It's Who I Am Magazine April Edition by Tina Toler-Keel

Published by Books and Coffee Publishing Box 320 Whiteville, NC 28472 Backporchwriting@gmail.com

Website: www.itswhoiam.org Facebook: www.facebook.com/itswhoiam.mag Twitter: www.twitter.com/ItsWhoIAmMag 3

Bullying Hurts 13

What Did I

50 Do Wrong?

I Miss My Friend

Table of Contents

About Us

Note from Editor’s Desk

Empty House

Bullying Hurts

Alone, but not Lonely

I Miss My Friend

How Can I Help?

HIDDEN PAIN

Book Review

We Can’t Live Without...

The Real Deal on MONO

If Only

I Don’t Want to be a Doctor

COOKIE CUTTER

40 5

Table of Contents Continued

The Herbalist's Holistic Health Guide

Life as a Drag Queen

It’s Who I Am: Cat Lover

Where Did I Go Wrong?

Am I Wrong?

Stop Texting Me!

Finding Hope After Rape

Adolescent Sexuality, High School, and Being Gay

It’s Jared

Coffee with Frank

Featured Reader

Mother’s Day

70`

About Us Tina Toler-Keel –Founder, Executive Editor, Feature Writer After watching her son, Eric, and many of his friends deal with discrimination, hate crimes, and family disapproval for being gay, Tina Toler-Keel felt it was time to do something. She has written two books for teens, God Said What? and College Bound, and played around with a blog, It’s Who I Am, but always felt there was more for her to. When the inspiration hit for a magazine, Mrs. Toler-Keel did not hesitate and enlisted her son to help out. From there, the magazine has gone from a tiny seed of an idea into a real work of hope and inspiration. Mrs. Toler-Keel is a stay at home mother of four children. Although her oldest is in college and the youngest started Middle School, she feels home with them is where she belongs. When you don’t see her writing and drinking coffee, she can be found hanging out with her kids or out walking her French Mastiff dog, Hooch.You may email Tina at tinatolerkeel@itswhoiam.org

Eric Toler, Co-Worker, Assistant Editor and Feature Writer, is 16 years old, outgoing, and very unique. He enjoys listening to music, spending time with his friends, and styling hair and makeup. He is mildly obsessed with fashion, Lady Gaga, and coffee. However, his true love lies in theatre arts. He plans to study theatre in college and pursue a career in the field. He is 20% eccentric and 100% fabulous. Eric can be reached at eric@itswhoiam.org

Caron Briggs, Staff Writer Caron grew up in several places across the United States due to a father in the Army. She spent a few years in Texas and Virginia, and now resides in North Carolina where she met the fellow staff and founder of It’s Who I am. By moving often, she has experienced many different types of individuals and realizes that we are not all as different as we try to delude ourselves. She has come to the conclusion that no one should be judged without knowledge, and that the world can always use more love and acceptance. By writing and helping with the magazine, she hopes to portray this view point to as many as possible, and hopefully make this world “just a smidge better.”

Jared Talbert, Feature Writer/Columinst is a writer of all sorts. He grew up having a very rough childhood. As a result of that upbringing, he has suffered through years of depression, trauma, and anxiety. He has faced many hardships in his life, but always manages to come through stronger. He once viewed himself as useless, but is now realizing his full value and potential. His hope is that by using his experiences and wisdom, he can help others realize the value in their selves as well.

About Us Continued Emily Toler, Feature writer, is a Freshman at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. She loves to read, write, and sing. Learning about new things and teaching them to others has always been her passion and she hopes to utilize that by becoming an English teacher. She identifies herself as bisexual.

Jonathan Caine Strickland, a musician at heart, has been through it all. From his own stint using drugs and alcohol to deal with life’s pressures to dealing with a father’s death and another family members alcoholism, he knows how easy it is to fall into depression and resort to unhealthy measures to deal. Throughout the last few years, he has lost friends due to drugs, watched friends fight for their lives, and been through bad break ups. Instead of allowing this to take control, he stood up strong and took control of his own life and is learning to make positive changes. When he isn’t eating at the local Mexican restaurant or working at the prison, Jonathan can be found playing his guitar and singing to crowds at local bars. It is his dream to make an album and go for the big spotlight.

Jessica Faithe Toler, Feature Writer, is a young teen who loves to read a good book, listen to great music, and watch Glee with her family. During her fifth grade year, Jessica won at the state level in the Young Author’s Competition. Since then, she has improved her writing skills and loves composing new poems. Jessica is an avid and talented member of the schools prestigious After School Choir and a member of the Art Club. In the evenings, Jessica can most often be found talking on the phone to her boyfriend, Alex.

Andrew J. Schmeets was born in Bellingham, WA, in the May of 1996. His parents moved around a lot for a few years, until they settled down in West Linn, outside of Portland. They stayed there until the middle of Andrew's fourth grade year, when his parents got divorced, and his mom moved in with her new boyfriend, Reggie, in Battle Ground, WA. Since then he's lived there, up until the middle of his freshman year, when he moved in with his dad, in N Portland. He stayed there for only a year, but in that year he learned more lessons than any other in his life. He's moved back in with his mom, and is currently happily living in the middle of nowhere. Andrew is an intelligent, well composed kid. Openly gay, he's gotten support from most everyone around him. He's an avid musician and writer, and dubstep producer. Andrew can be reached at www.facebook.com/f3theboss and http://soundcloud.com/f4tal8

Greetings from Southern North Carolina, I hope the past month has been good to you, and has been full of joy, happiness, and sunshine. If not, remember it does get better and you are not alone. Ups and downs come along just like the rain and sun, but to enjoy one, you must endure the other. My month has been full of ups and downs. On a positive note, my daughter, Emily, came home for Easter so our family was together and Emily and I enjoyed some photo time outside (plenty of pictures for you to view!). My son Eric and my daughter Jessica both performed in Celebrate the Arts, a festival for the best of the best in the county schools. I loved watching them and am very proud of my talented children. As for my youngest son, Jacob, he and I have had more time lately to just chill out and laugh. Those moments are the ones I live for and the ones that make everything else alright. As you know, along with the good comes the bad. A few weeks ago, our cat Avery became very ill and was unable to pull through. She was our baby and queen of our home, so we all took her death fairly hard. If you have had a pet, you know the pain associated with losing one. She will always be remembered and is greatly missed. This month’s issue was exciting to work on, yet it was also difficult emotionally. My favorite piece was “Life as a Drag Queen.” It was fun to learn more about a lifestyle I knew so little about. However, since April is Sexual Assault Month, I finally, after eight years of almost complete silence, broke through my fear and pain, and wrote the most difficult work of my life. For the first time ever I have publicly discussed my rape that happened eight years ago. I did not do it for pity or sympathy. I do not want those things. I don’t need to hear, “Oh I am so sorry.” I don’t want to hear, “Why didn’t you tell?” And I certainly don’t need or want to hear, “What did you do to cause it?” (And yes, people actually respond to rape victims with insensitive questions and accusations.) I wrote it for you, our readers, in hopes that one person is moved to speak out, to take control of his or her life, and stop living in fear and guilt. Moving on to a more pleasant topic – photos; you will notice many of the pictures in the magazine are of the same few teens. They are my kids, Emily, Eric, and Jessica. I am not playing favorites, but until we get more models involved, I am having to do a great deal of the pictures myself. Cody Combs, Brianna Wood, Breanna Walston, and Miranda Griffin are fantastic and are contributing, but their lives as young adults are busy so it’s often difficult for them to find the models, take the pictures, and get them to me. We are working hard on providing a better sampling of models, but in the meantime, please be patient. Once again, if you are interested in writing articles, whether you are interested in doing an article each month or just submitting whenever the mood strikes, or are interested in submitting photos, please do not be afraid to contact us. We are nice people, I promise. Just shoot an email to editor@itswhoiam.org or send one to Eric at eric@itswhoiam.org. This is not just our magazine. It’s yours too. I hope everyone had a great month, and I hope your next month is full of sunshine and joy. Stay strong.

Brianna Wood

Miranda Griffin

Emily Toler

P H O T O G R A P H E R S 10

Codey Combs

Eric Toler

Breanna Walston

Empty House By Andrew Schmeets

Being a teenager is like walking around blind in an unfamiliar house - You go until you hit something, and then turn one way or another. Right now, I feel like I'm walking through a giant, empty room blind. Wandering around aimlessly, grasping onto the air, trying to turn my life in a direction that will hopefully have the least amount of obstacles to run into. But when do we actually get out of our wandering stage? When we move out and have to be self-sufficient? When we have children and have to do our best to guide them through their endeavor in adolescence? I wish there was a guide to finding yourself; a map to adulthood. I feel lost in this giant room, my life has few obstacles, and all this wide open space, which makes me solely responsible in which direction I choose to steer myself. My parents will always be there with a hand on my shoulder, but finding yourself in the dark is a journey that you ultimately, must complete alone.

Get My Drift?

By Jessica Toler

Lately bullying has been a big issue. “Don’t bully!” “If the word bullying is mentioned to a teacher, they have to do something.” “Bullying can get you into some serious legal trouble!” But what exactly is bullying? What does all of this mean? Isn’t picking on kids just a part of childhood? Well the truth is, most of us bully. And most of us don’t even realize what we’ve done, or how bad we hurt others’ feelings. I’ve seen a lot on both sides, and I’ve talked to a lot of people about it. First of all, bullying can include a number of things. It can be verbal abuse, physical abuse, cyber abuse, rumors, telling secrets of theirs, and even just looks. It’s important to know and understand all types of bullying. So if you don’t know what all of these are, I encourage you to research them and educate yourself on them. There are several sites online that can help you. One great site is pacerteensagainstbullying.org and another great one is stompoutbullying.org. I’ve talked to quite a few “bullies” and a lot of times, the “bully” doesn’t mean any harm. Most people don’t realize that not everyone is as strong as everyone else. For some people, it’s just like breathing to take someone’s hurtful words, and push them to the back of their mind, not thinking anything of it, or even just thinking, “They’re the weak ones; I’m stronger than they are.” And for others just someone whispering causes them to break down and think that they’re being picked on. There are several things you can do to make sure that you are not being a bully. Next time you go to whisper behind someone’s back about “that shirt she THINKS is cute,” ask yourself how you would feel if someone said that about you. I know that this often oversaid, but it’s nowhere near enough done. Another thing I’ve found that helps me is to think of the person that I look up to the most. For me that’s my mom, and sometimes I’ll even think of God, but it helps to ask yourself, “Would it disappoint him or her if he or she heard me say this?” You may still be thinking to yourself, even now,” Why is this important?” “Why does it matter if I hurt their feelings, shouldn’t they just grow up?” Well maybe in some cases, they should. But they don’t. People shouldn’t drive drunk, but does that mean we shouldn’t treat them like human beings if they do? Here’s a little statistic for you: suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death among those 15 to 25 years of age and the 6th leading cause of death among those 5 to 14 years of age. Yes, 5-year-old kids are killing themselves. Yes, people get overwhelmed, and get it stuck in their heads that they are no good. That they would be better off dead, and they truly believe that. 14

