LIFE, THE ULTIMATE DIY PROJECT

Life is a group project and unfortunately, only some of us did the work.

Life is a group project and unfortunately, only some of us did the work.

The Do It Yourself mentality is great where it doesn’t further incentivize hyper independence. 

A few months ago, I made a Facebook post to my local HOA page where I asked for help installing a wired Ring camera. All of my responses were “It’s so easy to DIY! Just Youtube it or look it up on TikTok!” Every. Single. Response.

In a post where I’m asking for help, people are telling me to do it myself. 

Yes, great, hadn’t thought of that. 

It would definitely be better to assume I already haven’t spent 3-5 hours combing through Youtube tutorials or TikTok videos that describe my exacting and unique situation. Let me further try to understand how, rather than have someone who has either done it themselves before come and teach me the skill, it’s better I do it myself. Or rather than someone with a handyman business offer their services. Let me put aside research time, make sure it’s not a bad hand tremor day or that my body can tolerate whatever weather may be outside, and let’s invest in about $50-$100 on tools we could borrow from someone but now have to buy, even though we only need them once. Let’s put the onus of skill, investment, physical and mental ability on each individual.  Yeah, makes sense. 

Don’t get me wrong. The DIY mentality has its place. We shouldn’t be fully dependent on outsourcing skills, and should have the ability to learn and invest in skills that allow us a sliver of independence. Growing our own food, up cycling clothes/ furniture and existing appliances to decrease unnecessary waste and repurchasing. Hanging shelving, interior design, routine car maintenance, routine home maintenance, on and on. 

This mentality is an asset, as mentioned, but only where it doesn’t incentivize further hyper independence. 

You should be able to ask for help when tasks are beyond your capabilities. We should be teaching skills we hold and sharing them with our community rather than driving the onus to anyone but ourselves. But this is not the norm. 

Obviously, this mentality isn’t strictly to home projects either. Ways I’ve encountered this over the past 5 years:

1) “Can I have help moving?” -hire someone

2) “Can I have a ride to the airport?” - take a $90 uber

3) “Hey, we’re going to the same event, can we meet up somewhere to carpool?” - I don’t have time to make a stop

4) “Hey you know about cars can you teach me how to do XYZ?” - any mechanic should be able to help you

5) “I’m housebound and Instacart doesn’t service my area yet, can anyone pick me up some diabetic cough medication?”  - lots of views, but no response

Radical change requires we are radically honest with ourselves first.

The irony of the response to the current political climate is not lost on me.  The following screenshots are a preview of what THOUSANDS of people flooded my feeds across all platforms on November 6th. 

Speaking as a community driven individual there are a ton of routes this core issue travel towards.

Firstly, I want to speak from the scope of a disabled woman as there has never been a more paradoxical scenario in my life, then seeing thousands claim the importance of community work while leaving behind millions of people in what they consider to be a “post” pandemic society.

The COVID-19 Pandemic was not the sole downfall of Community oriented life.

We blame “pandemic isolation” for the disconnection we have with each other now. Thus placing the responsibility off the individual and onto some large scale massive (still ongoing) event so we don’t have to feel the burden of personal responsibility five years later. 

How can we collectively advocate the importance of rallying behind one another with community outreach when we cannot even maintain the integrity of our own?

Listen, we are a society of people who leave behind friends when we gain romantic partners and children. We consistently strive for the convenience in every facet of life. 

“The 30 year run family owned shop I can walk to, has donuts, but Dunkin is on Doordash, so I’ll order from there.”

“Sorry our relationship isn’t sustainable because you live an hour away. I don’t want a long distance relationship.”

"Eh, I caught the ick, and instead of communicating and working through the issue if possible, I know I can ghost you and swipe right until I find someone better."

No one is putting the EFFORT into life anymore. You don't give up something great at the first sign of hardship.

A loss of community, is a loss of life.

To understand the death of community, we have to understand our part.

I grew up in a neighborhood full of kids. We literally grew up together. The merry little bandits that we were, went to elementary, middle, and high school together. We rode bikes, played in storm drains, shared first kisses, and dares.  We went to bowling alleys, roller rinks, movies and malls. Summers were filled with poolside treats and sleepovers. We shared a collective nervousness over first school dances, first cars, first relationships. We shared heartbreaks, and joys.  Till one day we shared nothing. All we had in common was that we….. didn't talk anymore.

