Monthly Archives: October 2016

If you work all day and you never get paid

(The Mom Song—Go Fish)

I should be either writing a paper or practicing for one of my three presentations this week or doing some other pharmacy related activity. Instead, I am taking a break…(yes, I did just take a four hour break like 15 minutes ago…but my brain is tired). Besides, most of that break still required using my brain, because I am still working hard on learning how to be in a group of people, so everything I do and say is still very calculated. There are things that I am getting better at, but for the most part I am working really hard to pull myself just high enough for people to not wonder why that girl is so awkward.

I was thinking recently that I now understand why mostly the transfers at school all form a little clique and don’t really usually have any interest in mingling with the traditional students. See, it is all about being new at or near the same time. Here there are quite a few people who are here for only a month-ish at a time and a few of them started just a couple weeks before I did. Because they intimately knew what being new felt like recently enough to remember, they quickly invited me to more events than I could possibly ever attend. They became almost instantly close friends. The people who are here long-term I know and they are fine people, but I am not nearly as close to them as I am to all the new people (who are soon to disappear). The one I met first already left and I miss her. It is hard being a student and constantly moving and meeting new people just to leave them behind a few weeks later. I love my new friends. The other new people are leaving this week, but I am making some new friends that are staying here. I wish I could stay here like forever. I feel accepted here and I don’t have to be scared of who might be planning something to hurt me next. I love that I have so many chances to be proud of myself when the cafeteria serves something scary and I get at least a few bites in. I ate half a hot dog on a different kind of bun than I am used to a few days ago. I want so badly to just get to keep the friends that I make five weeks at a time.

Although staying could be a problem considering the less than ideal washer and dryer situation (no cold water setting, dryer takes 4 hours to get at least mostly dry, they seem to beat up the clothes pretty good)…Also, I have reached the point where it is hard to keep making and maintaining friendships, because I know at this point that I am leaving really soon and will have to leave behind the friends I make. Friendship is hard, but girl was not made to be alone. There are so many amazing people that I have met here. And some of them have kids at really awesome ages. (Yep, I do fit in better with the 0 to 3 crowd…especially the younger side of that group, but as my social skills have grown, I am a lot better at fitting in with older kids and even people my own age—the people my own age thing has always been the very hardest part for me).

I have learned how to be the stereotypical college student…no one wanted to come over and have dinner with me and I didn’t want to make a scary food and be obligated to eat it all myself and couldn’t think of anything normal-ish I actually wanted to eat, so I popped a bag of popcorn and ate peanut butter with a spoon directly out of the jar. It was delicious.

If I told you my story you would hear life

(My story–Big daddy weave)

Two stories from this weekend:

Story 1: You know, I never expected the service part of going to church to ever be terrifying. I really like how friendly everyone is at the church, so I don’t intend to leave over it, but that was not a comfortable experience.

So everything was going okay…awkward pre-service community time that is honestly a hard part of church for me even at my home churches which is a piece of why I prefer to serve at every service at my home churches…then worship…you know, all the usual pieces of going to church…

Until they stop worship and ask people to come up if they want to heal people or teach people or just know Jesus more. Although, I mean, I would endorse those goals, something held me back from going up even though seriously 90% of the church was up there. It was a little frustrating at first because it felt like anxiety coming back, but as I saw what was going on up there, I realized it was really God protecting me.

There were a couple of people up there touching everyone’s faces. It wasn’t like a quick touch, but like a multiple minute thing. I have no problem with physical touch, and I am even okay with people touching my hair, but my face has a personal bubble. Maybe it is just me, but there are very few situations in which it would feel okay for someone to touch my face. It isn’t even a germ issue—just a personal space issue.

And it became terrifying when they stopped to announce what they were doing and it looked like they were going to do it to everyone instead of just the people up front. Luckily that was not the case and I escaped unharmed, but for a while I was questioning whether this was some kind of cult and if it would be safe to come back again next week.

