Suicide

When I took a career assessment test, I think one of my top results was counselor.

Which I scoffed at, because it is so obvious how much I need to be a scientist.

But lately I've realized that might not be too far off. Not as a career, but more as a personality. I counsel.

I've read and heard a lot about the movie "Bully" that's coming out, so I've been thinking about that in the back of my head. And today I accidentally found a suicide note on tumblr, which made me realize this vast community of teenagers online talking about how they want to kill themselves. But they tag it as #suicide and #help, so they obviously want someone to listen to them and understand. So I've spent the evening messaging people on tumblr in case they want to talk about anything with a stranger, no judging.

It's very strange to me how whether or not someone's post is noticed online can affect whether or not they live.

It's super convenient having one sister who is also my best friend.

• I can say, "My best friend is my sister," and no one can ever get mad or jealous, because that's adorable.
• Instant future maid of honor. No tough decisions.
• Having just one means I don't have to choose between them.
• It's useful to hang out with her because then I can ignore a lack of a social life.
• I can do and say whatever I want around my best friend because she is biologically forced to love me unconditionally.

Once upon a time, my mother took me to a psychiatrist.

It's a pretty good story.

So, I was a very strange child (still am), and I got very seasick and carsick all the time. I also in trouble for  making a fuss about a lot of weird things. Then I realized when I got a little older that my symptoms weren't the same as seasickness or carsickness at all. I didn't feel sick; I felt anxious. I felt incredibly anxious when I saw or heard things moving, especially boats, swings, balloons, or anything that moves back and forth. I still do, actually. It's like something is annoying, except I feel passionately annoyed, disturbed, and anxious. I just want everything to stop.


When my mom realized I wasn't making things up (I was about 12 at the time), she told my pediatrician, which I begged her not to do. It's not exactly a health issue. And my doctor agreed. It was a mental issue. So he referred me to a psychiatrist.

That was a weird day. We went into the office, and everyone talks to you like they're being reeeeally careful. The doctor introduced himself, very carefully, and took my mom back to talk to her while I sat in the waiting room. I was a little offended. They gave me a questionnaire to fill out, and it was intense, both in sheer length and in content.

Do you often feel depressed?

Do you ever think that life's not worth living?

How often do think about death? 

They were all like that. As if the only psychological issue in children is depression. I put a lot of effort into that survey and started feeling pretty nervous about life by the time I was done. When the doctor called me back, he looked at it and said, "Oh. You didn't need to answer these."

Ineffectiveness points: 1

The doctor had my mom fill out a survey while he talked to me this time. There was a couch, but he had me sit in a chair. I described to him my problem, explaining how movement sometimes made me feel really anxious.

"Hmm." He looked a little confused.

"So," he said, "How does this make you feel?"

[Note: At this point my friends and I were obsessed with the comic strip "Pearls Before Swine," and there had been a running gag about psychiatrists in it lately with all the clichés, including the phrase "how does that make you feel?"]

I started smiling and nearly burst out laughing, but I fought the urge.

Things did not get better from there.

"Anxious," I said, patiently. "Really, really anxious. And annoyed."

"Yes, but how does that make you feel?" He started acting like a teacher whose trying to get his students to come up with the right answer.

I was confused. Apparently anxiety, the only word I had ever found to perfectly capture my feelings about this issue, did not count. I wasn't stupid. I knew what anxiety meant.

"Like...when something's moving, I just want everything to stop. I want to be in a place where there's no sound or movement."

After going back and forth about this for a while, he was clearly stumped.

"I want you to know that you're not the only person who has this problem. There are other people out there," he said, sounding like someone who has never heard of anyone else with this problem. "I'm going to give you a few tricks to cope with this, and we'll see how that works, ok? So, what I tell patients to do sometimes is have a mental vacation, some people call it going to their 'happy place'..."

I nearly lost it again.

"Just think of a place you like to be, perhaps the beach. Imagine all of the details, the sounds, the waves..."

Hello? Have you not been listening to what I have been explaining? I believe my exact words were "I want to be in a place where there's no sound or movement." But I was already tired of him, so I didn't protest.

"Another thing you can do is think of your irritation as a cloud, and watch it float past you."

What? First of all, how would that possibly help? And second of all, again, ENOUGH WITH THE MOVEMENT OF THINGS. Not helping.

Ineffectiveness points: In the double digits by now.

"...so try that, and before you go to bed at night, practice going to your happy place. And then let me know if things don't get better."

