U-turn: Phoenixville, Pennsylvania

3...2…1…Happy New Year! As any good non-serious blogger must do, I will revamp my blog for one last go around. Mind you it is New Year’s and I’m not in the best sense of mind. Many are contemplating their successes and failures over the past year and the changes they are hoping for next year. I’m not going to be much different.

I feel as if this year I grew up in a very different way. Suddenly, I was frustrated by environmental issues, love problems, and how this whole society functions. My struggles with religion and its place in the world have spiraled into a hatred that is hard to shake. My hopes have been snatched from me and my dreams replaced with dim glimmers of hope. This year I learned that I don’t want to be the person I thought I did, or the next person I thought of, or the next. Everything I ever knew about myself fell apart into a million little pieces on the floor and in an odd way I began picking up those pieces and reconnecting them into an even more beautiful picture. The heart that was full of success in mind is now full of wonder. My dreams of having a large bank account has crumbled into, is college really worth it? I’ve tossed around alternative ideas. Nothing has seemed to stick. I became a body with no motivation, no dreams, and hopes that maybe December 21^st, 2012 was really the end and none of these silly thoughts mattered.

The only thing I was sure of all throughout the year was “I needed a change”. That was the problem. I couldn’t pin-point what that change needed to be. College? Love life? Work? I tried them all.  Failure after failure I was graced with the amazing idea from a friend “MOVE OUT!” And so in late December our newest dream has begun to take shape. From Montreal, Quebec and Phoenixville, Pennsylvania we have the aspiration to move to Boston by January 2014. It’s about damn time too.

Something else that has been filling my heart and mind lately is finally changing how I look. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Since August I have lost 38 pounds. I’m on my way to the 130’s and I can’t wait to see where my weight loss journey takes me. It is one of the hardest obstacles I have ever taken on.

So, although I am ending this year as what feels like a failure, I have high dreams for 2014. Sure, 2013 will be spent preparing for 2014…but that’s half the fun. This year I will graduate community college. I will reach my ultimate goal weight. I’ll finally get the courage to move out. And who knows, maybe the love gap will fill in on its own.

I owe this year to my amazing family, fantastic friends, and incredible coworkers. Without them I would have been left on the streets to fend for myself, which we all know I would never have survived.

Happy New Year, Guys.  Here’s to turning around on our Journey to Regret.

Rewind and Fast Forward: Phoenixville, PA

The bass bumps against the doors of my Hyundai. My windows are rolled down and my sunglasses shade my eyes, showing me the world ahead in a softer tone. CDs made by old friends skip from being overplayed. I'm singing at the top of my lungs, because it's the only way to free myself from the reality that haunts me every day.

For the past year, I have barely touched this blog. I like to think that it's because I'm way too busy with school or work or maybe I just lost my touch at compelling writing. My image of myself is much different than it was a year ago. I used to think very highly of myself. I saw myself as an actress, an honor's student, and a great friend.  Over the past year though, these have been quickly escaping my grasp.

It's been more than a year since I've stepped on a stage. During my senior year my high school put on a production of "Steel Magnolias". I hadn't even second guessed (for too long) that I would make it. I had a lot of success in the past years and competitions with the drama department, and I'll be honest... I thought I was good. When I read down the cast list and saw my name was nowhere to be found I broke down inside. It was the beginning of becoming an adult for me. It was the first time I started realizing how unrealistic I was. I had big dreams of Boston and theater and doing what I loved, forever. Those dreams both quickly and slowly crumbled in front of my eyes as the days passed. I never forgave myself for that audition. For not only disappointing myself, but my family. It stripped me of my pride as an actress and stopped me from pursuing acting. I miss it so much. There is nothing better than the feel of the heat from the stage lights, the hushed whispers of an audience, the crew's smiles behind the set, the cast dinners, the hugs, the tears, the stress, everything. I'm hurt to see that part of my life fade away. Sometimes, it feels like it’s too late to turn back. I’d give anything for a second chance.