Suicide is a very deep topic; we could write an article just about that. But to sum it up, most suicide is caused by of bullying. Perhaps you have heard about Amanda Cummings, a 15-year-old girl who was bullied at school. She walked in front of a bus, carrying a suicide letter. Even if you haven’t heard of her, I’m sure you’ve heard of others like her. And maybe you’ve even had someone close to you end his or her own life. And the really depressing and hard to believe part is that many people think she was the one who did wrong. “Sure she was hurting, but that didn’t give her a reason to take her own life.” And yes, she did have so much more to live for, but in a world where people say that kind of stuff, can you really blame her? Shooting at schools as a result of bullying is another hot topic many of you may have heard or read about. Have you heard about the boy at Virginia Tech who killed 32 people? Students there admitted the fact that he was bullied. And I personally do believe that was the reasoning behind what he did. And yes, this was both wrong and scary. But I can’t help to think, would this have been different if he had someone who would stick up for him? Someone who would tell people that what they were doing to him was wrong? I believe so. Do you get my drift here? No, I’m not telling you all these things to make you scared to go to school, or to depress you. I’m telling you these things to show what all bullying can really do. I want you all to realize that even if you think what you are doing is little, it’s not. It may seem that way, but when you add it all up together, you get disaster. So PLEASE think twice before telling that boy “You’ll never get a girlfriend” Or telling that girl, “That’s a face not even a mother could love,” or any other hurtful comments or actions. Just remember what all this could add up to, and what could even happen to you in the long run. If you are being bullied, and are thinking of committing suicide, SEEK HELP! Talk to an older family member, talk to your school counselor, or even a trustworthy teacher. And if it seems as is no one is there for you, call a suicide hotline, or even email us and tell us your story; we may be able to help. THERE IS ALWAYS HELP SOMEWHERE! The National Suicide Prevention Hotline can always be reached at 1-800-273-8255.

Tina Toler-Keel

I love quiet days when my husband is at work and my kids are at school. The house is quiet, with the exception of a washing machine’s hum, my dog’s snore, and the pecking of a keyboard, and I am able to focus on my own inner self and any writing I need to accomplish. I seldom turn on the radio, and never have on the television. This is my time to spend with me, to figure out who I am, what I want, what I am feeling, and to just be. I especially love quiet Mondays. After a weekend of business, it’s great to just sit and be very quiet. I didn’t always feel this way. Until a few years ago, being alone meant hell for me. On the rare occasions no one was home, I had a television on in every room or the radio blaring, sometimes both. The quiet made me lonely. I hated it. Things changed for me over the years. I learned that being alone didn’t mean I would always be lonely, nor did it mean automatic loneliness. In fact, some of my loneliest times have been when I have been in the company of others and felt like an outsider. I also learned I didn’t need to have someone with me to entertain me, keep me company, or talk to me. I was quite capable of doing those things for myself. Looking back, I believe much of my hatred of being alone was based upon my belief it was someone else’s place to make me happy. It took a divorce, a move from my extended family, and a lot of soul searching to realize it was not someone else’s responsibility. My happiness laid entirely in my own hands. When reading tweets, my mind goes back to my younger days, many years ago. I read about teens in high school worried they will never find the right person and they are doomed to never have a good relationship. I read about them wanting to snuggle at night and being depressed over being alone. I had those same feelings. I felt unworthy and unloved. I remember lying in my single bed, dreaming of a day when someone would be beside me, because I just knew that would mean I would never be lonely. Looking back, I see how flawed that thinking was, but at the time, it ate the core of my being, sucking away any happiness I found in anything else, such as reading or hanging out with friends. For me, I think the fallacy came from television. Back then, we had the Cosby Show, Family Ties, and Who’s the Boss. Yes, they all had arguments and things were never perfect, but their problems were tiny compared to real life, and they were always solved easily, and in thirty minutes. Families stuck by one another, and friends were real friends. The shy, geeky girl always got the hot guy (think Pretty in Pink) and everything ended up going their way. When my life wasn’t like that and the guy I crushed on didn’t give me a second glance, I didn’t think, “Hey, this is reality. It’s okay.” Instead, I thought, “Oh my god. I am horrible. I am ugly. I don’t have anything to offer. I’m a bore. I’m doomed for the rest of my life.” Perhaps many of you feel that way. Like you need your friends by your side 24/7, need a boyfriend or girlfriend to make you happy, or need life to be sitcom perfect. Maybe you sit alone in your room at night, feeling alone and lonely because no one is calling, texting, or on Twitter. You may think you are being ignored and like you deserve it. Well, here’s the thing. Maybe you are being ignored, but so what? It may have absolutely nothing to do with you, as a person. Perhaps your friends are busy. Maybe they have a test the next day they are preparing for, or they are grounded, or busy with another friend. It certainly doesn’t mean it is the end of the world, even if it feels like it at the moment, and it doesn’t mean everyone hates you.

When you find yourself alone, do things you enjoy! If you want to dance, turn your speakers up and dance the night away. Enjoy a good book? Then this is the perfect opportunity to sit and read. Maybe romantic comedies are your weakness. Don’t wait for friends, go by yourself, rent one, or watch one online. Or, write in a journal and search inside to figure out who you are. There is nothing to fear about being alone, for it is only when we are with ourselves that we learn who we are. Until you know yourself, inside and out, know your likes and dislikes, your morals and values, and know what makes you happy, you will never be fully content with someone else. Make yourself your best friend and embrace the moments you are alone. You just may realize you are a fantastic person and you like being with you! Being alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely. Let that idea go, and enjoy the quiet.

Think Blast music and sing along Read a good book Take a long nap Enjoy a long bubble bath Go for a walk Rearrange your room Read It’s Who I Am Magazine Daydream

I MISS MY FRIEND By: Aaron Shank

So I've been having trouble sleeping (even more so than usual) and last night I finally found what was up. I miss my best friend. Not the ones from school. I mean my true best friend. He's been by my side for 18 years now and I haven't seen him in over a year. I miss my dog Maverick. I keep staring at the ceiling trying to sleep, but all I get is mental gifs of us playing around. I remember living in Alabama. He used to steal biscuits and such from us and bury them in the backyard. Then I remember going out in the backyard one day to find a "biscuit tree" and believing that all the biscuits he buried actually grew to make a tree. I remember freaking out over a huge spider when I was young. I remember how he ran in after I yelled and killed it. I remember having to leave my dad's house in middle school and going to my room to find him curled up on my bed looking so sad. I remember the numerous times he would run away. The last time I was there to run after him, he looked at me with the happiest eyes ever, like it was a game of â&#x20AC;&#x153;duck duck gooseâ&#x20AC;? and he chose me. I remember it being hard in high school. Coming home with few friends just to have the parents I thought I loved harass me. I remember going upstairs to contemplate what was the point of everything to see him waiting for me. For him to curl up with me at night and make me forget the horrors of the previous day. Then I remember running away. I remember not worrying about my things, not about the life I have slowly built while in this house, but I thought of my dog. I wished that I could take him but I could not. And now I just remember him; I remember how his fur was no longer pure black. I remember how he had bad hip problems and we would have to fill in his holes so he wouldn't dislocate something. I remember how on his purple tongue there was a black spot, and when he ate peanut butter his eyes would roll to the back of his head as if he were eating heaven itself. And I miss him. I love him. And I just want to see him one more time before his time is up. 19

How Can I Help? ~

Caron Briggs

I am that girl you go to if you need to talk. I’m not sure when it happened, or if it’s always been this way, or what about me makes people feel safe, but I have ended up the secret holder for many of the people in my life. I don’t resent this fact; it has by default made me a great listener. However, because of my talent of secret keeping I have learned to dread one question: “What should I do?” Anyone who has had a friend, or even a stranger in my case, come up to him or her upset and confused knows that one thing is going to happen: you are about to be asked for advice. Most people try to escape this advice giving aspect of a difficult conversation by mumbling the ever-reliable lines of “Go with your heart.” “Things will work out, don’t worry.” Or any other line that is a go to when you have no idea why a problem concerns you. Unfortunately for me, or perhaps fortunately for all the people coming to me to talk, I loathe using such generic lines. I instead try a somewhat novel approach: actually listening to the problem. I have always been a somewhat logic based person—after all, I spent my entire life observing rather than talking—so certain issues seem extremely simple for me to fix. However, just because I’m logic based doesn’t mean I don’t feel, or understand that emotions are often at the heart of every issue. The key to truly being helpful and supportive when someone goes to you with a problem is to listen and process what emotions this person is feeling. It doesn’t matter if you feel like the problem is hopeless and rather childish, and it doesn’t matter if you think the problem is way too big for you to handle; that person came to you. So, because he or she came to you, he or she is expecting some feedback in return. What many do not realize when someone comes to them with a problem is that a lot of times, that person just needs to talk. His or her problem has filled him or her to the brim with tension and emotion, and every word he or she says takes just a little more of that tension from him or her. Some people literally just need a shoulder to cry on for a while. 20

On the other hand, some people may actually need you when they talk about their problem to you. There is a certain level of trust involved when someone tells you a problem, and that is he or she expects you to keep it to yourself and make him or her feel better. I know. That is a lot of responsibility. But it is really simple if you apply yourself and focus on these guidelines: 1.) Is the problem he or she is talking about really the true issue, or is it the emotions behind it? Pay attention to how the person talks to you, and look for if he or she seems a bit more on edge than you think they should be. 2.) Listen to how he or she says things. Not many realize it, but we put certain emphasis on words when we speak to try and relate our feelings. By paying attention to the words the person talking to you stresses, you can deduct what or who is truly upsetting him or her and respond more personally than you normally would.

