Wildflower

My husband recently asked me if I would want to go back to high school if I could and do it all again/over. Without hesitation, I answered, "Hell no." Don't get me wrong. I didn't have a BAD high school experience, necessarily. I made some close friends and didn't get teased or bullied except for the rare occasion from that student that is just a douche to pretty much everyone, but you can pretty much tell that it's because their life at home is terrible. I earned decent grades, was in choir and Teen Institute, babysat on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, and went to football games a couple of times a year. I was obsessed with boy bands and doodling my crush's name throughout notebooks. My best friend and I would spend almost every Friday night together at one of our homes. I didn't try a drink until well after high school was over. I was a religious fanatic, as I was raised to be. I asked people to please not swear around me. I went to a conference every summer with my youth group to gain leadership skills and, mainly, more biblical knowledge and renew the fire. This worked up to my last year.

I graduated high school in 2001. I was 17 years old. That summer I began to challenge everything I had been taught to believe my whole life. I began to search for myself. I remember being seven years old and standing in the bathroom at the church school I attended, staring into my own eyes in the mirror and just sobbing. I didn't know why. I remember throughout high school sitting in front of the mirror in my room, staring into my own eyes, blaring Reflection by Christina Augilara and asking myself, "Who IS this girl??" It felt like I was looking into someone else's eyes. I couldn't make sense of it.

I searched for such a long time for "myself." I wanted labels and I wanted to be able to compartmentalize myself. I wanted to be able to sit down with a clean piece of paper and write down WHO I WAS. As time went by, I realized I didn't have to do that. I don't have to limit who I am by words. I don't have to fit a mold. I don't have to fit into neat little boxes. I've learned, above everything, that every minute of every day I am only growing and changing and what I was yesterday, I may not be today and THAT IS OK. I like myself more every day. I am becoming more and more true to myself.

I have struggled immensely with coming to terms with how I was raised. It has been a part of my roller coaster. I will feel like I have finally accepted everything and let go of resentments and then something will happen or I will speak with someone and those feelings of hurt and anger and...grief, really...will punch me in the stomach again. I know that my parents, like most parents, did the best job they knew how to do. They did as much as they could with what they were given. Their childhoods were not the greatest, either, and they were from the generation where you didn't talk about it. You kept your head up and pretended everything was just great. As long as everything looks good to the outside world (read- church), everything will be fine. This is not me.

I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am emotional and I don't stuff that down. I say what is on my mind. If you hurt me or make me angry, I will take my time to think of how to express my feelings best, and will confront you about it. Things aren't always fabulous. Things aren't even always just ok. Sometimes things suck! I was raised where prayer can fix everything and anything and if it doesn't, then that is God's way of telling you "No." I prayed constantly through high school. I prayed walking through the halls at school. I prayed at the bus stop. I prayed laying in bed sobbing for no reason. I prayed while I wrote a letter to all my family and friends just in case I died. If I wasn't so religious and didn't think suicide was the ultimate sin, that letter could have been considered a suicide note. I didn't want to DIE, exactly, I just didn't want to be here anymore.

I don't blame my parents for missing all of the signs that I was depressed. They had their hands full with my autistic brother, full time jobs, and further education. The squeaky wheels get the oil, and I was silent. I locked myself away in my room most of the time. I don't know if they ever wondered what I was doing in there. I was usually sleeping. I slept a lot. I would come home from school, scarf down food and watch soaps until I saw my mom pull into the driveway or until I went to get my autistic brother off the bus, then I would head upstairs and go to sleep until dinner. Then I would talk to my best friend on the phone in my room, and get on the computer for the rest of the night.

On the computer, I met my now husband. I was fascinated by his attitude. The first time we "spoke", he asked my at the end of the conversation if he had made me smile. His goal in life was to make everyone he met smile at least once. That stuck with me and is what made me want to talk to him again and again. In college I was laying on the floor crying to him on the phone, and he told me that my happiness was the most important thing. That stuck with me. He still tells me that today. I had never really considered it before.

To that point I wasn't really making choices, officially, in my own life. I mean, I was, but not conscious ones. I was more reacting to my circumstances. As children and teens, there is only so much you can control. Your environment and your family is your environment and your family. I was such a thinker, I would see my schoolmates making these terrible choices to completely violate any rules. When I even thought about doing that, I could just see things getting worse and worse. I didn't even talk back. I was so used to being seen and not heard, any of my "childish" opinions being wrong, and adults being the ultimate authority that I never even thought about straying. I wrote letters to my parents about difficult things. I couldn't verbalize to them. I needed to organize my thoughts and not be present when they were put forth. By the time I began questioning things, I didn't feel I could speak about my doubts. I didn't know where to look for council. Everyone surrounding me would only be critical and aghast at my searching for my own truth instead of blindly accepting the "truth" that had been put upon me since conception.

As I searched, I felt a constant rage and turmoil inside of me to the point that I couldn't focus on anything else. My whole foundation was crumbling, and that made me extremely unstable. Since my own truth, whatever it was going to be, was no longer that of the community (again, read- church) my family and I were surrounded by, I was no longer fully accepted. I was whispered and prayed about. I no longer wished to be a part of that community but since I still lived with my parents, was forced to continue to be present in it physically. The only place I found solace at this point was in a relationship. At one point, I was so unstable and unhappy that my boyfriend and his family at the time realized how badly I needed to be out of my living situation. This was the beginning of me truly discovering my truth because I was finally truly free to do so.

The journey since then has been incredible. There were several more years of me trying to discover HOW to find my truth. My depression has had many ups and many lows. Once I moved to Jacksonville to be with my husband, I finally had some true sunshine and bright spots in my life. I found the perfect place to grow!!! I feel like I have blossomed. I am happy in my skin. I am happy with who I am and what I don't believe in. I am trying to create, with my husband, an environment where my children can express themselves and find their own truth. I see the relationships that friends have with their parents and I want to make sure that my children can have that with us when the time comes. I want to be supportive of their choices, even if they are not what I would choose. They are not me. They are their own people and I want them to choose their own path. I want to be able to be present for that. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my own parents. I wish they were my closest friends, biggest supporters, and greatest acceptors. I have yearned for that my entire life. I cannot change the things that are, though, and I have learned through time that the only person I can control is me. My sister often says, "You have to meet people where they are." I have come to accept myself and my family relationships for what they are, but I am hell bent on making sure that my own family dynamic is different.

I'm a wildflower, and my winds of change have turned me into the person I am today. I love myself (most of the time) and I love my life. I love the people I have chosen to surround myself with. I love that I have finally been able to chase my dream, and that I have proven pretty damn good at it. How much more will I bloom? I am enjoying nurturing myself and am excited to see the continuing changes and growth.