the girls

i just wrote my friend groshy an email. her name is sarah grosh, but i call her groshy because i love nicknames and we have two sarah's in our beloved group of girlfriends so really that just makes it easier to differentiate. there are ... let me count ... eight of us. eight of us who were best friends in high school and still remain the best of friends.

oh my goodness, i love these girls so much i could cry just thinking about all that we have been through together and how much we've grown up.

we all met in high school, but i don't think that any one of us likes to remember our high school self. (am i right girls?) i think it's safe to say that we were all unique-in-our-own-way wallflowers who stuck together and had fun together, but otherwise took high school way too seriously. none of us even dated anyone in high school, which is hilarious now that we've outgrown our awkwardness (maybe? ha!) and we're all head turners. put us all together and LOOK OUT. there is never a dull moment, which is of course what makes our time together so much fun.

it's like somehow God put us all together. i can't think of another explanation. you don't wind up with friends like these via luck. we have the perfect amount of similarities and differences to balance each other out. the differences are what make me say it had to be the Lord that drew us all to each other. the similarities are what make it so easy to stay connected - especially our shared faith in Jesus.

and with eight girls there is always someone who has advice for whatever you need to talk about. and there is someone to relate to every different boy scenario you get yourself into. God knows we've spent a LOT of time talking about boys, oh the joys. and the disasters, embarassments, mysteries, theories, heartbreaks, first kisses, and on and on - probably our number one topic of conversation?

there is always someone to go shopping with too. just do NOT go shopping with the sarahs - they share a name and a hatred for shopping. sura bura wright so much so that she has been known to get something called "shopping back" in which her back begins to ache to the point that the shopping trip must be ended immediately. becky is my personal favorite shopping buddy, although i'm probably not hers since the time i knocked down an ENTIRE shoe display (domino effect when i put back a boot i was looking at) and left her in the store while i walked out laughing.

there is always someone to fill in the gaps of our memories together. groshy has an incredible memory and i love it. i laugh until i cry almost every time i hang out with my girls. i love when it gets so bad that groshy starts telling me to "breathe, chels!" it can be anything from an absurd story that alecia or meagan is telling, or something crazy jeannette does when we go out, or remembering nights brianna and i slept with tennis racquets for weapons. it can be looking at becky or groshy and knowing we're thinking the same thing and losing it, or it can be looking at sura bura and both losing it for a ton of reasons or no reasons at all.

meagan gets married this june and i don't even know how i could choose a story to tell at her reception. partially because there are so many inside jokes and memories that would really only be funny to those of us who were there, and also because there is such a long list of memories that once i'd start i probably wouldn't be able to stop. i copped out of telling stories at alecia's wedding last summer for the same reasons.

i love that when alecia, becky, brianna, groshy, jeannette, meagan, sarah and i say "the girls" we all mean each other. i love you girls so much!

and groshy, i vented to you in my email as usual - you've always been a great great listener with a huge sensitive heart, thank you - but afterward i realized what a bum i sounded like. you're in haiti serving people. you're living in a totally different world. you're completely roughing it. you're doing it all for free.

i remember when i lived in nepal and felt so disconnected from america, with almost no desire to go back and have any part in "the rat race." so disgusted by the things people considered problems, so annoyed by the way people at home were squandering their time on things i considered to be of little to no value. after my time in YWAM i naively thought i'd never get caught up in materialism or selfishness again, but here i am taking this easy american life for granted, creating problems out of a life of extreme blessing when i have it so good.

groshy, you are so brave and i am so proud of you. thanks for reminding me of what really matters, even just through your presence in such a dark place. i am praying for you today and missing you always!

aw, this is a classic from the outer banks after graduation.

the high school version ...

the last summer version: order mixed up but still a groshy-chelcats sandwich.

sadly we didn't get a picture together at alecia's wedding - brianna was in haiti and jeannette was at the wedding but probably off with her boy when we finally snagged the bride for a picture. fingers crossed we'll get a great shot of the eight of us together at megs this summer.

