A year with Ronan

Ronan,

It seems natural to me to write to you, maybe because that’s the way I met you – through your mama’s beautiful letters. Today - September 7^th- marks 365 days since we were first introduced. Exactly one year ago, I was sitting in front of the TV watching the Stand Up To Cancer telethon. Exactly one year ago, I watched Taylor Swift take the stage to sing the song she had written for you. And exactly one year ago, I looked into a pair of old-soul blue eyes, your eyes, and felt as if I had known you forever. That feeling led me to a blog you know well—rockstarronan.com—where I read every post, every word that your mama had written to you and for you, over the course of your journey together.  In reading your mama’s blog, I felt that my world had shifted in a way that I couldn't completely describe – I felt that I had no idea where I was going and was exactly where I was supposed to be at the same time.  This experience is what I refer to now as a “line in the sand moment,” one of those rare, life-defining moments that makes you realize that life as you know it no longer exists. I’m sure you know better than anyone what that feels like.

After that line in the sand moment, my emotions were jumbled—I felt meeting you had given me new purpose, but was unsure of where that purpose would lead. Searching for clarity, I went back to your mama’s blog and read the entries she had written after your death. They were drenched with raw, unfiltered emotion—anger, grief, confusion, a soul-wrenching mother love—and an incredible honesty, the kind that is only born from desperation.  In reading her recent entries, I saw her struggling with the devastation of losing you, seeking purpose in the midst of an unimaginable loss, and trusting in your connection with her to lead her in the right direction. If she, a grieving mama who had suffered so much, could find the strength to make a difference for you, I knew that I could too.

In the year since meeting you, Ronan, many things have changed. I have learned that life is too short to love half-heartedly, to live only for yourself, or to listen to people who tell you that your dreams are too big.  But in this world where so much has changed for me, I still believe that everyone comes into our lives for a reason, Ro. All of the courageous kids I’ve met, all of their families, all of the beautiful Ro Lovies out there, all of the kickass people determined to find a cure for this bastard called childhood cancer, there’s a reason why I’ve been lucky enough to have them enter my world.  And you know what, Ro? You’re that reason. I have you to thank. You’re the one who helped your courageous mama to write those deeply honest words, words that moved a girl named Taylor to write the song that introduced me to you. You’re the one who helped me to recognize a purpose beyond myself. You’re the one who reminds me to stay grounded, and hopeful, and forever fighting for a cure for kids like you. So, when people ask me why I won’t stop until there’s a cure, I will tell them you’re the reason. With blurry eyes and a determined heart, I’ll explain to them how my life changed in a year.  A year with Ronan.

September is pediatric cancer awareness month. If you’re inspired by Ronan’s story, please download “Ronan” on iTunes and donate to The Ronan Thompson Foundation to help us fight cancer for kids.

Donate to the Ronan Thompson Foundation by clicking here!

I am not a superhero.

I am not a superhero.

Let that sink in for a moment.

I bet you haven't been this shocked since Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah's couch.

If you don't understand the couch-jumping reference, you are probably too young to read this blog. Please, go play outside before you become a technology-addicted zombie. There are already too many of us.

As earth shattering as this revelation may be to the technology-addicted zombies still reading, my non-superhero status is something that I've had to come to terms with lately. Let me tell you, It hasn't been easy. In fact, someone will probably still have to pry my bedazzled Pinterest-inspired cape out of my hands. (If you've made it this far, that job has become yours and you should know that I'm hard to take down with less than a professional wrestling team.)

But back when I was young and stupid (translation: before I had this famous blog), I played the part of the superhero. Whenever my parents fought, I put myself in the middle to stop the chaos. When my older brother started leaving the house to hang out with a bad crowd, I thought of every excuse to convince him to stay home. When I got older and found my own group of friends, I was the one who tried to solve their problems. Like any good actor playing a part, I eventually got very good at being the superhero. Just like in the movies, I was able to convince others of my superhero status. Even more, I was able to convince myself. In a world where the only thing certain is uncertainty, I found comfort in believing that I could control some part of it; that I could be the one to right things when the crazy train derailed.

Unfortunately, like every great superhero, I found my kryptonite - the one thing that put a wrench in my plans. A pesky reality that messed up everything I believed about myself and my power in the world. This was my kryptonite: We are all human. What a downer, right? I mean, why couldn't my kryptonite be Paula Deen's butter pound cake or trashy Jersey Shore reruns? As hard as it would be to tear myself away from Miss Paula's buttery deliciousness or The Situation's mutant muscles, I could do it. I would have had some control over those things. But this? The very essence of our humanity, the fact every one of us has free will, the ability to make mistakes and decisions that, in an instant, can completely change the course of our lives? This was completely out of my control. I couldn't stop people from fighting, or from surrounding themselves with the wrong people, or from making decisions that I didn't agree with. And it was a total bummer.

In this fantasy world I had built for myself, the one where I was the superhero with the bedazzled cape, I believed that I was helping people. After all, what's more noble than helping people to escape disaster, or to avoid disaster altogether? What's more admirable than sacrificing yourself for the greater good? In my  superhero days, I would have said, "Absolutely nothing." But I was wrong. The best thing you can do for people is to let them live their lives. Know when to step in and when to step back. Let them make mistakes, give them the freedom to be their own decision makers, have faith in their ability to put the pieces of their lives back together in their own time.

In realizing that I don't have all of the solutions for life's problems, that the only control I have is over my own actions, I relinquished any claim to supernatural powers. (This made redoing my business cards a b**ch.)  But, in coming to terms with my humanity, I claimed something much greater, a power that had been within me all along. I found the power to love people enough to let them follow their own destiny. The power to accept that we all make mistakes. The power to stand beside people when things fall apart and to cheer them on when things begin to come together. The power to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, to rejoice in what makes us human. The power to love. 

So, the truth is out. I am not a superhero.

I cannot save people.

I can only love them.

And that is enough.

Since you're reading this blog...

I figured I should write an inaugural post. (Honestly, I just wanted to use the word "inaugural" and this was the perfect opportunity. I love having a blog.) But really, I decided to start this blog because I have so many thoughts that cannot be expressed within the confines of other social media outlets. I know, I know. Those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter are thinking, "Kayla, do you really have more thoughts than can be expressed in a 140 character tweet or a traditional Facebook rant?" And the answer is yes; yes I do.

In the coming days/weeks/months/time until I develop severe carpal tunnel, I'll be posting my thoughts on a wide range of issues. Since I know we (and by "we" I mean me) are sick of those boring celebrity gossip blogs (so 2012. Duh.), I promise to post on only the most important topics of the day. North Korea's nuclear tests, the increased focus on educational accountability, Brad Pitt's struggle with face blindness....you get the point. 

As my beloved reader(s), you are the captain(s) at the helm of this ship. Therefore, YOUR OPINION MATTERS! You also claim all responsibility should this blog crash into a metaphorical iceberg. If there's a topic you'd like me to address in my next blog, leave me a comment.