If it weren’t for how friendly they were, I would be so outta there, but since they won my heart first, I am willing to overlook a really strange occurrence and just make sure I assert my needs if anyone tries to invade my personal bubble.

 

Story 2: I had an experience of feeling anger about someone’s depiction of OCD today. There is one particular blogger who I know will rile me up (because she has never had OCD and is not any kind of mental health professional yet writes as if she knows everything about it and how to appropriately treat it, but very much does not) so I don’t read that one, but this was just some random person on The Mighty and seemed like it’d be good—looked like a blog on building community to bash stigma…all was well and good until I got to the last paragraph where the author states his/her child climbed a tree, and doing that cured him. Really, I guess it was jealousy—perhaps it worked for her kid, but I doubt it is a solution that will cure many (if any) other people. If only it were that easy. I was angry that she would spread the concept that freedom is so easy when for me, it wasn’t so easy…so in other words, I was basically a hypocrite because I claim that I think everyone’s story matters….except apparently the ones that are too easy. Fail.

Live and learn?

I try to be good enough

(Jason Gray—Savior Please)

Sometimes I am really proud of myself. On Tuesday when I tried to explain something as me being a picky eater, someone said they knew I wasn’t a picky eater because they’d seen me eat. To me, that was the hugest compliment she could have given me!! I have been working really hard to earn that comment, and hearing it made me realize something about myself I hadn’t realized before.

I have always been an exceedingly picky eater (yep, I have even refused to eat mac and cheese because it was the wrong brand…my mom was so frustrated at that one, because my favorite food was the kind in the red box…except she was at a different store and she looked all over for the kind in the red box and didn’t realize it was a different brand that also came in a red box…it didn’t taste the same and I didn’t eat it). I was the one who stopped eating lunch in the school cafeteria because once they took out the free vegetables, I was paying the exorbitant school lunch price for a pile of food, of which I probably was only going to eat the one noodle at the edge of the bowl that didn’t have gunk on it. The lunches were already excessively overpriced to make up for the people on free lunch, and were even more overpriced once you considered how much of it I would eat. I tried for a while only buying school lunch on days the menu sounded good, but then they would have last minute menu changes and I’d be stuck, I liked chicken strips if they weren’t soggy, and I’d usually at least try to eat chicken nuggets, but I couldn’t even make myself try chicken giggles after the first time they were served, and to the school, substituting chicken giggles for chicken strips was one of the most benign changes they ever made. Moderately unrelated, but I really wish I could have documented a fake milk allergy, because a documented milk allergy earned you an apple or grape juice for free every day and I LOVE juice, but never got permission to buy it a la carte…especially since I wasn’t eating the other stuff I was paying for anyway…

So anyway, that paragraph got a little off topic, but the point is, it never really bothered me to be a picky eater until partway through college. Sure, I recognized life would be easier if I ate a wider variety of foods, but it never was a big deal to me or anyone else. It wasn’t anything I felt was at all important to change. It wasn’t at all tied in to my self worth. I ate what I ate, and that was the way things were.

Then things changed when someone used the fact that I was a picky eater to support her made up argument that there was something wrong with me. At first I fought it, but then eventually it wormed it’s way into my heart as something that made me not good enough and something that would keep people from liking me and something that made me less than. Because I am constantly meeting new people this year and because of my unstable living situation, it became especially important to me to learn how to be good enough and eat what everyone else eats. I wanted people to like me.

Some people think of picky eating as a kid thing, and the fact that I already LOOK like a child made it all the more important to me to be able to eat less like a child…a difficult proposition when goldfish, animal crackers, and cheerios are favorite snacks and I’m still constantly in possession of snacks because food security keeps my anxiety from returning. As I have grown older, not a lot has changed with my picky eating. Sure, I learned to tolerate things that are hard for me instead of whining about icky smells and crying about having to try things I didn’t like (useful skills since today the person sitting next to me decided to eat lunch in front of her computer and it smelled REALLY strongly of salad dressing and I wanted to put my nose and mouth inside my shirt and run away). Unfortunately, what I actually like hasn’t really expanded, so yeah, I’ll try a slightly larger number of things, but I won’t like it.