"friendship isn't a big thing - it's a million little things." [unknown]
"the most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart." [elisabeth foley]

the good, the bad, and the chelsea

the good ...
well there is a whole lot that i could say for "the good." namely that God is good, in every way, all the time, and there is nothing better to focus on than Him.

in more specific news (ha!) i love writing for the snapper. i love majoring in journalism, and even though i come up with new "life plans" on a regular basis (things like becoming a philosophy professor or a personal trainer, or there's always being a dog walker at the beach. or an actress.) and i have no idea which plan(s) will actually pan out, at least i am having fun with my major. and i can totally see myself pursuing journalism as a career.

this week i had a blast writing about the new juice bar at school (mostly because they gave me a free peanut butter cup smoothie, yum-o.) and interviewing firefighters and ROTC members. hilarious. especially because i wear my excitement on my face like a kid in a candy shop. "whoa this is so cool! i've never been in this building before! it's awesome!" i said when i was getting a tour of the dinky little ROTC building. i was genuinely stoked though, i guess because i love new places and experiences and the idea of getting insider information. the guy laughed and said, "wow you must be easily excitable ..."

what might've topped that outburst of excitement was when i came across as a complete bimbo at the end of the interview with the firefighters. they tried to convince me to volunteer. i told them i'm afraid of fire but they didn't seem to think that'd be a problem. i should have mentioned that i do not even run my finger through candle flames, i am THAT afraid of fire.

when i started to thank them as i was leaving, i couldn't stop myself from word vomiting about how exciting this was and how the only thing i could compare this experience to was the movie ladder 49. they laughed and said, "oh yeah and that's real life."
"really?"
"no. that was a joke, it's the exact opposite."
"oh. well like, which parts aren't like real life?"
and then they stared at me and i realized i sounded like an idiot who thinks that movies are the spitting image of reality. oops.

the bad ...
this morning while i was studying i overheard a woman say, "i think it's just a reality that most people will have two marriages now. one for having kids and another when that doesn't work out." record screeeech. excuse me?!

not that it would have been more acceptable, but i think i would have been less surprised had this comment come from someone my age or younger. but this lady definitely seemed "old enough to know better." what an awful mentality. i could rant about this for hours, but i'll try not to get too carried away other than to say this scares me. devastates me really. my dad always says, "divorce is worse than death" and i guess no one will ever know if that's true because you can't experience both in one marriage, but it sure seems like an accurate enough assumption.

there is something terribly wrong with a world where marriage is just a flippant choice made without true commitment. her comment reminded me of an engagement ring advertisement that i HATE because of the tagline that reads: "because you only get married for the first time once." it's like everyone is giving up before they even start trying.

please don't give up! God designed everything like He did for a reason and it will to be worth it. i'm not harping on people who get divorced, i'm not judging you - my heart breaks for you if you ever had to or have to go through this ... but at the same time divorce has become too much of an option. instead of a last resort it seems like a first resort, and maybe even an expected resort? again, don't give up. we can't dwell on the culture of this earth to define reality ... we need to determine our minds and hearts to dwell instead on the culture of heaven that is perfect in every way. easier said than done, but again: it will be worth it. life doesn't have to be what people tell us it will be. it can be better than the statistics, better than the past. don't accept divorce as an inevitable reality.

and the chelsea ...
one time the airport security guard checking my ID started complimenting my smile, big time. i suppose a good response would have been to just smile, say "thank you!" and move on. but instead i just said, "i had braces." and he laughed and THEN i moved on. finally. so smooth.

almost as smooth as this week when i was buying crest whitestrips and the cashier asked me if they work. again, i suppose a normal response would have been just to say "yes." but not me. i shrugged and said i haven't used them in awhile then showed him my teeth. and not by smiling like a normal person. i showed my teeth like you'd show a dentist. or like you smile when someone tells you to smile but you do not want to smile so you flash a big fake cheesy grin. and he got a really confused look on his face as our conversation ended and i left.

why did i do that? i don't know. i had braces.

Beautiful, by MercyMe

"The days will come when you don't have the strength
When all you hear is you're not worth anything
Wondering if you ever could be loved
And if they truly saw your heart they'd see too much

You're beautiful
You are made so much more than all of this
You're beautiful
You are treasured, You are sacred, You are His
You're beautiful

I'm praying that you have the heart to find
Cause you are more than what is hurting you tonight
For all the lies you've held inside so long
And they are nothing in the shadow of the cross

Before you ever took a breath
Long before the world began
Of all the wonders He possessed
There was one more precious
Of all the earth and skies above
You're the one He madly loves
Enough to die

You're beautiful
In His eyes

You're beautiful
You were meant for so much more than all of this
You're beautiful
You are treasured, You are sacred, You are His
You're beautiful."

