Being 15 by Haley Hudgins

you’re in high school now. you don’t know who you are, but it’s going to be okay. I promise.

by Haley Hudgins

you’re in high school now. you don’t know who you are, but it’s going to be okay. I promise.

by Haley Hudgins

faith pg.56

family

looks pg.44

pg.26

love pg.10

friends pg.34

Being 15 is awkward, weird, stressful, emotional, and frustrating. I’ve heard it. You’ve heard it. In fact, I bet we’re all familiar with this cheesy cliché that pops up over dinner conversations and fireside chats with our older siblings or parents. You’ve probably rolled your eyes upon hearing it, offered a sarcastic rebuttal, or completely ignored it. As a current junior in college, I think I can safely say that change does happen in high school. I can’t name one person I know who has maintained the same personality, tastes, or hobbies they once had when they first walked through those daunting double doors of high school. Instead of pretending like you will not be marked by your high school years, open your arms to embrace the process. Just remember that in your pursuit of finding yourself (whoever that is), you should not let anyone else interfere. I’m guilty of doing the exact opposite. For a long time I let my friends influence me by wearing the clothes they did and listening to the same awful music. Going into high school, I was someone who was anxious and looking for a way to “fit in.” (Cue image of freshmen me dressed in some sort of sub par getup, running my fingers through a nest of hair.) Although I wasn’t dying for popularity or social status, I tried my hand at making myself interesting to people -- and that usually meant doing things that I didn’t necessarily like. I ignored my own interests for a while and instead, pretended I was a carbon copy of my friends. Long story short, that didn’t work.

Haley This book is a collection of mistakes in which 15 year olds have tried to find themselves but they learned some life lessons instead. Everyone’s story is different but they all deal with the relationships we have with our friends, love interests, parents, God, and the relationship we have with ourselves. This book is a guide and a way for you to learn from other people’s mistakes, so you don’t have to go through them yourself.

I quickly became aware that I wasn’t focused enough on being me, and I was bothered by it. Since then, I stopped worrying about what others are doing. You can too.

out of teens believe that they are not good enough or donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t measure up in some way, including their looks, performance in school and relationships with friends and family.

Katie Sophomore year of high school I started dating a 19 year old. I was 15, so my parents were not happy, but we really liked each other… so we decided to start sneaking out to see each other. He would drive over & park at the top of our long, steep driveway, and I would meet him there. We’d sit in his car and just talk and listen to music. One night we were going to meet up, but when I got to the top of the hill I didn’t see him, but saw my dad standing there. I was terrified! Dad just looked at me & said, “turn around.” We walked back down the hill, my heart pounding, and I figured I was dead. Mom was waiting at the house, and she didn’t yell at me like I was expecting. Instead she hugged me, told me she loved me, told me not to do it again. I was seriously in shock that I wasn’t grounded and/or dead.

That same year, I started going to YoungLife, where I met my leader and she introduced me to a whole new version of the Jesus I thought I had always known. After that I completely changed my life, many of my friends, and started to really figure out what it meant to be a Christian with a personal relationship with the Lord.

Allison When I was 15 years old, I had fallen in love with my next-door neighbor. It had actually been growing for quiet sometime now, since the first grade. Dane was significantly older than me, about 6 years. He played soccer, would mow his lawn shirtless, and had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. My friends always wanted to come spend the night at my house so we could conveniently borrow an egg from the cutie next door to make brownies with. It was all fun and games until Dane got a girlfriend. My little 15-year-old heart was shattered. I knew that he would never like me, but to see that he liked someone else was just wrong. However, the heartache did not last very long. I was fixing to turn 16 and preparing for high school in a couple months. That is when I realized how dumb it was to idolize or fantasize over an older boy that would always view me as a “little sister.” And then I began to nice boys my own age! Little did I know, the real trouble was just about to begin.

Ben When I was 15, the dominant social gathering was the dance hosted by the school every Friday. Looking back we should have called them “sits” because that’s what people did the majority of the time. However, people did get up for the slow songs. I had a girlfriend in 8th grade named Taylor. I didn’t necessarily like her that much, but she expressed interest in me, which was a step up from what I was used to. This particular dance was coming to an end. We were on the last slow song. I didn’t really want to but the pressure was unbearable. Her friends were behind her making faces at me and egging me on. And so I did “it”. But all I really did was press my face against hers with our lips touching first for .5 seconds. So if you want anything a little more special than .5 seconds, don’t feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do.

