Tracy wrote this in January of her junior year; it is just one of the numerous journal entries she has composed since she began cutting herself as a high school freshman.  Now 20 years old, Tracy admits that at times she still feels the urge to cut and sometimes she does.  From the beginning, it was never just one thing that led her to cut, but rather a build up of insecurities.

Her father was physically and verbally abusive in her early childhood.  “We still didn’t have a very good relationship,” Tracy said.  “I was worried about schoolwork, about fitting in, about my friends, about sports, about my parents, about my father hating me.”

Tracy’s sophomore English teacher first approached her about the growing number of cuts on her arms.  At the time, Tracy would always give a simple explanation, such as “I was carrying wood in for the woodstove” or “my cat scratched me.”  Over the course of the year, however, Tracy had established a trusting relationship with her teacher. 

One day after school in early April, Tracy’s teacher asked if the cuts were self-inflicted.  Turned away from her, Tracy said, “Maybe.”  While she never would have sought help on her own accord, Tracy realized in this moment that someone deeply cared for her.  “I remember the look of disappointment in her eyes that quickly disappeared, and became one of compassion,” she said.  “I very nearly told her my entire life in a nutshell, and she simply sat there and listened for almost two hours.”

When she told Tracy it was her official responsibility as a teacher to tell someone, Tracy was terrified.  “I didn’t want my parents to know, my guidance counselor, the nurse…I didn’t want anyone to know other than her,” she said.  “I kept trying to tell her that it was okay, that I would be okay, that my parents didn’t have to know.”

But within the week, Tracy agreed that she would find a way to tell her parents.  When she did, her teacher would be by her side.  “It took me a few minutes, but I managed to finally spit the words out.  ‘I’ve been cutting myself.’  They were blunt, and seemed more painful to say than it actually was to split my skin open with a knife.” 

In telling her parents, she also agreed to seek professional help.  But after seeing her primary care physician and a psychiatrist, Tracy continued to resist.  Her parents looked elsewhere for additional guidance.  Talking about her personal experiences with someone she knew was hard enough without having to tell a complete stranger too.

Ultimately, Tracy was required to meet with a psychologist on a weekly or bi-weekly basis.  While she would continue to hold back, she eventually discovered that her therapy sessions contained some value.  “I liked that [my therapist] didn’t judge me, and that she never told me to stop,” she said.  “She understood that it was more of an addiction than a simple act that I could be pulled away from.”

Today, Tracy feels that she has progressed, but is not yet able to move beyond her experiences.  She believes that all she can do is her best to cope with the problems and urges to cut as they arise.  Tracy also finds solace in supporting others who have dealt with similar struggles by encouraging them to seek and accept help.

“I admit that I have lost parts of me, and that I can’t get them back.  As awful as some of my experiences have been, I can’t go back and change them, and I wouldn’t if I could,” she said.  “Because of this, I can help other people.  But I remember what it is like to not have anyone to talk to, or anyone who truly understands, and that is what I have been trying to give other people.”

Although it is often times kept covered up eating disorders are a problem among college students all over the nation. It is estimated that eight million Americans have an eating disorder. Out of this, seven million of them are female and one million are male (SCDMH). Franklin Pierce University barely addresses the issue or provides students with these diseases a place to go in comfort.

“I don’t think this school really cares about eating disorders among students because the only resource they have for them would be health services and I feel like they would not feel comfortable enough to go there. It’s a really tough issue especially if you’re seeking help,” said sophomore Christa Naso.

(photo: www.s-o-ess.at/en/1_S-O-Ess_goesUSA.html)

Health Services is a place where students can go at Franklin Pierce to receive more information on organizations such as Overeaters Anonymous, have their questions and concerns answered and get the proper care.

Having an eating disorder does not mean you are diagnosed with one specific disease. There are various types of eating disorder such as anorexia nervosa, binge eating disorder, and bulimia nervosa.

According to the National Eating Disorder Association, anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa are both defined as serious and potentially life-threatening disorders. The differences are that anorexia entails the person starving themselves to the point where they start achieving excessive weight loss. Bulimia on the other hand, is when a person eats a lot and then causes themselves to vomit. The NED defined Binge Eating Disorder and stated, “binge eating without the regular use of compensatory measures to counter the binge eating.” This means that a person eats an extreme amount and instead of throwing up they just continue to eat.