the value of life

tonight i'm thinking about the value of life. my life, which i definitely take for granted ... your life, which i hope you know is precious to me (or to the people in your life if we've never met, but even then - you're here, i care about you. my heart is just that big, or so i like to hope) ... and the lives of every person there is ...

because even though i am not always fond of the masses, i really am fond of each and every one that make up the masses. while i yell in traffic and complain in crowds at the mall, i still know that every person has a purpose and their worth is intrinsic.

from conception to death we are viewed as a commodity in american culture. we see each other as cogs in a money making machine whether we realize it or not. wherever we work, we're replaceable. money has become so "holy" we'll do anything for it. society strongly discourages large families and children are often viewed as a financial burden, only to be had when the time is right. and time is money. right? wrong! wrong on so many levels - time is not money! certainly time is like money in that it can be lost or well-spent, but once it has been used it cannot be regained. time is way more precious than money, but a human life is more valuable than anything else. your life is infinitely more precious and valuable than american culture would indicate.

you are not here to make money, whether you work forever to eke out a meager existence or become incredibly wealthy. the Lord can certainly use money to further His purposes, but when money becomes our primary purpose we are in dangerous territory. your identity is in no way dependent upon how much money you do or do not have. you are worth more than your salary. you are worth more than all of the money in the world.

and what's amazing is that every single person on this earth, shares that same worth. the fact that everyone else has the same worth doesn't lower your worth - because God's "economy" is not our economy. i don't think God really even has an economy, He's SO ABOVE economy, hallelujah.

a few things sent my mind down this road tonight, but i guess death and its realness was the main instigator. ever since i could read the newspaper as a kid, i've been skimming the obituaries and sometimes a person will stick out. a complete stranger, and my heart hurts for their family. when the loved ones of friends die, my heart breaks - even if i've never met the person. suddenly when a person dies i feel this connection to them. maybe i sound a little hokey or full-on crazy. who knows, maybe someday i will be "crazy aunt chelsea" in a bright purple hat and a multicolored muumuu, but i'm serious ... when someone dies i can't help but be reminded that we're all in this together. no one escapes death.

a mom at our church, abby drennan, died suddenly two weeks ago and even though i've never talked to her, i started tearing up when her husband and three little girls came into church without her. (i could've bawled, i don't know why i stop myself?) her husband rob is a rock and his words to the whole church encouraged me greatly. from everything i've heard about abby she was an amazing person. she was 25.

25 is the same age as the woman my mom recently told me about, who also has three children and has had 17 abortions. 17? i cannot imagine. do you just stop feeling? it seems like not only did something go numb inside of her, but EVERYTHING must have went numb inside of her. my heart breaks for her because ultimately she has no idea WHO SHE IS. she doesn't know she was created for so much more than what she's living in, that she was created with a purpose and for good things. she does not know her worth. and because of that, she's snuffed out 17 innocent lives. most of us don't even have 17 people in our immediate family. imagine your whole family ... gone. or imagine your 17 closest friends ... gone.

that's the realness of abortion. lives are being taken every single day while we so often take our own for granted. it's easy to forget about abortion, but it's just as real and horrific as the awful tragedy of the clouse family who lost seven of their eight young children to a fire at their home in perry county. "Christina, 11, Isabelle, 9, Brady, 7, Hannah, 6, Heidi, 4, Miranda, 1, and Samantha, 9 months, are buried side by side(Patriot-News)." i've been thinking about that a lot this week too and once again, i cannot imagine the excruciating pain their parents must be in. so sad.

i appreciate what their pastor, Adam Williams said regarding the outpouring of money from the community. "People are searching for ways to take away their pain. But there’s nothing that can be done outside of the healing of the Lord. But, this is appreciated, what the community has done. And it will meet a need, but it won’t meet the need of replacing these children.”

true for their family, and true for all of the innocent lives taken by abortion.

life is precious, and my heart is heavy tonight for people who have lost those dear to them. for the drennan family at my church. for the clouse family in perry county. for so many others. i wish i could speak to every individual who has lost someone they loved and say: that person is not forgotten. and neither are you. you are loved and you are worth more than you know.

thoughts, literally

tonight someone next to me started sputtering about how they don't have time to think about God. that was the mildest of statements in their rant against "religious people," along with the declaration of, "i don't have time for religion." i asked why and let the absurdities continue to fly around me because quite frankly i was too tired to try to answer. one of those things where i didn't even know where to begin so i let it go.

