08 12 / 2011

Lol, so I was talking with a friend about how I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be one of those hot girls that turns every head, gets every guy’s attention. Then, my friend told me that I’m “approachable hot”. When I laughed my ass off, he explained that while I’m not that super, double-take hot, I’m the kind of hot that makes guys want to walk up and say hello because I’d still talk to them, and that the problem with those super hot girls is that they know they’re hot and they’ll ignore you because they know they can get anyone. Since I was still laughing, he further explained that the best thing about being “approachable hot” is that it takes a genuine girl, with enough confidence to like herself but not so much that she’s an arrogant bitch, to pull it off, that a bitch can’t be “approachable hot” because it shows.  So, he said that it’s the best kind of hot because the girl doesn’t even know how hot she is and so it doesn’t scare away the guy that she’s trying to get, and she still gets to be pretty damn hot.

LOLOLOLOLOLOL.

I guess if that’s true, it’s quite a compliment. Lol, but I don’t know much of that is bullshit. x)

In any case, I’m okay with the way Ben put it, that I’m hot in that I dress really frumpy most of the time but I make it work because you can tell I like myself and I don’t dress to impress anyone, so it ends up still being pretty. x)

These boys and their making shit up to make my plainness sound nice. x) Haha, I know I’m plain, but I also know that I’m not ugly. I’m generically attractive, I have an appealing figure and I take good care of my hair. If I tried, I could look better, but I don’t care to put in all that effort, so I’ll take plain and I’m happy with that. :)

(I have such sweet friends. <3)

(This reminded of another time that my friend got really drunk and came to my place and was babbling about his ex and all the dumb sluts at our school, and then he turned to me and grabbed my shoulders and was like, “See, you’re seriously the hottest girl at this school, ‘cause you just wear jeans and boots and you don’t dress up, but you walk around with all this confidence, like, you’re just happy and you don’t have to dress up to be happy and feel pretty and it just draws me in, you know, ‘cause you’re just hot without trying for it,” and proceeded to laugh hysterically and go on with his babbling. Lol, so I dunno if he meant it but it was still a nice compliment that seems to go along the same lines of this “approachable hot” business.)

16 10 / 2011

Last night would’ve been a fantastic night. It was, if I could forget the last hours of it.

First I went out with Ben. We ate a quick dinner together and went to his band’s rehearsal, then he and I went for a walk and a drink. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

Then he dropped me off back at the dorm building. He always waits until I get in the outside door before driving off, and last night, the door was blocked by a bunch of thugs. As I walked by them to go inside, they started grabbing my hair and clothes. It was surprisingly discreet for such guys, because even Ben said he didn’t see much as I walked in. (He was driving away, and only saw one of them grab a bit of my hair as I passed, and he assumed I knew the guy.) My room is rather close to the outer door, and I wasn’t sure if the guys had seen me go into my room, and I bolted myself in. In my fear and panic, I didn’t know who to call but Ben. When he heard me crying and what had happened, he immediately returned. He looked around the building for them and stayed close to my door to keep an eye out. He let me cry and we were quiet for a while. Then I talked about what happened, about things like this that have happened before, and cried a little more. He suggested going to the campus police and carrying a gun. After more crying, and some giggles as he attempted (and miraculously succeeded) to cheer me up a bit, he decided he was going to stay with me for the night since I didn’t feel safe. While he went to lock his car and cover his belongings, I called my parents to let them know what had happened and that I was safe and being cared for. My mom was worried and suggested that I go the campus police. Then she asked to talk to Ben, so he talked with her for a few minutes and then she bid us good night. I didn’t sleep well, even though I always sleep better next to a person. I know he didn’t sleep well either. But I did manage to sleep a bit, which is more than I would have if I had been alone. This morning he left early, and when I finally left my dorm to go eat, there was a group of guys by the door again. I walked around the building and left through the other door.

