Why You Gotta Be So Mean?!

It has come to my attention that most of my posts have been about my life and experiences, and some of you want material that you can more readily identify with. As you wish...

Occasionally there are commonplace situations that other people accept as normal; however, these situations make me want to pull my hair out (you'll understand why that is significant if you read my post "I am a Trichster"). When these circumstances occur I raise my voice, my blood-pressure rises, I start using expansive hand gestures, my face turns colors. When I go into these fits my friends call it "Ranting with Katelyn!" and overall, it just isn't a pretty picture. On today's episode of Ranting with Katelyn we are discussing Mean Girls (and no, I'm not referring to the movie, although it does supply good examples of what I am talking about).  

If I were a betting woman, I would be willing to bet that everyone has known at least one Mean Girl in their life. Odds are that you have known more than one, as they tend to travel in packs, so I will not try to define what a Mean Girl is, exactly. What I'm more concerned with is why they feel the need to act the way they do: negative attitudes, rude and demeaning comments, and vicious forms of torture. Basically, Mean Girls are just bullies who use words, not violence, as their weapons.

Usually Mean Girls appear in middle or high school. They, along with the rest of the population at that age,  are having a hard time figuring out who they are and where they fit in. Instead of dealing with their insecurities and issues, they form cliques and harass others. They pick on the loner who is too shy to make friends; they abuse the overweight girl in the locker room, and tell her to "put the cupcake down and walk away." They insult the tomboy by calling her a "slut" since she only has male friends; they label the boy with disabilities a "freak" because he isn't as physically able as most. I don't know about all of you, but I've experienced at least one of those situations (and others) and frankly, I'm tired of it. I think they need to grow up. 

This is what I have to say to Mean Girls: Get over yourself. You are not the only person having a hard time. You are not the only one struggling to figure out who you are. You are not the only person to feel insecure about yourself; however, you are the person that is making everyone else's life that much harder. Trust me when I say that we have our own problems to deal with without you making us feel even worse about our insecurities. We know that we may not be the prettiest girl in school, but we don't need your help to make us feel like the ugliest, either. We know that we aren't the skinniest girl, but there is no need for you to prance around in your size 2 mini-skirt when we already feel inadequate in our size 12 dress. Basically, just stop. Stop terrorizing other people to make yourself feel better, and stop tormenting those who are having a rough time as it is. Instead, focus on loving yourself, and dealing with all of your uncertainties. Actually make your life better instead of feeling better about it because you are making those around you truly miserable.

While it would be wonderful if every Mean Girl took this advice and tried to improve themselves, I am realistic and know that it will not happen; however, that doesn't mean that all of the other people have to just sit back and deal with all of the nasty, hateful things that Mean Girls do. I guarantee that there are more people who feel like they are alone than there are Mean Girls when they are in cliques. If the "loners" all banded together and supported one another, they could diminish the power that Mean Girls have and ultimately feel better about themselves sooner. It's like when the 84 band kids cower in the corners of the hallway because 5 popular kids mock them. That makes absolutely no sense to me. If everyone who is suffering comes together to take down those who are making them suffer, then the world should be a better place. Now, this is not to say that you should become a Mean Girl yourself, but that you should stand up for yourself and not let anyone tell you that you are worthless.

If you can't form a support group to defend yourself, do not worry. You aren't alone. It is one of the toughest thing in life to do, to take down that constant negative force harping at you. But take comfort in knowing that this will not last forever. High school will eventually end, and you will blossom into the magnificent person that you were meant to be, no matter what people from your past have told you. I think Taylor Swift said it best in her song "Mean" when she said that someday you will be the better person, and they will still just be mean.

If this post has hit close to home for you (whether you identify with the Mean Girls or those being picked on) and would like to talk, please feel free to comment, or message me.   I will do my best to give you a hug and a juice-box, and help you through whatever tough time you are dealing with.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE

All Them Teeth and No Toothbrush

"My Mama says that alligators are ornery because they got all them teeth and no toothbrush." Anyone who has watched the movie The Waterboy recognizes this line, as it tries to explain the aggressive nature of alligators. While it is true that alligators are aggressive at times, it is also true that I find them adorable and would love to own one as a pet! 

