Melting candles

Survival 101:

Keep your head low. Don’t make eye contact. Stay small, stay out of the way. Stay quiet. Your exuberance is annoying. No one likes it. Stop shaking, you’re not 4, people shouldn't scare you.

Georgia, stop. Be quiet. STOP. People are staring. Just stop thinking. Stop Being.

I was 14 years old, my head was a mess. Crippling social anxiety plagued my thoughts.

I’d been trained by my peers since I was in the first grade.

Be a good girl, Georgia. Follow the rules we made for you. No one likes you, no one wants to be around you. I was not used to anybody wanting to be my friend. I wasn't used to people wanting to be around me. Why would they want to be? I was annoying and loud. I was distracted and too enthusiastic. I was inconvenient, a party crasher.  I sat alone on busses, kids whispered rumors about me. I was weird.

4H camp, 2013. I was so scared. I was going to be one of the oldest girls, attending for the first time. I didn’t know anyone, and everyone I knew, didn’t like me. I was expecting more rumors. Homesickness. Why on earth would my mom subject me to this insufferable, unusual, and cruel torture? I’d been in 4-H since I was 11, but I was perfectly fine staying in my little shell, where I couldn’t disturb the people. I felt bad enough that they had to deal with me during fair and spring comp.

4H camp lit something inside me me, and it just so happened to burn hot enough to start melting years upon years of self-protective walls that make bank vaults easy to break into.

The next year, I came back as a counselor. I started traveling with the OSU 4-H summer conference in Corvallis, Oregon. Kids wanted to hang out with me. They called my name across court yards and it didn’t sound like the most horrible word imaginable. I was still scared. I was shy. I wasn’t good at hanging out or remembering to tag along or speak up. I mean, kids were liking me. Why would I mess that up and open my mouth?

I kept melting. Confidence was finding its way into my head. Summer had finally come into my heart after years and years of frigid fear. I tried out for the Wallowa County 4-H court, and then got the position. The girls on the team weren't close with me, but we went on so many adventures across Oregon. I started changing my words from “I’m sorry” to “I worked for this.” I stopped trying to make myself so small that you couldn’t see me.  Slowly, I crawled out of myself.

4-H was burning inside of me. Pushing me outside of my small comfort zone. By 2015, I was creating my own community service projects, gaining momentum, I did a state talent show at the OSU summer conference, and my confidence skyrocketed. People were chanting my name. They cared about what I thought.

Suddenly, I crashed. My confidence hit the floor. I started avoiding people. Their affection for me couldn’t be real. I’m Georgia. The black plague. The girl with a skin problem. The loud one with too much school spirit and enthusiasm. I started questioning the authenticity of relationships I had built. I fabricated a shield. Y’all thought I was fake? I’ll show you fake.

I knew my over excited mannerisms pushed people away, so I turned it up to a 10 and tired TOO hard. I became flippant. Pfffff no one ACTUALLY cared how I was, so i just faked a smile, a laugh. Played the part that a pretty girl ought to, while being it TOO much. I SPARKLED in my armor. I was overly sparklie. No one likes gaudy sparkle. So guess what I was?

I was at summer conference, hanging out with a group of kids, and one of them looked me dead in the eye. He looked at me like he knew something. Like he knew that my efforts at happiness were completely and overly intentional.   It sent shivers down my spine. I can still remember.

“This isn’t you.”

Just like that, and somehow it dropped. Not instantly, but I could just feel it. I was exhausted. For a while, it felt like there were two people living inside of me. I wanted friends, I wanted relationship, but I was so scared. What if I got rejected? What if it turns out that this was a cruel joke? An act of charity?

Haha Georgia. You actually believe that we liked you? Pathetic.

OH my gosh. I can still feel the fear making my body shake. I remember my rules, I remember the faces of the kids sneering at me. I can remember the kids of my class laughing at me while they treated me like trash, and I took it because I wanted friends so bad.

Flash forward a couple years, and here we are. I had friends through 4-H, all over the nation. I confidently give public speeches. I’m blazing trails for kids like me, that feel alone, feel hated. Have shields up. Three years ago, I didn’t see myself here. Three years ago, I couldn’t see myself getting out of my own prison. 4-H helped me liberate myself. It took one single 4-Her to make me stop long enough for the real me to be heard. It took a group of five kids to help melt me. It took leaders, supportive peers, it took adventure.

4-H is more to me than a club. Or a bunch of clubs. 4-H is a home. It’s a support system. It’s a school. 4-H is more than livestock projects, sewing meetings, and memorised speeches. 4-H is growth, a liberator. Without 4-H, I wouldn't have had the opportunities to push myself and build the confidence to stand on my own. Without 4-H, I wouldn’t be who I am.

