Help Me Believe In Me...

Last night after I came home crying my friend Leif told me that if I wanted something bad enough, I wouldn't let anyone stand in the way. And while I think that's true, I think it might be different when it's your parent. The person who once many years ago told you that you could do anything you wanted to do, and then twenty years later changed their mind.

Life with my dad since my mom died has been difficult. He resented me for so long, and once he had the chance to express all those years of pent up resentment, he made up for lost time. He has continuously convinced me to give up my dreams, one by one, by telling me that I can never accomplish them. He refuses to give me his support in anything, including my upcoming trip to Brazil (which breaks my heart). He thinks my ideas are rash and not thought through. I had to hang up on him last night because I started crying, and I knew he would yell at me if he heard me cry. He has taught me to hide my emotions.

It's really very hard to go after something you want when the one person who is supposed to support you in everything you do refuses to believe in you. Because no one since my mom has believed in me, I seem to have lost the ability to believe in myself. This morning when I woke up, I think I lost interest in chasing this dream. I feel like yesterday didn't even happen.

I want to make him proud, just once. I don't know why, because he really doesn't even deserve that. I just do. I want him to think that just maybe I could accomplish something. I want him to think that so that I can think that. I need him to help me believe in me. Instead, I was forced to tell him to forget that I ever said anything, and then quietly hang up. And as I fell asleep last night, I seemed to have quietly hung up my latest attempt at going after my dreams, too.

Maybe one day I'll have the strength to walk through that wall. Yesterday was not that day. May Jesus teach me to believe in myself. I know He believes in me...

I Forgot To Read the Warning Label...

Caution: Walking on water may cause drowning.

I applied to massage therapy school today. An hour later my dad told me that he thought it was a stupid idea, that I won't do it, and that he won't give me his tax info so I can get federal aid. Wow. What incredible encouragement. In fact, it made me cry. I don't cry.

So much for walking on water. I guess I'll just stay in the boat.

"Take Courage! It is I. Do Not Be Afraid." *

I took my passport to church this morning. Throughout the whole service, it sat in the chair next to me and stared me down. When the service was over, I took it, along with a decent amount of cash, and placed them in the hand of one of the pastors at my church. It was a statement. It was a faith step. I'm going to Brazil. No turning back now.

This afternoon I sat on my back deck with Jesus. I told Him I'd go where He sends me. I asked Him to show me what's next. I know that whatever and where ever it is, it's big, but I know He won't send me until I'm ready. I know He'll hold my hand.

In an hour I'm going to tell my boss that I'm not working early mornings anymore. I'm just not. I refuse to have my life controlled by anyone except Jesus. Soon I plan to tell her that I'm moving on. I don't want to be manipulated anymore. I don't want my life planned by another human anymore. I'm going to chase life. I'm going to chase Jesus.

It's not about me. It's about Jesus. It's a walk on water kind of day...

*Matthew 14:27

Kindness, Goodness, and a Fresh Pair of Eyes...

Tonight I went to a gathering (I don't much like to use the word "party" as a noun) at the home of two people I am ever so pleased to call my friends, and I took my new roommate with me. She hasn't met many people in the week that she has been here, and I really wanted her to meet the fabulous people that I call my friends. I, of course, had ideas of how she would fall in love with my friends as everyone else does. But see, we had a problem. She had a very long week at her new job, and has had a slightly hard time adjusting to the change of moving here and leaving everything she had ever known on her own free will. I get that. So she wasn't much in the "partying" mood tonight, and stayed slightly hidden most of the evening.

Something I've learned very quickly about her is that when she gets really tired, she gets really sad. This has broken my heart every time, because I want very much for her to feel comfortable and happy here. I want to do everything I can to help her feel welcome, and loved, and happy to be here. Tonight, though, I seemed to have had my own agenda. She was ready to leave and go to bed, and I chose to ignore the signs and keep pursuing my own happiness. This was wrong of me, but it gave the chance for another one of God's beautiful daughters to step into her life and love the way He taught us. It was truly beautiful.

