Like a Phoenix

As the year comes to a close, I've been doing some reflecting. Reflection about where I was a year ago and where 2024 took me, specifically.

The last 6 months of 2023 through a chunk of 2024 was rough, mostly due to the divorce I was going through. While it wasn't the worst it could've been, the process sucked a lot and was incredibly stressful. It took a huge toll on my physical and mental health, which sucks as someone who is already chronically ill and disabled. Luckily the formalized process ended last February. There were still pieces that had to connect me to my ex for months thereafter, but the ties have been severed and there is nothing connecting me to them anymore. And for that, a huge weight has been lifted and I finally feel as though I can fully move on (with help from my therapist every other week).

Despite all of the shittiness that happened, I made sure this was my year of being the Phoenix. I was determined to rise from the ashes of every piece of me that was taken last year. 

In honor of that, here is my highlight reel for 2024:

1.  Whitney and I officially started our relationship (technically on 12/31/23, but we brought in the New Year together so that counts, I think)
2.  I was awarded the NWACUHO Operations and Facilities Award in February
3.  I designed the 2024 NWACUHO Annual Conference logo for the Eugene location (and had it printed on pins and mugs!)
4. I was elected as the Director of Diversity, Inclusion, and Engagement of NWACUHO for 2024-2026
5. I presented at the NWACUHO Annual Conference about Universal Design in Architecture with a colleague at Mahlum Architects
6. I was awarded the ACUHO-I Outstanding Mid-Level Professional Award in June
7. I finally started supervising professional staff, after years of trying to find ways to do this
8. A position title change and pay raise came with the above, too!
9. Whitney and I officially moved in together in July after many months of long distance (we even painted a super cool mural on our wall and made a cloud ceiling for the living room)
10. I was accepted to present at the 2025 NWACUHO Annual Conference about supporting disabled staff and employees on college and university campuses
11. I was nominated and elected to the Faculty Senate at Oregon State University for 2025-2027

I share this because I am fucking proud of everything I did over the last year. Every day living in this lemon of a body is a challenge and I cannot believe I was able to do these things. But as we think about all the good things, it is okay to think about some of the bad, too. This is just the #HighlightReel. It doesn't show how many hours I was stuck in bed not able to move. It doesn't show how many times I had to bail on hanging with friends or had to opt to work from home because my disabilities rendered me disabled, yet again. It doesn't show the times it was too painful to talk or the times I forgot what I was talking about midsentence because the brain fog was too much.

As you see folx sharing their highlight reels, remember it doesn't show everything folx went through. It's also okay if "all you did" this year was survive because that isn't easy, either. 

Some days (read weeks/months/years) all we can do is survive and that's okay. 

... is this ... growth?

I used to envy people who seemed so happy. I hated them even. It was never fair that folx could feel that and I couldn't. All I could feel was numb. I didn't understand that there were other ways to feel. Yeah, I could fake it, but it never really stuck. I knew something was wrong, but no matter what I did with medications or therapy or other temporary solutions, nothing worked.

It was years that I felt like this. Honestly, it was for as long as I can remember. I constantly felt like I was spiraling into an abyss and I couldn't claw my way out. The light at the end of the tunnel was so dim I could barely see it and often struggled to hold on.

I tried to find joy in things: painting, photography, doodling, writing, drinking, spending time with friends, falling in love and getting married... but everything was just a band-aid. My fight or flight response was constantly activated and I could never relax or stop feeling anxious so the spiraling continued. My manic episodes were terrible and I couldn't get a grip on how to fix it. I was stuck.

And then one day... things felt lighter. I wasn't constantly thinking about ending my life... I wasn't even passively thinking about it. My intrusive thoughts became less and less frequent and I finally felt like I could breathe.

Of course this didn't happen overnight, but it honestly felt like it did. I remember I was in the shower a month or so ago and was thinking to myself "wow, this is the first time in forever where I don't want to die..." and then I cried. And it was so freeing.

So how did I get here? 

Well, number 1: Therapy and medication, and lots of it. I found a therapist who works with me and helps me understand the why behind how I am feeling and how to move through it. She has helped me to find ways to process some of my C-PTSD and to actually talk about how I am feeling instead of just pushing the feelings aside.