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“if I were a 15 year old again I would let myself know I’m worth so much more than what a boy can ever define of me through his attention.” Sarah So I started to have my first real boyfriend when I was a sophomore in high school. I had had a crush on him for a long time and had even written about if he knew I even existed in my journal (really embarrassing) we played on the same sports team and he was the star of the guys team. He went to a different school, which made him mysterious. He was shy and had the whole strong bruiting man vibes about him... we started dating and dated for a pretty long while. There was a definite physical attraction between the two of us, but looking back, the only thing we pretty much had in common was the group of friends we had and our love of that sport we both played. We dated for about 11 months and then I broke up with him because I kind of had feelings for someone else and also kind of realized we didn’t have much in common. We still had feelings for one another after we broke up, looking back now I think it was because he was the first person I had ever done anything physical with at all. We dated for like seven months after that and then he started to lie about where he was at and whom he was hanging out with. He had always had a pretty trusting relationship but there was one girl that was a friend of his family that always had a thing

for him. He always told me that he never even liked her and didn’t even find her attractive. Things with our relationship and communication between us only got worse and one day he decided to break up with me. I was in complete shock and wasn’t ready for it at all. He didn’t want to explain in depth why he didn’t want to date, he just made our communication very limited, but one thing I do remember him saying that has been the harshest thing that has ever been said to me... he told me he only loved me for my body. Basically he was only staying with me to do physical things with me. Three days after we broke up I saw he was “in a relationship” on Facebook with the new girl, the family friend. I was completely heartbroken. I called and called him when I saw it on his Facebook that morning but he wouldn’t answer. I even called his mother to see if he was there but she wasn’t with him.... so my best friend drove me to his house and I knocked on his door and started demanding answers and pushing him. It was the lowest emotionally I feel like I had ever let myself get. I had no boundaries for him. When I was there I tried to win him back and for months after I kept thinking he was going to wake up one day and want me back. It took me over a year to fully get over it and when I did I realized that him breaking up with me was the best thing he could’ve done. Three years later after not talking to him recently he texts me one night... telling me that he wants to meet in person to apologize for what he had done back then. I kept repeating that it was absolutely not necessary and I had closure on what had happened but he insisted he needed to apologize for himself. I agreed to meet up with him one day on campus and talk so he could apologize.

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I had my first kiss when I was 15. It was remarkably unromantic, but it got my heart racing and head reeling all the same. My boyfriend at the time still couldn’t drive, and I suppose we had been to see a movie or something that night. His mom drove; isn’t that sweet? As she was dropping me off at my house, the boy was walking me in, and we were going through my garage. It just so happened that we recently moved, and my garage was piled with all sorts of things that didn’t belong there. We got to the door, and he gave me a hug like always. But as I was turning to go inside, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back towards him, and it happened. I knew that he had kissed girls before, and I felt extremely self-conscious about my lips and being a terrible kisser the whole time. Oh, and did I mention that this first kiss took place behind a random refrigerator that was currently in the garage? That way his mom couldn’t see it. Looking back on it, that kiss made me melt, but I would never advise anyone to have their first kiss in a garage. It’s not exactly idyllic, but I suppose most first kisses are never idyllic.

The top wish among all teens is for their parents to communicate better with them. This includes frequent and more open conversations.â&#x20AC;¨ 29

Maddie I feel like I have lived the basic, middle class life so far. I grew up with a mom, a dad and a corgi. My childhood was spent moving from Tennessee to New Jersey, Tennessee, Florida, and then Tennessee again. My dad bounced from job to job which required my family to move a lot. Knoxville, Tennessee was our home and we always found ourselves coming back here. I did not have a say where my family move until my parents got divorced. That was the most difficult time in my life. We lived in Florida at the time and I was a freshman in high school. My dad had an affair with a woman at his work and he chose to leave our comfortable family for a life with her. I have chosen to forget most of that day, but I remember this part with complete clarity. I sat in the living room with my dad, on our old, plaid couch, as he told me how he had fallen in love with another woman. I played with the dog hair on the cushions, so I would not have to look at him. At that moment, my dad was a stranger to me. He told me that he tried to be happy with my mom, but he could not forget about this new woman. I do not remember what I said or where he went after that conversation, but I went to my parents bedroom to find my mom. We did not have to say anything to each other. We both felt the pain of a breaking family. I sat on the floor with her and wept until we were both exhausted.