School used to be a strong point for me. No, I wasn't a straight-A student, but I was comfortable with my grades. Usually, I would get a few A's, some B's and maybe one C. It kept my confidence high enough to want to continue learning and trying. But that was high school. Now that I'm at college, the workload is more, and so is the free time. Often I find myself with a drink in hand, rather than a textbook. As a result, my grades began to slip faster and faster. Soon, I lost faith in myself. I have given up on trying and have accepted the fact that I'm no longer the student I once was. Slowly, I am starting to hate myself for being so stupid. For giving up. For being weak. Now, I'm in danger of failing, actually failing, a majority of my classes. I don't know what to do anymore, so I hide from it. The pressure is so deafening that I find any excuse to escape it. The resentment against who I am is building up quicker than I ever expected.

Which leads me to my next failure: being a great friend. Although I have kept up with many of my old friendships from the move, I've completely trashed one of the most important ones in my life. The relationship I have with myself. Constantly, I'm thinking horrible things about myself. I tell myself I'm ugly, stupid, annoying, and everything in-between. The negativity coming from school, work, and life in general is turning into my own personal torture chamber in my head. All my life I have loved myself more than most people love themselves. I've always felt confident in who I was and what I did, now-not so much. Never have I been the girl to rack in such low self-esteem, and suddenly that's changing. And it's scary.

All of these things have been building up over the past year. I've been failing at almost everything I used to be proud of. It hurts. And it sucks, for lack of a better term. I stopped writing because I feared to see it on paper. I didn’t want to be true, even if I know it is. I didn’t want to admit my faults, and I still am not ready. It's too much to handle all at once. So, I turn my radio up higher and wipe away my tears. I take these feelings bottle it deep down inside where no one can see the real me. Where no one can see the person that is beginning a horrible journey towards hating everything that I am.

Love in Review: Phoenixville, PA

I just realized how we ended up here. This whole time you’ve just been scared out of your mind. You were overwhelmed with the pressure from me. From the distance. You were too scared to tell me, to work it out. You were tired. You were so damn tired of it all. And I was blind. I couldn’t see the frustration. The agony, the loneliness in your eyes. We were five hundred miles apart, nine hours by car, four by plane. We were young. You had so much going on at home, and I was terrified about college. We were both working on us all the time.  You didn’t know how much it would hurt me. You only knew it felt right at the time. So you ran. You ran as fast and as hard as you could to anything, anyone.

She happened to be convenient. You knew her. She was by your side every night at work. She wasn’t five hundred miles away. She was beautiful. She is beautiful. So you took your chance. You grabbed on, kissed her, rubbed her, and went to bed with her. Her one year old was probably in the next room over. I was waiting at home to see you. But I was scarred too.

I was afraid I was holding you back from living life. I made you quit smoking, I changed you. I knew it too. And every day I hated myself for it. Because I knew it was wrong. I knew you’d go back. Because it was who you were and it was who I fell in love with. So why would I change that? I didn’t know, but I wanted you to be happy again. To be you again. I didn’t expect it to backfire so horribly. I had messed up too much for too long. I stripped away your originality. Your innocence. Your passion.

Before you ran I noticed you stopped going out, because all your other friends did things that I hated. Every day you made sacrifices for me.  Suddenly you stopped playing guitar. You stayed home all day to talk to me. I caged you. You stopped drawing. You seemed so unhappy. And I wanted so badly to make you happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just never knew how to do it. I didn’t realize I messed up so badly.

So I let you go out. And smoke. And do whatever you needed to do, to become you again. But this resentment built up in you. This anger. You had fought for this freedom for so long, and now you have it. Now you must escape while you can.

You did. She helped you escape me.

I cried for weeks. I ran out in the snow the day before Christmas. I was barefoot. I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. My mother screamed at me to come inside. My brother led me in and held me as I cried for so long and so hard. You were on your way to her house. I was alone.

I tried to kill myself the next day. I hated myself. I needed you to care about me again. I needed you to need me. That backfired too. I scared you shitless. You were crying in front of your mother. I was five hundred miles away, lying in my bed not wanting to live anymore. Not wanting to live without you.

