The Stress Affect

Ah stress, we all have it, we all handle it differently and we all tend to think that ours is much worse than everyone else's. I know I've been guilty of that a few times, but I'm working on it and you should too because nobody likes those people.

Everyone is in a different life stage, and what is stressing me out right now may seem minuscule to you, while it could be the hardest thing I've ever dealt with thus far. I really started to notice how people react to stress when I was younger and everything was either, "you'll understand when you're older," or "shut up Kayla you're being dramatic." Apparently the things I was worried about then didn't seem like the end of the world to everyone else, but whether or not people liked my homemade magazine and advice column in fifth grade most certainly was a big deal.

Now, I know that people probably see me the same way. Those with "big kid jobs" and you know, people who are actually adults, probably think that I'm incredibly annoying when I say that I'm stressed, and I guess I get that.

My week consists of 168 hours, just like yours. Of those hours, 30 are spent working, 15 are spent doing class work, 15 are spent doing internship work, roughly 10 on average are spent doing things for my various exec boards on campus and about 52 are spent sleeping when I can actually average close to 7 hours a week. With the 46 hours I have left, I spend time planning events for my sorority, answering phone calls for people who need me to do more and trying to plan my wedding. I leave my apartment in the morning before the sun comes up, and usually don't get home until it has been well on its way down.

Am I stressed? Of course I am, so much so that it has started to take a physical toll on my body, but that doesn't mean that no one else isn't stressed too.

Sometimes we get so caught up in what is going on in our own lives, that we forget to stop and take note of what's happening to those around us. We've got to stop telling people that their troubles aren't as important as ours, we've got to stop being terrible friends, significant others, daughters and sons, siblings and just all around decent human beings.

It really comes down to prioritizing, which I realize now that I've been doing a little bit wrong. This week I'm going to make it a personal mission of mine to stop stressing so much about the small stuff, to put down my phone and be present. To be present for my friends, my fiancé, my family and of course my dog. I'll make an effort to not belittle anyone else and their stress, because even if they don't have as much on their plate as I do, they could still have something much worse, or something extremely difficult to deal with.

You never know what is going on with others, you don't know the trouble they're facing, and if I could just experience a bunch of positive people on a daily basis, then my stress may not seem so heavy. So this week, I'll try to be that positive person, that person who doesn't judge and that person who doesn't belittle.

I'll try to be a better, less tense and stressed out decent human being. I hope you'll try with me.

What Not To Expect When You Join A Sorority

There is always a lot of speculation about whether joining a sorority is a good idea or not, and while both sides typically have a few good arguments, I thought I would go ahead and throw out my stand on the subject. As a disclaimer, I will say that I am an affiliated woman currently, and if you think that makes this post biased, you may be right, but I would encourage you to read it either way and soak in the information as you wish.

1) Don't expect sunshine and rainbows all the time.

A common misconception about sororities is that they are the happiest place on campus, all chants and smiles and Starbucks, but that's just not how the cookie crumbles my friends. There will be drama, as there is in any situation with 2+ women in the same room. There will be times when you fight like siblings and think that you hate each other, it's just inevitable. However, you are the only entity that can choose to stop those things from happening. This is when the whole "going to college to be a big kid" thing kicks in. You're not always going to like everyone, but you can always choose how to handle yourself, which typically is either like a functioning member of society (adult) or like a screaming baby (child).

2) Don't expect everyone to run up to you and be super duper excited to be your best friend.

While every affiliated member is always excited about a new group of sisters, friends, and littles, they can't do all the work. It's true what they say, "you get out what you put in" and if you're standing in a corner with your arms crossed, talking to no one and convincing yourself that you're having a miserable time, you're probably not going to get much out of it. The truth is, these girls will go out of their way to try and make you comfortable, but they can only do so much. Believe it or not, some of the responsibility does fall on you. So make an effort to talk to someone you don't know, join in on games or group conversations, get out of the corner and have fun for yourself, don't expect someone else to do it for you.

3) Don't expect to hate it.

If you come in with a bad attitude, you're not going to have a good time. Simple as that. Whether you got into a chapter that wasn't your first choice, or you don't like Sally's face, or you think that sororities are a government conspiracy, whatever your reason is, leave it at the door. Because if you come in with a bad attitude, it will effect your experience, and the experiences of those around you which isn't fair to anyone.

**What you can expect, is to find a group of women with similar interests. A group of girls who all probably need a support system in one way or another. So just be nice, try to enjoy yourself, and don't over think everything. No one is out to get you, you're just in a club, one that raises a lot of money for philanthropies every year, but if you slap a "no boys allowed" sign on the door then it's really not that different than everything you've been doing with your life up until this point. There's just more singing.**

What It Really Means to be the "Mom" of Your Friend Group

Everyone knows one. The girl who everyone calls, "Mom". She's not actually related to you, half of the time she's not even older than you, but she takes care of every one in your group of friends like they are her own. Sometimes, to a fault.