When asked what exactly Franklin Pierce should do to improve resources for students with eating disorders Naso said, “Again, I’m not sure if anyone would want to put themselves out there like that, but maybe an anonymous blog on the Franklin Pierce school website or a suggestion box where the answers on how to seek treatment are pinned up next to it like they used to have entering the cafeteria, that way the people who really want help will be able to get the information.”

According to the South Carolina Department of Mental Health “eating disorders have the highest mortality rate out of any illness and 20% of people suffering from anorexia will prematurely die from complications related to their eating disorder including suicide and heart problems” (SCDMH).

To get help visit nationaleatingdisorders.org or call their toll free information/referral helpline at 1-800-931-2237. You can also talk to someone you trust can assist you in finding the right treatment facility for you.

He doesn’t remember the first time he took drugs, although he does recall it being sometime during his sophomore or junior year of high school. He knows the reason behind it was simple- to have fun. “This girl that I was chillin’ with…she had parties all day…she had an older sister who was into drugs and she was prescribed Klonopins and Adderall. We would stay up and drink and take all these Adderalls and black out and stay up for hours. And then she would just feed me Klonopins. I’d wake up hung-over and she would just give me more. I’d be like a zombie all day.”

But when ecstasy was introduced into his circle at the end of his junior year, he switched from the downers and claims he fell in love, admitting to taking ecstasy at least 50 times before school resumed in the fall. 

Despite his habitual drug-use, his parents remained unaware. “They just kind of thought ‘boys will be boys, let him go out.’ I’d come home in the morning and I’d look like shit, but they just thought I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

Because of his wild summer, he showed up for his last season of football out of shape and completely unprepared. “I did all the double sessions, all the pre-season, and the first exhibition game, and then I quit.”

While he has mixed feelings now about his decision to quit, at the time being off the team was an excuse to continue having fun during his senior year. Painkillers returned to his repertoire, and he found himself sneaking out of class to snort pills in the bathroom. “This was my senior year, and I figured I had nothing left to lose. I had gotten into college, I was set.”

When he arrived at Franklin Pierce he describes a new phase of his drug use, trying cocaine for the first time, and continuing with heavy drinking and use of prescription pills. By the time he reached sophomore year, however, he felt he had grown out of the ‘drug scene,’ and cut back on his use. “Everyone was loving rolling, and I was like, I’ve been doing this for four years now, I’m over it.”

But when his cell phone vibrated on one morning in May, everything started to spin out of control. On the other end of the line was his mother, who broke the news that his father had been having an affair. The next time he heard from his dad, it was only to deliver more devastating news. “He left me a voicemail saying my grandmother had died. When I went home for the wake…that was the first time I did oxycontin. I knew my boys had been selling them, and we were in the basement and we just did it all. Your whole body just feels absolutely amazing.”

Once he returned to Franklin Pierce he continued taking oxycontin, sometimes ditching class to take the hour-and-a-half drive home if he couldn’t find any in the area. “I kept doing them, and doing them,” he said. “And it was all I could think about.”

His mental addiction was soon accompanied by dope-sickness, and the weakness in his body made getting out of bed in the morning a struggle. “I’ll wake up and feel like I just ran the Boston Marathon.”

When his girlfriend of a year discovered the reality of his addiction this past January, the spiral of alcohol, marijuana, and painkillers came to a halt. “I don’t think I do or will ever know the full extent of his addiction,” she said. “Finding out was like a wave of crazy emotions all at the same time and I felt like there was no one I could depend on.”

A relationship with drugs or a relationship with her was the ultimatum he received. “She said it’s the pills or me. The second she told me to stop taking pills I immediately stopped,” he said. But he still was experiencing the pain of physical and mental withdrawals, which continues to occur.

For now, he hopes he can continue on the path of recovery without clinical help. “I can get over this. I hope I never have to hit rock bottom. But being honest with myself, it’s hard to admit that I have such a weakness for this. I think things are going to work out…but I’m on thin ice.”

Steve used to love everything about his home- from its quiet neighborhood location to the spacious yard where he would host family barbeques. He prided himself on the pristine condition of his lawn and enjoyed nothing more than lounging on his patio in the morning with a cup of black coffee and a newspaper in hand.

But when a significant flood in the spring of 2006 left his yard resembling a swimming pool, he knew that something wasn’t quite right. As he watched the water recede from neighboring yards, his remained flooded. “The city officials told me that there were beavers in the woods behind the house,” he said. “I knew there was a drain at the end of the street because I would walk by and see the water running through the pipe, but the beavers were clogging it.”