It wasn't our innocence we lost. It was each other. 

Yes, the rise of texting and social media did contribute, but it wasn't the sole factor. 

Growing up somehow became synonymous with growing apart.

Looking at younger me, I was definitely a stage five clinger. Back then it wasn't easy for me to walk away from others. I wanted to repair things if they needed to. I longed for people to grow with, not just apart from. We were all being pulled in a million different directions, but my love for my friends and the bond we had, never died. I tried to keep up the best I could. Joining clubs my friends were in even if I had no interest in them myself. Going to school activities even though I was bored silly at sporting events and dances. Always arranging movie nights at the local mall where we'd spend hours afterwards walking the shops or sitting and chatting about anything and everything. Volunteering heavily with my church so frequently it became a second home. Despite everything I was dealing with personally, I was always checking in and somehow always making time for everyone. I look back now and am marveled by myself, my actions, and my effort.

There came a point though, somewhere in my senior year of high school, where I realized I couldn't be the only one making the effort. Walking away wasn't something I had ever done, and too foreign a concept to understand it also held necessity. 

I held a loose grip on my church friends and let everything else fall away.

I graduated in the summer of 2011, and while I may not remember things said or thought that day, or why I had the worlds worst bangs, but I'll always remember how it felt to step out of that auditorium and know for the first time, I was venturing into the next phase completely alone.

Graduating was my first experience with death of community.

My first year of college was puzzling. In high school the "College is Scary" narrative is shoved down your throat so much it becomes laughable. Teachers and education politics use tactics to set us straight. Conversations of "this attitude and behavior won't fly with your professors.” “If you ever turn a paper in late, they will fail you.” Or, “Chronic absenteeism will get you kicked out of school."  

Mmmm yeah, okay. Proved wrong day one into college.

I found my classes to be largely unchallenging. Expectations and policies far more manageable. Bias and injustice, while still prevalent, far less common in the student experience. No one was pushing me to be or do better than myself, which was a long awaited change.

Though forging a new path and discovering yourself in college didn't carry a weightless joy for me, and it wasn't the "freshman fifteen" I had to be worried about. It was the Freshmen Identity Crisis. Educational boredom only fed my depression. It was obviously more difficult to build a community in college, and I was slowly sliding into isolation and slowly pulling away from things (i.e: hobbies, volunteer work, and church) as I began to question who I was, my path, and what I wanted. 

Life seemingly came to a crescendo when my grandfather died in the fall of 2012, the start of my second year into college. Here I am at the mere age of 19 years, grieving the loss of my third grandparent. This passage of time isn't measured by the expected loss being so heavy to carry, but to the reality of its aftermath.

Three days after receiving this news, I awoke in the middle of the night to two of my “best friends” banging on my front door and bombarding me with calls and texts. They refused to leave until I let them inside. Weird, okay, let’s let them inside. 

Turns out they were "concerned", they just wanted to "talk." Nah, they actually forced an intervention on me for my depression. According to them, it was a “waste of the life God had given me to act the way I had been. It was sinful and shameful, and I wasn’t setting the best example for the youth group I was leading.” 

THREE DAYS AFTER NEWS OF A FAMILY DEATH, I am living in “sin” by being depressed. Yeahhhh, okay.

Mind you, as mentioned, this was the last of community I was clinging too. Albeit with a loose grip, but still clinging to nonetheless. Yet here that community was in my time of need. Not offering help, not sitting with me silently, but condemning me.

I had to say anything to protect myself from them, so I lied like my life depended on it, and it did. I promised to get my act together, and return to the church. Eventually they relented enough from their intentions and left my house.

Opening the door that night, wasn't the worst decision I'd made at the time, but it was one of the more pivotal moments in my life. The first time I saw the worst of humanity was that night, and the second death of community.

I spent another year playing pretend for them, but sometime in 2013 I left the church. I grew up in the church. I was a part of an acting team that taught children their bible lessons via theater. I was in youth group, I was a leader for a small middle school group of girls, I volunteered for all retreats and all events. This didn’t feel like choosing to walk away from a community. This was forced and leaving was a necessity for my health. I left behind my faith, and people I considered family. It broke something fundamental in me. To this day I struggle with my faith.