Sometimes it means losing sleep.
      Whether it's losing sleep because she's worried for you, or because she's up all night texting you back to assure you that you are in fact not the only crazy person on the face of the planet, and that whatever traumatic thing you're going through isn't as bad as it seems, and it will all get better.

Sometimes it means being in public at your worst.
       Sometimes being the "mom" means getting out of bed at night to go pick up a friend who had one to many. Or to come over and hold you while you cry, or your hair while you get sick. Sometimes it means arguing with you even when you're yelling about how much you hate her because she won't let you drive yourself home, or go home with someone you'll probably regret in the morning.

Sometimes it means learning not to crave recognition.
       As selfish as this one sounds, it's reality. We all crave recognition. Whether it be for doing something well, or being right, we all secretly want to be recognized. However, when you're the "mom" of the group, sometimes you have to learn to step back. After awhile, and enough favors, people tend to expect the "mom" behavior out of you, and your good deeds are no longer that, but something you're expected to do because, "it's just how you are".

Sometimes it means feeling lonely.
       Even though you're surrounded by people, sometimes you feel like you have no one to talk to. It may be something you create in your own mind, but you've gotten so used to putting on the mask of a person who has it all together, and you feel like you can't turn to the people who always turn to you.

Sometimes it means awkward situations.
      Whether it be getting stuck between two friends who both come to you for advice on the subject of one another, or being in a situation where you have to give some tough love even though you know it may blow back in your face, they'll both happen eventually. When most sane people would just stay out of it and know that it isn't any of their business, you just can't stand idly by when there's something someone you love should hear, even if it means they'll be upset with you.

Sometimes it means being the bad guy.
       The tough love aspect isn't always fun. Sometimes you feel that you have to tell someone you care about, something they don't want to hear, and while you know you have their best interest at heart, it's still never fun to hear the negative responses, or to go through the not speaking phase.

Sometimes it means swallowing your pride.
      When the tough love blows back, and you tell the truth, and the friend who needs to accept it just won't, a lot of the time, they say things they don't mean and they explode, and they avoid you for awhile. But if you turn out to be right, and what you feared would happen did, and your friend needs someone to console them, you're the first one at the door. Never offering an, "I told you so," or "you should've listened to me" you just try to make them feel better, and slowly forgive the things they did or said, without ever bringing them up again.

But it always means love.
      Whether they drive you crazy, or give you a reason to get up in the mornings, being the "mom" of a friend group means that you have people in your life worth protecting. People that are close, and that you love and would do anything for, and that's a lot more than what some people can say.

So if you're the "mom" and you ever feel taken for granted, just try to remember that even if they don't show it the same way that you do, those people love you too.

Love,
Kayla

The Difference Between Halloween and Date Parties

It's that season again.

The sweaters and scarves are out, the air is a little more crisp, we're busily looking for dates to our parties, and seeking dates to other formals.

Then there's the ever present question, "What are you going as?"

Whether we're talking sorority functions or an age old tradition it seems to be the same question, so why do they differ? Well in all honesty, the sad truth is that the memories we enjoyed as children are apparently frowned upon in our ripe old age of you know...20. So we created Halloween for big kids. Unnecessary you think? Well let's talk about what happens if you try to do Halloween the old way nowadays..

1) Judgement.
        At date parties you get to dress up with your sisters and their lucky dates. Usually that comes with a lot of talk prior to the event about what everyone will wear. You show up to the venue feeling confident in your outfit and knowing that you look good. The thought of someone else stealing your thunder or thinking you look stupid has never even crossed your mind.

         On Halloween, regardless of what clever ensemble you choose, you will still be concerned that you'll end up somewhere that it's inappropriate, or that someone won't understand who you are. We all know how annoying it is when a stranger doesn't understand your Regina George impersonation. It's just not as funny after you explain it.

2) Competition
           At date parties, even if you show up in the same outfit as one of your sisters, the two of you can share a good laugh, pose for a few pictures, and probably even make each other your #WCW afterward. It's totally fine.

          On Halloween, if you show up dressed like someone else, it may get a little awkward. The best part is when the person dressed just like you, is the one who is secretly hoping to run into you ten years and fifty pounds from now. Chances are, you probably won't leave the party as bffs.

3) Activities
           At date parties, regardless of your activities of choice before or after, you pretty much know what's going down at all times. Dancing, pictures, maybe a photo booth or so, and some refreshments. All of which you're completely used to, and are close enough to being age appropriate.

