tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16169752604016688292024-02-18T19:14:06.216-08:00In WonderlandBlogging about whatever I damn well please because I can.Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-17317610055279699562021-03-27T21:00:00.002-07:002021-03-27T23:16:58.941-07:0029.<p>The hardest part about living longer than you've anticipated is that <i>you didn't fucking plan for this. </i>You didn't save money or plan for a career, you just did what you needed to do to get to the next day and that was that. I've been so used to living this way that it's fucked me over in so many ways because </p><p><b>I'm still. fucking. here.</b><br /><br />Some folx may say "<i>But Allee, it's a GOOD thing you're still alive. You've made it this far. You should be so proud of yourself..." </i>which is true, but that doesn't mean I can wrap my head around this shit. </p><p>So here I am, staring 29 in the face... Endlessly trying to convince myself that folx do genuinely care about me ...</p><p>... and that I am not a burden ...</p><p>... and that checking out early is not an option. </p><p>29. Fuck. I never thought I'd make it here. I never thought I'd make it to 18, if we are being honest. <i>This must be a fluke, right? </i></p><p>Somehow I've been able to make a deal with the devil in exchange for immortality <i>(at least until I am proven mortal) </i>so I guess it's about time I get my shit together.</p><p>Maybe 29 will be better than 28. </p><p><i>At least, that's what I'm holding out hope for...</i></p>Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-33750622482211465842020-02-06T19:54:00.000-08:002020-02-06T19:54:09.836-08:00Holding My Breath I feel like I’ve been holding my breath<br />
Watching, waiting for something. Anything.<br />
Like I am under water, needing to come up for air<br />
But I can never make it to the surface.<br />
So I wait for the moment when I can breathe again.<br />
I turn the water<br />
Hot, hotter, hotter<br />
Until I can’t take it anymore<br />
So I can finally feel something<br />
And take another breath.<br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-54969797597970140432019-03-22T21:22:00.001-07:002019-03-22T21:22:18.295-07:0027 Candles <div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I never really thought I’d ever make it to 27. There’s no real reason why; it just never felt tangible. I thought for sure something was going to happen to me or that I was going to take my life, but here I am. I turn 27 in a few days and I am in utter disbelief. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Birthdays have never been amazing for me (and neither have holidays), despite the effort of my parents trying their hardest. I guess I’ve just never been truly happy. And that sounds sad to say because I should have been a happy kid. But I wasn’t. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Regardless, here I am... on the brink of 27. I have some of the greatest people in my life. I have people who challenge me daily and support me through my tough times. I have students that I loved dearly, even when they drive me nuts. And I have my wife. The person who I never thought I’d find, who makes me so happy, even through the depression. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These last 26 years have been rough, and I’m sure year 27 will be too, but with my friends and my wife by my side, I’m sure I’ll make it through. </span></div>
Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-39007097105386279752019-01-31T17:06:00.001-08:002019-01-31T17:06:26.014-08:00DrowningIt feels like every time I sit down to blog something, I'm feeling fairly shitty and my mental health has spiraled downward. So here I am again... blogging as I sit in bed at 8pm on a Thursday night.<br />
<br />
My life is pretty routine these days: I wake up, go to work, come home, and then sleep. There's not much else in between because I'm too damn exhausted to do anything else. And that stems from my awful mental health that I can never seem to get right.<br />
<br />
Every time I feel like I am on track, climbing to the top of the hill, something hits me and a plummet downward until I can't see anything above me. It feels like I'm drowning and I can't pull myself out of the water. And then I'm stuck there flailing until I find something to hold on to.<br />
<br />
The worst part is I can feel myself slipping away into the depths of the ocean but I can never save myself before it happens. I feel myself losing interest in everything and everyone around me, pulling away until I no longer want to leave, yet I always find myself here.<br />
<br />
I can't feel anything, though. I am numb to everything around me. I turn on the shower as hot as it can go to feel something, anything. I scream into the water as it surrounds me but all that I see is the light fading away and I am moving further into the darkness.<br />
<br />
I am here, drowning in the ocean of my depression. I know I'll get better, as long as I continue to see the light.Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-69747742410919166682018-11-14T10:37:00.001-08:002018-11-14T10:37:38.977-08:00Hey, AssholeI've sat down to blog numerous times and have struggled to find the words.<br />
<br />
This year has been a lot. It's been exciting and horrible, brought both joy and tremendous sadness.<br />
<br />
The year started off in Olympia, WA and then quickly moved into living in College Park, MD. Honestly, it's hard to believe I've been back on the East Coast longer than I lived in the Pacific Northwest... but regardless, I am here and am happy.<br />
<br />
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •<br />
<br />
I cannot believe how fast 2018 has gone. I sit here and often struggle to describe how I am feeling.<br />
<br />
These last few months have been rough, to say the least. While great happiness was brought upon me through my marriage to my amazing wife, a bunch of not-so-great things have happened as well.<br /><br />On September 29, while sitting at IHOP, I noticed I had a missed call from my mother. A text came through: "CALL ME IMMEDIATELY." I assumed she was angry with me about something I did (or did not) do. I called her back and heard her hysterical cries. I could barely make out what was said. "Jet... he's dead." We had lost our family dog. He was struck down (and dragged 25+ ft) by a car who did not even stop to see what had happened. The poor waitress at IHOP saw me fall apart at the table and Kirsten saw that I was inconsolable. I was in Maryland and wasn't there to say goodbye.<br />
<br />
On October 9, I received a text from my mother stating I needed to call her immediately. I was walking out of my building, heading across campus for a meeting. I called her and did not get an answer. I began to freak out. What had happened? Was my dad okay? Please for the love of G-d don't be my dad.<br /><br />After what felt like centuries, my brother called me. My cousin Ronnie was found dead earlier that day. I completely collapsed outside of my building. I fell into a heap. I couldn't believe it. My cousin, who had lived with my family on and off for the last few years and helped me move across the country, was gone.<br />
<br />
Everything after that moved very quickly, yet in slow motion at the same time. I headed home on a Wednesday night to say goodbye and then headed back to Maryland on Thursday to pack for a weekend in Pennsylvania with my family. Unfortunately, I was met with car troubles and was unable to get home a second time.<br />
<br />
The month of October brought some happiness, though. I married an amazing woman on October 31st (and we have now officially been married for 2 weeks!).<br />
<br />
