8 Things I Wish I Could Have Told Myself at 18

Oftentimes nowadays, I find myself reminiscing on the glory days, those years when I first began my college journey and the road towards finding myself. Looking back, I remember the invincibility that engulfed every portion of my life in those days and I also remember thinking I knew it all- that there was no person in any better place with any better life knowledge or any better understanding of the world than I had then. But, as we generally find when hindsight becomes 20/20, I couldn’t have been more wrong or miscalculated my maneuvers any more than I did. If only my naïve self, at age 18, knew then what I know now.

#1. The people who truly matter the most will always be around, despite any challenges you may face in your life.

                For years, I tended to focus my life around people who only came around when it was convenient or who only were my friends/love interests/acquaintances for a short time. I didn’t realize that life is a natural progression and that it is okay to lose touch with people who once entertained your every thought. I didn’t understand that if someone wasn’t strong enough to help you through a situation, that generally meant they didn’t love you as you deserved to be loved. Some people are only meant to be in our lives for a short period of time. They teach us about ourselves, about life, and about loss; and that is perfectly okay.

#2. There will come a time, no matter how much you may resent it, when you will have to look your parents in the eye and say three little words: “You.were.right.”

                When I first traveled to college, I had my heart set on a career in Public Relations. In the months leading up to my departure and during every single break that occurred during freshman and sophomore years, my dad would lecture me on how I should have chosen teaching as a profession. “Summers off! Nothing better!” he would say, followed by, “If only I could put my 48-year-old head on your 18-year-old body.” My God, I was irked by him then. And of course, today, I am planning on going back to school to pursue a degree in Elementary Education.

#3. Take ownership for your past mistakes. That is the only way anything will ever get better.

                For a while, whenever I screwed up I found it infinitely easier to run away from the problem than to actually face it head on. And you know what I realized? People can only help you solve problems if you admit that they occurred. 100% of human beings fuck up somewhere along the way. Do not be embarrassed or ashamed to admit that you are one of them.

#4. Do things that scare you.

                I have found over time that some of the greatest memories of my life have resulted from gigantic leaps of faith: applying for that dream internship I feared I could never get, allowing myself to be vulnerable and to fall in love, jumping out of an airplane on a hot summer day, telling the person I loved exactly how I felt even though I was terrified. These are the grand and bold gestures; these have the capabilities to change your life. Never be afraid to take an insane risk.

#5. Life is 10,000 times more difficult when you sit back and compare yourself to others.

                It’s normal, especially for females, to compare themselves to other people: to weigh your weight against someone else, your attractiveness, your talents and skill sets. I was no different, particularly where my family was concerned. As the youngest of four girls, I constantly compared myself to the amazing individuals that my sisters are and guess what? One day, when I wasn’t even expecting it, I was hit in the face with a magnificent realization: my sisters and I, much like all of us, are cut from the same cloth. We care, we react, we work hard, we love. How many of us are alike at the core when you strip it all down? Comparisons are for the insecure and the weak and let’s get real- you are neither of those things.

#6. It’s okay to lose your way. In fact, it’s abnormal not to.

                For a while, I was sure of where I was going and what I was doing- until I wasn’t anymore. I got so freaked out by my inability to wrap my head around my own life that, I won’t lie, I spiraled a bit out of control. But the most amazing thing happened in the midst of the struggle. I found myself. I found strength that I never would have found without those problems and I triumphed through them. At the end of the day, those triumphs will always mark an unbelievable time in my life.

#7. Your worth is not defined by another human being.

                There were times in my life where I found myself caught in webs, completely entrapped by other people. I so desperately desired their approval and so urgently needed their love that I allowed these people to walk all over me. I allowed them to belittle me with their words and their actions. I allowed them to break my heart. I allowed them to see me cry.  At the end of the day, how did I feel? Worthless. Empty. Under-appreciated. How did I get to the point where I let another human being make me feel that way? And why did I let it continue? If there’s one thing I know for damn sure right now in my 20s, it is that this will never happen again.

#8. Find courage and solace in the tiny moments.