I indicated that his comments were helpful (they weren't), he looked pleased with himself, I said thank you, and then I walked out of there knowing very well that I would never contact him again, even though things wouldn't get better. It wasn't that big of a problem, anyway.

I figured out the problem and solution by myself. When my mind isn't very focused on anything, it makes up things to focus on to the point where that's all I can think about, and it's very unpleasant. But a combination of keeping myself mentally busy and just outgrowing it make it not that much of a problem nowadays. Whenever I'm driving a boat or a car, though, I kind of have to focus on things that are moving and it comes back.

I'm not against the psychiatric profession, though. Alright, alright, I am, but I'm sure there are some geniuses out there. Freud and Jung were pretty good I guess. But most of it is not any sort of definitive science, it's just people sitting around and guessing, and this episode definitely didn't change my mind.

Madagascar

Anyway, just because I'm not going to major in zoology doesn't mean I can't practice it at least a little before I graduate.

My AP Bio teacher in high school would, one day a year, show us slides from her study abroad trip to Africa in college. She always says that studying abroad in college is really important because you're never going to have the chance again. You'll have a family or a dog and a job and responsibilities that will prevent you from living a dream while your young, so you might as well do it now.

Because she's right and the Kratt brothers are both married and too old for me anyway, I've decided I'm going to go to Madagascar within the next couple of years. I found a study abroad program in Madagascar that has biology courses, biology courses taught in French, French courses, and introductory Malagasy courses as well as an independent study project, like observing lemurs. This is perfect for me. I have, and I am not exaggerating here, been fascinated with Madagascar's biodiversity since I was 5 years old. I have been taking French lessons since I was 6.*

The only problem is I'm pretty sure my university won't accept many, if any, of the credits. Plus 9 credits of study abroad are required for a French minor which is what I want to have. But even if I have to take spring and summer semesters and not have leftover money for grad school, I'm going to do it. Because this perfect an opportunity will not be available to me again.

*OK, back, that one's not as impressive as it sounds. My understanding of English grammar wasn't very complete at that age, so my French didn't progress much in that area either. Also, while my French teacher was a native, she wasn't a very rigorous teacher and most of our lessons involved learning the names of various animals she had stickers of and eating French candy. So my accent and intonation is fantastic, but my grammar and vocab is pretty much on par with your average French student. I do think I'm the only one who would much rather give a presentation in French than write an essay.

#daughterofanobstetricianproblems

I say "problems," but really, it's mostly benefits that are perceived by the rest of the population as potentially awkward or problematic. But it took me a long time to understand that having an obstetrician as your dad might be considered embarrassing. The whole having "the Talk" with my dad instead of my mom was a little very off-putting, but other than that, my father is most embarrassing when not representing his profession.

For example, one of his passions appears to be public yodeling. This is traumatizing for a preteen girl. Owning Yaz® sticky notes is not.

It's also not awkward when dinner conversation centers around the female reproductive system. It's not awkward when women come up to your mom and say, "I just love your husband!" It's not awkward when your teachers tell you they saw your dad the other day. It's not awkward when your dad can explain to you exactly what happens in the uterus during the menstrual cycle because of how hormones interact. No other parent could explain it better. And it's also not awkward when your dad explains how birth control pills regulate hormones so the periods can happen more smoothly and naturally and how they are the only known preventative measure against ovarian cancer. And it's not awkward when your dad explains to your little sister how politicians are turning abortion into an anti-feminist issue. It's not awkward when you listen to your dad talk in awe about what an infant being born must be experiencing, going from knowing nothing besides a dark, warm, small space, to being bombarded with all these sensations of light, space, and sounds and breathing a crying on its own for the first time.

I will say, I think the playlist for c-sections is a bit cheesy, but as long as your generation enjoys it, go for it.

It took me a long time to figure out that people other people might not think having a dad who specialized in female anatomy for a living was awesome, and by the time I did realize it, I didn't care what they thought anyway. There were a few friends who made fun and I let them, but I never could never really see things from their perspective. And there were a few non friends who did not have nice things to say on the subject. I may have been an incredibly insecure middle schooler, but I was never insecure on that topic. I've loudly discussed birth control in front of Catholic friends who made me confusedly promise not to tell anyone they were on it. These social taboos are stupid. Why can't we talk about this stuff? It's science and it's cool! I thought those pictures from my dad's surgery where he removed a ball of hair and teeth from someone's uterus was fascinating (it's called a teratoma) and I don't understand why other people didn't think so.