3.) Always, always keep a grain of truth in you when you respond back. It doesn’t matter if you think being truthful will hurt that person, the truth is always better. A lot of the time when people discuss problems with others, they need help cutting through the emotions and personal attachments to the problem. While it may seem harsh, truthful advice actually helps solve problems. 4.) Remain knowledgeable. Sometimes, problems are bigger than what you expect them to be. By keeping up to date on ways to deal with big sociological problems you can relay feedback that will get that person help. Stay knowledgeable of places or people who can handle problems bigger than you; whether it is depression, abuse, bullying, or any other issues, a professional can often help more than you can. By keeping smart about how to properly deal with tough issues, you can be the one to lead others onto a healthy path. 5.) You can’t help everyone. We often forget when we give advice that the problem we are dealing with is not our own. It is easy to become wrapped up in someone else’s issues and no longer focus on our own life. When giving advice, always keep in mind that you are only giving advice. Once you’ve tried to help that person, and once you’ve tried to put him or her on the right path, you are NOT responsible for his or her choices. The most you can do in life is offer help to people; despite all your effort, you cannot change them. Perhaps you are like me, and everyone comes to you. Or perhaps you hardly ever get someone pleading for advice. Regardless of your normal role in life, sometime, somewhere, someone is going to need you to help. Please don’t be another one of the many people who can’t focus on the problems around them. While the problems may not directly affect you, solving them can make the world a better and more loving place. Everyone needs someone to talk to, even if they don’t think they do. By keeping in mind the basics I’ve tried to convey to you, I know that you can make a difference.

HIDDEN PAIN

Adrienne Branson 22

For many, cutting or any other form of self-harm is a topic of taboo— something to be whispered about behind closed doors and hidden away. Because of such negative undertones attached to it, many who suffer from self-harm don’t talk about it. Over the past few years, organizations such as “To Write Love On Her Arms” and “Holding Of Wrist” have made a conscious effort to disband the secrecy attached to teens and young adults who suffer from self-harm, and it is now recognized properly by medical professionals and the like. However, these organizations don’t quite hit the mark for some selfharm abusers. The organizations often focus on overcoming the problem, showing that the abusers are loved, and making an ever-flowing effort to prevent what they believe is the next step after cutting: suicide. Self-harm abusers are drowned in a deluge of love and medical terms and reasoning to force them to see how their cutting is wrong and why they have to stop. While this works for many, some don’t take them sincere and tend to never seek the help they need. What flaw causes those self-harm abusers to never seek help? Hardly anyone addresses the gut of the problem: why do they do this? Many cutters can’t give a reason why they cut, and often shy away or respond with an extreme emotion when questioned about their deadly habit. As a cutter myself, I hope to explain why this reaction is normal, and why many don’t stop even if they seek help.

reviously, I addressed cutting as a habit, an explanation to which many professionals would disagree with, and a term that many self-harm abusers will adopt for themselves. Why is there such an extreme difference in how that one word is perceived? Honestly, it’s simply because in the core of the problem; that is what cutting is: a habit. Cutting is a habit developed out of the need to cope, and often, it becomes addictive like many other coping habits do. Imagine or think back to a day when nothing seemed to go right for you. Maybe your alarm didn’t go off. Then you broke a glass or plate. Then you tripped on your way out the door. Then you realized on your way to somewhere dire that you forgot something important and needed. Then you had a disagreement with a friend or family member. Then maybe a list of other seemingly unimportant things continued to happen and wear you down. Now, think of what you or someone else might normally deal to cope with this whirlwind of stress and emotions. Perhaps you would sit back and have a cigarette. Or have a drink. Or blast music so loud you stop thinking. Or cry into a pint of ice cream while a sappy movie about some dog or couple blares in the background. All of those are coping methods born from habits. Now, think of the emotions and stress you felt before you performed your chosen coping method. Think about if those feelings became unbearable, weighted on you with every breath or move, suffocated you with a need for release from all the emotional pain and burdening. Those feelings you just thought about are what a cutter feels the moment he or she decides to cut. They are craving a release and only know one way to find it, and that is when they put a blade to their skin. What may seem harsh to someone who doesn’t suffer from self-harm is like pure relief to an abuser. In that moment when the cutting takes place, or perhaps right after, an inconceivable burden is lifted away from the abuser and he or she feels nearly human and normal again. Now, many self-harm abusers don’t believe they have a problem. I was once one of them. They scoff at the wrong notions and negative reasoning pushed towards cutting and think only of why they do it, and only of the relief of stress and raw emotion it provides. However, deep down they feel that it’s wrong, hiding the marks of their “release” from strangers and even the people closest to them. At first they might claim it is only because they know others would make them stop, force them away from their addictive habit. But they know the truth hidden away in them so much like the marks hidden away on their skin; they are ashamed. Abusers go through a roller coaster of cloud-soaring strength, and of bone-crushing weakness. With each cut, they get stronger, and they get weaker. It is with this roller coaster that they begin to experience the same thing all people who deal with addictions go through: it only gets worse. As mentioned before, many organizations believe that the next step of cutting is suicide. This is because of the common path of escalation cutters normally take. Like many addicts they become dependent of the release given to them by cutting. And also like many addicts, they begin to need more and more of their deadly habit to feel the same release and euphoria they remember. Cutting happens more often, and the cuts become deeper, longer, and deadlier for smaller things. Because of the nature of what cutters do, the possibility of someone getting seriously hurt escalates along with the addiction. Just like a drug abuser may accidently overdose seeking a high, a cutter may accidently bleed to death trying to obtain a release. While it is true that many suicides by cutting are intentional, even more of those suicides are accidents made by addicts in the search of obtaining euphoria.

t is because of the high risk factor attached to their deadly habit that self-harm abusers and cutters should seek help. Trust me, I know itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hard. I know that every slip up you have due to a bad day make you feel more lost and fuels your craving to go back to that coping method. But listen to me: It is worth it. There are people who care about you, there are people who love you, and there are people who just want to make sure you stay safe regardless of how clichĂŠ the organizations you looked at or heard about made it seem.

t is with these people who care and who love that you can feel human and normal again without the help of cutting. With every relapse I have, or any urge I feel just to relapse, there are people I realized that are there to help me up. There are people to listen to those feelings you find so weak, and when they listen, you will feel that cloud-soaring strength fill you up again. I am the first to say that the process of quitting is not instant, and I am the first to say that it is not easy. In fact, it is perhaps the hardest thing you will accomplish in your life. Nevertheless, you will accomplish it, and with that accomplishment, you will feel unstoppable.

Scars by Cheryl Rainfield *Disclaimer* As many of you are already aware, I highly admire and respect author Cheryl Rainfield. In fact, I had one of my greatest honors last month when I was had the opportunity to interview her. She is not only a phenomenal woman and teen advocate, but she is one of the best authors I have read. Before I begin my review of Scars, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. I am not writing the review, nor do I run advertisements for her because she is a friend, but because she deserves it. In fact, when I first read Scars, I barely knew who she was. From there, my respect has grown. The review is from my heart, based upon her work as an author, not on our friendship. *Review of Scars* Scars, written by Cheryl Rainfield, is a young adult fiction book filled with twists and gut retching emotions. As she wrote the book, Cheryl poured out her heart and soul, searched deep inside and carried her emotional scars to the surface in an attempt to move the reader to a deeper understanding of sexual abuse and self-mutilation. Her attempt was not in vain; Cheryl expertly shows trauma and pain many shy away from speaking about. The heroine of the book, Kendra, was sexually molested and is unable to remember her assailant. Memories begin to unfold as she learns her assailant is stalking her, and wants her gone. She knows she her safety is threatened and she must not share the threats with anyone. Her emotions are raw and the only way she knows to deal with them and move forward is to harm herself. Cutting quickly becomes her coping mechanism and remains hidden from her therapist, her mother, and her friends. Through a mentor and art teacher, Kendra finds a healthier alternative to coping by drawing. Cheryl aptly describes the details of the emotional art Kendra produces by using her own portrait she did as a youth. The details are written in a way that allows the reader to envision the powerful painting. Once Kendra meets Meghan, her life begins changing. As their relationship builds and grows, Kendra relies on Meghan for advice and shares her fears. Although Meghan is a promiscuous teen who seems to love the guys, Kendra falls hard. With the help of Meghan and her therapist, Kendra remembers details of her molestation and learns the identity of her molester. When her mother fails to believe her, mayhem breaks loose and danger prevails. After one horrible night, lives are changed forever. Laced with important and serious issues such as self-harm, molestation, repressed memories, promiscuity, homosexual feelings and lifestyles, and emotional outbreaks, Cheryl gives help to those who need it most in the form of a heart-stopping story. This book is a must-read for anyone who has faced tragedy, knows someone who has, or anyone who wants to sit down with a good book. I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t recommend it enough.

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ononucleosis, or Mono, is a virus that can affect anyone, but according to the US Library of National Health it most prevalent in teens ages 15-17. The virus is spread via saliva, thus giving it the nickname, “the kissing disease”; however, kissing is definitely not the only way to contact Mono. It is also spread through sneezing, coughing, or sharing a straw, glass, or eating utensil with someone infected with the virus.

lmost everyone has been exposed to the Esptein-Barr virus at some point in his or her life without knowing it. Typically, the Epstein-Barr virus only causes cold like symptoms and is never diagnosed, but for some, the virus paths the past for the more serious, more miserable virus, Mono .Most medical professionals are in agreement once a person has been infected with Mono, he or she will not have a repeat episode due to the antibodies the bodies the body produces; however, according to the Center for Disease control (http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/diseases/ ebv.htm), the virus can lie dormant for years with occasional times of reactivation which generally do not produce any symptoms.

lthough Mono isn’t normally a dangerous or life threatening disease, it causes mild to moderate discomfort which can last from four to six weeks, and sometimes can linger for months. If you contact Mono, take time to rest and heal. Do not push yourself to go back to regular activities. If you are in school, you may need to speak with your principal or guidance counselor about temporary home schooling. Any vigorous activities, such as moderate to high impact sports, must be put on hold until the doctor gives you a release. By not listening to medical advice and going back to activities, you are putting your body through torture. Also, the likelihood of rupturing a spleen while recuperating from Mono is high.

he most common symptoms of Mononucleosis are: · Fatigue and increased sleepiness · Fever · Headache · Skin Rash, especially if taking an antibiotic for strep throat · Sore throat, and possible strep throat that does not react to antibiotics · Night Sweats · Swollen lymph nodes in neck and arm pits

As with any virus or illness, there are certain things to be aware of. If any of the following occur, contact medical attention immediately. (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/ PMH0001617/)

Always visit a doctor if you think you may have Mono and follow his or her advice. In most cases, a great deal of rest, drinking plenty of fluids, and taking care of yourself is the only treatment you may need.