Through the ups and downs, I've been lucky to have Kirsten by my side.<br />
<br />
The nights crying in the shower, collapsing into sadness on the couch or the bed, the mornings I have been unable to do anything: she's been there and for that I am quite lucky.<br /><br />Though I haven't been outwardly showing it, I am struggling. This funk isn't going anywhere anytime soon... at least not that I can see. I've sucked at communicating with friends, responding to calls/texts, etc. so don't take it personally. Eventually, I'll pull myself out of this, but for now, please be gentle with me.<br />
<br />
<3<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXTxoPFmL0k">This song loosely reflects how I've been feeling</a> (and is the namesake of my post)<br /><br /><br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-3777127007524041372018-03-08T13:26:00.001-08:002018-03-08T13:30:13.370-08:00The WagonI've been thinking a lot about where I am today in comparison to a year ago. A year ago, I was finishing my last semester of grad school, interviewing for jobs, working hard on my sobriety, and had six months sober under my belt. Things were going well. They weren't easy, but I was managing.<br />
<br />
And then I moved across the country in July. I started a job that I thought I was going to love and I fell in love, hard and fast, with an incredible woman <i style="font-size: small;">(that I miss dearly and cannot wait to see again I might add). </i>And then things started to get really hard at work. Harder than I ever imagined, and I started to hate my job... the job I uprooted my life for. Things were getting hard for my family back on the East Coast so I paid them a visit to give myself piece of mind. And in December, one day shy of my 15 month milestone, I fell off the wagon. <i>And I haven't gotten back on. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I had come so far and was doing so well... why did I need to start again? I had every excuse in the book lined up, but it honestly just came down to this: <i>I started again because I fucking wanted to. </i><br />
<br />
* * * * * * <br />
<br />
It was hard to tell my family that I am drinking again. So hard, in fact, that I waited until I had a drink in my hand before saying anything.<br />
<br />
Being a twenty-something person, or even a person in general, <span style="font-size: x-small;">(or maybe just being me...)</span> it is hard to not want to drink socially with friends/family. It's hard to not drink when you're at a wedding celebrating or out with friends for dinner. It's hard for me to tell myself "no more" when others don't have to worry about that. It's hard to feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells in fear that I may slip up so badly that everyone will notice... that I'll be the fuck-up I've been trying so damn hard not to be my entire life.<br />
<br />
Most days, I'm fine, but when I'm not, I remind myself of this:<br />
<i>You don't need alcohol to always be your crutch. You are fully capable of handling things without drinking your problems away. Yes, drinking is fun and a temporary escape, but that is all that it is: Temporary. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And when that doesn't work, I remind myself: <i>If you start to rely on this again, you won't be able to have it at all. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
So I've been working on it. Every day. Working on taking things one day at a time. Working on not drinking every day. Working on finding other ways to solve problems rather than forgetting about them while I drink myself into oblivion. Working on talking about my feelings rather than holding them in<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (</span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">which is a work in progress and probably always will be)</span>. </i>And when I can't work on it anymore, when it gets too hard, I'll do what I need to do. But for now, I'm chugging along and doing the best I can.<br />
<br />
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* * * * * *<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>* Thanks to everyone in my life for always being so patient and supportive of everything I do. Thanks for letting me make my own mistakes and for always being there when I inevitably need to be picked up off the floor. I appreciate you all more than you know. *</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-13998560263055455412018-02-18T18:07:00.001-08:002018-02-18T18:07:13.255-08:00Within and Without<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Do you ever feel like you're experiencing life while living it? Like that you're simultaneously watching your life happen before your eyes while you're actually living it?</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-79199778-abce-e49c-88f1-02ef4ac656c5" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I can't really explain it. Sometimes I feel like I am on autopilot... as if I am just going through the motions of life, but at the same time I am watching myself do it all. I guess it's kind of like an out-of-body experience.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Have you ever read </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Great Gatsby? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nick Carraway, the narrator of the story, is out with his friend from college and his mistress and they are drinking the day and night away. Nick had drank a decent amount and was drunk at this point (which he talks about in the book). He talks about how the life and the moment he is living in was not his own... He was an outsider to that world (of booze and women and wealth) and he describes it like so:</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight, but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild, strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Nick's description of this is probably the best way for me to describe how I've been experiencing life lately. It's incredibly surreal to feel this way; and not in a good way.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">These moments of depersonalization... the ones where you look in the mirror and cannot comprehend that you are the person standing before you... that you are that person and not someone else... these are apparently symptoms of anxiety, which makes sense. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel this way a lot, but more so when I am going through a big change in my life. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Such as moving across the country for the second time in seven months to start life over, but who is counting, right?) </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The times when I can't comprehend that I actually did something like that. It's honestly still so surreal to me that I packed up my life to move to the PNW seven months ago, just to turn back around and move back to the East Coast. The fact that I drove across the country twice feels like a weird dream. It doesn't feel like the life I'm living is my own and I'm trying to grapple with that and put it into words for people to understand, but honestly, I. Can't. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Maybe one day, I'll find the perfect words that resonate with others, but for now, I'll stick with what I've got.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-11494804281822249672018-01-31T19:28:00.002-08:002018-01-31T19:28:23.843-08:00Tough Choices<i>Seven.</i> That's how many months it has been since I packed up and moved across the country to the gorgeous Evergreen state.<br />
<br />
<i>Six. </i>That's how many months ago I met the beautiful woman whom I love.<br />
