The Letter

I told you today that I wrote a good bye letter. In the case I'm not strong enough. I cried and was trying not to pull my hair out. Even though you were there, I'd never felt more alone. But I know I wasn't. It's the depression and anxiety and whatever. But I was trying to reach out for help. I'm not okay. I'm not strong right now. I don't know what I need but please help me. I can't take this anymore. Writing letters you will all read about the times I didn't wanna be here anymore. Messing up every time I get out of my bed. I'm a good person, I know that. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But I can't control it anymore. My thoughts are taking over and I've lost control of it. It's different this time and I don't know how to control it anymore. I'm looking for every possible answer. From eating bananas to raise my potassium, to upping the strength of my mood stabilizer. It's so much. And even though I'm supposed to take a week off, which I REALLY need, I can't. If I lose a job again, my mom is just gonna see me as a disappointment. I broke all the promises and relapsed into my cycle. But that's not it. My health is horrible. And you don't see it. You've seen that I've lost weight, but I'm always smiling. And maybe it's easier that way. To just not talk about it. But if I don't, they don't understand. They don't understand at all. How do I take care of myself without becoming a disappointment? Maybe.. it's not me. I know who I am. I know what I can accomplish. Everyone needs a break sometime. And if I don't take care of myself now, my life could be shorter. I want to live. I don't want to survive anymore. If for some reason I don't make it, I'm sorry. I tried. Just know I'll always be with you.

The Days

You know those days, not the best ones.
The ones where you get in the shower,
But just sit down and cry.
The water pounding down on your head,
Watching it all go down the drain in a spiral.
Because sometimes...
It's just too much.

You know...
The days where you want to be happy,
But the knots won't untie in your stomach.
So you pop another pill,
Smoke another bowl.
But there you are again.
Sitting.
Crying.
Once again...
It's just too much.

It's the days like today,
Where you just need a hug.
But instead, we sit here and cry.
Because the fear of asking,
Is almost greater than our courage.
And sometimes...
It's just too much.

We have those days where we're ready to tell you.
How we feel.
What we feel.
And just as the words are about to slip off our lips,
The knots get tighter.
So.
We don't tell you.
We can't.
This time...
It's just too much.

You know those days, the good ones.
I'll have those too.
I'll smile and I'll laugh.
Sit outside and take in the sun,
Watching the clouds go by.
Because sometimes...
It's not too much.

You know...
The days where I am happy.
The knots are untying.
I don't need pills on these days.
I smoke because it makes me laugh.
So, here I am.
Laughing.
Smiling.
Once again...
It's not too much.

It's the days like today.
Where I asked for hugs,
And only cried from laughter.
Because the fear of asking,
Is not greater than our courage.
And sometimes...
It's not too much.

I'll have those days where I'm ready to tell you.
How I feel.
What I feel.
And just as the fear is about to take over,
Courage comes in.
So.
I do tell you.
I can. 
This time...
It's not too much.

I'll have, you know, the "not so great" days,
The good days.
The shitty days.
The best days.
I'll have all of them some days,
And other days, I won't have one at all.
Because life is a rollercoaster,
But I really hope you'll stick around for it.
Because at the end of the day...
It's really not too much.

Medicated

One hit.
Two hits.
Three hits.
Stop. 
Un-medicated, left to my own demise.
Sensors taped to my face, head, and legs.
I need it. 
I need it now.
Un-medicated.
I hate you. 
You didn't listen. You left.
Fighting back the only tears I have left to give a fuck about.
Four hits.
Five hits.
Six hits.
Stop. 
Breathe.
Inhale.
Un-medicated and self medicating. 
Scratching my own skin off, filling the room with clouds.
I wish you'd never been in my life.
If you'd just listened to me, when I told you, 
My brain does not collide with my body.
One sip.
Two shots.
Three drinks.
Stop.
The room is spinning and I can finally think.
Close my eyes.
Picture this life..
If I were normal.
Normal.
Sane.
Un-medicated.
One smile.
Two laughs.
Three pills.
STOP.
Abnormal.
Insane.
Medicated.
Three hits.
Two hits.
One hit.
Stop.
Maybe now you can see.
What happened when you left me.
The scratches fade away.
The bumps subside.
I am not free.
Forever strapped to these chains.
Abnormal.
Medicated.