A Personal Tale of Rape

If Only A Personal Account of Rape

Throughout the past eight years, I have told only a few close friends about the night that will live in my mind forever, but until today, I have never had the guts to put it on paper and share with the world. Today, I bravely look into the past, remembering painful events, and reliving a terrifying experience. I am sharing a look into a world that seems so far away, yet lives inside me each day. I am breaking away from my fear, shame, and hidden guilt, and sharing the most personal part of me in hopes that my experience sheds light on a taboo subject and perhaps helps one of you, or someone you love, get through a horrific event, or perhaps if I am so bold as to dream, prevents a horrifying nightmare from becoming a reality that will haunt you for the rest of your life. At the age of eighteen, I was raped by someone I had considered a friend. I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, had a couple drinks (honestly, I was only slightly tipsy and not drunk, unlike many times I was at this particular house), and was quite frankly too insecure with myself to stop it. When I finally mentioned to a few people several weeks after it happened, I was not met with comforting words, hugs, and encouragement, but with words of blame. Why was I there to begin with? How had I led the guy on? Why was I lying about something so horrible? Fingers were never pointed at the guy, only at me. I learned to shut up and deal with it on my own. For years, I hated him. I hated him enough I truly believe I could have killed him. But I didn’t. I never said anything else and just muddled through the best I could. I saw him frequently since we lived in a small town and although when I did I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, I just smiled and waved like nothing happened. What made it worse was to this day I am positive he had been so high he doesn’t even know what happened. He doesn’t remember the bruises he left on my arms. He doesn’t know the emotional scars he left. He woke up hours later with no recollection of my nightmare and went on with his life while I was left carrying the burden. Eventually I healed. Not completely, but enough to move on with my life. As my ex-husband and I were shopping one day, we ran into him. His life had completely changed. He no longer drank nor did he use drugs. He was clean, sober, and to my shock, a preacher. Once I saw how much better his life was and he had left the dangers of drugs and alcohol behind, something changed inside me. I forgave him. I can only contribute the change in me to God. Nothing or no one else could have ever cleansed me that deeply. My story stopped being one of tragedy and heartache and became one of hope and inspiration. I was a new person and I was truly happy. Many years after the eighteen year old me had been raped, I began my family and lived in security, knowing there was always the possibility of a stranger rape, but believing I was safe from acquaintance or date rape. I let down my guard and lived a normal, carefree life. All that changed in the blink of an eye on beautiful spring evening. When my children were younger, my husband (now my ex) started medical school. It was such an exciting time in our life, full of hope, happiness, and dreams. My youngest was two and was a great deal of fun, and my oldest were having the time of their lives with new friends in a new town. It was the perfect time for me to start back to school part time and focus on me. I was finally doing what I should have done years ago – pursue my education. Walking into the doors the first time, smelling the old familiar smells that all schools carry, wandering down a hallway, sitting at a desk with a pen and paper handy, and knowing a new life was starting was exhilarating.

After being a stay at home mom for almost ten years, I loved meeting new people and making friends. Some were a lot younger and fresh out of high school, but some at the community college I attended were my age. In my biology lab, a great guy was the teaching assistant, and we quickly hit it off, laughing at stupid jokes, working on biology projects, and sharing stories of our children. It never occurred to me to worry or think anything was wrong with our relationship. We were never alone, and although I admit we did flirt, it was just good fun, or it was for me. Our relationship reminded me of ones I had in high school. I was always good friends with guys, and none of them ever crossed a line, nor did they want to (at least as far as I am aware). I had plenty of boyfriends, but it was my male friends who got me through the tough times. This is what I thought I had found once again, and I was happy about that. Yeah, I had two best girlfriends I hung out with, but there is something about hanging out with a guy that is sometimes easier. It’s like, I didn’t worry so much about being judged, or talked about behind my back, or worry what they thought of my husband, good or bad. I was just me. That may not make sense to girls who have never had a guy for a best friend, but for those who have, they will understand that concept completely. Class was cancelled at the last minute on a Wednesday night, and I was in no big hurry to rush home. I loved my kids and my husband, but honestly, they had battled with colds and were cranky, and I was in desperate need of a little me time. My friend who I will call J. D. sat with me while I drank a coke and told me about the bio lab getting in fetus pigs. I was, and still am, fascinated by anything to do with birth, including fetus’ in jars. I know, that’s kinda gross, but it’s who I am. I thought, How many times in my life will I ever get to see a real fetus pig? I imagined that would be my only chance, and so far, that assumption has been correct. J.D. offered to walk with me to the bio lab and since he had the keys, he would allow me to view the pigs. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. Things were going great. I was able to get a really good view of the little pigs and was in awe of the miracle of creation. Although the pigs had died (I allowed myself to believe they died of natural causes, although I will never know, and don’t really want to know, the real truth), they were still incredible to look at. I remember each little detail, right down to their tiny slits that would have eventually became full ears. When I had finally had enough, J.D. put the jars back into the cabinet and locked it up and told me they also had something else I would love to see in the back closet. I was still on an educational high from seeing the pigs and thought Wow, I get to see something else this cool? My life is awesome! Without pausing for even a second, I followed him into the dark closet. “Where is the light switch?” I asked as I felt on the wall, hunting for a way to shed light into the dark, too close for comfort room. “Um, I think it’s one you have to pull the chain on. Help me feel around so I don’t stumble over something and I will find it.” I was naïve, and I trusted my friend. I took his hand and allowed him to guide me further into the dark room. As soon as I took two steps, he turned suddenly and shut the door. I heard the clank of the lock and began getting nervous. “Why did you shut and lock the door?” I knew he had a reasonable explanation. After all, I was an overweight mother of four, not some sexy little freshman student with long flowing blonde locks. In fact, my hair was in a growing out stage and looked homely. In spite of my low self-esteem, knowledge that I was older than a younger guy would be interested in, and my weight, something inside me told me I was in trouble. I shook that fear away and hung onto believe in my friend. “We don’t want anyone catching us in here and getting us in trouble, do we?” 34

Of course he was right. I had no idea what he was planning on showing me, but I knew our teacher kept this room locked and I assumed she had a good reason. I was making straight A’s in her class, and she was by far the hardest teacher I had ever had and I certainly didn’t want to disappoint her by being somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. Looking back, I can’t explain why I went against something I knew she would disapprove of. If there was something really cool locked in that room, she apparently didn’t want her biology students bothering it, and that should have been enough to keep me away. I guess curiosity, and perhaps the secret thrill of actually doing something wrong got the best of me and I abandoned all common sense. If only I would have thought. If only I would have listened to my instinct when I told myself, Stay out of her personal space. If only I would have locked the mischievous little girl back inside myself and let the responsible adult remain. If only. Before I really had time to think, I was lying on a cold, dirty floor. My skirt was bunched up under my hips and my underwear were pulled to the left side. Sticky goo ran down my legs, the telltale sign of what I was able to momentarily block out. It only lasted a few minutes, or at least that’s what I think. While it happened, I was able to escape to another world – a world away from a friend taking what he wanted regardless of what I said. Did I fight back? I hope I did, but I’m not even sure. I don’t know if I tried to scream. I don’t know if I cried. I don’t know if it hurt at the time. I don’t know what it felt like to be taken against my will. I don’t know if I just laid there silently or if I kicked and scratched. From the time he grabbed me harshly in his arms until I laid there bleeding and sticky, I don’t know anything. He got up, put on his pants, unlocked the door and casually said, “We better get going.” That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. He acted like nothing had happened. But it had. I had been raped. I pulled my skirt down and walked with my head held low toward the bathroom. I didn’t speak to him, nor did I look at him. As I walked through the bathroom door, he said, “See ya later.” I didn’t reply. Our class was the only class held on that floor on Wednesday nights and since ours had been cancelled, no one was around. I sat on the bathroom floor for what felt like hours, crying. I couldn’t 35

clean myself up. I couldn’t bear to look myself into the mirror. I hated him. I hated myself. I hated life. If I would have had a knife with me, or even a gun, I am not sure, but I believe I would have ended my life right there in that college bathroom. I didn’t want to go home and face my husband and my children. I didn’t want to walk down a flight of stairs and see other students. I didn’t want to get into my car and drive. I didn’t want anything but to die. Yes, I felt guilty. I still do. If I had not been friends with a man, if I had not wanted to see a pig fetus, if I had listened to my gut and been a responsible student, if I hadn’t needed a break from kids, if I had been responsible and left the school when I saw the note saying classes had been cancelled and gone grocery shopping, if I had not ever flirted, even innocently, if I had…. If only I had done something different. But things are what they are. Maybe if I had not done any of those things, or if I had done something else, I would not have been raped that night. But then again, maybe it would have been worse. A few months later, J.D.’s wife called me asking if I had seen him. She knew we had talked some and often had a coke together with a few other students when our teacher gave us a break. She informed me he had found his way in trouble and three girls had turned him in for sexual harassment, and one had admitted he molested her. He had left without a note, a word, or a forwarding address. Behind him, he left a heartbroken wife, a small son, and women who lost a part of them they will never regain. I am one of the women he stole from, yet I was not brave. I did not tell anyone what happened. I never went to a school official, or the police, or even my own husband. I did not stand up for the girls who had turned him in. I didn’t speak out. I silently betrayed the young girls he had harassed and I betrayed the girl he molested. For that, I will never forgive myself. I will always carry the fear of trusting a man with me as long as I live. For different reasons, my husband and I eventually divorced and I am remarried. I know there will always be a part of me that I keep away from my husband, and I will never fully trust him. It isn’t his fault, nor is it mine. It is J.D’s. He took away my trust and left a lingering fear and an unending underlying guilt. I have no idea where J.D. is today, and for the most part I don’t care. But, I do worry that because I was afraid of the consequences, of the judgment, of the whispers, and of reliving the event, more girls have been hurt by him. That is the one thing I will never forgive myself for, the one thing that I will regret until my body is laid to rest. I would love to apologize to anyone he has hurt because my silence kept him free, but I can’t. I can never repair any hurt he has since caused and I cannot go back and fix it. I would if I could. I would, if only…

