Relay For Life

I participated in my first Relay For Life this weekend. 24 hours of walking and cheering and crying. I want to say I’ve never seen so much emotion in such a short time, but that would be a bald faced lie. 

My team leader left a lot of things undone, so I took it upon myself to fix things last minute. I made a schedule so that we would have at least one person on the track at all times, for one thing. I also ended up camping out there for 21 of the 24 hours to ensure that if people didn’t make their chalk times we would still have someone

Only one person on my team counted laps (I didn’t realize it was a thing), but I estimate that I walked/jogged for about 14 hours and over 65 miles. There were half hour breaks here and there where I rubbed my feet and took a short nap. It was a lot of fun. So much fun. There was no point during the 21 hours where there wasn’t someone I knew in attendance, so I always had someone to walk with. 

Around 0130 it started raining. I took the 0110-0140 shift for someone who didn’t show, and I was signed up for 0140-0310. It was miserable. Absolutely miserable. But I’m alive. I’m well. So I walked. I just wish I would have had an umbrella. After that I had 0340-0440, and someone else showed up to cover 0440-0710. It’s a lot of time, but I have faith that he stayed. I went under a tent (not an actual tent. More like a plastic roof), covered myself in a blanket, and fell asleep. When I woke up at 0600 it was cold. Just. So. Cold. I huddled under my blanket and pretended that I was inside. The music was playing from the speakers in my room instead of the speakers on the stage at the front. The cold wind was a fan (I don’t have a fan) instead of actual cold win. The sound of the rain was outside my window instead of a few inches away, outside of the covering.

When I actually got up about 5 minutes later I gave up. I don’t want pneumonia. I went home and slept for 10 hours straight. I feel badly about missing the end and I hope the other 2 people scheduled for that portion showed up cuz I was out. 

That made me think a bit.

(I’m going off topic now)

I’ve always loved hiking and wanted to do some more extreme hiking and camping. Think Appalachian Trail and such. But if I can’t handle a few hours of rain and cold, how could I handle months of being out there? I don’t know that I could. It made me feel like such a wimp.

What a wimpy wimp.

A family friend has cancer. And it’s way worse than we thought it was in the beginning (like it normally is). I feel selfish for wanting him to stay with us until I come home in June (59 days from now), but I want to see him again.

He’s been like an Uncle and I miss him.

I realized what most of the YA fiction I read has in common…

These 14, 15, 16 year old kids…they go fight. Normally for something they believe in. Sometimes it’s in an actual war, sometimes it’s to protect their families, but no matter what they’re usually fighting for their lives.

When I was that age I looked up to them. It was like something in me went “wow, look at what they go through for others. Look at what they do to protect people! And they’re my age. I could be that brave”.

Now that I’m 22, I think about a 16 year old going into battle and I think of my youngest sister. I look at her and know she would be fully capable, but that doesn’t make it easier to think about. She’s one of the more capable kids that I know..not everyone could mentally handle themselves if a situation arose. My 19 year old sister couldn’t. I have no clue if I could.

So I look at M and I put her in the place of Katniss, Tris, or Lan from the book I’m reading right now. It’s called “Brightly Burning” and it’s by Mercedes Lackey (go read it). I picked it up at a yard sale when I was 14 or so and haven’t read it since, but I remember the feeling of wonder that came along with that first read through. I wish I could muster that up now instead of the dread in the pit of my stomach. I know these kids are fictional, but that doesn’t change them in my mind. They’re still kids that have to grow up too fast. They’re still kids that don’t get to be kids.

And that’s not fair.

This post is all over the place

Right now I just want to talk to someone. Talk to a human being in person. I don’t even care much who it is, just that they are physically here. At the same time, I’ve been conditioned to see tears as a weakness (they’re a normal human function, but no one has died or is sick. It’s just been a crappy day) and to feel that my problems have no place in someone else’s world. They’re my problems, so I should take care of them. Change what I can, accept what I can’t, and move on from there.

Maybe it’s because I know how I feel when people complain excessively to me about their lives. I want to snap, “stop being a whiny brat and get over your shit. You’ve told me about how horrible your boyfriend is for the last three weeks. You can break up with him or shut up”. It’s fine if you need to talk to someone, but if all you’re doing is complaining about something that you can fix then why are you making someone listen to you go on and on about it?

And that’s how this is. Right now. My problem. I can fix this, but I don’t want to. Doing so would probably be painful, and it would be a lot of work. It could ruin a friendship or two, and I’m not ready for that. The fix is so very simple, but all I want to do is talk to another human being about it first. Get some perspective on this thing. Hear the opinion of someone who isn’t involved in all of the shit.

But the tiny nagging voice won’t go away…“no one wants to hear about it”. 

I know.

I know.