                Over time, I have come to realize that it really is the little things in life that matter the most: when we’re sitting with our family around the dinner table, when we’re watching our nephew laugh, when we’re crying on our friends’ shoulders, when we’re drinking beers on porches in the summer. These are the times we’ll remember when our worlds are crumbling down. These are the memories we will lean on to find ourselves again. Embrace them, enjoy them, allow them to define you.

To all of you 18s out there on the edge of something new and for all you 20 somethings who may have found yourselves again through spurts of courage: You are beautiful. You are resilient. You are resounding. And the echoes that await you and the echoes that you leave behind you are, without a doubt, going to mark the pavement of an absolutely fulfilling life.

Happy Father's Day, Jimbo

Growing up, days like Father's Day, Mother's Day, Memorial Day, Veteran's Day all seemed unnecessary. In my narrow little mind I was oftentimes confused. Why is there one specific day to appreciate these people? Shouldn't we be telling them every single day how much we love them and how grateful we are for their presence in our lives? Now granted, my view was a little skewed because, as the youngest of four girls, I grew up in a very affectionate household and have always been quick to give a hug, blurt out a small praise or drop many "I love yous" in quick succession without even realizing it. Despite my upbringing, however, and the fact that I continue to and will always persistently wear my heart on my sleeve, days much like today have begun to take on a deeper meaning for me as I get older. I now understand that, on Father's Day, it's not about just telling Daddy how much I love him- it's about showing the world too. It's about standing up, taking pride in an individual, their uniqueness and their influence on your life. So that it exactly what I plan on doing from here on out.

My parents got married young, though by the standards of the 1980s that wasn't necessarily the case. By the time my mom was my age now (22, for anyone who is interested), she had three children in diapers. That's a terrifying concept in my young and immature mind, and one that is hard for me to fathom. How, exactly, did my parents do it? I'm still not sure I could give anyone a positive answer. By the time my mom was 27 and my dad was 29, I was born and completed our family of six. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, necessary I believe in the case, and my dad, without a college education and backed by so much love for his family, worked diligently day in and day out to put food on the table. Working his way up the ladder in the field of steamfitting, my dad somehow saved up enough money at a time to: a). buy his first home in Delaware County, succeeded 11 years later by our family's second home in Chester County; b). send all of his daughters through Catholic grade school, private Catholic high schools and then through college; c). purchase the home of his and my mom's dreams in Sea Isle City, NJ (after he had successfully rented a home every summer in Sea Isle so my sisters and my mom could spend our entire summers at the shore). Along the way, he started a business with his father and his siblings that began to slowly thrive. Throughout all of the years, as my dad continued to work for his family, I never once heard him complain.

Yes, this is an impressive feat by any standard. I've always had a certain appreciation for the underdogs, the people who start out with nothing and through hard work, commitment and faith somehow find it all. My dad fits this mold for me and despite everything that he has done financially for my family, it is the little things I am finding as I grow up that tend to mean more to me.

My earliest memory of my father comes from a family vacation, I'm not sure what year. My sisters and I were all in Cape May, NJ with our parents for a night of shopping and fun. I can't remember why exactly, but my dad had to go to the car to retrieve something and my sister Bridget and I began fighting over who got to go with him. It's a simple, silly memory but there was something about my dad, even then, that made him so magnetic. It's hard to spend even an hour with my father and not fall in love with the person that he is. He's enthusiastic and hilarious and driven and patient and successful. He's the kind of person that you meet and instantly hope that the best parts of him will somehow appear in you. After all, it takes a special man to grow up in a house with five women, and a female cat, while constantly maintaining a mega-watt smile.

My dad is the most hard-working man I know, but above all, he is a family man. Not only does he love my mother, my sisters and myself so much, but his love shines everywhere he goes. He lights up around his parents, his siblings, his grandson and all of his nieces and nephews. And all of the love that he gives wherever he goes is received back in tenfold.

A few years ago, at a college party, I was talking to a guy about our backgrounds and this specific person asked me about my dad. It's a little embarrassing and yes, I did have alcohol in my system, but as I began to describe my father, I also began to cry. There isn't a single day that passes, no matter how annoying he is being in an attempt to be funny, no matter how much I've disappointed him, that I don't feel blessed when I wake up in the morning to be my father's daughter.

