a decade, had a seizure at school during a break and they had to call 911 to take her to the hospital. We had met before, and knew we were close friends, so they wanted me to know.
I think I stopped breathing. I think the whole world stopped.
But it didn't. I thought "what a sick twisted joke!" I immediately called her brother, who confirmed the news and told me where to go. All I could (selfishly) think was that she was fine, maybe she had just fainted or something from lack of food, sleep, whatever. I kept saying she's fine, she's fine, because when the person who understands you like no one else on the planet is not okay, then it's suddenly a whole new level of anxiety and worry. I knew she hadn't been feeling the best lately, but it all seemed so unrelated I couldn't even think straight. I figured, it's my best friend- who cares about having to go to work! I would give everything to make sure she's ok.
The one and a half hour drive to Nashville seemed endless. Everyone was going super slow and I couldn't get there fast enough. When I did, and I saw her, laying there on the hospital bed- I saw my best memories- and they all included her and her laughter and her jokes. Her laughing at something stupid I did. Us laughing together at some joke we made. Us pretending to be soap opera stars or managers or shoe salesmen. If you know us, you know we are never quiet. We are always up to something.
To have to see your strong, beautiful, hilarious, full of life life partner on a bed with a ventilator is not something I wish upon my worst enemy.
And so at one point I was so upset I wanted to call her. I reached for my phone and dialed "baeita" because we made so much fun of the way people used "bae" that it became a habit for us to call each other that, too. In the same joke, we made fun of how Hispanic people always add "-ita" or "ito" to names (Example: brendita, erikita) so hence, baeita.
Erika would be so embarrassed I'm telling you this.
Anyway I almost pushed the green call button before I realized what I was doing. But I needed to her tell me a stupid joke. I needed her to laugh and to make fun of something with me. I wanted her to joke about the cute doctors and how messed up her hair was from the neuro tests. I wanted to tell her how utterly silly she looked with all those tubes coming in and out of her body. I wanted to tell her that every time the nurse tried to stick her, I wanted to stick the nurse with my fist. That I wanted them to stop hurting her. I wanted her to call me and answer with "Speak to me" and then I'd laugh and tell her to quit and she'd laugh too and then we'd have a 2 hour conversation before finally I'd say "so the reason why I called..." haha.
The voice wasn't hers.
It was her classmate, telling me that Erika, my best friend for almost a decade, had a seizure at school during a break and they had to call 911 to take her to the hospital. We had met before, and knew we were close friends, so they wanted me to know.
I think I stopped breathing. I think the whole world stopped.
But it didn't. I thought "what a sick twisted joke!" I immediately called her brother, who confirmed the news and told me where to go. All I could (selfishly) think was that she was fine, maybe she had just fainted or something from lack of food, sleep, whatever. I kept saying she's fine, she's fine, because when the person who understands you like no one else on the planet is not okay, then it's suddenly a whole new level of anxiety and worry. I knew she hadn't been feeling the best lately, but it all seemed so unrelated I couldn't even think straight. I figured, it's my best friend- who cares about having to go to work! I would give everything to make sure she's ok.
The one and a half hour drive to Nashville seemed endless. Everyone was going super slow and I couldn't get there fast enough. When I did, and I saw her, laying there on the hospital bed- I saw my best memories- and they all included her and her laughter and her jokes. Her laughing at something stupid I did. Us laughing together at some joke we made. Us pretending to be soap opera stars or managers or shoe salesmen. If you know us, you know we are never quiet. We are always up to something.
To have to see your strong, beautiful, hilarious, full of life life partner on a bed with a ventilator is not something I wish upon my worst enemy.
And so at one point I was so upset I wanted to call her. I reached for my phone and dialed "baeita" because we made so much fun of the way people used "bae" that it became a habit for us to call each other that, too. In the same joke, we made fun of how Hispanic people always add "-ita" or "ito" to names (Example: brendita, erikita) so hence, baeita.
Erika would be so embarrassed I'm telling you this.