I was too scared to continue. I thought maybe I could still get you back. I watched so many videos on “how to win back your ex.” I tried everything. But you were too scared. Too angry. And now you were free. Free to go out. Free to love without being pressured by hundreds of miles. Free to be who you wanted to be. You got caught up in the fun. You were now sharing responsibility of a one year old and you slept every night with her mother. I tried to get your attention anyway I could, but nothing worked.

I lost you.

I sent back everything you gave me. I changed my number. I was so depressed I didn’t apply to any colleges. I didn’t care about my future unless you were in it.

Months passed and I dated someone for a while. And while I enjoyed the distraction I still cried myself to sleep every night. I was still in love with you. I put on fake smiles every day. I kept my thoughts about you to myself as much as possible. I thought about you every day all day. I figured I’d move on soon. I’d forget about you, after all you were five hundred miles away.

But I never did get over you.

I got closer to my friends, who helped me tremendously. I succeeded in competitions plays. I took sign language. And I kept working. I tried to stay as busy as possible. I didn’t want to think about you. But no matter what I was doing you were on my mind. Four months later I hear that you are expecting your first child with the woman you cheated on me with. My life crashes in front of me. I realize you will never be mine again. I realize how stupid I was for hoping. How stupid I am for still hoping.

Six months later. I graduated high school and moved to Pennsylvania. I left behind my therapist, who had spent the last six months trying to help me understand you, and then forget you. I began to understand, but I never forgot.

I looked forward to a new state with new opportunities and people. I’ve met many, slept with a few, but no one compares to how I feel about you. With a baby on the way I’m certain you are terrified and excited. I’m in your past, maybe you think about me every now and then. But I am no longer significant to you. I am simply the girl who wouldn’t let go. Who stalks you on the internet and who emails you sometimes. And frankly, I’m rather annoying to you.

Your fiancé hates me. She wonders why I won’t move on. She thinks I’m obsessive. That I’m weird. And possibly that I’m psychotic. Maybe you think so too.

My birthday passes, all I want is to hear your voice. That won’t happen this year.

Your birthday passes and I send you a message “happy birthday.” No response.

It has been 364 days since you left me. Your baby is welcomed to the world. You ask for your girlfriend’s hand in marriage while she is in labor. You’re scared. You’re nervous. You don’t know what is right and what is wrong. But you think this is right. You don’t want that baby to wonder. To ask questions. You want her to know who her mom and dad are. So you ask. “Will you marry me?” She responds between contractions “It’s about time!”

You tie the knot in March. It has been over a year since you left me alone in the snow crying. Over a year since you ran away as fast as you could. You were so scared. Terrified. But you made your choice and stuck by it.

I see the pictures. I see the fear in your eyes. The tiredness pulling on your face. You’re tired of guessing what’s wrong and what’s right. You’re tired of running and tired of being scared. You think you made the right choice. You love her. You’re madly in love with her. You love your baby and her two year old. You have your own family. How could you leave? But now you’re feeling trapped again. Slowly your identity is being torn away. You are now a father. A husband. And you’re only twenty-one. She’s only eighteen.

And you’re still scared. And I’m still in love with you. And tonight I realized it doesn’t matter how many kids you have or how many wives you marry throughout your life. I wouldn’t care on your 30^th wedding anniversary. No matter what I will never forget you, I will never spend a day out of love with you. I would never miss an opportunity to have you back. I will forever love you unconditionally.

Maybe I am psychotic. Maybe I am crazy. But if given the chance to try again, I would love you for you. I would never try to change you. I would be on your side and we’d even out the playing field. You’d be happy and that would be my first priority. I’m hopelessly in love with you. And I know you’re scared.

If you need a place to run, I’ll be here.