I think of food as on a continuum. One side is foods I like, then foods that are “meh.” I don’t particularly like them, but I don’t dislike them. Continuing down the continuum you reach foods I do not like and then at the opposite end, Not Food. Things like ketchup fall into that category of not food. Asking me to eat a fry with ketchup on it is equivalent to asking me to eat a fry with conditioner. Neither belongs on my food or my fingers or anything, but if I am starving I will attempt to find a way to wash off the not food to get to the food underneath.

I have been working really hard on this and doing a really good job on increasing my ability to eat. I am proud of myself for the hard work even though I have still felt like I wasn’t good enough. A couple days ago, the lunch served to me was grilled cheese and tomato soup. Luckily the soup didn’t look like the picture on the can of Campbells tomato soup, so while it was right on the border of not food, I was willing to put it in my mouth and try it. Grilled cheese also falls firmly into the category of scary foods I do not like. I wanted so badly to be able to just eat and not just throw perfectly good food away, so I incentivized eating. I took the container of emergency skittles out of my bag and for every reasonably sized bite of grilled cheese in my mouth, I got a skittle, and for every spoonful of soup I got a skittle. I got through the entire sandwich and half of the soup that way…but I couldn’t make myself eat the tomato chunks in the soup, and eventually I just couldn’t force any more soup in my mouth or else I was going to cry which would be really weird in the break room in front of the people who work at this rotation site, so I threw the rest away. Today’s lunch was more successful. I could peel the vegetables off of the cheese and pull the cheese off of the chicken to get most of the nutrition in. I used skittles to get some of the bread in, but the bread tasted like butter and there wasn’t really any way to eliminate that taste, and after a couple bites I just couldn’t do it, so I gave up and had cake instead—hey, it’s really just bread with a little extra sugar in it :).

Someone suggested that maybe the issue is texture. At first that made a lot of sense—a lot of the things that really bother me are similar textures (salad dressing, ketchup, mayo, mustard, barbecue sauce), but some of the things I really like are the same textures (applesauce, pudding). Texture also doesn’t fit into the picture because I like applesauce watered down a little with water or juice, but applesauce with mandarin orange juice in it made me cringe. Similarly, I love clementines, but the actual pieces of mandarin orange were still gag worthy a month or so ago when I attempted them. I can’t figure out anything that ties together the things I don’t like. Someone suggested sour tastes, but I LOVE sour patch kids and lemon.

It is really frustrating that I work so hard and make what seems like so little progress, but I am learning that people liking me isn’t for what I do and don’t eat. Having to re-learn that is one of the things that makes me really wish I had been able to escape sooner before the abuse sunk in so deep…and I ‘spose I am also learning that scary foods won’t kill me. I am strong.

It would be helpful, though, if alcoholic beverages did not fall into the category of things that smell really disgusting to me. It’s another thing I am learning to tolerate, but the older I get, the more often I am exposed to people drinking alcohol in situations in which it is inappropriate to put my hands over my nose and mouth to protect myself. Just sayin’

Totally unrelated like for reals, but my intuition can be scary accurate at times…after just a couple days with this one person who really gets on my nerves, I thought maybe she was on the autism spectrum…and then I found out she actually was…glad to know it isn’t just me thinking that…doesn’t change how much she gets on my nerves and how hard it is to hold my tongue when she is mouthing off and telling everyone around how wrong I am when I know I am 100% correct, but I suppose it is good to know that it isn’t necessarily that she is trying to be hurtful. She just isn’t very good at her job and probably feels threatened by having someone around who does know what is going on. I am learning to keep my mouth shut and nod and say mhmm and keep my frustration bottled up inside. Lol…did you know that apparently according to her even if your kid is throwing up you should be sending them to school because they aren’t supposed to miss school for that? Did you also know that apparently the endocrine society doesn’t know anything about treating vitamin D deficiency? Oh, and apparently 10.7 – 4 is not less than 7…who knew?! I am learning so much!! (True statement, I am learning how to hold my tongue. In fact, I was pretty impressed that my judgement told me in time that I shouldn’t make a joke that the very literal person sitting next to me would interpret as an insult…). Oh, but on the positive side, it is awesome to not be the last to get a joke or pop culture reference!! Yep, I definitely did laugh at something I recognized as a sex joke and then listened to her whine that we all needed to slow down so she could understand the joke. (We’re going to ignore the fact that it isn’t that appropriate to laugh at sex jokes, and revel in the fact that I got it and she didn’t–see, I am not hopeless…and maybe my lunchroom lessons by a certain person who made it his job to “help” me learn that kind of crap were moderately useful).