Finding the Right Path

By Emily Toler 37

I’m a daddy’s girl. I always have been, and I always will be. My dad may hurt my feelings, make me angry, or not spend enough time with me, but I love that man. My father is a flawed human being, but he was like a god to me when I was younger. I thought the earth revolved around him and the sun rose and set for him alone. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother as well, but I’m a huge daddy’s girl. When I was younger, my dad was a registered nurse. He worked a lot, but he absolutely loved his job. When I was in the third grade, he applied and was accepted to the West Virginia School of Osteopathic Medicine. We moved to Lewisburg, West Virginia, where the school is located, and started a new journey with him: the journey to him becoming a doctor. Most of my memories from third grade to the present revolve around my dad’s career. From the time I started fourth grade to the time I finished seventh grade, he was in medical school, studying how to become a doctor, treat other people, and save lives. He attended lectures, labs, and events. He also spent countless hours studying. My family was friends with one of the staff of WVSOM, so I got to go there a lot. I got to see firsthand where my dad learned, even though I never got to attend a lecture. I got to see where they kept the cadavers; one time, I even touched one. WVSOM became my hangout spot for four years. I watched my dad study, saw the books, and touched the face bones that my dad used to learn about the skeleton. It was fascinating. Today, my dad’s an OB/GYN. He adores his job, and I’m extremely proud of him for getting to where he’s at. When it came time for me to pick a college, I had to start thinking about my future career. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a librarian or something to do with the English language. However, growing up around a father whose whole life was learning medicine had a tremendous effect on me. Instead of wanting to become a teacher or a librarian, I started dreaming instead of becoming a doctor myself. I wanted to help people the way my dad did. I wanted people to look up to me. I wanted to say “I worked my ass off, and this is my reward.” I wanted the white coat with my name on it, the 38

stethoscope, the office, the patients, the co-workers. I wanted to be able to sit around with my dad and talk about medical stuff. So, when asked for the major that I wanted to pursue, I put down “nursing.” I was going to do it like my dad did; I was going to be a nurse and then go to medical school to become a doctor, maybe even an OB/GYN. I left my dreams of teaching English in the dust. During my first semester of college, I had a lot of things happen. My depression returned, my anxiety got worse, I stopped going to class, and I stopped doing my homework. Over Christmas break, my biggest worry was if I was going to be able to come back to school or not. I had nightmares every night. I cried myself to sleep often. I was a wreck. During that time, I did some serious soul searching. I realized that part of the reason I gave up is because I wasn’t working towards a goal that I really, really, wanted. I realized that I didn’t want to be a doctor at all; all I really wanted to do was teach high school English. I recently changed my major to Secondary English Education. In some ways, the decision was easy, like breathing. It was what I really wanted, after all. In some ways, however, it was difficult. I was leaving behind the life I envisioned for myself, one where my dad and I would sit around and discuss medical cases. I thought that if I was anything other than a doctor, my dad wouldn’t be as proud of me as he would be if I was a doctor. I was anxious about telling my dad about his decision – he was so happy to have a daughter who was pursuing nursing. However, I came to the conclusion that this is my life, not his, and while I will always be interested in the medical field, my heart and soul is in teaching English. I’m happy with my decision; I’m working towards something I know I want, and my dad is still proud of me.

Caron Briggs

Cookie Cutter “Cookie cutter.” That phrase has always disgusted me, despite my love of baking. It is a phrase that implies that everything has to be the same, and that differences have to be cast away so all of us can fit the same mold. That it is fine and dandy if you’re part of the majority; but what if you’re part of the minority? I’ve always been someone who is a little bit quiet and says something that’s a little off-kilter. To tell the truth, when I first realized that fact about my self, I was devastated. Anything I said or did was cast away by the majority, a.k.a. the popular. I began to think that because I was so strange that I would never get to find my niche and I’d spend my life on the outskirts of what was seen. However, I soon discovered that this didn’t have to be the case. So what if I decided to sit and read instead of play tag? So what if I was drawing something strange in the margins of my paper while other girls were doodling initials? So what if I knew the answer when a question was asked in class? These were the things that made me different, but different didn’t have to be a bad thing. It was because I read so much that I knew how to express my thoughts with the words that I wanted and I didn’t have to be one of those people who sat for hours flipping through a thesaurus. I knew exactly how I wanted to say my thoughts. Because I drew in the margins of my paper instead of wrote down the “cute boy in class” initials, I managed to stay innocent of heartbreak for a few more years. Also, because I knew the answers to the questions in class, I could help that other quiet kid who sat next to me, who was trying desperately to figure out what the teacher was talking about. These were only some of the many good aspects that came out of me being “different.” I realized something crucial in the years when my differences seemed to glare me in the face, and that was my differences were what made me into who I am. So what if the majority didn’t get my obscure paranormal references? And so what if they were shocked when they realized that when I actually got away from my book I could kick a kickball and catch a baseball just as well, if not better than the rest of them? Slowly, we all begin to find that the things that make us different allow us to coexist better. It is when we embrace our differences that we find others who share in them and the awkward social separations formed in the first place. No matter how much they may be put down by others, our differences just make us who we are. That person putting you down has a difference about him or her too, and even if that difference is being able to do sports better than others, it’s still a difference. We need to remember that the majority really only share the same differences, and that being different is actually the only thing keeping them together. Don’t hide that secret talent that you think is too far from the mainstream to get noticed, and don’t talk yourself out of expressing your thoughts just because someone may find them too weird. When you decide to be strong and embrace who you are, that is when others see the real you, and the majority slips away into a thing of the past. We may all view ourselves by the “cookie cutter” viewpoint at one segment in our lives, but we need to remember, we are the bakers. So what if you’re not everyone’s flavor? That just means your rare and far more appreciated just for who you are. We decide what type of cookie we want to be, and a little imperfection or deviance from the recipe doesn’t mean we aren’t still amazing on the inside.

The Herbalist's Holistic Health Guide By Jared Talbert One thing that some may not know about me is that I practice herbalism. It's a very spiritual practice, and fascinating to see, as many natural things have amazing effects and benefits to the human body. While some cures and remedies involve little known plants and ingredients, a surprising amount involve common things we come into contact with every day. We all get sick, and we all have medical problems; itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s an inevitable part of life. For many of us, however, most medicines suck. They're either too costly, or too laden with side effects to do any good. Fortunately, there are very easy and very accessible cures and aids to even the most cashstrapped person. While I cannot go into length about every possible cure for every possible ailment, there are some really simple things to help out some common things that hit us all. Pain: Normally, we all experience pain, most frequently in the form of headaches. However, chocolate in its infinite greatness can help anyone alleviate pain. Spicy foods also can help a great deal, as they naturally release endorphins. If you're someone who is prone to frequent headaches, taking a magnesium supplement daily can remove those headaches virtually altogether. Upset stomach: Too much greasy or otherwise unhealthy foods can leave us suffering. But nature has some things that can help us out that are in nearly every kitchen. Bananas are a great boon here, as they can help cut down the overall suffering. Plain toast and rice can also keep the cramping aches subsided as well. Sinuses: Spicy food is the key here, as the chemical that gives it its kick also drains the sinuses. Allergies: Allergies are a little trickier to deal with. Regularly eating honey can help keep them at bay, but is only really effective if you keep at it year round, or eat locally produced honey. Red tea, or Roobios tea, is also helpful for allergies, but frankly tastes awful. With allergies, it's best to treat the individual symptoms. Stress or foul mood: Eating fish regularly can help one function in high stress situations better, but it's not that great a difference. The best herbal treatment for stress or mood is regularly taking a supplement such as St. Johns Wort or 5HTP. These can really help you out in situations such as this. It goes without saying that this isn't a substitute for actual medical care, and if you have a serious problem, bananas and spicy food are no substitutes for a doctor. But, these can help you out of a bind where you may not have access to western medicine, and is a lot healthier since it is natural. For more advanced remedies and cures, you may want to check out the large amounts of reading materials on the subject of herbalism.

Tina Toler-Keel

What comes to your mind when you hear the words “drag queen”? Do you think of fun and entertainment? Do you think of gay men wanting to be women? Do you think of it being weird or a great way to have fun and be creative? Or, do you think all of the above? I’ve always loved watching drag queens perform. I think it is amazing to see a guy turn himself into a glamorous woman, complete with awesome eye make-up, dresses, heels, the whole nine yards. They transform themselves in ways I can’t fathom. I dressed up as a guy for my son’s sixteenth birthday when he had a cross-dressing party, and it was hard to pull that part off, so I can’t imagine what these guys go through to consistently be a woman. A part of me has had preconceived notions about drag queens. I imagined most were gay, most were already “feminine”, and I thought cross-dressing and dressing in drag were the same things. Boy, I was wrong. 44

I had the opportunity this month to talk to a drag queen, Jon, (who uses the stage name Satine Allure) and he certainly shed light on my thoughts. For instance, I learned here is a big difference in crossdressing and drag, although most people use the terms interchangeably. The difference lies in the personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s way of life. Dressing in drag is a career, a hobby, or a way to add theatrical performance to an other wise dull life. The term DRAG actually came from Shakespeare (Who would have ever thought that?). It literally stands for Dressed As a Girl. When I stop and think of it, as far back as the Shakespearean period, men dressed in drag. Some of the more recent ones are John Travolta (Edna in Hairspray), Patrick Swazye (Vida in Satine Allure ready for stage To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar), Tyler Perry (Mabel in Diary of a Madwoman) and many more. From doing research, I just learned that Michael J. Fox, one of my favorites from my youth, played the role of his daughter in Back to the Future. No one seems to think of these actors as weird, or even gay, yet many judge those who get on stage night after night, performing elaborate acts as a woman. On the other side are the ones who are actual cross-dressers. For them, it isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t about performing, having fun, or an act, it is a way of life. It has become a big part of who they are. I am anxious to research this and speak to cross-dressers for an article at a later time because I find it fascinating. Honestly, I think the weirdest part of it is why anyone, male or female, would ever actually choose to wear panty hose. YUCK! I was curious how one gets involved with doing drag and Jon was more than happy to give me answers. When he was six, he attended a drag show his uncle was in for National Aids Alliance and his fascination grew from there. A year before he actually started doing drag, he attended drag shows in Raleigh, N.C. with friends, and gradually got to know the performers. As they talked, Jon discussed his interest, and one of the performers offered to help Jon do his make-up.

