In Which Kailey Begins to Blog Again

Remember that one time I kept a blog? And I loved it? Yeah, I remember that too. When I went to London there was a demand from my friends and family that I keep one. People cared to share in the excitement of my life. But then I got home, and, at a particularly low time, I figured, “Why should I keep this going? No one cares. And blogging about your life is too self-focused.” Aside from the fact that I distinctly remember a couple of my friends from my church in London talking about how they wanted to keep up with my blog when I arrived safely in the US of A, the point of this blog was never for me to talk entirely about me. It was to share beautiful things that I experienced with beautiful people. And maybe start a conversation. This blog was made to connect with people. So without further ado, here I go again.

It occurs to me at this moment that given the fact that I seem to have dropped off the face of blogger.com about twelve-thirteen months ago, and given the fact that a thirteen month gap can change a person’s outlook on life, I will back up for context. This is what I learned in thirteen months of life. Incidentally, babies learn physical mobility and language in the same timespan. My question is, “Did I make that much progress?”

January 2014

Before I begin the rest of the months’ overviews, which I do hope will be summarized in fewer words than those of January of 2014 (ain’t nobody got time for this), I think it’s important to fully communicate the state of affairs at the beginning of this timespan. In the beginning, I experienced a combination of irrational sadness, lethargy, despondency, hopelessness, anger and apathy. This conglomerate of complementary feelings is often referred to as depression. The term depression doesn’t do the feeling (or lack thereof on some days) justice, because it’s hard to explain to a depressed-little-someone-who-feels-slightly-down-on-their-luck-today that you didn’t make it to class because you actually, factually, literally (not remotely figuratively) COULD NOT lift your head up off of your pillow to stop staring at the wall and cover your lower body with pants. The disparity between the two uses for such a word means people generally think of depression as a feeling attached to tangible phenomena in a person’s life and actually they should “just go for a walk in the fresh air and cheer up.” While well intentioned, this perspective is very often offensively wrong, and as a result I’m going to use the acronym, LADASH (Lethargy Apathy Despondency Anger Sadness Hopelessness) to describe what the term depression, stigmatized and trivialized, fails to communicate.

February 2014

The LADASH was strong with this one. But although this was a common state of being for me as a youngster, I started to be more open to the thought that maybe I didn’t have to live with LADASH. Maybe there was help.

March 2014

I finally went to get relief for my LADASH. I walked in hoping for anti-LADASH medication and walked out with not only that, but my very own label. Just for me! My label whipped out and punched me in the gut the first time it saw me in that psychiatrist’s office.  It straight-up broke my solar plexus for a couple of weeks while I fought for air and tried to realize that I am not dangerous, I am not inherently wrong, I am not a monster. I am a human made by someone who makes humans the way He needs them. In one moment my label made me feel like another statistic, stigmatized by years of beliefs that imbrute valuable members of society. When indoctrination comes to fruition, but you’re on the wrong side of us vs. them, it’s hard to remember your humanity. I spent March learning feel human again.

My very own liver-killing, anti-LADASH medication that came with my label. They help.

April 2014

If the eyes are the windows to your soul, my anti-LADASH medications  and the effort I exerted to learn how to carry my label were like glass cleaner. My eyes started to clear up and I saw that the world was bright and beautiful. And it was okay to let my guard down. To let people see my soul. The more I carried my label, the stronger I got, and the less I had to fight it.  My label got lighter and less awkward. It took less energy to lug around. The diminishing exertion of label-bearing meant I had more energy to look into the eyes of others. I saw that the world isn’t out to get me. I began to learn that people have beautiful souls.

May 2014

I got a job as a lifeguard at Englewood Recreation center. I found out my dog had cancer. I totaled my parent’s car. I lost my childhood dog, Peeto. The latter three happened in that order in the same day. Funny how one day can dominate a month in a person’s mind. May 9, 2014 my mother showed up to the scene of my car wreck and said, “This has probably been the worst day of your life.” My dog died hours later. Peeto had always been there when the going was tough. I bought him with my own money when I was (almost) seven-years-old. Now my life was tough, but it was tough without Peeto.

He was always a sucker for sunshine.

There's nothing quite like handing the body of your best friend over to a stranger in a cardboard box to be burned.

Oh yeah, and I decided to transfer to University of Colorado Denver from the University of Denver to study Singer/Songwriting instead of Piano Performance. I just couldn’t handle the way the culture of classical music killed the spirit of the music and battered the souls of musicians anymore.

June 2014

Swimming lessons. Lifeguarding. School Application Processes. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. The rest is a blur.