Anyway I almost pushed the green call button before I realized what I was doing. But I needed to her tell me a stupid joke. I needed her to laugh and to make fun of something with me. I wanted her to joke about the cute doctors and how messed up her hair was from the neuro tests. I wanted to tell her how utterly silly she looked with all those tubes coming in and out of her body. I wanted to tell her that every time the nurse tried to stick her, I wanted to stick the nurse with my fist. That I wanted them to stop hurting her. I wanted her to call me and answer with "Speak to me" and then I'd laugh and tell her to quit and she'd laugh too and then we'd have a 2 hour conversation before finally I'd say "so the reason why I called..." haha.
But of course I couldn't.
Please pray with me for my best friend
Please pray with me for my best friend
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
To All the People Who've Helped Me
Once again I'd like to write on a prevailing topic in my life. If you've kept up with my past posts you probably know the reason I started blogging at all was a way of recording my journey towards happiness. Or what I define happiness.
If you don't know, let me recap:
I was diagnosed with reoccurring major depression with generalized anxiety disorder in September of the year 2015. I started Prozac that same month. It was a tough time in my life. I started psychotherapy in November that same year and stopped it in April 2016. I began meeting with a Christian counselor that same month. I started a combination of Prozac and Wellbutrin in March of 2016 and up until now, it has been my lifeline along with counseling and my close ones.
Let me start off with saying that it's not until you're looking back at something in your life that you really see it. What I mean by that is that it took all this time for me to be able to look back on my depression and to see it what it really was. I feel like I look back and all I see is darkness. And it was- dark. It was absolutely horrible.
But now, over 8 months later, I was able to look back and see that while yes, it was dark and it was painful and overwhelming, not once did I stop fighting.
And to me, to someone who is extremely hard on themselves, that is the most amazing thing about this whole process.
To my best friend: You have been there through everything. You have given me unconditional love, support, and an open ear to always listen. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have gone to the doctor. I wouldn't have continued treatment. I wouldn't have woken up and fought everyday. You are the reason why I did all that, and you helped me when I couldn't help myself. I have no way of thanking you. I truly do not. Every time I look back to that time, all I see is you and you have stuck through literally EVERYTHING I have thrown at you. I truly do not deserve a friend like you. Thank you for sticking with me through the tears, through the days when I didn't call you back, when I didn't speak to you for days. You always called me back and you always listened and let me see Cat when I was feeling down. You got angry with me, rightfully so and you were never afraid to call me out on my behavior.
To my doctors/psychologists/nurses: Even though it's your job to deal with mental illness, I truly appreciate you being part of my journey because you made me feel welcomed and cared for. You listened and didn't undermine my symptoms. You told me there was hope and you cared about me and wanted to see me get better. You made me feel comfortable and open with you and I felt like you were truly rooting for me. You heard my complaints and you addressed them the minute they were spoken. You believed in my treatment, even when I didn't. You had hope where I didn't. And I'm thankful for the fact that you continued to push me in my treatment and to take my medicine and to be patient and to give it time.
To my Grammie: Just like my best friend, you listened and helped me when this whole thing started. You encouraged me to get help and even offered to go with me. I think that was when I finally decided I needed to do something about it. Because I couldn't stand to see you be worried about me. Initially I told myself I'd do it for you, but then once I was there I realized I needed to do this thing for myself. I HAD to get better and be around for you, for Erika. Nothing else mattered except being the same person you had met and loved. I love you Grammie.
To my counselor: I tell everyone I meet that they should do counseling and then I tell them that you are the best counselor for that job, haha. Seriously though. If I could have the attention of the whole entire world for fifteen seconds, I would tell them to try counseling with you. Because on that first day, when I spoke to you on the phone before our first session, I truly felt heard and understood like never before. Even though you might have never gone through what I was going through, you listened intently and you empathized. And for that, I will never be able to express how grateful I am. You give me the courage to want to be a better person and you make me believe in myself. You always greet me with a smile and have warmth and love and trust. I seriously could not have made it this far without you. I hope I can make the progress you want me to make and I hope I can try to be the best person I can be.