Johnny Boy

As Twenty One Pilots once said..

"No one really knows his mind

And no one knows behind his eyes

The man deserves a medal,

But he's never really won a prize

Before.

He goes to lock the door.

He is falling in love.

He knows it's enough.

And the world looks down and frowns.

Get up, Johnny boy, get up, Johnny boy,

Get up 'cause the world has left you lying on the ground.

You're my pride and joy,

You're my pride and joy.

Get up, Johnny boy, because we all need you now.

We all need you now."

No one really knows my mind

And no one knows behind my eyes

I may not deserve a medal,

But I've never really won a prize

I go to lock the door,

Oh,

I go to lock the door.

I've fallen in love

And I thought it'd be enough,

But the world looks down and frowns too much.

Get up, Chloe girl, get up, Chloe girl,

Get up 'cause she left you lying on the ground.

She was my pride and joy,

Oh,

She was my pride and joy,

Get up, Chloe girl, because she was all you needed now.

STOP.

What does it mean to feel needed?

To be loved?

At age 16, I found myself lying on the streets

And my wounds kept opening.

I can't help but think that's where I am again.

I can't help wonder if that's all I'm going to be.

I have this burn on my ring finger that will not go away.

This burning in my heart that will not let me breathe.

The pill bottles

and all the friends messages

and I can't do it.

I don't know how to do it.

STOP.

open up your eyes.

look at this world and realize

it is not your fault

and you may be alone for right now

but it will not be forever.

God did not send you here to fail

He sent you here to live

But what is living,

if there is nothing else to live for?

How do I heal the scars on my heart?

Drive to work every day

like nothing ever happened

All the memories

are just memories.

A blank wall means more than you know.

You sit and you stare

In a bed you're not familiar with.

In a home you're not familiar with.

But how much hurt do you take?

When do you draw the line?

God did not send me here to fail.

He sent me here to live.

And if he sent me here to live,

then I must not let the hurt

the pain

the scars

overcome me. 

Because although they are words,

I am more.

The Missing Peace

We never really know how or why. It just happens. We lose our jobs. We lose the ones we love. We make mistakes. And sometimes we don't know why.

Life is hard to understand. It's like a puzzle but you seem to always be missing that last piece to put it all together. To make it stable. And to complete the picture. We can't complete the picture.

It doesn't make sense. We try and try. To make others happy. But it seems like we're always the ones who end up "making the mistake" and it's "our fault". Because we can't control what happens in life. Just how we can't control how to complete the puzzle. There's always a piece missing.

We wake up in the mornings and wonder what's going to happen. Are we going to make that person happy? Are they going to come home upset? How can I do this right this time? With the fact being, we still don't have that piece. We don't have that peace.

There's a reason my blog is called the unexpected. Because that's what I live every time. Sometimes I fall upon a piece of that puzzle. But then I realize it doesn't fit. So I continue looking and climbing hills with boulders resting upon my shoulders. It's an every day battle to keep going. To find that peace. To make them happy. To find that job.

The reality is, we're going to be searching until the end of time. There is no secret book with the answers. Nothing you can find on Google. This world simply doesn't have the answer. But we'll keep looking. And if you ever find it, I wish you the best.

Make Some Noise

For a little over two years now, I've been fairly silent. And I'm ready to make noise. With a few recent events at work, my spark has finally come back. It's taken me two years to find the spark inside me. So, here's my story.

