Justin Foley: 13 Reasons...Episode 1

    

Episode 1 introduces many of the characters, including the two main characters, Hannah Baker and Clay Jensen.  The episode opens with a close-up of Hannah Baker's locker, ensconced by notes and pictures, and with Hannah's voice introducing herself and the show.  From there, the show captures an interaction between Clay and Justin Foley.  Bouncing from one memory, to present reality, to another memory, and so on, the episode follows Clay as it introduces more characters including Hannah's parents, the school counselor, teachers, future subjects of the tapes, Clays relationship with Hannah, and so on until Clay reaches his front porch where the box of tapes await him.  After watching this episode a few times, I realize that the interaction Clay has with many of these characters consist of them "feeling Clay out" to see if he has listened to their tape yet. The box includes a map with the tapes.  The listener is given very specific instructions, complete with sites on the map to visit as they listen, all of it done old school style to keep technology from getting in the way.   As Clay opens the tapes, the audience is still unaware of what is happening.  Clay goes to his father to ask for a boom box, addressing the canyon of separation between the two generations.  When Clay first hears Hannah's voice on the tape, he is gripped with curiosity until he realizes that Hannah states that, if he is listening to the tape, he is one of the reasons why she is dead.  However, Clay is not the subject of Tape 1/Side 1.  Instead, it is Justin Foley.

Justin Foley is a football star and part of the "popular crowd."  Hannah and Justin spent a single night together where they shared nothing more than a kiss.  Unfortunately, Justin takes pictures of Hannah as she comes down a slide and captures a risky photo.  The next day, as all of Justin's friends are inquiring about his time with Hannah, Justin's best friend and constant caretaker, Bryce Walker, takes his phone and proceeds to send this picture to everyone in the school.  This is the beginning of the end.  From this one incident, all the others are set into motion.  At the end of the tape, Hannah claims that she is not done with Justin yet.  He has more than one tape.

Because I can't sleep...

I cried tonight, a good, healing cry.  The tears washed away so many negative and fallacious thoughts.  They washed away sorrow and loneliness.  They washed away brokenness.  They brought restoration and peace.  They brought a headache and sleeplessness, but that is okay too.  I am going to be okay.  The boys are still hanging in the balance between being broken by their father and succumbing to his character.  This breaks my heart, but even now, I have to trust that they will be okay one day too.  I feel that Jesus is near.  He has been rebuking me today.  His discipline brings peace because I know that He has not left me to myself.  With literal soap in my eye and tears pouring out of it to wash away all that does not belong, I realize that the emotional tears did the same thing.  This semester has brought a plethora of tears.  I have ruminated relentlessly.  I have been given the task of writing my life story for multiple assignments for school and therapy and court.  I have been tucked away in this little haven and given the task of finally pouring it all out.  After so many years of having to be strong, so many years of blocking out the truth and the pain, I needed to shatter and let it all come crashing down.  It makes me think of how a doctor has to rebreak a bone in order for it to heal.  God is rebreaking all of my old wounds, just to allow them to heal properly.   Hope.  It is such a powerful word.  Peace that surpasses all understanding is only possible in Jesus.  He is the spring of hope.  There have been moments when hope seemed so far away, as did Jesus, but I guess that is part of the breaking process.  I had to allow myself to feel the hurt and brokenness, the numbness and anger, the self-pity and fear.  All of it had to be absorbed in order to let it all go.  Maybe that is why my boys had to spend so much time with their father without me there to protect them, to purloin the punishment for his existence.  They need me strong.  They need a rock on which they can stand until they are ready to stand on the Solid Rock.  Lacey Bug strolls through my mind.  Long nights of angry coworkers and even angrier customers brought her low on many occasions.  I would always encourage her by saying, “Rock solid, Lacey Bug, rock solid, standing on the Solid Rock!”  It was so much easier when I felt rock solid.  I felt imperishable then.  I was strong and capable even in the midst of chaos.  That was before the PTSD had a chance to come roaring through my mind, leaving a wake of devastation in its path.  Now, I am thankful just to complete an assignment or thought.  My mind has broken.  It was all too much this time.  I know that God is healing me, but this inability to communicate or push through the chaos, or even to get through a single meeting is terrifying.  I have retreated.  I have crawled in an abyss where only Jesus can navigate.  Sovereignly, He has brought me low in order to raise me up.  This thought takes me to the lyrics, “You raise me up so I can stand on mountains.  You raise me up to walk on stormy seas.  I am strong when I am on your shoulders.  You raise me up to more than I can be.”  This semester, I have spent more time at the foot of the cross or prostrate upon the steps before the throne than I have spent on His shoulders.  That is okay too.  Every moment, every heartache, every fear, every ounce of emptiness brings me closer to who He created me to be, closer to my purpose on this earth, and closer to my true home.  This is the embodiment of my hope.  To cross the Jordan, to encroach upon the gates of Heaven, to enter his courts, to sit at the table, to feel His embrace, to rest my head in His lap as He says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”  Not because I have been faithful, but because He has been faithful for me, shielding me from all that I deserve, He is my righteousness that makes my hope possible.  Hope.

