dear Willow

Dear Willow,

My heart aches when I say your name. I don't even know how to start, because just seeing it causes a pang of guilt and pain. You were not a plan, but you were a choice, and given that choice again, I would choose to keep you as safe as possible.

Your whole short life was not without great purpose, and God used you to bring me back to Himself when I had wandered very far away. I was in such a dark place, but losing you was almost like someone finally turned the light on.

Your father and I were very selfish, and I am so sorry, Willow. You were made in lust, not love; a selfish, impulsive moment led to you. But when I knew you were here, I loved you with my whole heart. And when he left me, I clung to the little life I had inside me, the hope I had to go on. But within a few days, you too were taken away from me- and I have never felt more hallow and empty than I did that week.

Losing you was like- being ripped open- but slowly. I could feel every fiber of my heart being pulled apart. I didn't want his child, but I wanted mine. And you were mine. And just as I came to terms with being pregnant, you were gone.

I wouldn't go back, but I wonder what would life be like had you not been taken so soon. I wonder what kind of mom I would be on my own, or if I would want him a part of any of it. I don't think so. I think I would have wanted a better daddy for you because your father was not a good man. I'm sorry Willow, that I made such selfish and horrible choices that caused all of this.

I chose your name on an impulse. I was driving, and sobbing, losing you, and alone. I could feel my soul growing older with every tear that fell, and the name Willow settled onto my heart.

It was then that your auntie Kate came in with conversation asking about you and how I was feeling- Kate's middle name is Ruth. And it seemed there was no more appropriate person to name you after than the only woman on earth who knew what was going on.

Willow Ruth.

Willow means graceful, and Ruth means faithful friend.

It was this event in my life that began a turning point for me. A turning back to God. And you, my beautiful Willow, are that Graceful event. How I wish things had all turned out differently and different choices had been made- but how thankful I am that I am home. I'm home in the arms of the same Christ who cradles you until I can. I am home. I am home, and it's because God chose to use you to do it.

I will always be a little sad when I think of you, but I will always be more thankful. You, my first child, will always hold a special place in my heart. I will think of you when the man I wish was your daddy and I get pregnant with our first baby. I will think of you when I feel them kick. When I deliver. When I hear them cry. I will wonder what your first word would have been, or how old your first step would be taken at. I will think of you when I read Goodnight Moon for the first time. I will think of you when I sing the I love you forever lullaby. I will look down at my next child and wonder what kind of big sister you would have been.

I will wonder forever, but I will always smile, because you have been used in the greatest measure of my life. I am going to commemorate you soon, my baby girl, with a tattoo on my upper left ribcage, close to my heart. I don't ever want to forget you and the beautiful life you had.

Mommy loves you Willow!

In sickness and in health

It's too soon for this post. It's not fair that we have to fight so hard, just to breathe. But here we are.

The first time I sat down to write this, I had just entered a very challenging time with my boyfriend. Together only 2 months at the time, he was dealing with a second bout of depression just since we'd been together. He assured my fragile heart it wasn't me, but that there just wasn't much I could do either. Facing that season- and watching someone I love struggle through such inexplicable darkness was a unique kind of isolating. I wanted to love the actual hell out of him- but anything I thought of was of no interest to him. Even sex which we happen to quite enjoy as a couple, he'd long since lost interest in. Communication of any sort was difficult at very best. I wanted to write and let others in similar situations know that they aren't alone, and that dating among demons is doable. And let them know that I suffered through with my man, and we made it, and they can too.

I thought I had so much inspiration to share with the world. So much strength to put on display.

"See, dating with depression is doable! You can still have love!"

However, before I could write out the pain I was feeling, the sun was once again shining for us, and the weight of the darkness we'd just fought off slipped so quickly into a distant memory. We free-fell once again into plans and dreams and bliss for our future. We talked travel and children and hope, love and passion grew, as if nothing had happened. He gives me butterflies all the time. He calls me "doll". He makes me feel like I am precious. And I felt so so so happy.

And then it happened.

My own demon showed up and sat beside me, just letting me know he was back. The medication I had been taking for a few months had kept him at bay- so at first, I denied he was really back. But over the next few weeks, he got closer and closer. And by Sunday afternoon a week ago, his beady, deathly eyes were staring into mine, draining the life from inside me. Before I could even get home- his hands gripped my throat and my heart began to pound- it felt like it was going to beat out of my chest and shatter on my steering wheel. My lungs began rapidly heaving with the hyperventilation that had quickly settled in. My gut erupted up through my mouth and ungodly, darkness-saturated screams filled my empty car. Tears gushed out of my eyes and streamed down my face. Every gasp for air was followed by another hallow, hopeless scream. Every time I tried to clamp my mouth shut and stop the horrible screaming, out another would come up anyways, from deep down inside where everything was all broken.