Also completely unrelated, but I am really glad I use wordpress hosting, because I have exactly zero access to blogspot hosted blogs on the internet here unless I take a walk to the park to get on some normal wifi. I can access SOME wordpress hosted blogs, and although my own blog is not one of them, I can access my wordpress dashboard to be able to check stats and create posts which I wouldn’t be able to do with blogspot. The wifi here is a bit frustrating. Usually facebook has absolutely no pictures, but once in a while the pictures come through. Pinterest, twitter, and Instagram are completely un-accessable without a walk to the park. I do still try to get on every day just in case I get lucky, but so far I haven’t (gotten lucky that is). I miss all the blogspot blogs that I was following, and I miss the possibility of one of my favorite pasttimes—soft research on blogspot.

 

Who I am is moving on

(Josh Wilson—No More)

I know exactly what I want to say, but not how to say it…which if you read the rest of this post you will understand why that is a very common experience for me…lol, intro sentence introducing the topic…

I read this article today and I think you should too. This is eerily similar to my story and makes me think maybe the SM (selective mutism) I saw on a differential for me in my records wasn’t too far off. Sometimes I knew exactly what to say, but couldn’t make words. Sometimes even now, writing someone a “quick” email can take hours of deliberation and maybe a couple days to psych myself up to hit send (thankfully not constantly—mostly just when I am stressed out for other reasons). Sometimes even the nonverbal communication arena was far outside my abilities. If you didn’t know me then, I do want to put out a quick disclaimer that I know people who primarily saw me in silence wondered how I managed to make it through life, but it definitely wasn’t overly unpleasant. When you live that way you quickly learn how to survive and even thrive with minimal communication. I also was very lucky that the classroom was one of my most comfortable settings so even before I was much of a talker, I never had too much trouble with academics (aside from speech class…I have passed most speech classes with insane amounts of efforts to at least pass the speeches combined with doing anything possible for extra credit to boost my grade into the safe zone…let’s just say that most people probably don’t practice their speech until it is good enough record it on an mp3 player and listen to it on repeat during nearly all waking hours for the month prior to the speech, but that is how I passed my college speech class because there weren’t extra credit opportunities). Now I am a talker and it is thrilling to be able to communicate a lot more readily. If I am being honest, I still have a lot of roadblocks in my way. Some of them were not placed by my brain, but I would be lying if I said that I am 100% extravert 100% of the time. I do still sometimes fall into the role of observer. I do still sometimes watch from the outside wishing I were on the inside. A lot more texts get written than get sent. A lot more words remain thoughts than are shared.

This is going to sound like totally off topic, but someone remarked recently that younger people have to be able to learn a lot faster than older people have ever had to learn. Every day new things are discovered about the world. Once we are older, we mostly just need to keep abreast of these new developments, because we have learned the baseline knowledge already. Younger people, on the other hand, are still working on the basics while all these new things continue to be discovered and there is infinitely more in that baseline than there ever was for us because it now includes all the things that have been discovered daily up to that point, yet education is still supposed to be completed in the same or a similar amount of time.