 

My dad is goofy. He's an awkward dancer, a terrible listener, a Judge Judy appreciator, the changer of the channel when you're really into a TV show. He can be pretty bad at correctly matching his clothing, he listens to talk radio more often than normal, and he always teases you if you don't put a $1 bill in his birthday cards. He's the torturer of our cat, the Guns N' Roses enthusiast and the man who met my mom while flushing his foot down a toilet at a party. He pretends to know lyrics to songs when he doesn't, he always buys unique TastyKakes that no one will end up eating, and he tucks his t-shirts into his mesh shorts before he works out.

But he's the first one to purchase concert tickets just to make his kids smile, he's the 2002 Father of the Year at Merion Mercy Academy, and the former president of the Home and School Board at Holy Cross School. He's the president of the Board of Trustees at Delaware County Community College, he organizes the golf outing for the Inglis Foundation every year, he is the first one to stop if he sees a THON canner on the street. He can cook the best pasta around, fix just about anything that has been broken and stay patient under the most difficult circumstances. He's the best public speaker I know and can make someone laugh so hard that they cry. He makes little sacrifices for the people he loves every single day and makes us all better just by simply being who he is.

This past fall, after successfully being offered an internship with the Philadelphia Flyers, my dad was driving me home. Feeling like the whole world was directly in front of me, I couldn't stop smiling or babbling. I asked my dad that day what he had wanted to be when he grew up. His answer was simple, and it caught me by surprise.

"A good father."

Well, Daddy, today and every day you deserve to know that you succeeded. You aren't just a good one; you're the best.

It's Almost That Time of Year Again...

This time one year ago, I was preparing to venture back to State College for spring semester of my first senior year at Penn State University. While the prospect of returning home was certainly one that filled me with excitement, the majority of the anxious pit in my stomach could be accredited to only one thing: THON 2012. Prior to leaving for winter break, my THON organization FutuRES (of which I was the president and THON chair at the time) had selected myself and one of our Family Relations chairs, Stephen Kohler, as our organization's dancers. I was beyond ecstatic and also a bit nervous as THON slowly crept up on us through the cold winter days at University Park. Before I knew it, Dancer Meeting #1 was all around myself and my partner in Rec Hall. We met our moralers, we wore in our sneakers, I pretended that I was exercising (though, let's get real- if you know me, you know that was certainly not the case). Everything was going swimmingly leading up to a weekend that was bound to be the most life-changing one in my 21 years.

Steve and Me With Our Friend Reilley at Color Wars Kickoff

Before I knew it, THON weekend was in high gear. I learned the complete irony of telling a dancer to get a good night's sleep the night before THON kicks off. People who have danced before: am I right or am I right? How do you sleep at all before something that is equivalent to the night before Christmas? Anyway, that's beside the point. The entire Friday of THON weekend before arriving at the All Sports Complex for Dancer Meeting #2, my partner and I texted each other in flurries of excitement. "This can't be happening!" "This isn't real!" "I can't believe it's finally here!" Now let me tell you that I was a Morale committee member for three years. I was used to a lot of time on the floor and I had even been by my sister's side when she danced in THON 2004. Nothing, I repeat NOTHING, could have prepared me what was about to come. I'm not sure I fully understood this until the human tunnel began.

Throughout my time at Penn State, I had been one of the students lining the human tunnel at THON each year. The feeling that was in my heart, however, from the other side as a dancer is impossible to convey or describe. My first favorite memory of THON weekend happened in that very same Human Tunnel that I thought I understood. I always believed it was there to get the dancers pumped up, but if people only knew how much it inspires. That day, as I walked through the tunnel near to the BJC, I caught a glimpse of the families. Each of the parents or children that I passed, some holding signs of encouragement, thanked me. They were thanking me? I wish I had been able to stop and hug each and every one of them because in all sincerity, the thank yous belonged to them. Their struggles, their strength and their optimism had changed me so much during my time as a Penn State student. Those children with their bald heads and their big smiles had made me the person I was at that very moment. How could they possibly be thanking me when this was the truth of it all?

Human Tunnel Time!

