I got hired because I cried in a basement. A lot. Weekly, actually. Every Wednesday from 6:00 to 8:30. I would cry and crinkle my emotions into a bundle of Capri Sun flavored “I understand how that makes you feel”. I’d keep my deepest, darkest memories tucked into sandwich wrappers, and, if we were lucky, cones of kettle corn. The IFF knew how to treat kids well. Especially kids who weren’t treating themselves very well at all. I knew I wasn’t taking care of myself, but I didn’t really know how to stop doing that, especially as it became trendy. As the days in school grew, everyone’s self esteem shrunk. As the classes got longer, the nights got shorter, and the all nights became a staple in each week. Kids walked, red eyed and dead inside, with cups of coffee and sugary nightmares. All the while, they claimed they were burning themselves down to try and spark their dreams into realities. I was one of them too. I thought that each time I broke myself down, that would somehow force others to build me up in their minds. “Oh, I’m sorry you only slept for 5 hours! I’m running on three, and I know I can only get two tonight, but you should try and relax.” “Ah, yeah, sometimes I shake if I have too much caffeine, but I’ve got a drama meet, rehearsal, work, and then a volunteer position at the hospital! After that, I’ve got a manifesto that won’t write itself! I’ll just get one more coffee to go.” “Haha, I haven’t eaten since 6 AM! I know it’s 3, but I don’t really have the time to sit and stop, you know?” At some point in high school, hurting became a competition. And dear, I had a trophy case full of self hate.
Flash forward to me, crying in a basement. Crying in a basement got me a job. I started attending a group called Youth Move- a national program centered on developing mental health awareness and advocacy in society. At first, I joined because “founding the first Idaho chapter of Youth Move” sounded amazing on a resume. I wasn’t looking for healing. I wasn’t looking to be better. I was looking to sound like I was better. I didn’t think that something could make me feel better. But this did. I don’t know if it was the people or the topics, but it helped me so much that I don’t want to anger the forces behind the curtain in a way that makes them want to take it back.
The group and I- who I won’t disclose the names of (mainly because I haven’t asked for permission yet, oops) met to discuss things to improve the community, the trauma we had endured, and who we hoped to become. We made art, talked about art, and thought about how art could and would change the little ol’ Boise, Idaho we were living in.
Luckily, the two amazing angels who ran the IFF and Youth Move as a whole saw something in the nervously dispositioned teen with tear streaked cheeks. They saw that same girl in quarantine- a hard break on the life that none of us ever thought would stop. I was luck enough to be asked to join a team to plan a Youth Summit for Idaho, and I was even luckier when I was asked if I would join the IFF full time (and by full time, it means 6 hours a week right now, but I’m sure that will increase if/when I can work in person).
In essence, this blog is going to document and recount what I’ve done, and why I’m doing it. Ups, downs, lefts, rights- whatever helps to shape my view of how I can help to impact others. And in turn, how they will also impact me. Technically speaking, I don’t do TONS for the IFF. I’m not filing papers and sorting through drafts of policy or proposals for what to tackle next. I make social media posts! I talk about what life is like as one of the “hip, cool youths” living with an anxiety disorder. I also help to make sure that any slang used in conversations is properly translated for those who are not in the loop. Most importantly, I get to run the Youth Move meetings I used to spill my emotional baggage into.
Hopefully, what I can get out of this, is not only basic things like work experience, time management skills, basic understanding of taxes. What I hope to get is something greater than that. I want to make a change. I want to hear stories and understand. I want to hear the stories of others and feel. I want to be able to award the kindness given to me to someone else.
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