if you don't have time to think about God then what are you doing with your time? i immediately judged and thought about how everyone who doesn't know God is wasting their time with thoughts that will not amount to anything in the end. and as usual the judgment came back to me like a jagged boomerang as i realized that i am just as guilty, if not guiltier. after all, i claim to know God and i have a LOT of wasted thoughts. everything from worries and judgments to fears and all sorts of zoning out on the internet. (while i don't veg in front of the tv, i certainly veg in front of facebook. yuck.)

so what are my best thoughts? the thoughts i'd consider worth my time? i'd have to say the thankful ones. the ones where i end up dwelling on the constant stream of God's goodness and faithfulness in my life. those moments i look around and squeal or sigh because i am suddenly aware of how blessed i am, how great my life is and how much i have to be thankful for. those thoughts are way better than the ones where i compare myself to others, give into fear or bury myself in pointless worries.

i actually read this verse this morning from Proverbs 1:23 - "Repent at my rebuke! Then I will pour out my thoughts to you, I will make known to you my teachings." i wrote a bit about it and prayed that God would reveal His thoughts to me. how awesome that the God of all creation is willing to pour his thoughts out to us?! not just reveal one or two, but pour them out, wow. and there's a 23 like my age, maybe this is a special year of God pouring out His thoughts to me? i really want the Holy Spirit to take control of my thoughts. i feel like out of that, everything else will come into alignment. i don't want to even stay at a place of taking every thought captive one by one. i want to live in such close communion with the Lord that He sparks every thought inside of me. a place of purity where my mind is ruled by Him and every thought is a reaction to who God is. or something like that.

that God led me to that verse this morning is so funny to me now at the end of my day. it's like He knew what i would hear all day and He was preparing me for it. (way to be a champ and finally realize the Lord knows you and every step ahead of you and loves you enough to equip you for it all ... sheesh chels.) He was filling my spirit with His thoughts at the start of the day so i would constantly come back to them. He gave me ample warning to dwell on His thoughts so i could be ready to answer for Him when He needed me to. God is so faithful like that. i hate that i'm so slow in returning the favor to Him.

"While Jeremiah was still confined in the courtyard of the guard, the word of the LORD came to him a second time: “This is what the LORD says, he who made the earth, the LORD who formed it and established it—the LORD is his name: ‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’" [Jeremiah 33:1-3] ... i've always loved this verse, because i so wanna know the great and unsearchable things! Jesus consume my thoughts!

about today

positive things about today ...
1. an email from a stranger with really great advice.
2. i told my mom that i needed a hug and she put down everything she was doing and hugged me. the physical act of her setting things down just to hug me seemed so symbolic in that moment. i told her that i love her and i love knowing that she would do anything for me. she said of course she would, and then she laughed and said "so what do you want?" i laughed and said, "nothing mom! it's the principle! and just knowing."
3. vanilla chai, mmm.
4. "that guy looks like he'd be frugal," someone said to me. i laughed because i had no idea why he'd say that about the person and then he said, "yeah, i don't actually know what that word means, i just thought it sounded right." fair enough.
5. when i finally got home around 1am from a long day at school, i remembered that i am God's favorite. He loves me. sigh.
6. my professor saying "exactly!" to my answer in philosophy. yesss!
7. snapper staff = soo fun.
8. i love my college.
9. minnesota ashley. (and the fact that i have so many ashley friends that i have to specify by location is fantastic too.)
10. finding a shirt i haven't worn in forever and remembering how much i love it.
11. jamming out in my car.
12. when i saw my bank statement on the counter i was scared to open it, but when i did i was incredibly proud of myself instead. i love that feeling.

not-so-positive things about today:
1. i could've taken a risk, but instead i walked away with that sinking feeling of regret.
2. my nail chewing habit seems to be at its worst.
3. i rarely get to see so many of the people that i love anymore, and i really really miss them.
4. Japanese pop music.
5. shakespeare.
6. sitting in on a borough council meeting for a school project, zzz.
7. confusion.

as seen in the snapper

this semester i finally gave in and became an editor for the snapper - my college's student newspaper. though very time consuming, i love it - especially the freedom to write about almost anything that i want.

as far as i can tell, very few people read the snapper, which is sad. this became even clearer to me when the one and only writer for my section emailed me and said, "so where can i get a copy of the snapper?" they are only in places where you can see them - huge stacks inside every building on campus - but i guess my peers don't look up from their phones long enough to notice those stacks, let alone to actually read a newspaper.

