I am thankful for all of the physicians and nurses in my life who pushed me to go seek medical care (even after being turned away) for my symptoms. When things began with strange visual symptoms and persistent vertigo, I was scared and I needed you all to help me figure out what to do. I have unending gratitude for the primary care physician who recognized that something definitely wasn’t right and referred me to an amazing neurologist. Of course, I am especially thankful for my neurologist who helped me figure out how to get some control of my vestibular migraines and get back to my normal life. He put up with all of my questions, complaints about medications side effects, etc. and helped me find something that seems to be working pretty well for me. Besides all of this, I am grateful to my friends and family who tolerated me when I was dizzy, nauseous, and miserable. You all kept me going when I really didn’t feel well. To the friend who sat up and talked with me on the phone while I cried every time I was too dizzy to sleep, I can never thank you enough.

This experience also reminded me that medicine is cool. I went from feeling really terrible almost every day to feeling good almost every day. While I cannot be 100% certain this is due to medication, it likely is and this is really amazing. Although I still have things to figure out, I am grateful for how much better I feel already and I appreciate all of the people and medicine that have helped me get here.

On the one year anniversary of the Sandy Hook School shooting, I felt sad. It was a tough day and when it ended I felt relieved, but the sadness didn’t crush me. I spent time with friends and family and I participated in some anniversary activities. A fog of sadness hung over the day, but hope for a world where these things no longer happened remained.

On the one year anniversary of the Isla Vista shooting, all I could feel was anger. I spent the morning contemplating whether or not to go up to Isla Vista to participate in memorial activities. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was angry. I stayed in the house and tried to gather my thoughts. Every time I went to leave, I found an excuse not to.

That afternoon I decided to participate in a debrief with some of my friends. For awhile I sat there silently listening to my friends talk about what they were feeling. It wasn’t until someone mentioned that this shooting shattered his view of Santa Barbara as paradise, that I began to understand my anger. Both Newtown and Isla Vista had seemed like idllyic places to me prior to these tragedies. The shootings altered my view of home. Having my hometown affected by mass shooting was overwhelming, but when it happened again in my college town it felt like everywhere I love had been forever changed. For the past year, anger has been bubbling up beneath my sadness.

A social worker friend of mine told me that anger is typically a secondary emotion to fear. I told her that I didn’t live everyday in fear that I would be shot, which I realize is a privilege. She told me that my fear was likely a fear that something like this could happen to a place I love again. In this moment, my anger and fear made sense to me. I am afraid this could happen in a place I love again, though I’m all out of places. Within less than 18 months my hometown, college town, and the city I currently live in (Washington, DC) were affected by mass shootings. Perhaps this is why Richard Martinez’s cry for ‘Not One More’ resonated with me. ‘Not One More’ has a slightly different meaning for everyone. For me, it means Not One More place that I love.

I certainly don’t have all of the answers to solving the complex problem of gun violence, but I know we can’t give up. Even through my fear, anger, and sadness I am going to keep working towards change because, as a nation, we can do better. Please, Not One More.

*Special thanks to all of my friends who tolerated me last Saturday when I was unable to understand my own emotions. You all helped me through a tough day and without you I would not have been able to process all that I have been feeling.

As news websites, my Facebook feed, and my phone text inbox flooded with breaking details, I fluctuated between shock and sadness. Newtown is the place where I learned how to read and write, tie my shoes, do long division, make friends, and drive a car. It is the town where I had my first job, first school bus ride, first broken bone, and first dance. Newtown is my home.

I knew that I needed to return home to Newtown after the shooting, so I boarded a cross-country flight two days later. After I experienced my hometown’s grief, hugged my friend at her mother’s wake, watched Sandy Hook School students so their parents could go to one of seven funerals they would attend, and lead tearful family and friends into a meeting hall for a funeral reception for a seven-year-old, I realized that I would become involved in the gun violence prevention movement.

Nearly 18 months after deciding to become involved in gun violence prevention, I spent a weekend with my family in Newtown so that I could participate in the Junior Newtown Action Alliance’s youth leadership conference. The morning of the conference I woke up to a text message from my Santa Barbara friend: “Allie, did you see the news about the Isla Vista shooting?” I could not believe what I was reading. I immediately opened my computer and went to the BBC World News website. This time my college town, Isla Vista, CA, was on the front page.

Isla Vista is the beautiful one-square mile community adjacent to the University of California Santa Barbara where many students live after their freshman year. Isla Vista is where I learned how to pay bills, manage a budget, parallel park, purchase a car, and take study breaks on the beach. It is the town where I had my first lease, first homeless outreach experience, and first late night beach stroll. Isla Vista is my home.

After learning about the mass shooting in my beautiful college town, I returned to the cycle between shock and sadness. I felt devastated and helpless: how could this happen again? I was sent to Isla Vista through my work with the Brady Campaign within a week of the shooting. As I stood in front of memorials that were hauntingly similar to the memorials I had stood in front of less than 18 months earlier, I was in disbelief that both of my homes had become the sites of mass shootings. Gun violence was something that I never associated with home, but in my sadness I remembered that there are many who live with violence in their communities every day.

With tomorrow being the one month anniversary of the shooting in Isla Vista, I feel sad, shocked, and angry. Until recently I was unaware of the extent of the gun violence epidemic in America. It was unfathomable when gun violence came to one of my homes and downright unbelievable when it came to the other. I have failed to mention that I currently live in Washington, DC which also experienced as mass shooting during this time. I am 23 years old and all three of the places I have lived have been affected by a mass shooting in the past 18 months. I know this is a complicated issue and there is no single solution, but I am tired of hearing that there is nothing we can do. I am angry about what has happened in the past 18 months and my desire to make change is not going away.

Young people are the most affected by gun violence and we must be part of the solution. I am proud to stand beside so many amazing and inspiring young Americans who are working for change. I urge other teens and young adults to join us in our mission to end the American gun violence epidemic.