From there, he found what is called a “drag mother”, a term I had never heard of. Basically, that is someone who is experienced in drag who becomes a mentor to a newbie. His “mother” Marilyn Merlot taught him the basics of make-up application, making a masculine face look more feminine, and other tips. When asked if he uses a stage voice, he replied, “Some drag queens like to use a fake voice to sound more feminine, but I choose not to. People that you meet already know that you are a boy under it all. Attempting to change your voice is too much work for me.” That makes sense to me. I think it would be confusing to use a different voice, and personally, I know I would get confused and speak in two different voices, which would not be good. So although Jon, aka Satine, portrays a woman, his voice remains his own. I would imagine back stage at a drag show is stressful, yet also a lot of fun. I picture men cracking jokes, laughing a lot, and stressing over where there mascara is and if their face is just right. I envision hysterical mishaps with wigs and costumes, and I envision a great deal of comraderie. To get the inside scoop on what goes on behind the scenes, I did the only thing, other than show up and observe for myself, that I knew to do. I asked Satine. *Whew!!* Backstage? Too much *laughing*. You have everyone crammed into a somewhat tight area, putting on their makeup, joking around, and trying to get costumes together. It is a bit hectic, but never a dull moment! I suppose my views of backstage are fairly appropriate, and I hope this summer when I am able to make a trip to Raleigh and watch Satine perform, she allows me a backstage pass. (I hope she reads this and thinks that is an awesome idea and pulls some strings!) As I mentioned earlier, I think most people view drag queens or cross-dressers as all being gay. Sadly, a majority of folks out there think anything other than being a “manly-man” makes one automatically gay, and I have personally heard many stereotypical comments about gay drag queens. Again, I went straight to the source for the answer to this. Here is a part of our discussion. In your experience, are drag queens generally gay or straight or does that seem to not be an issue? Gay, Straight, Lesbian, Bisexual, people from all walks of life have performed. I know that in Vegas, there is a show made up of straight men that perform every night! There are plenty of bisexual drag queens. But yes, most are gay. So, although most drag queens and cross-dressers are gay, there are many that are not. Let this be a lesson not to judge the guy by the dress he wears.

Jon is, in fact gay. He first realized it when he was thirteen, but because he was raised in a strict Christian home, he did not come out until January of 2010. When his mother found out, she was supportive, but upset that he had not told her earlier. And, she had the main fear us mothers tend to face, the fear of judgment and cruel treatment. Trust me, as a mother that is a huge fear. Since coming out, he has led a normal, healthy life, and is happy. It is hard to say if being gay influenced his decision to be a drag queen. If he was straight, he may have chosen the same path. Drag queens are just like anyone else. They are straight, gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and questioning. They come from every walk of life, and they love to make others happy and entertain. Jon says the best part of being a drag queen and performing live shows is, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Performing on stage in drag is an amazing feeling, watching people dance and sing-along as you entertaining them. If I can leave knowing that I have entertained someone and they had a fun time, I know I must be doing something right onstage.â&#x20AC;? I think that is a great philosophy. If you ever get a chance, I recommend going to see a drag show and judge for yourself. It may end up being the time of your life. As for me, I have not yet had the opportunity to go to a show, but look very forward to doing so. When I do, I guarantee there will be a lot of pictures, giggles, and a very open mind. I will leave you with these wise words from Jon, and hope you leave the judgment behind, and take these words to heart. I hope that everyone, regardless of them doing or liking drag, can eventually make it to attend one show to at least see all of the hard work that goes into every show, and just how much work that we do as performers/entertainers. I also hope that they can find something that brings them the happiness we get from it all.

You can find Satine on FaceBook at www.facebook.com/satine.allure 47

Martin Lawrence

Tyler Perry

John Travolta Robin Williams

Ru Raul Eddie Murphy

Adam Sandler Michael J. Fox Cary Grant 48

It’s Who I Am: Cat Lover Everybody has that one thing that people know them by. For some, it might be the fact that they play World of Warcraft. For others, it might be that they always wear skinny jeans. For me, it is the fact that I love cats. I’ve had my cat, Gracie, for about nine years. She’s been through a lot with me, including my parents’ divorce and several moves. She is, without a doubt, my best friend. I talk to her like she’s another human, I cuddle with her, kiss her on the head, play with her…we did everything together for a while. But it’s not just Gracie. I love all cats. One of my favorite things to do is to sit around, watching cat videos. I have a tracked tag on Tumblr called “cat”, and one called “kitten.” Any time I see a picture of a cat, I squeal a little. My friends even tell me that they think I’m part cat. I’m still not sure if this is meant to be a compliment or an insult, but I’m going to take it as a compliment. If you ask me why I love cats, I’ll probably say something like, “They’re just so cute! How can I not love them?!?!” But really, I think I love them because they’re just beautiful creatures. Cats are known to be intelligent pets, with their own personalities. They’re independent, much like I am. They don’t need to be walked daily. The Egyptians worshipped them for a reason. There are two types of people in the world: cat people and dog people. I’m definitely a cat person. I’m Emily Toler, and it’s who I am.

By Jonathan Stickland

Just like every other young adult my age, I’ve had my fair share of relationships, and every relationship has its ups and downs, back and forths, and in-betweens. Now, I’m not sure about most other people, but I know, for me, there’s that one relationship that I’ll always feel never should’ve ended. I will constantly remind myself of the one girl that I let go of, the one I’ll always want back. Almost 2 years ago, I met the love of my life. It’s a funny story how that happened, but I’ll stray from going off-topic in this article. She and I immediately knew we had strong feelings for one another, and before long fell in love. We spent almost every day together on the couch, watching movies, or taking naps. We were a married couple without the ring. And then came the ring. I proposed to her in December of that year, and we set our wedding date for the following October.

Over the next few months we had many arguments, went through some rough times, both of us having some trust issues. We started a bad habit of breaking up and getting back together every other week. I know many people who have had similar relationships, so I’m sure a lot of people who read this article will be able to relate. However, after being in love and being engaged, the last thing I expected was for us to not be together. After months of the constant back and forth, we decided it would best for both of us if we called everything off, and cut out all the stress that we had caused one another. At the time, I thought that was the best road to take, but after a while I began to question that decision. Almost immediately I started to miss her, think of her, and try to contact her to no success. When October 1st rolled around on my calendar, I really felt the pain that, to this day, I still feel. I’ll always love this girl, and always know, deep in my heart, that we should be happily married right now. I’ve racked my brain trying to figure out just what went wrong between the two of us, and I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. The only option I have at this point is to do what I believe most other people in this situation would do: hope that one day I’ll have the love of my life back, and live the dream I had. However, if that seems too farfetched, it never hurts to hope, and just maybe dreams will come true. Don’t let petty things in relationships cause yourself and the one you love fall apart from one another, because I’ll tell ya, that’s one feeling that you can’t shake.

Am I Wrong? The Inside Scoop on Being Bisexual By Caron Briggs

Am I Wrong?

The term is “LGBT.” It’s supposed to be an alliance between Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, and Transgendered people. Yet despite the appearance of being a cohesive alliance, one group of these is constantly left out and subject to harsh stereotypes. Bisexual, or bi, was once considered the least common and most misunderstood of all three alternative sexualities, and while it has increased in number, it is still very misunderstood. Bisexuality is when an individual likes both males and females in a sexual or romantic way. I consider myself bisexual, and like many of others who choose to sort themselves under this label I am forced to listen to many different stereotypes and hurtful jabs. People who identify as openly bisexual face just as many prejudices as gays or lesbians, and sometimes even more. They are faced with taunts of them being “sluts” or “whores” because they are viewed as too insatiable for only one gender. They are also viewed as “flighty”, “indecisive”, or “commitment phobic” because they often flip flop between the two genders. Bisexuals also face the taunts of some gays or lesbians who claim that they are “Either straight, gay, or lying.” This phrase is used to demonstrate the gays and lesbians who believe that bisexuals are simply people still in the closet from their true sexual orientation. People outside of the gay community, and against it, view the switches of attraction between male and female as “choosing a homosexual lifestyle” or being an “exgay”. So in short, bisexuals often feel like they don’t belong in the straight community, or even the gay community, and are forced to believe that their sexuality must follow a set path. As someone who identifies as bisexual herself, I can testify that these stereotypes are often used when the topic of my sexuality comes up. As I entered sexual maturity, I often found myself liking guys. However, I soon discovered that I liked girls too, and I liked them equally as I did guys. I found myself thinking of guys and girls, and crushing on both. Naturally, as a budding pre-teen/teenager I become very confused as to what I was. I would sit with the girls and chat about what guys we considered cute, or what guys had a sweet personality, but as we did so I found myself staring at the way the girls hair would fall, or how their lip gloss made their lips look. I found that my attention would be split between the

conversations, and staring at the girls who were talking. As I grew older, I thought how I felt about these girls were the typical “girl-crushes” that girls often use to describe a girl they think is pretty, or interesting. This still didn’t fit right with me though, and after a short romantic career of dating guys, I found myself with a girlfriend. Automatically the accusations and questions flew. “Is she a lesbian?” “Why does she keep so close to that other girls?” or even worse, “I bet she is just a freaky slut.” The words and rumors began to flow in an ever coming deluge, even though my relationship with my girlfriend was kept secret due to circumstances out of our control. I couldn’t see why I was being questioned, or why everything had to be a secret, I thought love was love. I still was attracted to guys, but I also very much so loved my girlfriend. I was blind to gender, while to everyone else, that’s all they could see. In attempt to make sense of all the prejudice around me, I soon became friends with local lesbians and gays, closeted and open. For a while it was great to be open with my affection with my girlfriend, and to feel accepted. However, I let my views on a guy slip on day and next thing I knew I was being questioned again. How could I like a guy if I had a girlfriend? Not all of them were so close-minded when I explained how I viewed guys and girls equally, but enough were that I no longer felt like I belonged. My girlfriend felt the same stress, and soon we broke up. It was then that I realized that my feelings towards sexuality weren’t going to change. I still was attracted to both. As of now, I have had three serious boyfriends, 1 serious girlfriend, and have had relations with a handful of other girls. So am I wrong? No. Regardless of what others may try to say about your sexuality, liking both genders does not make you wrong and it is possible. I have managed to have strong, loving commitments with both genders, with them only ending due to normal relationship problems. I am not bisexual simply to turn guys on by letting them watch me make out with a girl, and I am not indecisive or in the closet, I simply fall in love. So if you’re questioning if you’re wrong for being bisexual, or one of the many who believe that bisexuals don’t exist ask yourself: Can you help who you fall in love with?

*bling* My phone’s text alert startles me. I’ve been entranced in a good book for the past few hours and I had forgotten that the world outside of Hogwarts exists. I pick up my phone and read the text. “Hey babe.” It is my boyfriend, Aaron, texting me. He’s probably just woken up, seeing as he likes to sleep in during the day. I type back a quick response – a simple “Hey” – and get back to my book. *bling* Once again, I have forgotten that the world exists and the phone startles me. I check it. “How are you?” I put my phone down, telling myself that I’ll respond to the text in a minute. Before I know it, a minute becomes an hour and I’ve forgotten I have a phone at all. I look at my phone, and I have three unread text messages. They’re all from Aaron. “How are you?” “Are you there?” “Helloooo???” At this point, I’m a little irritated. Aaron should know that I’m notoriously slow at texting back. I reply, “I’m good. Reading Harry Potter and relaxing. How are you?” As I send the text, I don’t even bother picking up the book again. I don’t want to miss any more text messages.