Oh, and to that boy in my 8th grade English class: You are not allowed to make fun of my dad. He is an amazing doctor who listens to patients, understands them at a surprisingly profound level, and helps them have better, healthier lives. He saves lives and brings new life into the world. He's delivered several of your friends and a few famous people's children that I'm not allowed to say because of patient-doctor confidentiality. He brings home huge chocolate cookies from the cafeteria and is very useful for AP Biology projects. I really don't think you have any grounds to make fun of him or anyone else who wants to be an obstetrician.

He's rather dyslexic and can't spell or pronounce anything, nor can he remember anyone's name,
so I suppose you can make fun of him for that. You can also get mad at him for sleeping through all of my concerts because he can't stay in one place for too long without falling asleep. He also gets irrationally angry at waiters and doesn't understand animal rights, which I get plenty angry at him for, so you don't need to. But overall he's really great and his profession is noble.

One time my dad kind of apologized for being an obstetrician. I was surprised. Being an obstetrician was great. Being a doctor was not so great. Why? Because people have no imagination. And so when you're dad's a doctor and you pay attention in school every single person has been telling me about my future career as a doctor. When I got glasses in 1st grade my teacher told me I looked like a doctor. When my 7th grade math teacher handed out awards to everyone, mine was "Future Doctor." Why? "Because she's smart, and, well..." (the sentence she didn't finish is that my dad delivered her baby 2 months earlier.) People have seemed legitimately offended when I answer, "Are you going to be a doctor?" with a forceful "No." One of the best compliments I ever got was a few weeks ago when I was visiting my old chemistry teacher and she said, "I can't see you as a doctor."

In case you're wondering, I want to be a scientist. From 2nd grade when I read about Jane Goodall watching a chicken for 4 hours when she was 4 years old until this past year, I wanted to be some sort of zoologist. Then I realized that I could never really feel like I was doing anything if I watched animals all day. And since ever single subject in biology aside from ecology is fascinating to me, I want to do something more molecular.

I think I should rename this blog "Tangents" because that's the only thing you'll be able to count on in these posts...

About Invisible Children and other charities

This is why my parents, and probably other adults, always get on edge when I bring up a social cause. Because I’m an emotional teenager frustrated that by all of the awful things in the world that I can’t change and I’ll throw myself into a movement. That’s what we teenagers and college students are famous for. 

And that drive is wonderful. Young people’s spirit drives revolutions and movements and great things throughout history have come from young people who hadn’t yet settled into the norms of society and were anxious to do things for the world. 

But the passion behind these movements is just the first step. It’s vital to the process to spread awareness and get the issue out there, get people angry, and get people motivated to do something about it.

Invisible Children is obviously really good at this part. They’re filmmakers, they make people aware. But there’s obviously more to a solution than just knowing about the problem. And sharing their video across the internet is fantastic. But if you’re going to donate, please be thoroughly researched in the matter. 50% of the Invisible Children’s programming budget goes to spreading awareness, not actually helping the Uganda situation, according to their website. And this isn’t 50% of the budget, this is 50% of the programming budget. So according to the numbers on this website, only 40% of what you donate to Invisible Children goes to help anything directly. So go to something like Invisible Children to find out about the problem, and then find ways to donate directly or more directly to where the problem is. (Their website says the Schools for Schools program gives 90% of donations directly to help improve education, but that campaign is “currently inactive.”) 

(This information is all what I’ve been able to find out on my own. I’ve also read from reliable and not reliable sources about transparency issues with Invisible Children (i. e., they won’t share the details of what they’re doing, which is suspicious), but I haven’t been able to find a primary source for any of these claims.)

This is the problem with popular charities. They become popular and stay popular for a reason, and that reason is money. It’s important to let people know that they can donate to cancer research, but if you want your money to be used solely to cure cancer, then donate directly to a facility that does this, not the American Cancer Society.

I’m not trying to attack these charities. I’m just worried that people will get caught up in the sensationalism of the message and forget to think about practical solutions. Because there’s another problem with charities, especially in Africa. Poor African countries are corrupt and obviously dangerous. Also, us first world countries have a habit of “helping” these people before we fully understand the root of the problem, the best solution, and how our proposed solution might backfire in an entirely different direction.

I need to do more research on all this, but my roommate has ordered me to go to bed and I think it’s a reasonable suggestion at 2 am on a school night. 

I’m going to have to catch up on so much homework tomorrow…