COVID Guilt and Other Things That Should Be Added to the Warning Label For This Global Pandemic

When this whole Coronavirus thing started shutting down the planet back in March, I thought the worst part was the illness for those that caught it and the cancelations for everyone else. I thought the worst part would be losing graduation or God-forbid, my job at Disney.

I was naive. 

After being confirmed positive for COVID-19 and going through my isolation, I have realized COVID-19 has a lot more going on than anyone tells you about from the outside. 

The worst part of the rona isn't the fever or needing to sleep for a week straight. The worst part is what I have been calling COVID Guilt. This is the guilt that I just can't shake because I live at home and my diagnosis affected so many more people than myself. This virus attacks your conscience and makes you wonder who you exposed and what you should be doing differently. Even when you do everything you are told, you still start to wonder. You start to see something wrong in everything you do, even when you think you are doing all of the right things. There is no clear "right" thing once the COVID enters your home or lungs. And that's not an easy thing to recognize.

The part that kills me is that even after I have started feeling better, my family is still under lock and key for 14 days to ensure that they didn't contract it from me as I left my room to shower or go to the bathroom. Each day counted as their new exposure date even though I wore a mask to go to the shower and rarely left my room except to go sit outside, far away from anyone. 

My sickness didn't just mean that I couldn't work or even leave my room for a week. The fever before I was even tested meant my youngest brother had to miss one of his few national basketball tournaments for the year. He claims he is okay but I know he was excited to play with this new team. He also couldn't go on his church camp trip because I had tested positive. 

Those two weeks suck, to be frank, because I can go live life. I can now go to the grocery store and get hamburger buns and ranch dressing. But since I brought this disease into my house, my family can't leave still. They could still potentially start showing symptoms at any moment because I was around someone that gave me these germs. That hurts. 

The guilt also comes when I am asked when my date of onset was. I am not entirely sure when my symptoms started because I shook off a sore chest for about a week, thinking it was anxiety. I even had a new prescription waiting for me. But... it just didn't feel like anxiety. I am truly glad I hadn't started that new pill thinking it would solve my problems. 

But since I thought I was told and believed for a few days that my chest pain was anxiety, I wasn't taking the right safety measures for those around me. I went to work, I went to the lake to run, I lived life until I couldn't anymore. 

The guilt hits there, too. Once my test came back positive, I called my workplace and told my management what was going on. As a safety protocol the store closed for professional cleaning and for the coworkers I was in direct contact with to quarantine. This meant that at least 7 of my coworkers and friends didn't take home a paycheck last week. That kills my heart. A week is a long time- a lot of hours. I just have to remind myself almost hourly that I didn't do this on purpose and I am learning through all of this. (Ya know, between naps and listening to T-Swift's new album.)

Other than the guilt, there have been other things to learn during this illness and taking my turn during the global pandemic. Here are a few of my findings:

1. Having a support system as wonderful as mine is super helpful when you can't leave your house. I have been blown away by the people who have reached out or brought things over for us. And even more people that have offered to bring us things that we couldn't think of a list for- I appreciate each and every one of you. The generosity toward my household has been a true blessing. 

2. There are more symptoms for COVID than I have ever thought possible. The tight and sore chest is not something to ignore. I truly wish I would have known that. But it isn't on the list of things to be on the lookout for, so I figured I was in the clear until that fever hit. 

3. People who think COVID is fake or who are refusing to follow safety precautions are the most selfish individuals I think live in this country. It is a super sucky virus and it has destroyed plans, but putting on that piece of cloth can change everything. When I see things now that people post about this virus not mattering or flat out refusing to listen to the Dept. of Health or any doctor, I get genuinely pissed off. Please do not be one of those people. I was lucky to stay relatively healthy through all of this. So many other people are not in that position. Save your grandma, wear a mask. 

4. Retesting for that negative result isn't as easy as it sounds. I wanted to retest for many reasons, including to know I wasn't contagious and could live life amongst the living again. I learned that isn't really a possibility. Because my symptoms have improved, I have quarantined and I haven't had a fever in a week, I am not contagious anymore. But if I tested, it will likely come back as positive for the next three months. That would put my whole household into a tailspin. 