*bling* “I’m good. Why didn’t you answer me??” I frown. I just told him I was reading. Can’t a girl read in peace anymore? “I was reading. Sorry.” *bling* “It’s okay. I just thought you were mad at me.” Um, what? “Why would I be mad at you?” *bling* “I dunno, but you weren’t replying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.” “I’m not mad at you..” *bling* “Oh.” I don’t know what to reply to this text, so I just leave it and decide to start on some homework. My phone starts ringing. I look at it and am relieved to see that it’s my mom calling. I pick up and talk to her for a little bit. When I get off the phone, I have more text messages from Aaron. “Hello?” “Are you sure you’re not mad?” “Baby?” “Emily?” “Who are you with?” I let out a scream of frustration. “I was on the phone with my mom. Jeez.” “Sorry…” “Just stop apologizing. I’m gonna go clean my room. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I don’t bother looking to see if he replied or not. At this point, I’m so fed up, I don’t care if I talk to Aaron for the rest of the week or not. While Aaron’s character is real, the story is completely fictional. He’s never texted me that obsessively before, which is why I keep him around. (That and the fact that he’s a phenomenal boyfriend.) However, I have been in relationships where the above story was very much true. The person I was dating would text me several times a day, every day. The texts would always revolve around the same things: who I was with, what I was doing, and if I was mad at him or not. This drove me absolutely insane. This type of excessive texting usually does not sit well in relationships. If it is you doing the texting, your significant other may feel like you do not trust him or her or cannot stand to be without him or her. If it is your partner that is texting you all the time, you may feel irritated with him or her and get to the point where you feel like you are being followed by him or her. Excessive texting is also a symptom of an abusive relationship.

So, if you feel the need to text your partner all the time inquiring where he or she is or who he or she is with, you may need to take a step back and ask yourself why you need to know where he or she is. You may be feeling jealous of his or her friends or you may be scared to lose him or her. It is normal to want to talk to your boyfriend or girlfriend often, but the line of being friendly and obsessive is easily crossed. If your significant other needs to know where you are and who you are talking to at all times, this is abuse. If it is you who has that need, you are being abusive and must find help. This may not seem like “that big of a deal,” but emotional control is another form of abuse. This abuse may eventually lead to a physical abuse or even sexual abuse. Consider your actions or the actions of your significant other carefully and take steps to get help for any abuse, even if you feel it is minor. Do not allow it to get out of control. Take action NOW. For more information on abusive relationships, especially emotional abuse, there is a great website that will help. It is www.loveisrespect.org. Stay in touch with the one you love, but don’t be controlling. Enjoy one another, but have other friends and activities as well. With work, patience, and self-awareness, you can have a healthy, loving, and fun relationship.

Surviving Rape I love to read, and I have always read a lot. My favorite guilty pleasure has always been sappy, unbelievable love stories; the ones where the girl is kidnapped by the gypsy and soon realizes deep down his intentions were good and they fall in love. Silly, isn’t it? But it takes me away from reality for just awhile. In these books, rape is often a factor. At first, the heroine (who I honestly never saw as a heroine but as a lonely, pitiful person) is afraid, but throughout the book, she gradually loses her fear and falls for her rapist. I think on some level many girls have the fantasy of turning the bad boy into a good one and changing his life. For some unknown reason, we tend to want that power, that satisfaction, and we want to believe the best in everyone. But, reality isn’t like in the books. Rape isn’t something glamorous or sexy. A rapist is not someone with whom we want to fall in love, nor is he or she someone we want to save. Rape is real. It is traumatic. It is horrendous. It leaves emotional and often physical scars behind. And, it happens every day. In fact, by the time you read this, at least one person will have become a victim of sexual assault. According to RAINN (Rape, Abuse, Incest National Network), approximately two thirds of the victims know their attacker. It may be a family member, a friend of the family, a school friend, an acquaintance, or a neighbor. The dangers of stranger rape are real, but the incidents are not nearly as widespread as television shows, media, or the public portrays. This is not to scare you, but to allow you to be prepared and to be able to spot possible signs of future abuse. Below, I have listed a few “warning signs” that something may not be up to par with an adult in your life. Although the signs are geared toward children, the same concept can be applied to young adults as well. This information and much more can be found at www.stopitnow.org Makes others uncomfortable by ignoring boundaries, such as emotional and physical space Refuses to allow another person to set their own boundaries. Teasing, taunting, or belittling language may be used as a control method Tickling, hugging, and physical contact may be present, even when the child or young adult insist the action stops Frequently walks in on child or young adult in bathroom or in private bedroom Speaks to child or young adult about personal issues instead of reaching out to an adult friend Has secret interactions with the child or young adult (playing games, sharing of drugs or alcohol, buying gifts in secret) Allows or encourages inappropriate behavior without consequences Frequently points out sexual image, shares inappropriate jokes, or talks about sex Exposes the child or young adult to sexual content without concern Is overly interested in the child or young adults’ sexual life (Changing body, interactions with a partner, etc.) If you notice these behaviors, avoid any personal contact with the person when possible and do your best to never be alone with the person. Speak to an adult such as a parent, a trusted aunt or uncle, a teacher, guid59

ance counselor, or a pastor at your church. Even if it is completely innocent (and if the signs above are seen, it probably isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t innocent), it is much better to be safe than sorry. As a rape survivor, I know firsthand the guilt that is often felt. But, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT! No matter where you were, what you were wearing, what you had to drink, etc. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT! If you are a survivor, or if you face rape in the future, please keep this in mind. The best way to avoid feelings of guilt is to seek out help as soon as possible. Even if you are unable to contact the police, whether because of fear, shame, or the inability to relive the event, you must seek out professional help. The best choice would, of course, be a therapist who specializes in post-traumatic grief, especially rape, but if that is not an option, there are many websites that offer community involvement. Seek out ones with message boards, chat rooms, etc. where you may share your story and learn from others. Just please do not do as I did and attempt to handle this on your own. You can emotionally and physically overcome the effects of a rape. It will take time, patience, and help from others, but you can control your life instead of allowing your attacker full control. You owe it to yourself to care for you! You are worth the time and effort needed to seek help, accept help, and work through the emotions associate with something as devastating as rape. And, you can come through it stronger than ever. Stay strong, and take care of YOU.

A FEW GREAT LINKS: www.rainn.org www.girlsthrive.com http://www.cherylrainfield.com/linksPage.php?p=love www.nsvrc.org/elearning (Free videos) www.malesurvivor.org (for men who have been sexually abused) www.loveisrespect.org

by Andrew Schmeets

As a teenager, sex is everywhere. Once you hatch from the innocent shell of being a child, you're engulfed in a world where sexuality and being attractive is around every corner. Everywhere you look, there's a half-naked man showing off his abs, a skinny woman in her underwear, and someone making that look ideal. As soon as you start watching TV that isn't Nickelodeon, there's pressure to be sexually attractive, and once you get to high school, it can become a huge deal. As a freshman, there were people having sex all around me. Rumors and gossip revolved around and thrived on sex. It was everywhere, and as with everything, there were lines where if you did this, you were cool, and if you did that, you were an outcast. Most of the time, and in my experience, being gay meant you're an outcast. Now, with that said, I grew up in a small town in the country. Everyone was religious, and there were maybe 2 other gay kids within the population of the high school. Only one of us was open and flamboyant about it. His name was Cole, who became a big part of my life as time went on.

As we all know, bullying is a huge problem. At the high school I attended my freshman year, it happened a lot. Getting shoved into the wall, getting called names, or getting things thrown at you in class was not unusual. I had it pretty good, as I hid behind the door of the closet, so to speak. But others didn't. People got harassed, people cried, and occasionally, people would get hurt. Security was pretty tight, so it didn't happen often, but I've heard of people getting beaten up pretty badly simply because they stood up to that person who'd been shoving them into the wall all year. If I were to have come out and said that I was gay, I'm relatively sure I would've gotten a black eye and fat lip at least a couple times. So what if you're gay? People don't accept you, whatever. Your friends may or may not support you; that can hurt. But oftentimes, the most painful thing for a gay teenager is his or her relationship with his or her parents. My mom, stepdad, and dad are all very supportive of me, and I'm so fortunate to have such a loving and supporting home life. But some people don't have it off quite so well. A couple weeks ago, I started talking to a guy named Ari from Boston. Matthew Lush did a YouTube series/competition called My Gay Online Boyfriend (which I started watching religiously), and Ari was a contestant. I followed him on Twitter, and was happily surprised at the fact the he replied to me every time I tweeted him. We started talking more and more, and soon enough, he became a good friend of mine. He's an amazing person, and proudly gay. I talked to him about 61

what his experience was in high school, and coming out to his parents, and I found that he had a much harder time than I did. "I didn't have a chance for a proper coming out story. I had it rough. My mom found my journal where I wrote on one page in the middle "I am Gay and I am Proud." I was later beat by her and my father and the next day I was enrolled into a "gay is wrong" program through my church. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s different for me coming from a religious Greek Orthodox family. The pressure to be *normal* as they put it and not gay is extreme." The most terrible, and stomach-turning fact about this is that it's not uncommon. Kids go through this every single day. When he sent me that, it was hard for me to read. The fact that parents can treat their own kids like that for any reason is horrible. I feel like sometimes, the world is so caught up in controlThis is NOT a real journal entry! ling other people that we overlook the abhorrent things we do. I don't understand how people can look at a gay person, and say, "You are wrong. As a human, you will be treated differently because your love is unacceptable." But there is hope. For those people who are mistreated growing up by their parents or peers, it does get better. For anyone, gay, straight, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, man, woman, transsexual, polysexual, pansexual, whatever-sexual, who were put down, harassed, bullied, or exiled, it does get better. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. To conclude all this, I love you. I don't care who you are, I love you. You're an amazing human being, and I don't care who doesn't accept you, you are a person, and you matter. "BE YOU AND NEVER COMPROMISE FOR ANYONE! If they can't love you and accept you for who you are than they are not worth your time. Love yourself and you will always be happy." - Ari Gerakas