To anyone I've forgotten: Somehow, somewhere, you helped. Even by doing something small. Even if it was just inviting me over to lunch- that helped, because there were times when I would have chosen to lie in the dark crying. Even if it was for talking on the phone. Or letting me take it easy at work because I was having a bad day. Or for covering for me at work to let me take a sick day and still allow my work to get somewhat complete. For telling it was going to be ok. For sharing your own stories of overcoming, and for sharing your tips and personal struggles. For encouraging me during those hard times. For making me smile when all I felt like doing was crying.
There are too many of you. You'll always be a part of me, of my journey. Of my life.
If you don't know, let me recap:
I was diagnosed with reoccurring major depression with generalized anxiety disorder in September of the year 2015. I started Prozac that same month. It was a tough time in my life. I started psychotherapy in November that same year and stopped it in April 2016. I began meeting with a Christian counselor that same month. I started a combination of Prozac and Wellbutrin in March of 2016 and up until now, it has been my lifeline along with counseling and my close ones.
Let me start off with saying that it's not until you're looking back at something in your life that you really see it. What I mean by that is that it took all this time for me to be able to look back on my depression and to see it what it really was. I feel like I look back and all I see is darkness. And it was- dark. It was absolutely horrible.
But now, over 8 months later, I was able to look back and see that while yes, it was dark and it was painful and overwhelming, not once did I stop fighting.
And to me, to someone who is extremely hard on themselves, that is the most amazing thing about this whole process.
To my best friend: You have been there through everything. You have given me unconditional love, support, and an open ear to always listen. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have gone to the doctor. I wouldn't have continued treatment. I wouldn't have woken up and fought everyday. You are the reason why I did all that, and you helped me when I couldn't help myself. I have no way of thanking you. I truly do not. Every time I look back to that time, all I see is you and you have stuck through literally EVERYTHING I have thrown at you. I truly do not deserve a friend like you. Thank you for sticking with me through the tears, through the days when I didn't call you back, when I didn't speak to you for days. You always called me back and you always listened and let me see Cat when I was feeling down. You got angry with me, rightfully so and you were never afraid to call me out on my behavior.
To my doctors/psychologists/nurses: Even though it's your job to deal with mental illness, I truly appreciate you being part of my journey because you made me feel welcomed and cared for. You listened and didn't undermine my symptoms. You told me there was hope and you cared about me and wanted to see me get better. You made me feel comfortable and open with you and I felt like you were truly rooting for me. You heard my complaints and you addressed them the minute they were spoken. You believed in my treatment, even when I didn't. You had hope where I didn't. And I'm thankful for the fact that you continued to push me in my treatment and to take my medicine and to be patient and to give it time.
To my Grammie: Just like my best friend, you listened and helped me when this whole thing started. You encouraged me to get help and even offered to go with me. I think that was when I finally decided I needed to do something about it. Because I couldn't stand to see you be worried about me. Initially I told myself I'd do it for you, but then once I was there I realized I needed to do this thing for myself. I HAD to get better and be around for you, for Erika. Nothing else mattered except being the same person you had met and loved. I love you Grammie.
To my counselor: I tell everyone I meet that they should do counseling and then I tell them that you are the best counselor for that job, haha. Seriously though. If I could have the attention of the whole entire world for fifteen seconds, I would tell them to try counseling with you. Because on that first day, when I spoke to you on the phone before our first session, I truly felt heard and understood like never before. Even though you might have never gone through what I was going through, you listened intently and you empathized. And for that, I will never be able to express how grateful I am. You give me the courage to want to be a better person and you make me believe in myself. You always greet me with a smile and have warmth and love and trust. I seriously could not have made it this far without you. I hope I can make the progress you want me to make and I hope I can try to be the best person I can be.