Number 2: two very wise friends told me to be kinder to myself and I started doing that. It sounds super silly to remove (most) of the negative self talk, but Holy Toledo, it has worked wonders for me. I know it's not a cure-all, but truly... wow. I have noticed a difference.

Number 3: I have changed how I look at my chronic illnesses and disabilities. I have had to reframe my thinking from "when I was better" or "before" to thinking about what life looks like now. Am I still sad about how different my life is now? Absolutely. Am I still grieving the loss of my life before I was sick? 1000%. The difference now is I am trying not to focus so much on it so I can start to enjoy where I am at now. It's hard to fully express this right now (yay brain fog!) but I definitely want to talk more about this when I can think a bit better.

I spent so much of my life thinking "oh, I won't make it to *insert age here*" and never really did future planning. Now I'm thinking about life 5, 10, 15, even 20 years into the future and it's beautiful. I'm finally loving my life and who I am (hell yeah for being in my thirties, getting divorced, and dropping the weight of anyone's expectations other than my own!). It's been a very l o n g and exhausting road, but here we are. 

So, if there's anything you can take away from my ramblings today it's this: life is fucking hard, but things can get better. If you're struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's there. You have people in your corner who want to see you succeed and keep going (hell, I can be one of those people for you). (Note: Yes, I know I am privileged to be able to say things have gotten better and to have access to the resources to get me where I am. I have had to work hard to get here and I am proud of where I am and want to find ways to give back to others who aren't as lucky, but that's a story for another time...)

Yesterday was National Suicide Prevention Day and TWLOHA's theme this year is Please Stay Alive. I am so happy I have persevered and have kept going, one day at a time. I am still here and I am happy you are too.

Visit https://pleasestayalive.com/ for resources if you are struggling with thoughts of suicide, self-harm, or just having a rough time.

I'm Back, Baby!

Wow... it's been a while since I've written here. I honestly forgot about this and how much I used to love writing. I realized I lost this part of me when I had gotten married, along with so many other parts of myself.

In case you haven't been following my social media, quite a few changes have come up for me in the last year. Here's a quick recap:

In July 2023, my now ex-spouse left me suddenly, citing he wanted to become monogamous with his new girlfriend. And that was that. There was nothing I could say or do to "fix" things. (Looking back, how can you fix something if you're the only one working towards it? Oh Allee, we were so naïve.) My biggest fear that I would be left to manage my life as a disabled woman alone came true... I had talked about this over and over again with my therapist (there were so many signs things were not going well, I know, I know...) trying to figure out how I could ever go on if my ex left me. I was so scared of having to figure out life on my own in my wheelchair that I had never stopped to think it could actually be the best thing to happen to me. And July 2023 Allee refused to think that. She was depressed, withering away (seriously, I lost so much weight I looked sicker than ever), and couldn't leave the house. 

I moved out a week and two days after he said it was over into a cute little cottage with a backyard, bringing Boba, Persie, and Nebula with me. 

I worked hard to pull myself out of the depths of depression. I worked from home for almost two months. I cried every day and could barely leave my bed. 

November hit and I had moved passed sadness and into anger. My ex had pulled a Michael Scott ("I declare divorce!") and did nothing other than make things difficult for me. I tried to be civil and work together to file for divorce, but alas, the deadlines I set were not met and I filed for divorce myself. He hired a lawyer, I didn't, and still got what I wanted (including the money he owed me). As of February 12, 2024, I am legally divorced. 

Now between the shittiness, there were many glimmers of happiness and hope.

The Funeral; 2023 

I dressed up as Poison Ivy for Halloween for the first time, which was something I had wanted to do for years and never did. I drew a lot of chaos art (check it out on Instagram: @CryptidWonderland) and spent time with my chosen family. I created a badass self-portrait utilizing my complex's hot tub (see below. ID will be at the bottom of the page). I met my wonderful partner, Whitney, and we even moved in together in July. 

I also did a lot with work. I nominated myself for two awards within professional organizations I'm part of and won them both! (NWACUHO Operations and Facilities Award and ACUHO-I's Mid-Level Professional Award) I got a promotion and moved into a manager role where I supervise a professional staff member and have been working on opening a new building (staff just moved in last week!). 

