#silver lining is i let myself yell at a coworker who deserved it

[nonsensicalvulpes]

i have truly been in the throws of insanity the last few weeks and especially the last few days. if im acting crazy its bc i am and have always been and always will be

[amandahree]

this was the worst year of my life

(it feels uncharacteristic to broadcast my personal problems on social media, but i want to document 2017 before it ends.)

this year was deadass the worst year of my life and let me tell you why.

i lost many friendships. let me rephrase that - i chose to lose friendships. i decided i wasn’t going to associate myself with people who couldn’t reciprocate the same effort as me. i decided life is too short to settle for shitty friends, and i said goodbye to people who once meant the world to me. 

i lived with an absolute psychopath roommate who constantly disrespected me and made me hate being at home. i was hiding in my room all the time when she was home, locking my bedroom door every time i left for work, and always afraid to see her face when i left my room. 

most traumatic of all, i walked away from a ~3 year long relationship with someone i had given my absolute all to. someone i thought about 24/7 and wanted a future with. someone i constantly vouched for and believed in more than myself. but he was manipulative, emotionally abusive, and sadistic. i never knew how bad it was until i let go and was finally able to breathe again. i stopped having multiple breakdowns a day and having anxiety attacks so intense that only cigarettes or shots of whiskey could distract me from. i learned afterwards about gaslighting (when someone manipulates and brainwashes you until you’re convinced you’re crazy, not worthy of love, and will never amount to anything), and realized what happened to me. he had me like a little puppet - controlling the way i thought and felt about myself so i wouldn’t leave him. making me feel guilty for accomplishing things in school and at work. making me feel ashamed for having parents who provided me with everything and more, because his couldn’t. he cheated on me, lied left and right about where he was and what he was doing (drugs and other girls), and betrayed me for months (maybe even for years... who knows). i made it so easy for him too. i always believed he was telling me the truth, and then he’d get mad at me for even asking. the first time i caught him bragging to his friends about trying to get with other girls, he threatened to break up with me. and even though i wasn’t wrong, i still apologized. i was afraid. he made sure i had crippling low self esteem. he used to photoshop pictures of me before posting them on social media. he would add makeup to my eyes, make my thighs thinner, make my face slimmer, and make my butt bigger. and it worked because i was convinced i was absolutely worthless and just... ugly. i stopped wearing certain clothes in front of him (flannels, sweatpants, and hoodies) because he would insult me until i felt so, so small. he only paid attention to me when i was showing cleavage or wearing tight pants. i wasn’t allowed to wear heels because i was already taller than him, and i subconsciously developed a habit of slouching so that he could be “taller.” i always gave my best and got retaliated with something unexpected. like the time i surprised him with a $350 backpack he really wanted for christmas (which was way over my college student budget) and instead of thanking me, he yelled at me for selecting standard shipping and not overnight. or like the time i bought his second turntable for djing ($250, in addition to the $350 i already spent on him that christmas) because he was short on cash and he didn’t even say “thank you.” the only time we talked on the phone was when he needed my credit card information. he tried to cut me off from my friends. there was a time he literally snatched my phone from me so i couldn’t text them back. i remember one time i was having a horrible breakdown. but instead of trying to calm me down or talk me out of it, he just played games on his phone. for his 24th birthday, i custom made a scrapbook with pictures of us over the years. it took me maybe two weeks to finish and i was so excited about it. he never read it. the hardest part was i never understood why any of this was happening to me, or if i deserved it. there were times i didn’t even want to be alive anymore. i revisited a lot of old, self-destructive habits and he refused to acknowledge them, help me, or help me get help. he made me feel guilty for eating, to the point where i was counting every last calorie and punishing myself if i went over 1200. by the end of our relationship, i was so depressed i was eating one meal a day on my best days, and i lost 14 lbs in 2 weeks. i thought i didn’t deserve to be alive, and almost gave up.

this was the worst year of my life, 

but this was also the best year of my life.

i moved out of college, started working full time a semester early, graduated, and got promoted - all within 8 months. i worked my ass off to achieve something i really wanted, and i got it, despite all the shit that was happening to me behind the scenes. 

i made a new best friend. someone i can trust my everything with, and someone just as genuine and alike as me. someone who is able to help me be the best and strongest version of myself. someone who hates my ex more than i do and someone who refuses to let me get taken advantage of.

i felt so much love and support from my friends and family when i was recovering, to the point where i was completely overwhelmed with love. my mom was cooking me weeks worth of food because she knew i was too sad to eat, let alone cook for myself. my brother constantly reassured me i could make it through, and never let me give up. 