It wasn’t until 2016 when I started to find myself again. I built a beautiful group of friends around cosplay and volunteer work. Some of the most beautiful memories, and deepest progression of personal growth was with this community. I hosted Friendsgivings, arranged holiday events, monthly meet ups, even vacations. I truly felt I had found my tribe. I was content. 

For awhile.

In 2020, I decided to take a break from cosplaying. It’s a long story, but the brunt of it is that I had become so wound up in the competitive side of a hobby I loved, that I had tunnel vision and knew I needed to step away. In no way did I think burning out of my hobby would mean I would lose most of my community I had built up for four years.. I guess I quickly woke up to the fact that most of those friendships were held together with proximity alone. We shared a hobby and bi monthly conventions and nothing more. A lot of it held by proximity too, and now that I was moving 30 minutes East, somehow strained them further. How unfortunate, I had no idea how I got it so wrong.

There were a lot of important moments, experiences and growth that happened between then and February of 2023, but let’s fast forward a bit. 

2023 was the year I got an apartment! I’d had this long held belief that once I got out on my own, that’s when life started. Add to the fact that if I was moving back into the city where I was living in 2020, maybe I could reconnect with my friends too! Yeehaw, life was about to get started ya’ll!

Reality has never humbled me so fast. What I felt was supposed to be the start of a new life, was one I spent in near isolation. The reality is, even if you remove the barrier, you still get excuses with the wrong people. 

At the time, it wasn’t something I could wrap my head around. 

Proximity was what supposedly broke everything, and even when I close the gap, nothing changed.

I didn’t stop seeing my friends, my friends stopped seeing me. I mean, WHAT WAS IT?! There was no natural dissolution to a friendship, one side just stopped trying. Why they stopped trying, I’ll never know. And even if the story ended the same, having a conversation about it would have made moving forward a lot easier.

You know that scene in Twilight where Bella is sitting on a chair, staring out a window and the seasons change and time passes. That’s how 2023 felt.

I sat alone in the tower of my third floor apartment and the world kept turning.

My phone hardly alerted to anything. I stopped begging people to breadcrumb me with conversations that held no real depth. I continued trauma therapy and got sober. I distanced myself from social media, I was working 40 extra hours a month just to fill some of the void. From the moment I woke up till my head hit the pillow at night, I never spoke a word aloud. It was hard at first, but I used this time and learned to be okay alone. TRULY alone. I found it more rewarding of my energy to be alone than surrounded with people and things that do not align with me.

Hitting the basement below rock bottom wasn’t the difficult part. It was realizing, My worst fear happened. No one noticed my downfall. 

This isolation was highly unusual behavior for me, and if anyone noticed, no one said anything.

The seasons changed, and before I knew it, it was eleven months later.

I abandoned my moldy, crusty dusty apartment and moved back home in January 2024. I spent several of the following months with “Failure” brandished across my heart. Despite it’s sting, I somehow managed to trudge forward. The silence stayed but it sounds different in East Texas. For awhile I dug into the hum of monotony. I got up from the chair by the window where I had the option to hunker down and keep watching the seasons change. Instead I got up and close the blinds. My strides measured in moments rather than large plans. I renovated my spaces in the house. I spent a ton of time in tattoo shops, gathered new hair styles, became obsessed with press on nails, volunteered at a convention again, attended more concerts than I can count, travelled to visit family and some famous Georgia filming locations, I received the best performance review I ever have in my career, and I launched my business. 

Despite what I just said, and despite the pictures I’m sure you’ve seen, as well as the assumptions you’ve made on the parasocial relationship you believe the two of us hold. How many of you knew that sometime in September I planned on ending my life.

Some of you will say you had no idea. All the signs were there, though. 

This isn’t because of trauma I didn’t heal from. This isn’t because depression is so deep I am stuck in despair, or because I cannot see my worth. If anything, it’s that I now DO know my worth. I am now the healthier and confident person I have always wanted to be. I am always existing with a hand outstretched. Constantly searching for something concrete, for others like myself. I became the linchpin of my communities who eventually became too tired to pour from an empty cup to grow the garden. I have learned to never expect my heart from other people. Learned that I will never find my mirror. But shit, can I not expect at least 25%? Why is it not the norm to give a shit like I do?