I share all of this because I want to normalize shit happening. Sometimes the things you think you want are taken away and you're forced to figure out a new normal. Divorce happens. It sucks a lot when you don't feel like you get a say in it, but hey, we move on, right? 

I cannot recommend speaking with a therapist to get through the worst days of your life (and to talk about the good, too!). I don't think I would've survived the last year without therapy, my chosen family, and my animals. 

Life looks different now than it did a year ago and I'm happier than ever. I listened to a lot of music that helped me process my emotions (though I do wish Taylor's Tortured Poet's Department came out last July... so many of those songs hit so hard with what I was processing...).

I am slowly trying to get back into doing things I love and rediscovering parts of myself I pushed away over the last 5 years, hence the jump back into blogging. 

I'm not sure how often I'll blog, but I want to use this as a space to normalize things and talk through the good, the bad, and the ugly of disabled life.

If you've read this far, thanks for being here. Here's some music that got me through the last year:
Happier Than Ever

The Funeral

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Lover

Fade Into You

Anything Chappell Roan

I'm Back

{image description: a white woman with a heavily tattooed arm emerges from the water with clouds of steam around her. She is wearing her black wedding dress and is holding a bouquet of her wedding flowers in her left hand. She glances over her left shoulder down into the water.}

29.

The hardest part about living longer than you've anticipated is that you didn't fucking plan for this. 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 

I'm still. fucking. here.

Some folx may say "But Allee, it's a GOOD thing you're still alive. You've made it this far. You should be so proud of yourself..." which is true, but that doesn't mean I can wrap my head around this shit. 

So here I am, staring 29 in the face... Endlessly trying to convince myself that folx do genuinely care about me ...

... and that I am not a burden ...

... and that checking out early is not an option. 

29. Fuck. I never thought I'd make it here. I never thought I'd make it to 18, if we are being honest. This must be a fluke, right? 

Somehow I've been able to make a deal with the devil in exchange for immortality (at least until I am proven mortal) so I guess it's about time I get my shit together.

Maybe 29 will be better than 28. 

At least, that's what I'm holding out hope for...

Holding My Breath

I feel like I’ve been holding my breath
Watching, waiting for something. Anything.
Like I am under water, needing to come up for air
But I can never make it to the surface.
So I wait for the moment when I can breathe again.
I turn the water
Hot, hotter, hotter
Until I can’t take it anymore
So I can finally feel something
And take another breath.

27 Candles

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Drowning

It 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Hey, Asshole

I've sat down to blog numerous times and have struggled to find the words.

This year has been a lot. It's been exciting and horrible, brought both joy and tremendous sadness.

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.

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I cannot believe how fast 2018 has gone. I sit here and often struggle to describe how I am feeling.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!).

Through the ups and downs, I've been lucky to have Kirsten by my side.

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.

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.

<3

This song loosely reflects how I've been feeling (and is the namesake of my post)

The Wagon

I'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.

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 (that I miss dearly and cannot wait to see again I might add). 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. And I haven't gotten back on. 

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 started again because I fucking wanted to. 

*                                *                                *                                          *                                *                                          *                                                                   

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.

Being a twenty-something person, or even a person in general, (or maybe just being me...) 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.

Most days, I'm fine, but when I'm not, I remind myself of this:
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. 

And when that doesn't work, I remind myself: If you start to rely on this again, you won't be able to have it at all. 

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 (which is a work in progress and probably always will be). 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.


*                                *                                *                                          *                                *                                          *


* 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. *

Within and Without

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?

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.

Have you ever read The Great Gatsby? 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:

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. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

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.

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.

I feel this way a lot, but more so when I am going through a big change in my life. (Such as moving across the country for the second time in seven months to start life over, but who is counting, right?) 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.

Maybe one day, I'll find the perfect words that resonate with others, but for now, I'll stick with what I've got.

Tough Choices

Seven. That's how many months it has been since I packed up and moved across the country to the gorgeous Evergreen state.

Six. That's how many months ago I met the beautiful woman whom I love.

Five. 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.

Four. That's how many months ago everything started to change.

Three. That's how many months have gone by since I started crying every day after work.

Two. That's how many months ago I started seriously looking for a new job.

One. 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.

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.

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. 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? 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:

No, it is not normal to cry every night after work. 