Two years ago, I was bedridden. Add another four months, I was finally making my way out to my car and to my parents house where I'd lay on their couch until January. It was the second day of school and had already finished band camp. A guy I didn't know well, invited me over to play some Xbox. And I thought nothing more of it. I didn't have friends. I was still getting over an abusive relationship. I was lonely. I was vulnerable. And worst of all, I was offered alcohol.

So, where am I getting at? What happened? I wish I could tell you. All I remember was taking two beers. Not enough to knock me out. But that is what happened. I woke up and I heard "Clean yourself up." with a towel thrown at me. Next thing I knew, I was sitting down with police and investigators.

"Do you want to press charges?"
"Have you told your parents?"
"Did he provide the alcohol?"

The entire time I was with my drumline instructor who took me to the station. A man who sat with me, listening to every horrible thing I could remember. He was just as distraught as I was. I was only 19.

To answer your question: I was date raped. My drink was drugged. I lost my virginity that night. I wanted justice so bad. I hated him. I still do. But, things took a turn for the best.

Two years later, and here I am. I'm moved out and living with my girlfriend. I've had my job since October 2015; which is the longest I've ever kept a job. And I have been offered the head frycook position. The thought of what happened stopped coming to my mind. I left school to find myself. I worked every hour, minute, second I could. My mind was constantly occupied. The days I didn't work, I was at drumline. An hour and a half away from where I lived. But in that time, we won our state championships. I never thought I'd feel like a human again. 

But I am human. And I am worth every second of this life. Just like everyone else. So, you may be asking why I'm telling you this. Here is why:

I am tired of feeling ashamed. I am sick of being quiet. I was a victim, but I am a survivor. And I am lucky. A lot of you out there, this may be a shock to you. Some may know. Some may not care. You may say I was stupid to take alcohol, and you're right. But maybe had I been more prepared and had more knowledge on what to look for in this situation, I would have left. But screw the what if's, and the would haves and should haves. It is not my fault. And it never will be. I recovered.

I've seen so many posts and stories about rape and sexual assault. It sickens me. Because I got to the point where I felt it would be easier to take my own life than to try to become human again. But there is something that my Dad has always told me, that will never leave my mind: "Chloe's do not give up." And every time I felt like it, I found a reason to smile in my day.

I'm here to make noise. We need to educate our youth and young adults, and even adults on what to look for. This needs to stop. No means no and that's that. I'm sick of sitting in the shadows, wanting to comment and tell you I understand. I DO understand. And you are not alone. You will never be alone. Stand with me, friends, family. Stand with me and make some noise about this "taboo" subject. I want to change this. And it starts with us. Let's make some noise.

Celiac in a Bakery

Most days I wake up and ask myself, "Why am I working in a bakery? I have Celiac, I can't eat anything there. Does it even matter if I go in?"

Every night when I come home, those questions are answered. Back in October, I had dropped out of college. I couldn't handle it anymore. I had a professor who wouldn't understand my mental health situation, I was struggling to find myself; I could not take it anymore. On a day I should have been at school, I went to my family's favorite bakery to get my mom some eclairs, since it was parent-teacher conferences that week. 

While I was waiting for the order, I began talking with a worker. I was in a stupid shirt, sweat pants, a beanie, a raggy coat, and above all things, I hadn't showered that day. I was telling this worker of my mom's forever dream to work in this bakery. Throughout the conversation, she offered me a job. I didn't take it seriously at first, but as I was leaving, she said "But seriously, if you want a job, I'm the hiring manager." I thought to myself "What the crap just happened?" I've had trouble finding jobs and finding the desire to keep them. And out of the blue I was just offered a job through simple conversation. I went back and horribly put an application together, the next thing I knew, I was becoming head dishwasher.

Throughout these months of working at the bakery, I kept asking myself if this is something I wanted to stick with, or if it was just another job. I've always wanted a music degree, but for the longest time I've felt like it just isn't the right time. I've always had a passion for cooking and baking, but never thought I'd actually become a baker. I was the dishwasher and took great pride in my work. 