i started lifting. like, really lifting. not like 20lb smith machine squat shit. i’m lifting more than i thought i’d ever be able to, and i’m finally building the body i’ve always wanted. i’m back to a healthy weight and my appetite is back. also i can already squat more than my ex boyfriend weighs. 

i found the strength to walk away from a toxic and emotionally abusive relationship, and i’m tenfolds stronger than before.

i did something ballsy and for me, and dyed my hair pink.

i genuinely love my job, my coworkers, and my company. i’m regularly showered with so much free makeup and perfume to the point where i don’t even know what to do with it.

i’m moving out to a brand new apartment in a few days. i’m getting a new, fresh start and i no longer have to imprison myself in my own room.

most importantly, i survived.

that being said, a few life lessons i learned from this traumatic, hell of a year:

you are not defined by the opinions of others. your worth is not based off what someone thinks of you.

if someone (a boyfriend, girlfriend, friend, etc.) is toxic enough to bring out a “crazy” side in you, leave. 

sometimes being the bigger person means choosing not to fight.

be the best version of yourself for YOU, no one else. you are the main character of your own story. own it.

some people are just not worth your time. and that’s okay.

your body realizes what’s going on before your mind does. trust your instincts and gut feelings, always.

if you are mistreated, it says way more about the person mistreating you, than you.

there is always, always a silver lining.

sometimes you have to go through the worst, to be at your best.

if you made it this far, i sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my 2017 sob story. i hope you gained something from it, and i hope you and i both have a kickass 2018.

[hellowallflowerfriend]

Dare to DREAM

“Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act.” - Albert Einstein

    I first met a person without documentation when I was in high school. I was carrying hot, silver trays of pizza alongside her, sweat dripping off my brow, calling out a diner’s name with increasing urgency. We made eye contact, a quick word, as we hustled through all five dining sections. Once free of our burning delivery, we servers frantically rubbed our hands, hoping there wouldn’t be blisters following our quest to deliver food to an absorbed dinner party. We did not talk about the guest’s laughter, “Oh, that’s me! Hope you didn’t pass me too many times! Ha-ha-ha!” 

    We both waited tables every weekend together, no matter the holiday, no matter the weather, no matter the game we were missing or birthday we weren’t celebrating. We grimaced through cursing customers, kept our lips closed through suspect behavior in the back of the house, and kept our noses mostly down.

     But, there was a separation between us, large enough to be a schism. Even though we scraped gum off of the underside of tables side-by-side, even though we both swept away the greasy napkins and half-eaten pizza slices our peers or peers’ parents dropped and didn’t bother to pick up, my coworker seemed so much older than me. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful, and she looked her age, but she carried herself with a matter-of-fact-ness that I had only seen in adults up to that point. She seemed a little more reserved, less likely to engage in silly teenage behavior like truth-or-dare, or prank phone-calling a crush at a sleepover.

    I remember when I came in to apply for the job, eating a salad and some wings with some friends, that freedom in sitting at the table that I so took for granted at the time. I had not told any of my friends, but I was eating free lunch at the school and was applying for the job so I could buy some soccer cleats. My dad had stopped paying child support, and if I couldn’t get those shoes from my parents, then I sure as heck was going to find a way. After all, I had college to plan for, and the more athletics, clubs, leadership positions, and awards I could put on my application, the better my hard-earned GPA would look.

    At this point, I was, “passing,” as cut from the same cloth as my wealthier, higher-achieving friends. We still had the house and the nice car, and I knew how to bargain shop and find nice-looking things at thrift stores. I paid my friend to give me rides to and from soccer, gave treats to friends who were able to give me a ride to or from work, and managed to save up enough money to pay for my first semester of books out-of-pocket in college.

    I remember posting to Facebook about which college I decided to go to, using waived SAT fees and application fees along the way. I looked for my coworker’s brother’s post about college: he killed it in Honors Chemistry, and I knew he had a pretty GPA. But, the post never happened. His older sister, despite her beautiful singing voice, her awesome grades, her maturity, her ability to ALWAYS BE WORKING… Lord, that girl could work… She sort of disappeared too.