To anyone I've forgotten: Somehow, somewhere, you helped. Even by doing something small. Even if it was just inviting me over to lunch- that helped, because there were times when I would have chosen to lie in the dark crying. Even if it was for talking on the phone. Or letting me take it easy at work because I was having a bad day. Or for covering for me at work to let me take a sick day and still allow my work to get somewhat complete. For telling it was going to be ok. For sharing your own stories of overcoming, and for sharing your tips and personal struggles. For encouraging me during those hard times. For making me smile when all I felt like doing was crying.
There are too many of you. You'll always be a part of me, of my journey. Of my life.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
& She Lived Happily Ever After
When you are a little girl everything and everyone treats you like a princess. What do all princesses have? Not horses. Or castles. Or jewels.
They all have princes- and they live happily ever after.
It's not anything unusual for girls as young as 10 to be planning their wedding and dreaming about their dream boy.
I was one of those girls.
My first crush was an African American boy in my 2nd grade class. I was around 7 years old and I don't know why I liked him. I think he just stood out as being different and he was noticeable.
Before long, I was 15 and having my first boyfriend. I know, I know. I was a late arriver to the dating scene. Had I known this would affect me much later as an adult, I would have embraced it wholeheartedly.
But it did nothing but plunge my self-esteem into the dark depths of murky water below freezing temperatures.
It's not that boys weren't interested in me, it's that it never went anywhere.
The first boy who I went on a date with was a little older than me. Not by much, but he LOOKED older on the account that was almost 6' tall. I had to stand on chairs to be able to hug him. He was sweet. He liked me. He said nice things to me. I liked the attention.
After him, the boys that wanted me were all pubescent, hormonal messes who I had no interest in. At around this point, I started to realize how uninterested I was in relationships. I didn't like having to always be thinking of someone in the back of my mind. How everything you did could affect them. I did like having someone there for me, and I liked the attention and love and affection and validation that I was loved. But the rest of it- it wasn't appealing to me. I started serial-dating as I liked to call it. I had flings. Those flings often became super serious. Like LOVE serious. Thinking about my first love still sends shivers down my spine. Of all the boys I could tell you about, there is just something in common with all of them: they were ALL short-lived. I didn't like to stick around for that long. Or maybe they didn't. Who knows. I've learned it takes 2 people to make a relationship work so I won't blame it all on them, but I also won't take 100% of the blame either.
When I was 18, I fell in love. Deep, plunging, burning red, love. It was amazing. To this day I still consider this man to be the very first man who ever truly loved me and who I wholly and truly loved. It was short-lived of course- the romance. Because of a lot of reasons, but NOT because the love left. The friendship that was left continued on for several more years. It was great. Until it wasn't. I decided that I didn't like what he was giving me anymore. It wasn't enough for me, and I was brave enough to walk away. It was a hard decision- one that burnt my throat and left me empty and shattered. I needed to leave though, because staying would have been harder.
After him, came another man. He was six years older than me. It was during this time that I made a choice. I would NOT base my worth or happiness on a man. I didn't NEED a man to complete me. Only I (and God) complete me. So really, if I do end up getting married, well then great! I hope it's to someone who makes me laugh and who loves and protects me and who encourages me to be nothing else but who I am. A man who will lift me up not just emotionally, but also spiritually. He will kiss my nose in the morning and he will call me cute names. His laugh will cure every piece of broken trust in my heart. His smile will alleviate the scars of all the shatters left behind by others who were not enough to love me. He will give me children, and he will never want to give up on our love. We might not like each other 24/7 but love will be around forever. We will work through everything together.
I can't wait to meet you, future spouse. I can't wait to feel your warmth next to me as we sleep. I can't wait to kiss your lips on a 7am Sunday morning and watch the sunlight illuminate your hair against the pillow. I can't wait to be among our loved ones and glance over and catch your eye and have my heart skip a beat. I can't wait to see you at your highest, but also at your lowest.
The thing is, I CAN wait. Until I'm ready. Until YOU'RE ready. Until God is ready for us to meet.
If it doesn't happen, then that's okay too. I will live for myself and for no one else but my God. And that's perfectly fine. Until then, I'm with me. Whoever that is. :)
They all have princes- and they live happily ever after.