There is a person in my group of friends that I have a really hard time getting. One of those things where I really don't want to misunderstand them. I really want to be able to put aside past opinions and barriers, and be able to open the eyes of understanding between this person and me. It has been a desire of mine for months, but I had yet to accomplish this. I really wanted to have a friendship with this person; I've felt drawn to them. That being said, this might have been one of the last people I expected my roommate to form a bond with. And yet, if I had had any sense at all, I would have seen how perfect it would be. And it was.

This person is so incredibly kind. She sat and talked to and loved on my precious, homesick new friend while I was selfish. She listened, and she gave of herself. The eyes of my heart were opened at the goodness I saw in this person, and all of the prior opinions I had fell away. That, to me, is one of the greatest blessings God has so obviously placed in front of me in a long time. To see such genuine kindness in another person that I am so often afraid I misunderstand, while at the same time feeling the sting of my own selfishness. I am blessed to have seen such beauty in another person. I am so grateful to them for loving my new friend. It means the world to me when people show kindness to the people I care about. It's so precious.

I know this probably hasn't made much sense to anyone but me. These are just my thoughts tonight, about a few people I really care about. I really hope sometime I can tell this friend of mine how precious I think they are, and how much I appreciate the goodness that just spills out of them. I am ever so grateful that they showed such kindness to a stranger that I happen to care so much about. I really am just so grateful that this person is who she is, and that I'm beginning to see who she is through fresh, new eyes.

I'm convinced that sometimes the most beautiful people God creates are standing right in front of us, but we can't see it because our human hearts are too quick to judge, or too stubborn for second chances. I want to banish these attitudes from my heart and from my life. I want to see people through the eyes of Jesus, and I want to see such goodness in people much more often. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again: I am ever so blessed to know the people I know. They are some of God's greatest creation. Tonight, again, I was reminded.

Grumbling...

Things I didn't like so far this week:

1. Having to work on my day off.

2. Working 43 hours in four days.

3. Not having any fun at all.

4. Coming home, eating dinner, showering, and going straight to bed, only to get up the next morning and repeat.

5. Not having heard from any of my friends except one so far this week (I'm lonely!).

6. The fact that it has rained all day every day all week.

7. The fact that it's not Friday yet.

I'm exhausted. I regret taking a third job. I got offered a fourth one yesterday. I may have to pass on that. Pretty sure 52 hours is plenty too many. I seriously need a vacation. It's coming. One more month...

In other news, I discovered today that I make about $10,000 more a year than I thought I made. That's exciting, I thought!

Is it Friday yet? I'm so tired...

p.s...it's ok to grumble every now and then, right?

Atypical Insomnia...

I've had trouble sleeping lately. And when I say this, I don't mean the kind of trouble sleeping that I usually have (I kinda suck at sleeping anyways). I mean the kind of trouble where the other night it took me four hours to fall asleep and then I only slept for two hours before I was fully awake again. No good. Makes for a very tired and grumpy nanny. Which creates grumpy children.

The other day I was talking to my roommate, Ashley, and I told her that I think I know what the reasoning behind this incessant insomnia is. I originally attributed it to stress, as I have obviously lost my mind by agreeing to work as much as I have been working, but it's becoming clearer to me that it isn't necessarily the stress that keeps me awake.

You see, when babies reach about thirteen or fourteen months old, they stop sleeping well because they are in the stage of discovering so much and learning so much that sleeping puts a stop to it, and, well, that just isn't ok. They want to stay awake so they don't miss anything new. They want to keep discovering. Now, I know I am twenty-one years old, but this makes so much sense to me. Right now, at this stage of life, in this particular situation, I have so much going on. I just got a new roommate, and overnight my house has become this giant, constant slumber party. We're having so much fun! In addition, I got very inspired this weekend after a series of conversations to actually get up and do something with my life, and follow my dreams. So today I started to consider quitting my job and going after my passions (sorry John, I don't have a thesaurus handy!). This, my friends, is so much to think about! So much to enjoy! So much to be excited about!