          On Halloween, you're constantly wondering if you're too old to be wearing a costume, even though you want to trick or treat so bad... it's probably about 10 years too late for that. So your options are probably someone's house party or hanging out in a church parking lot handing candy to kids. All of which is fine, but then walking back to your car or into your apartment just some how feels so much more awkward than it would if you just got off of a bus with about 80 other people who looked just like you.

4) Costumes
          At date parties, you're a little more daring, you can wear whatever you want and not worry about what people will say because chances are these people already know and it's probably already been said to your face, as it should be. Your sisters will embrace your quirkiness, or your slightly too high thigh slit, with laughter and maybe a few embarrassing pictures that end up being totally worth it.

         On Halloween, you spend much more time worrying about who will be around. What if I run into my mom's best friend, or a flock of tiny humans, or my middle school preacher? Would he appreciate the horns you're sporting on your head? Or your blonde barbie wig and your leggings as pants? Probably not, though it shouldn't matter what anyone thinks, you will still walk away from that conversation feeling much more awkward than you would if you were talking to your advisor.

5) Candy
          Halloween wins this one. You could have the coolest candy bar I've ever seen at your date party, but nothing beats the memories of knocking on doors to take candy from strangers. The one day of the year you're allowed to break almost every rule your parents ever made. Come on.

The moral of the story children, is that though costume parties and the so called holiday that is always playful and full of calories that obviously don't count may seem like they're essentially the same, they most certainly are not.

I however will most likely be partaking in both. Candy and costumes, it's a win win.

You're Still Here

Dear Zach,

    This is my second letter, I know I won't receive a response, yet I keep praying that someway, somehow you'll let us know, let me know that you're okay. I know you must be, there's no way a beautiful soul like yours couldn't be. But the silence is still deafening. I almost called you the other day, just out of habit to ask you to come hang out with us. Knowing you wouldn't answer was a little overwhelming.

    I'm trying to step up and look out for her, but you know how hard this has been on her. She thinks about you every day. She dreams about you at night, and she tries to drink you away and just ends up in a deeper hole than before. I'm trying to keep it together for everyone that relied on you. I'm just not you. It's not the same. You were so much better at this than I am. You have a way about you that's just so calming. I could look at you, and your little sideways smile or your not so subtle words, or even your unsolicited compliments, they always just made me forget why I was upset.

I just wish I could've done that for you.

   The irony is that everyone ran to you for comfort. Everyone looked to you to be the strong one, the one who had it all together, and now that we're here without you, we don't know who to turn to. Sometimes being happy and acting like nothing happened feels wrong, but I know that's not how you would have wanted it. I feel silly for being so upset about this, when you had much closer friends and family of course. Yet there's still this strange questioning void inside me. I feel like you were trying to tell me something the last time we spoke, and even though I try, it's hard to convince myself that there still wasn't anything I could have done.

   There's so much more than I want to say to you, and to ask you, I just wish I could. We miss you so much, though I'm sure you already know that. I hope it's everything you dreamt it would be, and that you don't even remember the pain and the suffering. I hope that one day, when it's my time, that you'll meet me at the gate, and that we'll talk for hours, not remembering any of this. Until then, fly high sweet angel. At least it's good to know we have you looking out for us. So in that sense, nothing has really changed..

My Obsession With Body Image

Tonight, we had a speaker visit our campus, her name is Stacy Nadeau. Stacy was a model for the Dove campaign that premiered and took the world by storm in 2005.

This campaign started the conversation about what it is to be truly beautiful. It showed different women, of all shapes, sizes, ages, colors, and even hair types in only their underwear. Nothing like this had ever been done before. So why was it so important? It started the conversation that you don't have to be tall, skinny and blonde like the airbrushed models we see every day to be beautiful. A conversation, that still, nine years later, is not even close to being over.

Stacy's message really stuck with me for a few reasons, one being that I had given a group presentation on the Dove campaign last Friday before I knew she would be speaking, and because I've had my own personal struggle with body image for as long as I can remember.

I've decided to share my own story, which normally I would't do, because I like to portray myself as a strong and confident woman. However, lately I've seen some of the most beautiful and most important women in my life struggle with their own body issues, and I want them to realize their own value.

Growing up, I was always bigger than my friends, taller, and wider. I matured faster, I grew farther, and I didn't understand why.

I was never "fat", but there were times when I felt like I was. I struggled buying jeans because the ones that were long enough were too small, and the ones that fit my waist barely covered my ankles. Tops were just as difficult, I needed a larger size to accommodate my breasts, but could never find one that did both that, and fit my waist without looking like a tent. Any of the tops that did were too short to cover my entire torso.

Needless to say, it took quite a while for me to establish my own sense of style and feel good about what I was wearing and how I presented myself.