Upon entering the BJC with Steve, the magnitude of THON began to sink in. We sat on the floor after dropping our belongings and looked around at the entire BJC. We talked about how amazing it was, we marveled over all of the people with similar visions, we joked around as we waited for the first of our THON families to arrive. Then, through the midst of the crowd we saw the Bonners (Amy with her sons Wes and Joey) weaving their way through the colors wearing our purple dinosaur t-shirts. Amy was carrying two gift bags, one for myself and one for Steve. As she sat down next to me on the floor of the BJC, I had my second most revered THON memory. Amy and the boys had made glittery picture frames with a picture of them and their soon-to-be step brothers, Gabe and Drew. Above the photograph of the boys shone the words "Thank You For Brightening Our Journey." Steve and I exchanged smiles and even though the gesture was very thoughtful, that was not the moment that stuck with me throughout the weekend. Amy began to whisper to me in the sea of the loud and brazen. She began to tell me a story.

"I just saw a woman who I haven't seen in ages," she said. "When Wes was in treatment, he had a friend who was always in the hospital at the same time. The woman I just saw was that little boy's mother. Wes survived, and he did not. This weekend, not only think of Wes but think of that little boy and his mom. They will help you through."

My eyes filled up with tears as Amy and I shared a knowing glance and a nod. There was no way in the world that I would give up. I would fight through the pain I would feel over the coming days, and I would fight it for the kids.

Almost Time to Dance!

Now, there's something you should know about me. It's not something that I'm proud of, but I am a very emotional human being. Seriously, the slightest thing makes me bawl like a baby. I told my dance partner if I cried before the total was revealed at the end of the weekend to punch me in the face. Thank God he didn't listen because, if he had, I would have needed plastic surgery. And the first punch would have been thrown when we stood.

"10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1! GET UP!" Yupp, I lost it. Right there.

Something people always ask me when they ask me about THON weekend is how people do it, how they stay awake for two days straight. I'm sure any other dancer can agree with me when I say this: there was not a single portion of that weekend where it felt like two days. I knew what time it was the entire weekend (highly discouraged by most, so I never said that), but it felt like a series of really phenomenal moments strung together into one long, beautiful, chaotic day.

More moments began to occur like the ones I had had with the families in the Human Tunnel and with Amy:

*My dad is fifty-two and has a poor back, but THON weekend you never would have known that. He carried me around more often than he walked around without holding my weight. Right before the final four hours began, my mom and dad were on the floor and Steve was really starting to fade. My dad looked exhausted and was holding me on his back when he turned around and asked me if I could stand on my own for a little while. I instantly jumped down, believing my dad needed a rest. The second my feet hit the floor, by dad approached Steve and I watched as my dad bent down and put my dance partner's weight on his back. My dad's strength for the sake of keeping us strong kept me going.

*My mom is tiny. She is 5'2" on a good day and that weekend she seemed smaller than ever. But she never hesitated to take on my weight and make it her own. And, when my dad had me on his back, she was always there with a simultaneous back rub or foot massage. My mom's love for me kept me going.

*As the youngest of four girls, I was very lucky THON weekend to have all of my sisters with me. My sister Shannon I was looking forward to especially, as it was my first time seeing her since I found out she was pregnant. She stood on the floor next to me and I rubbed her belly as my brother-in-law piggybacked me around like a pro. I couldn't help smiling at the thought of that baby (who just so happens to now be the cutest nephew a girl could ask for). My sister and her little family kept me going.

*My sister Meghan knows what to do when it comes to morale, so it comes as no surprise that she was incredibly helpful. After Mail Call, my first breakdown began. I was emotional and crying for no reason and what frustrated me even more was knowing I didn't have a reason to be crying. My sister took me into a back hallway of dancer storage, where she had me kneel and massaged my feet as I leaned against a wall. The entire time, she never hesitated to whisper her encouragements to me or help me find my best friends on the floor. My sister's protectiveness kept me going.

*After Mail Call, prior to being in the back hallway of Dancer Storage with my sister Meghan, I spent time with both her and my sister Bridget on the floor. While in my emotional stage, Meghan encouraged me to cry while Bridget understood that I needed a distraction to be happy again. She pulled out these little inspirational note cards with quotes on them and then placed me on her back. Together, we fought our way through the crowd and found every struggling dancer we could. Each time that we saw a dancer who looked tired, we gave them some inspiration. Bridget understood that in order to be moraled I needed to morale other people. Her wisdom kept me going.