I put in the work. Decades of therapy, medication, I got sober. I built a life for myself, I support myself, I surround myself with art, and things to do that I enjoy and still.. it’s not enough.

Repeated loss of community drove me to this. Being alone drove me to this. We are not meant to be alone. Life doesn’t have to be like this.

The truth is, I know I can hold space for two things to be true in my world. I know I have people who care about me. I know I have beautiful online friends all around the world. I also know that regardless of their shine, online relationships can only get me so far. I know I have people near who love me too, but aren’t capable of giving me the love I need. And it’s okay for both things to coexist. It’s okay if I have felt let down by the people closest to me, and it’s okay if at the end it’s still not enough for me. I still love them, they still love me, my needs just aren’t being met.

I know I am not faultless. I am sure someone reading this feels I have let them down. Why did I retreat and not explain why? Why didn’t I tell them what was going on? I’m sure there are people I let down on my way to healing. And if anyone reading this truly feels that way, reflect on why we haven’t discussed it. Then let’s open the door to discuss.

Because here I am now, unsure of how one continues on after making a plan like that, much less foiling that plan.

Each morning is a fight to wake up knowing nothing lay in front of me. Many an evening a lullaby wept to myself, “even if it’s just you, you’ll be okay.” Each day a decision. Never concretely knowing if I’m making the right one, or just prolonging the inevitable. 

I know I have One Life, One Decision, and I will always strive to make the decision that ends with me still living. I have this tattooed on my hand as a constant reminder that I am here figuring out what it means to start over at 32. Figuring out where my efforts will go to rebuild, and everything that comes with starting over means.

There’s far too much and lightyears outdated stigma in talking about suicide and more so on attempts. But I killed my shame instead of myself. This is written without shame and tightroped hope, but I write it all the same. When it comes to telling a story so common to the every day experience, I share this with a glimmer that it adds to the catalyst needed for us to move forward.

So What Can We Do?

As we stare down the barrel of 2025 and all the uncertainty it holds....

I need everyone to keep in mind that there is no way for us forward if we can’t diagnose the problem in our own homes and our own selves first. Radical change requires radical honesty and it’s time a lot of us start stepping up and taking accountability for the ways that we can and need to change. This will vastly effect everyone and everything around us in a way that is desperately needed.

Truth be told, I am worried we don’t have what it takes. I fear that in my life time I may never see the unity I desire. But even if it’s only the smallest of sparks, I won’t let fear keep me from playing the game and I implore all of you to do the same. Big dreams are built from small tasks. So start small.

Take your friends to the airport. I know ya’ll drive 30 minutes for a good meal, so you can drive an hour to your friend when they need you. Some of you know mechanical skills for routine car maintenance, teach them to your children, family and friends so they can take care of their own cars. Some of you can sew so teach a neighbor. If you have a generator in an ice storm, teach your 70 year old neighbor what that means and help them with theirs. Take care of the person who always arranges movie nights, holiday events, and hangouts, sometimes they want others to think of them too. Do something for your friends who are struggling. Most of us do not want to drone on about the struggle, we just want you to SHOW UP. Friends who are housebound, still coviding don’t want you to “live in fear forever,” We just want you to consider us. Take a test, wear a mask, order takeout, it’s simple. Stop sending TikToks, stop sending only likes and reactions, stop the meaningless check ins and texting each other on holidays when you haven't talked to them all year, and have a CONVERSATION. 

Reaching out to, and keeping up with our people needs to go back to being an organic process. Before we relied on social media to give us those meaningless details. Glimpses into people‘s lives that no photo of a vacation, no little status update, or out of pocket twitter rant, could ever really give us an idea of what’s actually going on in their lives. SO TALK TO PEOPLE. Don’t just reach out, show the fuck up, and please grow out of your convenience mindset. I am begging you. Life is effort driven.

You are responsible of your portion of the group project, stop failing.

This is beyond politics. 

It’s not about you and it’s not about me. 

Here’s to we. 

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."