"Be a best friend, tell the truth"

whatshouldwecallme:

Story of my life!

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Describe a feeling

Anxiety

     I’ve dealt with it my entire life. It started in elementary school. I hated going to art class on the days that my class was scheduled for art. I’d wake up with a horrible stomachache and cry to my mom that I didn’t want to go to school. I’d make myself sick just thinking about what we’d be doing and if I’d get the project done on time.

     Other times I would sit on the staircase at my house and just look out the window to make sure my brother got to the neighbors house okay. When he did, I’d sit there and wait until he came home so I knew where he was. The idea of not knowing where he was scared the shit out of me. I remember one time when I was in kindergarten and I had to take home blocks and do homework with them. I couldn’t seem to get my parents attention when doing the homework and I just started having a panic attack. I couldn’t breath and my parents finally had to give me medicine to get me to calm down. 

     As I got older I found myself worrying about things that a kid shouldn’t be worried about. I’d get nervous when my dad came home that he would be mad. I’d freak out if my mom didn’t know where my siblings were. One time, I went around the neighborhood to different houses to see if my brother or sister was there because I couldn’t concentrate on anything else if I didn’t know where they were.  Who does that? What child can’t even go outside and play without worrying about everything? Me.

     One instance in particular really stands out. I was in 4^th or 5^th grade and I knew that the day was an art day. I hated art. The teacher was mean and I just sucked at art altogether. I can barely draw a circle let alone a portrait of myself. When I woke up, I had this horrible feeling in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I was crying and telling my mom I didn’t want to go to school because I had art class. She let me stay home but I knew there was something wrong with me. A kid shouldn’t be worrying about going to art class. Who cares? My mom eventually got in contact with the school counselor and set up a meeting for my mom, the counselor, the art teacher, and myself. I pretty much sat there and told the teacher that she scared the life out of me. I told her that I hated going to art because the stress of not knowing if I would get a project done on time made me sick to my stomach. She felt terrible. She never intended for her elementary art class to make someone feel like that. Helpless. After talking with her, my mom also thought it would be a good idea for me to see a psychiatrist. It took a couple different ones for me to find one that I liked talking to. One of the doctors just sat there and played connect four with me for an hour. I don’t even think we talked about anything at all. All we did was play games. Once I found the right doctor and got on medicine, it was like I was a completely different person.  

     I went from being anxious all the time, to actually enjoying my life. Want to know what it feels like? Want to know what I’ve been dealing with for 11 years now? Imagine you forgot you had a big exam and forgot to study. For some people, they would freak out for a second, and then be done. Some people can talk themselves down from a panic attack. Not me. First, my palms start to sweat. Not only that, but also my hands and fingers start to hurt. I get dizzy and breathing becomes hard. I get a stomachache and feel like I’m going to puke. I start thinking of the worst-case scenarios and all of the previous symptoms I stated get worse. I end up not wanting to do anything but lie down and sleep. I become extremely tired and start yawning continuously. Does that sound enjoyable? It sucks. Simple things like going to a new job freak me out. If I didn’t have medicine, I honestly don’t know where I’d be today. My meds calm me down. I’m able to live my life the way a normal 21 year old should be able to. I don’t stress about the little things anymore. My friends know I’m on medication, but some of them think it’s all in my head. Some of them believe that I should just be able to talk myself down and get over it. If only it were that simple. I have a chemical imbalance. My mom is the exact same way. She worries about anything and everything. Being on my medication has just helped me learn to cope with stressful situations. I take deep breaths; talk to myself, or to a friend. I’m the type of person who needs someone to tell her “everything is going to be ok”, or “you’re fine Britt”.  My friends help me a lot. They know what I deal with and they are always around to offer encouragement.

     There have been times when I skip my meds because I forget to. After about the third day without it, I can tell something is different. Little things start to aggravate me. I can feel panic attacks coming and have to pop my pills before it gets to extreme. But other times, I feel fine without the medication. Sometimes I wonder if I would be ok without it, then I start to think of what I was like 11 years ago and the thought makes my stomach hurt. Maybe my medication is just a security blanket for me. It doesn’t hurt my body at all. It’s not like I am a drug addict. I just don’t like to think of my life without my medication. I just don’t ever want to be like that 10 year old me again. 

Describe a memory

     I’m on my way to Chemistry and Marc stops me in the hallway, “Do you remember Adam Litteken.” I nod, remembering him from middle school about 2 years ago. I also remember his sister was my dance teacher a while back as well. I find myself getting a little anxious because I’m not sure what Marc is trying to get at. I start to walk away and he says, “He died last night. He collapsed on the ice.” I’m in shock. A 16-year-old isn’t supposed to just die like that. I look Marc in the eyes and know that he’s a mess. I don’t really know what to say or do so I hug him and make my way to my class. As I’m sitting at my desk, everything else around me seems to disappear. All I can see is Adam’s face. My eyes start to water but I wipe the tears away not wanting to draw attention to myself. I hardly knew the kid and I don’t feel like it’s right for me to be upset. This makes me want to cry even more.

