I made  a bad joke on twitter a couple weeks ago, which honestly is like 75% of what I do on twitter, about how “crutching to class” sounds like it could be the name of a really cool indie rock album but it’s actually just my sad life story. I’ve been on crutches for about a month and a half now, and well… it was old about a month and a half ago. Crutches are hard. They hurt your hands, and hurt your arms, and hurt your back, and make you sore- all in addition to whatever is the reason you’re on crutches.

Before I started at a new school this year my friends made a bunch of jokes about how the crutches would be a conversation starter and help me to make some friends. Not so much. I mean, people are nice and hold open doors, which is very kind, but I never seem to be able to start an actual conversation.

I have had some very strange yet heartening moments of solidarity with the three other kids on campus on crutches when we pass by each other.  A head nod and “I feel you” goes a long way.

New schools are hard. Crutches are hard. New schools on crutches are REALLY hard. By the end of the day, just from walking to and from academic buildings I’m so tired that all I want to do is curl up in a ball and ignore everything forever. Which as you can imagine, isn't

I’m struggling really badly at Salisbury, which is a hard thing for me to admit, both to myself and to anyone else. I keep telling myself it will get better, but it’s been almost a month and I don’t think I could say that I have a single friend on this campus. And that’s rough. Really rough. And I don’t know what to do to fix it.

I haven’t posted a blog update in a while, mostly because I don’t know what to say. I’ve got no stories, no adventures to share. All I really do is go to class, watch Netflix, and sit curled up in a corner of my bed reading. Not exactly page turning excitement. And it’s not just that it isn’t exciting—it’s embarrassing. I don’t want to be that kid that can’t handle this, but I am, and I can’t.

I don’t know where to go from here. I’m going to keep trying, but I feel like nothings changing. I’ll smile and I’ll try to strike up conversations in class, but mostly it just makes me feel more alone.

I miss Hiram. I miss my friends. I miss having people who were there when I had a bad day. I miss feeling like I was at a place where I belonged, and where people were happy I was there.

Things are rough right now. But maybe, hopefully, they will get better. 

I bake when I’m stressed. There is something soothing about an act that seems almost second nature and allows me to focus on something other than my thoughts. I can angrily kneed, or haphazardly mix, or roll balls of dough while thinking about anything but the specific thing I don’t want to be thinking about.

I made banana bread tonight. My roommates are happy, I’ll have breakfast for a few days, and most importantly I got to focus my energy a little bit. I tend to get caught up in my own head. I overthink and overanalyze and overreact and over everything.  

Sometimes it’s helpful to channel all that…everything in to something a little more productive. After all, so much of my stress is caused by feeling like I’m not sure what to do. Taking that anxiety and channeling it in to something productive is so cathartic.

Last year, during a rather rough period of time, a friend and I baked the world’s largest batch of banana bread. Pans and pans and pans, more than anyone could ever eat. So we shared. We took all the fears and anxieties and pent up aggression and used it to create deliciousness that everyone could enjoy.

That’s all I want really. To take all the things I feel and somehow turn them in to things that other people can enjoy. I try to do it with words. I try to do it with pictures. Sometimes I try to do it with banana bread.

My apartment smells delicious. 

My synagogue holds it’s High Holy day services in a church. It seems strange, but it makes sense. Our congregation isn't that large, and it would be silly to build a larger sanctuary just to house the influx of people we get for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It’s a nice arrangement. We get a nice place to pray for the high holy days, and a good relationship with a kind church in the area.

The thing about churches, though, is that many of them have crucifixes. The church that we spend our High Holy day services at definitely does. So what out congregation does is cover that crucifix with a large…white…box thing? I'm not quite sure what to call the contraption that we use. It’s kind of like a curtain, but It covers the front and both the sides. It is very very large, and very very white.

I understand why we have the giant Jesus box, obviously, but it always rubs me as a little bit strange. The real problem though, is once we put this giant box in the very front of the congregation, all I can think about is the Jesus behind the box. I know it’s an important holiday, and I know I’m supposed to be focusing and praying and being part of the community. But all I can think about is the box with the giant Jesus.

In trying so hard to hide the Jesus, it became my focus. All I could think about was how it was hidden.

I try to hide a lot of things in my everyday life.  I hide my interests, in case people find them weird. I hide my opinions, in case they are too controversial. I hide my feelings, and my ideas, and a million other things all the time. I spend so much time and energy hiding, sometimes it feels like all I focus on is trying not to let my perceived flaws show. I spend so much time focusing on the hiding, that I've barely got any left to take in everything that’s happening around me.

I think, maybe, sometimes I’ve got to let my flaws fly. I need to focus a little bit less on the curtain, and more about what’s happening on the stage. It can be scary to let yourself be you- it can be intimidating to open yourself up to others, but it can be worth it.

I’m of course, not saying that the box hiding the Jesus isn't necessary. As weird as it is to hold a service with a giant white box in front of the congregation, it would be way weirder to hold services with a giant crucifix overlooking us all. That would be uncomfortable for everyone.

I’m not saying that some things aren't hidden for a reason, or that nothing should be hidden. I’m just saying sometimes it’s ok to let the flaws fly, and focus a little bit less on the box that hides the Jesus. 

None of my good friends live anywhere near me. Which stinks. Like a lot. Which is (one of the infinite number of) reasons why I’m lucky to live in the 21^st century.

I’m pretty sure that skype is the only reason that a good 50% of my relationships are still functioning. Being able to see someone’s face and hear someone’s voice isn't the same as being able to hug them and be with them physically, but it sure is close.

A few days ago I spent a ridiculous amount of time sitting on skype with a bunch of my friends back at Hiram. They pulled up a skype window, and sat down in the floor lounge, and I got to talk to all of them at once. I might not have been there physically, but I got to talk and laugh and see them, and it made my week so much brighter. 

Way back when I lived in Israel for a semester during my junior year of high school, I was able to skype with my family to help combat some of the homesickness. I could show them around my room, halfway around the world, and they could show me my very confused dog who didn’t understand why she was having a laptop shoved in her face. 

I can’t even count the number of times it’s been 3 am and I’m working on a paper and my brother has skyped me while sitting in his room putting off his homework and playing video games. Or my best friend has skyped me when he was studying in London, forgetting about the time difference, a little tipsy, and eager to tell me about his fun adventures. Or my grandmother, attempting to learn how to work her webcam has skyped me to tell me about all the things she is working on. Or my teacher, who very kindly offered to teach me over skype when I had to fly home for my grandfather’s funeral and miss a week of class. Or the catch ups with friends, or the meetings, or the million other examples I could think of.

Skype connects me to the people I care about. And I care about a lot of different people, in a whole lot of different places. 

I keep finding myself caught up on the path of expectations. Expectations of how to act, and what to say, and what to study, and how I’m supposed to live my life. Expectations that are the proven path, maybe, but not necessarily the path that makes the most sense for me.

I’m struggling to make decisions that make sense to me, not decisions that appear to make sense to people who don’t really know my life. I’m working on understanding that the reality is more important then the appearance of normalcy. I’m working on realizing that the choices I make are only a reflection on my situation, and not on who I am as a person.

So maybe it’s not the end of the world if I drop chemistry, if that gives me more time to go to physical therapy and make sure I can walk like a real person again. Maybe I’m horrible at math, but good at writing. Maybe I’ll take more pictures, and focus on creating fun things that make me happy.

Maybe I’m not going to be the superstar student, or the sports hero, or the girl who everyone knows, but I don’t think any of that will matter if I can find the things I love and the things that make me happy.

I’m not quite sure what those things are yet. But I’m trying.