<br />
<i>Five.</i> That's how many months it has been since my student staff arrived on campus and I began to feel like I loved my job.<br />
<br />
<i>Four.</i> That's how many months ago everything started to change.<br />
<br />
<i>Three. </i>That's how many months have gone by since I started crying every day after work.<br />
<br />
<i>Two. </i>That's how many months ago I started seriously looking for a new job.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>One.</i> That's how many months have gone by since I visited the University of Maryland for an on campus interview and when I fell in love with it.<br />
<br />
Packing up my entire life to move across the country seven months ago was one of the toughest decisions I have ever made. Deciding that my mental health was not worth sacrificing any more was even tougher.<br />
<br />
When you're driving across the country, you have a lot of time to reflect. Over these last few days, I've been trying to pinpoint exactly when everything changed... and I honestly can't. I wonder "was it always this bad and I just ignored the signs?" or "did the shift happen over night?" As a woman, I have often struggled to find my place in the workplace. <i>Am I speaking up enough in meetings or am I speaking up too much? Does it appear that I am working as hard as my male-identifying peers or does it appear that I am working less? Am I finding a good work/life balance or does it seem like I am uncaring? Am I working too much? Am I too intimidating to my peers? </i>All of these things and more run through my head on a daily basis. For a while, I thought my concerns and how I was being treated was normal for a new professional. And then I took a step back and looked at my situation from the outside:<br />
<br />
<b><i>No, it is not normal to cry every night after work. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>No, it is not normal to work every day until 7, 8, 9, 10pm just to feel "caught up."</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>No, you should not be treated like garbage just because you're new.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>No, being treated nicely once or twice DOES NOT make up for all of the shit you've trudged through.</i></b><br />
<br />
I appreciate the experiences I had in Washington, the people I've met and bonded with, and the important life lessons I've learned.<br />
<br />
My biggest takeaways are these:<br />
<br />
<i>1) Find incredible people who will laugh with you, even in your darkest hours.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>2) No matter how terrible a situation may be, there is always something to laugh about.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>3) When you find great people, hold on tight to them, even if you are separated by an entire country.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>4) Know your worth. And know when it is time to leave.</i><br />
<br />
and lastly,<br />
<br />
<i>5) Moving across the country is all fun and games until you do it twice in seven months...</i><br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-30426476661640468462018-01-03T18:05:00.001-08:002018-01-03T18:05:12.600-08:00NightmaresDo you ever have a reoccurring nightmare? Something you obviously know is a dream, but you are trapped there because you can't wake up?<br /><br />Growing up, I used to have this nightmare where I was trapped at a gas station. It was always the same dimly lit, Sunoco station and I was alone outside. I was always a young girl, no more than 10 years old. A car would always show up and a tall man, whose face I never saw, would get out of the driver's seat. He would always chase me and try to capture me. I would try to scream, but words never came out. I would run as fast as I could, the pavement disappearing behind me, only to find myself back at the Sunoco station. And right when I would be picked up, I would wake up in a panic.<br /><br />I haven't had this dream in years. I honestly haven't been able to really ever remember my dreams, aside from this nightmare and a few others.<br /><br />Most recently, I've been having a different reoccurring nightmare. I am back in junior high school. I am standing in the gym hallway, walking towards the locker room. When I enter it, I cannot find my locker. Eventually, after running down every aisle, I find my locker, but I cannot unlock it. I sit there for what feels like hours, trying to unlock it, but to no avail.<br /><br />And then I wake up.<br /><br />I've been trying to figure out why this, a piece of my life that felt so unimportant, would haunt my dreams. Why would Abington Junior High School gym class nightmares follow me through to adulthood? Was my junior high school experience so traumatizing that the locker room will forever scar me?<br /><br />Maybe the nightmare is symbolism for feeling like I've lost control over things I once thought I had control over. Maybe the nightmare is because I am stressed. Who knows?<br />
<br />
I just hope that maybe one day the nightmares will end and I'll be able to sleep through the night peacefully.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Or maybe they won't. </span></i><br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-80370707951955071352017-10-24T22:43:00.002-07:002017-10-24T22:43:42.147-07:00Alone in a Crowded Room<i>Fuck. It's already the end of October. </i><br />
<br />
That's been the thought that's been swirling through my head all day. It's October 24 (almost 25) and all I've done all month is watch spooky movies. I haven't carved a pumpkin, I haven't gone to a haunted house, I haven't made plans to go out and dress up... and this is my favorite time of year. So what the hell is going on?<br />
<br />
My bipolar disorder has taken over. I've basically lost all motivation to do anything other than sit on the couch and watch movies. It means I go to work, I come home, and that's it. I have no desire or feeling the want to do anything else. I haven't photographed, I haven't blogged... things I love have just lost their luster.<br />
<i><br /></i>
Sometimes I don't think people know just how hard it is for me to even get out of bed in the morning because I haven't slept all night. I'm physically and mentally exhausted constantly, but I put on a brave face every morning and get out of bed (usually much later than I need to) to be there for my students.<br />
<br />
Moving to a new place is hard. It's scary, you often don't know anyone, and you have to adjust. Add being a bipolar mess who has mood spikes on the daily and also dealing with staying sober... well fuck. It's fucking HARD. And I don't think I've been able to adequately vocalize to anyone just how fucking hard it is.<br />
<br />
I constantly feel like I'm on an island. Alone with my thoughts, my feelings, my addiction. I feel alone in a crowded room, always.<br />
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<i>But I'm trying</i>. I've joined a rugby team with some incredible women and I love it. <i style="font-size: small;">(I at least find joy in that...) </i>I'm trying to get connected to other sober people. I'm trying to get back into shooting. I'm trying to blog <i style="font-size: small;">(as you see here). </i><i>I. am. trying.</i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span>
And that's all I can do: take it one day at a time and try to make the day better than the last.<br />
<br />
Eventually, this will all get easier. <i>But when will eventually actually come? </i><br />
<br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-67039568430446653422017-08-13T19:39:00.004-07:002017-08-13T19:43:34.501-07:00White PrivilegeThis is a topic I've blogged about before, but with the recent horrific events that happened in Charlottesville, I felt like I needed to speak on this again.<br />