     A couple of days later I’m standing in line at Baue Funeral Home with Ashley. I’m dressed in a jean skirt, not knowing what is appropriate attire for a wake. I look around at all of the people in line and realize I know almost every single person. People who I know have never talked to Adam are here paying their respects, which makes me feel better about attending. As the line begins to move forward I try to recall memories I shared with Adam. Of course, I come up blank. All I can remember is seeing his big goofy smile in the hallways with his buddies. I feel bad that I never actually took the time to get to know him. The line keeps moving and I’m now at the back of the room, the same room that holds Adam and his family. My hands start to sweat and I begin to feel a little dizzy. As I inch my way up towards the casket I see him. I feel weak at the knees but continue to walk towards Adam. As I approach the casket I notice how peaceful he looks. I can tell he has a ton of makeup on which makes me want to cry. The line continues to move and I am now facing Adam’s parents. “I went to middle school with Adam. And Amanda was my dance teacher at Dance Connection.” Both of them smile at me and shake my hand. When I see Amanda I give her a hug and tell her how sorry I am for her loss. I don’t have time to keep talking because the line keeps moving, and before I know it I am outside of the room. I see the hockey team sitting together and recognize my ex-boyfriend. He’s crying and his girlfriend is rubbing his back and I so badly want to walk up to him and tell him I’m sorry, but I feel like it’s not my place. I start to imagine what it would be like if I lost someone close to me and find myself walking faster towards the exit. Once I’m outside I feel like I can breathe again.

      The reason I remember these days so clearly is because it was the first time I’d ever really lost someone to death. I had never attended a wake or funeral home before Adam died. My grandparents are all still alive except for one who died before I was born. Having to go through something like this made me realize life is extremely short. In the scenes I was a high school sophomore. I thought life was pretty good and that I was pretty lucky. I also thought that life was against me at times. I thought a bad break up was the end of the world. I thought that if I couldn’t hang out at my friend’s house after school, I would just die! Clearly, losing Adam was a wake up call. I’m much more thankful for everything I have these days. I live life the way I want to live it and make sure to make my parents and myself proud.

     I believe these memories are extremely accurate. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Adam and his family. Losing someone at such a young age is something that is hard to forget. Did I feel weak at the knees? Yes. I truly didn’t think I could stand much longer when I saw Adam’s face in the casket. I could feel my heart beating much faster and I became dizzy. I had never witnessed an open casket before and seeing a kid, a 16 year old lying in it made me really sad and angry. I was angry at God for taking Adam at such a young age. I was pissed that his family would never see him graduate high school or college. But I think I was mostly mad at myself for not taking the time to get to know Adam when I had the chance. Sure, I remember his sister Amanda used to always talk about him at dance, but that’s about it.

     I don’t think I would change the scene. I like to believe that everything sort of happens for a reason and going through something like I did made me a stronger person. 

Describe a photograph

     The people in this photograph were my family for 2 years of my high school life. There was a National High School Journalism Convention in St. Louis, MO and my adviser decided to plan a bunch of stops for us to take on our way downtown. One of them was to a loft in St. Louis. The neighborhood was creepy, and no one knew what we were doing there but when we all went inside, we realized it was a studio apartment. Not only that, but the owner of the apartment was Suzy Gorman, a professional photographer. She told us all about her career and the many different people she’d had the chance of meeting. We were stunned that we were standing in the loft of a professional photographer who had shot photos of Nelly, 50 Cent and many other famous people.

     Suzy was a very crazy woman and wanted to take some pictures of us. She started placing us in front of this huge white backdrop and cranked up the music. B.O.B’s Airplanes started blasting through the speakers and Suzy just started snapping pictures of us. The place was full of excitement. She decided that she wanted to take a group photo of all the students that were there. 20 of us journalism students who worked on the school newspaper and yearbook felt like celebrities. Many of us were posing all “gangster-like” with sideways peace signs and our arms crossed. Some of the students’ mom’s, mine included, were standing off to the side watching everything happen and laughing along with us. If it weren’t enough to just photograph us, Suzy decided to pull the mom’s in front of the screen and take pictures of them as well. My mom was so embarrassed but tried to play it cool. Watching my mom laugh and goof off made me think that she had to be experiencing what I experienced on a daily basis when I walked into the newspaper room at school. Even though there were times when we wanted to kill each other, the picture shows 20 happy faces of students who would do anything for one another. To many, it’s just a picture of a bunch of kids acting like idiots. However, it’s much more than that. It’s a picture of 20 people who went into school at 6 in the morning and didn’t leave until around 5 at night. It’s a bunch of people who had to make sure every story, page, and photo was aligned just right. The people in the picture all have a special place in my heart. Some of them ended up going to college with me. Some had another couple years of high school to finish. Some even got married. I won’t lie; there are some people in this picture that I haven’t talked to in years. But, when I look at the picture of us acting like goof balls, I’m reminded of the 2 years I spent in room 026. We were like a family. 

You must first love yourself before someone else can.