I had a few rough months at the start of my job. My brother passed away after Christmas, my ex-boyfriend left me alone an hour away from home, I had been moved instruments in my drumline, I had to move out; things just never seemed to go my way. As I look back, I think of the rough times, which remind me of the best times. I was very quiet when I started this job. I didn't talk much and really only stayed in my little bubble. As I began to branch out, I seemed to have found a family. One that I could never replace.

To begin with, I had a hard time feeling "at home." My parents have been struggling, which is a struggle for me, as well. One night when I went to work, there was a lady who I saw, but never really talked to. Jayme. Little did I know this woman would become my best friend and one of my role models. Jayme and I began talking, and little by little, we opened up to each other. She took care of me. I called in and needed someone to cover my shift, and she told me to go home and not worry about it. I couldn't believe someone would be so nice to do that for me. Of all people, I felt I didn't deserve that treatment. Over these past few months, Jayme has become a safe haven. Her girls are great and I finally started to feel like I could be myself. Jayme always encouraged me, brought me up when I was down, and continuously told me how amazing I am. She does that to this very day, and she is family to me.

In the midst of working on what has now become a career, I found someone who seemed to have fallen into my life and saved me when I needed it most. It was "ratchet sunday" and I had never met this girl before. In my religion, it's not a belief that same-sex relationships are part of the eternal plan. This is something I have always struggled with. But as a I got to know Lexi, things really began to fall into place. Someone was finally taking care of me. I felt like my whole life I've never had the chance to sit back and relax, but with her, she let me. In fact, she makes me. A week ago, we were in a quite unfortunate car accident. I was driving and rear ended a car. I was going about 50 MPH on impact. I am still amazed that we are alive. I bring this up for a few reasons, and this is what they are.

Previous to our accident, my manager had pulled me aside and promoted me to a baker. I was so excited. I had finally done it! I achieved my goal. My career was moving along. Along with my excitement, I also took this promotion for granted. I took my job, my life, and everything else for granted. I was so excited for a night out with Lexi, I was just driving too fast to the theater. In that moment of impact, moments before, I knew we were going to hit the car. I didn't know how bad. I didn't know if we'd live. But I immediately ran out of the car, pulled Lexi out, and called 911. We were lucky. Extremely lucky. I cried and cried. When we finally got home, I called my coworkers, knowing I was going to be in too much pain to work. Throughout the next few days, I had continuous text messages and phone calls from my coworkers to see how we were.

When I went back into work on Monday, I was hugged by everyone. I saw Jayme that Wednesday, and I could tell how scared she was. She told me about the conversation between her and my manager, and they couldn't even bare the thought of losing me. This really hit me. I had to stop and think "Why are they in so much pain?" It took me a few hours to understand. I went to see my car, and it all hit me. A close friend of mine had passed away a few days prior, and I thought to myself "I could be the one in a casket." Words cannot describe my gratitude that I am still living and all of those who have helped me through it.

Although I was sore from the accident, I began my training as the new frycook. It was a long and stressful process, but I was learning. As the days have gone by, I may not make perfect doughnuts. I may not say all of the right things or handle life the best. I got in a car accident, and it was just that. An accident. I am proud to say that I was not on my phone, wasn't on my radio, I had full attention to my driving. I come home tonight with so much gratitude and appreciation for this job, for the new family I have made, and for what I thought was going to be just another job, but has turned into a career.

I have a lot of customers ask me how I can work in a bakery with Celiac Disease. It's a simple answer. "I love it." When you see the smile on someone's face after you make a joke, or they get excited about how awesome their cake looks. Or just the simple act of listening to a customer when they've had a hard day. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if I hadn't applied to this bakery. My life is anything but normal, and to give you a taste of what that's even like, begin with this.

I am a Celiac working in a bakery. I may not always make a perfect doughnut, just as we may not live perfect lives, but it doesn't mean we can't make it a great one.