Purpose

It had to start young. 

If I had ever felt like part of the group, part of the school, the team. I never would have had the opportunity to go to the Alternative school. I didn’t see it then. Heck, I was a third grader. I remember it. I remember staring at myself in the mirror in the bathroom, home sick for Washington, but I knew. God would not have sent me here if He didn’t have a plan. I knew I was going to make a change. A real change. I just knew it. 

That didn’t make dealing with it any easier. At all. I lost sight of that eventually. I forgot that I knew something good had to come out of this, as the pain of missing *home* took over, and I was consumed in self doubt. 

I graduated three weeks ago, and this weekend I watched  my best friends graduate from Lake Side High School. It was an amazing weekend. I got to spend time with their class. I was honestly shocked. We all laughed together and played this crazy game and it was so good. And I was reminded of how much I really missed Washington. 

Let me explain though cause if you even knew we lived in Washington, you’d probably think I was crazy for missing it. I left in the first grade!! 

I was so excited. The day my mom said we were leaving, I was like “BOOH YEAH!” And started running around my house, telling it that I wouldn’t miss those walls. I remember the first time we drove over. I fell asleep right outside of Colfax, and didn’t wake up till we were almost there. It felt like a 15 minute drive! Yeah well. It was closer to 4 or 5 hours. We got to enterprise, and the distance of my *safe place* started weighing on me. 

I know I was little, but I honestly have so many good memories from Colfax. My sister and I used to run around in my moms *fairy garden* and pretend to be fairies and hide from people who drive by on the road. I remember dance classes and sock parties on the hardwood floor in my and my brothers room. I remember my kindergarten and pre school teachers. I remember trips to the mall with my mom and dad. I remember stopping by les Schwab with my mom to see my dad. It just felt like everything was so much better in that little world. 

Here, the kids were harsh. Our house was small. There was no fairy garden. Enterprise didn’t sparkle like Washington did. Our school didn’t even have a pool. It haunted me for YEARS. I remember up until the end of sixth grade, I fully planned on moving back to Colfax. I had kids sign a little paper at the end of each school year, planning on not seeing them ever again. Well. I always ended up back at the doors of EHS for my first day, the next year. 

I guess I just gave up on that at some point, although I don’t remember when. And it still feels like coming home every single time I go to the Colfax/Spokane area. I don’t know why. However, Spokane will soon be my home, and I know in my heart that the third grader inside of me is ECSTATIC. 

The point is. God was preparing me. I couldn’t have gone to the Alt ed, and made such amazing friendships. Such amazing memories. I wouldn’t have met Maria or any of those kids, who each individually has inspired a part of me that is determined to work with the youth of the nation on a huge scale. I did make a change. Or, I inspired one. 

I couldn’t have made it so that EHS Alt kids could play sports without the help of my mom and dad and faculty. I couldn’t have walked with the kids of EHS without the same support. And it took a whole village of kids to slowly change the way that EHS perceived Alt ed kids. 

The point of this is, maybe you miss home right now. Maybe it hurts a lot and you feel hopeless and you kinda wanna just give up, because what’s the point? But I’m telling you. Hold on. There is a difference to make. There is change to inspire. You have to do what you have to do and sometimes it’s hard. Really, really hard. 

I think that it’s actually about perspective. Because I can look at things and see two perspectives. I could look at my 12 year school career and think to myself “the world owes me” or I could look at it and think “I’ve been equipped with so much resilience and experience. I can use this to do something amazing”. I personally enjoy choosing the latter of the two. I’ve been given so so much. It’s time for me to give back. I’m so excited to serve God with all the tools and insights and experiences that He has given me. 

I Did It!

Hey guys!! I did it!! I GRADUATED!!!!!! 

First of all, I just want to say thank you to my mom who has been my best friend since day one. We've had our differences. We have had our issues and our fights, but in the end, you're always the one pulling me closer when I'm kicking at you to get away. Without your unconditional love, I would never have made it this far. 

Reflection time!! 

As you guys know, I have not had the best time in school. Friends weren't my thing, grades weren't either...basically I was just bad at school.

Kinda. 

I had to work a lot harder than most kids. I felt isolated and alone for most of my school career, but this is not a sad story. This is a story of victory. So lets start at the beginning and recount all the good memories. Here's to you, School, and all the lessons you taught me without even knowing it. 

In the first grade, I got 100% on almost all of my spelling tests. I'd come home from school, walking hand in hand with my big sister, knowing that my mom and brother probably had apple fritters waiting for us when we got there. 

In the second grade, I met Amy, who turned out to be one of my best friends. We fell apart for a while, but then this year on the cheer team, we had a lot of laughs together, and second grade really just started an amazing friendship. I still remember convincing our moms to drive us to each-others house at 6 AM. Still not sure how we pulled that off. 