For the first time to my knowledge, I cried out "God, please just kill me now. Just let someone run into me and end it all. Just make it all end. Let me wake up in Endless Light."

I have never actually wanted to die. But I can assure you, last week I did.

Suicide has always seemed so selfish- and it is. But I get it. I get just wanting that horrible feeling to end. If anyone is in that much pain, isn't death going to seem like the only logical out? Why are we offering assisted suicide to end of life cancer patients and shaming those who's agony is less visible? I'm not saying I agree with suicide in any capacity, but I get it.

The darkness felt so wholly consuming that the only way to escape it was to be wrapped at last in Jesus's actual arms.

There are many capacities to the healing and restitution I have experienced since last week. Some medical, some spiritual, some emotional. But this post is primarily about dating through this.

And my man was there. Never shaming me. Being patient with me. Loving me in his own ways. Being present when I need him, reaching out in ways that meant a lot to me.

We've only been together since July- and already we have faced two bouts of depression, a hospital, and now a severe anxiety attack. And we have stood by each other, supported each other, loved each other, and been light to each other when our worlds felt otherwise consumed in darkness.

We made it. And although work has been insane for my amazing man this week, he has made sure I'm ok. He's been there for me. He has given me his love as best as he's been able.

We're stronger. As people, as a couple. Because we chose to fight through this together, and fight for the other.

It. Is. Not. Easy. Nothing about this is easy. Some days I wake up and realize none of it was happening- because this isn't the last time one or both of us will enter a season of darkness- but it's worth it. It's worht it because we have learned to fight for the soul in the other person and created ties between us that I would argue are uniquely stronger than those of a mentally healthy couple. We're stronger than this. And we're strong for each other.

We can do it. You can do it. Jesus hasn't left us to total darkness. Our people are worth our love. They deserve the light we can bring to their lives.

Fight for the light in your loved ones life. He/She is worth it, and the bond it creates is payment enough.

I'm not ok

i'm not ok

this isn't a happy post

but i'm afraid if i don't bleed here i might bleed somewhere else.

there's just nothing.

there's a total lack of feeling other than broken.

i spiraled

i fell.

i shattered.

i have chased every passion to fill the hole.

but it just keeps getting bigger, each distraction leaving behind more disappointment than the one before.

i'm not even asking to feel happy, just alive.

i'm trying to ground myself as i type- i'm having one of the worst panic/anxiety attacks i have ever experienced.

the yelling and the crying and the screaming and the heaving and the hyperventilating.

i want to scream screw you God because above all the pain i feel, the lack of Him is most pointed.

my heart is absolutely gutted right now...so where is he? isn't he supposed to be near the broken hearted?

when did his promises stop applying to me too?

when did he give up on me, and can i please have a do over?

everytime i think i've found something to help me survive, it gets ripped away.

for the first time in my life, i felt my heart change towards someone, and she died, and a part of me along with her.

so i crashed into anything that made me feel the same spark that she ignited in me.

but i found selfish lovers and heartbreak after heartbreak.

i left a job i left for a job with more money

i met a boy who took the most precious thing i had to offer. i gave it, but he had no seconds thoughts taking it.

he left me.

my grandfather died.

the man with disabilities i dated didn't even want me.

and finally i thought i'd found it: my person.

someone i could be happy with and build a life with.

i wake up every moring to a good morning text.

every picture i send is returned with a compliment

every trashy remark i get from other men is reported and contradicted with a reminder of my worth.

but then i snapped. the weight of the anxiety i had started taking meds for put the pressure on me.

the fingers flew the texts went out and the line remained quiet.

i have done what i have always feared: i have suffocated a person i love with the weight of love i want to give.

i got one text from him in the last 24 hours- just one.

"im here"

that's all he's said.

my heart is breaking thinking about facing the possible reality of being left again.

and then the attack hit.

so here i am wailing from the deepest part of my heart

typing to grasp reality

watching another precious thing slip through my hands.

and i'm drowning.

when does the drowning end?

when do i resurface and deeply take in the fresh air?

when does the pressure come off my chest, and the light fill my soul again?

when does the constant aching of my soul find satisfaction once again?

when does Jesus come back and take me in his arms, wiping my matted hair from my dirty face and kissing me tenderly on my brow?

when do i feel like a child wrapped in safety instead of a child left alone?

when does it end?

when is it over?

wake me up when september ends.

Me Too...Me still.

The liberation I personally experienced with the #MeToo movement is beyond comparison. I was able to share as much or as little as I felt comfortable with and still make it known, "Hey- I was abused." 