Soon after, my mom and I decided together to move back to Knoxville, because it was where our family lived. My dad stayed in Florida with Anna, the new addition to his family. My mom went back to school and started a new job, but was still very broken. My dad and Anna remarried and had a baby, Zoey. It took a while, but I accepted Anna into my family and I love my new half sister with all of my heart. I feel like this is a common scenario that happens to a lot of families, but that kind of family trauma shapes us all differently.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;There were many times when our roles reversed and I had to comfort my mom.â&#x20AC;?

I had to grow up quickly and that has shaped who I am today.

Leanna

The hardest part of them getting divorced was feeling like I no longer had parents.

When I was 15, my parents got divorced. It was a devastating time for me, considering I had just started high school. I was so bitter on the inside but I didn’t want anyone to know how badly I was hurting, so I acted as though I was alright to my peers. My mother was the one who moved out of our home, so I mainly stayed with my father. I didn’t like the thought of going to a strange house to sleep because when I was at the house both of my parents lived in, it didn’t feel like they were really getting divorced. Luckily, as a 15 year old my parents never made me go back and forth between them. I never had set days. They let me choose when I wanted to stay with one of them. The hardest part of them getting divorced was feeling like I no longer had “parents.” It felt like I had one parent on separate days. I cried thinking about growing up without my parents under the same roof, not having

them sit together at my high school graduation, or even my wedding day. For a long time I questioned “why me?”. I truly believe God hates divorce, but he can turn curses into blessings. I am now 21. I lived through the terrible times that no child wants to go through. I’ve learned from my parent’s failed marriage, to know how to have one that will last. God has to be the center of your life to make anything work. I truly think that their divorce began to lead me to Christ. When I felt like I had no one, he was there for me! My dad is now remarried and I have a beautiful little sister and a stepbrother whom neither I would have had, if it weren’t for my parents getting a divorce. My mom never thought she would make it on her own, but she did. I grew as a person through that trial in my life, it made me stronger and it molded me into who I am today. It also molded my parents to be who they are today. I am truly thankful for blessings in disguise. Even though at the time I was not.

Haley When I was 15, my main goal was to be popular which in all plot lines never works out. I found myself in a group of friends that resembled the clique of “Mean Girls” but a younger more annoying version. There was about six of us depending on the day. We were the group of friends that singled someone out when we disagreed on something which turned into a weekly thing. I remember one time it was me on the other end of the backlash and let me tell you something GIRLS ARE MEAN. They wouldn’t talk to me or let me sit with them at lunch. l sit with the boys, which provoked them to call be a whore, which was a little ridiculous considering I had never even kissed a boy yet. They seriously hated me. This created a serious problem within me dealing with my self-esteem and confidence. I was always to trying to fit in somewhere that I didn’t feel like I belonged. I was in band, first chair flute if I was bragging and I was on the dance team, which was weird since I don’t have an athletic bone in my body. I was trying to fill my heart with relationships whether with boyfriends, best friendships, or school clubs. I needed someone to signify that I was important and I wish I would have put my worth in the Lord and not those mean friends.