The city installed a cage in the front of the drain, which would allow water to flow through without the beavers blocking the pipe, but the beavers worked around the barrier, making it impossible for water to drain.

So, for three years without fail, fifty-nine year old Steve has trudged down to the end of the street to the drainage pipe where he rakes the muck, sticks, and leaves from the clogged cage. In the summer heat, the mosquitoes and flies that thrive in the murky water leave his skin itchy and irritated. Some days he clears the drain while rain beats down onto his back, making the mud underneath him slippery and unsafe, which once resulted in a rusty rod from the cage gashing his hand. Sometimes he returns home so drained of energy that he is too exhausted to do the things he actually enjoys, like going to the YMCA or jogging at Kenoza Lake.

“It’s a significant stressor,” Steve said, “It’s become a quality of life issue. It’s a laborious task that I’m tired of doing.”

Steve has been in touch with the city constantly for the last three years regarding this issue. While they do help when they can, their numerous tasks make it hard to frequently return to the drainage issue. Steve’s neighbors, who have also experienced flooding in their yards, rely on his relentless determination, leaving him alone in his battle.

The recent March flooding has only been more of a burden on Steve. Stepping into the water-filled cellar requires a pair of galoshes, and in the backyard the old, gray doghouse, once home to the family’s golden retriever, now houses mallards, who dip in and out, welcoming their new pond.

“I’m at the point where I can’t do this anymore: it’s too much for me. I used to like to sleep in my bedroom and listen to the drizzling rain, but now all I can think about when I hear it is how much my yard is going to flood and all of the work I’m going to have to do.”

“It bothers him so much,” his wife, Gail, admits. “He walks down to the end of the street with his head hanging low like the weight of the world is on his shoulders every morning.”

So, despite the fact that he’s deeply saddened by leaving the home he has loved for the last 27 years, Steve has decided that during the upcoming year there will be a new addition to his water-logged yard: a for sale sign.

by Elizabeth Squire

“Well, first the gyno felt my tits,” Kayla says matter of factly. The doctor felt lumps in her breasts. At just 18 years old Kayla Talmadge had tumors in both her breasts.

Kayla likes to tell people she’s 5 feet but that’s still a stretch when she’s pushing 4’11. Still miniature in her chunky heels you wouldn’t think Kayla was intimidating, but don’t let her small size fool you. Kayla knows what she wants and stands up for herself. In seventh grade an eighth grade girl spilled water on Kayla at a school dance to be mean, most girls would call their mom for a ride, Kayla grabbed a water and poured it over the girl’s head.

“I cried in the doctors office when they told me I had to have surgery, I asked if my mom could come in, she started crying too,” The doctors all stressed a harrowing urgency to Kayla so appointments with surgeons to operate and remove the tumors were made right away. “ The first surgeon we talked to wouldn’t do the surgery because I was too young, I thought he was going to cry the whole time he was talking to us, it was strange,” Kayla said. Before the surgery Kayla met with doctors around the clock where doctors took pictures and drew on her to prep for surgery but Kayla said the mammogram was the worst part, “ They squeezed my boob so hard! I never want to get one again!”

The surgeon Kayla choose cleared all his appointments to operate. Kayla was brought into a little white room and dressed in a gown before the doctors came in to draw where the incisions would be made. They inserted the IV and put her out. “I wanted only my mom and dad to come with me to the hospital, I was so nervous but happy the day was here and I could get it over with,” Kayla said.

After the surgery Kayla was out of high school recovering for three weeks.  “I wouldn’t have told anyone if I didn’t have to but people would ask where I was when I was out.  How do you tell someone both your ta-ta’s had tumors during gym class, it was weird to talk about.”

Once the tumors were removed Kayla was already scheduled to be back in the hospital for reconstructive surgery soon after her 19th birthday. Kayla felt one breast was noticeably bigger than the other. “ They look better now after the surgery but I don’t like all the scars, I think they’re ugly.”

Kayla turned 20 this October and began working in a salon two days a week doing manicures and pedicures and hopes to start her career as a hairdresser soon. While all her friends were getting ready for college after high school, Kayla stayed home looking at hair dressing academies. “ I knew school wasn’t for me, I had a hard time in high school and this is what I always wanted to do.”

