Reconnecting :)

Dear Ashley,

I'm so glad you Facebooked me. I have been thinking of you a lot lately, I guess you were thinking of me too. Funny how that works.

So, catching up. Where to start? I've had a really rough couple of years. I've made and lost so many friends, searched for love (and failed miserably to find it), tried a few drugs/drinks, and have basically stumbled my way through the early stages of adulthood.

Let's start with spring of sophomore year: I finally got hired as an RA, I was awarded the vice presidency for the school's presidential honors society, I declared a double major (English- and I settled on it), was inducted into AX, and generally finished off the year with a bunch of meaningless accolades. I was also in the beginning throes of my worst round of depression yet. I discovered that I have a real problem with hating loneliness, but constantly removing myself from social situations. I was getting to be a victim of "the party scene"... and it is thriving here. I made two Cs and I failed Peer Tutoring (but thankfully I don't need it to graduate and the F won't keep me from graduating, so...). I thought that when summer came, I'd be done struggling to be happy.

I got hired last-second as a performer/carpenter for an outdoor theatre in central North Carolina and I hated every last second of it. I didn't know it at the time, but the minute I arrived on grounds I was a target. The girl playing my love interest in one show hated my guts because I was replacing her friend from school, who'd accepted a better contract at the last minute. Couple that with our SM (who I have lots of strong opinions about), who hated me because I was instant best friends with a guy from his school who he was in love with. In a weird, parental way.

The theatre was (is) struggling, so they were trying a fresh approach. The artistic director/general manager and founder had passed away suddenly pre-season, so his niece stepped in to direct the show. It's a show made possible by locals and community effort, so the professionals (if you could call us that) were seen a necessary evil at best. The house was so bad that I had flashbacks of living in the Wichita ghetto! It was possibly the only time I've seriously considered buying shower shoes.

Anywho, the locals weren't happy that the theatre decided to change direction, and that made things difficult all around. The man who passed away didn't train anybody to do anything he did, so we were up a creek and unprepared... it was a mess. A hot mess. I made a couple of really good friends, but to be honest I don't care if I ever see most of those actors again. I felt like I'd stepped out Lees-McRatchet and stepped right back into Weaver drama.

I made it out after a fight over my contract, and I was ready to start fresh in the fall semester. Well, there's thing about depression (I'm sure you know)- it never really goes away. Within four weeks I wasn't working out, I was eating ice cream for every meal, I never left my room, I hated my jobs... and I had some serious drama with a close friend that challenged my beliefs about friendship and forgiveness and love.

I was made to participate in a spur-of-the-moment, orchestrated bust of more than fifty people who shouldn't have been busted at all, and the security officer in charge broke several rules and protocol and made me to do the same. I resigned my position as RA (but stayed on until the end of the semester, like I had signed in my contract). I stopped going to class, I stopped caring about homework and grades and assignments. I didn't talk to many people, and when people said "What's up?" or "How are you?", my answer was always honest- I'm struggling. If you laugh and grin while you say it, nobody pries into what's going on. So people were surprised when I started to fall.

I also resigned my position with the presidential honors society, and the a cappella group that I was directing imploded, and I was in several classes that required me to use my classmates for scenes, only no one would work for me. I don't know what precisely it was, but I assume it has something to do with my "elitist attitude" and my exacting, demanding attitudes towards work. It was so bad that I couldn't find a dancer in my department to dance for my choreography final (not that we have dancers in the strict sense of the word). I was lucky to book my best friend at school, who had danced in high school, and a wonderful professor in the education department who happens to hold an MFA in Acting from California Institute of the Arts (but strangely doesn't teach for our department).

I came to the realization that my department, my classmates, didn't really give a shit about me. I almost failed two classes because everyone said they were already booked or whatever lame excuse. I took a hard look at myself and decided I was the problem, so I decided to try to change.

Winter break sucked. My mom and I fought all the time, over everything, and I was constantly furious. My dad finally came through on a promise to fly me out to Kansas for break, and getting him to commit to a schedule was like pulling teeth. I told him I'd fly out to see him on one condition- I had to have my return ticket in hand before I left.

He bought my ticket out (though he tried to get me to pay for half, and I said, "Which one of us has a real job? I'm living of what I saved from work-study!"), and when I got there he didn't have my return ticket... on Christmas, I finally told him, gently but firmly, that I expected my return ticket in my hand before he went to bed.

I guess that really changed how dad saw me, because after that he was constantly marveling at the "adult I was becoming". It was sweet, and sentimental, and all those things that make me want to vom.