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White people... we need to get our shit together. Our friends, colleagues, family, any POC we know (and don't know) cannot hold this burden any longer. We cannot expect them to fight this fight alone. It's no fair. We need to use our privilege for good. </div>
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You might be thinking: <i>"What can I do to help? I'm just one person!" </i>Well, here are a few things you can get started on:</div>
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1. LISTEN</div>
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We need to listen to the POC in our lives when they tell us racism is alive and well. Listen to them when they tell you about the everyday racism they endure. Do not downplay how they are feeling or what they have experienced. It's easy to tune out everything that is going on when you aren't dealing with it firsthand. If you're tired of hearing about it, imagine how tired people are of <i>experiencing it. </i></div>
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2. SPEAK UP</div>
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If you see/hear something shitty happening, especially coming from friends or family, let them know it isn't okay. For example, if someone tells you a racist joke, tell them you don't get it. Force them to explain why it is funny. Make them feel shitty about their racism. </div>
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3. Go to a protest</div>
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Even though Charlottesville did not happen very long ago, people have already been coming together and organizing protests and marches around the country. Find one happening locally and attend. </div>
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4. Educate yourself</div>
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It is not anyone's job to educate you on what is going on. Read articles, find books, but do not rely on the POC in your life to educate you. <i>It is not their job. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
5.<i> </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amplify the voices of POC</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-be6d3f47-de9e-a991-fcc4-3e4a99692261"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Sometimes you won't have the words to speak up, but a POC does. Share their Facebook status, retweet them, and tell others you know to drink up their perspective. At the minimum, you can do that. It is a statement in itself.</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-be6d3f47-de9e-a991-fcc4-3e4a99692261"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These are just a few of the things you can use your white privilege for and can start doing </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">today.</span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-be6d3f47-de9e-a991-fcc4-3e4a99692261"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-be6d3f47-de9e-a991-fcc4-3e4a99692261"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If any person in my life is okay with what happened in Charlottesville and/or is okay with remaining silent, please see yourself out. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To my friends, family, and colleagues of color: </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love you, I hear you, and I am working to relieve you of this burden.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> <3</span></span></span></div>
Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-62337110681593842582017-08-03T22:47:00.001-07:002017-08-03T22:47:02.382-07:00Eleven.Today, I am eleven months sober and all I could think about was how much I wanted a drink.<br />
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This isn't uncommon for me, as I am an alcoholic, and I often romanticize the drink. I think of how much more social I was, how much easier it was to make friends, how much I loved to dance and have a good time...<br />
<br />
But then I try to remember the bad. The things I've pushed so far out of my mind they're almost impossible to think of again.<br />
<br />
I remember the shakes, the sleepless nights, the drinking to cure the hangover, the isolation, the loneliness I felt even when I was in a crowded bar. I think about all of those things and I remind myself one drink isn't worth it. (And one drink is never just one drink with me, no matter how much I wish it could be...)<br />
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This is how I try to snap myself out of it. I think of the bad that I don't want to remember and think about how much my life has changed for the better...<br />
<br />
I walked out of an incredibly toxic situation, I graduated a Master's program in Student Affairs, and I moved across the fucking country. <i>The girl who went to college five minutes down the road from her family moved about as far as she could think without having to fly.</i><br />
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It's incredible to think how much can change in a person's life in just eleven months.<br />
<br />
This journey hasn't been easy, and I'm sure there's even more rough roads ahead, but I have today and that's what matters.<br />
<br />
So whatever you're going through, no matter how shitty it may be, just remember to take it one day at a time. You'll get through it, and I'll be here to listen when you need me to.<br />
<br />
<3<br />
<br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-57303426955972077832017-07-09T17:49:00.001-07:002017-07-09T17:49:13.609-07:00At Night, Alone.Do you ever listen to a song and it just resonates with you on an intense level?<br /><br />What about an entire album?<br />
<br />
I've been on my own for about a week and it's been a bit of a struggle. I've lived alone before, but never 3,000+ miles away from almost everyone in my life.<br />
<br />
Being in a new place is challenging and doing it while trying to keep your mental health in check is even harder. I've been trying to get acclimated, but it is a slow and steady process. I've been spending my days occupied with work, my evenings cooking and binge watching tv, but my nights are spent wide awake, overthinking as usual.<br />
<br />
I was trying to figure out ways to fall asleep without alcohol or melatonin, two things that always worked for me in the past, but I no longer have the option to use them any more, and stumbled across a beautiful album by Mike Posner: At Night, Alone. I'd listened to a few songs from it before (I Took a Pill in Ibiza and In the Arms of a Stranger), but had never heard the true versions without being remixed for the radio.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you... the entire album is incredible. It's hauntingly beautiful. I'm not sure it would have the same impact on me if I didn't listen to it at night, alone, but that's how I listen to it for now.<br />
<br />
The songs put me in the feels, and they might do the same for you, but I highly recommend giving the album a listen.<br />
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If you do, let me know what you think.<br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-27421753336388146402017-07-05T18:09:00.001-07:002017-07-05T18:09:14.528-07:00Honesty (is the Best Policy)At a young age, I learned how to lie... and I learned how to do it really well.<br />
<br />
From little white lies about my homework, to manipulating people I cared about, to the big lies that hid my addiction from everyone around me.<br />