13 Reasons Why: Getting to the Reality Despite the Controversy

     13 Reasons Why is a Netflix Original series based on a young girl that commits suicide.  Hannah Baker goes through several traumatic situations.  After each one of these experiences, she falls deeper and deeper into depression.  In the end, she decides that her life is no longer worth living.  She makes a series of tapes, each one directed to another person that did something to lead her to her decision.  Although much of the controversy surrounding this show states that it glorifies revenge suicide or even Hannah, I do not believe that is the case.  I can see how it could be taken that way since the main character in the show is in love with Hannah, but everyone sees art differently. 
     I see several sides of a single story, none of which are glorified.  Each tape reveals the ugliness of humanity.  Romans 3:10-18  says, “There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God.  All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.  Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit.  The poison of vipers is on their lips.  Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.  Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know.  There is no fear of God before their eyes."  As the show continues, even the people that you think are good become some of the worst offenders. 
     The character, Alex Standal, is one example of how the show does not glorify revenge suicide.  As the show goes on, Alex falls deeper and deeper into depression himself.  In the end, he has fallen so far that he is barely recognizable.  The character, Jess, is another example of how the show does not glorify what is happening.  I will leave the rest of my opinion about Jess for when I address her tape.
     Although the main character, Clay, is in love with Hannah, I do not believe that the show glorifies her at all.  Rather, I believe that Clay's infatuation of her allows the audience to sympathize with her while all of the other characters are demeaning her.  It takes the audience in a direction of understanding and patience when, without this part of the story, many would automatically dismiss her or her experiences.
     Another interesting aspect of the story is that almost all of the incidences are due to someone believing a lie.  A single rumor, based on a lie, set all of the other events into motion, each time creating an even more traumatizing event.  I can tell you from experience that this is an easy path to fall down.  I will discuss this further in my post, PTSD:  Fighting for Freedom With a Broken Mind.
     Each of the following 13 posts will address a single episode of 13 Reasons Why.  I hope that, by the end of the last post, you will be able to understand the positive aspects the show has and how it can help all of us understand the slippery slope that leads someone to this decision.  Maybe then, we can all save a life.

I saw fear in her eyes...

On the first and only day I have had time to sub this semester, I worked in a Special Ed class.  I had a sub mentor that showed me the ropes.  We had students come in and out.  We helped them with worksheets, tests, etc.  Near the end of the day, a girl that was probably just entering the early stages of adolescence came in.  She was slender with long, dark, straight hair.  She seemed like any other girl at first, but then I looked a little harder.  What I saw took my breathe away.  The next day, I was waiting to go into my Dev Psych class and I couldn't stop thinking about what I saw.  I wrote something, nothing special, just my thoughts.  I thought I would share it here...

I saw fear in her eyes.  I saw pain.  I saw hopelessness.  I saw myself.  Her dark skin, her long, straight, black hair, her overly thin shape, she looked so frail.  I wanted to help her.  I wanted to look in her eyes and tell her that I understand.  I wanted to tell her she could trust me.  Instead, I asked her about the next problem on the worksheet.  How am I supposed to inspire them when I am just as frail as they are, when I am just as afraid, when I am in just as much pain.  I have this deep longing, calling, to be there for them, to help them heal and be brave.  Right now, I just don't know how.  I don't know where to start.  So, for now, I will continue working on this degree while I heal, while I get stronger, more hopeful, more brave.  As I face the demons of my past and present, I will finish my papers and proposals.  I will take notes in class and study for exams.  I will fight for freedom in my own life and the lives of my own children.  Maybe this is my process.  Maybe this is what God needs me to go through to be who they need me to be.  Maybe I am supposed to feel everything they feel so that when I see it, I will know how to help them.  Maybe all of this is for them...

Learning How to be an Undergrad Thesis Writer

On Tuesday, March 28, I had the privilege of working at the Boland Symposium. At the registration table from 10am-Noon, I was able to direct the Moderators and Presenters to the correct rooms, hand them their badge and lunch tickets, and even redirect a few business majors.  Dr. Ignace held a meeting a week prior to the symposium in order to show us where everything would be set up.   I was able to sit and talk with one of the presenters while she helped with registration the first hour I was there.  Her topic was controversial and brave, but I don't think I will share it here.  Before I had to leave for an exam, Dr. Ignace insisted that he feed me.  I am so glad he did because the mashed potatoes were amazing!  I was thankful for this opportunity because I am working on my own thesis.  It gave me a chance to be a part of the community that I should know and understand, but feel so far away from.  Mr. Hedden let us know that our thesis will most likely not be published, which was a huge relief, but I still have an amazing opportunity to be a part of something I do not feel qualified for.  Stepping out of my comfort zone and exposing my country self to such intelligent people is intimidating and exhilarating all at the same time.  I do not hold a candle to most of these people, but the fact that I am trying to walk beside them anyway makes me feel like I just might be brave too.  I am not sure what God is up to, but He is making it interesting. 

