Whirlwinds.

Loneliness.

Oh, how you’ve been a friend to me.

Thankfully, one I’ve seen less and less these last few years.

But you’ve got me perplexed.

How is it we are so far from each other one moment, yet so close another?

I think I’ve found the reason:

We want to be close.

It may be difficult to believe, but I’m truly beginning to think the root of isolation begins within.

 Clearly, we don’t sit around thinking about how much we can’t wait to feel lonely.

We don’t sit around dreaming of feeling isolated and unloved.

However, we certainly tend to believe we’re screw-ups.

That we’re hard to love.

That if we mess up just one more time….

Which is why I’m suggesting, maybe that old adage, “It’s not you, it’s me,” one thousand percent applies to this.

Recently, I’ve been privy to experience love in a new way.

Dozens expressed their love to me through phone calls, messages, comments, and texts when I finally admitted how I felt about my family situation.

It made me realize, though they may also have some fault in the situation, I was the one who kept running so quick, I totally missed what they were trying to offer.

Maybe they weren't offering it the "best" way possible or how I needed it, but at the end of the day, the views I thought they had of me and the views they hold of me are largely different.

Just because someone isn’t always up in your business or checking in on you, doesn’t mean they don’t care.

It also doesn’t mean they do care.

But it’s better to check than simply assume they don’t.

Because sometimes, we get so caught in our own whirlwinds, we forget to stop, and breathe, and remember those who’ve blessed our lives so very much.

Black Sheep.

I'm going to do something I really don't ever do.

I'm going to be very raw about my current condition.

I've just spent the last hour crying.

A small part of it was probably self-loathing, as is nearly all crying. 

But a very, very large part of it was grieving. 

For most of my life, I've just assumed no one liked me, and I wasn't worth the time.

I constantly worked to be loved.

As a child, I was told to be a quiet, good little girl. 

I was called "fat ass" by my mother's boyfriend and often snuck food when he went to sleep because I felt so much shame from his judgement.

I was told to leave him and my mother alone because they were busy, and I would ruin it.

I was trained on snaps to bring beers, and I watched my mom starve herself and attempt to make things perfect for her man, in her own attempt to earn love.

Because of my parents' (and their significant other's) drug issues, they became the black sheep of the family. And because I was their child, I got looped into the category. 

Maybe that part wasn't intentional, the part where I fell into that category, but the truth of the matter is, it's the category I was placed in. 

I flash forward to today where so many things are different...

I've escaped a life of addiction.

I've come out of a dark depression.

I've learned to love myself (most days) and to love others.

I've cut the web of lies associated with the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse I've experienced.

I'm finishing my last semester of college, and I'll be the first person in my family to finish a post-secondary education program.

When I'm not crazy busy with 18 credit hours and a job (like this semester), I do my best to see and help the ones I love.

But somehow, I still feel like I'm sort of the black sheep of the family.
Like nothing ever really changed.

Now, I realize performance should have little to do with status in the context of familial relations. 

But it does.

And I'm left to wonder how, despite everything I've done to get to today, why is it I'm still the one serving time for my mother's crimes?
Is it not enough I lived through years of abuse and neglect?

I don't say all of this to play the "victim card."
In fact, those who know me know how little I talk about my past and how much I detest people living in victim land.
I say all of this in serious consideration of the question, "when is it enough?"

My mom and my grandma tell me no one tells me anything or invites me to family events because they just assume I'm busy...

Well, yes. I'm busy.
But so is everyone.
We make time for the things we care about.
So not including me in family gatherings, not informing me of important information because I'm "busy" just tells me I'm not worth telling, and I'm not valued enough to be considered or wanted somewhere.
All this cycle reinforces is the lie I've worked so hard to destroy.
The one that tells me, "No one wants you. No one loves you. No one wants to be around you."

Yes.
My mom has sucked; she'll be the first to admit that.
And up until very recently, I wouldn't have confided in her, even a little bit.
But you know what?
This afternoon when I called her crying because I made a mistake by unknowingly making an incredibly heartless statement to my cousin because I wasn't aware her baby had passed in utero, she was the one listening to me sob, and she was the one who understood what it felt like to be the black sheep.

I still don't know when enough is enough, when we give up.
I'm thinking the answer is never because Jesus never gives up on us.
But in this moment, I am hurt.
I'm sad that I hurt someone else because of my ignorance.
I'm sad I'm left questioning my own self-worth.
And I'm sad that all around the world, there are so many people in broken relationships with the ones they were meant to love the most.

Heat.

I used to think when someone said something in the "heat of the moment" they actually meant it at some subconscious level but were just never able to say it under normal circumstances.

But I'm not sure I believe that anymore.