In the third grade, I remember learning how to crack my first egg, and my mom let me crack eggs after that. I also got glasses, which I loved to death, and had a really sparkly pair of converse, and honestly, what makes life better than sparkly shoes? Nothing. Except Jesus, of course. 

In the fourth grade, Amy and I did the talent show to a song for the newest Hannah Montana movie. hoe-down throw down. We laughed together a lot. Mrs. Findly was an amazing teacher, if you read my blog, thank you. You were amazing. I can't express the impact you truly had on my life. 

FIFTH GRADE. I caught my passion for writing. I remember having to write essays and short stories and book reports and state testing and poetry competitions. I always just wanted to push. To read more, be better. Expand my vocabulary. Mrs Fisher really pushed me in the direction of personal growth as well. Mrs. Fisher believed in me, a ton. She promoted my writing, encouraged me, and helped me feel like in a class of people who isolated me, she was my friend. Mrs Fisher, you have been one of my absolute favorite teachers, ever. you taught me so much. Thank you. 

Sixth grade was a year of discovery. I met another two friends of mine, Lucy and Nodya. We were like, instant besties. Sorta. The start of the friendship Lucy and I had with Nodya is funny, but not instant best friends, lol. That was a good friend year. 

Seventh grade. Did not do so well in school. BUT. I did get to see my best friend from Russia, and I mean best friend. We've been friends since like, third grade? I also got a horse. Rachel and I fought over whos horse was taller and faster. Lots of races. I got to see her every day. It was also a good friend year. 

Eight grade, my family took a trip to Montana. It was so cool. We all got in the yellow truck with a camp trailer and the dog and just drove. We went through Utah and Montana and we saw yellow stone and Jackson Hole and so many places that I don't even remember. I do remember Jacob, Madison, and I all laughing in the back seat, I remember stopping at the state lines and getting pictures as the asphalt changed color. 

My ninth grade year, I met Mr. Pace, who became a hugely motivational part of my high school career. I would like to apologize to Mr. Pace right now, because I know that I wasn't the best student, but you really inspired me. You were always a happy face. I know I must have been difficult to watch self-sabotage. Walking into your class every day was difficult, because I knew I wouldn't have homework to turn in, but you were so passionate about what you were teaching, and so positive and supportive. 

My sophomore year was hands-down, the hardest year I have had thus far. Yet I learned so much. I learned about pushing through hard times, I learned about strength, I learned about who I was, learned where my boundaries were. I was stripped to the core, and that let Jesus get a hold of me. I got baptized that summer. I let grace come in and change me, radically. 

My junior year, I was getting the hang of letting God be in control of my life, and learned to be okay with changing schools, which turned out to be such a blessing. I met Maria and found home in a school, when I had been so used to being cast out. 

My senior year. Lets see. I got to be on the cheer squad. More than that, I was a part of the cheer squad. They were my friends. I got to ride on top of a fire truck for homecoming, I got to practice and have a car wash, I got to travel with them. The football team made it to state play-offs. It was a year for the under dog. I also got to go to my first dance at another school. Josephs homecoming was great. I just strengthened my friendships at the alt school, made new friends, was pushed to look inside myself, I grew a lot, learned a lot, smiled A LOT. Senior year was so good, so much more than I ever had hope of having.

Thank you, Maria. You believe in a bunch of kids who have a hard time believing in themselves, and it makes a difference. You showed me a future I didn't believe in a year and a half ago. You took tears of deep pain, and made them tears of gratitude. You took inner strife and doubt, and turned it into potential to grow. 

Jeni, you were a gift. I've never felt challenged by having to think about my emotions. I've always perceived myself as someone who knows whats up with themselves. I've always seen myself as a just happy person. You challenged me to search myself in a way that led to a lot of truths and understandings and a heck of a lot of growth.

Ahaha and Michael I am so sorry. You are probably the most tolerant person I know. I was very difficult during math, trying to talk my way out of math assignments. I also asked if we could blog, like, every day. You always lightened the classroom though. You were really fun, and soooo supportive. When I was making up my math credits, you were always there to support me, even when I had haughtily said, only a moment before, that I knew what I was doing. 

Ms. Pinkerton, you made my dreams come true this year. Without you, I would never of had the opportunity to cheer again, or to walk with my class. My senior year was a dream. A true dream, and I have you to thank. Thank you for being there when I got my diploma, thank you for standing up for me, thank you for taking care of me. 

Okay I know this was a long blog post, but I have no idea how to fit all of what I want to say into a  post. I'm not sad that high school is over, just insanely grateful that I got to experience it, and come out a much stronger person than I could have ever imagined.