Conviction and Insight: A Teenager Speaks

Addiction. Cutting. Suicide.

Please visit Two Write Love on Her Arms and The Trevor Project for information on what you can do to help someone in crisis and to celebrate the hope offered in a single smile.

After my daughter came home from rehearsal last night, she posted this note on her FB account. Keep in mind she is 14 years old and a high school freshman:


How to Save a Life

Bullying. This is a word that everyone knows, and at some time or another we have probably all experienced. It ranges from the annoying but relatively harmless and cliché insults such as "four eyes" or "pizza face" (which I never fully understood) to the kind that is utterly unforgivable. The cyber bullies, the bullies that shove kids down stairs, the group of girls that has some snarky bitchy comment to say to the class nerd every day, the bullies that harass other kids about being gay, the bullies that purposely exclude people just to make them feel insignificant.

Something people don't realize is that the saying "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is BULLSHIT. Words are sometimes worse than bullets. Hell words often are the bullets that some poor kid has to deal with every single day. Words kill kids. They really do. So many kids today commit suicide because of bullies, and it’s often because of what the bullies said, not because they took the kids lunch money. I can give you a list of kids that I either go to school with now or used to that have attempted to kill themselves because of bullies and this has to stop.

An 18 year old boy posted a suicide note on facebook then jumped off bridge, killing himself because his roommate posted a video of him and his boyfriend having an "encounter"

A 13 year old boy killed himself after being bullied at school, why? He was gay.

A 13 year old girl named Hope killed herself, because of cyber bullies.

These kids shouldn't have died; these kids killed themselves because of other kids.

Some quick facts:
· Suicide is the second leading cause of death among college students
· Suicide is the third leading cause of death for 15-to-24-year-olds.
· Every hour and forty-five minutes another young person commits suicide.
· More than 13 of every 100,000 people aged 15 to 24 committed suicides in 1990. Experts estimate that each year nearly 5,000 teenagers commit suicide.
· Teen/youth suicide rates have tripled since 1970.

To any of you out there reading this that are the bullies or have ever been the bullies here is what I have to say to you:
In a few years from now, you're not going to remember the kid’s names, you won't remember what they looked like, and you probably won't remember half of what you said to them. THEY will remember you though, every word you said every time you shoved them, and every night they spent crying because of you. They will remember what you sounded like, what your face looked like, everything. If they kill themselves because of all the crap you put them through it’s your fault and you'll have their blood on your hands. Remember that.

Kids: I'm sick of hearing all these stories about kids our own age who are dead because of what other kids put them through. We need to stop this, and we all can. Smile at that kid who sits by herself at lunch, hell GO EAT WITH HER. Help the boy who dropped his books, don't laugh. Talk to the quiet kid. Say something nice to the kid you know is getting picked on. Something as simple as "I like your shirt!" or just smiling at someone really can make a difference.

Adults: Look, a lot of the time you're not too helpful. Saying things like "Oh they are just jealous" or "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" tell us kids two things: one, you're a moron and two you've probably not been bullied very much. Kids need people they can get help from, someone they can talk to. We need you to say "They are such assholes sweetie." and stuff like that. We need someone to go in and help us. The thing is most kids don't have that; you adults need to step up to the plate.

At the beginning of this school year my teacher told my class to write 3 goals in our notebook or just write one big goal. I know what my big goal this year is.

It’s to show one kid that they are wanted and loved.

It’s to save a life.

Scribbles

Last night I saved the "NPD 051110.doc" file for the last time.

I finished the first draft.

Nobody was home.

I poured a cup of iced coffee, texted my two best friends, and threw a load of sheets in the washer.

And then I hit print.

Perfect.

Photo courtesy of "three little cupcakes".

But It Will Be Alright

Tomorrow is Thursday...

Poster by Andre Jordan

Pull Up a Chair

I have no word count for today.

Some waiting was more focused today. Some waiting became plans about how we're going to wait in the weeks to come. Planning for limbo. Interesting.

