I want to start off this post saying a few things: one, these are true stories that involved me; two, I did get permission from the people on the other sides of the stories to write about their scars; three, I am not telling these stories to exalt myself in any way but to tell about real-life occurrences and that people can overcome whatever it is they are going though - no matter how severe or dark; and four, if you need help or someone to talk to, please do not think it is a sign of weakness to reach out. People are here to help you. Talk to me. Talk to a friend/parent/teacher/pastor/someone. There's also an organization called To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA) that was started 10 years ago that is geared towards helping people during the hard times in their lives. https://twloha.com/ Love is real. Hope is real. Help is real. You are not alone. You are enough. https://twloha.com/find-help/local-resources/ I was always that naive little girl that gave the benefit of the doubt to the world and negativity bounced off of me. I knew that not everyone saw the world that way, but I didn't understand why. One day, I caught a glimpse, and it changed my perspective forever. Kayla was a year older than me and a good friend of mine since elementary school. We usually were on the same sports team (I mean, out of a middle school of 50 kids and no one allowed to get cut...), sometimes had the same bus, and since there were like 5 girls in her class, we got to have some great conversations at times. I knew her birth father had not been present in her life, and in general she didn't always look happy. But during my 7th grade gym class while the two of us were sitting against a wall, Kayla moved her bands from her wrists. I never put much thought into how many bracelets she wore. It's some people's style - plus is was the mid 2000's so they were totally in style then - she wore numerous on both wrists. She showed me her former cuts and most recent cut that looked like it had to have happened in the past few days and was the ugliest, saddest thing I ever saw to that point in my life. What got me was that when I stopped looking at it and looked at her, I saw her smiling and heard her talking about it as if she was proud of it. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. Another girl in my class knew about what was happening too. We talked about it because we didn't know what to do or who to talk to. Kayla needed help, but we didn't want to talk to the wrong person or have her get mad at us for talking to someone. Eventually, we decided to talk to the highest power we knew at the time: the Principal of our school. We told him it was urgent and we needed to talk to him. After explaining the situation, he eventually decided that the three of us needed to go talk to her - at her house since she had already left school for the day. We showed up at her house and walked downtown to a little coffee shop. I remember I was trying to keep the situation light and since I was missing practice for whatever sport I was doing at the time, I did high-knees down the sidewalk of Broad Street. They thought I was crazy - I was. I don't remember much about our conversation other than the four of us talked over some hot chocolate. And Kayla wasn't mad that we had told someone. Actually, she seemed somewhat relieved. I remember going home later that day and not knowing what else I could do. I couldn't fix Kayla. Had I done everything that I could to help her? What was it like to cut yourself? Didn't it hurt? It almost made me want to see for myself what it was like. But I didn't. After that day, I don't feel like I did much for her. I mean, I was her friend, and I was there if she needed anything, but I wanted to fix her. I wanted to make sure she was okay and that she never slit her writs or any other part of her body ever again. That's when I learned it would be a long process. But I'm happy to announce that Kayla is 7 years sober from self harming herself despite every day fighting to be victorious. For those of you who follow my blog might remember my post "4 Years" from back in January about the passing of my best friend Zoey's Dad, Fred. (If not, yall should go back and read it, but forewarning, you will probably cry...) As you can imagine, the time afterwards took a toll on Zo. There are two routes you can go when you're trying to cope: turn to temporary things that make you feel good or turn to people who care about you and lean on them to help you move onward to a better place. Sometimes you wind up doing one before the other. I won't lie, the tragic event of Fred's death was hard for me too and definitely scarred me for life. And it was hard sometimes when I had to figure out how to cope myself and then also be there for Zo. But obviously she was a priority between her coping and mine. It pains me greatly to say that Zo could have coped better. But let's be real for a minute: how would you have coped if your Father had been murdered by a man you thought you could trust? I don't know that if it had happened to me that I would be able to cope so "gracefully" if you will. So, although I don't agree with her coping mechanisms during that time, I also cannot say that I blame her for choosing that route. Specifics aren't necessary, but