Settling down: Richmond, VA; Phoenixville, PA

          Empty boxes are folded down in a pile. Tuition has been paid, my new job is rolling. A routine is setting back into my life. Favorite restaurants have been scouted, and the fastest route to work and back has been found.
         I look back on this month and let out a sigh of relief. My life zoomed into fast forward to the point where I forgot to live. Working is my addiction. I love to be on the floor moving and adding to my sales. That exhilarating feeling when I find a customer a good deal or start them on a healthier path. The smile on my manager's face brightens my own. When days are slow I still am happy to be doing something useful with my time. But, there are moments when I pause and I stare at the floor. I miss the familiarity of home, of Richmond, VA.
           After my first few pay checks and some extra birthday money, I packed my bags and took the five hour drive to the place I called home for 16 years of my life.A reunion with my brothers and sister in law sparked the beginning of my journey. It isn't until I sat down with them that I was overwhelmed with how much I missed seeing them so often. We shared stories and caught up on work and family issues. We laughed about how nothing has changed and we smiled as we discussed seeing each other soon. As the waitress came over to sing me one of the most embarrassing birthday songs ever, I blushed, but smiled. My brothers still cared (although I'm sure Brittany had something to do with it). We all hugged and smiled as we parted and I headed to my next destination.
              It's funny what a month away can do to a relationship. Before I left we worked so hard to let our guards down and come closer to each other. We fought and struggled but soon enough, we got there. Coincidentally, we got there just a few weeks before I moved. Coming home, I had no idea what to expect from him. And trust me, I'm a girl built on expectations. Hugs were exchanged and small talk was made. I laughed on the inside as I realized I was filled with the same butterflies I had months ago for him. I waited for something, anything to happen. Like a little girl waiting for her first kiss. As the hours moved along, I became more anxious. Maybe I had changed. Maybe there was someone else who he never mentioned. Maybe he changed his mind about me. The moment that erased those fears was so tiny, I wonder if anyone else would have noticed. Our movie started later than expected and we went to the bookstore around the corner to kill time. We browsed across books that didn't interest either of us too much and I patiently waited for anything to happen. Soon my hopes began to diminish as we headed downstairs to gaze at magazines. I think I counted 20 knitting magazines, that can't be healthy. We made our way over to the boy magazines about guns and cars and fishing and other things men use to seem like they have more testosterone then they really do. After a few minutes we sat down in front of the rack and I leafed through pages I wasn't reading. All I could think about was holding his hand. Kissing him. Anything. I got up and looked for a different magazine. For a split second I looked back expecting him to be looking down, but instead he was looking at me. Gently looking at me. At that point, I could care less what happened for the rest of the time. Sure I wanted more physicality, but if not, that one look would do. Because I knew he still cared, and he did miss me. Whether he'll admit it or not.
          I left him wanting more, but I knew I had to leave eventually. Next stop? My cat. I could not tell you the hours upon hours of missing my cat, Monster Kitty. I drove home in search of her, to pet her and to kiss her again. With open arms I was welcomed into her new home. They updated me on how she was doing and we traded information before I moved on to see my best friends (minus Jana and Cassandra).
          They smiles, the laughs, the screams of joy and excitement. So much joy filled my heart that night. I was blessed to spend time with the people that mean the most to me. I got a second chance to see my best friend before she moved to Hawaii. And before Chris starts college. It was a night I'll never forget, full of inside jokes and heartfelt memories.A last glimpse at my best friend before I left her and last words that couldn't have been expressed better. That was the hardest part, saying goodbye to my best friend of six years, Haley. Soon she will pack her bags and board a plane and who knows when I'll ever see her again. At this point, whether I think it's a mistake or not it doesn't matter. She's going. It's terrifying to never know when I'll see her again, and even more terrifying knowing how difficult it will be to see her. Knowing our past is hope for the future. I'm not sure if she ever understood the strength she gave me everyday. She has been the most caring and supportive friend. She's seen me struggle and cry, she's seen me through break ups and happiness. She knows my darkest secrets and I know hers. I hope she finds happiness and strength in her future. I hope the best for her and I hope she knows I will always be here for her.
            It's hard to move on in life, to set mile stones and pick up the pieces. I've noticed over this past month how important the little moments are. The last goodbyes, or the little looks. A moment of joy seeing my cat again, and a touch of heartache as I go on my way back to my new life. The tiny moments make up the best of my life. If the tiny parts are glorious, then there is always beauty in the big picture. I look back onto my past and smile. It hasn't always been easy, but because of the people who have helped me along the way, I've lived it to it's fullest so far, and I don't plan to stop anytime soon.
Good luck in Hawaii Haley, be safe, smile, and don't forget to call. Aloha.
"Because I knew you, I have been changed, for good" -Wicked; For Good
        