It's not anything unusual for girls as young as 10 to be planning their wedding and dreaming about their dream boy.
I was one of those girls.
My first crush was an African American boy in my 2nd grade class. I was around 7 years old and I don't know why I liked him. I think he just stood out as being different and he was noticeable.
Before long, I was 15 and having my first boyfriend. I know, I know. I was a late arriver to the dating scene. Had I known this would affect me much later as an adult, I would have embraced it wholeheartedly.
But it did nothing but plunge my self-esteem into the dark depths of murky water below freezing temperatures.
It's not that boys weren't interested in me, it's that it never went anywhere.
The first boy who I went on a date with was a little older than me. Not by much, but he LOOKED older on the account that was almost 6' tall. I had to stand on chairs to be able to hug him. He was sweet. He liked me. He said nice things to me. I liked the attention.
After him, the boys that wanted me were all pubescent, hormonal messes who I had no interest in. At around this point, I started to realize how uninterested I was in relationships. I didn't like having to always be thinking of someone in the back of my mind. How everything you did could affect them. I did like having someone there for me, and I liked the attention and love and affection and validation that I was loved. But the rest of it- it wasn't appealing to me. I started serial-dating as I liked to call it. I had flings. Those flings often became super serious. Like LOVE serious. Thinking about my first love still sends shivers down my spine. Of all the boys I could tell you about, there is just something in common with all of them: they were ALL short-lived. I didn't like to stick around for that long. Or maybe they didn't. Who knows. I've learned it takes 2 people to make a relationship work so I won't blame it all on them, but I also won't take 100% of the blame either.
When I was 18, I fell in love. Deep, plunging, burning red, love. It was amazing. To this day I still consider this man to be the very first man who ever truly loved me and who I wholly and truly loved. It was short-lived of course- the romance. Because of a lot of reasons, but NOT because the love left. The friendship that was left continued on for several more years. It was great. Until it wasn't. I decided that I didn't like what he was giving me anymore. It wasn't enough for me, and I was brave enough to walk away. It was a hard decision- one that burnt my throat and left me empty and shattered. I needed to leave though, because staying would have been harder.
After him, came another man. He was six years older than me. It was during this time that I made a choice. I would NOT base my worth or happiness on a man. I didn't NEED a man to complete me. Only I (and God) complete me. So really, if I do end up getting married, well then great! I hope it's to someone who makes me laugh and who loves and protects me and who encourages me to be nothing else but who I am. A man who will lift me up not just emotionally, but also spiritually. He will kiss my nose in the morning and he will call me cute names. His laugh will cure every piece of broken trust in my heart. His smile will alleviate the scars of all the shatters left behind by others who were not enough to love me. He will give me children, and he will never want to give up on our love. We might not like each other 24/7 but love will be around forever. We will work through everything together.
I can't wait to meet you, future spouse. I can't wait to feel your warmth next to me as we sleep. I can't wait to kiss your lips on a 7am Sunday morning and watch the sunlight illuminate your hair against the pillow. I can't wait to be among our loved ones and glance over and catch your eye and have my heart skip a beat. I can't wait to see you at your highest, but also at your lowest.
The thing is, I CAN wait. Until I'm ready. Until YOU'RE ready. Until God is ready for us to meet.
If it doesn't happen, then that's okay too. I will live for myself and for no one else but my God. And that's perfectly fine. Until then, I'm with me. Whoever that is. :)
Saturday, April 16, 2016
On your 23rd birthday
I met you when you were 19 years old. I was 18 and not even close to grown up.
I am now 21, almost 22, and today is your 23rd birthday.
We stopped talking over a year ago. It was a mutual decision that brought forth not only sorrow and grief- but also joy and contentment and peace- something we had not had for a long time.
When we met it was like magic. My life changed. You were like the sun- bright and shiny and warm. You brought laughter and you brought joy and you brought confidence. From the beginning you were so sure of yourself, and I absolutely loved that. I craved that kind of feeling in someone.
What we had was quick and intense. It was brief, but real. It was great, but sad. It was love, but it hurt.