Most people, when talking about the animals they want as a pet, list creatures like cats, dogs, rabbits, lizards, and occasionally snakes. But I've never heard of someone (besides myself) who stated that they wanted an alligator as a pet. When I do tell people that I want a pet alligator they look at me like I escaped from the Psychiatric Ward, and immediately start telling me why having an alligator as a pet is a bad idea. Since I am apparently the only person who would love an alligator as a pet, I would like to explain my point of view to everyone else. 

Alligators are independent. You may see a few gathered together, but most full-grown alligators live by themselves. They take care of themselves, find their own food, and they are content in doing so. The females might stick with their young for a short while, but they are teaching them what it takes to survive, and then everyone is on their own. As a woman who takes pride in independence, I love this quality about alligators. 

Alligators are smarter than we give them credit for. They may not be as intelligent as scientists claim that dolphins are, and they may not be as emotionally intelligent as canines, but they are still smart in their own right. Take for example the way an alligator goes about finding food: you don't see alligators thrashing around haphazardly in an attempt to catch something to eat. No. Instead, they are calm and steady themselves in the water... they wait for the prey to come to them... and when the timing is just right....SNAP!  They have the perfect  individual-size dinner. Of course, there are times when the animal that is supposed to be dinner fights back or is more of a mouthful than the alligator originally thought; however, this does not stump Miss Gator. Determined (another trait that I admire) to not let anything get the better of her, Ali-Gator assesses the situation and comes to the conclusion that her current tactics will not be enough to defeat her opponent. This is when she uses her fail-proof tail-swish maneuver, The Death Roll! First, if an alligator uses the Death Roll against you, it means that you will not be alive much longer. No matter how big and bad you are, when an alligator gets a hold of you and does a Death Roll then you are done. Second, how flipping sweet is it to have a weapon called The Death Roll in your arsenal?! 

I also happen to think that alligators are just adorable. I don't know if it is the toddler-like swivel they do on land when walking, or if it is because when they open their jaws that I think of them as smiling all the time. Perhaps I am drawn to alligators because everyone else regards them as ugly and dangerous. Where others see a mindless, menacing monster, I see a beautiful creature who lurks in the water in an attempt to avoid all the negative comments that other people are saying about her.

There are those who have accused me of simply wanting to own an alligator as a pet to show my superior status. And if that is all I wanted, then why didn't I get an animal that is easier to get along with, like a penguin..? First, I do not want an alligator as a status symbol. I just like alligators. Second, I want an animal that would fit into my life, instead of me having to rearrange my living situation in order to accommodate it. Penguins, for example, would turn my world upside down: I would have to keep my house freezing, literally, and those who know me know that I hate being cold. I would have to buy different types of food for the penguins than for me. Penguins eat a lot of fish, and I do not eat fish at all, which would cost me more money. Eventually I would end up hating the penguin because I would have no money, I would be cold all the time, and my house would always smell like fish.
Having a pet alligator doesn't seem like such a bad idea in my case, though. They live in warmer climates, so I would be comfortable temperature-wise; they are able to live in water or on land, which is a plus since I mostly live on land but greatly enjoy being in the water. Plus, I wouldn't have to buy anything special to feed an alligator. I would buy my normal food (with things like chicken and steak) and simply share my meals with my pet alligator, who I would name Sinatra, by the way. This way, Sinatra is still eating well, I'm not spending extra money on pet food (and a little bonus is that I would lose weight because of sharing my food. haha). An alligator just fits in my life.

I think that what I've written makes a lot of sense in explaining why I love alligators so much. But maybe I'm a bit biased. It could be that all of these things are justifications for a weird-girl liking an odd animal. What do you think? What do you think it says about me that alligators are my favorite animal?

"Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators."

I am a Trichster

Fair warning: This is a more serious post. 

Everyone has stress, but not everyone deals with it the same way. Some people overeat, some turn to drugs and alcohol, some become violent, and others simply cry the day away. While I have thought of using these coping mechanisms on different occasions, the aforementioned are not how I deal with stress. Instead, I am a Trichster. 

Trichotillomania is best defined as an impulse-control disorder where an individual pulls out his or her own hair in an attempt to provide relief from tension or anxiety. I have this disorder, and am therefore called a Trichster.