<br />
Since getting sober, I've been working on trying to be a better person. Lying had become second nature to me so it's been a major adjustment trying to be honest when possible.<br />
<br />
Before I left good ol' Roslyn, PA, I opened up to someone I cared about.<br />
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I spent a lot of time thinking about it as I drove across the country, the Philadelphia skyline fading into the background of my mind. I kept thinking how much it sucked to open myself up like that just to be let down and if it would've been better just to have kept it to myself.<br />
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But I couldn't keep thinking that.<br />
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At the end of the day, it was so much better to put it all on the line because I would've drove myself nuts thinking about all of the what ifs.<br />
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I guess if there is anything to take away, it's this: try to be as honest as possible, even when it hurts a little to do it. You'll thank me later.<br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-70282677580228154992017-05-31T10:09:00.002-07:002017-05-31T10:09:53.034-07:00Bad Mental Health DayYesterday was a bad mental health day for me, but what does that actually mean?<div>
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It means waking up on the right side of the bed, only to be met with one thing after another. </div>
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It means struggling to stay awake during the day because your nights are filled with tossing and turning until morning light.</div>
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It means neglecting the giant to do list you've had written out for weeks because you can only cross off "get out of bed" lately.</div>
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It means being put on medication that helps to stabilize your mood, but can't help you when you've hit a low.</div>
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It means having a ton of thoughts and feelings swirling around in your head, but not being able to appropriately express yourself.</div>
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It means pulling away from those you care about, fearing your constant state of 'blah' will bring them down.</div>
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It means laying in bed all day, sleeping for 12+ hours, and still feeling exhausted.</div>
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It means fighting the constant battle of forcing yourself to get up and be productive, when all you want to do is relax.</div>
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It means losing all productivity and feeling lazy, even though you are usually the opposite.</div>
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It means going from feeling like you're on top of the world to having it all come crashing down on you.</div>
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It means having one thing happen that sends you spiraling down until you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.</div>
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But sometimes it doesn't look this way for me. Sometimes it means running around, doing everything to keep myself busy, to the point of exhaustion, all with a smile on my face, but still struggling to sleep at night. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">But that's not how it looks this time.</span></i></div>
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Mental health is weird, and I'm not sure I'll ever have a good grasp on it. I've just got to keep on, keepin' on the best I can, counting the little wins until I get out of this rut.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shitty mental health days call for mermaid hair selfies</td></tr>
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Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-41594383527839425642017-05-30T09:18:00.003-07:002017-05-30T09:18:51.669-07:00TimingTiming is everything and it always seems to be my worst enemy.<br />
<br />
I've been trying to tie up a lot of loose ends and get myself together before moving across the country in about a month, but unexpected things keep popping up.<br />
<br />
It always happens that way, though, doesn't it? You meet someone (or someone comes back into your life) and the timing just isn't right. How perfect can that person be if the timing isn't perfect, right? <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I feel like this is a lame excuse because when is timing ever on anyone's side... If you wait for everything to be perfect, you'll be miserable and waiting forever...)</span></i><br />
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I guess the best thing to do when opportunities present themselves at the wrong time, is to live in the moment. There's no sense in thinking of the "what ifs" or the "could haves" and "should haves." If everything truly happens for a reason, there's no point in stressing out about it.<br />
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Of course, this is all easier said than done, but it is wishful thinking.<br />
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At 25 years old, one of the best things I've learned is to just say 'fuck it' and do what you want. Who cares if you're moving across the country in less than a month? If you're enjoying what you're doing (and others involved are aware that you're leaving), than what's the harm in having fun? Just go with the flow and figure it out later. Like I said, there's no point in stressing about it... everything will work itself out in the end.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">...Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself...</span></i><br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-72385439033496859192017-05-11T17:47:00.002-07:002017-05-12T04:00:04.559-07:00When I Grow UpIf you had asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would've always said "an author" until I was about 12 years old. After that, I would've answered "a teacher."<br />
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I can pinpoint the day I changed my mind again. I was about 15 years old, outside of my parents' house in the fall with my friend. Our Japanese Maple tree had lost a ton of leaves, but somehow still appeared full. My friend's hair was a gorgeous red, matching the leaves on the tree and the ground. I pulled out my camera and photographed her. It was in that moment I realized I wanted to take pictures for the rest of my life.<br />
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Fast forward to my senior year of high school. I was attending tech school for commercial art and loving it. I didn't want to go to college because I was already learning so much in high school. "I want to be a photographer, why do I need to go to college? It's so expensive. They will just teach me what I already know." Oh how naive I was back then.<br />
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After a push from my parents, I decided I should just go to college. I applied to a variety of places, but my heart was set on a two year school. My parents did not want me to pursue a photography degree, let alone attend a two year art school. "What if you change your mind? You'll have to change schools completely. Why don't you look at Arcadia again?"<br />
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I remember resenting my parents for pushing me to do this. All I wanted to do was attend Antonelli for two years and then start my photography career. I didn't want to attend an expensive four year school.<br />