I’ve gone to the campus police about these things before. They’ve told me we already have nightly rounds with the officers and they deal with any of these encounters that they see, and that they can’t do anything if I don’t know who did it. Faces all look the same to me if I don’t know a person, and I don’t pay a lot of attention. Last night was no exception. As I walked through them, I had intentionally avoided eye contact and I didn’t see any faces. I couldn’t pick them out if I saw them again. I’m fairly certain I’ll get the same answer from the UDPS if I go talk to them again. I’m not keen on carrying a gun without a license, so that’s out. I’m feeling like there’s nothing really to do. I wish the fear would ebb.

If I look at the positive, though, Ben really handled the situation perfectly. He was exactly what I needed last night, and did everything I needed him to, said everything perfectly. He was exactly the right mix of strong, angry, protective, calm, and sensitive. He held me, consoled me, gently joked with me, kissed me, talked to my mother, and slept at my side. When I wasn’t sure if I could hold it in anymore, he said, “It may be painfully obvious, but you’re a good person, Kasey, and they’re disgusting criminals. You don’t deserve that and I think the way you’re feeling is appropriate. It’s not dramatic or unwarranted,” and the dam on my tears broke. I sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes and thanked him for that. While it may be painfully obvious to him, it’s hard to remind myself of that. There was nothing else he could have said that would have helped as much as that did. And he let me be the mess I felt inside. I was always afraid of being overly emotional around him, and he’s really helped me learn to feel, but not feel in a way that’s unnecessary. He’s helped me feel secure with myself in a way that requires me to be secure with myself, since he’s not my boyfriend, but he still dates me and makes me feel lovely. And then when I needed another person to be there for me, he stepped up valiantly and unselfishly. It was perfect on his part. I feel better today than I would have if he hadn’t taken care of me.

I hate reminders that people are disgusting.

I am thankful for the friends I have that take care of me, and give me hope for mankind and for love.

