I listen to NPR pretty regularly on my morning drive to my daughters school and the gym. This week there was a whole series on high school experiences and what were doing as a society to make school as successful as possible. Not just for the students but for the teachers as well. All of this made me think back on my high school experience.
In 2001 I got accepted to one of the best art high schools in the U.S. Students who got excepted often went on to attend exclusive art colleges. Julliard as one of the top acceptance; which at the time was my dream university. While going through my high school interview and getting my art portfolio ready, the country was in mourning and left confused about where to go from there. September 11th was a few weeks before I was to start my freshman year. I loved the school, for the first time I was challenged and with people who loved creating as much as I did. It was a challenging work load and I quickly began to learn I couldn't just skate by. Three months in on winter break I traveled to my cousins house to celebrate my birthday. She was my best friend and confidant in everything. Patricia taught me about God and loved me with every ounce of herself. She died the morning of December 30th while taking a shower. It was three days after my birthday.
The night before we were cuddled up in bed talking into the night. I don't remember much about the day but in snapshots. I remember the feeling of the cold dirt outside while I ran to the neighbors and waited to direct the ambulance from the country road. I remember waiting by the door after they took her body. Sitting by the family dogs waiting for her to come back. I didn't cry, didn't move, I don't even think I spoke. I remember my mom coming and at one point telling me I needed to come home. Looking back I know she was trying to care for me but it was one of the times I yelled no at my mother. I was so angry I'm surprised I didn't get violent. I needed to stay for when she came back. It was a lie, I knew she was alive. She was 19 , how does your heart stop that young? As a child she was diagnosed with lupus but had been doing pretty well. It all didn't make sense. It still doesn't make much sense to me.
That evening my mom crawled into my bed and wrapped her arms around me, pressing into my back. I guess I had been crying so hard you could hear me across the house. I was never the same after that. My best friend Megan sat with me as I got ready for the funeral, kissing and wipping my silent tears away. I don't know if she told me anything but not much helped. My family did what they could but part of me died that day too. I started spiraling and dreamed about killing myself. At least if I was dead I could be with her. I didn't last 6 months into my school and had to drop out my freshman year. Eventually I got counseling but I knew the therapist was crap so I played her like a fiddle. Learning quickly to put on a mask to make others happy and make it look like I was surviving. I didn't want to put my family through more pain and if I killed myself my siblings wouldn't have their big sister. So I learned to lie and I got pretty good at it.
Because I started school a year early as a child I was able to repeat my freshman year without much change to my age group. 2003 I moved to Wyoming to live with an aunt who lived in the country. Diving head first into manual labor, structure and back to the catholic church. Secretly I had grown to hate God or anything to do with him. Because he killed my best friend. But knowing how much my cousin loved Jesus I thought it would probably make her proud if I pressed forward. And what if she saw me yelling at the God she prayed so fervently too? I did everything I was told and got better. Structure helped and as long as I didn't stop, I didn't break apart. Pleasing others became easier, but inside I cut myself off from everyone. Family, friends it didn't matter. I felt alone and would survive alone. Over Christmas break that year my parents moved to Colorado, I would be attending my sophomore year in Colorado Springs. I hated my parents all over again for taking me home and refused to talk to my father most of the drive to Colorado. Again they were loving me and if I stayed there I probably never would have become the woman I am now. I think eventually if I stayed in Wyoming I would have run away; after-all if I was actually alone I wouldn't have to work so hard to please others.
2004 I started Falcon High School as a sophomore. My grades didn't really suffer as I've always been good at school. But instead of my normal straight A's I didn't care. B's and C's were just fine. I didn't want to make friends so I often sat alone and ate lunch alone. Who cares anyway? My mom had started attending a protestant church that spring and I told her she would go to hell for leaving the Roman Catholic church. I hated everything she told me about Jesus and the new structure she made for me. My mom knew I wasn't ok even if I could lie to myself and believe she didn't know me. My mother has always known me ( I'm just like her and I'm so glad she didn't let me go). She would say I needed healing and that Jesus was the only one that could change me. She prayed every day of my sophomore year for me to come to know him as she did. I was so mad. The rule was do well in school or I'd be grounded and on the weekends I had to go to service with her if I wanted to go to mass Sunday evenings. Fine! She's going to hell anyway, I'll listen to these stupid rules.
So I started going to church and listening to the sermons about Jesus. I did what was required at school and started engaging my family at meals. Wouldn't you know it my mom was right! Jesus did save my life. More than just a spiritual reformation, but I cared again. I wanted to heal and grow and get back to creating. I wanted to learn how to love God and others well. I became a regular Jesus Freak, completely head over heels in love with Jesus. I didn't care if that made me weird or gave me no friends. No one could know how dead I felt inside before. How daily; I would think how many of these pills should I take until I don't feel anymore or how deep would I have to cut this vain before I bled out. I still was suffering with depression but it felt like God sat down in the pit with me and wrapped his arms around me and cleaned me up.
During study hall I would sit and read my bible which is how I made my first friend. An extremely cute boy who loved Jesus too. We started a bible study together with other students and I didn't eat alone anymore. I slowly met people and continued to try and be social like I once was. But I was weird, I was the christian girl who wore undershirts in order to stay modest. I didn't date or have sex or party. I didn't engage in sports or advanced classes to challenge myself. (inside I still barely cared-just was no longer wanting to off myself daily) Even the cute christian boy didn't really like me like I liked him. Granted I followed him around like a lost puppy and everyone could probably tell I had a crush. I was heart broken my junior year when he didn't return the love I had for him. Confused why I wasn't wanted as more than a friend. If maybe, even though now I had Jesus , maybe I was still meant to be alone.
I learned a lot those first couple of years, mostly about myself and what I am capable of. I think during this season of life students are just trying to make it through. There is so much change socially, emotionally, sexually and mentally it's a lot for a 16 year old to cope with. But if we can instill in our children confidence in who they are, and provide vulnerability as parents, I think they could be more well rounded and healthy adults. I remember telling my mom during this time how confusing boys are and no one seemed truly interested in who I am. More on if I party, drink, have sex or play sports. It all felt shallow and like no one saw my substance. She told me to keep going and so much changes from the time you're 16 to 25, so hold on and pursue my own growth and health. I think that carried me a long way and is something I will probably advise to my own children. So thanks Mom for always being right and seeing more in me than I ever saw in myself.
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