I have found in my short albeit epic life that the simple act of sitting with another person in whatever space they occupy at that moment is a gift of solidarity. Sometimes the most useful and undemanding show of support for another who suffers is to pull up a chair.

Having said that, I am not always accepting of the gift when given to me. I want to be... more... nicer... and yet, the more I need support the more prickly I become. Luckily my husband and my friends, Chuck and Maribeth, have me pegged. They let me squirm and push and shove, and just when I'm almost exhausted by the sheer effort of keeping them away, they pull up a chair. They have never failed me. Near or far. Not once.

I couldn't type today. My mind was unwilling to play hide-n-seek with my fears. That's okay. I called Maribeth. We met at Unlimited Coffee and sat by the soda cooler for a spell. We wreaked havoc and made each other laugh like we do, but mostly we just sat together, sipping coffee and tea, and looking at each other.

Tomorrow is Thursday.

Photo courtesy of Rustman

The Waiting Place

"Oh, the Places You'll Go!" is my favorite Dr. Seuss book. I give a special gift set to everyone I know when they are going from and moving on toward.

"The Waiting Place... for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting."

I live in the "small town" of Phoenix, Arizona with three million other people. The neighboring "small town" that I am also tethered to is San Diego, California. You would not believe how small these two cities really are. Three degrees of separation and often less make it difficult for me to write about matters too close to the bull's eye.

Myself and many people I love in these two towns are "headed, I fear, toward a most useless place." Waiting for a date, an opinion, or a check. Waiting for medication, a friend, or a sign. Waiting for a text, a tweet or a status update. Mostly waiting for a Yes or No.

Here's the tricky part - I'm happy. In fact, in the face of this craziness and indeterminate waiting, this limbo, I am writing more than ever and finding joy in the crevices of my life. Paying attention to the details? Not so much - cuz the details right now suck pretty bad. I think It's more like opening up wide. Like Sound-of-Music-spinning-on-the-hill kind of wide. (Sorry if I just put that song in your head.) Less like demanding the precision of a flashlight and more like adjusting my eyes to the glow of a lantern.

Today we waited again, and again we heard nothing. None of us.

Tomorrow is Monday.

Farther Than Flagstaff

Yesterday was eventful - some good, some not so good. Like every day I suppose, but yesterday felt like it had too much caffeine in the morning.

One high point was writing 1,988 words toward the first draft of the novel. Another high point was realizing I need to rewrite most of the story because it's not following the Google map I printed. A new character has completely thrown the narrative off of its course - and I'm really excited about that! So I'll pound out the next 10,000 words, and see where I can make a course correction. Who knows, I may have to start from a different place altogether. I love how it takes nearly 40,000 words to know where the story begins. Love that!

Another high point was talking with my Canadian-writer-friend, Sterling Lynch. He says he refers to me as just one of his writer-friends, without qualifying me as an American. I'm quite certain he's fibbing. I can't imagine him not using the opportunity to feel just a wee bit superior. Le sigh. :)

Also, Sterling is the publisher of Social Media Set the Stage. We co-wrote the story of our social media collaboration that culminated in a production of two our plays. The scripts are included! (See the graphic to the right.)

In any event, we are embarking on a couple of new projects together. Well, one new project together, and he's agreed to be the principle reader for one of my new projects, "Farther Than Flagstaff".

I wrote awhile back that I want to capture my the experience of living through the first ten years of my son's life. What it felt like to live beyond the numbers in his medical records. My son endured a life of -- well, you'll see, he endured. This project has been whirling around in my head for a few years. Only recently did the structure fall into place: letters. Writing letters to a new friend who doesn't know the story. Someone with whom I can share the narrative without the numbers - stories like "Farther Than Flagstaff." I feel a bit overwhelmed, but still curious to see what comes about on the page.

And finally, much to my relief, the Phoenix Suns beat the Portland Trailblazers and are up two games to one in the first round of the playoffs. Go planet orange!

Photo of Flagstaff courtesy of L. Brumm Photography

Finding Her Voice

My 14 year-old daughter, Sophie, wrote this piece about a month ago. I wanted to print it right away, "Do you want to publish it? You can put it up on my blog if you'd like."