My dad is currently living with his girlfriend, and they are two happy parents now, I guess. His girlfriend tried to call me son, but I couldn't quite let that slide. Her youngest just graduated high school, her oldest lives on the couch. Literally. When Hannah and I were there for Christmas, she slept on the loveseat and I on the recliner. I was glad to be back on the plane to Greensboro. It was good to see my dad, but I'm glad I don't live with him. Lots of people tried to estimate how long it had been since I'd seen my dad, but none of us could give an accurate date. I think the closest we were able to narrow down was something like six years?

On a lighter note, I was able to reconnect with my cousin Bertie (who is eighty and feisty). She's old enough to remember not only my grandmother, but my grandmother's first husband, who is the subject of some controversy in my family for his infamous disappearing act. I listened to Bertie's stories about Jack, my dad's dad, and the stories of other members of our family who remember Jack. His struggle with his mental health sounds eerily like my own... and I hope my story ends better than his did. Bertie told me that I look just like my grandmother, and that I favor her strongly, and I swear that just about made the whole year better.

Spring semester was a haze of unhappiness, depression, and staying in my room for weeks at a time. I guess I put on a great face; because everyone seemed to know how unhappy I was, but most people were surprised to find out exactly how bad it was. I hit the bottom, Ashley. I remember one point where I legitimately couldn't remember the last time I showered or brushed my teeth. My hair was ratty, I had constant dark circles, I snapped at people all the time, I was taking 23 hours and working an incredibly stressful work-study writing press releases for the school- and I did it to myself.

I know now that I never want to be a journalist or PR representative. I hate the deadlines, I hate the emotionless style, but what I mostly hated was writing peppy glam pieces for an institution that I despise.

I very clearly remember the exact moment I saw myself at my worst. I hadn't looked directly in a mirror for months and I finally saw myself and was astonished! Where was my body? Where was my personality? It sounds cliche, but I didn't recognize the person I saw. It was like the fog I had been under had warped my physical body into a gross puddle of a person.

So I did some thinking, and I decided that the problem wasn't me after all- it was dem bitches. I looked around, and saw that everyone else was so busy covering up their own unhappiness about their own inadequacy that not a single one could see further than their own problems. And, most importantly, I saw that the only person who could pull me out of the bottom was myself.

It was stop and start for a few months. I've only just now hit a good stride. I started taking a B vitamin supplement and that has helped a lot more than I expected it to. I'm sleeping better, I have more energy in the day, I'm motivated to do things like clean and work out and do my freaking Spanish homework. I love it. I wink at myself in the mirror every time I see myself, and I walk with a new confidence that I find delicious.

And I went to SETC! And I slayed! I chose to take myself out of the auditioning circuit this year, after my last negative professional experiences, and I asked myself if I really wanted to perform. That was decided by the success of student-produced musical plagued by red tape and a weird, micromanaging laissez-faire approach by our faculty. Between that and my success at SETC (apparently I made lots of good impressions), I finally felt like I was really doing what I was meant to.

And that's been me. Right now, I'm living in an apartment on campus. I'm working to save up for a car this summer, so I can go on auditions and just have a car. I was working at a steakhouse, but I quit the job because of homophobic slurs directed towards me in the workplace... and I found another job to replace the old one in two days. :) I'm also working at a bed and breakfast, a summer arts camp, and doing odd jobs where I can find them.

And I'm doing better right now than I have in a long time. Maybe senior or junior year of high school. I'm rediscovering my passion for acting, and dancing, and singing, and writing. I started writing songs, and I just found out that I'm not too shabby at photography. It's like I found a secret light switch. Things seem... brighter. I can't say it any other way. Figuratively brighter, but also literally brighter. I'm bothered by stupidity less and less, and I have a better handle on who I am and how I relate to others. I learned how to say no and be firm with it, and I'm learning that I can't give unconditionally to someone who returns the gift with stinginess and withholding. And I'm standing up for myself! That's right, you heard me! When I feel like someone is treating me unfairly, I voice it. When someone makes an unreasonable request, I call them out. I'm speaking about things that have bothered me for years, and I'm doing it as respectfully as I can, and the more I do it the more it pays off.

For the first time in years, I'm looking forward to what the future brings. And I'm preparing to OWN my last year of college, and then get the fuck out. This town is so tiny, and the circles run tight and overlapping, and everybody thinks your business is a public copyright. The school is the most dumbfounding assortment of runaround policies and bureaucratic failure, and it's embarrassing.

 That said, I'm in a good place. And it gets better every day, though it is definitely a sharp incline. I have learned a lot about being a person, and I think it will serve me well in the time to come.


How are you doing? In your last letter you said that you were also coming out of a struggle period. I hope that's gone better for you. I totally stalked all of your overseas pictures, and I love your instagram photography. I was so happy that you surprised me with your Facebook message. I got it in class (today was the last day for my photography elective), and I was already thinking about what I would write when I got off work today.

I can't wait to read your letter. :)