Did you know old people wake up and swim at ungodly hours in the morning? And some people have to guard pools while they do so. Thus the unholy amounts of caffeine.

July 2014

I turned 21. I had a tonsillectomy. I house sat for my friends. They have a zoo. But actually. Let me list the animals for you. They have since gotten more animals: Three dogs, one of whom was pregnant with twelve puppies; two cats, three kittens, a slew of rabbits, a slew of chickens, about six fish, five reptiles, three horses, and a llama named Mayflower. 
We also got a new puppy this month and named her Posie. 

Back Row Left to Right: Craig, Mariah, Thomas, Kailey, Monet, Elfreda; Front Row Left to Right: Wesley, Michael, Trystan

Our family came to visit. They're pretty cool. Thomas (the blasian in the back) is my grandfather's sister's son, but when her husband and one of her twins died in guerrilla crossfire, the remaining family lived with my grandparents for a while. He's sort of like an uncle because he's sort of like a brother to my mother. We call him Cousin-uncle Thomas. Which means his kids are like first cousins. Family relationships get complicated in the best ways sometimes.

This is the best we could do. We're all...just us. So if a picture is not blurry and includes part of all of our faces, we have succeeded. 

I cannot take Mayflower seriously. Also she projectile vomited on my head the first time I met her. It smelled horrendous.

This is Posie.

August 2014

I ran the color run with my cousin, this one guy, a friend from high school, and her friend.

This one guy is cool.

My family put down our thirteen-year-old leonberger, Teala. You know Nanny from Peter Pan? Teala was just like her. Trystan and I had curled up in the soft protection of her mastiff frame for most of our childhood. But now we are young adults, and Teala has gone to the place her Creator saw fit. I hope she’s with God.

He knew she was leaving.

Our last morning to cuddle with Teala

I got to hold her head.

SCHOOL! UCD was a good choice. It was a healthy choice. I was suddenly around regular people who had regular lives in a friendly world that was not isolated from the rest of the population. I no longer felt like I was trapped in a beautiful prison cell on the corner of Iliff and University. I could breathe. I was incredibly happy. I quit lifeguarding on a regular schedule.

September 2014

I got a job at the front desk of Englewood Recreation Center. School was amazing. I was hella lonely. Life was good. 

Wearing uniform and doing homework. Can there be a better representation of the above paragraph?

October 2014

Yay work! Yay school! Still loneliness. I ended up making one really good friend of one really cool person from high school.

I made this kick drum guys.

November 2014

Thanksgiving! Work! School! I have this thing where I’m afraid to try new things with new people. Like really afraid. My label doesn’t help that fear either. And one of the two friends I had made at UCD kept inviting me to activities with this group I had never heard of called Intervarsity Christian Fellowship. And my fear stayed me in the comfortable safety of crippling loneliness. UCD Friend #1 said that there were soccer pick up games on Wednesdays. And I meant to go five weeks in a row. And five weeks in a row, my fear made me otherwise occupied. Week six rolled around and I decided that come hell or high water I would force myself to show up for soccer and I would stay for one hour. And I did. I stayed the whole time. I was glad I did because I made friends.

My cool-friend-from-high-school's birthday was the same day as Thanksgiving. So I made him a birthday cake. It actually tasted amazing.

Forts with children. This makes life beautiful.

UCD Friend #1 AKA Gwen

December 2014

I was not lonely. I was happy. It turns out that no one wants to work over the holidays for some reason. I took a bunch of extra shifts and worked like a fiend. I hung out with friends. My audition to the Singer/Songwriter program at UCD was reviewed, and I was accepted. And all of this felt really good.

These guys practice their selfie magic far too often.

People celebrate Christmas. 

My gift made her this happy. Just saying.

January 2015

My grandfather died. My mother told me that of everyone in our family, it probably ached most for my Nonnie, and my cousin Wesley, and me. Of all of his descendants, I was his favorite and Wesley was runner-up for the most favorite grandchild position. My mother said that she loved watching my relationship with Papa because when he was with me, she could watch him at his best. She could see the colors of his most beautiful qualities. He was unlike anyone you’ll ever meet, and he wore his imperfections on his sleeve. But he was ours, and we always knew he loved us. My mother told me the other day that he still loves me. He’s just home now. I still love him. But I’m still here.

I love him. 

Death brings families together in the same place. While we were missing one very important member, it was incredibly nice to be altogether for the first time in years. 

Notice: Not blurry. All faces in photo. Success. 

 

I hadn't seen my cousin, Devin, in four years. We missed each other. I love him. Would you believe that we're both 25% black? No? Ignorance. We are the gingeroons. 

And this is the state of affairs.