I think those moments bring to light our greatest insecurities and illuminate the struggles we've worked so hard to get past.

In the "moment," whatever that moment may be, our guards are down.

A small bit of us is back to being that kid that struggled to make friends or that guy who just missed the cut.

Briefly, we're thrown back into all our old battles. 

And sometimes, we let our feet sit there and sink in.

We may even wiggle our toes a little.

But after we get a good slap in the face and shake our heads, we realize that those words came from the fleeting moment of insecurity we had.

They don't actually mean we've relapsed.

They just mean that, for a moment, we forgot that we decided to trust in something more than our insecurities, something bigger than our smallest selves.

And I think that's okay.

So long as we continue to fall forward, not letting our feet sink into the muck, not letting it get up to our necks.

It's hard to be human.

It's hard to be strong in every single moment.

So stand back up.

Brush off the sand.

And remember the truth.

You are loved.

You are wanted.

You are insanely valuable beyond all compare.

And nothing you've done yesterday or today or will do tomorrow can separate you from the awing love of the One who created you.

Absolutely nothing.

Happiness is the Wrong Goal

It's still the first month of the year, and every year I hear one resolution that I just can't get down with:

Happiness.

Now, before you go calling me a cynic, let me explain...

I'm all about being happy.

Happiness is a good thing and a very legitimate desire.

Some days, I deeply desire to be happy.

But happiness is never my ultimate goal.

Why?

Because it's a feeling.

Quite bluntly, there are moments when life just sucks.

At least once a week I wonder what the heck I'm doing.

In those moments, I generally have no control.

And in those moments, I do not expect happiness to be rampant.

What I do expect is to stand on my principles.

I expect to remain positive while still being realistic.

I expect to think critically and act on fact rather than emotion.

Because acting on facts will ultimately lead to greater satisfaction.

And greater satisfaction will beget more moments of happiness.

All I'm saying here is that if my goal were simply to be happy, I would go around making decisions in this moment about things that I think would make me happy.

But at the end of the day, being with someone or having my dream career will not make me happy if I can't stand firm on my principles now. 

Choosing to seek happiness by doing whatever makes me feel good now will surely lead to ruin later.

This isn't me saying don't do things that make you feel good.

You should absolutely take time out for those things.

But when you're upset with someone, choose to love them anyway.

Don't go running to someone you shouldn't for happiness and affection.

And when the day doesn't go your way, choose to see the good in it.

Don't go running around saying that all you want is to be happy and nothing ever goes your way.

Because happiness simply does not work like that.

It's sadly often not a free gift.

It's something that must be cultivated, wrought from pain, wielded from the darkest of nights, and harnessed to shine from within, not gathered from the world around us.  

To Be...

Alone.
It's how I've spent the majority of my years.
It's a terrible thing to be... except for when it isn't.

Being alone isn't really all that terrible.
In fact, we are required to be alone for nearly everything we ever do.
There may be people around us, even ones who claim and prove they love us, but at the end of the day, it is ourselves we are left to answer to.

I used to believe I loved being alone.
As much as I was repulsed by my loneliness, it was safe.
I knew how to navigate it. I knew that in my loneliness, no one would ever be able to see the terrible things about me. And no one could tell me how repulsive I knew myself to be.
I believed I deserved my loneliness, that I was destined to be alone.
No one could reach in.
And even if I wanted to, I could never permeate the glass that encased me, separating me from the outside.

Then, after a lot of fight, I learned what it meant to not be so alone.
I learned that loving someone, in every single way, was worth the journey, even if it meant getting hurt.
And you know, I've been hurt quite a bit by letting people in.
But I've also been surprised by the kindness that I see.
I've been wrapped in unimaginable love.
I've found solace can be found in people, not just places.
I began to delve into those who allowed me in.

But I think in all that learning to be together business, I forgot some of the importance of simply being alone.
I forgot to guard my heart from those who simply wanted to tolerate me or use me.
I forgot that it's okay, even necessary, to be alone sometimes.
Especially when you're running from it.
And being alone after being together doesn't mean you've lost your luster.

There is a stark contrast in loneliness and being alone.
And keeping someone toxic in your life to simply avoid the loneliness that sometimes accompanies being alone is a terrible idea.
So, as hard as it is, I'm breaking free of that.
Starting now.
Because living a life of "second bests" is and never will be okay.
I am worth more than that, and I hope that you see you are, too.

Throw Me Away

The older I get, the better I am at letting people in, at trying to love them.

But the easier I trick myself into believing they care at a level that transcends time, culture, norms.

I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, but I also need to remember, that at the end of the day, it's not their job to care for me that way.