5. The world can be very "corporate" when it comes to this virus. Everyone wants each person fighting it to fit into the right protocol. Well, that is not possible. It's not black and white-- at all. So this virus takes a lot of grace and understanding. Sometimes you have to remind people of that one. 

6. This virus shows you who is on your side through the thick of it. I have seen so many kind messages from people who are truly riding this out with me from far apart. That means the world to me. But it has also been interesting to see who doesn't say anything or check-in. Because, when it comes down to it, those that haven't reached out speak the loudest. 

7. This virus is real. The stories are true. Anyone can get it. 

'I'm not going to UNL, that's too cliche' and other ironies

It's the night before graduation and it is nothing like I'd planned. Instead of heading to Fuzzy's, Iggy's and Junction to party one last time with my friends, I am laying in bed in Papillion thinking about the last four years.



Here's what I've realized...

When I was a senior in high school, I thought I just had to get out of Nebraska if I wanted to experience anything fun or different in college. Well, now that I have finished my senior year I know that senior in high school Christa was naive.

She thought being a Husker would be boring. She didn't want to just be a face in the crowd or a number on a graph.

She wanted to make a million memories and she wanted to live a life worth other people remembering.

And she thought that couldn't happen at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln because she would be "just another girl from Nebraska going to UNL."

Then the email came offering her the Buffett Scholarship and everything changed.

Now that I have been through my four years at UNL, I can say with pride that I did make a million wonderful memories. I did leave lasting impacts on people. And I know people will remember who I was on UNL's campus.

I give credit for this to the William H. Thompson Learning Community that helped me establish friendships and connections on campus, The Daily Nebraskan for letting me become a true reporter, The DailyER for letting me remind everyone of how funny I am, Husker athletics for letting me be the fan in the student section I always knew I was meant to be, and UNL Housing for allowing me to grow into myself through my role as a resident assistant.

My mentor group, The DN and DailyER fam, Husker football, and Smith 8 will live in my memory and heart forever.

I realized while on campus that you're only a cliche if you let yourself become one. You're only a number if you live like one. And you're only forgotten if you don't do anything worth remembering.

Another irony I found through my years on campus was how often my professors in the College of Journalism told me to stop worrying so much about classes and grades because it was my experience that mattered. These words of advice were always given with pure intentions, but I saw it as a challenge more than anything. I wanted to graduate with some sort of honors, just like I had in high school. I was told these honors only existed for those in the Honors program, which I did not find beneficial.

Well, now that COVID-19 has come and messed up graduation, students are each given a slide to show we completed our degree. Mine says "Christa Rahl Bachelor of Journalism from the College of Journalism and Mass Communication High Distinction."



I'm proud to say I have graduated with a 3.96 g.p.a. and have written over 100 stories for the school newspaper, not including my work on The DailyER and was a three-year RA.

Only my family and close friends will remember that feat, but it's important to me and I hold it near and dear to my heart.

I have also found it funny and ironic that I am graduating with my degree in Journalism but I don't want to be a reporter anymore. But here's what I have worked through about this- I don't have to want to be a reporter.

That sounds simple but it took my months to get it through my head. Instead of taking my skills to a newsroom, I will take it a different career path that I can fact-check, dig deeper to find answers, and truly talk to people.

These things are important and honestly pretty rare. So I will allow myself to enjoy whatever's coming without worrying that I should just send myself down the reporter route knowing full well that I would hate it.

It was also ironic that Baby Christa was afraid of being a face in the crowd but wanted to hang out in Memorial Stadium each Saturday with 90,000 of her closest friends.

But the thing is, even there, I wasn't just a face.

I made it a goal to get to the front row of the east side student section just as soon as I found out it was possible for underclassmen.

From then on, I stood in my corner by the band and made friends with the other maniacs that agreed that an 11 a.m. kickoff meant we should get to the stadium by 5:30 or 6.

Those people weren't just faces, they became friends and connections to the rest of campus.

The irony and pure Husker magic goes a bit further to the fact that while I was "just another student in the student section," I also made it on the big screen for seemingly every game. I was on TV cheering for my team often enough that it became a drinking game for people to spot me at home.

