My Story Not Yet Complete

I am 14 years old. I have become friends with the monster. He tells me my body is a bit pudgy in certain areas. He tells me that they will pay attention to me if they can see me losing weight and counting calories. He is telling me all the things wrong with me that drove away my friends. This monster is ever present in my mind as the scale looms. He is holding my hand on the way to class. He is whispering lies in my ear as I speak with peers. He is telling me over and over again that I am unworthy of love. He likes to isolate me, you see. Hey, hey, but it’s okay. He is a jealous friend. He desires me all for himself. One on one relationships are better for us anyway right?

When I am 15 1/2 I think that the monster has been put to rest. I am going on dates and kissing boys. Yet I remember a not so far away time of kisses shared with the same sex and I am confused. My faithful friend comes back and tells me to fake it with boys. The result is a kiss in a tree with a friend/enemy watching from the ground, cheering on my humiliation; the result is an emptiness and a lack of knowledge of what love truly is and can be.

I am 17 and the dancing queen-except I am the unwanted burden of a daughter; the trophy daughter that did not recieve the trophy. I am kicked out and pulled back in. I am at last the one thing that no one wanted. The monster comes back to tell me it is all my fault. The monster is back to whisper that I am unloveable, I am a dark cloud, I am a failure, I am a stray dog that they took in for charity yet realized they don’t like dogs much later. I am the extra fat that they could use to trim off.

I am 18 and alone in a new city with no one who knows my name. It’s me against the world. I have no friends for I am in a place where the familiar is no longer a thing on my radar; I have become a constant adventurer. I have a hard time trusting that the phrases that people say are just words; I have a hard time believing that people do not have a hidden agenda. I am consistently asking God why no one loves me. I am hearing the whispers of the monster that I am better off alone. I am feeling the spiraling not-so-soft pull of feelings of inadequacy and dreams of failures at events that have yet to occur. I am a displaced individual adrift the comments and feelings that others may or may not mean with malice.

I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am the warrior princess. I am Leslie Knope. I am Rapunzal. I am Sleeping Beauty. I am my own Prince. The monster is now a dragon that has grown so huge I cannot take it on by myself anymore. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am learning that asking for help is a good sign. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am a student of healing now. I am growing from who I once was. My old friend has finally been slayed.

“The enemy is dead-and we have killed him.”

Cheers to a lifetime of depression. Cheers to a life left to live in freedom.

I am the burning bush. I may be rough around the edges and scratch and burn if you come too close to the core. But inside of me God is speaking. Don’t be afraid. Don’t run away. Don’t give up on me just yet.

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Definitions

Beauty is lying next to someone and laughing hard and loud in the dark. 

Friendship is watching a film you both enjoy over again, just to get back a glimpse of what made you love it the first time. 

Love is two who become one on a night set apart by celebration and cheers and laughs and a set of rings and all of it has an undertone of commitment for a lifetime. 

Purity is finding the one whom your soul loves and craving indulgence yet refraining out of recognition of a greater Love from the Father above. 

Tribute to the ways of Old

Moving. It is an interesting thing. For example…

The Tuesday before my graduation on Friday and my moving day on Saturday I cried over classmates I had only weeks ago thought I’d never miss. Suddenly old memories were flooding my brain as the tears flew down my face and I realized that all my talk was a lie. I really would miss these people and this stage of my life. I was moving on and that is so exciting but I couldn’t neglect to remember this beautiful time that was my life. I loved going to school from 8-4, even though I said I hated it. I liked getting up with a purpose in the morning and knowing I would see my classmates. Although we didn’t always get along, it was nice to know that a normalness awaited at school. My classmates that Tuesday night all reminescied too, and talked about many things. Fears, anxiousness, cuss words, cancer struggles, friend struggle, depression, suicidal thoughts, ect. were all discussed. Usually we wouldn;t, but I think everyone on that trip realized we were a disfunctional family all along. 

Anyhow, even though I cried that night I also had fun that week. I jumped in a lake, I made up with people I always thought I’d hate, and I came to terms with leaving. At graduation during the video they play with the sad music and baby pictures made me cry because I could almost see these people’s stories played out on that screen. We all had become real grown ups, actual adults. It was time to go. Yet, I cried through the whole video. I looked across and locked eyes with classmates who shook their head at me or smiled a smile that made me cry harder. But once the video was over, and it was time to walk across the stage, I felt that strength come back in my system. 

I was ready. 

I had cried my tears, I had hugged and taken pictures, I had done my time. It was time to get that diploma. So I walked across and got cheers of applause. I got flowers and gave them away. I got a lei that made the headmaster question me on stage which made me laugh. I threw up my hat and said PEACE to high school. My boyfriend spun me around like crazy and hugged me tight. My friends came and gave me hugs and congrats. I said my thank yous and gave my last drops of good byes. And I left.

The next day I got up and got ready to leave. All my boxes were packed, all my items were ready. At 530 on a Saturday afternoon, I said goodbye to my old bed, my old room, my old house, my old life. And I got in my car and drove to say goodbye to my bestest friend. Then I left Enid for good. 

See, where did all of those tears go? I was truly ready to go and leave and move on. I had prepared my mind and heart and soul and calmed my storm that Tuesday night and Friday night said good bye. I end again by saying moving is a funny thing. I’m glad I’m here. I find it hard to miss old things because I am happy where I am. Yet I loved that time in my life. 

This is my toast to my old life. Cheers. 

The Evolution of Perception

What happens when it’s over?

When is it over?

I’m just confused.

So you’re born, right? And the connections you have (idealy) are trifold. You’re mom, dad, and Jesus Christ. Okay, then you get passed around to the family and you meet grandpas and grandmas, aunts and uncles, the cousins you’ll barely see, the boyfriend of your cousin you’ll never see again.

Then you grow up some more and meet people. Then you build real relationships (for a 6 year old) with playground buddies. You are confused and you know you have two sets of parents but that’s all you really know. You know mom cries sometimes but you don’t know why. Mom sleeps during the day and you cut your hair. You spill milk too, and you get in trouble. 

Then you grow up more and move to dads and it’s different here and you are treated like a doll. Then you grow up and new babies arrive. You love them, you want to build relationships with them. Yet someone stops you. That’s her baby. You aren’t. Step away.

So you get a little bit older. And the stories don’t add up. Mom hates dad and dad hates mom. Where is the consistency? Where is the reality? This has to be a nightmare. Was it always this way?

I’ll never forget being 16 and being told I was fat. This sent me into a spiral if anorexia I will carry with me for the rest of my life. All because of a comment from my father, the one I tried to please most.

Now you’re 17. Now you can’t see your boyfriend. Now church is less important than family. Now you don’t do enough, more more more. The constant grounding and controlling creates voices in your head and lies and stories and sneaking. Now you get ignored or are treated like a maid. Now you don’t appreciate. Now more. Now more. Now you are depressing. Now you are irrational and flighty and a “slut”. Now you are called more names than at school. Now you are being “treated like an adult”

I’ve learned to make my own family. Because the people who hurt me the most claim to have supported me the most. And the lack of validation and care over all is what has broken me.

“I loved you and it didn’t matter to you”

I’m Okay.

I saw the way you looked at me,

As if I was hopelessly drowning in the sea,

Floating, or rather sinking, in troubles,

But I assure you, there is no struggle

Or inner fight in my soul, I am just sad.

And I will tell you this, my friend,

Before you and I’s journey comes to an end

It is okay to be sad, mad, angry, or upset,

To be skinny or fat, to be calm or fret,

However it is not acceptable, it just will not do,

For me to sit here and pine and whine over you.