If I were to go back and tell my 15 year old self some advice, it would be you can always change friends. They don’t have to define you, you do.

of high school friends

remain friends after high

school is over. 39

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Aimee I went to an “artsy” high school on the upper west side of Manhattan. I would have to say at age 15, my sophomore year of high school, was my best year out of the four. Although, my friends were assholes. No, seriously, they were a bunch of conceded fucks who really only cared about getting drunk, and going to parties they weren’t invited to. I don’t really know why I was friends with them. It was either that, or be a loser who gets stoned on roof tops on a Friday night, instead of going to the latest party everyone was going to be talking about on Monday morning. I guess you could say my friends were popular, and I was just lucky to be there. There was Milana, the “gang leader” who most people would relate to that popular blonde bitch you see movies that no one likes, but

everyone pretends to like because she is… the leader. There was Betty, the tall skinny bitch, who was obsessed with her ignorant rich boyfriend who would probably never work a day in his life. There was Erin, the dumb one, who would probably walk into a wall if she was staring right at it. There was Elise, the fake hippie chick, who was also obsessed with her grungy boyfriend who thought the world was out to get him. There was Sara, the slut, who fucked anything that moved. And then there was me, who like I said was just lucky to be accepted into the clique. Those motherfuckers made my life a living hell. I constantly felt bad about myself all the time, because they always made me feel like I wasn’t worth anything. I exercised seven days a week to try to stay skinnier than all the rest of them (and it worked). Except for Betty, who was just a natural twig. I always felt like I fit in with them, but

there was something that was off. I realize now that was because I was the only one that would grow as a person after high school. All of them are still the same to this day. They made me hate who I was. I thought I was ugly, because they always told me I wasn’t pretty enough. Every morning I caked on make-up, dressed in clothes I really didn’t want to wear, and smoked weed all day long to try and forget the hell hole they shoved me into. Sometimes I would hate being around them at school so much that I would leave to walk around the streets of New York City, drinking vodka till I was drunk enough to fall asleep on the subway on my way home. They always told me I was a “weird-o” if I wanted any time away from them. They used me for my house, because my parents were always away on the weekends. I would be forced to invite them over to get drunk in my backyard, and have my neighbors yell at me for all the noise we made. Sometimes they would invite a lot of people over, and my small gatherings turned into house parties. I realize now that I was so unhappy because I didn’t know who I was. They dictated my appearance, what I did, and who I hung out with. I think that’s why now, it is so important for me to express myself. When I got to college it took me a year to feel like it was okay to just be me. It’s pretty fucking awesome.

Rebecca Blog post via 2009: I’ve gotten so angry that it’s made me cry. I hate how angry I get, just like my dad. I hate how when we argue we’re both wrong and we both have double standards but no one ever wins. EVER. My twin sister was best friend but lately I can hardly talk to her. I found the song I’m going to play at my wedding. Please, go listen to William Fitzsimmons, now. I love how seeing someone is the easiest. Physically seeing…. I saw a beautiful boy at the library. AT THE LIBRARY I know. The white house library. And I was happy. Just seeing just imaging the kind of person I’d want him to be …that made me happy. Hah. Wow. I’m really pathetic. Let me remind myself. I’m silly. Silly. Silly.

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Over percent of girls and boys ages 15 to 17 avoid normal daily activities, such as attending school, when they feel bad about their looks.â&#x20AC;¨

Tory I feel like everyone has a “finding themselves” stage, especially fashion-wise. Mine happened when I was in my early teens. A part of me had always wanted to look emo. Not actually to -be- emo, just to dress like it. You know: skinny jeans, colored hair, converse, band t-shirts, and probably lots of piercings. When I was probably 13-14 years old, I tried to dress this way--unfortunately, I was not an emo kid, I was a young, naive homeschooler who had no idea what she looked like. Instead of actually looking “emo,” I kind of just gave myself bad mom hair and wore guy pants. It wasn’t pretty. My mother, God bless her, let me do almost anything to my appearance. “As long as you love Jesus on this inside, it doesn’t matter” she’d tell me. She let me go through some really, REALLY awkward stages. I started by chopping my thick, single-length homeschooler haircut into something with long bangs in the front and short spikiness in the back. Once I got sick of that, I cut it all off--my entire head of hair was two inches long. It did not look good on me (I actually got mistaken for a soccer mom on multiple occasions).

After that haircut, I let it grow out and haven’t looked back. Thankfully, I now understand what does and doesn’t make me look like a 40-year-old. And, as much as I hate to say it, I’m thankful that my mom let me experiment with my appearance when I was younger. I got my “finding myself” haircut stage out of the way, and learned about myself in the process. Who knows, if that had gotten repressed it might have been even worse later on.

