Thoughts by Hannah Michelle

It’s important to share your story. That sentence has kept popping up on my screens for the past few weeks.  Every time I’ve read it, I’ve felt a twinge of guilt.  As much as I preach against mental health stigmas, I still haven’t been completely open about my story.  I’m going to try to do so tonight. Backstory As many of you know, my father and aunt both died by suicide, about a decade apart.  After losing my dad in that way when I was 6, I started having problems.  These were problems I never really faced or dealt with.  I always pushed things aside and didn’t talk about them.  Of course, this was never a good plan.  Bottling up emotions only guarantees an eventual blow.  I never really knew about mental health or any actual diagnosable things until I was in high school. My freshman year of high school, I had my first panic attack.  I didn’t know what that was, and so I didn’t really do anything about it.  I started having them more throughout my sophomore year, when

One of my favorite things to do is to throw on a backpack, check out National Parks, and learn about different people and history of this country.  Today, I got to do this in my own state.  We were at the Homestead National Park in Beatrice, Nebraska for the eclipse events.  (Sadly, we didn’t get a bunch of time to see the Homestead history of the park, but we are planning on returning to check that out!)  As usual, I have a few points I want to talk about in this post, so feel free to scroll to the different topics. Racism One of the many cool things we saw today was a dance troupe from Winnebago, Nebraska called the Many Moccasins Dance Troupe.  Watching these different dances and hearing some of the stories and meanings behind these traditions were so interesting.  I love seeing different ways people assemble and live their daily lives, along with traditions and customs other cultures hold dear.  The entire time, I was reminded of my ignorance as a white person.  One of the

Last year about this time, I was starting at a university.  I moved into a dorm, excitedly anxious about the year and the life to come.  I spent the last weekend with my family, and moved in on a Sunday.  I met my roommate and began orientation.   The first night went as well as expected at a college where I didn't have friends.   The next day, however? I felt wrong.  SO VERY WRONG.  I didn't want to be at a university.  I didn't want to live in a dorm.  I didn't want to have to drive an hour and a half to see my sister and dog and mom.  I didn't want to shower in a dorm with just a tiny curtain.  I didn't want to study music education.   It wasn't that I wasn't mature enough to move out.  It wasn't that I wanted to go back to high school (I barely wanted to be there as a freshman).  It wasn't any factor that meant I was weak, immature, or any less than anyone else.   I just wasn't where I was meant to be.   Any amount