For a long time, I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain a pound, it was awesome. Unfortunately though, that couldn't last forever. The summer after my senior year in high school, I went through a pretty rough break up. I lost a lot of my appetite, and turned to working out to blow off steam. I lost twenty five pounds, and ended up being a little underweight, even though I did not have an eating disorder.

When I got to college I was learning how to recreate myself in a new environment, and as they say, the freshman fifteen catches up with you. I gained back some of the weight I had lost but I was still very confident. I was healthy, and I loved my body.

I got busy, I took on a lot of responsibilities, and my eating habits quickly turned back to Taco Bell at three in the morning, and whatever was convenient during the day. However, this time my high school metabolism wasn't there to back me up.

Now, I am twenty years old and weigh about 10-15lbs more than I did in high school. Do I love every inch of my body, every second of every day? Of course not. There will always be things that I'm not in love with about myself. Sometimes I think my thighs magically grow into the size of Russia when I sit down in a pair of shorts. Sometimes I'm paranoid that you can see imperfections through my shirts, but I am happy.

While I know I still have a little bit of work to do with my lifestyle, as far as eating healthier and being more active, I am taking steps to make myself happy and healthy.

I've given up feeling like I have to be skinny and perfect, or tan or have a perfectly round rump. I'm focusing instead on what I have in store for myself. I believe that a cute pair of underwear, the right pair of shoes, and a modest amount of confidence can make any outfit that I try on look beautiful.

In all reality, I wouldn't look right, or be me if I was a size two, and I have no desire to be. As Stacy said tonight, I am searching for my best healthy self, and to be honest folks, I don't think I'm far from it. Sure I may be able to wear a size 10, and rock a 38DD, but if I feel beautiful, then who is it going to bother anyway?

I'm not telling you any of this out of my own self interest, but to encourage girls who aren't happy, to take a really good look at why it is that they don't feel comfortable. If that reason isn't something that is effecting your health, then is it really one to be obsessing over? Realize how beautiful you really are, embrace your potential, and stop getting on scales. Seriously, they never help anyone.

I am NOT discouraging anyone from being healthy, and I am NOT putting down any women who are tall, blonde, and a size 0. I just want every woman, no matter what size you are to love the skin that you were given.

Below are a few pictures of me throughout my journey. 

The images on the left are from when I was a little underweight, and the first time I stopped feeling like I was fat.

The images on the right, are me now, healthy, and happy.

Dear Zach

Dear Zach,

         As I sit here tonight, I'm struggling to find the words to get out exactly how I feel. I can't grasp that you're gone. The thought that I will never see you again, not while I'm alive anyway, just isn't one that I can understand. The tears have stopped now, my mind has gone numb, trying to find answers to questions that can never be found. Trying to make sense of a situation such as this.

        I saw you last night, playing volleyball, laughing, talking about a book you let me borrow, and when I left, I forgot to hug you and tell you that I loved you, like I always do. This time though, I didn't want to interrupt your game, so I just left. That will always bother me. I know this isn't my fault, and there probably isn't anything I could have done, but the thought that maybe I could have said something, maybe I could have done something, anything, to make you reconsider, is almost too much to bear.

      I hate to think of what kind of place you must have been in, how tortured you had to have been, for something like this to seem like your only way out. I will always remember you as the sweet, happy guy that shared laughs with me, broke down doors for me, moved me into my new apartment, and always had something to say to brighten my day. I will forever be grateful for the friendship we shared, and for the time I had to get to know you, I can only hope that my friendship impacted you in at least some small way. I just wish I had more time with you.

     Some people are mad at you. Some people think that you've been selfish, that you didn't think about the repercussions of your actions. Or about how many people would be effected. I suppose that may be true. But I think you did. I think you did know about all of those things, I think you thought long and hard about it, and that it tore you up inside. It may be easier for people to be mad at you, it may be easier to just think that you were selfish, and to not think of how miserable you must have been, and about how we didn't see it. I wish I could think like that, but I can't. I can't be mad at you, because I know how caring and selfless you were. I know that none of this could have been easy for you, and that you always considered others in your choices. I know how deeply you felt, and how it was both a blessing and a curse for you. I just wish I could have done something to make life here easier for you.

    I hope one day that I can see you again, hold you in my arms and tell you how much I care, we all care, how much we've missed you. But until then, we'll carry the scars of missing you with us each day, and we'll slowly work our way back to a sense of normalcy, one that's a little less bright without you here, and we'll cling to our memories, careful not to let them slip away. While we share stories of who you were, and remind everyone who knew you of all of the good you did for us. This will not define you. You will not just be another statistic. You're so much more than that. You are our friend, our family. We will always love, and miss you.