24 6 / 2011

I&#8217;m Not Sad Today.
I&#8217;m not sad because I am alive. I&#8217;m not sad because I have a family that loves me. I&#8217;m not sad because I am living in conditions which allow me to never feel true hunger, allow me to stay comfortable, allow me to access luxuries like the internet. I&#8217;m not sad because my life is on the track that I want. I&#8217;m not sad because despite my struggles, I am still here, and that&#8217;s not changing.
I am proud of who I am, the mistakes I&#8217;ve made and the lessons that I&#8217;ve learned from them. Even though I don&#8217;t always feel it, I know I am strong enough to make it through life&#8217;s obstacles.
In my early life, I was abused emotionally, physically and sexually by my father. He has harbored issues with his own life for at least thirty years, and drinks them away. My mom was in school at the time, getting her degree, and was away often. Dad would drink more when she was gone, and would lose his control over himself. I would hide my brother as well as I could, and take as much of it as I could, which was usually far too much. I didn&#8217;t tell my mother until about two years ago. At the time, I didn&#8217;t know that his behavior was wrong. I thought that was just how fathers were. But I&#8217;m not sad because he&#8217;s improved a lot, and though we can never work through this past because he doesn&#8217;t remember it, I have let it be in my past and built a good, working relationship with my dad. The abuse still affects me from time to time, but I have healed well.
Because of this childhood, I developed depression (and dysthymia - a less severe, but much more long term form of depression) very early in my life, and wasn&#8217;t professionally diagnosed until age 8. This was when my mother finally noticed and tried to do something for me. She didn&#8217;t know why I was depressed; she just knew that I was. Off and on for ten years, I have dealt with this condition. Anxiety, lack of sleep, fluctuating appetite, no interest in things, loss of concentration, body aches. It&#8217;s currently my hardest struggle, and has cost me some things that I love very dearly, but I&#8217;m not sad because I know I can conquer it. Maybe not permanently, but I can be in control. I will be in control.
Around the time that other little girls were beginning to &#8220;ooh&#8221; and &#8220;ah&#8221; over little boys, I was quietly noticing the other little girls. I didn&#8217;t know that there was a word for this inclination, but I knew it wasn&#8217;t normal, and that I should keep it to myself. It haunted me for a very long time, and I tried very hard to ignore it. I lost girl friends to my strange looks, and eventually lost many friends. I eventually embraced it, and, in a seemingly cruel twist of fate, I suddenly starting feeling attracted to boys, as well as girls. New confusion, new mockery, less friends. When I was in 7th grade, I accepted that I was attracted to both genders, and no longer hid it. I lost all of my girl friends, which wasn&#8217;t saying much by that point because most of my friends were boys at that point. (To an extent, that had always been true, and is true now, but it hurt to lose my few girl friends.) I was asked not to go into the girls&#8217; locker room anymore, because of &#8220;complaints&#8221; from girls, and I was ostracized by many people. Eventually the intolerance became less and less active, and though I never hid my preference, I tried not to draw attention to it. Occasionally I hear a nasty remark my way, or a Bible shoved in my bag, but I&#8217;m not sad, because labels and genders do not limit me, and my friends now are all accepting people and love me just as I am, and these experiences allow me to help others who face bullying for their sexual orientation.
When I entered high school, I got my first serious boyfriend. He was much older than me, and had manipulated me. Despite all that happened even at this point, I was naive, and too willing to finally be accepted. He isolated me from my friends and family, and abused me physically, emotionally and sexually. He was a sickeningly good actor, and made sure no one believed my pleas for help. I was trapped; either be far too promiscuous with him in public or be hurt in private. I got very good with makeup. On what was supposed to be a lunch date, he raped me in broad daylight. I thought I was pregnant and thought my life was over. The reputation he gave me haunted me throughout high school, and I never regained the friends I lost. To this day, my parents don&#8217;t know the extent of the abuse. I couldn&#8217;t handle physical contact for many months and struggled with intimacy for even longer. But, I&#8217;m not sad, because that ordeal taught me a lot about myself, and helped me grow into the woman I am today, albeit in a terrible and difficult way. I learned what was good for me, and what behavior was not acceptable in a healthy relationship. I finally refused to be the victim anymore and took control of my life again, instead of letting that experience control me any longer. I&#8217;m not sad because I&#8217;m not a rape victim - I am a rape survivor.
Almost a year later, I entered the first healthy relationship I ever experienced. I loved him for over three years. He was my best friend. He made me feel beautiful, loved, deserving. When I went to college, I knew the transition and the distance would be difficult. Within two months, he cheated on me with more than one girl, lied to me and tried to act like he hadn&#8217;t done of it. Then I discovered he was cheating on me before I even left. At the same time, my parents&#8217; fighting escalated higher than ever before and settled on a divorce. After all the healing I had done, I couldn&#8217;t handle the blow. I have entirely relapsed. My depression is worse than it has been in a very long time. But I&#8217;m not sad, because I am determined to face it and feel happy again. I am determined to do this without the attachment of relationship, so that I may be happy as me. I am determined to feel as good again as I did a couple years ago, when I had a stable relationship, real friends, and a comfortable home life. I am determined to be happy that I am alive, that my parents both love me even if they don&#8217;t love each other, that I have too many blessings to even be sad. I don&#8217;t often feel it, but today is one of those days, and I&#8217;m not going to let this strength go.
I&#8217;m Not Sad Today! ♥

I’m Not Sad Today.

I’m not sad because I am alive. I’m not sad because I have a family that loves me. I’m not sad because I am living in conditions which allow me to never feel true hunger, allow me to stay comfortable, allow me to access luxuries like the internet. I’m not sad because my life is on the track that I want. I’m not sad because despite my struggles, I am still here, and that’s not changing.

I am proud of who I am, the mistakes I’ve made and the lessons that I’ve learned from them. Even though I don’t always feel it, I know I am strong enough to make it through life’s obstacles.