Today, a friend of mine who I consider to perhaps be the closest, who I've spent at least a day, sometimes multiple days, a week with them and their family, including Thanksgiving and Christmas last year, told me that their mom more or less said I couldn't come to their Thanksgiving gathering this year because "not just anyone" could come.

Not just anyone...

This is the same woman who I've spent nearly every Saturday night, and many other nights with, over the last year and a half, getting to know her and her family, being a part of the silliness, sadness, and seriousness of life. 

And to her, because I'm now no longer a prospect for dating her son (his doing, not mine), I'm somehow just less, even though all year, I'm not less, even though last night, you invited me to dinner, told me to get whatever I wanted, and paid for it.

So what makes me not family? 

My name? My unfortunate blood line? 

Why do holidays equal exclusion instead of inclusion of all the people we claim to love throughout the year? 

I don't know. 

I don't think I understand or that I'll ever be able to. 

But I know that I don't ever want to make someone feel the way I feel right now.

I don't want my life to be "invite only." 

I don't want to make anyone else feel stupid for how they're feeling, kind of like I do now.

After all, we're only human...

Longing

I desperately miss writing. 

I have all these thoughts swirling about and haven't had a ton of time to process them.

Nursing school is no joke, but I feel this insatiable need to write.

So, I'm going to.

I have to. 

It seems so strange that a compulsion as theoretically arrogant and mundane as writing can be a driving force, but it is. 

Hopefully, the words that flow from my fingertips will be ones that hit deep, that both uplift and encourage while presenting challenges. 

I've learned an incredible amount in the almost year and a half since I've used this platform for my creativity, and my heart and mind are blooming with new insights and connections.

Here's to the hope of taking time to process the world and doing so with the eloquence and cohesiveness that can only come through writing.

beautiful.i.am

Why do we search so long?

To be affirmed. To be told something that's already true.

To hear that we're beautiful.

Innately, we are selfish.

We are born believing we're awesome, the most beautiful creatures to grace the planet.

But it doesn't stay that way.

Somewhere between the terrible two's and the tweenage years, we discover something heart wrenching: we're ugly, unlovable, unworthy.

The extent of this thinking depends on how much reinforcement these lies receive.

And how well we're able to throw them out of our minds.

But to some degree, they stick, and the need to eradicate them, to prove them wrong to ourselves, is something we succumb to.

I'll be the first to admit I've done some seriously stupid things in the name of beauty.

In the name of needing to feel loved, cherished, beautiful, wanted, delighted in...

Even though I knew it would be fleeting, at best, I still gave in.

For a long time, I didn't even see what I was doing to myself; or maybe I just didn't care. 

Because in that moment, I was wanted, even though I didn't always feel beautiful.

And I wonder...

How could it have been different?

I know we can't change the past, but we can change the future. 

We can turn our negative thoughts into positive ones.

We can lift up the good in those around us.

We can learn to see the good in ourselves.

And we can begin to see these "flaws" in one another for what they truly are: different ways to be human.

Because your kind word, your simple statement of truth, could be what someone needs to get through today.

And tomorrow.

 And the day after that. 

It could be what forever changes their heart and the way they view, not only themselves, but others.

Are you willing to speak up?

To speak out?

To tell someone they are lovely in every way and let yourself believe it?

Your words, thoughts, and deeds are far more powerful than you know.

Don't underestimate them.

Magic

For the first time in my life, I can wholeheartedly say I'm not focused on any guy.

I'm not chasing any lovers. 

I'm free from the bone-crushing loneliness I once felt almost every night.

And it's amazing.

Yes, I still want a man to love me.

Some day.

But it's not so important that someone loves me as it is that I feel loved.

It's not worth settling to be seated next to man.

I would rather wait a thousand years seated alone than be with a man who isn't good to me.

Real love is always others' minded; it does not seek self over anything or anyone else.

And when two real loves work in conjunction with each other, the result is like magic.

Life is too short to be in a love relationship that isn't like magic. 

Just a Whisper

What is a life? What is death?

Is someone else’s existence really mine to hold?

I have a very different view on life and death than most people I’ve encountered.

Guess what?

Life is fragile.

All the time.

It’s a fragile, priceless gift.

A gift that we’ve been given freely.

We aren’t promised that it will be easy or that it’ll last as long as we think it should.

And when someone passes, we have no control over it.

Instead of being pissed off because I want someone back or I don’t think they had enough time on this earth, I am thankful.

I’m thankful for whatever amount of time I have been given with that person.

Every moment we shared was a gift.

Their life was never mine to hold.

But I’m so thankful I got share even a small piece of it.

Life happens.

Which means death happens.

It’s all just a part of how things work.

Life is but a whisper, a wilting flower fading with the grass.

Listen to the whispers around you.

They’re more valuable than you can imagine.