Class of 2006
The formula for comedy is Tragedy+Time. Live through the tragedy and I promise you will laugh again.
At sixteen I was a closeted lesbian (although looking back, I think the large Bob Marley t-shirts, comfortable footwear and massive crush on one J. Smith * were pretty dead giveaways to everyone around me). I was taking more AP classes than I should have been and failing at many of them. I felt distant from my parents, disconnected from my brother, and guarded from my friends. I spent most of my time at school sleeping through first period, bitching about not having enough sleep through second period, torturing my teacher and fellow students with terrible jokes through third period, and finally staring out the window for the rest of the day hoping that tomorrow everything would be different.
I remember thinking that there was so much pressure on me to be something and someone that I simply could not be. I was not going to be the girl on the sports teams, in all the school clubs, with fantastic grades and the ability to actually straighten her hair without burning it. I was the girl who found a place in the art room. Despite being loud and undisciplined, I could be myself there. Most importantly, I felt safe there. I didn’t feel the pressure to get into a top college or to look a certain way or get the best grades. I was able to hold a paintbrush and let all of the ruckus in the hallways melt away. It helped me cope and was my outlet. I had the most amazing teacher who taught us not only about what it was to be artists, but also what it was to be people. I don’t know that many high school teachers who have students from ten years ago still coming to visit them. But she does and for very good reason.
I went to Virginia Commonwealth University. I got in because of that safety I found in the art room. Nestled in the heart of Richmond, VCU is ranked as one of the top five art schools in the country. It has an incredible medical campus with massive research facilities. VCU is a top notch university with amazing programs in fine arts, social work, business etc. But when I was in high school in Northern Virginia, VCU was seen as “not UVA or Tech.”
VCU was one of the few schools I could get into. I remember getting waitlisted at another Virginia school and thinking I was worthless and stupid. But what I lacked in grades I was able to make up for with a quality painting portfolio and the ability to bullsh*t a college application essay. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go to college but I knew that if I didn’t I would have been ostracized and treated as less. No teenager should have to feel that way. We all have to go to school, but it should be our decision of whether we want to continue our education. I would never say I regret the decision to go to university. I truly believe that education is the most important thing in a person’s life. But I do regret letting the pressure around me to fit into a cookie cutter mold inform many of the decisions that I made.
I didn’t begin at VCU. After I graduated high school I went to Maryland Institute College of Art. My painting portfolio is what got me accepted to the colleges I applied to so I figured I would study that. I liked going to a school that barely anyone knew about. I liked that I was going to a specialty school. It made me feel different and somehow more important. When other kids would say they went to UVA or Virginia Tech, I didn’t have to lower my head and say I was going to one of the “lesser” Virginia schools. Looking back, that thought process is idiotic. I left MICA after one year with masses of student loans and art credits that would barely transfer anywhere.
I took my time. I started at Northern Virginia Community College. I got my associates degree and discovered what it was like to work, go to school and survive living with my parents post high school (It wasn’t much fun for either of us) I did drugs, I drank alcohol. I felt lonely and awkward. And then I fell in love.
I met a girl who loved me and let me love her. She changed the way I saw myself. She made me want to be a better person. She encouraged me to come out to my family and friends and to love myself just as much as I loved her. I became active in the gay community. I realized what I really wanted to do and wanted to study. I reapplied to VCU and was accepted with scholarships. I moved to Richmond and found a lovely apartment and made friends that have become like a second family. I created the life for myself that I had always wanted. I stopped using humor as a defense mechanism and instead channeled it into an actual job. I performed in plays and wrote stand-up comedy. I started to love learning again. I was past all the bullsh*t papers and worksheets and bubbled in answers on scantrons. I now had a hunger to learn and to become the best person I could be.
That is not to say that it was all sunshine and (gay) rainbows from then on out. The girl I fell in love with left me. I developed a serious alcohol problem and self-medicated for years. I had a series of bad relationships with people who treated me poorly or who I treated poorly. But I learned from all of those experiences. I simultaneously experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But I realized that experiencing the tragedy is what makes the comedy of life so much richer.