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I visited Arcadia for a day, shadowing a student in the art department. I fell in love. The professors were incredible, the campus was gorgeous, and it felt like home. I knew that was where I needed to be.<br />
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Four years later, I graduated with a degree in Fine Arts, much to my parents' dismay. I spent those four years becoming involved in a variety of activities on campus. Student affairs became equally as, if not more, important than my Fine Arts degree, and I loved every minute of it.<br />
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I wasn't ready to leave. I cried, a lot, over the course of my senior year. I found solace in alcohol, an incredibly unhealthy coping mechanism, setting myself on a downward spiral of booze and casual sex for a few years. I was so upset I was leaving I found myself hammered at a bar the night before graduation, crying on the phone to my best friend who was in Italy. I almost missed my graduation, thanks to my addiction.<br />
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I was miserable for about a year and a half after that. Never quite fitting in where I worked. It always felt like something was missing. I was slowly drinking myself out of my mind and into a deeper depression. I had no idea what to do, I was lost and spiraling out of control.<br />
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Just when I thought it was all over, I received a call about an RC opening at Philadelphia University from an old friend and the rest is history.<br />
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2 years later, here I am: eight months sober, on the eve of graduating from a Student Affairs Master's program with a 3.93 GPA.<br />
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The girl who never thought she'd even attend college is about to get her M.Ed.<br />
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I'd like to think I chose this student affairs path, but honestly, it seems like this path chose me.<br />
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I've been lucky in many ways, but I've also worked my ass off to get where I am today. Thank you to everyone who has helped me along the way!<br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-71689496493835178602017-05-05T08:01:00.000-07:002017-05-05T08:20:42.559-07:00Chapters I've been thinking a lot about how my life is one big book series and each person I've spent time with represents a chapter within it.<br />
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There's chapters I've closed and stored away for years that have been reopened and there's some that never had an ending, in hopes there would be some sort of closure eventually. Recently, a few chapters that were left this way have started to end.<br />
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As I was packing up my room yesterday, I received a message from an ex, just asking how I was doing. They had heard about my sobriety through the grapevine and were incredibly happy for me. To be honest, I'd never expected to hear from this person again. I was overcome by emotion, I didn't know what to do. All the memories came rushing back and I collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying as Harry Styles <i>Sign of the Times </i>played through my speakers.<br />
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We spoke briefly and I told them I was moving to Olympia in a little over a month. There was a long pause before anything was sent. "Oh wow! For work?" was all that I received. I don't know what I was expecting, but it definitely was not that. I guess they did not know what else to say. Maybe they realized I truly wasn't going to wait around forever and that I was going to live my life my way. I wasn't going to be the person they could always come back to when their life was falling apart anymore.<br />
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I've thought about this a lot, analyzing the details of this conversation, thinking about all of the could haves, would haves, should haves in my life, and I've come to this conclusion: you can't dwell on the past. People are placed in our lives for specific reasons. Some to teach us tough lessons, some to carry us through a challenging time, others to stay with us forever, but we can't get hung up on the "what ifs," as easy as it is to do it.<br />
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While I'm sad many of my chapters are ending and this book of the first 25 years of my life is closing, I'm excited to start the next book in my series.<br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-52514250522759458442017-04-23T16:02:00.003-07:002017-04-23T16:02:55.604-07:00NostalgiaFor the last few weeks, I've been feeling really nostalgic. I guess that's what happens when you realize you won't be living in the same place much longer.<br />
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For those of you that don't know, I've accepted a job in Olympia, Washington and I'll be taking a road trip with my best friend across the country in about two months. It's going to be an exciting next chapter, but it is also so surreal that I won't be living in the Philadelphia area much longer.<br />
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I think it finally clicked when I was driving myself to the tattoo shop from my parents' house. I took a backroad that I fondly called "Tickle Road Valley" as a child.<br />
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As I drove down the road, I was instantly transported back to the days in our black Ford Bronco, with the windows down, shouting "faster!" at my mother as she drove over the hills. In that moment, I realized how much I cherished the small memories from my childhood. It never registered to me how many memories I have in this area, but now that I'm leaving, they are all flooding back.<br />
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I'm ecstatic to be leaving, don't get me wrong, though it will be an adjustment. Leaving a place is never easy, but I'll always have the memories to call it home.<br />
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<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-67926860991642608022017-04-05T15:32:00.000-07:002017-04-05T15:34:04.956-07:00GhostsHave you ever walked into a place, where you shared a lot of memories with someone, and immediately feel them pouring back in no matter how hard you've tried to shut them out? Imagine that happening every time you walk in through the door to your apartment or house, into your room, your favorite ice cream shop or bar. You close your eyes and try to push the memories away, but despite your best efforts, they continue to creep into your mind.<br />
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It's hard for me to remember what life was like without these ghosts. They follow me around my apartment, around my parents' house, around my hometown. No matter how much time has passed, the ghosts still haunt me in the places I wish I could go to escape them.<br />
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These ghosts are of past lovers and friends, people with whom I've spent much of my time with, but are now practically strangers. My mind longs to forget the memories, the good and the bad, yet they continue to come back to haunt me. Once fond memories now cause pain. I'm haunted by my past mistakes, who I used to be, and those with whom I've spent time.<br />