Nicky 15 year-old Nicole Miller would have said that the most important clothing staple is a nice pair of Kmart stretch Bermuda shorts. She may have also said that those pants become a little less appealing when, on the last day of 6th grade, those Bermuda shorts went surfing on the crimson wave. For every single person, at the beginning of 7th grade I was in the gym, and the boy I liked called me from the seat I was presently sitting. Once I walked over he asked. “So, remember last year when you got your period on your Bermuda shorts?” Yeah, yeah Geoff, I remember. I have had this friend named Sara who I have known since I was very young. We became best friends in our preteens and when I was 15 I had to move from Florida to Tennessee. When I was moving I explained to her that I was one hundred percent positive we were not going to stay best friends. Sara disagreed. I am very glad she has proved me wrong all these years. Around the age of 15 I had to live with my sister, who is much older than me, for a short period of time. During that time I started making up stories as to where my parents had gone, what was happening to them. I don’t really know why I did it, but these days I try not to lie as much. When I was 15 I wish I went to church as much as I do now. Then maybe I could have prayed to God that I wouldn’t get my period on the last day of 6th grade.

Brayan For me, there was that awkward moment in high school where I started comparing myself to others. It was weird because I would compare my clothes, my grades, how popular I was, and other things like that. However I thinking back on it, one of the things that were most detrimental to my self-esteem was comparing my race. It was almost as if I was ashamed of being Mexican. I attributed other people’s popularity, wealth, and how cool they were with their race. I didn’t want to let anyone know where I was from or let them know that I spoke Spanish. As if it was a bad thing to Mexican and not White. I dealt with that complex until about high school. After I thought about the value of being bilingual. I knew something that someone else didn’t. I also had a very different culture than most kids at school but at the same time, I saw that I wasn’t as different as my peers. By being in the United States for so long I had assimilated myself enough.

Samuel It was freshman year, and I was a newbie on my schools climbing team. Climbing requires a lot of strength, upper body strength, balance, determination,and courage, all of which I didn’t have. Something I still don’t today haha. It also helps to be tall, which I wasn’t, though that DID change. I was probably 4’6, though I felt pretty much 3’0 or 2 feet tall. The climbing competitions are divided into two sections: top roping, and bouldering. There are 3 top rope routes to be completed, and you have 1 attempt for each, and 2 boulder problems for which you have 2 attempts. 5 “routes” total per competition. There were 5 competitions per year. Each one got progressively harder as the year went on, so the beginning comps were easy and the fifth was really hard. Each problem also was meant to be harder then the previous. The “men’s first route” was supposed to be easier than the “men’s second route” and the “men’s third route” as they were called. There were also women’s routes for the girls’ team. It was the second competition, first route. An easy route for sure, everyone before me “walked” up it with ease I, however, found it very struggling. There was a move (near the beginning even!) that was really reachy, and I in my 4’0 shrimp-like body could not stretch far enough to reach it. I tried and tried, swinging to gain momentum, until I, being frus-

trated, gave up and fell off the wall, hoping to hide the tears starting to fill up my eyes. I felt angry, cheated, disappointed, and mostly embarrassed because everyone had seen me fall on what was the easiest route of the competition. I went outside to cool off, silently vowing I wouldn’t want to compete the next year because it was too much for me to handle. The next day I went back to the gym, and my friend belayed me (look it up if you need to haha) while I tried the route again and again. I didn’t get it...again but, iI got closer to reaching it. Alas, a tiny light at the end of a long tunnel! That’s really the end of that story... a couple weeks later, I had outgrown my climbing shoes and had to get a bigger pair. that summer, I grew more than 6 inches. I was no longer the shortest person on the team, and I decided I would in fact compete again. I think i was in the bottom ten scores that first year. *there are about 7 or 8 schools, and close to 120-150 competitors each year.

Each year i moved up the ranks, a lot. I also got stronger,taller, and more confident. Competing in front of others didn’t bother me much (still nerving though, I must add). By senior year, I had gone through another pair of shoes, a whole new wardrobe, and finished 4th overall in the series. My high school finished 1st as a team. *Each person was scored individually. Top 5 from each school made up that schools score. I didn’t really change myself, I just naturally changed although I did start working out some but, I was patient, and didn’t give up, and kept climbing and climbing until I was satisfied with my results.