there were so many days that our best friend Britt and I would call each other and try to wrap our minds around what else we could do for Zo. She knew all the right answers to tell us. She knew what to keep from us. Britt saw her more than me because they went to the same high school at that time, but she still didn't know what else she could do for her. If we're being real, which is what I try to do in my blog and in life, there were many days that I wanted to give up. She was partially showing us her scars but not really letting us in to help her. I really wanted to fix the situation. I wanted to fix her. But literally I could do absolutely nothing. Except one thing: pray. I'm pretty sure I prayed every doggone day. Trying to get some help; trying to find answers. Every time I wanted to give up because it would be easier to not be her friend anymore than to go through the struggle of trying to be there for her when she didn't want me to be. But every time I wanted to leave, I stayed. I stayed because she was my best friend regardless of what she was going through. I stayed because she didn't leave me when my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I stayed because we had been friends since Mrs. Frederick's Kindergarten class. I stayed because I love her. It seemed like a road that would never end. But light started to come through. I don't know that a human ever fully heals from something like that, but you get better. You don't forget, but you get better. I'm happy to report that Zoey is in a much better place today than she was 4 years ago. The third story I want to tell yous about is my best friend Kaite. A little backstory for her: we met our freshman year of college at a Christian small group (which turned into what is now Renown, the organization I am President of), and immediately had an interesting connection. Kaite played soccer for Stetson University, a D1 school for the sport. The short story is she got a concussion or two, and eventually had to leave school. She is still suffering from from them and basically has brain damage; her condition is called Post Concussion Syndrome or PCS. Because of this, she can never play soccer again nor have a normal life. For the past two years she has had headaches that pin a body horizontally. She deals with depression, lack of self esteem and self worth, and sometimes even suicidal thoughts. People wonder why she deals with it and she responded, "Try having your whole entire life stripped away from you & the things that you loved most. The things that you felt so much passion for. The things you put so much time & effort into. The things that you couldn't ever imagine your life without. Try having it all stripped away within a matter of seconds & tell me how you wouldn't feel an overwhelming sense of sadness." I met Kaite once when she did not have a concussion, and I don't know what God was thinking when He had us meet but I'm sure glad He did. I honestly do not know what I would do without her in my life. She's helped me with some of my scars, and I've helped her with hers. On top of dealing with this life-defining injury and the mental illnesses that came and still come with it, she dealt with a break-up. Her long-distance boyfriend of over a year called it quits one day. They had talked about their future together. They had discussed marriage and even went ring shopping. Who just calls it quits because he "couldn't do it anymore"? (Idiots do.) It took Kaite months to accept what happened. There were mornings that I would wake up to my phone ringing and Kaite crying on the other end. Sometimes the best thing you can do is just let someone cry over the phone if you can't be there in person. Lord knows I was ready to drive 14 hours down and back to be there less than 24 hours if I had to. For those of you who have dealt with break-ups that beat you to your core know what its like to be in love with someone and for them to tell you they don't love you anymore. For them to break up with you one day and sleep with another girl the next. For you to realize the "man" you thought was your future was actually a boy in a pleasant costume. Kaite is in a life-long struggle where some days are better than others. She has found a new outlet to channel that and a new love: Photography. And she's really good at it. If you want to contact her or see her work, feel free to check out her website: kaitelandry.com. Life hurts sometimes and can leave scars. But the thing about scars is that they don't define you rather they help make up who you become. Don't try to hide your scars because there are people out there who care about you and want you to succeed in life without anything holding you back. Here's an anonymous quote that I really like: Maybe life isn't about avoiding the bruises. Maybe it's about collecting the scars to prove you showed up for it. You are here for an important reason.
For This Time, Cambria
1 Comment
Christina
4/23/2016 03:42:21 am
Wow. Those powerful words were very encouraging. It helps to realize that I am not the only one who has similar scars. Thank you for sharing.
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AuthorI'm a die-hard Sixers and Eagles phan, a writer, a teacher, and a dreamer. Archives
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