Beauty on Campus 2

On the day of the ETSU NCAA Playoffs, we got out of class early.  This gave me the opportunity to truly enjoy the campus for the first time since I started last semester.  My life is a whirlwind of appointments, court dates, class, work, kids, etc.  This day, I could walk slowly, pay attention to what was going on around me, and soak up some much-needed peace and quiet.  As I waited for my Cinnamon Dulce Latte at Starbucks, I listened to the students and staff cheer and lament as one.  The unity in that room was precious.  In unison, we celebrated and mourned every play together.  Walking out into the sunny, soon-to-be-Spring day, I felt the wind and sunlight hit my face.  To my left, an adorable girl with pink and white hair was walking with her eyes half closed as she fingered her piano piece, to my left a large group of students jogged through the pride walk.  Walking on to the parking garage, there were students practicing fencing on one side, and the ROTC practicing drills on the other.  All around me, there were diverse groups enjoying their college experience.  I had never experienced such tranquility on campus before.  Finally, I can say that I enjoy campus life.  I may never be able to experience it as I would have when I was younger and time was more available, but that day, I was in awe of this step in my life.  Thank you ETSU for giving me this day.  Thank you, previous Midway students, for choosing my essay.  Thank you, Dr., Wachs, Mr. Hedden, and Dr. Kornwiebel for standing by me during these dark and difficult days so that I could experience this one glorious day.  I pray it stays with me on the days that I am rushing from one class to the next, or from one appointment to another.  God speed, and go Bucs!

On-Campus Self-Defense Class

Recently, I attended a self-defense class on campus.  This was not the kind of self-defense class where you practice defensive moves and learn how to drop-kick an offender.  Instead, we watched a video on ways you can prevent being attacked in the first place, and what you can do if you are attacked.  We were given resources, one of which was the power and control wheel.  I wasn't surprised that this was part of the package because I was first introduced to this wheel when I tried to leave my husband 10 years ago.  We discussed healthy relationships and how we can ward off an attacker just by being mindful of where we are, who is around us, and what is going on.  If we feel as though someone is shady, visually confronting them may convince them that we are not worth their time.  Focusing on the Power and Control Wheel, there is a cycle of violence between partners.  There is a honeymoon stage in which the abuser will be wonderful and sweet in order to make you forget how terrible they have been or to prevent you from seeing how terrible they will be before unleashing the beast.  Many abusive traits consist of intimidation, emotional abuse, isolation, minimizing and blaming, using children against you, economic abuse, male privilege, and coercion and threats.  If you notice any of these red flags, beware!  Unfortunately, I had to leave halfway through the hour long class, but I was glad I went.  Right now, fear is ever present in my life.  When I go to court, when I have to sit through a meeting at the boys' school, when I receive a text message that is more than a sentence long from the man that has made it his goal to be inside my head for the last 16 years, fear is almost consuming.  These moments are all it takes to send me on a three day crying binge complete with hyperventilation and despair.  Apparently, this is what it feels like to have PTSD due to domestic violence.  That is what they diagnosed me with after I insisted they do multiple psychological evaluations.  This class made me fell brave for a moment.  One day I am going to have to face this man that brings out so much of me that I hate to see.  A lack of trust in Jesus, a fear of man, all of the things I stooped to in order to survive the last 16 years.  Everything I despise about myself are wrapped up in this man.  The sins that Jesus so lovingly died for, are rooted in my idolatry of Mike Allen.  Going to this class was another attempt at freeing myself from his hold.  Maybe this is too candid, but, at this point in my life, I have to say the things that I have swept under the rug for so long.  Holding it all in is suffocating.  My insistence on being open about my life experiences are how I heal right now.  I know it may make some people uncomfortable, but holding it in is not an option anymore.  Not until I heal enough to be able to choke the words down again.  When that day comes, I will stop saying the truths that stop the conversation and make people second-guess what they just heard.  I will stop being socially awkward and stop pretending that the same truths don't stop me in my tracks and make we want to hug the part of me that experienced these things and tell her it is all going to be okay.  I will be able to believe it when I look in my boys' eyes and tell them that it is okay, that we are safe, that we are going to come out of all of this stronger.  Right now, all I really want to do is hold them and tell them how sorry I am that I did not wake up sooner, that I did not try to save us before it had a chance to get terrible all over again, that I ever went back in the first place, that I married the man that brought us all so much pain and fear, that I was not stronger, that I watched it all, that I failed.  I know I can't do that right now because they are young and they will not understand.  One day.  One day, I will be able to tell them.  I just pray they forgive me.