Worms, Words and a Whole lot of Tissues

“Flight attendants please take your seats and prepare for take off.”

I lay my head back and feel my body being pressed into the seat beneath me. It felt oddly comforting. The pressure seemed to relieve my tight muscles and my pounding head - Sort of embracing me in a tight, even squeeze.

I wiped the tears from my 16 year old eyes and stared out the window of the plane, watching Seattle below as the building faded away into little dots. At this point, I had no choice but to fully accept my reality.

As we reached cruising altitude, scenes from the past 24 hours played in my head like a movie - bringing up all the emotions attached. My empty, sleep deprived stomach was boiling with guilt and shame. My core was trembling with fear of the uncertainty of my future.

My heart grew heavy as I thought of my friends I left behind. I thought of my dance team who I let down. I thought of my teachers and mentors I never truly thanked for their kindness.

My chest grew tighter and my breathing was strained. Eyes closed, heart pounding, I heard the flight attendant approaching.

I struggled to steady my breath. “One, two, three, four, five.”

I developed the skill of self-pep-talk in my early teens.

“Okay, compose yourself. You’re just really tired. You’re not plummeting into the dark depths of depression. You’re just tired. Only tired.”

I almost had myself convinced when the flight attendant startled me out of my inner dialogue.

“Anything to eat or drink?”

The flight attendant’s soothing, motherly voice seemed to cradle me in comfort so much so, the flood gates almost opened right back up.

I could see my failing efforts to compose myself reflected in her deeply concerned, blue eyes. I greeted her with a forced yawn and fake a smile, though I could tell she wasn’t fooled. I ask for a Sprite and some pretzels, hoping to ease my anxiety ridden stomach.

She smiles sweetly at me, hands me two bags of pretzels and the whole can of sprite with the cup. She makes it a point to catch my eyes with hers, “You let me know if you need anything at all, okay?”

I struggled to keep my throat open enough to say thank you. Enfolded in her kindness, it took every ounce of energy I had to not fall into another weeping heaping pile of tears.

Having a window seat, the lady in the aisle seat witnessed the whole interaction. (there was no one in the middle) I could tell she saw right through my facade, as well.

I avoided eye contact with her and tried to become one with the seat.

After a few short minutes she spoke. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

I hesitantly replied, “I’m Kailtyn.”

From here the conversation developed naturally. And after the normal “howdy-do’s” and “oh, wow’s” she began to feel strangely like home.

My shoulders began to loosen. My breathing smoothed out. My throat relaxed.

I had developed a deep sense of distrust for most of the adults I knew at this point in my life as my aunt (whom I lived for part of my childhood) had what I called her “little spies” scattered around my high school. They were teachers and other adults - generally from the church - who would report to her any time they saw me “doing something wrong.”

Something wrong like… Holding hands with a boy. Or hugging my friends for too long. Or using curse words. You know, the things that get you a one way ticket to hell.

Because of this, I was very wary of any adult asking me questions and I chose my answers very wisely.

However, this lady was different. I felt like I was talking to my best friend within minutes. Before I knew it, the can was wide open and the worms were squirming frantically to get out.

I told her of the events that led me to be sitting here on this plane, next to her.

“To sum it up, my aunt and uncle kicked me out due to my inability to follow their rules.” I began.

“Okay” she said, confused and cautious, “go on.”

I took a deep breath and started from the top. I was living with my aunt and uncle in Juneau, Alaska. We had just returned home from a trip to Utah, visiting family.

Late that night, my aunt caught me chatting with my friends on the iTouch a friend had given me. This was a big no no, and I think the second one they found. I knew I was in for it now.

Going through my backpack, they found a few notes from a boy that I liked and a little fiction story my best friend and I wrote (and signed) that they deemed completely inappropriate and sacrilegious, at best.

I told Sam how scary my uncle was as smashed the iTouch to pieces in a rage. Then they made me burn the letters and the story. None of us slept a wink and they kicked me out that night.

It all happened so fast and when I asked if I could say goodbye to anyone, my aunt replied, “Do you think you deserve to say goodbye to anyone?”

In the wee-hours of the morning, my uncle and I got on a plane, headed to Seattle, Washington. (almost always your first stop flying out of Southeast Alaska) In the Seattle Airport, after a thick-skinned farewell, my uncle and I parted ways for the last time. He was going on a business trip somewhere on the East Coast I believe.

