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Coping, Change & Loss

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What would the high school experience be without a little stress, anxiety and depression? (Fun?) Chances are, you’re having to deal with a lot more than just homework and tests. Jobs, family problems and emotions can complicate even the best high school experience. The question is not if you’re gonna have to face these things, but when and how. Here’s what other teens are going through. Maybe they have some clues you can use.

I thought I was the most unhappy person in my class. I was tortured. I walked around a whole lot with either butterflies or lead in my stomach.
—Student, former cheerleader

When I was in sixth grade my family was given the horrific news that my father had been diagnosed with breast cancer. After a couple of years doing chemo-therapy and radiation, my dad went into remission. It appeared that he had finally defeated his cancer, however this joyous defeat was short lived.
A few years later, when I was a 15, his cancer returned with even greater force. This time around I went on with my life like nothing was wrong. I indulged in the very things that my father, in his authoritarian way, had done everything in his power to prevent me from doing. I drank excessively, smoked, used drugs and, the worst of all in my father’s eyes, I became promiscuous. It was as if I had set out to do the complete opposite of what morals my father had tried to instill in me over the years.
In December of my sixteenth year, my father passed away. After his death, my drinking, drug use and sexual issues just worsened. It was only when I turned nineteen, that I starting to settle down a little and really confront the loss of my father. I was always in denial, and it seems that the denial carried over a few years after he had actually died. I finally had to come to terms with the fact that my dad was dead and that I would never again see him. This evoked a very helpless feeling.
When I was able to accept the fact that he was dead, the next step of my grieving was regret and guilt. Why hadn’t I spent more time with him when he was alive? Why did I do all of those things that my dad had tried so hard to protect me from? In my mind, I began to think of myself as some sort of monster. Now, at the age of 22, I am happy to say that I am closer to conquering this self-destructive phase and move on to acceptance. This is a stage that I have not yet conquered and believe that it will take me a good deal of time to do so.
I now acknowledge the fact that I was angry with my father. I was angry that he was leaving me and would never see me graduate, or walk me down the aisle, or be a grandfather to my children. I know this sounds selfish, but it is in our human nature to have these selfish thoughts on a subconscious level. I know that I avoided him during his final stage of life because to me that sickly body and weak soul was just a shell of my father. I realize now that he himself needed to be disconnected, to prepare himself in some way for moving on into his next life.
It is also more obvious to me now why the drugs and alcohol were so appealing to me. They were effective in numbing the pain I carried inside. My sexual issues were more difficult for me to understand. I do, however, see that the guys were just a poor substitute for a love I so badly needed. It is strange, but at the time, I knew most of these guys didn’t love me but it was almost like I set out to make them love me and sex was just one way that I held the power.
If you should find yourself in a similar situation, I cannot say that you will ever forget, but life does get better. I found one thing that has really helped is not to hide memories of my father. I used to keep pictures tucked away because I thought it would be too painful to see them on a daily basis. Now I keep framed collages of my father on my walls and talk about him frequently to people. Not about his dying, rather his living.
—Danielle, 22

What I would have done differently: I would have not started smoking, and I would have spent much more time sober.
—Elena

Confused and hurt by my parents’ divorce, I felt that I had to be perfect to make things easier for my family. As far back as third grade, I stayed up late doing homework while my siblings slept. I cleaned obsessively. But no matter how much I tried to make myself and the world around me perfect, I felt that I fell short.
—Anonymous

I know I’m addicted. I crave weed. I think about getting high all the time… I’ve tried other things, but I keep coming back to weed. You can’t die from weed, you can’t overdose on it. I’ll change sometime, but not now.
—Jodi, 15

The Lesson Learned
Sometimes I dream of how life would be
Would be to see, to see you with me
If you were here like a guiding light
Help me see the wrongs and rights
I don’t know you even though you’re my air
I’m your eyes, skin, lips and hair
I’m part of you and don’t know your feel
It’s been too long to remember
Like that wonderful day back in September
I feel in a dream but the feels not real
Some nights I dream of you and me
They feel too real but then I see
The clock going off time to wake
Then you disappear it was all fake
If I could just sleep in your arms
For just one day
I’d be speechless without a word to say
I miss you so much I need you now
To be here with you but the question is How?
I’ll keep you in my heart till the day I die
With love that’s eternal with no taints no lies
–Alexandra Hackett, 17, on the loss of her mother when Alexandra was 2

We are taught above all to pretend that we are not feeling the things we are feeling.
—John Bradshaw

Maybe if there was a student-to-student counseling program, kids would use it. We don’t like talking to adults about problems. That’s why we go to our friends. They can relate.*

High school was one of the worst times of my life. Frankly, I think there were times I just stayed as busy as I could so I wouldn’t notice how much pain I was in. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and food were alternate ways to numb out when they were available, and no, I’m not gonna recommend them, but I can certainly understand their appeal. I guess the workaholism, which is kind of a drug in its own way, ended up paying off for me cause it turned into a diploma that was also my ticket out of that night-mare and a way to escape my family and the town we were in, which I also hated. I might have dealt with what I was going through, socially and emotionally, if I had a shred of evidence that there was anyone really there I could trust. I eventually found the support I needed—a good thing, cause after a while, nothing could keep me numb for long.
—Beverly

What would make school more supportive of what I need would be just for people to realize we are teens who have other things going on in our lives that can affect school work, like jobs, family and relationships. The teachers push and push and don’t know when it’s enough.*

You will have much more freedom after high school than you do when you’re in high school. You will enjoy your freedom a whole lot more (and a whole lot longer) if you’re not addicted to anything. Trust me on this.
—Noelle

I lost the most important person I knew last November when my grandmother, Bambi died. Not only was she my grandmother, but my best friend as well. She lived in a nursing home for the last two years of her life, and throughout these lonesome years my family and I have watched her suffer from the Alzheimer’s disease. It is torture to watch a loved one suffer from this horrible, incurable disease. However, enduring it has made me a stronger person.
It was relieving to know my best friend was no longer in pain, but I could not believe she was gone. I could no longer turn to her for advice on boys, school or my parents. I could no longer surprise her with roses, her favorite flowers, just to see her smile.
Tomorrow would have been Bambi’s 84th birthday. I still cannot believe she is gone. When I got accepted to my first choice college, all I could think about was how much I wished she were here to share it with me. When my last boyfriend broke up with me, I cried; not over his absence, but over the fact that she was not there to make fun of him and make me feel better. Every day I miss her more and more; time does not help. However, my strength and desire to succeed has helped me refer to her death as a gift rather than a curse. I have overcome the obstacle of dwelling on my pain and am trying to see the optimistic side of things. She is at peace now; she no longer suffers from Alzheimer’s or brain hemorrhaging.
–Laura, 17

*indicates material that was submitted anonymously

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