A month later, after the black-and-orange graduation, I realize I have done it once again. As a child I had problems connecting with children my own age. It wasn't an issue that required psychological attention or anything, just something inside of me that no one else really knew about. I recall a time in Kindergarten when my teacher sent a note home stating something along the lines of "Kayla needs to stay in her seat when she is finished with her work and not help everyone else with theirs." I was completely offended, even at five years of age. I was trying to help, what was wrong with that? I finished twenty and thirty minutes before everyone else, what else was I suppose to do? I am anything but quite- so that was a task all in itself.
I remember analyzing all my favorite television shows, and how they all had one thing in common- my favorite character was always the oldest female. In 7th Heaven, Mary was my idol, in Full House it was DJ, and in the Brady Bunch it was Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. I tried to force myself to like different characters- especially since so many people thought Michelle Tanner was the cutest thing; however, I felt as if I related more to the eldest, even though at the time they were all playing characters much older than myself. I still do not understand the reasoning behind this- and yes, all three of these remain my favorite.
At age seven and eight my older teenage babysitters seemed more like my best friends rather than my daily guardians. I did not feel as if I were a child being cared for, instead I felt like I fit in- like I was in a unique friendship. I looked up to those girls, especially one in particular who happen to be my cousin. To this day, although I have not seen her face to face in years- I still admire her along with her newly defined motherly lifestyle and her lasting love with the man who she FINALLY married! :)
I say all of this to lead to the fact that I believe God prepared me to be a little more mature for a reason. Although, I cannot be sure of his plan- I can only imagine. Two months after my eleventh birthday I lied in a hospital bed while the doctors asked my parents to step out of the room. Following soon after were the words I'll never forget "Kayla has an autoimmune disease called Lupus...blah, blah, blah." I felt as if I were in a Charlie Brown movie, for I couldn't understand much after that. I cried- but not for myself. I wasn't afraid to die- but I was afraid for my family to have to deal with it. It wasn't fair to them that I was sick, but for their sake I overcame it. Eleven years of pre-maturing, in my opinion, was apart of the process to allow me to become a stronger patient. Two years of chemotherapy are apart of my past, and I am very proud. I defeated it all with a smile- and today I am doing really good. Children suffer from worse things all the time, but I continue to be proud of my own bravery and faith- it's what keeps me going today.
Once I reached high school I made loads of friends- they were all pretty much the same as myself, or so it seemed until their senior year. They walked the stage two years before I did, and that day became a burden. I promised myself I would not allow myself to continue to become attached to those whom I knew would not be there for much longer, but I did it again the next year- and now I'm guilty of the same situation in college. A month has passed since the black-and-orange graduation, and I realize that I have again become attached to a few individuals who will not be by my side next year. It seems slightly depressing; however, it's really not. I am so excited this time around, because the future holds so much more for these individuals! I hope that I can have as much impact on at least one individuals life as these girls have had throughout my own.
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