I tried to take my own life when I was in high school when I was sixteen. I wrote a note to my family and went to bed expecting to be free of the life I so hated at that time. Every single morning I am thankful that I woke up. If I hadn’t, I would never have experienced the love of amazing people, the gorgeous views at the tops of mountains after long hikes, the smell of my dog’s breath on my face every morning. Every kiss or failed kiss or smart ass comment would have ceased to exist for me. I would never have been able to tell J. Smith that I thought she was the bee’s knees. But I did wake up that morning. And I did get to have those amazing first kisses and failed kisses, long hikes and road trips with friends. I got to see Picasso’s in real life and work at a job that makes me happier than I ever could have imagined. I got to sober up and learn to value myself. I got to hear J.Smith say she thought I was the bee’s knees too.
I currently work at a non-profit organization that works with LGBTQ youth. We are an advocacy group and our slogan is “helping kids be themselves.” I recently spoke to a few of the kids that I work with about recent suicides of high school students from the school where I graduated. One boy said, “I felt that way sometimes. But you told me you were proud of me and it made me want to be proud of me too.” I want to write this as an open letter to ANY person who feels like there is no one out there who loves them. No one should have to ever feel alone. I don’t have all the answers. I have definitely made plenty of mistakes and I will continue to do so. Sometimes I feel that loneliness too. But I have grown enough to know that it will pass. There is always someone to talk to, even if it’s a hotline or your dog. There is always someone who values you and is proud of you even if you don’t value yourself.
If you haven’t heard it today, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for reading this letter. I’m proud of you for reflecting on who you are. I’m proud of you for being a fellow human being. Without you the world is not as bright. Do not sell yourself and those around you short. Be courageous. Ask for help if you need it. Don’t let yourself become just a memory. We all feel lonely, sad, disappointed and scared. Sometimes we feel all of that at the same time. But we also all feel loved, happy, encouraged and courageous.
The formula for comedy is Tragedy+Time. Live through the tragedy and I promise you will laugh again.
* Names have been changed.
You are not alone. Together we can be resilient. However, this website is not to be used in place of therapy or other forms of help. Non-judgmental help is available 24-7: Call Crisis Link at 1-800-273-TALK(8255). Text with a Crisis Text Line specialist, by texting “TALK” to 741-741. (You can also go to your nearest emergency room or call 911.)
You can also chat online with a specialist at CrisisChat.org (between 2pm and 2am) or ImAlive.org. Many other links to various types of assistance are also available on our RESOURCES page. Help is out there. Reach out, for yourself, or for someone else.
The formula for comedy is Tragedy+Time. Live through the tragedy and I promise you will laugh again.
At sixteen I was a closeted lesbian (although looking back, I think the large Bob Marley t-shirts, comfortable footwear and massive crush on one J. Smith * were pretty dead giveaways to everyone around me). I was taking more AP classes than I should have been and failing at many of them. I felt distant from my parents, disconnected from my brother, and guarded from my friends. I spent most of my time at school sleeping through first period, bitching about not having enough sleep through second period, torturing my teacher and fellow students with terrible jokes through third period, and finally staring out the window for the rest of the day hoping that tomorrow everything would be different.
I remember thinking that there was so much pressure on me to be something and someone that I simply could not be. I was not going to be the girl on the sports teams, in all the school clubs, with fantastic grades and the ability to actually straighten her hair without burning it. I was the girl who found a place in the art room. Despite being loud and undisciplined, I could be myself there. Most importantly, I felt safe there. I didn’t feel the pressure to get into a top college or to look a certain way or get the best grades. I was able to hold a paintbrush and let all of the ruckus in the hallways melt away. It helped me cope and was my outlet. I had the most amazing teacher who taught us not only about what it was to be artists, but also what it was to be people. I don’t know that many high school teachers who have students from ten years ago still coming to visit them. But she does and for very good reason.
I went to Virginia Commonwealth University. I got in because of that safety I found in the art room. Nestled in the heart of Richmond, VCU is ranked as one of the top five art schools in the country. It has an incredible medical campus with massive research facilities. VCU is a top notch university with amazing programs in fine arts, social work, business etc. But when I was in high school in Northern Virginia, VCU was seen as “not UVA or Tech.”
VCU was one of the few schools I could get into. I remember getting waitlisted at another Virginia school and thinking I was worthless and stupid. But what I lacked in grades I was able to make up for with a quality painting portfolio and the ability to bullsh*t a college application essay. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go to college but I knew that if I didn’t I would have been ostracized and treated as less. No teenager should have to feel that way. We all have to go to school, but it should be our decision of whether we want to continue our education. I would never say I regret the decision to go to university. I truly believe that education is the most important thing in a person’s life. But I do regret letting the pressure around me to fit into a cookie cutter mold inform many of the decisions that I made.