I never thought that would happen. I never thought I would have friends only turn on the game to see if they could pinpoint me. But I never thought any of these amazing things would happen.

UNL has a magic about it. The Huskers are special. I want you all to know that. And the magic is everywhere.

It reached to CoJMC where I somehow did well in all of my classes regardless of realizing I didn't want to be a reporter.

It reached to The DN office when I decided as a freshman that I could handle five stories in one week (I swear I died three times that week).

And it reached to Smith Hall when I thought the whole building would burn down eventually and somehow it is still standing. (I did have my marshmallows ready for the fire pit, though. Thanks Liv!)

Smith Hall was a special place that I will probably talk about forever. I will dedicate more blogs to my life as an RA than anything else because that building and everything that went down inside shaped me into who I am today.

The magic was most evident when I came back for Year 3. I had been warned that the third year of being an RA was the hardest. I had a new boss, new residents and my best friends on staff would not be there anymore. Plus the previous year was a verified sh*t show. We can all admit that.

But the magic came when my new RD allowed me to be myself, have time for self-care and gave me the resources I needed to have confidence I could handle 48 more girls.

The magic extended into each of those 48 new residents I had in my last year. These girls trusted me in their hardest times and brought me into some of the most fun I've had on campus.

This is not to say I had a favorite floor because each year offered me something special, but the third year was magical because I needed it to be.

All of these things together became my Husker experience. Each moment made an impact. Each relationship taught me something new. And each memory made me realize UNL is special and there's nothing wrong with being a girl from Nebraska going to Lincoln.

An Open Letter from a 2020 College Senior

I finished my degree yesterday. I took my last exam and then I was done. I had nothing left academically to do before I would be allowed to walk the stage and hear my name.

"Christa Rahl: Journalism."

Those three words probably don't speak the volumes to you that they do to me. To me, they shout victory over reporting classes that I hated, editing classes that I loved and modules that started with 130 that made me cry.

Those words remind me that the University of Nebraska-Lincoln has been my home for four years. They allow me to reminisce on how much I have truly grown in those short years. It feels like forever ago that I was the president of Harper Hall just fighting to put some twinkle lights in the trees. It feels like ages ago that I got the email telling me I was hired as a Smith RA. It feels like a separate lifetime ago that I first met my professors that made my college the best on UNL's campus.

I had a professor with a Pulitzer that made fun of me for always fighting for my A in the class (but he gave it to me anyway). I had an instructor that saw herself in me and knew that sometimes that means I need some brownies to go with my mental breakdowns. I had an instructor that had interviewed anyone who was anyone and claimed she didn't like Trump because of his cologne.

I had a remarkable time at UNL and getting my degree from the College of Journalism and Mass Communications. But I won't hear those words this May. I won't decorate my cap with a Hamilton lyric or a T-Swift quote.

Instead, I will sit on my couch in my cap and a dress of some sort and watch my chancellor confer my degree from 45 miles away.

That breaks my heart.

College was a great time. I loved meeting my residents each year, I loved learning from those remarkable teachers but I also loved having a little fun on the side.

If you would have told me this past August that the night before I graduated college I wouldn't be dancing my bootie off at Junction, I would have blamed in on Housing. Nobody would have guessed it would be because a deadly virus decided to take over the world.

So I am missing the closure. The last time I saw my friends, I didn't say much of a goodbye because I didn't know I would need to. Now it's been almost a month since I have even left my house in Papillion.

College friends are the best. You meet them when you need them and they stick around through the thick of it because we're all going through college and the crap it throws at us together. I love the people I have grown close to in college because they've seen me at every stage.

The girls I met and got close to in college watched me fall in love, have my heart broken and then become who I am today. They have hung out with me at the bar and at the library because balance is important. But I thought I would be able to thank them and tell them how proud that they grew with me. But instead I went home on April 10 and never came back.

I will go back to my campus. I will take my graduation pictures. I may even go get my master's degree at some point. But nothing will compare to how shallow and empty this ending is for my bachelor's degree in Journalism. And I hate that.

A Note From an RA About Working at Home

When you think of your college Resident Assistant you probably have one of two thoughts. They were either a certified nark or you found it hilarious that they partied right there with you.