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I've been thinking a lot about this lately, and have been struggling to put my feelings into words. They continue to roll around in my head, despite me pouring them out into this post.<br />
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There's a thousand more things I could write, but I'll leave it at that... for now.Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-72985925841329045272017-03-06T08:40:00.000-08:002017-03-06T08:40:09.266-08:00A Letter to My ExesDear Exes,<br /><br />It's been a while since we've talked. Some of you I hope to <i>never speak to again</i>, others have drifted apart since our lives have taken us different directions.<br />
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I hope this letter finds you well and that you are happy in whatever you are doing. I hope you've found someone that makes you happy and are doing things you've always wanted.<br />
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I'm writing this letter because I wanted to thank you for what you've done for me. Many of you have taught me not only how to love someone else, but also how to love myself.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i> In a broader sense, t</i></span><span style="font-size: xx-small; font-style: italic;">hat's pretty much the reason I'm not with any of you any more, if we are being completely honest here... </span><br />
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In one way or another, you each have taught me something special. I've learned not to take shit from anyone. I've learned that I am strong person who does not need to rely on another person to do things for me. I've learned that I can be happy alone. I've learned that love shouldn't hurt physically. I've learned that love shouldn't abuse you emotionally. I've learned that I am worth more than what you used to tell me. I've learned that first and foremost I need to love and put myself first, instead of bending over backwards for someone who didn't even seem to notice I was there. But most of all, I've learned that everything happens for a reason.<br />
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Yes, I used that cliche here, but it's true. Honestly, I always had my life planned out. For a long time, I thought I would be married to you with a house and kids, living life as a freelance photographer. Then, I thought I would be living in this area for the rest of my life, probably miserable since I had never gotten to travel the world the way I had wanted to. Now, I realize I don't have to change my plans for anyone. The right person won't make you change your direction for them. They will support and love you, no matter where you choose to go.<br />
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So like I said, I wanted to thank you for teaching me these lessons. They were not easy to learn, but they were necessary. I was young and naive, I was a drunk, I was a mess, but now I'm taking the steps I need to in order to better myself and be the best person I can be. And I couldn't have done it without you.<br />
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Thanks again, wherever you all are,<br />
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<i>Me</i>Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-55575896153468963582017-03-03T09:16:00.000-08:002017-03-03T09:16:50.333-08:00Six MonthsFor the last six months, I've been dealing with something that I haven't shared with many. It's not because I don't want people to know, but rather it's been something I've been trying to come to terms with myself.<br />
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I guess the best way to start this is to re-introduce myself to you:<br />
<br />Hi, I'm Allee and I'm an alcoholic.<br />
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This is something I've been battling for a long time, but haven't ever shared it with anyone. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(A</span></i><i style="font-size: small;">lso, I was the last person to know I had a problem, so that also adds to it.) </i>I look back at my life prior to admitting this and realize how much of a problem it truly was. I wasn't in a good place, for a variety of reasons, but I came into contact with someone who helped me to realize it's okay to be struggling and that there are ways to get help. That person had no idea how much hearing their own story helped me to come to terms with my addiction, but I am forever grateful they shared it with me.<br />
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The reason I felt compelled to share today and not any other day is because today marks six months sober. It's been a tough journey so far, and I hope it gets easier, but I understand that I will have my good days and my bad days. What's important to note is that yes, today I have six months, but tomorrow I could start all over. Sobriety is an ongoing process and though I hope I can continue down the path I am on, things happen.<br />
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For those of you that I've distanced myself from over the last six months, it's nothing personal. As I mentioned before, this has been a struggle and I have been trying to find ways to have fun without being in the presence of alcohol, which is quite difficult for a twenty-something to do. I've felt left out, I've been angry, and I've cried. It's sucked many weekends to say "no" to something I really wanted to do, all because I was concerned about being surrounded by my triggers. I want you all to know that even if I've distanced myself from you, I love you dearly and care about you. I just can't have fun in the ways we used to.<br />
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Now, I'm not sharing this for any kind of sympathy or kind words. To be honest, I just wanted to get it off of my chest because I felt like I was hiding something about myself. I'm finally getting comfortable with the skin I'm in and this is a part of me now. The other reason I'm sharing this is because I want others to know it is okay not to be okay and that there are others struggling as well. I want others to know that people are here to help, and if they need someone to talk to about this, I'm here and willing to do help in whatever capacity I can. I'm not perfect, but sometimes it helps just to have someone who understands listen to what you're going through. So if you need someone, I'm here.<br />
<i><br />If you're interested in learning more about my story or just want someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to reach out. </i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>That's all folks!</i></span>Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-76048628590250334172017-02-13T18:17:00.000-08:002017-02-13T18:17:42.551-08:00Stupid, Sappy VDayIt's February 13, which means tomorrow is one of my least favorite holidays ever.<br />
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Valentine's Day is a big hoax, Hallmark holiday to get people to spend unnecessary amounts of money on the people they love most. As much as I hate on the idea of love, I think it's important to show people you care more than just one day a year. A bouquet of flowers on a Thursday because they reminded you of me means more than a box of chocolate on VDay because society says you <i>have</i> to do it.<br />
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I'm sure some of you are reading this thinking "what the hell happened to this girl to make her so cynical about love and Valentine's Day?" but the truth is, I've always felt this way. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(It doesn't help that a year ago tomorrow I was ghosted by my then-boyfriend. Who the hell ditches and stops talking to their significant other on Valentine's Day!? Awful people, that's who... but I digress...)</span></i><br />