I will never regret what we went through because I honestly believe to this day that we had something real. Life got in the way. You needed to finish school, you needed to focus on it.
There was too much in the way of what we had. Too many disappointments and tears and heartbreak. Too many broken promises and misspoken words and mismatched actions.
We had so much and yet nothing at the same time. It was like a light went on, but another burnt out.
It was an emotional roller coaster that we both needed to get off of.
I will always love you. There is no doubt about that. Even though we have not exchanged words in over a year, there is not a day that goes by where you do not appear in my life. I might not think about you everyday, but you're everywhere I look. You're engraved in me forever because I gave you so much of myself when we were together that I don't ever think we'll be able to tear the pieces of each other out of ourselves. I think we will always be intertwined. And i'm okay with that. It took me a long time to come to terms, but I did and life went on for both of us.
I want to wish you a happy birthday, dear friend, because I am completely and honestly happy for you. I wish you NOTHING but the best and I hope you are able to achieve all the goals you had for yourself and beyond. I hope you never forget who you are and what you mean to all the people who love you. I hope you know that I would give anything to be able to see you be happy. You were at one time one of the most important people in my life, and I will never forget you. You scarred me. You broke me down into a million pieces and then scattered the pieces over the world. You took me and you broke my soul. You broke my heart. You took a knife straight to my heart- time and time again.
You also loved me and lifted me up. You told me I was beautiful at 2am and you whispered that you loved me at 7am when the sun was rising and a new day was starting and you were there everyday. You looked at me with admiration and you listened to every hope and dream and fear I had. You held my hand and gave me strength when I had none left. You kissed the scars and you understood me more than I ever understood myself. You let me be me, and you laughed along with me when I messed up and you taught me things I will never forget.
I love you. I always will. Happy 23rd birthday. I hope it's a great one.
Love,
Brenda
I am now 21, almost 22, and today is your 23rd birthday.
We stopped talking over a year ago. It was a mutual decision that brought forth not only sorrow and grief- but also joy and contentment and peace- something we had not had for a long time.
When we met it was like magic. My life changed. You were like the sun- bright and shiny and warm. You brought laughter and you brought joy and you brought confidence. From the beginning you were so sure of yourself, and I absolutely loved that. I craved that kind of feeling in someone.
What we had was quick and intense. It was brief, but real. It was great, but sad. It was love, but it hurt.
I will never regret what we went through because I honestly believe to this day that we had something real. Life got in the way. You needed to finish school, you needed to focus on it.
There was too much in the way of what we had. Too many disappointments and tears and heartbreak. Too many broken promises and misspoken words and mismatched actions.
We had so much and yet nothing at the same time. It was like a light went on, but another burnt out.
It was an emotional roller coaster that we both needed to get off of.
I will always love you. There is no doubt about that. Even though we have not exchanged words in over a year, there is not a day that goes by where you do not appear in my life. I might not think about you everyday, but you're everywhere I look. You're engraved in me forever because I gave you so much of myself when we were together that I don't ever think we'll be able to tear the pieces of each other out of ourselves. I think we will always be intertwined. And i'm okay with that. It took me a long time to come to terms, but I did and life went on for both of us.
I want to wish you a happy birthday, dear friend, because I am completely and honestly happy for you. I wish you NOTHING but the best and I hope you are able to achieve all the goals you had for yourself and beyond. I hope you never forget who you are and what you mean to all the people who love you. I hope you know that I would give anything to be able to see you be happy. You were at one time one of the most important people in my life, and I will never forget you. You scarred me. You broke me down into a million pieces and then scattered the pieces over the world. You took me and you broke my soul. You broke my heart. You took a knife straight to my heart- time and time again.
You also loved me and lifted me up. You told me I was beautiful at 2am and you whispered that you loved me at 7am when the sun was rising and a new day was starting and you were there everyday. You looked at me with admiration and you listened to every hope and dream and fear I had. You held my hand and gave me strength when I had none left. You kissed the scars and you understood me more than I ever understood myself. You let me be me, and you laughed along with me when I messed up and you taught me things I will never forget.