In my early life, I was abused emotionally, physically and sexually by my father. He has harbored issues with his own life for at least thirty years, and drinks them away. My mom was in school at the time, getting her degree, and was away often. Dad would drink more when she was gone, and would lose his control over himself. I would hide my brother as well as I could, and take as much of it as I could, which was usually far too much. I didn’t tell my mother until about two years ago. At the time, I didn’t know that his behavior was wrong. I thought that was just how fathers were. But I’m not sad because he’s improved a lot, and though we can never work through this past because he doesn’t remember it, I have let it be in my past and built a good, working relationship with my dad. The abuse still affects me from time to time, but I have healed well.

Because of this childhood, I developed depression (and dysthymia - a less severe, but much more long term form of depression) very early in my life, and wasn’t professionally diagnosed until age 8. This was when my mother finally noticed and tried to do something for me. She didn’t know why I was depressed; she just knew that I was. Off and on for ten years, I have dealt with this condition. Anxiety, lack of sleep, fluctuating appetite, no interest in things, loss of concentration, body aches. It’s currently my hardest struggle, and has cost me some things that I love very dearly, but I’m not sad because I know I can conquer it. Maybe not permanently, but I can be in control. I will be in control.

Around the time that other little girls were beginning to “ooh” and “ah” over little boys, I was quietly noticing the other little girls. I didn’t know that there was a word for this inclination, but I knew it wasn’t normal, and that I should keep it to myself. It haunted me for a very long time, and I tried very hard to ignore it. I lost girl friends to my strange looks, and eventually lost many friends. I eventually embraced it, and, in a seemingly cruel twist of fate, I suddenly starting feeling attracted to boys, as well as girls. New confusion, new mockery, less friends. When I was in 7th grade, I accepted that I was attracted to both genders, and no longer hid it. I lost all of my girl friends, which wasn’t saying much by that point because most of my friends were boys at that point. (To an extent, that had always been true, and is true now, but it hurt to lose my few girl friends.) I was asked not to go into the girls’ locker room anymore, because of “complaints” from girls, and I was ostracized by many people. Eventually the intolerance became less and less active, and though I never hid my preference, I tried not to draw attention to it. Occasionally I hear a nasty remark my way, or a Bible shoved in my bag, but I’m not sad, because labels and genders do not limit me, and my friends now are all accepting people and love me just as I am, and these experiences allow me to help others who face bullying for their sexual orientation.

When I entered high school, I got my first serious boyfriend. He was much older than me, and had manipulated me. Despite all that happened even at this point, I was naive, and too willing to finally be accepted. He isolated me from my friends and family, and abused me physically, emotionally and sexually. He was a sickeningly good actor, and made sure no one believed my pleas for help. I was trapped; either be far too promiscuous with him in public or be hurt in private. I got very good with makeup. On what was supposed to be a lunch date, he raped me in broad daylight. I thought I was pregnant and thought my life was over. The reputation he gave me haunted me throughout high school, and I never regained the friends I lost. To this day, my parents don’t know the extent of the abuse. I couldn’t handle physical contact for many months and struggled with intimacy for even longer. But, I’m not sad, because that ordeal taught me a lot about myself, and helped me grow into the woman I am today, albeit in a terrible and difficult way. I learned what was good for me, and what behavior was not acceptable in a healthy relationship. I finally refused to be the victim anymore and took control of my life again, instead of letting that experience control me any longer. I’m not sad because I’m not a rape victim - I am a rape survivor.

Almost a year later, I entered the first healthy relationship I ever experienced. I loved him for over three years. He was my best friend. He made me feel beautiful, loved, deserving. When I went to college, I knew the transition and the distance would be difficult. Within two months, he cheated on me with more than one girl, lied to me and tried to act like he hadn’t done of it. Then I discovered he was cheating on me before I even left. At the same time, my parents’ fighting escalated higher than ever before and settled on a divorce. After all the healing I had done, I couldn’t handle the blow. I have entirely relapsed. My depression is worse than it has been in a very long time. But I’m not sad, because I am determined to face it and feel happy again. I am determined to do this without the attachment of relationship, so that I may be happy as me. I am determined to feel as good again as I did a couple years ago, when I had a stable relationship, real friends, and a comfortable home life. I am determined to be happy that I am alive, that my parents both love me even if they don’t love each other, that I have too many blessings to even be sad. I don’t often feel it, but today is one of those days, and I’m not going to let this strength go.

