life of haleigh

When I was little, my I would’ve told you my safe place was that spot behind the couch where I could build a world with all my Barbies. Or I might have said curled up on that same couch with my dad. Those places never lasted. I had to clean up, dad had projects to work on, nothing that felt comfortable could stay forever. We got a new house later in life. I wasn’t allowed to paint the walls. I couldn’t set plants on those shelves. Couldn’t light candles, you know, living in the basement things. I didn’t pick this mattress but it’s nice and it’s mine for now. Then I moved into a dorm at university. I had 3 roommates (I miss you, if you’re reading this). And I mean yeah, we spilled cider into the carpet and left hair dye in the shower but. It wasn’t ours. It definitely wasn’t mine. I moved twice a year for the next 4 years. And then hopped to a few different homes after that. Living in a suitcase. Went back home for a while, moved my bed around, which was nice. I sticky-tacked some pictu...

 

I have always been able to walk on my own path. In fact, I liked being the one doing my own thing. I was the kid who was usually doing something alone, in my room. Painting a picture, learning a song on the piano, singing to karaoke YouTube videos. I didn't mind being the kid who was a little different or a little weird. I never thought about where I was supposed to be at that point in life. I didn't care who liked me and who didn't. It wasn’t until adulthood, when life is all about being alone, that I really started to become insecure about almost everything. lovers The tiktok tarot card readers tells me you’re coming back. That you just needed a sec before we could be truly in love but I should wait for a text from you. I picked the flower petals all the way down and got “loves me not” but for some reason I felt like it was wrong. You don’t like my Instagram pictures anymore. There’s a new girl, I think her name starts with a J, and she’ll be the next me until someone els...

December 31st, 2021: 10:15pm I convinced my parents I’d be okay to spend New Years alone. I would be okay. After all, I like being alone. It’s not that I didn’t wish I was invited to be with my friends, I just got used to not being there. And I was happy to hear the fireworks outside from my bedroom window. I’m old enough now. I don’t need to be bothered by people who don’t love me. There isn’t a version of me before this who could have said that and meant it. This year, there isn’t even a background noise of my old hurt, and I sleep soundly. January 1st, 2022: 8:00am I take my very first antidepressant. I feel nothing (obviously). I decide to take the month off of drinking to see if it works. It does. Two weeks after my first dose I wake up before my alarm and smile. I still have so much time before I have to go to work. I begin to sleep full nights. My dad tells me he finally sees the Haleigh he always knew I could be. I see her, too. April 29th, 2022: 3:00pm A doctor in Vancouver co...

 There I was, standing with a forty pound backpack on my back, in a bus full of people, hotter than I’ve ever been in my entire life, thinking about how I used to get nervous on travel days. (I promise this isn’t about Europe, keep reading.) Something about packing the bag up and being at the bus stop on time and blah blah blah always made me anxious to even think about. But this was my 19th public transportation since we’d arrived in Europe and I was finally used to the feeling. When I start to worry, I ask myself what’s the worst thing that could happen? And then I count backwards down to a realistic situation. 1. I’m not going to die. 2. I’m not going to lose all my money. 3. I’m not going to get hurt. 4. I’m not going to get lost because I have all the tools I need to navigate what I’m doing. And then the worst thing that could happen would be like, missing the bus and waiting 30 minutes for the next one. And it doesn’t seem so scary that way. Back in the sweaty bus, I sat ther...

I wish sixteen year old me would have told a few more people to go f*ck themselves. Honestly, I think a lot of us go through life thinking that kindness is the only way to get anywhere. Now listen, that’s not to say to be rude to everyone you meet, but there’s a place and time where it’s perfectly viable to tell someone what they need to hear. There’s a sort of plateau of kindness. A little bit goes a long way to someone who values you. But at a certain point, the curve kind of…flattens out. The less someone values you, the less it matters HOW nice you are, and becomes more about simply how much they like you.  Reality check - some people are just never going to like you. And people think you owe them kindness simply because you just have always acted that way. Side note - being nice as collateral or so you have something to hold over their head in the future is not nice, its manipulative. Don't be a martyr. I think I'll talk about that more one day...but for now: I wish sixte...

This past year has been weird. Not in a way that I struggled all that much, it’s just been a really big long learning experience. I promised myself this year would be about getting to know me for who I was. I promised to relax and be good, better than the good I was last year, and to try start my life out of school with all these amazing different ideas. Plans change, I guess. Without school to stress out over, I found a new way to worry, this time it was about something way more broad and way more brutal, my future . I should’ve been that for Halloween.  It’s all I can think about. Who am I gonna be? How am I gonna get there? Who will be there with me? When will it all make sense? Where will I end up? How much will it cost? How much longer can I wait? Am I going to be okay? Will there be love when I get there? Will I have done all the things I needed to do before the opportunity comes around? And then, in true, wouldn’t-be-a-Haleigh-blog-without-it fashion, a song came on the radi...

I think I was like - the last of my friend group to figure out about being self conscious about my body. Every thirteen year old it seems has this moment of like “oh my god, I’m supposed to hate being chubby?” Well imagine me, a baby-faced ninth grader, finding out I’m supposed to be kinda hot now instead of cute. There were so many feelings that came with that. Because I had friends with long hair and straight teeth, and my braces were still months away from coming off, and because I wasn’t ready to give up heaping servings of spaghetti. I could not, at the time, come to terms with the fact that I was supposed to desire skinniness. In fact, I never even thought I was ‘big’ in the first place.  Then that pivotal moment happened. I think I was 14. We were getting ready for a party and trading clothes, how girls do, and someone quietly noted how they could never fit into my clothes because they were ‘way too big.’ Ugh. My heart still breaks for the me who heard that. I never thought ...