So now, at 11:30 at night, when I have to be up by seven, for the like 15th night in a row, I have no desire to go to sleep. I want to stay up and chase after life. I want to discover what's out there for me. I want to go back upstairs and play with all my roommates (we just played much guitar hero in our pajamas and then did the whole "good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite" routine as we headed into four different bedrooms, it was so fun!). Life is so fun right now. This age is so fun, because we have no idea what happens next. What adventure lies there!

So why would I want to sleep? Oh yeah, there's that energy to do my job thing. Why do we have to go to bed? Oh yeah, we all gotta work tomorrow.

...unfortunate, isn't it?

Answers in Time...

June 18, 2007-
I'm on a plane flying home to Nashville. I'm crying, pleading with God. I've learned how to ask for what I really want, and for the first time, I do it. These are the words scribbled on the back of my boarding pass:
Lord, may please I have a place to live and people to live with that I enjoy. People that I can share life with and hang out with in an environment that isn't stressful.

August 19, 2007-
I moved into the house with the boys (Bryan and Jeremy). The next day, they both go out of town. Come to find out, they are both out of town A LOT. I don't see them much. I have a hard time having relationships with them. They are boys, after all. What did I expect? I wonder how this is possibly the answer to my prayers. It doesn't make sense. God, did you hear my prayer? Is this the answer?

October 20, 2007-
I woke up at one in the afternoon, and I have a new roommate living in the previously empty room upstairs. Her name is Ashley. She moved here from Georgia for a job. We meet, and have lunch with Bryan. She's great. I wonder if we might be friends.

October 21, 2007-
I'm sitting in the car with Ashley. We've spent the whole last two days together, genuinely having a good time, and getting to know each other. She looks at me and tells me how glad she is that I live in the house. I tell her how glad I am that she is here. I'm wondering where she has been the rest of my life. We've already reached the deep level it takes me months to reach with another person. I suddenly realize that God answered my prayer. He just asked me to wait a while. And it was worth the wait...

I have a new roommate. She is the answer to my prayers. I am so grateful. Thank You, Jesus. You answered me, in Your own time. I couldn't have picked anyone better, at any better time. Only You could. But that's just Who You Are...

an addition...

I went to a Halloween party Friday night with my boss, and this was on her neighbor's wall. I thought it would be a nice addition to my last post. Isn't it lovely?

Under the Rug (or not)

I started my new job tonight. One of the fun things about what I do to make a living is that I get to work inside people's houses. And being the naturally nosy person that I am, this is fun to me. You can really tell a lot about a person, and about their life and how they live, by looking inside their house. Often what you find will surprise you. We as humans, trying to look like we have it all together, are so obsessed with image that sometimes we sweep the strangest things up under the rug. Tonight, once again, reminded me of how stupid we are with the images we put up. It's truly pointless...

Last December I had my annual Christmas party at the apartment I lived in last school year. The day of the party, I can clearly remember going to Wal-Mart and buying curtains to hang between my living room and dining room. The reason? Because my dining room was (until the day I moved out actually) full of crap that had been thrown in there when I moved in. And I didn't want anyone to see it. I wanted my friends to think that my apartment was very neat and clean, and I wanted to look like I had it all together. Oh, the irony. Truthfully, every single one of my friends that know me at all know that I am not a neat person. Often my surroundings look quite a bit like the inside of my head. Everything is randomly placed, yet to me it is all right where it belongs. Organized messes, really. But to the outside person it probably looks like chaos. Blame it on my type b personality :)

The question is why did I try to hide who I really was? Especially from the people who knew me the best? Why do we feel like we have to have everything perfect when we have people over to our homes? Our homes tell about us. Our stuff (or lack thereof) tells about us. I have to admit, I am the most comfortable in homes that aren't very clean. I am comfortable with clutter, and I am comfortable with stuff. In these homes I feel like I don't have to put up a front, and I don't have to appear perfect. I can walk around barefoot, and I can put my feet up on the couch (or the coffee table). These places make me realize that we are all human, just the same, and none of us have it all together. It makes me more easily willing to show my weaknesses. I hope people feel like this when they come to my house.