So to bring it back to clearly on topic, I thought about that and realized it is kind of where I am with communication skills and social skills. I have always worked hard to learn these skills, but in middle school it started being obvious to me that there must be some secret to these skills that I was missing and I was falling behind. Retrospectively, I think that secret was the lack of social anxiety. (I could be wrong—maybe there was another secret and because I didn’t know the secret and didn’t have good skills the anxiety developed secondarily—I didn’t really experience it as anxiety until probably late high school because I was an avid avoider and mostly didn’t have to face the situations I was bad at…it really only manifested as frustration with myself until late high school). Anyway, my peers still learn more about how to effectively communicate daily, and I am behind and having to try to catch up because I am missing a lot of the basics they mastered over a decade ago. It is really hard sometimes, especially because as my social skills grow, so too does my awareness of how far I still have left to go, but thinking about that statement about younger people needing to learn more rapidly, it makes me really proud of myself. I have worked really hard to be where I am today. While I may not be at the top of the heap socially, people who are just meeting me generally no longer have any reason to think there was ever a time I wasn’t able to communicate on a reasonable level. I certainly have plenty of room for improvement, but the difference between my peers and I is no longer so wide that I am discounted before I am ever given a chance. That is probably the thing that bothered me the most when I wasn’t a good talker. I hated being told what I couldn’t do or being excluded to my face. It might have been harder for me, but I wanted a chance to try. I may have needed a little adaptation or a little flexibility in how “good” the verbal skills had to be, but I wanted to be included. Inclusivity has always been really important to me, and I think it is very much because of how often I was excluded either unintentionally by people not realizing I wanted to be involved or not knowing how to include me, or intentionally when people didn’t want me or assumed I couldn’t do it anyway. I am sure some of that was a well-intentioned attempt to not place me in situations in which I was bound to fail or otherwise was certainly not intended to hurt or limit me at all, but the result was that I learned how it feels to be on the outside and developed a passion for preventing others from being left out.

I refuse to be ashamed of where I came from, because I worked hard to get to where I was even if it wasn’t quite good enough, but I am so proud of where I am now. I certainly wish I was better than I am now, but I also know I have worked hard to get where I am, and that is something to be celebrated. I refuse to mourn where I am not when where I am was such an accomplishment. This concept seems hard for some people to grasp, and I have likened it to the learning of a child, but another example would be that while the straight-A student might be devastated with a lower grade and not be that proud of that grade or even their other grades because that one grade is not so good, the straight-C-with-occasional-D’s student is thrilled to be graduating and celebrates his or her accomplishment with pride. It is all about perspective. If you had told me a few years ago that today I would be asked to give a presentation about two minutes prior to the presentation and I would be able to confidently say that the presentation went pretty well, I would have told you that was a lie. Actually, no I wouldn’t, because I would be busy laughing my head off. Or, no, I probably wouldn’t, because I would be so terrified I would just stare at you blankly and try really hard to smile politely. That is just something that would very likely not be possible at that point, and I don’t think I really believed the light at the end of the tunnel was that close…I actually don’t think I realized at that point that even an AWESOME communicator could even do that. It was just so far out my realm of reality and possibility to even be considered as an option. But yeah, that is a true story. My preceptor told me her idea of something for my to present to the pharmacists. I agreed to do it and asked when this presentation was going to occur and the answer was in about two minutes. I quickly brainstormed what I was going to say, then I presented it with no practice run, and no preparation aside from the previous two minutes. I really did rock it! I was so proud of myself. I can’t say I would ever volunteer to spontaneously give a presentation, but it was incredible to realize that I could do it, and it was probably really good for me to have another opportunity to practice presentation skills. In reality, not having the topic and details in advance or even knowing it was going to happen more than two minutes before it did happen meant that I didn’t spend hours upon hours working on what I *should* say or obsessing over whether it would be good enough. It saved me tons of practice time and re-working time. It is definitely a little more nerve-wracking to go into a presentation so blatantly unprepared, but at the same time knowing that my preceptor anyway knew that this was impromptu (even if I’m not sure anyone else did) greatly decreased the stress level as I knew that with the minimal guidance on what was expected and the minimal prep time that there was a definite limit of what could be realistically expected of me. I think I actually might like the idea of an impromptu presentation, because it evens the playing field a bit, because I doubt that there are more than a handful of people who would choose to do a presentation without first practicing, so it is taking anyone out of his or her comfort zone. Side note that I was so far behind on communication skills in high school that even impromptu speeches couldn’t bring me all the way up to where everyone else was—even though I did practice in whatever ways I could prior to days I knew there might be impromptu speeches. God has done some pretty incredible things in my life.