I’m Not Sad Today! ♥

31 7 / 2010

You can watch it, if you’re interested, here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nReOeW1UckI

Anyway, I love when he does videos like this. Aside from the fact that he’s damn hilarious, it’s a big reason I follow him: after all the dirty, dry, twisted humor, he never ceases to amaze me at how easily he can remind all his viewers that he has a heart that is truly loving and understanding.

These new characters of his have really hit home with me. His Father’s Day video made me cry and I was very pleased when he decided to keep working with the characters to work through issues he wants to discuss that have a more serious tone than some of his other (hilarious) junk. (Not that he would, but he were ever to come across this and read it, I hope he’d understand that no matter how I may bash his funny videos, I love them. When I need a laugh, a good laugh, I go to his channel. I would never mean the things I say in an ugly way. He inspires me. :D)

This video made me smile and well up with tears. For a long time, I hated myself for many reasons, reasons I never understood, reasons that grew worse with time. Being so young, only about 8 at the time, hearing a doctor say “severe chronic depression” and trying to explain it to me, trying to tell me that it’s perfectly normal, but would probably never go away… I just didn’t understand. All I knew was that nothing made me happy, I couldn’t focus on anything, I didn’t even know why I bothered living… and the one the doctor said that did make sense was that she couldn’t help me, because I was too small and too young. I wanted to grow up, wanted to get bigger, so I could be happy. I thought that that was how it worked. But as I grew, it only got worse. Hated my body, hated my personality, hated my height, hated my hair, hated everything that was me. I especially hated what was on the outside, because I had to see it in the mirror, the way others see me.

In the ugliest way a girl of 14 could imagine, a way that few truly understand because it’s still so painful for me to discuss, I finally learned the truth. When I couldn’t love myself, no one could love me. I began to see that depression didn’t mean I had to hate myself. It meant I had to appreciate everything so that happiness might come a little easier.

Right away, I could appreciate the beauty in every little thing and every person around me, but it wasn’t so easy when it came to myself. So, I chopped off all the hair I had hated, a symbolic way of starting anew. (Shortly after that, I actually started liking my hair, as it was.) I began to embrace my personality and realize that what I hated and wanted to change would only change if I did it for me, not for anyone else. I began to like my stubborn will; it made me willing to fight for what I believed and helped me help others. I grew alright with the fact that I wasn’t top of my class, because I was still bright and still amazed people with my intellect. I will never stop wishing that I didn’t have such a naive trust in the world, but I can’t help it; I like to think the world is good, and it keeps hope in my heart, so accepted my naivete as well. I became stronger in my acceptance of myself, and realized that nothing needed to change, because then I wouldn’t be me.

Once I could embrace my personality, I decided that I needed to embrace the self that I had to face in the mirror every day, if I were to truly love myself. I had to come to terms with the stereotypes and jokes that come with being so short; I can’t change it all. (At the time, I was 4’11”. I now stand only 5’.) I’ve since grown my hair back out and I’m actually quite pleased with it; I get many compliments on it. I’ve accepted my plain face and do my best to look presentable every day. Hardest of all, I learned not to care that I didn’t have the perfect body with which the media plagues every girl; I had a perfectly average body that someone someday would find attractive.

9 years later, being 18 now, I’m still too small to be helped with medication, even considered too young. But I don’t need the help. I’ve learned to be happy with who I am. The depression still exists, hitting me harder some times than others, but it doesn’t consume me like it used to. At least not with hate and sadness. I’m actually very happy a lot of the time. And I’ve learned to love myself, something that seems to be impossible in today’s world, something I rarely see in others around me. And I try very hard to remind the people I love, and some that I don’t, that they are perfect the way they are. If I can believe it, I hope the world can too.