I love that the people I started working for today didn't feel like they had to clean their house before I came over. There was dog hair on the carpet, and dishes in the sink. I got to kick off my shoes and play with Carson in the middle of the floor, and not have to worry about breaking anything or leaving fingerprints on the furniture. Our homes are for making memories, and no one will remember how shiny our hardwood floors were. I don't want to not have people over because I didn't do the dishes yesterday or clean the bathroom last week. It's more important to me that my friends have a good time here, and feel comfortable being who they are without having to stay on their toes. Emotions are affected by environment, and so is comfort level. Don't you agree? I want the environment I share to be known more as a warm one than a clean one.

Image isn't just for show when it comes to our homes either, but that is another blog for another day. I leave you with this image as food for thought: When Deana came home from work tonight, I couldn't help but giggle to myself as she walked in the door. She looked perfect. Her hair was perfect, her clothes were perfect, and she had accessorized just perfectly (she works in a very high-end salon off music row). She looked very out of place in her less than perfect house next to her less than perfect (and quite dirty, really) son. So how does she handle this situation? She plops down in the middle of the living room floor, takes off (and throws) her high-heeled boots into the kitchen, and proceeds to grab Carson by the ankles, throw him on the floor, and blow a raspberry into his neck. That's who Deana really is.

I only hope we can all one day be as real as our homes make us out to be. That dirt didn't start out under the rug, anyways. Let it be. Dirt has character. Show it off.


***Edit: Jenelle- I'm not really sure I've ever used parentheses so much. It make me think of you. And laugh. ***

Newness

*Warning: the post you are about to read will probably be a collection of very random thoughts. My head is loud today.*

Occasionally, and I think I am not alone in this, I have these days where life is so overwhelming and loudly buzzing about me that I have a hard time doing anything other than running to my bed and pulling the covers over my head. No one can find me there. It's great. Thank goodness for a boss who understands and lets me go home half-way through the day so I can further this bad habit of escapism.

I think I might have been nuts for picking up another part-time job last Friday. I start tomorrow. It seems easy, but do I really want to work 52 hours a week? Let me tell you, nothing makes me want to go back to school more than the idea that I am now working three jobs. I guess we'll just see how it goes. I'm just having a hard time keeping track of all of my kids (and employers). I have a hard enough time keeping track of myself. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. Hopefully the money will be good, and that going back to school thing might happen sooner rather than later.

I found out this afternoon that I'm getting another roommate this week. The more the merrier I suppose. At least this one is female. It seems to be a week of new things actually. New tattoo, new job, new roommate. I wouldn't mind a new car next...hmm...

Besides all this, I'm also heartbroken. Selfishly. And I have no one to talk to about it. Hate when that happens.

Yeah, I'm done.

p.s....I'm still smiling :) He makes all things new. He's reminding me.

Goodbyes at Sunrise...

The clock in the car read 4:39am as I turned out of my subdivision and headed toward the airport. I had only been asleep for two hours when the alarm went off, so I wasn't really even tired. I had been psyching myself up for this all night. I was hoping it would be quick and painless, unlike my last three goodbyes. I made it to the airport in about fifteen minutes, parked the car, grabbed the keys, and headed to the terminal. I was early; they weren't here yet. The airport was surprisingly busy for this early on a Sunday morning, and I sent him a text to tell him so. He sent one back, asking if that meant I was here. Well, of course I was. It wasn't long before they walked up, both carrying some of his stuff. We all got in line for him to check in. We made small talk while we waited, and laughed quietly at each other a few times. After he checked in, we walked to the security line, and stood and stared at each other for a moment. He said we could go, and she said that yeah, she was just thinking it was time to go. She hugged him first, and told him she loved him, and then it was my turn. I, too, told him I loved him, and that I was proud. We snapped a picture, and then said goodbye one more time. As we turned to walk away, we found ourselves looking back just once, and I yelled out one more loud goodbye. We both smiled sadly to ourselves, and walked side-by-side out of the terminal. As we headed toward our cars, it seemed there was nothing left to say. It was done, it was over. It was just goodbye. Just another goodbye at sunrise...

truth

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
-Jesus (John 8:23)

The Truth sets me free a little more each day, and it's changing my life. Oh, and it's permament. Not only on my foot, but also in my heart. I'm thankful for the Truth I continue to find to replace so many lies that I've believed for way too long. Thank You Jesus, for being the Truth. May I always be reminded, and may I keep finding new truths with each new day...