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back: King of Prussia, PA

       The edge of my eyes beg to close, and my eyelashes feel like a hundred pounds each. Measurements fly through my head of prices and sales. New sales pitches grabs at the ends of my brain pushing for attention. The past week has consisted of setting up for school, figuring out Pennsylvania's DMV (it's way more complicated than Virginia...), and of course, tea. After being offered a position to work at a local tea store I jumped at the opportunity. I'm more than excited to get back working and it's a chance to meet new people. I walk in to do the final paper work. Afterwards,  my new manager smiles and hands me a 200+ page manual. I keep the smile tight on my face and walk to my car. Upon my arrival I sit in the hot air and stare at it. Sixty pages needed to be finished by Monday, today is Friday. I drive home trying to fathom about what in the hell could contain 200 pages other than Grey's Anatomy or The Bible?
      Turning the pages I discovered the wonderful world of tea. I don't remember the past two days outside of the manual. Every moment I was awake I was immersed into it, learning different types of tea, memorizing their health benefits, and working on sales pitches. Slowly, I felt passionate about this product and the amazing benefits of it. I laugh as I notice how I moved from something that slowly kills you (Italian food) to basically liquid medicine. Tea has a solution for almost any physical or mental imbalance you might have. But, I'm not trying to sell through my blog, so enough about tea.
      I need to register for classes, and reschedule my financial aid meeting because of work, and tons of other things beginning to pile up. My blog went untouched for a week and Facebook views were limited. This new job is taking over my life. It seems horrible, but I smile. See, I'm a workaholic. Working is what I do best. Pushing to perfect my work and become the best I can be is my hobby. Being a workaholic can ruin lives, but when you're young-I don't think there is anything better. Plus, this is exactly what I needed.
     Lately, depression has been creeping up my back and into my head. I can't rid it. I've been focusing on my loneliness and my failed relationship that broke apart six months ago. Not even my friends could fill this void that was growing stronger in me. I begin to go insane, checking old emails from him and stalking his Facebook, staring at his pictures, missing him. I've worked so hard to let him go, but my efforts are worthless. I stare at my white walls and dream about being with him again. My mind wonders into a world where I know what he is thinking, if he really is happy, and if he ever thinks of me.  His new girlfriend keeps him on a leash shorter and tighter than I did. There is absolutely no way for me to contact him, without her getting it first. Except if I went there, and trust me, I've toyed with that idea more than a hundred times. I miss him, I wish I could fix what I messed up, I wish I could have been right for him like he is right for me. But, now I watch his life through pictures. Far, far away from me he sleeps next to her. He loves her. While I sleep alone, and I love him. My eyes drop from my white walls and back to the manual.
      A job allows me to forget these things, at least for the moment. It allows me to focus on myself and build my esteem as I push sales and make managers proud. With all of the free time I had, it was impossible to avoid this depression. Now, I can push it away and I move into a new world. A world that he doesn't know about, a world I wish he was in, but he's not. Even as I write this, I hope somehow he comes across it and he gets the courage to talk to me, even if it makes her mad. My hopes are high while my expectations are low.
       He's never far from my mind and he tends to be the body of each tear that falls from my eye. Although I struggle everyday without him, I become stronger each day. Each day I become more independent. Each day I force myself to stand tall and smile, because it isn't the end of the world. It's just a dent in my dreams. And dents can be filled and fixed with time.
        The edges of my eyes now tug with tears rather than exhaustion. I look down at the floor and wipe the tears away, wipe him away, at least for tonight. Tonight, I am strong.