Well, there's a lot that RAs do other than bust your parties and tell you to study more.

I was an RA at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln on campus for 2.67 years and am finishing my semester as a virtual RA from my parents' house.

So I know a thing or two about the job.

One of the hardest parts of being an RA to get used to is the lack of a separation between work and home. As an RA your work is your home and your home is your work. So now that the world has been flipped and working at home has become the necessity for majority of the globe, I thought I would share some tips and tricks to navigating this weird world.

1. Dedicate different spots in your home for work and lazy times. For me, this meant I had a desk for working on classwork, a certain chair I sat on for roommate conflicts and I lofted my bed to keep it out of mind while I was working. This helped my brain separate my job from my school work from my time to relax. For you, this could mean having a spot in the living room to do your work and Zoom meetings that's separate from where you typically watch Netflix and eat Cheeto's. If your mind has already associated the place you plan to work from with a place to be lazy, it will take a lot of work to restructure your subconscious.

2. Move spots when you change tasks. For example, I would talk to residents on my futon for intentional interactions, log them on my laptop at my desk and then move to a different part of the couch to veg for a little bit. This seems like a small detail, but it trains your brain to realize when you're working and when you can play Candy Crush for the next hour. You don't want to have those places overlap.

3. Monitor how long you are working. This can be hard since you are never really told to stop working anymore. It's always there and always staring at you, making you think you haven't accomplished enough. This is not true. You probably have accomplished enough!! There tends to always be more to do, but you don't always have to do it. That leads to Number Four.

4. Make a daily to-do list every morning. This will help you boost your productivity because it will keep your mind on what lies ahead. The key to this tip is being realistic about what you plan to do with your day. By now you likely know how to prioritize your tasks so that you do your work based on what needs done and by when. Take a look at your week and break down bigger projects so a massive deadline doesn't have you up all night the night before it's due. Then, once you have accomplished what's on your daily list, get up and do something that isn't your job. On the flip side, if you feel you haven't done enough with your day by the time you would typically be coming home, forgive yourself and let yourself finish the next day. Unless there is a major deadline or you can finish it within 15 minutes, it can wait. I promise.

5. Take breaks. This is a healthy practice no matter where you're working, but being burnt out at home just sucks in a different way. Don't let yourself get to the point of burnout by taking extra care of yourself during this pandemic. Self-care should be a priority, especially now. So be sure to get outside and enjoy the sun or read a book or take a nap. Whatever you need to do every few hours will help you in the long run.

6. DO NOT DO YOUR WORK ON YOUR BED. Research has proven this is not a good idea.

7. Be nice to yourself. These are unprecedented times, so treat yourself like you would a younger you or a best friend.

If you have questions about what this RA did or just want to know more about why I said something, let me know! I loved being an RA on campus, but it was ridiculously hard finding the balance between work, home and school once they all overlapped. I feel for all of you working at home.

♥
Christa
Smith 8 RA

Smith 8- How Great!!

If you know me at all, you knew this post was coming. So did I. I just didn't know when it would come or if I would ever have all the right words to say. I still doubt I can completely define what it meant to be the Smith 8 RA for 3.6667 school years.

So now I'm homesick for a place that will never be mine again.

I've officially lived in Eastside Suites for a week now and I am realizing just how much I took my time in Smith for granted. For example, I talk to myself ALL THE TIME and I never realized it until I started to get self-conscious that my new suitemate is going to think I am absolutely insane. Also, Harper Dining is officially closed and I will fight anyone who tells me that's not a loss in itself during these already trying times.

Anyway, I have adored being the Smith 8 Resident Assistant and I am devastated that my time there came to a close in such a weird and difficult way. This is not purely based on my absolutely outstanding view of the capitol building and Memorial Stadium (even though I miss it like crazy). It is more about who I got to spend my time with during community builders and random nights in the lobby. (And yes, even Bachelor nights this year.)

Being in one room and on one floor for 3/4 of college gave me a strong connection to the hall and especially my floor. I have stories for every party and get together from each and every year. (When anyone finds out you're an RA, they always ask for a story!) And I have better, deeper memories that I share less often because those moments are special for my residents and me to share.

