Since Coming to College . . .

. . . I've learned not to place my happiness on the shoulders of those around me.

It took hours of sleeplessness, tears, and phone calls to my mother, but I have finally realized that putting the entirety of my emotional health into someone else's hands ends up being detrimental to both parties. This habit is one which I developed halfway through high school.  The silver lining? The fact that I developed it at all was because there was a very special person in my life at the time who was willing to carry me through the peaks and troughs of 16, 17, 18, and 19. But, as Chinua Achebe wrote, "things fall apart." During that age of heavy maturing, I realized that my happiness was at the mercy of someone who wasn't me, and why would that ever be something to desire? Now, as long as I have myself, I'm okay - and I'm very thankful to the person who taught me that, however painful it was for both of us.

. . . "cystic fibrosis" is no longer abstract.

Since the fifth grade, I've been admitted to the hospital two times a year. That was my routine, and as much as recurring lung infection can "work" for a person, it worked for me. Now, after watching my health decline more significantly and more quickly during these past 11 months than it ever has before, I've come to understand why the median life expectancy of someone as mutated as me is 37-years-old. Never in my life have I been able to imagine myself as an old lady, but I've never been able to imagine myself dying young, either. When I pondered the demise of my existence, it was always fuzzy. At the hand of my freshman year of college, with its loneliness and excitement and independence and busyness, there is a port permanently in my chest. Health insurance companies are knocking on my parents' door every day to collect bills I never used to acquire. I can no longer run up a flight of stairs (though I'm working on it). My health is now at a very tricky stage, and I'm forced to face that if I let myself go, today, I'd plummet. If I ignored my pills and physical therapy, I'd plummet. If I stopped exercising, I'd plummet. If I chose to stop fighting for my life, right now, there is a very big chance that I could begin to die. This is something I'm thinking about for the first time, but now that I am, I'm choosing to win. Now I CAN imagine myself dying young, but that's the only place where that scene will play: in my imagination.

. . . sandwiches have replaced cereal as my official "lazy meal."

Milk expires quickly. I don't have time to keep buying milk.

. . . I've stopped waiting.

There's something magical about saying "When I grow up . . . " with stars in our eyes. It elicits the idea that the future is a place of more possibility, luck, and motivation. Operating with the future in mind, we - naturally, as humans - become complacent. There's always tomorrow. There's always tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. But what if I don't want to grow up? What if my best friend revealed that my most sunshine-y quality is the fact that I am childlike? If I never grow up, where is my magical future where dreams are possible and motivation floods my blood? Well, I know I'm still (barely) a teenager, but I think it's here. I want to read and write and make videos and help people and spread awareness for cystic fibrosis, and I want to do those things seriously. Professionally. I'm never growing up, so I'm never going to receive a message from the universe that reads "Do it now." Why would I wait until graduation day to begin chasing my passions? To begin helping people? I wouldn't, so I'm not. And let me tell you, there are big, big things on the horizon.

Solemn Gratitude

Right now, I find myself struggling with the concept that life offers no paved path. While those who know what they love receive little guidance on which forks to take, those who are anchored to nothing have an even harder time of knowing where to go. As I've said and thought so many times in the past few weeks, the future is unwritten. And while I have superficially accepted this fact, I am admittedly lost.

Somehow, living in a wide open world is sometimes more terrifying than living in one with no choices. It's very tempting to feel alone--the people who previously surrounded me like winter children on a recess playground have now dispersed in every imaginable direction. At the blast of adulthood's gun, we are sprinting.

My life one year ago was unimaginably different than the life I am living now, and that is a wonderful thing. (It means I am growing.) When I take time out of my day to consider this disparity, I feel lucky: genuine friendships and newfound independence have flooded my life. However, I've realized how horribly easy it is to remain unsatisfied. To think I have no friends and I can't do this alone and I'm just going through the motions.

Perhaps this thought process is one of society's ultimate plagues. Perhaps if I, or you, or anyone could consistently remain in a state of thanks, each day would uphold its supreme value in our collective mind. Perhaps if we revisited being winter children on a recess playground, spring on a college campus would reemerge as wildly sweet.

A Change of Attitude

"Life stops for no one."

I feel like I read that quote at least once a month on Tumblr or Twitter or blahblah or hooha and it never fails to stop me in my tracks. Simply, it's just so true. I think of everything I've experienced in my nineteen years on this planet that has made me undeniably wish for a second--just a second to breathe--and I realize how strong I must be to have made it here. We are all so strong for making it here.

Wouldn't it be nice? Wouldn't it be nice if we had control like that? If we could say "World, I can't miss a week of college classes to go to the hospital right now--please pause college. Thanks!" If we could say "World, I need to grieve" or "World, I need to think" or "World, I need to rest." But, unfortunately, life stops for no one.

Here's to digging our heels in and living in real time.

S.O.O.

I was thinking of something today. Okay. So, I feel like everyone has a place, or a time, or an activity, or something-or-other where their soul finds peace. A something-or-other where it finally seems like everything is going to be okay. And then I thought to myself, "You know, Hannah, I bet consciously acknowledging those something-or-others is a really good way to find happiness." And you know what? I agree with myself. So, here I go.

My Something-Or-Others

1. Dancing: Okay, so this is typical. Any dancer would say this. But there's just some indescribable feeling that goes along to moving your body to a piece of music and knowing that other people are entertained by it. It's also cool to know that it used to be a huge medium for storytelling. Tap dancing really gives me that feeling more than any other style of dance, because I don't feel self-conscious when I tap. Honestly, when I dance, I completely forget about my real life. About all the problems and all the worries (unless it's a lyrical piece . . . in that case, I like to draw from my experiences to get true emotion on stage).
2. Writing: Writing gives me basically the opposite feeling as dancing does. Oftentimes, writing is a very painful and difficult process for me. Digging up everything that I pretend isn't there, the words that flow from my fingertips force me to deal with the crap I avoid. Poetry, in particular, really helps me deal with memories that are still raw. So, while writing is actually the time my soul feels the heaviest, it's also the time my soul feels the freest. Many people say that there is peace in ignorance, but I think that knowing is peaceful, because it forces you to find a solution. Or at least to stop pretending.
3. Sleeping: I'm not sure that this one needs an explanation, but the future usually seems to become less scary after a good nap.
4. Walking: I really like taking walks. And through making this list, I've realized that I don't take enough of them. Night walks are great, because the air just tastes so fresh and the stars just seem so bright, but I'm actually kinda scared of the dark. Maybe, if I could just wake earlier, I could take pretty morning walks. They're so soothing. (Running, on the other hand, is my bane.)
5. The minutes after a long cough attack: While hacking my lungs out with a reddened face isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, my lungs always feel sooooo good after I've spent a good ten minutes punishing them with giant coughs. Unlike in my usual state, this something-or-other allows me to take HUGE breaths without stabbing pain or a tickling throat.
6. The movie theater: If it wasn't so darn expensive, I would go more often! I like how all responsibility seems to fade away when you're watching a movie in the theater. It's like you're telling the world, "For the next 150 minutes, I am completely unreachable!" And, c'mon, with a giant bucket of warm, buttery popcorn on your lap, it's like the spa for your soul.
7. After finishing a huge assignment: Much like my cough attacks, this isn't enjoyable during the process. Only after. I love that "Ahhhh!" feeling. Maybe I should use that as motivation to further push myself.

These aren't all of my something-or-others, but I think it's a good start. Hopefully, now that I've recognized where my soul feels happy, I'll be able to enjoy these states more and spend more time smiling.