Hurt. Hope. Healing. Humanity.

It's hurt to write lately and if I'm honest with you, it's hurt to do most things. 2020 has been far from kind. Kinda feel like in the last three months, I've lived the whole year and then some.

At the beginning of the year I promised myself that 2020 would be better, but by the the middle of January I had lost a job and applied for another one that I ended up not getting. Two weeks in a row during the month of February I found myself in the emergency room, barely able to get a deep breath, and ended up finding out it was all because I had a separated/fractured rib.

So when March got here, I had high hopes that things would start looking up.

Every morning for two months or so, my grandparents and I texted each other a countdown of the days until I'd be catching an afternoon flight to see them for the first time in years. For weeks leading up to that day, I was so excited to finally be getting that chance that I pre-packed as much of my suitcase as I could. Every day I was up before the sun, getting ready for work and thinking, "today might be hard, but at least I'll be hugging them soon." Then Covid-19 hit hard, the flight was canceled, and halfway through unpacking my suitcase the next morning I think I felt the worst heartbreak I've ever experienced.

My heart still hurts knowing I'm supposed to be there now, instead of in my empty apartment catching up on emails and struggling to find the basics when I go to the grocery store. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it all. I'm still listening to everyone who's been telling me, "it'll be okay, things will get better, you'll get a chance to see them soon, this is hard for everyone," and I'm understanding of it all but I'm still allowing myself to be sad and angry about it because I believe feeling things out is important. And I feel like of the things in this world to be upset about, not getting to see family when you thought you would is an understandable one. Especially when half a country and too many years at a time separate you.

When all of this is over, I'm going to be one of the first people back on a plane and I'm going to have to hug them twice as hard.
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I still don't have the heart to really write about all the things I've felt since I woke up to a phone notification that my senior year had essentially ended overnight. I'm not sure it's possible right now for me to put that into words. I definitely didn't anticipate a global pandemic.

This was the first picture I ever got as a student at WSU. My mom spent the evening on campus with me, walking around to find the buildings where my classes would be my first semester to help ease my anxiety. We admired the tulips and the sculptures scattered around, and laughed about all the madness the next four years would hold for me. The long nights, the probable caffeine addiction, the new experiences, the challenges that would come along with being welcomed into the adult world, the organizations I'd join, the risks I'd take, the people I'd meet, the money I'd have to make to keep it all going, the busy days I'd have to get through, everything. And I remember thinking then, even as excited as I was for it to start, that I couldn't wait for May of 2020 to arrive. I couldn't wait to be done. I hate graduations, but I still wanted one. Not for the ceremony or the celebration itself, but because it was going to mean my family was all going to be together in one place for one thing. I still wanted everybody I love to be here to help me wrap up the four craziest years of my life. Not knowing when or if that'll ever happen... that's been hard for me. That's been really, really heavy. 

Wichita State was and will always be a lot more than a school to me. Until I got there, I didn't know what it was like to feel at home or even to feel truly alive. It was where I went whenever I needed some time to think or a space to create. It gave me a lot of experiences I never saw coming. I pushed myself beyond every inch of my comfort zone and learned a lot more than what was taught to me in lecture halls. It was where I started saying "yes" to so many different opportunities that people started telling me I was taking on too much. When I came here I knew I wanted to study people -- but that was it. I didn't know I'd end up finding out what it means to be passionate about something. I didn't know I'd get a chance to be a part of Kappa Kappa Gamma and I'm grateful for that even after leaving. For the late nights, the sisterhood events, the laughing, the sisters who would high-five me in the halls whenever we saw one another. All of it.

I didn't know I'd get to take on a leadership role in Sigma Alpha Pi and meet both friends and mentors through the process. I didn't know I'd get to be a part of The Sunflower student newspaper staff, or that I'd get to hold a real human heart in a cadaver lab, or that a jail tour requirement for one of my classes would lead me to fall in love with making a life out of helping incarcerated youth. I didn't know I'd find myself on a 25 hour bus ride to Washington DC my freshman year to play a part in one of the biggest political movements I've been alive for. I didn't know this would be where I'd meet the man I'm living with now and plan to marry someday.

