First Not Day of School

I love school.

I always have and I always will. (Which is good considering my choice of major.) My favorite day of the year has always been the first day of school. To me, it was a holiday. I would plan out my outfit weeks in advance, wake up early to do my hair, and grab my backpack full of freshly sharpened pencils and blank notebooks just waiting to meet one another. Want proof? Check out my first days of Kindergarten and 1st Grade:

School meant new clothes, new office supplies (which I have an outlandish love for), seeing my friends five days a week, and cartons of chocolate milk on the daily. But more than any of that, it meant learning. I loved absorbing new knowledge. There's just something special about taking your first set of notes for the year. Education was something that was always there for me. Through fights with friends, family hardships, and medical problems, I could always count on going to school and learning something new. I'll echo Irish poet Yeats who once said, "Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." 

College broadened my horizons. Up until my first day at BGSU, I had never met anyone else who truly loved learning as much as I did. I'll never forget sitting in my first day of Critical Thinking. It was in that class that I realized that I was surrounded by people who felt the same way as I did. I met a professor who challenged my ways of thinking and truly changed education for me. (I'm honestly afraid he's going to see this and judge my writing. Heath if you're reading this, I do apologize greatly.) It was in that classroom that I grasped how blessed I was to be receiving a college education.

With that being said...

Tomorrow is what I'm dubbing my first "not" day of school. For the first time in my life I'm watching all of my friends go to class, meet professors, and grab syllabi while I sit at home. I knew two weeks ago how hard this day was going to be for me, but this article isn't about that. This post is about something different.

The past 24 hours I've witnessed a plethora of tweets, status updates, and text messages of people complaining about classes starting - some with people already looking forward to skipping class. Now I'm not here to judge them or tell them they're wrong. I have endured PLENTY of papers I didn't want to write, lectures I didn't want to sit through, and days where I just wanted to sleep. I have skipped a class or two myself when I have been ill. College is hard, it really is. It's stressful, challenging, and isn't always fun.

But it's a privilege.

There are millions of people who wish they had the opportunity to pursue higher education. People who long to attend a university but can't due to financial, physical, emotional, situational, or personal reasons. I personally know a handful of people who cannot attend college due to financial setbacks, and my heart hurts for them. Higher education is highly sought after from nation to nation, but not everyone gets the chance. Earning a degree plummets you ahead of the pack. In 2012, the Bureau of Labor Statistics showed that the median weekly wage of a person with a bachelor's degree was 63.5 percent greater than that of a person with only a high school diploma.

But it's not all about the academics. College is a place where you learn about life. You learn that deadlines matter. You learn how to prioritize. You learn that no, you CANNOT microwave Styrofoam. College is a place where you make friends that will last a lifetime. Friends that will make you laugh. Friends that will bring you chicken soup when you're sick. Friends that will challenge you to be a better person. Friends that could later become colleagues. It's a place where you meet professors - both bad and good. There's no doubt that you'll have some professors you don't necessarily care for, but you'll also meet a handful of inspiring adults who shape every part of your being, mentor you on your future career, teach you how to be an adult, and ultimately change the way you look at life. Take in everything you can from these professors. They're much more than just teachers.

I'm by no means telling you all to love school the way I do. You don't even have to like it. But I'm challenging you all to take a step back and conceptualize the realities of the benefits and privileges that coincide with receiving a college education. As you walk across campus today, take five seconds to breathe. Five seconds to just stop and reflect on where you are and how you got there. Five seconds to think about how these four years are going to completely change your life.

Breathe, look around, and remember not to take it for granted.

Life Update

With only a week and a half left until fall semester begins, it's time for me to put on a brave face and come clean with the reality of my current situation.

I will not be returning to BGSU this fall. 

That sentence is the second hardest combination of words I've ever had to come to terms with, with the hardest combination being the reason why: I'm struggling with anxiety and depression.

Now, before today I would have never been able to say that freely, let alone post it on a blog that hundreds of people (ha) could potentially see. Let me explain what my summer was like, where I am now, and what I hope to see in the future.

(If you want to get to the point, feel free to skip down to the dashes.)

I've been struggling with anxiety since the 6th grade, and medicated for it since the 7th. Back in April (it was literally April 1st, go figure) I got the stomach flu. When that happened, my body stopped responding to the meds I had been on for 7 years. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten that far with one set of meds, but what happened in the following months was what made me so much worse.

If you know me, you know I'm incredibly stubborn when it comes to asking for help when I feel I don't need it (or so I'm told..) My assumption in April was that I'd force my way through the rest of the semester, come home, be slapped with new meds, and be at camp by June. No such luck. I started experiencing what I now know is called depersonalization. At the time, I had no idea what it was. I had to miss choir tour and ended up back home in May. My anxiety was so high that I wouldn't leave the house and I quit driving. I started going to a new doctor and they told me they needed to start from scratch, meaning no camp.