A Change in Plans: Philadelphia, PA; Phoenixville, PA

        I bounce down the stairs elated to be wearing red, white and blue. Pulling back on my blinking pacifier and pushing sunglasses past my bangs, I smile. My family has decided to head into Philadelphia to watch the spectacular fireworks over the Delaware River. My excitement is barely containable as I reminisce about my last trip to Penn's Landing. Fireworks burst across the sky as the gentle waves lapped against the concrete walls. New Jersey was captured in an array of colors and shades. I began loving my dad again. I couldn't wait to go back. As we board the train my mother immediately slips into a bad mood. She wanted to drive into Philadelphia, but my dad wasn't ready to bear the traffic and stress of parking. Plus, the train was fun, it was different. I ignore her as I press my headphones into my ear. I let Taylor Swift calm my growing belligerence and watch as the cities and towns pass my window.
       Once we land at 5th street I can not wait to get into the city. Pushing my way past pedestrians I soak up the history surrounding me. I stood where independence was created. I saw the Liberty Bell and heard out actors as they explained what this independence meant for new found America. Hiding my excitement from my family I gazed into any windows I could find and read glimpses of everything available. Soon, my brother starts looking upset. He wanted to eat at Gino's or Pat's or something. He only came into the city for the famed Philly Cheesesteak. Which I couldn't blame him, but I wanted more. I looked down disappointing, was I the only one who appreciated history anymore? Shoving my wants back down my throat I agree to whatever makes them happy. I wasn't in the mood for a fight.
     Cobblestone roads and loose brick paths lead us to Sonny's. "Authentic Philly Cheesesteaks" read the sign, we shrugged and headed through the tiny green door. They. were. delicious. Seriously, Philly isn't known for Cheesesteaks for nothing. As I swallow mine as if it's a contest, my dad and I hail praise to the last time we went to Penn's Landing. We talked about the amazing fireworks and music and how the porter potty didn't have toilet paper. Taking our own advise, we all went to the bathroom before we left, my mom before me. When she comes back to the table she leans over to me,
"I stole some toilet paper just in case" she whispers.
Laughter beings bellowing out of my mouth and fell onto the tiled floor. My mom is ridiculous. I venture into the bathroom and when I finish peeing I reach for the toilet paper. There is almost none left, like seriously, it isn't even 2 ply! I walk out and whisper harsh accusations at my mom, we laugh all the way to Christ Church. After a few more stops, we head to Penn's Landing. I can't wait to show my mom and brother how perfect it is. I walk with an extra bounce in my step, until I see it. "No Fireworks July 4th" reads a white sign with plastered red letters. What the fuck, is that even legal to say? In the homeland of independence, next to Independence Hall, the freaking Delaware River, we're surrounded by what built this country and we can't even celebrate it? Sigh. My family turns and stares at each other. Well, we weren't expecting that. After a nice, awkward moment, we begin moving away from the disappointing river and back to the train station.
       No one speaks on the ride home, we suddenly become extremely tired. But, I'm busy people watching. I watch as the men and women respond to each other and their environment, as Taylor Swift once again keeps me company. Gazing upon each passenger I wonder what their story is. Did they fall in love and get left suddenly, like I did? Did they try to start their own business? Or loose their family in a fire? Do they wish someone would just talk to them? Who are these people? I'm absolutely convinced that everyone has a story to tell.