I believe this started one day in middle school: I couldn't handle being the weird-girl without friends; I hated that I was the social outcast and that classmates considered me ugly and fat; I resented the fact that I was kind to everyone around me, and yet had no one to even call an ally. Once I was home, in an attempt to make myself prettier, I grabbed a pair of tweezers and attacked my eyebrows trying to thin them out; however, instead of focusing on how I looked, I was mesmerized by the feeling I had when I was pulling: the physical aspect was painful, but once I pulled a hair I felt a sense of "release." The moment when I had successfully pulled a hair was a stress-free moment, and that was nice.But the stress-free moment would quickly end and I would have the urge to pull another hair, and this cycle continued.

Without realizing it, I sort of developed this addiction to pulling my hair out. I pulled from my eyebrows, my eyelashes, and my scalp. All for the temporary relief that it gave me. Of course, when life became overwhelming, the attempt to gain temporary relief left me with bald patches in all of the previously mentioned locations. I had to draw on my eyebrows, apply extra eyeliner and mascara to hide the gaps in my eyelashes, and I could only wear my hair a certain way so that no one would notice the dime-sized bald spots on my head. There were times when I didn't feel as stressed out and anxious, but high school was definitely my toughest time. Senior year (what I consider my lowest point) is when I had to pull out all the stops: I didn't have any eyebrows, I didn't have any eyelashes, and the hair on my  head was minimal at best. I couldn't go swimming for fear that the makeup would wash off and people would see what I really looked like. I lost countless hours of sleep trying to hide my condition from family: I would stay up later than everyone so they didn't see me when I washed my makeup off at night, and I would get up earlier than everyone the next day to put makeup back on before they knew any better. I was ashamed of myself and had started to believe that my classmates were right in calling me worthless. This complete abhorrence I had for myself only perpetuated the tension I experienced, and therefore the pulling cycle.

Once I got out of high school and away from that toxic environment and its inhabitants, I didn't have nearly as much trouble with my Trichotillomania. I realized that I wasn't this hideous monster like people had claimed, but that I had a lot to offer the world. This is not to say that I am cured of Trichotillomania by any means; I still have stress and pull my hair out every once in a while, but it is nowhere near the extent that it was in high school. I have done tons of research about the disorder and found comfort in knowing that I am not the only person suffering from it. I've tried implementing tricks to keep my hands busy so that I am not able to pull, but have found that those fixes are only temporary.

Most of the success I achieved when battling my Trichotillomania came after I accepted who I was. I had to learn to love myself, and not believe all the negative things that other people said about me before a big chunk of my anxiety would ease up. I had to accept that I was not perfect, and that not everyone was going to like me, but that I was still a good person and deserved at least basic courtesies. I am still working on fine-tuning these ideas in my mind, and often struggle to feel comfortable telling everyone about my disorder; however, I am trying to come to terms with, and love the person that I truly am, and all that encompasses, which includes me having Trichotillomania.

So....my name is Katelyn and I am a Trichster.

Upward Bound!

This summer I had the privilege of working with the Upward Bound program; for those of you who don't know, the UB program provides opportunities for high school participants to succeed in their pre-college performance and ultimately in their higher education pursuits. Working with this program was one of the most enjoyable experiences I've had the opportunity to be a part of.

Bosses

My bosses were wonderful. They were all caring, goal-oriented, smart people. They were concerned with the betterment of the students in the program, and did everything they could to encourage the students in all of their life pursuits.

Co-workers 

 I started this job knowing that three of my best friends would also be my coworkers. I also knew that I would have a ton of fun at this job because of them, if for no other reason; however, what I didn't know was that I would develop friendships with the rest of my coworkers. Each with his or her own distinct personality and style, the TAs of the Upward Bound program helped make my summer outstanding.

Students

The students in the Upward Bound program are what made my summer truly spectacular. There were about 80 students in the program, and I love each of them.  I enjoyed them coming home from classes and telling me about their day; I enjoyed sitting around the table and having family dinner with them; I enjoyed tucking them into bed at night and singing them a lullaby to fall asleep to. But mostly I enjoyed simply being a part of their lives.
There was a good portion of the students that called me Momma, and I guess in a way I acted as such. I helped with their homework, listened when they were having problems with relationships, made sure they were eating enough (including a cookie for dessert every now and again), gave them hugs everyday, and protected them like they were my own children. While I know that none of them are actually my children, I will always refer to them as my kids, no matter how old we are, or where life may take us. I am so thankful that the students of the Upward Bound program gave me the opportunity to be involved in their worlds, and I hope that I have made half the impact on their lives as I know they have on mine.