This is where the depression hit. My soul lives for three things: Jesus, music, and summer camp. My favorite 10 weeks of the year are those spent smelling like sweat, smoke, and bug spray while singing silly songs, making bracelets, and seeing campers light up with joy. It's something I've been a part of for 15 years and I never intended to take a break. Watching all my friends go to various camps was bittersweet. I was so happy for them and for the campers they would be impacting, but I felt so useless. Every Tuesday night I would hear the campers at the camp over the hill playing games, and I would break down.

So between having breakdowns every Tuesday, missing camp, feeling useless, being in an unstable home environment (a different story entirely), and then being told I probably wouldn't make it back to school in the fall, I stopped functioning. I wouldn't get out of bed. On top of all of that, I've been to 3 different doctors who have gone through 4 different combinations of medications trying to help the anxiety. I completely lost myself. I was thoroughly convinced that I was crazy. Somedays I still am.

At this point, I'm currently seeing doctor #3 and really enjoying her. I'm on a set of meds that seem to be helping the most compared to the others so far. The meds are starting to help with the depression, but the anxiety is still present. I'm also still struggling with the depersonalization, and I haven't been to church since May. I have been taking baby steps towards recovery such as taking the dog for a walk or going to get ice cream. I even took a huge step by going to see one of my best friends perform a fabulous saxophone recital all the way in Findlay.

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So with all that being said, although I'm taking baby steps towards recovery, I'm not there yet. I plan on trying to attend church soon, starting to drive short distances, and hopefully make visits to see friends in the coming months. But I'm no longer afraid to talk about it. It's an illness, and it doesn't take any value away from me as a human being. Mental illness shouldn't be stigmatized. People need to stop being afraid of it. Would you stay away from someone because they had diabetes? No. Would you tell someone with heart disease to "just get over it"? No. Would you tell someone with cancer that it's "all in their head"? Absolutely not. Anxiety and depression are real illnesses, just like any other illness, whether it be physical, mental, or behavioral. It requires medication. It requires hard work. It even requires that scary T-word: Therapy. I'm not trying to blame my actions or quirks on my anxiety, I'm just finally realizing that I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm just sick. And I'm finally getting help.

These next four months are going to suck. They're going to be really freaking hard. Watching all my friends go back to RA training, seeing statuses as people buy books and move-in... it all hurts. A huge chunk of my heart is in Northwest Ohio. And I'm recognizing that there are still going to be days where I don't get out of bed. There will be days where I'm too afraid to leave the house, thinking I'm crazy. And there will be times when I feel stranded and alone because my friends are far away while I'm stuck here unhappy. I'm still finding the right combination of meds. Anxiety has and still is robbing me of my jobs, scholarships, leadership positions, and friendships, but it hasn't robbed me of my faith. I believe that God is putting me through this for a reason, even though I can't see why right now. I also believe that I'm still in here... somewhere. The real Kelly is just hiding right now.

But I'm going to find her. She'll be back. 

And she's going to fight like crap to be back at school in the Spring.

Sweater of Faith?

Hello! 

If you're reading this, you were somehow directed to my blog. Whether you're here by divine intervention, fate, purpose, or on accident, welcome! I'm glad you're here and hope you are too.

In all honesty, I've never blogged before. It took me long enough to learn the ins and outs of Twitter, the unwritten rules of Snapchat and Instagram, and let's be honest, Facebook is ALWAYS changing. This is my first time blogging and I'm not sure if it's going to stick or not, but we'll see. Please bear with me as I find my voice and learn how to share it.

So then, why Sweater of Faith?

I'm sure you're all imagining something like this...

Or maybe even this...

In all honesty, I chose this title for a variety of reasons.

First of all, I love Jesus Christ with my whole heart. He has helped me in every area of my life and continues to lead me through this world. I believe in Him, take refuge in Him, and trust that His way is better than anything I could ever dream of.

Secondly, I love sweaters. The feeling of warmth creeping over my skin and keeping me comfortable is one of the simple things in life that I love. 

Proverbs 31:25 states, "She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future." God himself clothes us. Granted in this verse, "clothed" is being used in a metaphorical sense. Either way, when I think of God clothing me, I imagine Him swaddling me like a baby, tucking me in, and making sure there are no loose ends. He puts me in a sweater of strength and dignity. He covers me with Himself. The depth of love that we receive from God cannot be fathomed, but when I imagine it, I imagine Him wrapping His arms around me and keeping me cozy through the rough times in life. 

So I'm challenging you to wear your own Sweater of Faith. Life will throw dirt on it. Life will put holes in it. But at the end of the day, you can look down and see the material constantly cleaned, replenished, and sewn back together. Why? Because that's what Christ does. He helps us through the trials of life and makes us new through the power of His blood. The God that kept Moses clothes from tearing as he spent 40 years in the wilderness is the same God that clothes you with His love.

Let God keep you cozy. Put on your Sweater of Faith.

God bless,

-Kelly

Oh, and here's one more sweater.. mainly because I found it while looking up the others and would actually wear this one. :)