Well hello there, it's been a while.
Things have really changed for me these last few months. I am finally getting enough sleep to function like a human being! High five!
I love my job. I love love love it. I love my coworkers, I love my commute, I don't even care that it's so long, because I'm excited to go to work. Even when things are tense, even when they make fun of me, I know it will all be okay. We're a family, a unit. Or I am just eccentric and really just so appreciative to have the opportunity to really enjoy what I am doing. And be able to grow, and learn, and be a person who just tries to be better every day.
Things are good. Really really good for me.
Sure, hardships are still happening. But with sleep, this blog, therapy, work, my loved ones and medicine-- I feel stronger than I ever have.
Now on to the reason (ha) I decided to write this post. This is my warning, it's going to be heavy. You do not have to read this. Seriously, I will even help you out. If you are easily triggered, or easily feel uncomfortable stop reading right now. I have absolutely no problem sharing my history, but you might just not want to know. Now. Seriously stop. Okay?
So Netflix aired 13 Reasons Why based on the book with the same title. I had been waiting for this for a while, actually, because I am a huge fan of the book. It's one of my all time favorites. I secretly hoped someone would buy the rights to a visual format adaptation. And my God, Netflix thank you for crushing it. Like light on a diamond, intensified the book I fell in love with and made it shine. I wouldn't change a thing. The characters were so vivid and interesting and so relatable. Perfect, it was just perfect.
Stories like this matter. They certainly do to me. To returning readers, you would know that I had a difficult past. I've told bits and pieces but there are parts... Parts that only 3 or 4 people in my entire life know. Parts that I left out till now. Parts where... I knew exactly how Hannah felt.
5th grade, I was a cheerleader. I had been for years. I quit half way through the year because of bullying. The popular boys, my childhood best friend included, decided I was no longer cool. I don't really remember why. He went through phases like that. It only really stuck though, after the bite. This particular phase though, was particularly bad. At the end of the day, the school busses would stand in a line, 1 through 13 I think. I was on the 2nd to last bus, so I was one of the few to walk the longest. One day, my childhood 'best friend' convinced all the popular boys, including my crush, to shout my name from their respective bus, then flip me off. Interestingly enough, there was maybe only 1 or 2 busses where a kid didn't yell my name. That night, I wrote my first draft of my suicide note (that I have mentioned in previous posts). They didn't know that tensions were at their pique at my house. My parents never went back to normal after my brother died. Sure, things weren't perfect before but the abuse was at it's pique and I just had no hope.
So I had no hope, and drafted probably daily, what I would write. Till one day, one of the last days, according to my plan, when a girl saw me writing in class. She couldn't see what I wrote, but clearly she was curious because I guess when I wasn't looking, she grabbed it from my bag. I'm not really sure how many people wrote the note before I noticed there was a slow wave followed by shocked expressions that seemed to follow a piece of paper. When it landed on the kid's desk directly in front of me, was when the teacher noticed. She grabbed it, without reading it, and put it on her desk. Three periods later I was called in the office and forced into therapy. So thank you, nosy girl who took my note from my backpack. And thank you teacher for finding the note. It saved my life.
It turned out that the most mortifying thing in my life turned out to be the best thing for me. Isn't that always the way?
The point is, I appreciate 13 Reasons Why. It spoke to me as being very real. And I read it at a time in my life that the message it presents is very important. Our actions and non actions toward others matter. You don't know what burden others carry. And trust me, no one's perfect, certainly not me. But that is how I am trying to live my life. As true and honest and as hard as I can. I always try to tell people things that I like about them because I don't think we do it enough. Maybe someone needs it. You never know... But I'm called weird for it. But I got to be honest with you, I don't care. Normal isn't real. Normal usually prevents people from telling others how they really feel. Fuck normal. I may seem scatterbrained, and I probably struggle a lot. But I live, and I am appreciative of life. And thank you to everyone who makes my life better. And if you ever need someone to talk to, please please don't give up. Reach out and reach out again. It can get better.
As always, lots of love
Samantha