I love you. I always will. Happy 23rd birthday. I hope it's a great one.
Love,
Brenda
Thursday, April 7, 2016
On working, life, and growing up
I want to talk today about my experience as a non-traditional student and working gal!
I graduated high school in May 2013 (that's 3 years ago!). While most of my fellow graduates went on to college, others got married and had children, and still others went on to move to other towns and pursue their hobbies, I merely stayed in my hometown and hung around. I couldn't afford to travel on a big, lavish trip like some of my friends. For me, the day after graduation was just another normal Saturday. I was pretty tired because I had stayed up pretty late that Friday. It was very normal.
Starting in 8th grade, they drill into your brain that you MUST go to college. It's A NECESSITY. If you don't go to college you are a FAILURE.
I do NOT agree with this.
I believe that it's a personal choice. Sure, there are statistics out there that say college graduates make 78% (I've made this number up) more money than non-graduates. But then again, look at people like college dropout Mark Zuckerburg- he's a billionaire. And yes, there's a one-in-a-gazillion chance that we'll too become billionaires, but if Zuckerburg's experiences tell us ANYTHING it's that if we pursue our true dreams, then we can achieve success by our own measures.
So yes, my take on the issue is: pursue your dreams. If that's college, sure, if it's taking 3 years off to go on a sabbatical in Thailand, go for it. Just be realistic. Because at the end of your life, I highly doubt anyone looks back and wishes they'd gotten a degree instead of starting a family. Or sat hours in a classroom when they could have been seeing the Grand Canyon.
Life is short, for goodness sake just do what you want!
Moving on, I want to talk about my own experiences growing up.
The night shift life was NOT fun. I'd be getting home by 5:30am and in bed by 6am. I'd get up around 1pm or 2pm to use the bathroom, then fall asleep again until around 5pm when I'd eat dinner and shower and start getting ready for work again. I'd leave home by 6:30 pm and get to the factory at 6:45ish. By the time I clocked in and made it to the back to my post, it'd be 7. We had a break around 9:15. Most of my coworkers smoked, so I'd just go back there with them and sit outside just to get out of the hot, paint fumes from the station next to us.
We make our own way.
Soon after high school, I realized I needed to do something with myself. I'd had my break, now I was just laying around the house being unproductive. I knew I didn't want to go to college just yet, so I decided to get a job. I applied at a lot of retail facilities and even thought about doing CNA classes.
Towards the middle of July, the only place who had called me back and offered me a job was an automotive factory. I accepted and started in a few days. I would be working the night shift- 7pm to 4am, sometimes 6am.
It was HORRIBLE.
The place was huge, hot, smelly, loud, and just generally depressing. My job wasn't too bad, just hanging parts on a rack for painting, then sorting the parts once they came back from Paint. It was a boring job, but an easy one for my very first job. I soon learned that this was not something I was interested in. After just a few hours of hanging L and R parts, I was overcome with this intense feeling that I'd rather be doing ANYTHING else other than this. My coworkers were super nice and helpful, the pay was awesome, and I got the weekends off, but the job itself was purely sad.
Lunch was at 11pm. The cafeteria had yummy food and I mostly ate burgers and one day they had breakfast for dinner. It was weird, eating at midnight. My body was super confused. We'd go back to work and had another break around 1am or so. This was my favorite time because we'd go outside and it was usually very cool. The stars were out and the world seemed dead- yet life went on for us in the factory. We were wide awake while everyone else was fast asleep. It was strange.
Work was over at 4am, unless we hadn't reached our goal that night and our team leader decided we needed to stay.
This happened almost every night, so I'd end up getting home by 6:30ish and asleep by 7am.
About a week into my personal hell, a friend of mine told me about a job opening where she worked as a translator. I applied and was offered an interview.
I got the job! So just 2 months after getting out of school for 12 years straight, I was going right back to the school calendar/schedule.