    On the way to Philadelphia, it hit me. I stare at one man, he's older probably his 70's. He has taken out his wallet and is staring at a ticket or receipt. His hands tremble softly as he puts it back in it's creased brown home. He lifts himself to one side and pushes it into his back pocket, buttoning it. The man stares out the window, he has a soft smile that tugs at the sides of his cheeks. I want to know him. I want to know all about his first love, and what his dreams were. If they came true. I want to know the places he's been and his craziest adventure. I want to know his favorite memory, what makes him happy, and his beliefs. Breaking my gaze I look at my hands. I decided right then, I want to be a journalist. At 2:15pm July 4th, I realized what I want to do. One day before my placement test for college.
      The train halts as it pulls into Norristown Transportation Center. My eyes follow the passengers as they exit the train. Curiosity still tugging at my brain. My family piles into the car and we start heading home. Their holiday was ruined, but I wasn't going to let mine fall apart. When I get home, I take my car to downtown Phoenixville. Earlier, I was invited to go watch a band and fireworks at a local restaurant. As I drive down Gay Street Bridge I see many families heading in the opposite direction. Still, I moved forward and tried to find parking near the restaurant. No luck. My day seriously refused to work out. A new idea pops into my head and I head back home. I grab a bag and stuff two water bottles, a blanket, and a shit bag. Clipping Sparky's leash to his collar, we head out.
     Soon enough, Sparky and I are following families up the street and into Friendship Park (I know, it's cute). We settle down into a spot when I notice Sparky's leg is shaking uncontrollably, he's slipping, he looks scared. This is my baby. I start walking him again and he seems fine. Being as determined as I am, he will see a vet soon. Gazing around for somewhere to go, I spot a white cart in the distance. Pertucci's is a local ice cream place and they had a cart out in the field. I bought a Cherry Water Ice and walked Sparky past the adoring crowd. Sitting against a light pole, I watch Sparky and his movements. He stays close, he's a good boy. I give him a million kisses and pour out the rest of my water ice, filling up the cup with water. Sparky doesn't care. Instead, he knocks over the cup towards me (I'm sitting remember?), knocks over my phone into the water and looks away. What a dick. I grab my phone and pick up the blanket stashing it back into the bag. Suddenly, I don't think Sparky should be here. I remember dogs have more acute hearing, I'm an  idiot. I start taking Sparky home. Before I'm two steps away, the first firework explodes. Shit. Sparky looks terrified and begins walking pretty fast past people and children. My butt's wet. I'm excusing my dog and myself as the crowd looks to the sky and not where they're walking. Children try to grab at Sparky as I move him further from the noise. After an exciting walk, we get home. I run upstairs and throw on next to nothing and go outside. I can see the fireworks from my front yard.
     I lean against a pole and watch the explosions in the sky. I smile as I look back on my day. I never thought I'd end up here. A wet ass, in my pajamas, in my front yard, a newly decided journalist major. It's funny how things work out that way. There were some disappointments along the way, but as I gaze into the sky, it was all worth it. A small laugh escapes my lips, "Welcome to Pennsylvania" I think to myself. Who knew this is where I'd land? I sure didn't.
Happy Independence Day, and may you plans never go the way they should.