And it's funny in a sense, because as soon as this semester started to get a little chaotic I really felt like I was ready for it to be over. I thought I was ready to walk, and to finally have that degree, and to just be done -- but I kept showing up ready to embrace all the "lasts" that it would hold. My last first day of classes, my last time sitting in the RSC sipping coffee, my last time studying before holding my degree in my hands, my last final exam, my last walk across campus as an undergrad, and I'll stop there because I think by now you get the picture. I couldn't wait for it to end, and now that it has I'd do anything to get it back the way it was. Every morning when I woke up for my morning lecture, all I could keep saying to myself was, "Enjoy this while you can because it'll all end soon." And then it ended without me even knowing. Thursday morning I went to my lecture class just like I had for three and a half years-- and Friday morning I learned that all in-person classes were canceled along with my graduation ceremony. I wish I would've known. I would've liked to take my time walking to and from class that afternoon. I would've sat in the RSC for a few more minutes, listening to the conversations taking place around me while I sipped a coffee and wrote. I would've made the time even if I didn't think I had it -- because as crazy as my 3 and 3/4 years there were, there was an awful lot about it all that I loved and I hate that it got cut short. That still doesn't seem real to me. I keep thinking it can't be. I keep thinking that all of what's been happening so far this year is just a really wild nightmare and that when I wake up, I'll be able to step back onto the campus with a healed rib and hug my friends again and then graduation day will be everything I hoped it would be with everyone who matters in my world. I'm still struggling a lot, knowing that that isn't how things are going to go -- but I do know that things will get better. At the very least, I'll be writing more. 
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Most people my age would probably be thrilled to get some time off of work or to work from home instead -- but that's where I'm different again. I'm so grateful for the job I have and that I get to continue to do it. That I get to show up still and serve people. The other morning it was so foggy outside that I could hardly see my office building, and I can't tell you why but that was comforting. I think it was because for a while now, that's exactly how I've felt. Foggy. Hard to navigate through. But I walked inside to a seemingly larger number of good-mornings and how-are-yous than in the months prior, and for just a minute everything felt right again. Humanity is powerful. 

In the grand scheme of things, right now I know very little. Change, uncertainty, challenge, vulnerability, and humanity all seem to be universal themes right now and as intimidating as that is... I'm comforted by the idea that it's not just me. It's not like I'm coming out of college and being thrown into a world where everybody already knows what to do and what'll happen. Instead, I'm adapting. Learning new ways to get done what I need to get done, and doing it alongside professors and professionals who are in the exact same spot. I've heard more people freely and shamelessly admit in the last few weeks that they don't know quite what they're doing than I have in my entire life and I think that's incredible. 

My professors spent their entire spring breaks learning how to completely change the way they run their classes so students can still get a good education online. 

Every coworker I have is a professional in their field and these people have adapted to new and completely different ways of doing their work just to continue helping others. 

Parents of kids I babysit are having to play both parent AND teacher all of a sudden and for them to take that on with a good attitude and a willingness to do so much more than they're used to doing day in and day out indefinitely... that's incredible too. 

If you know me very well at all you've probably heard me say it once or maybe a million times... but HUMANITY. FIRST. Always. 

Covid-19 has taken and continues to take a lot from us, but it will never take away our humanity so be good to each other now and forever. 

I've spent an awful lot of time lately being a lot of things. Hurt, anxious, uncomfortable, angry, and even just numb for days at a time. Mostly because everything I've been looking forward to has been canceled and because this year has felt like one punch in the face after another... after another. With where we are now, I can pretty safely say I'm not alone in that. My instinct is usually to write, especially when things are hard, but I've been too exhausted most days to even begin. But this? This feels good. 

I have a lot of faith in people -- in my people in particular. They've had my back and will continue to. They've worked hard to get where they are and nothing can stop them. They're generous and strong and they have spark. They're passionate and kind and I just... I can't wait to hug every single one of them when this is all over. 

Back in January, before this all started, I was babysitting a three year old who cried when we couldn't find her favorite blanket. I sat her down on the couch, put on her favorite movie, and made us a bowl of popcorn while her brother got ready for bed. When I brought the popcorn back to her and let her snuggle back into my lap, with tears streaming down her face but still smiling she looked right at me and said, "I love you. You should come to my house for breakfast. Pancakes."

Very grateful for that moment in my life because it was great when it happened, and it almost gets greater every time I play it back in my head. 

I love you too, kiddo. You probably have no idea what's going on in the world right now, but I promise you when it's over, I'll make that happen. Thank you for giving me something new to look forward to. 

xox

things will get better

things will get better

things will get better