The doctors told Kayla she has a good chance of getting more tumors. Thankfully, the tumors removed from Kayla’s breasts were benign but she says, “ If I had to get surgery again I would tell the doctors to take it all off and give me fake boobs,” she said laughing. You can tell she’s completely serious though, she knows what she wants.

Brittany, 21 years old, had been lying on her bed, attempting to download an episode of “The Office” on her laptop.  When the earthquake first hit, Brittany’s bed jolted forward one foot, where it stopped for a split second before slamming into the wall behind her.  Brittany was catapulted off her bed and into the opposite wall 14 feet away.   

“I thought the world was ending, but wondered why Jesus hadn’t taken me up to heaven yet…definitely a gut check time,” she said.  “We were completely surrounded by the sound of a city being brought down to a pile of rubble within a couple minutes.”

Following the initial earthquake, Brittany helped save 20 orphans from the Maranatha Children’s Home, where she had been volunteering since September 2009.  While survivors rushed out onto the streets for safety, Brittany returned to the shaking houses, where she dodged falling debris, broken glass, and bursting pipes in hopes of saving the orphans and nannies.

After moving to a location a mile outside of Port-au-Prince, however, Brittany realized one child had been overlooked:  five month old Amelia. On her trip back to the orphanage, Brittany tried to prepare herself for the worst. 

Enduring aftershocks every five to ten minutes, Brittany worked alone for almost two hours trying to locate the baby.  Fallen stacks of rubber containers, which had once held food and supplies, were her main barrier as she desperately fought to create a path that would lead her to Amelia.  When Brittany finally located her, she was lying facedown in her playpen, motionless.  In picking her up, Brittany was in disbelief; Amelia had started giggling.  For Brittany it was a miracle, an assurance that God’s hand had shielded them from the disaster.

Since the summer of 2006, Brittany has made several trips to Haiti, caring for orphans in Port-au-Prince and the surrounding area.  “She has a real burden for Haiti,” said Karen Gilbert, Brittany’s mom.  “She is not settled unless she is there.”

Illness and fatigue are a part of Brittany’s everyday life in Haiti.  During the fall of 2009, Brittany contracted malaria twice as well as dengue fever.  In the week following the earthquake, Brittany fainted from exhaustion.  She recalls that the nannies were so worried they splashed her with water, fearing she might be dead.

Since the earthquake Brittany battles post-traumatic stress.  In her attempts to move forward, Brittany is still confused and overwhelmed by the past.  “It turned my world upside down and made me question all absolutes…It’s tough to grow; it’s tough to be stretched, but ultimately it’s a gift.  We should all cling to the times that bring us closer to God and strengthen our relationship with him, even if those times are the hardest you’ve ever faced.”

In March Brittany returned to Haiti to continue her work with Heartline Ministries, after being home just a short time following the earthquake.  Currently, she is caring for David, a five and a half month old, and Melodie, a two and a half year old, two children the Gilbert family is in the process of adopting. 

“The Haitian government is very unstable and corrupt right now, which has brought in help from organizations like UNICEF that have put up a lot of red tape at the U.S. Embassy,” she said.  “Unfortunately we have no idea when our kids could get out.  It could be next week, it could be next year.  For the children’s and my family’s sake, I’m praying it’s very soon.”

KF: What made you choose Franklin Pierce?

AG: I initially wanted to become an archaeologist, and I saw that Franklin Pierce had an excellent program for anthropology; plus I had never been to New England. I’m originally from Hoboken, New Jersey, but I’ve been to three different continents, mostly South America. In fact, I missed orientation freshman year because I was on a tour in Europe for a month.

KF: What is your major and minor?

AG: I major in Mass Communications with a concentration in journalism, and I am also an Advertising minor. I am a snob when it comes to journalism; I wish that more editorials were sarcastic and had more humor. I think that is what is lacking in today’s world.

KF: What are your favorite hobbies?

AG: Guitar, clarinet, drums, piano, and violin. My mother was a singer, so I grew up in recording studios, but she never allowed me to play or listen to music, so I taught myself out of spite (I got kicked out of band in high school for disliking the conductor’s song choices and adding my own aesthetic value). 

KF: What are your plans for after graduation?

AG: I would love to work for National Geographic later in life, but first at a magazine in either New York City, Chicago, or Seattle writing sarcastic words and getting paid for it.

KF: How do you spend down time?