I love my job for the most part. This fall I will be starting my 4th year! It's truly been an amazing job where I have learned many new things and have grown as a person.
So yeah, I didn't follow the path everyone else did. So what?
I'm fine with that.
I graduated high school in May 2013 (that's 3 years ago!). While most of my fellow graduates went on to college, others got married and had children, and still others went on to move to other towns and pursue their hobbies, I merely stayed in my hometown and hung around. I couldn't afford to travel on a big, lavish trip like some of my friends. For me, the day after graduation was just another normal Saturday. I was pretty tired because I had stayed up pretty late that Friday. It was very normal.
Starting in 8th grade, they drill into your brain that you MUST go to college. It's A NECESSITY. If you don't go to college you are a FAILURE.
I do NOT agree with this.
I believe that it's a personal choice. Sure, there are statistics out there that say college graduates make 78% (I've made this number up) more money than non-graduates. But then again, look at people like college dropout Mark Zuckerburg- he's a billionaire. And yes, there's a one-in-a-gazillion chance that we'll too become billionaires, but if Zuckerburg's experiences tell us ANYTHING it's that if we pursue our true dreams, then we can achieve success by our own measures.
So yes, my take on the issue is: pursue your dreams. If that's college, sure, if it's taking 3 years off to go on a sabbatical in Thailand, go for it. Just be realistic. Because at the end of your life, I highly doubt anyone looks back and wishes they'd gotten a degree instead of starting a family. Or sat hours in a classroom when they could have been seeing the Grand Canyon.
Life is short, for goodness sake just do what you want!
Moving on, I want to talk about my own experiences growing up.
The night shift life was NOT fun. I'd be getting home by 5:30am and in bed by 6am. I'd get up around 1pm or 2pm to use the bathroom, then fall asleep again until around 5pm when I'd eat dinner and shower and start getting ready for work again. I'd leave home by 6:30 pm and get to the factory at 6:45ish. By the time I clocked in and made it to the back to my post, it'd be 7. We had a break around 9:15. Most of my coworkers smoked, so I'd just go back there with them and sit outside just to get out of the hot, paint fumes from the station next to us.
We make our own way.
Soon after high school, I realized I needed to do something with myself. I'd had my break, now I was just laying around the house being unproductive. I knew I didn't want to go to college just yet, so I decided to get a job. I applied at a lot of retail facilities and even thought about doing CNA classes.
Towards the middle of July, the only place who had called me back and offered me a job was an automotive factory. I accepted and started in a few days. I would be working the night shift- 7pm to 4am, sometimes 6am.
It was HORRIBLE.
The place was huge, hot, smelly, loud, and just generally depressing. My job wasn't too bad, just hanging parts on a rack for painting, then sorting the parts once they came back from Paint. It was a boring job, but an easy one for my very first job. I soon learned that this was not something I was interested in. After just a few hours of hanging L and R parts, I was overcome with this intense feeling that I'd rather be doing ANYTHING else other than this. My coworkers were super nice and helpful, the pay was awesome, and I got the weekends off, but the job itself was purely sad.
Lunch was at 11pm. The cafeteria had yummy food and I mostly ate burgers and one day they had breakfast for dinner. It was weird, eating at midnight. My body was super confused. We'd go back to work and had another break around 1am or so. This was my favorite time because we'd go outside and it was usually very cool. The stars were out and the world seemed dead- yet life went on for us in the factory. We were wide awake while everyone else was fast asleep. It was strange.
Work was over at 4am, unless we hadn't reached our goal that night and our team leader decided we needed to stay.
This happened almost every night, so I'd end up getting home by 6:30ish and asleep by 7am.
About a week into my personal hell, a friend of mine told me about a job opening where she worked as a translator. I applied and was offered an interview.
I got the job! So just 2 months after getting out of school for 12 years straight, I was going right back to the school calendar/schedule.
I love my job for the most part. This fall I will be starting my 4th year! It's truly been an amazing job where I have learned many new things and have grown as a person.
So yeah, I didn't follow the path everyone else did. So what?
I'm fine with that.
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