Rolling Along: Phoenixville, PA

      Out of the corner of my eye I see my Dad's mouth get wider, he's becoming red and his eyebrows are pushed together in an angry sort of way. I turn away and stare out the window as the rolling hills past by my tired eyes. A new song blasts onto my IPod, I look down to change it to something calmer. Now I watch as my brother builds his defense against my father. He's in the backseat with me. His eyes are growing wider, he's being attacked and he knows it. I turn back away, he'll give up soon, we all do. My father grabs his Coke Zero in a hostile manner and the all to familiar cringe crawls up my back. Quickly, I turn up my music, I sit straighter, and I try not to show my unbearable discomfort. It's going to happen I thought, not here I begged some unknown universal power, not now, please. I dig my nails softly into my palm. I can't avoid it.
        This horrifying event has happened to me since I was ten years old. I've struggled with anxiety for what feels like forever. I wasn't diagnosed with actually having "panic attacks" or "anxiety disorder" until last September.
        It goes way back to a story about Elizabeth Smart, maybe you remember her, you probably don't. In 2002 a little girl was kidnapped from her bed in the middle of the night. Nine months later, she emerged from her captors grasp, the world couldn't believe she was alive. She has spent 9 horrifying months being a slave for a horrible man 18 miles away from her original home in Salt Lake City, Utah. Little did she and her family know this would cascade me into the terrifying world of anxiety. My new fear was being kidnapped and abused. For the majority of my sixth grade year, I slept on my parents bedroom floor. Often subject to my head and feet being tripped over as they made their way to the bathroom in the pitch black. This wasn't working for any of us. After a few months of intensive therapy I made my way back to my bed. Noise was the solution. I needed noise to distract my from the moans and shivers of my house. For a few years we kept a TV in my room to distract me, but I couldn't fall asleep.
      Eventually, my anxiety found new ways to ruin my life. Suddenly, I could not stand the sound of people eating. My brother's loud and messy ways of eating, physically hurt me. A pain in my back would tighten, I'd sit more still, I had to focus on it. These torturous dinners lead to tearful eyes and screaming fights. No one understood what was going on.
      My parents took me from therapist to therapist to find a solution. Nothing worked. By eighth grade I couldn't stand to be in a room where someone was chewing gum, and this was a huge problem at school. I couldn't focus and I experienced attack after attack for a tiring eight hours a day.
      There was no letting up with my anxiety as I entered high school, I dove into online relationships where they too suffered from my disorder. The growing anxiety lead to my desperate need for constant attention, especially at night. Even into my teenage years I still feared being kidnapped, I still do. My boyfriends would help me through attacks, but eventually they got sick of them too. They didn't understand these emotions, they all left.
       It got so intense that my mind went haywire. I began using my anxiety to make my boyfriends pity me to stay with me. I missed Thanksgiving dinners with family, and mostly ate alone in my room for every family meal. I avoided restaurants and movie theaters and church. I hated going to school, and glared at people chewing gum. My IPod became my essential tool for avoiding attacks. Just thinking about having an attack lead to one.
      Most people never knew about my anxiety, it was something that I never wanted to share with people.
But, I think it's a big part of who I am. I've gotten a lot better at controlling it, although the move has been stressful. I've learned how to control my attacks in public. I may have had one in front of you, and unless you watched my hands, you would have never known. Sign language helped me finger spell my emotions so that I could release the tension physically and constructively. When that didn't work, I would dig my nails into my skin to build a distraction. The pain was nothing compared to the physical pain I endured internally during an attack. Hurting myself outwardly helped me internally.
      I decided to write this and finally become public with my anxiety for many reasons. As I went through high school  I met many people who had struggled with the same thing, some more intense than others. Many people who struggle with panic disorder don't realize there's a cure other than Xanax or other medications. I had to change my lifestyle to become better. My parents never allowed me to get on any medication for it. I had to tough it out and become creative. First, I mapped out what made me anxious. After I removed those, or changed how I handled those situations, I breathed easier. It was always important to me to have a way out of every situation. I needed a "safety". Instead of relying on people, I relied on myself with my car and phone. I figured how to mask my anxiety when I wasn't alone. It hurt, but it saved me from many, many ugly situations. The most important thing I did to help my anxiety was to admit I had it, and admit that I could change. If I gave into my anxiety I would have been in some deep shit right now. With no friends, my family would be sick of me, and I'd probably be living in my room.
      For those of you who have experienced the same horrifying feeling, please know you are not alone. Some nights, it got bad, so bad that I thought I would die, or that dying would be easier. I've been there. I've had attacks I should have been hospitalized for. You are not alone. There is help out there. After a few bad therapists and sleepless nights, I stumbled upon an amazing therapist who helped me overcome most of my anxiety and helped me become a better and happier person (If you want her number, just ask.) Since then, I've lived my life to the fullest. I've had sleepovers and have been to many restaurants. I've enjoyed movies and could eat with my family without my IPod. You can change, it's a disorder not a disease. I hope by sharing my story, you'll be inspired to seek help. For those of you who don't encounter massive anxiety attacks on a daily basis, you're lucky. Help out those who need an ear to listen. Don't be afraid to suggest help. Those with anxiety, welcome the help. You have to want to change for it to work.
     I look back at my brother, he's given up. My dad stares out the front window, his arms are tense. My mom is fed up. I take my nails out of my palm. I escaped it. I breath easier. Not today, anxiety, not today. I smile to myself and watch the clouds pass. Today, I am safe.