No, it is not normal to work every day until 7, 8, 9, 10pm just to feel "caught up."

No, you should not be treated like garbage just because you're new.

No, being treated nicely once or twice DOES NOT make up for all of the shit you've trudged through.

I appreciate the experiences I had in Washington, the people I've met and bonded with, and the important life lessons I've learned.

My biggest takeaways are these:

1) Find incredible people who will laugh with you, even in your darkest hours.

2) No matter how terrible a situation may be, there is always something to laugh about.

3) When you find great people, hold on tight to them, even if you are separated by an entire country.

4) Know your worth. And know when it is time to leave.

and lastly,

5) Moving across the country is all fun and games until you do it twice in seven months...

Nightmares

Do you ever have a reoccurring nightmare? Something you obviously know is a dream, but you are trapped there because you can't wake up?

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.

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.

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.

And then I wake up.

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?

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?

I just hope that maybe one day the nightmares will end and I'll be able to sleep through the night peacefully.

Or maybe they won't. 

Alone in a Crowded Room

Fuck. It's already the end of October. 

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

But I'm trying. I've joined a rugby team with some incredible women and I love it. (I at least find joy in that...) I'm trying to get connected to other sober people. I'm trying to get back into shooting. I'm trying to blog (as you see here). I. am. trying.

And that's all I can do: take it one day at a time and try to make the day better than the last.

Eventually, this will all get easier. But when will eventually actually come? 

White Privilege

This 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.

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. 

You might be thinking: "What can I do to help? I'm just one person!" Well, here are a few things you can get started on:

1. LISTEN

   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 experiencing it. 

2. SPEAK UP

    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. 

3. Go to a protest

    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. 

4. Educate yourself

    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. It is not their job. 

5. Amplify the voices of POC

   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.

These are just a few of the things you can use your white privilege for and can start doing today.

If any person in my life is okay with what happened in Charlottesville and/or is okay with remaining silent, please see yourself out.

To my friends, family, and colleagues of color: I love you, I hear you, and I am working to relieve you of this burden. <3

Eleven.

Today, I am eleven months sober and all I could think about was how much I wanted a drink.

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...

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.

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...)

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...

I walked out of an incredibly toxic situation, I graduated a Master's program in Student Affairs, and I moved across the fucking country. 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.

It's incredible to think how much can change in a person's life in just eleven months.

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.

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.

<3

At Night, Alone.

Do you ever listen to a song and it just resonates with you on an intense level?

What about an entire album?

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.

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.

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.

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.

The songs put me in the feels, and they might do the same for you, but I highly recommend giving the album a listen.

If you do, let me know what you think.

Honesty (is the Best Policy)

At a young age, I learned how to lie... and I learned how to do it really well.

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.

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.

Before I left good ol' Roslyn, PA, I opened up to someone I cared about.

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.

But I couldn't keep thinking that.

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.

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.

Bad Mental Health Day

Yesterday was a bad mental health day for me, but what does that actually mean?

It means waking up on the right side of the bed, only to be met with one thing after another. 

It means struggling to stay awake during the day because your nights are filled with tossing and turning until morning light.

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.

It means being put on medication that helps to stabilize your mood, but can't help you when you've hit a low.

It means having a ton of thoughts and feelings swirling around in your head, but not being able to appropriately express yourself.

It means pulling away from those you care about, fearing your constant state of 'blah' will bring them down.

It means laying in bed all day, sleeping for 12+ hours, and still feeling exhausted.

It means fighting the constant battle of forcing yourself to get up and be productive, when all you want to do is relax.

It means losing all productivity and feeling lazy, even though you are usually the opposite.

It means going from feeling like you're on top of the world to having it all come crashing down on you.

It means having one thing happen that sends you spiraling down until you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

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. 

But that's not how it looks this time.

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.

Shitty mental health days call for mermaid hair selfies

Timing

Timing is everything and it always seems to be my worst enemy.

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.

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 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...)

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.

Of course, this is all easier said than done, but it is wishful thinking.

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.

...Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself...

When I Grow Up

If 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."

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The girl who never thought she'd even attend college is about to get her M.Ed.

I'd like to think I chose this student affairs path, but honestly, it seems like this path chose me.

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!