Thank you, Shane, if you read this. Thank you for reading it, firstly. But truly, thank you for renewing my faith in people, that the world really does have kind souls. Thank you for making videos that make me laugh, make me cry, make me think. Thank you for sharing kindness with a sometimes cruel world. Thank you for talking about the things that really matter, whether we want to admit they matter or not. Thank you for being you, and being happy with you. I hope you know that you inspire others to be happy with themselves too.

(This doesn’t really fit into what I’m talking about, but, to my friends, if you read this: you all get so offended when you compliment me, I thank you but I say I’m not pretty, and you insist that I am. Maybe to you, I am. But to me, I am not. I will never think so, despite anything you say. But this no longer kills me inside, no longer makes me angry, no longer makes me jealous of every pretty girl in my life. I am perfectly content with not being pretty. I am happy without being pretty. I don’t need empty obligatory words to make me pretty. I have learned that love, the love I give and the love I receive, will make me pretty to others. But it will never make me pretty to me. Please understand that I don’t need to think I’m pretty. I appreciate your sentiments, and thank you for the kind words, but to me, they are only such: words. I would like to say that I’m sorry, but I can’t lie to my friends; I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for being happy without thinking I’m pretty.)

25 7 / 2010

"before you leave" confessions?

Heh, guys, both friends and “enemies” alike, have been sending me these strange confessions. Some have been innocent and sweet; others have been sexual or just plain rude. But they have all either begun or ended with “I just thought you should know before you left,” or “I wanted to tell you since you’re leaving,” or the like.

First. Dudes, really. I’m not just gonna go away forever. I’ll talk to you on Facebook. I’ll text you, if I liked you. I’ll come to visit during holidays. I’ll see you at reunions. I’m not even leaving the state. Lol. Granted, most of the confessions haven’t really changed my opinions, but, I mean, why is it presented in the context of me going away? It’s not like I’ll never see these guys again, never get in touch with them again. If they wanna confess something to me, it’s cool, but if they wanna do it because I’ll leave and it’ll never be awkward, then they kinda failed. Lol.

Second. I’m gonna hope that all these boys are intelligent enough to realize the above point, which leads me to another thing. If they know that they will in fact hear from me while I’m 6-8 hours away, and realize that this means that the confession may or may not change our friendship (or lack thereof), then why are they really confessing such things to me? This doesn’t really apply to the nice ones that seem to be for the sake of starting a belated or overdue friendship, or the ones that simply express respect for someone, but really to the ones that address physical things. I mean, they come from both friends and people I didn’t consider friends. Was it for the hopes that they would change our relationship into something more? Should I naively assume innocent intentions? Do I trust them enough? With one of them, no; he’s proven dirty intentions. But is that true of all of them? I hope not. I love some of them dearly as friends, brothers. I would feel awful to reject them, but I couldn’t do anything else. Not only are they too close to me, I have a wonderful boyfriend whom I wouldn’t hurt like that. I’m just scared, I guess.

Last. Dudes, why couldn’t you just tell me (some of) these things while I was still here, when it could’ve made a difference? In this case, the opposite of the above is true; I mean this for the sweet ones that made me smile, and could help a friendship blossom. I like that you respect me; I’ve always respected you deeply. I’m sorry I never gave you a chance; I just never knew how sweet you were and always assumed you couldn’t stand me - I wish I’d known. Ya know what I mean? Why when it seems too late do you tell me? I mean, it’s not, but why do you tell me because I’m “going away”? Because you never really wanted to be my friend? Because you truly thought I’d reject your kindness? Meh. I’m glad for the kindness, but I half-wish it had happened when I could’ve been around for a friendship.

Anyway, just a little spiel on strange “last-minute” confessions that aren’t truly last minute. Sorry if you wasted your life reading it. :)