All throughout my life, I had heard people speak of
community. It seemed to be a cavalier term thrown around to describe various
groups of people in certain situations. My church was a community, my classroom
was a community, and my neighborhood was a community. I had no idea what the
word really meant.
The first time I was able to experience a real community was
my junior year of high school. I was fortunate enough to be selected to be a
part of the Spring Break internship program though To Write Love on Her Arms. I
was beyond excited to have the chance to work with an organization that I was
so passionate about. On the second night of the internship, we were asked to
share our stories. I considered myself to be a pretty private person. The
thought of sharing my life with a room full of relative strangers was
terrifying to me. Then the first intern began to share. I was in awe at how
honest they were being. If this person had the bravery to share their story,
why couldn’t I? As more and more people began to share I became increasingly
nervous. I knew that eventually it would be my turn. While participating in the
task was not mandatory, I felt that it was something I needed to do. At this
point in my life, I was going through a dark time. I had begun to withdraw from
those around me. I could tell that if I kept it up, things would become
increasingly difficult for me. By now, my nerves were starting to show. We took
a short break, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I began to cry and blurted out
to the group around me how scared I was to share. Instantly, I was comforted
with hugs and words of encouragement. I was reassured that I did not need to
share if I didn’t want to, but if I felt like it was something I needed to do,
those around me would be there to hold my hand through it, both literally and
metaphorically. After the break I decided it was my turn to share. Once I
started talking, I couldn’t stop. I told that group of people things that I
hadn’t even told my best friend. I spoke until my tears made me stop. When I
couldn’t speak anymore, the intern director who was sitting next to me wrapped
their arms around me and held on tight. I could literally feel the love and
acceptance of those around me radiating into the room. I had shared my darkest
moments with a group of people I had just met and was met with unconditional
love and support. It was then that I knew what true community felt like.
After this experience, I went home changed. I knew what
community felt like and strived to bring this feeling of unconditional
acceptance into my everyday relationships. This experience taught me that the
first step to community is honesty. I began to be more honest with my friends
and family, and encouraged them to be honest with me as well. Once I began to
open up to people, I saw my relationships start to change. I became closer with
my friends and family and started to bring the feelings of community that I
shared with my fellow interns back home. Being able to experience community
through my internship truly changed my life for the better.