Irreplaceable Lessons in Unexplainable Love

Right now I am sitting in one of the five gazillion branches of the Nashville Public Library surrounded by strangers. Yes, I have a computer at home, but there is just something about public libraries that has always attracted me. Of course the number one reason is because I love to read, and an endless supply of books I can read for free definitely sparks my interest, but there is also something about the library that makes me happy on the inside. And that, of course, always inspires me to write. So I am going to take this chance to write what I am thinking RIGHT NOW, instead of waiting until later when I am too tired to write. Here goes...

The last few days (or weeks, rather) I have been overwhelmed with gratefulness for knowing the people I know. I am convinced that God has blessed me in such a way that I am friends with the greatest, most humble, most beautiful people He has ever created. But as I was thinking about it this afternoon, I realized that I am grateful for the people in my life for all different kinds of reasons. My friends are most definitely categorized, in many different ways, and many of them fall into more than one category. And these categories play different roles in my life. One thing is for sure though, I am equally grateful for each and every one of them.

I am grateful for, and forever indebted to, my friends that are older than I am. I have been blessed to have older friends that are wonderful teachers, and that are willing to share their stories with me so that I know someone else has gone through what I go through. My best friend is 8 1/2 years older than me, and while our friendship started with me leading her to Jesus, she soon cut in front and I now look to her for so much advice about growing up. She makes me not fear getting older, because she does it with such grace. She would do anything for me, and proves it over and over again, even when I'm a brat. She holds a special place in my heart, and always will. One of the dearest friends I have ever had (you know who you are) is five years older than me, and has taught me (or rather, let Jesus teach me through her) more in the seven months we have been friends, than anyone ever has in my whole life. She has come the closet to loving me like Jesus would than any friend I have ever had. I learn patience and perseverance from her because of how she is toward me. I respect and admire her more than she will ever know. She reminds me to breathe. Another friend of mine who is three years older than me has taught me that it is still ok to speak truth to people that are older than you are. She has showed me how to be a friend to someone who doesn't want a friend, and she has listened as I whine about life almost every day. I am forever indebted to my older friends. Without them, I would be blind to hope for the future. I hope they know the impact they have made on my life.

I am grateful for, and most easily am myself around, my friends that are the same age as me (give or take a year). These are my closest friends. The ones that I share mutual give-take relationships with. The ones that go through the same struggles and stages that I do, near or at the same times as me. Most important of these are the friends that I have come to share all parts of life with. I have a group of five to ten people that I can share my joys, struggles, heartbreaks, and celebrations with, at all times. Some of them I talk to every day, and some I don't, but these are the people I run to when something exciting happens (even if it's only exciting to me), or when I'm having a bad week. They speak truth into my life even when it hurts, and they party with me when we have something to celebrate. These are the people that show up when they know I need them to, even if they have nothing to say. They know me well enough to read me, and that speaks volumes. Life would be horribly lonely without these friends.

I am grateful for, and have the most stupid-fun with, my friends that are younger than me. It is often these people that remind me that I take life a little too seriously sometimes. They remind me to let go and play, and help restore a little of the innocence I lost such a long time ago. They teach me patience, because I have to remember that I once didn't have anything figured out yet, either. They make me miss being young enough to not worry about so much, and they keep the child inside me alive. They give me someone to take care of, and they make me feel cool. They give me someone to pass the wisdom that I have received from my older friends onto. I am positive my life wouldn't be so much fun if I didn't have friends that were younger than me. They make my heart smile :).

We need other people in our lives. We need the people that walk in front of, the ones that walk beside us, and the ones that walk behind us. I am also lucky enough that I have many friends that do two of these things, and a few that even do all three! Those are the most precious by far. My friends are my family, and lately I have realized just how blessed I am. If you are reading this, and I call you my friend, then know that I am grateful for you. You are special to me. And I thank God for you every single day. I am blessed to know the most beautiful people God has created, and I am blessed to call them my friends.