I didn’t begin at VCU. After I graduated high school I went to Maryland Institute College of Art. My painting portfolio is what got me accepted to the colleges I applied to so I figured I would study that. I liked going to a school that barely anyone knew about. I liked that I was going to a specialty school. It made me feel different and somehow more important. When other kids would say they went to UVA or Virginia Tech, I didn’t have to lower my head and say I was going to one of the “lesser” Virginia schools. Looking back, that thought process is idiotic. I left MICA after one year with masses of student loans and art credits that would barely transfer anywhere.
I took my time. I started at Northern Virginia Community College. I got my associates degree and discovered what it was like to work, go to school and survive living with my parents post high school (It wasn’t much fun for either of us) I did drugs, I drank alcohol. I felt lonely and awkward. And then I fell in love.
I met a girl who loved me and let me love her. She changed the way I saw myself. She made me want to be a better person. She encouraged me to come out to my family and friends and to love myself just as much as I loved her. I became active in the gay community. I realized what I really wanted to do and wanted to study. I reapplied to VCU and was accepted with scholarships. I moved to Richmond and found a lovely apartment and made friends that have become like a second family. I created the life for myself that I had always wanted. I stopped using humor as a defense mechanism and instead channeled it into an actual job. I performed in plays and wrote stand-up comedy. I started to love learning again. I was past all the bullsh*t papers and worksheets and bubbled in answers on scantrons. I now had a hunger to learn and to become the best person I could be.
That is not to say that it was all sunshine and (gay) rainbows from then on out. The girl I fell in love with left me. I developed a serious alcohol problem and self-medicated for years. I had a series of bad relationships with people who treated me poorly or who I treated poorly. But I learned from all of those experiences. I simultaneously experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But I realized that experiencing the tragedy is what makes the comedy of life so much richer.
I tried to take my own life when I was in high school when I was sixteen. I wrote a note to my family and went to bed expecting to be free of the life I so hated at that time. Every single morning I am thankful that I woke up. If I hadn’t, I would never have experienced the love of amazing people, the gorgeous views at the tops of mountains after long hikes, the smell of my dog’s breath on my face every morning. Every kiss or failed kiss or smart ass comment would have ceased to exist for me. I would never have been able to tell J. Smith that I thought she was the bee’s knees. But I did wake up that morning. And I did get to have those amazing first kisses and failed kisses, long hikes and road trips with friends. I got to see Picasso’s in real life and work at a job that makes me happier than I ever could have imagined. I got to sober up and learn to value myself. I got to hear J.Smith say she thought I was the bee’s knees too.
I currently work at a non-profit organization that works with LGBTQ youth. We are an advocacy group and our slogan is “helping kids be themselves.” I recently spoke to a few of the kids that I work with about recent suicides of high school students from the school where I graduated. One boy said, “I felt that way sometimes. But you told me you were proud of me and it made me want to be proud of me too.” I want to write this as an open letter to ANY person who feels like there is no one out there who loves them. No one should have to ever feel alone. I don’t have all the answers. I have definitely made plenty of mistakes and I will continue to do so. Sometimes I feel that loneliness too. But I have grown enough to know that it will pass. There is always someone to talk to, even if it’s a hotline or your dog. There is always someone who values you and is proud of you even if you don’t value yourself.
If you haven’t heard it today, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for reading this letter. I’m proud of you for reflecting on who you are. I’m proud of you for being a fellow human being. Without you the world is not as bright. Do not sell yourself and those around you short. Be courageous. Ask for help if you need it. Don’t let yourself become just a memory. We all feel lonely, sad, disappointed and scared. Sometimes we feel all of that at the same time. But we also all feel loved, happy, encouraged and courageous.
The formula for comedy is Tragedy+Time. Live through the tragedy and I promise you will laugh again.
* Names have been changed.
You are not alone. Together we can be resilient. However, this website is not to be used in place of therapy or other forms of help. Non-judgmental help is available 24-7: Call Crisis Link at 1-800-273-TALK(8255). Text with a Crisis Text Line specialist, by texting “TALK” to 741-741. (You can also go to your nearest emergency room or call 911.)
You can also chat online with a specialist at CrisisChat.org (between 2pm and 2am) or ImAlive.org. Many other links to various types of assistance are also available on our RESOURCES page. Help is out there. Reach out, for yourself, or for someone else.
