http://twloha.sitecrafting.com/blog/ Latest blog entries from TWLOHA en-us Thu, 09 Sep 2010 07:21:32 PDT Thu, 09 Sep 2010 07:21:32 PDT SiteCrafting, Inc. CMS http://www.twloha.com/blog/what-found-out-something-already/ “I lost my cousin to suicide three days ago.” - West Palm Beach, FL “My daughter cuts and I don’t know why.” - Arlington, TX “I’m schizophrenic and have been suicidal for the past few years, but I have hope." - Houston, TX “My best friend is going into treatment this week. She’s been going in and out of centers for the past four years. I just want to help her.” - San Antonio, TX “I’m bipolar and I passed it on to both my children.” - Clarkston, MI “All I want to do is stop. Everyone is scared but I don’t know what to do.” - Charlotte, NC --- Thank you. I wish there was something deeper or more profound to say to those of you who visited the TWLOHA table and shared your story at The Bamboozle Roadshow this year. But nothing feels like it’s quite enough or conveys how truly grateful my heart is for having met all of you. The comments above are just a few of the many stories I was fortunate enough to hear during the six-week tour. The main reason we go on the road so much is to meet people where they are – to hear their hearts, and to present them with the idea, sometimes new, sometimes not so new, that they don’t have to live their lives alone. One of the biggest honors for me (and I’m comfortable saying this for our team as well) is being someone that a complete stranger trusts enough to share their darkest moments with. It’s beautifully overwhelming to be a person someone feels safe talking to about their struggles after only a brief introduction of names. My hope is that in these exchanges they (and possibly you) feel a bit of freedom from pain, and a sense of understanding. I also hope that you are able to be on the receiving end of conversations like this, to be someone that someone else needs. I left for this tour with a heavy heart and hoped that the road would make it light again. What I found out was something I already knew. It wasn’t the road that was making things easier, it was people; seeing old friends, making new ones, and meeting all of you. It was sharing TWLOHA and parts of myself with others. “Your story is important.” We say that a lot because it’s true. What you have to say, and what you’ve experienced deserves to be known by others. I wish for you this summer, and all the days after, that you have someone to share your story with. With Love,Chloe P.S. Thank you to Bamboozle for letting us join your traveling summer camp. Thank you to so many of the artists for being curious about what we do, for wanting to get involved, or for showing continued support. We’re grateful for our friends in Boys Like Girls, Forever The Sickest Kids, Third Eye Blind, LMFAO, The Ready Set, and Cady Groves who all rocked TWLOHA at some point during the tour. And a big thank you to my dear friend Martin of Boys Like Girls for wearing a TWLOHA shirt everyday of the tour and for all of your support. ... Sat, 10 Jul 2010 12:45:00 PDT http://www.twloha.com/blog/an-hour-in-union-station-1/ This blog was written on June 4, 2010. --- It is Thursday (but technically Friday) and I am sitting in Union Station in downtown Los Angeles waiting for the 1:25 am bus to take me to Bakersfield to catch a train heading north to see my parents. I have only been here once before, and it was for a brief moment when I ran past everything without really noticing anything. This time I have an extra hour before I need to leave, so I take the time to observe my surroundings. Union Station is a beautiful old building full of decorative tiles and leather chairs and wood trim on the ceiling. It’s a place I imagine Winston Churchill or FDR enjoying because it’s what I picture being "exquisite" during their lifetimes. Union Station is also a building full of people who don’t have homes, places to go, or people to share their stories with. Many of the faces you pass look just as weathered as the walls. As I sit in one of the old-fashioned, brown leather chairs, I notice a security guard walking around, gently waking people up and asking, “Can I see your ticket?” The response from the person is typically one of confusion, or a rustle of pockets yielding no money or ticket, followed by silence as the sleepy person walks out into the early morning. They all give the ticket man the same look: pain. I quietly ask the security guard, “How do you do this everyday?” “Eventually you just get used to it. It’s always the same.” The words roll around in my mind for long time. I try to wrap my head around each of them, to somehow make sense of their meaning. “It’s always the same.” Why? It doesn’t have to be. We are not meant to live our lives in such brokenness. Every one of these people has a story, and each just as important. Why do we feel as if their lives are so drastically different from the security guard’s? And from my life. Or maybe yours too. My heart aches for lonely, broken people. But also for the security guard, who has to send them away everyday, into a place where shelter may not meet them. And for the people who have a roof, and a bed, but still feel alone – my heart aches for you, and sometimes for me, because at times it feels lonelier in a crowded room than it does in an empty home. So if that’s you right now, please know it is possible to find a place where you feel alive. You are meant for that. You deserve to have a place to go and rest. It may not involve a roof, but it will involve people. And in the sharing of your story with others, you give them permission to do the same. With Love, Chloe ... Wed, 16 Jun 2010 00:00:00 PDT