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As I said before, I think it's important to show and tell people you care about them more than just on Valentine's Day.<br />
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So go out, spend time with the people who mean the most to you tomorrow, but tell them you love and care for them <i>throughout the year</i> as well.<br />
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<i>Hope you all have a stupid, sappy VDay!</i><br />
<br />Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-73557131144716638602017-02-11T17:44:00.001-08:002017-02-11T17:44:29.200-08:00The "R" WordIt's been a few months since I've last blogged. I could sit here and make excuses all day, but honestly I just wasn't motivated to blog about anything. The last few months have been challenging and I'll leave it at that for now.<br /><br />The reason why I'm even blogging today is because of something that happened at a conference I attended with three PhilaU leaders.<br />
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A well known speaker and writer, Shinjini Das, was the keynote speaker at the Inclusive Leadership Conference. The theme was inclusivity and finding your voice, but there was definitely a lack of the former.<br />
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Her speech was culturally insensitive in more ways than one and she even stated in her speech, "Of course I understand, it's not like I'm retarded."<br />
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A speech that started off empowering, getting the crowd excited, suddenly took a turn. The entire room fell silent after hearing that sentence. Immediately, the crowd lost interest in what she was saying.<br />
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At the end of her speech, she took questions. The students sitting next to me wanted to speak up and tell Shinjini why that word was not appropriate. I encouraged them to do so, or to speak with her after she got off the stage. Before the students could even make a decision, a voice spoke out from the back of the audience.<br />
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The student started off by asking if Shinjini had ever taken a cultural sensitivity course because many of the terminology used was not only outdated, but also highly offensive. They continued on by saying using the word retarded was not acceptable and a keynote speaker at an inclusivity conference should have known better than to use it. Shinjini did not have a response.<br />
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After she left the stage, the conference host stated that the use of the word retarded was unacceptable, outdated, and incorrect. They stated that using offensive words was not going to be tolerated in this setting, as we wanted to promote inclusivity.<br />
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A few other things happened during this conference that were concerning. During a women's empowerment session, the two presenters were using the words female and woman interchangeably. One of my students used her voice to correct the presenters, informing them that female refers to sex assigned at birth where as woman refers to gender, which is just one of twenty-six genders. The presenters thanked her in the session for correcting them and used the proper terminology for the rest of the session. Needless to say, I was quite proud of my student.<br />
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The last issue that occurred in my presence was involving the all gender bathrooms at the conference. At the start of the conference, signs were placed over top of the original signs, indicating they would be all gender bathrooms. Right before lunch, I noticed that the signs had been moved below the originals, defeating the purpose of having an all gender bathroom. (People are more likely to just use the bathroom for how they present themselves when they can see who should be using which. I.e. a woman uses the women's bathroom because she is accustomed to seeing the sign.) Upon noticing this, I immediately informed the conference hosts that it was counterproductive to do this and that in the future, they should educate the conference goers on why all gender bathrooms are important and that they would be used at the conference. The hosts immediately went to fix it and apologized for the issue.<br />
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All of these issues today have shown me that we truly do have a long way to go as a profession, as well as a country. Seeing these things firsthand was truly upsetting, but I am so proud of the students who found their voices and were not afraid to speak up.<br /><br />I challenge you all to speak up next time you see something is wrong, instead of just shrugging it off and assuming someone else will do it. It's not easy, but it will definitely be worth it.Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1616975260401668829.post-82906451930460067392016-11-15T19:50:00.000-08:002016-11-15T19:50:39.812-08:00I Am FromToday's been an emotionally draining day. It felt like it was one thing after another and I couldn't catch a break. How's that saying go? <i>When it rains, it pours. </i>Sounds about accurate for my day.<br /><br />But it hasn't just been one day that's been tough. The last 70+ days have been an uphill battle, but I have the best people in my life helping me get through. Recently, a few people have come back into my life from my past and I couldn't be more thankful for these people. Y'all are truly a gift and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. You know who you are <3<br /><br />I also wanted to take this time to thank someone super amazing in my life. She always gives me tough love and tells me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. Today was especially tough to hear the things she had to say to me, but it was exactly what I needed to hear to get through the rest of the day. Tess, thank you for being such an incredible friend! <3<br /><br />While today was quite tough in more ways than one, there was definitely a silver lining to it: I got to write during work today. I had to think back to my childhood and life, which was tough, but I was able to write a little bit so I'll take it.<br /><br />The poem we had to write was called <i>I Am From. </i>We did this to show the student staff what they would be doing with their residents during their hall meetings. Here's what I came up with:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">I am from quiet backroads off of busy streets, streetlights turning on and calling you home.<br /><br />I am from quick dinners before practice and small gatherings for holidays.<br /><br />I am from <i>everything happens for a reason and this too shall pass. Things will get better, you just have to work hard for it.</i><br /><br />I am from two parents who worked themselves exhausted, a mechanic who never had clean hands so we'd always have a roof over our heads and a mother who cared more for everyone else, giving what little she had to those who had nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I am a bunch of broken pieces, strung together into a body that I've hated to call my own for so long. I am me because of everything that I've experienced, the good, the bad, and the ugly. </span><br /><br />
It isn't much, but it's what I've got.<br /><br />That's all folks.Allee in wonderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03843711028765823081noreply@blogger.com0