Once upon a time, a freakin’ awesome individual was born. Chocolate brown eyes, a cute smile, and great hair. Her name was Queen. She was born with a different name but noone ever used it. 😉
This person went through a lot of BS and rose up to become the most awesomest person ever, everyone loved her, she lived a rewarding fulfilling life, she changed the world, she accomplished everything she wanted to do and overcame all her medical challenges- accompanied by the cutest dog ever. The End.
I wish I could write that. I wrote this blog to write my story and sometimes I wonder if it’s a mistake for me to share my story. If people won’t like it.
And then I do it anyway.
But here’s always my first question (insert the Queen instead of Regina George)
Let’s start with she’s a fighter. I know that about myself. Just last night when I was laying there wide awake until midnight crying and holding onto Oniiichan my stuffed panda, I started to wonder, how the hell did I get through the past 2 1/2 years. In fact, how have I gotten through this life so far? Is there some magic trick that sets apart the people who make it through these challenges and the ones who don’t?
Some people try a disappearing act. They cower at the face of their problems. They choose to value others opinions, beliefs, and lifestyle choices over their own. Their identity gets lost in the crush of voices that envelop them. It’s like standing in a hallway in high school and everyone around you desperately trying to figure out who they are so they just talk louder and louder and will try almost anything to feel belonging in that crowd. They don’t realize that the one similarity is that we are all different.
Me, on the other hand, as I am now a slightly wiser 20ish year old, tend to get this response when people shove at me to live their way
Because yeah, I have a life to live, don’t get in my way.
When I got all these medical problems. Anorexia nervosa. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Depression. The freakin’ mood swings. The irregular periods. The tibial stress fracture, my focus had to switch from what everyone else wanted, what the church
Excuse me youtube I did not ask you to autoplay stop it.
Back to my point.
I came to the point where I realized that my very survival was in the pushback. None of these people in my life, as caring or as uncaring as they were, were going to fight for me as hard as I was going to. It’s not necessarily other people’s fault. Life happens. We get too busy, too caught up in our own lives, so people we would normally drop everything for recede into the woodwork.
I realized I couldn’t wait for a metaphorical prince charming.
And truth is when I was being raped in my room, with my little sister in the room, all I was thinking about was her. And in the aftermath, when things got really really bad, I was thinking about my family. I was thinking about my mom and her own demons. I was thinking about my dad and his stress from work. I was thinking about my friends and their dating lives and them needing a place to fit in and trying to be that home they didn’t have at home. I was trying to be for everyone else, what I didn’t feel I had in anyone else. A home. Someone who would fight for you and protect you as well as making life oh so much better than it was without that person.
I wanted to become the unforgettable, perfect friend.
My schedule during the onset of the anorexia, PTSD, and depression was of course, the insomnia from nightmares, and then waking up early (after waking up 4 other times at inhuman hours) and I went to classes hungry, took my notes, took the tests, scored. Did tennis class, and then after I came home from school I would start dinner-most days, sometimes my family had to because I was done- and cleaned and went out for a long, good, clean run. Then I came home and practiced my violin/or had a violin lesson, finished making dinner and went through an episode of Chopped almost every night. (My family members each have a very refined palette). And that was the only meal I really got in a day and it was because home food was comfort food and because my family was watching. I wanted everything to seem normal.
Obviously that didn’t do me many favors.
I put up with being told I was a whore, and a slut and with all the names the rapist called me and everything he forced me into- out of the desire to protect my sister. I put up with going to church because at the time I believed it was the right thing to do. I put up with my own proclivities to be so hard on other people for not upholding the standards of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I put up with never being enough for the people in my life. I was so lost in other people’s expectations it was literally killing me.
So there you go.
The only reason I’m alive today, the only way I’ve been able to make this life happen, is because I decided to fight for me.
People write thousands of self-help books but I think something we don’t realize is just how important it is that we get on our own team and tell our story. Or, as my tribe member Sis Obanon put it
She is so, so, sooo amazing. Real talk, she should be president of the United States and as far as I’m concerned she is Oprah’s secret, badass twin.
What triggered this decision to stand up, besides the incredible effort life’s hit squad team just put in to try to take away everything I have, was me running out of a Religion 250 class to have a complete temper tantrum. Complete with my tearing up a copy of the “honor code dress code” flyer posted all over the school and me using some very naughty words… Loudly. And punching some doors. And hitting some doors so hard that they knocked a hole in the wall when they swung back.
And I didn’t give much of a damn who heard me throw a fit at that point.
That room wasn’t very soundproof either.
I am so, soo fed up with not feeling like even my own body belongs to me. I’m tired of screaming in the only ways I know how and not feeling heard. There’s just not enough room inside me to contain everything going on.
And TBH my stuff could cut off my life forever. It’s about my health and my future.
I feel a great pressure to be silenced. And that’s why I wrote this blog. Because I don’t really do control all that well. I shove back. And I’ve been that way since I was born. I have always always fought for myself above all else. Even when I get it shoved up in my face and I’m confused about if it’s still “right” to push back, eventually, I get there.
I started writing this post weeks ago but my life is the next Grey’s Anatomy. I need 300 episodes. For instance, going to treatment in CA and being dubbed “The Unicorn” because the consensus behind it was Hannah is a rainbow unicorn. She’s a mythical creature and noone really knows what to make of her and she is plenty awe-inspiring, but in a way that sets me up to deal with a lot of opposition.
My guyfriend says I’m a, what was it, ferocious mustang. No wait, the wild and strong mustang
I can see that.
Asides my egotistical ramblings today is not bad so far. I’m feeling a bit better and actually a lot better since I had that dr appointment yesterday and she was like “Your month long period is just stress” the bad news about that is that the longer this goes on, it means my hormones are jacked up, and last time that happened, I got a tibial stress fracture. And tibial stress fractures have the highest probability of refracturing.
Oh my gosh just so much is going on I wanted to write about yesterday and getting ready for Moani Ke Ala hula festival but I just do not have time and it’s too many words. But today a guy who I’ve known for actually a long time, but not been close with, he asked me how I was doing. And thanks to social media, I know he’s been checking in with me on that. A tip for finding out how I really am, is that I’m not great at expressing how I’m feeling face to face, I’m more comfortable with writing and I write through social media. We just had a quick conversation and he listened and he gave me a hug.
You know, last night, when I was AWAKE at 1:00 am and I prayed for a hug. And you know what this guy did today, he gave me a hug.