I was figuring out that being short shouldn’t stop me, or being weaker or less confident or anxious, but that if I liked to climb I should just climb and I would I’m prove over time.

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I was fifteen when I began my freshman year of high school. I guess a lot of the kids were eager to begin their high school careers, but I went to a k-12 school in a small rural Christian community; so, being in school with the same people for 13 years didn’t get me all that excited. I was a very accomplished student in grade school and I was determined to keep that up. I joined every club my high school offered except FFA and Skills USA. I also joined the girls’ soccer team, which I had played the sport since 4th grade so I was hell bent on adding that to my list of accomplishments. Most of this stuff I have my parents, mostly my dad, to thank. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have cared half as much about being successful if my dad hadn’t grounded me every time I made a “B” on a report card. Despite all of this “success” as a student, during this period I felt pressured: by my parents, teachers, coaches, and friends. I felt like I had to be this amazing person, and I worried constantly that I was achieving acceptance. I would get embarrassed if I answered a question wrong in class, if someone made a remark about my clothes, if I made even the slightest mistake I felt like I was going to throw up because I was supposed to be this godlike figure, or at least I felt like that was what everyone wanted. As my freshman year went on I began to change. I started wearing darker clothes; I wanted to fit into that angry “emo/scene” genre. I teased my hair, wore skinny pants and converse, and had every band tee imaginable. Maybe I was angry from all the pressure I felt, or I was just tired of the abundance of camo that my peers sported throughout the hallways. Who knows? I began to question my religion and how much of it actually made sense and how much of it seemed like a tall tale lie. I’ve happily been with my girlfriend for three years now. I changed friend groups and met three of the coolest people that I thought would be in my life forever; we all hate each other now.

She was a little crazy and high strung then. I hung out with friends a lot during this time mainly to stay away from home (to keep from fighting with my mom). I was never a “bad kid” but due to my mother’s outbursts and strict rules I wanted to rebel a lot. Rebelling for me looked like me and Maddie driving her moms car to the Cereal Bar when we were 15 (yes we did this lol) and staying out late in the old city during the summer being that young. Also going to one Rated R movie (which I confessed to my mom and got grounded for. I was always a good kid at heart) and occasionally having a foul mouth. Maddie influenced me A LOT during that time. Luckily what I mentioned was the worst trouble I ever went looking for.

As a 15 year old I was in 8th grade and I don’t remember too much from then other than being really weird and having a huge crush on Beau Patton. We planned to date but my parents wouldn’t let me. They had strict rules about me not dating until I was 16 and this made me resent them a lot. However, I had a great relationship with my dad and hung out with him on “daddy daughter dates” often. I fought with my mom ALL the time about everything from her missing eyeliner to me leaving dishes out. One time I went to Maddie’s house and she called me screaming because I left a cereal bowl out on the coffee table.

During this time was one of the worst fights that ever happened with my mom. My dad is in the Air Force so he has to go on trips a lot. He left to go to Texas for 6 months and I was stuck with my mom. Anytime he left she always got really stressed out and fights were a guarantee. I can’t remember what started the biggest fight we had, but after a lot of screaming and yelling at each other. I threatened to call social services and she smacked my face and then held me down so I wouldn’t do anything back. This sounds like a terrible fight but it’s about to get funny. After she did all of that I had a moment a lot like the little boy from the Christmas story when he drops the bowl and says “ohh fuudddge” I screamed at her,

“YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!!” I might as well have killed somebody. Not only was that my first time saying the word, but it was the first time my mother had ever heard me cuss ever. Coming from a Christian home that was a big no-no lol she made me start taking vitamin B-12 pills to make me “happier” and I was grounded for as long as I can remember. What she didn’t know is that I crushed up all of the vitamins and put them in her spaghetti sauce that she was cooking for dinner one night. I finally started to mature a lot after I got over all of my shenanigans. Running track was a big part of my life and gave me a lot of confidence in high school. I also started hanging out more with girls from church during high school so this mellowed me out a lot. I got a lot of my bratty traits from hanging out with Maddie too much lol. When I was 14 I went on a summer church trip, encounter that really changed things for me. I was saved when I was 5 but had never been baptized before. I’ve always seen myself as a Christian but before this camp I had never actually had a quiet time or anything. After the trip was over my walk with God was strengthened and I began to dig in the word daily. I started to grow and mature a lot and when I was 15 I got baptized. I saw that as the real beginning of my ministry and took it very seriously. Being a Christian became my sole identity at that point. My identity struggle from 13-16 could be summed up as being really weird and not cool to still being weird but trying to be cool and to really understanding kind of person I wanted to be.