*That weekend, I had a best friend who was also dancing with his organization. Any time that I struggled, I sought him out and he did not hesitate to make me laugh or put a smile on my face. His humor in the face of achy feet kept me going. The same could also be said for my buddy Lindsay Beth who seemed to be my own personal Morale Captain, despite having other dancers and committee members to look out for. Right as Lindsay was about to take her committee off of the THON floor for the final time, she found me and my parents. Immediately, we hugged and she cried on me. The fact that my best friend allowed me to help her after helping me the entire weekend kept me going. 

*I am obsessed with my cat, as I'm sure you know. When my parents asked me what I wanted them to bring THON weekend, I confidently told them I wanted Cece there. Since she couldn't be, my mom improvised and made a GIANT sign of my cat. On one side it was her awake, on the other it was her sleeping with a giant red line through her face. My mom mounted it for me and I proudly carried her through the crowd. It was a definite conversation starter for sure, but one conversation sticks out in my mind. My sister Bridget was with me and I was simultaneously holding Cece and playing kickball to keep my feet moving. A man approached us and started asking us questions about the sign. Within five minutes, we were sharing all sorts of information with him as he told us how THON never ceases to amaze him. With that, he pointed behind him to a young man. He proceeded to tell my sister and me that his son had been cancer-free for twelve years and they had been coming to THON ever since. He shook my hand and then he was gone. I didn't see him for the rest of the weekend, but I can still visualize him as clear as day. His honesty in that moment kept me going.

*During the final four hours, Charles Millard made his way through the crowd to speak to the dancers. Luckily, I was one of the students who was able to spend a moment with him. Both himself and his daughter encouraged me to keep going. I imagined what it must feel like knowing that your family's heartache could bring so much joy to the world. Mr. Millard's courage kept me going.

These moments all blended together in no sequential order as the weekend rushed by all around me. I couldn't believe my eyes when it was finally Family Hour and there I was, with our tiny organization's circle, surrounded by all of Penn State's love and compassion. I couldn't help but smile to myself as our THON child Wes continued to ricochet exercise balls off of my face throughout the duration of the family speeches, and smiled even wider when prior to Angels Among Us, he screamed "I CALL MIDDLE" and jumped into the center of the circle. That day also, our THON family grew as we were finally able to meet the second family that had been paired with our organization that year, the Espinoza Family. Having Wes and Tony there that day, seeing them both healthy, reminded me of what this had all been for and why THON would continue to be worth it until cancer was eradicated.

And then, just like that, it was all over. The water gun fights, the sore toes, the baby powder lingering in the air, the countless hugs of encouragement were all gone. Steve and I sat and hugged and we held on for dear life and didn't let go for a while. There were $10,686, 924.83 reasons to celebrate, laugh, cry tears of joy and appreciate one another. We went home but we didn't want to. We slept when we all of a sudden weren't tired. And later that week, we got dinner and pored over every single minute of every single hour. It was THAT powerful of an experience.

To the THON 2013 Dancers:
I envy you. I cannot wait to watch you make new memories of your own. Please allow your heart to remain completely open, no matter how much your legs may begin to shake from your weight and no matter how much your arches in your feet may begin to flatten. If you find yourself fading, look for those who seem to be a bit more weary than you feel- make them smile, delight with them, remind them of the feeling of friendship that envelopes THON so tightly. And for once in your life, I will tell you to keep your head down. Keep your head down and see the little ones, the ones who only come up to your knee but understand more about life than you do despite the height and age difference. Look for the siblings who are carrying water guns. Look for the rubber exercise balls that any given child will be willing to play with at any given time. Despite what people may tell you, THON has nothing to do with your physical strength and everything to do with the size of your heart. Trust yourself, trust your vision of a world with no cancer and have the GREATEST WEEKEND OF YOUR LIFE. Seriously, nothing can prepare you for what's to come but believe me when I say that you will never experience a better time in your life.

And lastly, a very special thanks to everyone who helped brighten my journey at THON 2012. I am so thankful for you. Now it's time to Inspire Tomorrow's Miracles!