you'll have to excuse me for being such a young senior citizen. i still love print publications. there's just something about spreading out the sunday newspaper and reading each section, or sitting in a bookstore flipping through magazines.

i love the internet too of course, and while i appreciate texting, i hate walking around campus seeing everyone glued to their phones. people almost run into me nearly every day on the sidewalk, except i refuse to accommodate their addiction (haha call me what you want) and say "hey!" and they blush or fumble for words and trip. real human interaction, sans computer screen and sans alcohol, is strange i suppose? but i still enjoy it. i hate being in class and seeing everyone playing on their iphones. how disrespectful - why bother even going to class?

enough of my ranting though, i apologize. what i actually wanted to share was one of my articles from this week's snapper. which won't be out till thursday so you're getting an oh-so-privileged sneak peek, ha.

this week's features spread theme was stigma, so i wrote about my dad. i'm feeling pretty brave for printing such a personal article, but my hope is to break off stigma and offer encouragement to even just one person.

*****

"Bipolar Disorder Through a Daughter's Eyes."
By Chelsea Shank
One of the hardest parts of growing up with a dad who is bipolar is something that most people would probably never guess.

Bipolar disorder comes in all different forms and can be difficult to diagnose. Classic bipolar consists of alternating episodes of severe depression and full-blown mania. Manic episodes include psychotic and grandiose thinking with elated moods, superhuman energy and reckless judgment.

My dad ricocheted from extreme lows to extreme highs. Sometimes there were in-betweens, but those are harder for me to remember. There were waves of mania that kept him up all through the night wandering around town, socializing like it was a job and spending money as if he had a job that afforded him to buy convertibles and purebred puppies every month. (Credit card companies must love people with mental illnesses.) Then there were periods of isolation as debilitating depression set in.

As I grew up learning about this mental illness, I learned even more about the stigma attached to it. The silence surrounding my dad’s illness created a stigma in my mind, but maybe that’s why every stigma exists. Silence perpetuates shame, and only when we finally speak out do we find freedom. We finally realize that we’re not alone and there is always hope.

In every culture there is some level of stigma attached to mental illnesses and seeking the necessary help. Even in modern American culture where mental illnesses are so prevalent, there is still an inclination to hide. Mental disorders are often seen as a sign of weakness, but a person with a mental illness is not weak. When they seek treatment they display more courage than most of us ever will.

So what has been the hardest part of life with my dad?

Was it hiding under the covers while my dad screamed in fits of manic rage in the hallway? Visiting him in one psychiatric ward after another? Watching my dad make a fool of himself during manic episodes or watching him crumble in dark episodes of depression?

Tears have been shed over all of these things, but it’s the shame of mental illness that really kills me. For me it culminated in one dreaded question. “So what do your parents do Chelsea?” I’d talk about my mom, then stop and hope my silence would cut off further inquiry - but I rarely got that lucky. Although my dad once held a steady job as a construction worker, for whatever reason he quit working when I was eight and never got another.

I was so ashamed of telling anyone that my dad didn’t work. He said to tell people he was self-employed, and I guess technically he was for several years as he farmed and did odd jobs. This didn’t satisfy me, especially not once those stints tapered off. All I wanted was a normal dad who worked at a normal job.

A lot of times I’d answer that he was a construction worker. A half-truth. But a half-truth is a half-lie and I don’t consider that honest. Sometimes the half-lies turned into full-blown lies when people would ask even more questions about his career. My desire for honesty collided with all of my pride and shame to create a dilemma that still throws me.

How do you sum up 23 years of living with a dad and his mental illness that has caused you pain unlike anything else? How do you explain a mental illness to people who have no idea? How can you compartmentalize one of your most intimate struggles into a pat answer that fits into small talk with practical strangers?

One thing I do know, is that I love and adore my dad. Just like he experiences highs and lows, my feelings for him are marked by extremes. Extreme hurt, yes, but the hurt is overshadowed by an extreme love for my father. I love my dad and all of the memories we’ve made. I love dreaming of making more. Of the day he’ll walk me down the aisle at my wedding, and the day he’ll hold my kiddos and be their hilarious grandpa, but most of all I dream of the day that he will be healed of bipolar disorder and live free from the grip of a mental illness.