Stones inside your hand might be small

(Giants Fall–Francesca Battistelli)

Y’all, my brain is spinning with the list of things I need to do in the next day/week or so…so it seemed like a good time to take a break…before I actually started anything…umm…someone (me) didn’t think this through very well…

So this is going to be a series of short thoughts about a variety of things so that I don’t spend too long writing on any one thing since I don’t have time for that.

Sometimes in hindsight I can recognize that I didn’t make the best choice. A few days ago, I saw a bag of capsules in the parking lot as I walked to my car. I was in a hurry. I pretended I didn’t see them and kept walking. They were in an unlabeled Ziploc bag. They were pretty non-descript. I didn’t know to whom I would bring them. I was afraid if I picked them up they might be an illicit substance and then it would be in my possession and I would be in trouble. I walked away. In retrospect, I should have brought someone’s attention to it. Someone might have been looking for them and by the time they found them perhaps they had already been destroyed by being run over. Or maybe they were illicit but if I’d brought attention to it I could have prevented someone from obtaining illicit substances. I know that ignoring it is almost definitely the wrong choice.

I think I have now seen like everything. A couple days ago I saw a man walking along the sidewalk pushing a stroller. The stroller contained a…watermelon. Strapped into the 5-point harness as if it were a child. I did a double-take and then laughed my head off (jk…I did laugh, but my head remained firmly attached to my neck).

I was sad on Tuesday when I found out that there was no Cru, but it ended up not being a bad night. I didn’t do the homework I was planning on doing, but I did spend some time with someone who needed a friend to hang out with, and I wasn’t up nearly as late as I would have been had I stayed for Cru. Also I learned what mochi (sp?) is, and it is good.

Also today I had a lot of adventures. First this morning I stopped at a gas station and it took forever to figure out how to get out of the parking lot when I was done. I don’t think I have ever seen a parking lot with so many one way signs. Then about a block down the road I saw another gas station that would have been easier to get in and out of and was 10 cents less per gallon. Fail. Well, kinda, because I also really did need to stop ASAP because I was getting really low and didn’t want to be a hypermiling jerk. Then on the way to school it was a Very Good Thing that I got to leave way earlier than I asked. Because in about half an hour or so I went about a mile on the freeway. I could have missed my turn and taken a different road and gotten to school in half the time or I could have walked and gotten down the road faster. So that was unfortunate and frustrating. But on the positive side, I did arrive at school on time.

Also, I found out today I am presenting tomorrow, so that should be interesting with exactly zero preparation so far.

I love life. I love rotations. I love me, and I love you 🙂

And the last words you’ll hear tonight will be ‘I love you.’ Love takes us all of a lifetime to tell

(For he grants sleep to those he loves—Michael Card)

(written at church as an excuse to stay where I feel loved a little longer…posted at home after using the drive time to make sure I wasn’t posting something that was going to get me into trouble later)

I’m not as think as you dumb I am…lol

So last night I wrote on my to do list, “directions.” This morning I saw that and was like no problem, I totally know where I am going, I probably just was super tired and needed to remind myself to bring my directions notebook to my car in case I need it.

Lol, story of my life, as it turns out, I remembered why that was on my list about the same time that I noticed the “road closed” sign. Oh no…so yeah…and that is how I got lost…and how I ended up running down the sidewalks as I realized that I had parked a mile away from where I was currently sitting and could not apparate into the drivers seat…

Luckily, I miscalculated how long it took to get to church from where I was parked, and it worked out. All is well that ends well.