My first year on Smith 8, my girls had to deal with a new RA dealing with a new RD dealing with a new ADRL and we all found our way together. I describe my first year as the year Smith 8 helped me find myself as an RA. I was on the floor fairly often but was also crazy busy managing classes, my work at The DN/ University Communications and going home to see my then-boyfriend. We got by and my girls will never know how much they meant to me in those random times. The year was a whirlwind and I can honestly say I wasn't the best RA, so I apologize to my girls. I was more dedicated to being friends with my hall staff than I was to making connections with my residents. But to my staff from 2017-18, I love you all to pieces and I can't wait to dance at all of your weddings.


My second year residents helped me find myself as a person. I made connections with this group quickly and with relative ease. So when I got dumped in September and one of my residents (I am still unsure who) saw me tear a photo off of my Where Am I board as I was crying and leaving, they kept an eye out for me. When I came back and they could hear me in my room straight-up heartbroken, they called the Duty RAs to help me out. Let's just say, I have never felt more loved by someone I had met two months prior. This became my dynamic with Smith 8 Year 2. I will go to the grave acknowledging that they helped me more than I helped them in 2018-19. I made great friendships on that floor but it always surprised me how we were able to keep a respectful dynamic. I might have needed their love and support, but I was also still in charge and better not find alcohol in the room. It was amazing.

2019-20 was a rollercoaster. The floor this year was easily my loudest and most rambunctious floor but also the one that I felt most comfortable as an RA with. And thank God for that. This year's floor called themselves my "crackheads" and I would not disagree. I always knew I would end up laughing and wondering what the hell just happened any time more than two or three of them showed up at the same time. I was afraid of coming back for Year 3 because I have heard it's the hardest and I really didn't know how I felt about having another new RD. But I am beyond grateful that I came back and was able to hang out with these girls. They made my job worth doing and I consider them all my giant family. Some of my girls know I have adopted them as sisters and the rest that I was less close to, I know I could consider them a cousin of sorts. But they all belong in my heart and they each mean the world to me.

Because what they don't tell you about being an RA is how hard it is to say goodbye. I have stories of residents that I still see occasionally and I have basically begged everyone to add me on social media so I still get my resident interactions (I just don't have to log them anymore). I actually do care about each of their lives outside of this job, I know that's crazy. But other residents, I haven't heard from since they handed in their room key. That's okay and I understand, it's all a part of the job.

But this year was different. This year move-out hit me like a truck. There were some residents I watched leave and then went back to my room and cried. Some residents I was purposely not around to say goodbye to so I could pretend they'd be back around after they got tired of their parents. And it was all to keep myself going. Normally, I move out with my girls and tell them to say hi if they see me on campus. But this time I stayed until they were all gone and then moved into my suite.


It's not the same over here because Eastside doesn't hold the same significance to me. And I am thankful for that in a weird way. I am thankful because I know Smith 8 was special and what I was able to accomplish with roughly 120 girls can't and won't ever be repeated in the exact same way. Smith 8 was where so many of my most precious memories were made and that means I did something right. Sure, 818 meant the world to me because it was where I had some amazingly intimate moments. But the whole floor holds a giant place in my heart. Because that's where my girls were. And that was home.

So if you've ever heard me complain about my job as an RA, I do stand by those complaints. It is incredibly hard to be an RA. There is absolutely no distinction between work and home and there were many many times I wanted to quit after a dumb duty call in the middle of the night. And yes, I am still a little pissed we never made a Smith 8 handshake or our own hand symbol like Greek life. But, right now I have my rose-colored glasses on and I am not thinking about the job when I say I miss Smith 8. I am thinking about the people that made Smtih 8 what it was and will forever be in my heart.

So if you were ever my resident, just know I seriously love you and I am ALWAYS one message away. I am 100% here for you because I stand by the "once your RA, always your RA" mentality.



Thanks for reading,
♥ Christa Rahl
Smith 8 RA

Where are the 26,000?

Ever since COVID-19 took over our lives, I have found myself going for a lot of walks. I went for some walks with and without my dog in Papio over Spring Break and I have gone on many more walks ever since coming back to campus.