And for me.. I had a 4 hour layover to wait out, alone. No money. No phone. No food.

Just me and my and formidably destructive thoughts.

I peeped a look at Sam to see if maybe I was sharing too much. I didn’t want to throw all my baggage on her. I could see the thoughts swimming rapidly around in her mind, but there was a force inhibiting the words to come out.

I was very familiar with this look as a child. I can tell they are respecting the boundaries of a minor not under their care, though they obviously did not agree with certain parenting methods being displayed.

The flight attendant came by again and Sam bought me a burger and water bottle.

I felt embarrassed and accepted the burger, not understanding why she was being so nice to me? I didn’t do anything to deserve such compassion, yet she freely gave it.

I ate half the burger and she asked some questions to better understand the dynamic between my aunt and myself.

I depicted my aunt's parenting choices by telling Sam about the debate between my therapist and my aunt over my “unsupervised free time with friends.” My aunt dug in both heels as my therapist spent 15 minutes trying to convince her of the importance of social freedom. My aunt finally agreed, but stood firm at twice a month, for three hours at a time.

My therapist had the same look on her face as Sam did.

Then I opened up in a way I had never done before. I shared with her feelings so deep, I wasn’t even aware of them before that moment.

I expressed how I felt so ashamed that I couldn’t just be a “good kid.” After all, they weren’t even my parents, yet chose to care for me. Isn’t that selfish of me to not follow their rules?

I felt guilty for simply being myself.

I felt like a walking contradiction being pried one way than the other for the 7 majority of the years I lived with my aunt and uncle.

At home, I was who they wanted me to be and who I thought I should be - modest and reserved.

Anywhere else, whether I was alone or with friends, who I was naturally couldn’t help but to express itself. I was energetic and outgoing.

I couldn’t tell you everything Sam had said to me. But I remember this was the first time I even considered everything my aunt led me to believe could possibly be false.

Somehow, this stranger lifted me up to a new perspective with a kind of gentleness one would use when handling a newborn baby.

She wiped away my fears and false beliefs of myself and showed me my worth.

She said, “Look, I know that you miss your friends and not getting to say goodbye must have hurt a lot. But from the sounds of it, your living situation with your aunt was not the healthiest. But you are free from her restrictions now. And you will see soon, you are not all those things she led you to believe.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes as I let the conversation soak in. I felt lighter. I felt more hopeful for the future. Before, I couldn’t see any light, at any end, of any tunnel. I was doomed for darkness and that’s what I felt I deserved.

“Alrighty folks, we are about to begin our descent into Dallas, Texas. Thank you so much for flying Alaska Airlines, I hope you have a great night!”

As we began our descent, I realized the feelings of fear and shame were diminishing and the feelings of hope and faith were taking their place.

We exited the plane and stepped off to the side. She handed me a piece of paper with her number on it. “If you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call.”

Tears filled my eyes and I fell into her supportive embrace.

She reminds me, “You only got two more years, kid. Play your cards right, and I know you’ll kick-ass as an adult. You’re strong. You got this!”

I nod my head, taking her words to heart like scripture. She wishes me luck and we go our separate ways.

I never saw her again after that. I never called her. I spent two weeks in Texas before moving to California to live with my Dad.

Poor lady had no idea what can of worms she was opening when she decided to crack me open. But she sat there with me, in the mess of worms, words, and a whole lot of tissues.

She gave me objective guidance and uplifting reassurance.

I walked off that plane with more confidence and the clearest sight of my worth to date.

I was given reassurance that there are kind people in this world. And I now had the deepest desire to give to another what she had given to me.

And what did she even receive from this?

Besides the very underrated feeling you get from giving service to another... she maybe got a few worry-filled hours or days. Wondering if I was going to call, wondering I was okay.

A stranger’s compassion is arguably the most genuine and selfless form of kindness there is.

Their life would not be better or worse if they chose not to care. But they did. Solely for the sake of caring, without any expectation of anything in return.

It is very rare to get the opportunity to return a kind gesture directly back to the stranger that gave it, as you usually don’t ever see them again. It is then our natural inclination to go and give that same compassion to another.

This cycle is contagious and has the potential to grow exponentially as we continue to give to others. This cycle has the aptitude to transform this world into a more compassionate, supportive environment to grow and thrive.

I am so grateful for this experience, and many others, as it has instilled in me the passion to be of service and to always extend kindness to others.