Showing Up

Another sudden death occurs in my life, and again I find myself asking why. Again I am reminded how quickly life can be gone, and how sometimes we just don't expect it. Sometimes it scares me to think how sudden death could come, and I think back on the occasions of my life when people have passed in surprise, and how we have dealt with it. I think about how people reacted, and how tragedies like these have seemed to shape our views and shape how we deal and heal. Another friend my age has died, this time to sudden sickness instead of the car accident we dealt with as seniors, the suicide we dealt with a year later, and the heart attack just months ago. This time I ask myself if I should show up to this one. I worry about who I might run into if I do, or what I would say if I ran into those more torn up about it than I am. But then I remember that I of all people should know that it's not about words and it's not about image. It's just about showing up. It's just about the silent respect shown in taking the time to come and support those who are hurting in a time of loss. It's just about being there.

When my dad took my mom to the hospital that last time, and I found out a few hours later that she would die within the next day or so, I was in too much of a state of covered-up shock to call people. I was afraid to ask my freinds to come and hold my hand because I had always played the strong one, the one that didn't need any support. I could stand alone. Right? Much to my surprise, within an hour my pastor and my best friend at the time, Katie, were both standing beside me in the hallway of the hospital. It was very late at night, and I didn't expect anyone to come. I later went home with Katie and tried to sleep alone through the night (without much success). The next day was one of the hardest of my life. What stands out to me the most, though, is remembering who showed up.

By ten the next morning, about ten of my friends had elected to skip out on church and come sit next to me in the hospital instead. Some sat for an hour, and some sat for two days. My best friend was supposed to leave for Georgia that morning, and I told her that she could go, but she knew me and knew I needed her, and she showed up. My other best friend was on the other end of the state working at a camp, and couldn't get away, but after hours of us crying on the phone, she announced to her supervisor that she was leaving. And a few hours later, she showed up. My best friend from middle school who never came through for me showed up later that afternoon. A friend who was still grieving the death of her father two weeks earlier also showed up. They all came to sit with me in silence. Words were not needed; their presense was. Whether it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, people just kept showing up. That was what mattered, and that is what I remember.

So when I sit and debate about this funeral tomorrow, I remember how important it was to me that people showed up. I always want to be the person that shows up, and knows that words are not necessary. I pray that I will always have the kind of friends that just show up, because it seems I have been blessed thus far. Death sucks, and it's not an easy thing, and it doesn't always make sense. But we don't have to play strong, and we don't have to stand alone. It's ok to reach for a hand to hold. I'm gonna show up to this memorial service, and I'm gonna hold somebody's hand. Because to me, that's what it's all about. I'll be there, Holly. We will all be there, holding each other's hands, as you stand and watch, holding the hand of Jesus. Rest in peace.

ok i lied...

i will eventually post the other half of that last blog. i just can't seem to get my words right. i need to work on it some more...stand by :)

Prelude to "The Other Me"

I've never told anyone this, but when I was seventeen I was diagnosed with a personality disorder by a social worker. I think I've never told anyone because I thought it made me sound crazy. And well, yeah, I am a little crazy :). I've been accused of having more than one personality on occasion, but I've always denied it. I don't think I would have ever admitted this if it wasn't for a series of events from the past week that caused me to realize that this may be a part of me, whether I like it or not. Realizing that, and also realizing that this disorder was not caused by my own actions, has made me more willing to admit to it. So now I would like to share a piece of me that is becoming more exposed, and therefore is a wound that is beginning to heal. I'd like to explain why I struggle with this disorder, and what happened to me to make me into two different people. This won't be an easy story to write, and it may also not be an easy story to read. But it's my story, and I choose to now to step out of the shadows and whispers and claim it as part of who I am.


[the following entry will be the piece i have entitled "the other me". but seeing as it is well after midnight, I am waiting until tomorrow to post it. fyi.]

[and just in case anyone is curious, this makes much more sense of me that i ever could (though it does make it sound a tad intense):
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/borderline-personality-disorder.shtml ]