AG: I enjoy expressionist painting, reading short stories written by Miranda July and those like her, and the Opera. While writing I listen to jazz and classical music for inspiration.

KF: What is an interesting fact most people don’t know about you?

AG:  While visiting Seaside Heights Beach in my youth, I was resuscitated back to life after drowning (basically I died and came back to life).

She was thrown backwards and within seconds her legs trapped beneath the riding lawnmower her mother was driving.  Four year old Bianca LaPointe had tripped on the third step leading into her home.  At the precise moment of the lawnmower’s approach, her feet had slid out from under her.

That hot spring afternoon Bianca had run around her yard imagining herself as the butterfly from Alice in Wonderland, her preschool’s play.  Now all she could do was scream.  The lawnmower refused to turn off.

“If it wasn’t for my mother’s ability to keep her head in the situation I am certain I would not be alive today,” said Bianca, now a college senior.

Flown in a Lifestar helicopter to Hartford Children’s Hospital, Bianca had her right foot partially amputated.  Post-surgery the entire inside of her foot was missing, from her second toe up to her ankle.  With three toes left, Bianca was told by doctors that her chances of walking normally again were slim.

“Because I was so young, I didn’t want to take it as an answer.  I didn’t listen,” said Bianca.  “At home I took my braces off when I wasn’t supposed to.  I forced myself to walk without crutches.”

During multiple surgeries over a two year period, Bianca’s right leg was reconstructed at Boston Children’s Hospital.  Doctors replaced calf muscle with abdominal muscle, “rewired” tendons in Bianca’s foot, and inserted a screw to help stabilize her ankle.  Through an intensive physical therapy program, she slowly learned how to redistribute her weight.

“My family was a huge support to me throughout this ordeal, but throughout my life I think what motivated me the most was my desire to not be seen as someone with a disadvantage.”

As a young girl who participated in horseback riding, softball, basketball, and tennis, Bianca said, “[My injury] made me more apt at sports because I was more determined than the other kids.”

“I just did as much as I could, and I didn’t use my injury as an excuse.  Working a little harder just became apart of my life.”

But forced to compensate, Bianca admits her childhood accident makes her more prone to injury and medical complications.  In middle school, growth plate surgery in Bianca’s left leg halted its development for a year allowing the right leg time to catch-up.  In college, Bianca’s tennis season is at a standstill due to tendentious in her right leg.  “I am concerned for this season because I have already missed two matches, and my injury is one that can re-occur if it is not fully healed when I return.”

On a normal day, strangers would never guess her struggle.  Until recently, her roommates did not know either.  “People can’t tell unless they see it or I tell them.  My most common responses are “Did it hurt?” “Do you remember it?” and probably the most common “Can I see it?”

Living in a 30 by 30 foot tent with 17 different personalities can be stressful. But Melissa Koszer didn’t sweat it, because belting out the song “Why Can’t We be Friends?” could usually always put a smile on her tent-mates faces.

Raised in Brooklyn, N.Y, Melissa prides herself on being bona fide city girl- so she surprised friends, family, and even herself when she decided to sign up for a semester abroad walking through four European countries.

Despite her fears about being fully absorbed in nature (even claiming her biggest fear was having to ‘pop-squats’ outside) Melissa stayed true to the challenge and strived to lead the pack. “It was like my mind and body were sponges and I just wanted to absorb everything around me,” she said. “I didn’t keep a closed mind. I was open to everything and everyone, and I think the people that I walked appreciated that and also followed that lead.”

When she wasn’t reflecting on the forested trails of the “El Camino de Santiago” trail routes of Northern Spain, or making foreign friends, like three 70-year-old Canadian travelers, Melissa shared her food, sleeping space, and ultimately her privacy residing in the at times cramped white tent.

Melissa has maintained strong friendships with a handful of the walk students, and credits the experience for making her into a more accepting person. “I was living with different personalities, so of course we clashed a lot.”

“She was a mediator,” her co-walker Sylvia Korza reflects. “She was so different than she was before, because on the walk she didn’t let things phase her. She was calm and really tried to get along with everyone.”

So conflicts like one boy breaking her Swiss army knife or Melissa accidentally losing her friend’s camera were dismissed when she would set out on her daily 16-mile journey. “I would walk alone, and afterwards I would be fine,” she said. “I had to learn to have patience with other people in a very short period of time, and it has definitely made me a much calmer, more Zen person.”