Except, now I should leave church, but leaving is hard because I have friends Tuesday and Thursday and Saturday, but Sunday and Monday and Wednesday and Friday I am alone. I know that changes starting tomorrow, but that is more stressful than a relief of stress, because I tried really hard to be an adventurous eater, but the most adventurous I got was mandarin oranges. And even that was still a challenge as of last week when I was eating them not to cringe each time one went in my mouth.

And then in a week I will be driving to another state where there aren’t any days that I have friends.

I get to have a million friends here at church, and I never want to leave, because I go home to no friends.

In the past, I was still going home alone but it was a needed break after having friend time all day 6 days of the week and I was totally ready to go home and have Sunday all to myself. But then I became a big girl who doesn’t spend all her time at school anymore. I don’t like the real world. Actually, I probably do like the real world—I don’t like moving every five weeks and therefore not having friends at the place I spend most of my time. I miss going to work in the morning and having a million friends there and stuff.

Finally, two quotes that have been sitting on my list of ideas for a while.

“It’s like being on the 100th floor of a building with only stairs and needing to sign an important document. The problem is, all the pens are on the first floor. You know you need a pen, and you know how to use one, but when you’re up at the top, it’s difficult for you the access the pen and therefore, the skill of using it.”

I love this quote. I can’t remember where I found it or to what it was originally referring. I love the analogy. It is so true that sometimes I have the skills and knowledge but not the ability to use them. There are a lot of directions I could go with this. I think the biggest one that I run into on an unfortunately somewhat regular basis is in the arena of communication. Because I was a little late to the game in learning these things, a lot of the time I am completely at a loss as to how to handle things that are in that arena. I studied really hard on the mechanistics of conversation, but studying for one, didn’t tell me the details that I really needed, and two, flies out the window when I am faced with a situation that feels over my head, because I can’t really take five minutes working on my “correct response” to a friend’s wave or conversational comment. A lot of the time once the instance of needing to respond right now is over, I know exactly what the right thing to do would have been, but in the moment I was on the 100th floor, and the pen was on the first floor. I didn’t know how to get myself there.

“Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”

This quote was channeled from Kati Morton youtube’s best online therapist and just a really awesome and caring person whom I would love to meet in person some day…not in the context of therapy, but she is actually awesome enough that I could probably feel safe in therapy with her without a warm up period to make sure she wasn’t another one out to hurt me. She got the quote from Mark Suster who has adult ADHD. And probably child ADHD he just didn’t know about it yet.

Oh yeah. I hate the term damaged people. I just think it sounds kind of derogatory. Damaged things get discounted because they aren’t worth as much—no one will pay full price for damaged goods. The pain in my life doesn’t make me worth any less than anyone else. Being hurt deeply by someone doesn’t mean that I deserved it or was less than in any way. Fighting my way out of severe OCD, and social anxiety that bordered on selective mutism means that I do some things a little differently in life, but different isn’t wrong. Experiencing how people responded to the girl who was often on the sidelines but not often by choice gave me a lot of opportunity to learn how to do the same for others. I might not reach everyone, but I can reach someone. Like that starfish story, I might not be able to make a difference for each of the millions of people who need someone, each one counts. “It made a difference for that one.”

So anyway, the point is, at first I looked at that and was like, what?! As I thought about it, it is true. I totally do know that I can survive. I can’t be destroyed by hurtful words and actions or other adversity because I know I have made it through some pretty tough stuff (things way worse than anxiety disorders). I know I can survive. Bravery isn’t not being scared, it is doing it, scared. Because I know I can, I have developed tenacity and resilience. I still see more trees than forests, but I know when I see the tree that a forest is out there. Lol, speaking of forests and trees, I can recognize first that my rows of straightened chairs have a little zig and zag in them, but I can also recognize that when I walk into church I absolutely do not notice the chairs that aren’t quite straight until I see someone straightening them, because I don’t come to church for the chairs, I come to church for the people and to worship my wonderful Father. Doesn’t mean the church should look like a tornado came through, because in the eyes of a visitor that would probably be super confusing, but also doesn’t mean that I am a failure of a volunteer because I can’t make the chairs look perfect like everyone else does.