My reality feels fake right now. I go on walks and question my watch and calendar. There's no way campus can be this empty in April, right? There's no way the Union could be closed. There's no way I would ever move out of Smith 818 into a dorm that feels like a mini-vacation until I could return to my home away from home. There's no way my girls are gone. There's no way I will never have another class in Andersen.

But there is a way. And my watch is right. My calendar is accurate. And campus is a ghost town. Because novel coronavirus has taken over and taken everything away.

It's taken away companionship in a traditional sense. It took away my normal. It took away Smith 8. It took away a physical May 2020 graduation ceremony. It took away the Spring Game for my football addiction. It took away GradFest and several banquets I was excited to attend. It took away knowing if I will see some of my friends again.


It took away my sense of control. I am just rolling with the punches now. It's all I can do. Every time I learn something is canceled, graduation included, I just nod and realize this is 2020's reality. It took away my job in Smith 8 and the sense of control I felt over that whole hall.

I wrote this on Monday after I left Smith for my last time:

"I got locked out of my dorm today and I’ll be honest, it took my breath away. My NCard access isn’t something I ever thought about but losing it killed me. As an RA, I’ve grown to feel like Smith Hall is basically my own. Smith 8 was especially mine. After three years of roaming the hallway, I gained a sort of confidence that I can’t even explain. It was home. My girls were my family. And now everyone is gone. Everyone is either at home, a temporary apartment/suite or spending time anywhere but Smith Hall. It doesn’t feel real. It feels like I missed something. It feels like I missed April and now it’s time for graduation. Because that’s how move-out is supposed to work. But it’s not like that this year. This year I had to move my RAing into a dorm I get lost in. I moved in with a suitemate I’d never met. I have classes to finish with professors I’ll never see again outside of a screen. It feels fake. It feels like a weird dystopian fiction novel. But it’s real. It’s real because it’s happening and I can’t stop it. It’s real because no matter what, I couldn’t stay in the room I fell in love in and was later dumped via a phone call in. I couldn’t stay in the room my friends knew to just knock. I couldn’t stay in a room with a board telling anyone who walked by where I was or what I was up to. I couldn’t stay in the room that saw all too many roommate conflicts and resolutions (for most). I couldn’t stay in the room that saw some really early mornings for football games and late nights after Junction and Iggys. I couldn’t stay in MY room. My home. I had to find a temporary home in Eastside Suites. I have no doubt that the Suites will treat me well and my room is safe and lovely. But I don’t think it’ll ever be MY room. And that’s okay. I’ll only be here until the first week of May. And then I’ll find myself back in my Papio home where I once again feel I belong and things make sense. And after a few months, I’ll move down to Orlando and you already know I’ll find a way to become a princess at least once. So I’m not at my home anymore and not a lot makes sense anymore. But I’m going to be okay. Spring is coming. Summer is coming. Home is coming."

But the weirdest thing it has taken away are the thousands of people I don't know. I miss the hustle and bustle of a Big 10 campus. I miss all the energy and movement people created as they moved to and from classes. I miss about 25,000 people I never met.

On my walks, I try to count the people I see out and about and it's rarely more than I can fit on my fingers. That's healthy. That's what we need right now. But I hate it. And I miss my Huskers.

Being Positive Is WORK

I'm going to be honest real quick, being the girl that said yes this summer was way more fun than the girl that wants to be both fearlessly authentic AND positive this year. It's work to keep myself positive this year even though I have always called myself the happy girl.

But somehow being the positive one means more than starting each day sending my Snapchat friends list a reason to smile while keeping the streaks. 

Being the positive one means embracing the parts of my life that I don't necessarily enjoy and taking a positive spin on them to help me keep going. My professor says to "embrace the suck" but that phrase just doesn't sit well with me. 

So I have learned to take what life throws at me and run with it. 

These things have many different names so I will start with a few and if you have questions, that's what the comment button is for. 

First of all, I am becoming more body positive in 2020. And yes, I am taking some ownership of that term for those of us on the smaller side with confidence. You see, I have been working on my confidence ever since my breakup in September 2018. When Joey dumped me, I started working on my "revenge abs" to try and get him to run back to me instead of into the arms of someone new (even though he wasn't that kind of guy.) Spoiler alert- that didn't work at all. 