    So I began to wonder. Here I am, rubbing shoulders with kids who drive better cars than I could even entertain the idea of purchasing for myself, given as gifts from parent-s-. Here I am, moaning to myself that I have to go to work after classes and follow with homework. Here I am, biting my tongue as I admit that I can’t afford to go out to dinner, and my friend asks, “Why don’t you just ask your parents?” It’s not that I was ashamed, it just wasn’t worth the awkward response I would get in reply. As hard as this is, begging the student aid employees to help me apply for another loan, because now with working 40-50 hours of an unpaid internship, I can’t afford to work 15-20 hours a week on top. As hard as this all is, being the person who is “passing,” in this world I feel I don’t fully belong in, this world of new sundresses for every football game, this world of pledging to organizations that have monthly fees, this world of blonde hair and Rayban sunglasses… I am still here.

    And one day, I realized why my coworker smiled less, worked harder, and kept to herself. She was not going to leave this life like I got to. I waited my last table about one year and two months ago. She is still scrubbing, biting her tongue, burning her hands, on her feet for hours, having no healthcare, not being able to buy glasses like I once was unable to… and on top of that, she may not be able to live here much longer.

    My friend is able to stay here in America because of DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, passed by President Obama through an executive order. This is supposed to have been because the DREAM (Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors) Act was not being passed through Congress.

    Let me tell you something. I have, in the jobs where I have sweated most, been yelled at most, been treated the least like a human, have walked my legs numb… in these jobs, I have met all the non-citizen second-generation people I know. I have met these people who moved here as children. I myself was born in Ohio, but if someone told me I had to move back tomorrow, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I would lose my job, have to say goodbye to friends and family I hold dear, and God knows how I would be able to finance a new life in this new state.

    Now imagine this in an entirely different country.

    In this country, people may speak a language you heard around the house occasionally, but may not know as well as English. You do not know where the safe parts of the city are, where the cheapest rent is, where the most honest employers can be found. You may not know the culture, the religion, the societal norms as well here. You do not call this place home.

    The place you call home will employ you, but only in jobs where there is little to no room for growth. Landscaper. Housekeeper. Waitress. Receptionist if you’re lucky. Some of these jobs will pay you under the table, but it will likely be a little less than what a “”””normal”””” worker would be paid, because after all, who can you tattle-tale to? And don’t worry, no matter how hard you work your ass off, no matter how seriously you take school, no matter how well-rounded, well-spoken, intelligent, kind, and good you are… you sure as hell can’t go to school. Look at how hard it was for me, and I had federal aid on my side. Tell me whose mother or father can afford to send his or her son to college on landscaping or housekeeping or construction wages.

    As a friend to some of these individuals, I am enraged. How can my friends continue to suffer? DACA is the bare minimum a person deserves in this life. DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals,) allows a child who immigrated here with his parents without papers to stay in America. DACA lets these individuals stay here, but at the cost of their own human rights. The right to fair and equal pay to peers. The right to healthcare offered through one’s career. The right to apply for federal monetary aid. The right for education to serve its intended purpose as THE GREAT EQUALIZER, meaning that if one works hard in school, s/he may use this hard work to pursue further education.

    My friends did not choose to come here without papers. My friends did not ask to toil their lives away. My friends did not ask to drive every two years to an office, to stand in line, to be shuffled through like cattle and stamped off as, “okay to continue to work,” as they obtain permits for their less-than careers that they know, in another life, they could have done better than.

    I did some research on how much it costs to obtain citizenship for one person in America. In 2017, the fee for ONE individual is $745. For a green card, it can cost about $1000, including fees. If someone is willing to leave all their family behind in pursuit of a better life, do you think they are able to afford this? If someone is willing to come here without following the proper steps, fleeing something or escaping poverty or suffering in some way, they live their lives as slaves to the land so that their children may have a better life. There is no luxury in being a person without papers.

    So Mother or Father suffers to obtain basic needs for the family, working hard hours, only for the cycle to REPEAT ITSELF despite said son- or daughter’s honest, hard work. The cycle repeats itself despite the fact that this son or daughter could literally not give consent to the move, and the son or daughter could not afford to live on his or her own.

    My fellow Americans, I think we can do better than DACA. I believe we can do better than letting children who were brought here stay here. I think we can give my friends, these humans who are worth so much more, have the basic rights that every documented American here reaps. I never chose to be American, just as my second-generation immigrant friends never chose not to be. The difference between us and me is that I have the right to go to college without paying the entire tuition out-of-pocket each month. I have the right to visit the hospital and know that my job offers benefits, so I will be okay. Myself, I am a DREAM-er, and my dream is to see my friends SB, SH, CR, JB, O(?), A(?) and VR have *half* the privilege I have inherited in my life. Maybe, just maybe, if I DREAM big enough, one day I’ll see their names finally written on that diploma they always deserved but were never allowed to receive.