Red Pill, Blue Pill

Choosing the Right Medication 63

Red Pill, Blue Pill

very two months or so, I dread my visits to the doctor. Not only because of the fact that they have quite possibly the slowest admittance and treatment process in the nation, but because I know that the next few weeks of my life will be uneasy, and knock me on my ass at times. I take medication, a combination anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medicine that allows me to function relatively normally. My doctor, despite my insistence otherwise, likes giving me a new and different prescription every time I visit him. This has made me all too familiar with medications, all the general information, all the procedures for getting on them, all the procedures for getting off them. For those of you who might be considering getting medication to help whatever problems you may have, it's great to do, but first, you've got to play a difficult game. The first issue you'll have to deal with is actually being prescribed a medication. Thanks to quite a bit of fraud and other legal issues over the years, most doctors won't prescribe medication without a therapist's written recommendation. You could kill two birds with one stone and visit a psychiatrist, but that's not the best idea. Psychiatrists more often than not just want to get you on a medication, and your problem could be something else entirely. Visit a psychologist or licensed therapist and go through a few sessions, work out what you need to, before getting your recommendation. The next issue you might encounter is that of cost. To put it lightly, this stuff isn't cheap. One of the benefits of health insurance is that it does help with the cost significantly; however, it can still get pricey. With insurance, most medications will run you anywhere from $20-40. Some medications do come in a generic form, but not all of them, and that is something you'll have to prepare for. Next, is the actual effects of the medication. We all have seen something on television or some other place where a person on his or her meds is this dead, hollow shell of a human being. That is a gross exaggeration, and not what you're going for in the least. What you want is something that simply allows you to be yourself, something that evens your problem out, and allows you to live your life. Let me say now: odds are, you're not going to get this on your first try. Psychological medications are tricky, and different people have different needs. Each mediation also comes with its own side effects, ranging from headaches to some admittedly bizarre ones (one of the side effects of my current medication is unusually grand ideas). Some can actually make your symptoms worse, and make you do drastic things. This is what you have to watch out for, and if you notice this happening, you must quit taking the medication immediately. You may have to try several different medications before you find the one that's right for you. This leads into the next issue: how it works. Each medication functions in a different way, but medications in general all function the same. Unlike medicines like aspirin, you don't take the pill and feel the effects after about twenty minutes or so. Medication is something you have to build up in your system, and it can be anywhere between 2-6 weeks before you'll feel anything. Your system works with it, and you need to keep the supply constant. What happens if you don't? Well, it won't work as well. Now, above we see how it works, and that you may need to change your medications every now and then. This next part is crucial, and I wish someone would have told me this when I was starting out: what to do if you need to quit or change your medication. The most important thing is to slowly wean yourself off the meds. Start taking it every other day, then every three days, and con64

tinue until you're off it altogether. Never simply stop taking medication. If you do, you'll go through a fun little condition called withdrawal, which can make you physically ill, mentally strange, and emotionally volatile (during my first tangle with withdrawal, I stayed in my room all day, felt ill, spoke in incoherent gibberish, and cried for an hour straight when I looked in my refrigerator and saw I was out of Dr. Pepper). If you have to change your medication to something else, you need to wait about two weeks before you start taking your new medication, otherwise you'll experience a good majority of the symptoms listed on the â&#x20AC;&#x153;possible side effects sheet.â&#x20AC;? I still don't enjoy my visits to the doctor, because he's never happy with keeping me on one medication. But, from what I've told you here, that doesn't mean you should fear medication, and you can take that step to living without that pain that torments you. Take my wisdom here, take all the precautions and steps necessary, and just to be safe, keep stocked up on Dr. Pepper.

~Jared Talbert

Jared Talbert is a writer of all sorts. He grew up having a very rough childhood. As a result of that upbringing, he has suffered through years of depression, trauma, and anxiety. He has faced many hardships in his life, but always manages to come through stronger. He once viewed himself as useless, but is now realizing his full value and potential. His hope is that by using his experiences and wisdom, he can help others realize the value in their selves as well.

Coffee with Frank

Short Story by Tina Toler-Keel Continued from March edition 66

“Litman, you’re late. Get your butt out on the field NOW!” Coach Howard screamed to him. Frank hauled tail, running for the field. It was the first time in three years of middle school and three and half years of high school football that he was late, yet the coach was treating him like it happened all the time. Frank thought briefly about talking to Coach Howard, but from the penetrating glare he received, he knew, even if Coach was a trusted friend, he would never understand this. The guys usually practiced hard, knocking into one another, proving each was stronger than anyone else on the field, but Frank thought it felt different today. Instead of each being out for his self, every other guy on the team seemed to be against Frank. He shook off a massive blow, stood up slowly, and convinced himself he was just being paranoid. He was the quarterback on the team and he was not only well-liked, but he was the most respected player. No one would ever risk injuring him, not only because he was so well-liked, but because without him, they didn’t stand a chance against the Devils at this weekend’s game. Walking back to the showers, his body ached from the brutal beating he received on the field. Every inch of him hurt. All he wanted was to shower, dress, and go meet Sara at Mona’s. Right now a hot cup of strong, black coffee and a real friend was just what he needed. Although they hadn’t interacted in years, unless you count the times he stood in the crowd laughing as one of his friend’s teased and taunted her, he knew in his heart she was the only one he could turn to, the only one he could trust, the only one he wanted to see. As he rinsed shampoo out of his eyes, he heard his best friend, Bo, say something. He drug his head out from under the pouring water, dried his eyes, and wrapped a towel around his waist. He couldn’t remember when he started wrapping up immediately out of the shower instead of running around naked like the other guys, but it was something he always did. “Hey, Bo. I couldn’t hear ya. What’s up?” “Man, I just said you must be hard up after your break up with Gloria if you are talking to that god-awful, nasty Sarah chick.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He could feel himself boiling with anger. Not only was Bo judging Sarah, but he was judging Frank too. “Oooh, you’re getting all defensive with your new girlfriend. I guess we all have to take a ride on the scum train from time to time. Man, if that’s your thing, who am I to say anything. Just be careful. God only knows what that slut is carrying.” “Damn, Bo. I don’t know where you come up with these ideas, but I barely talked to her. I ran into her in the hall, knocked her books and papers out of her hand, and was just being a gentleman and helping her pick them up. Nothing else is going on.” Bo shook his head and grinned. 67

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Frank. I hit up with her friend, Miranda, last summer at the lake. Sometimes a guy has to lower his standard when those kick-ass hormones act up and the good ones aren’t around. Just remember what I said. Be extra careful. Don’t want you going around giving the cheerleaders herpes because you couldn’t control Little Frank.” “I said, nothing is going on. I’ll probably never speak to her again. I was just being a good guy, something you should try more often.” Frank pushed past Bo, knocking him to the side, and walked to his locker. Bo had overstepped the boundaries of friendship, and they both knew it. “Don’t be so insensitive,” Bo told him as he slammed Frank’s locker shut. “Don’t be a jackass.” Walking out of the locker room, Frank turned away from Bo and left him standing there. *** At eight thirty, one and a half hours after she was supposed to meet Frank, Sarah sat silently at a table in the corner, sipping the last drop of her mocha coffee. She checked her cell for the one hundredth time, hoping he had sent her an explanation, but the only message she received was one from her mom asking her to bring home a loaf of bread. She hesitantly stood up, glanced around one last time with crushed hopes, walked over to the trash can, and threw her cup away, knowing she had once again been played the fool.

To Be Continued

Steven is a 16-year-old sophomore from Irvine, Kentucky. He is in his school’s GayStraight Alliance, and loves to make people feel happy. He has over 25 thousand followers on his personal Twitter and runs four major Twitter accounts, including the inspirational cr0sstheline account. All four of his Twitter accounts have either over or around 100 thousand followers; you could say that he’s got a pretty impressive Twitter footprint. Twitter isn’t the only major thing about Steven, however. Like many teenagers, he really enjoys late night walks, picnics, loud music, Tumblr, concerts, cardigans, coffee, and tea. He likes to go on long drives, go to concerts, eat, sleep, cuddle, blog, tweet, and protest. His goal in life is to change the world. He eats a lot of Pop Tarts and strongly dislikes tomatoes. Steven mostly listens to pop punk music; however, lately he’s found an addiction to Ron Pope’s music. Some of his favorite bands include: A Rocket to the Moon, Mayday Parade, All Time Low, Every Avenue, Plug in Stereo, The Scene Aesthetic, Sleeping with Sirens, Lydia, He is We, You me at Six, and Man Overboard. He also loves Taylor Swift; he even has a piece of her hair (I’m sure there’s a good story behind this but I was afraid to ask). Steven says his favorite person in the world is his niece. He absolutely loves his best friend Bonnie, and concerts are his favorite place to be. He stands up against animal cruelty and bullying, and loves people who are determined to make a difference. He can’t wait to graduate high school and go to college; he hopes to study in New York City. You can find and contact Steven at the following links: www.twitter.com/StevenUndefined www.y0urebeautiful.tumblr.com www.facebook.com/SassyIsTrashy His four other Twitter accounts he runs are: www.twitter.com/SincerelyTumblr www.twitter.com/RetweetIfs www.twitter.com/cr0sstheline www.twitter.com/LegitBucketList

Motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Day 2012

As we change our publication date around a little, we have decided to do something fun and exciting for May’s edition. Instead of our normal serious issues, we are doing a purely fun edition (one of the few we will ever do). Our focus will be Mother’s Day. We need your help! We are looking for short paragraphs, long paragraphs, short articles, long articles, whatever you need to do, about how awesome your mother is. This is your chance to brag and let your mom know how much you appreciate her. I know some of you have not had a mother in your life, but you can still contribute. It doesn’t have to be your mother. You can write about a favorite aunt, cousin, grandmother, friend’s mom, whoever. Anyone who has taken on a mother roll in your life should be honored. And, I’ll even go a step further. If you want to honor your mother and your grandmother(s), you may write two articles! This is about giving the gift of appreciation, and trust me, us moms love to hear how great we are, especially when it’s shared with others. One girl wrote and asked if she could do an article on what it is like being a young mother. My answer: of course! We welcome all positive contributions about motherhood! Email me at editor@itswhoiam.org with your contribution. You may attach it as a word file or put it in the body of the email. Please also send us a picture if possible. It can be of your mother alone, but we prefer one with the two of you. Eric and I look forward to seeing your mother’s and hearing all about them. Now get offline and go write.

PHOTOGRAPHS Cody Combs

52, 57, 61, 66, 68

Emily Toler

12, 16, 25, 49, 70

Eric Toler

Jessica Toler

Tina Toler-Keel

13, 22, 23, 28, 32, 35, 37 39, 40, 42, 48, 50, 51, 58 62. 63. 65