Anyway, I realized recently that I can't do things just to impress other people or get anyone's attention. Sure, this came about with a Joey concept, but it has rung true for my whole life. I have always wanted to be the favorite student or the girl with the best relationship with her superior. I mean, let's be honest, I have my fourth-grade teacher and my elementary school guidance counselor as Facebook friends and I thought this deserved an award of some sort.

So I have been hitting the rec for myself lately and it has felt amazing. I go to the Rec to run on MWF since I don't really have classes. Then just yesterday I didn't set a schedule for my workout and wanted to see what I could do and hit five miles. I have never been more proud of myself. 

So yes, I have been letting myself workout for myself and not the voices in my head that wanted to die when they saw a higher number than usual on the scale. I am working out for my own endorphins and my own physical well-being. And I love it. 

In the past, I have hated going to the gym because I hated the "that skinny bitch" looks from girls that are there to look like me one day. I didn't understand why they didn't want me there, but now I know it comes from a place of anger, jealousy and ignorance. I may have ran 5 miles (47:00), but I don't think I could do a push-up or a pull-up to save my life. So it works out. We can co-exist. And I'm allowed to be proud of my body, especially now that my metabolism is slowing down and I actually have to work for it.

I don't have to feel bad for looking for the non-existant XS size marker because stores don't want others to feel bad. I can feel a bit excluded. And I can be happy to wear my size 2 jeans because, honestly, I'm a little sad my 00s don't fit anymore.

Sure, many of you won't see a difference worth worrying about but the day the photo on the left popped up on my Timehop, I was legitimately pissed I had grown since I took it freshman year of college. 

But the thing is, I am learning to be positive about my body in so many ways. I am positive and confident because I have taught myself those skills. I am also teaching myself to take care of my face even more than before. 

I have had acne since like the first day of seventh grade. I have tried all the home remedies. I have done the Proactive treatments and debated Accutane but I am seriously afraid of it. So now I am on two prescriptions. One pill that I believe is causing me to gain weight and one cream. They're working, slowly but surely. But I am also helping myself by drinking a shit ton of water, wearing moisturizer all the time and doing a face mask at least twice a week. Some people call this self-care. At this point, I am considering it part of my proper hygiene. Because if I am going to be stressed by classes and current and future jobs, I have to help my face adjust to all of it.

And sometimes that means throwing on a little makeup to boost my confidence just enough. I used to think makeup was just meant to impress someone else. But in reality, a bit of concealer and a fun eye shadow can help me feel like a million bucks and when that happens, nobody can stand in my way.

Because I am an RA. And sometimes that just sucks. But I am working on letting my positivity shine through there as well. On Smith 8, I am a positive RA most when I am ready for my girls and know what's coming. However, I'm an RA and I rarely know what's coming. 

For those of you that know me well, you know I absolutely hate talking while going to the bathroom. I hate the whole idea of it. So when my resident walked in the other night as I was brushing my teeth and said, "I was hoping to see you here," I was not so positive. Moments like these and moments with staff meetings and other less than enjoyable things are what make me more negative about my job. But I am looking at it with a positive light more and more because I know I will miss my girls when I graduate in May.

I am also aware that I am not in the dorm helping them as often as I could be. 

For example, I am also finding my positivity shine through at my part-time job at OMT. OMT took me in when AH closed last August. I will admit adjusting to both the different way of doing things and having an hourly job in college at all has been a lot to swallow. But I am pushing myself to dress up for work, wear a little makeup to ooze confidence and continually learn more about the store so I can understand everything a little better each week since I am still technically the new girl in a family business. 

This can be a hard situation to mold into, especially coming from AH where I was part of the core group, but just today one of my coworkers told a customer I was basically family, so I'll take it. Even if she was lying. 

Overall, though, I am getting better and finding the sunshine in the world. I have not had any serious bats with my usual seasonal depression this year, so I am thanking God for that. I am also well on my way to finding a church group, one baby step at a time. So things are good in the hood. I just have to keep smiling. 

Thanks for reading!

Christa