She looked pensive. "I don't know. What if it sucks?"

Now she sounded like a writer! "Do you like it?"

"Yeah. But..."

"If you want to wait or whatever, that's perfectly okay. Really. No pressure."

"Wait. If you publish it on your blog, I want attribution." Now she sounded like an author!

I Finally Found my Overalls

My mom told me about a week ago that if I cleaned out my closet she would take me to get new clothes. Seeing as I desperately wanted new shirts this didn’t seam to be a bad idea. Today was a half day at school so I picked today to go through my closet.

It’s always interesting what you find in a closet. There is always a lot of “Hey I didn’t know I had that.” or “So THAT’S where my English paper was!” And, every once in a while you might find something you didn’t bargin for. Like these overalls.

I wore these almost everyday in second grade. During the summer it was just me, my best friend Ry, and the overalls. Climbing trees, pretending to be super genius wizards who could make a poison out of everyday items; we saw the world in a different way. That thing in the backyard it wasn’t a tree to us, it was a look out post over our entire kingdom. *Pauses*

But people grow up, and apart. And one day, one summer, there were no more kingdoms, no more crazy concoctions, no more happy endings. The overalls started to see less and less day light and I saw less and less of my best friend.

Years passed, schools passed, summers passed. New friends were made, I discovered what cell phones, make-up, and boyfriends were. But I never let go of that little second grade me who loved castles, adventures, and tree climbing. The little second grade me who loved her best friend. I did, however, start to lose my overalls. I would do whatever people said was the “right thing” the “cool thing” I was just looking to find a new best friend.

Back to today. I was cleaning out my closet, and I made two piles on my bed: keep and give-a-way. As I got to the back of my closet I figured I could just throw all of what was left into the give-a-way pile. But then I found my overalls, and this time, I didn’t let them go.

-Sophie Biddle

Too Tired To Title :)

I bet I woke up half a dozen times last night after falling asleep well after 1:00AM. Ugh. I can't complain too much because each time I awoke, a problem was worked out in the novel.

For example, I solved the question as to who gave the rabbit to Sara. I also learned the nickname Thomas gave Sara when they were little: "Skittles". I discovered when Sara's dad gave her the hat she's wearing at the bus stop in the story.

Am I becoming obsessed? I'm super tired this morning and not sure if I can type (although I probably will anyway) with any kind of sense-making skill. But that's what first drafts are made of - clumps of awakenings and discoveries and dreams.

I Learned So Much By Not Writing

Sara has a tattoo. I don’t know what the words are or the image is yet. I learned that her favorite color is orange and fall is her favorite season. Or was. Barney is not a dog; he’s a rabbit. I don’t know who gave him to her yet. I might not ever know the answer to that open query. I’m okay with that.

I learned that she’s ditching the lab for tech class to take the bus to this appointment. I know it doesn’t matter what time the bus comes, or if the place is closed, because she already knows the answer.

Her oldest friend has red hair, blue eyes, and doesn’t wear glasses. And he smokes. But, he’s the annoying kind of smoker who can smoke when he’s with smokers and then not smoke for months. He's a wanderer at heart and can’t wait to leave this country.

And finally I learned that she’s getting tired of telling this story. She feels like she’s almost done and wants to wrap up this very long day and go to bed. She also wants to skip school tomorrow, but she can’t.

I learned all of that collaging for three and a half hours this morning. So cool. :)

Photo courtesy of wwarby

Today's Entry -

Top Five Wishes for my birthday:

5. Breakfast in bed

4. The entire house all to myself for 48 hours.

3. NO laundry for one week (but it all gets done anyway)

2. A Tano purse of my choosing

and my number one wish for this birthday ---- *drum roll*

1. A Pretty Princess Easy Tear Out Coloring & Activity Book **

** If it doesn't have the activities section, I don't want it. :p

*** Btw, my birthday is the 29th. Of this month. It's a week from Thursday. ;-)

Image courtesy of Pink Cake Box