God has gently shown me who I truly am. Emma “All of my life I have struggled with my identity. From prep to jock to band nerd to girly cheerleader; I have literally been everyone I’ve ever known. Looking back now, I like to assess why, although I was a part of so many clubs, groups & classes, deep down I still felt so empty & out casted. Firstly, I think as humans we try so hard for acceptance, we get caught up in trends & forget at an early age the freedom & beauty of being who we were created to be. I personally have experienced; a broken family, mess ups, breakup’s, drop outs, false religion, heartache, failure, deception & physical, emotional, sexual & spiritual abuse. But all I can feel in this season of life is a crazy freedom & an overwhelming sense of raw love. Although I have been a Christ follower for almost four years now, this very past year has been one of the most crucial to Our relationship. For so long I held on to this false identity of comfort. From comfortable situations & discussions to comfort food, even settling for comfortable relationships. I fell so deep into this pit I was literally being suffocated & chained to this idea of being comfortable. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t make decisions without being absolutely sure of the outcome. I know, how could someone live like that? I’ll tell you, I wasn’t. I wasn’t living at all, I was afraid. So full of fear that I tried to mold myself into everyone around me which indefinitely left me starving. Then, this past year I started to attend a weekly worship session downtown called “Love War”. Through that, God has gently shown me who I truly am. He has consistently whispered things for me to change, people to learn from, adjectives & facts about myself, how to achieve the wildest of dreams & desires of my heart & even how to help other women who have struggled with the same things. Now-a-days, caught up in my twentys, I am continuously learning who I am & I am continuously laying it at His feet. As of now, in this journey of life, I am a tender, adventurous, creative, compassionate dreamer. That is the beginning of who He has created me to be & I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.

Your identity is who you are as a person; your character, your personality, what you like, and what you do not like. But you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have to have all the answers. Finding yourself is a journey and that journey will not end when you are 15. 67

Haley Now that the embarrassing, weird, and awkward mistakes are over with, here is some important advice. And if you actually read this and learn from these steps, your high school years might be a whole lot easier.

The idea of finding yourself (for me, at least) is really based on your goals and ideals. It’s not about what your parents want. It’s not about what your boyfriend or girlfriend wants. It’s not even about what your friends want. You will find that if you try to shape your life around someone else’s idea of perfection, you will fall flat every time. If you instead embrace your own idea of happiness, there’s a good chance you will be more satisfied with the outcome.

So what if every other girl is obsessed with Pretty Little Liars and One Direction while you’re curled up on your couch listening to “Indie Makeout Radio” on Songza and immersing yourself in a good book? (Guilty, by the way.) There is absolutely nothing wrong with that! If all of your friends are partying on the weekends, and you’re writing articles for your high school publication then by all means do it! Don’t make yourself miserable by doing things you’d rather not be doing because if you do that, who wins? Absolutely no one!

This is easier said than done. But, if you strongly believe in a decision you’ve made, you shouldn’t let others sway your opinion. Your friends may begin to comment, unintentionally knocking your ego down a bit. If this happens, don’t let it get you down. Just simply smile, nod, and continue to do whatever you were doing in the first place. If it makes you happy, then why not? Good luck being 15!

Bibliography

Atkinson, Katie. “Finding “Yourself”” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 13 Sept. 2013. Web. 14 Mar. 2014. <http://www.huffingtonpost.com/katie-atkinson/finding-yourself_b_3917449.html>.

“11 Facts About Teens and Self Esteem.” DoSomething.org. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Apr. 2014. <https:// www.dosomething.org/facts/11-facts-about-teensand-self-esteem>.

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