But I'm ready to talk now. I'm ready to open my bleeding heart and weep, with a naked soul in front of the world. 

I'm in counseling- because 16 years later, I still haven't processed so much of it. Did you know that your mind can essentially blot out memories? Whole years actually? It's a form of self-protection- but it's also kind of terrifying: instead of just blocking out the bad parts of childhood, I don't remember almost the first entire 9 years of my life. Some memories stand out, but most of those are recallable because of pictures that happened to catch those moments. 

Unfortunately, 9 was too old to be able to forget. And so many details of that wretched afternoon stand out, creep down my spine, grip my throat, and make my stomach lurch. The panic, the desperation, the hopelessness, the dirtiness, the shame...the secrecy. It comes back in a rush and all the sudden, I'm that lonely, broken little girl again, stripped of all that made me who I was. And I haven't been her since. I'm huddled in a dark corner, knees pulled to my chest, hallowly watching the walls of who I am, crumble. I can't stop them. I can't understand it. I can't change it. I feel betrayed. I feel empty. I feel alone. I feel dark. That moment comes back and taps me on the shoulder and I feel so vulnerable- like if someone stares too much, I'll shatter under the weight of it. 

I remember the day my mom looked at 10 year old me, and asked me, "where did my happy girl go?" And empty, confused, 10 year old me didn't have a clue what to say. Because at this point, that moment was locked up. And it wasn't until I was 14 years old, I experienced a trigger that was the key to unlocking that moment. So at 10, I was completely lost. I was drowning and I didn't even know what under. I just knew who I was had been ripped away, and I was suffocating. 

When I was 14, and that moment was opened up, the truth came gushing out like a waterfall, and the process began, but still hasn't ended. The correlation between how happy of a child I was, and how depressed I became wasn't made until adulthood when someone explained that the earth-shattering childhood I had, had created patterns of self-sabotaging behavior. And when I experienced grief after grief, I finally shattered again. The pieces of myself I had reconstructed, the person I thought I had built- she was so shallow, still so empty. She didn't know who she was either. I'm still that broken little girl. Nothing has changed, the hurt has just changed shape. 

I still don't know who I am. One day I woke up and looked around, and everything in my life felt like something I couldn't touch. People held no warmth. Moments joy didn't last. And Jesus felt so far away. Every day that passed by, He feels further and further away. Like He was the only happy childhood memory I had. Jesus, Sweet Jesus, my Saviour, my God...the only light in my childhood. The only light in my life now. 

I still believe at the very core of who I am that I cannot exist without Him, but I cannot find Him in myself. I search and I beg and I plead- but my life still feels like the same shallow hole that it has for so long. Is this just how it is? A passionless, dry, dull, empty life? Where is the fullness of joy? My heart aches for it.

I have chased the feeling of being alive. I have sought for the wind in my hair passion for life: I have tried the nights of endless lovemaking, the ecstasy of drunkenness, the laugh of a child, the high of a run, and delight of decadent chocolate....it doesn't matter. Nothing fills me. When I wake up, I'm still alone. I'm still broken. Around me still lay the fading pieces of a childhood I can't make sense of. I grasp for anything that promotes the promise of fulfillment or love. I have sought until the soles of my heart's feet are bleeding raw from the endless seeking and running and chasing. 

I wish I could leave this with "but here's how I have healed and how I'm doing better" but I can't. I can tell you this: I have a village of loving, amazing Jesus people who clear away the cobwebs of my passion-chasing mistakes and hug the broken little girl huddled in the corner. I have a man who reminds me of my self worth every time some pig downtown rolls his window down to yell obscenities. I have a community that spurs me on, that keeps me in church, that points me constantly to Christ- even when I can't see Him anywhere but in their faces. I have a beautiful family, that is so precious to me- all I want to do is protect them, and keep their hearts innocent to how dark my own has become. 

And I have only one last thing I can say: I still feel dark. I still feel shattered. Absolutely gutted and empty. But I am not alone. And I have one thing: I. have. hope.

One day, it all ends. One day the sun rises on that little girl- the bruises heal, the heart mends, the shattered pieces create something beautiful and touchale. One day she dances. One day her hair flows in the wind. One day her lover spins her around a field of flowers and one day the dark first 25 years become a chapter, instead of the whole story. 

Controversial Faith and my Taboo Life

My whole life, sex was something we didn't talk about. Not in a good way, not in a healthy way, but also not in a bad way. We didn't talk about sex, at all. I was told, probably in 8th grade: "babies are made when mommies and daddies love each other very much." And this was the extent of the conversation. Too bad for my poor parents, it came two years after a friend of mine divulged the details of her family life class to me. Their patronizing explanation left me with so many questions, and with the smidgen of information I had kept to myself for years, I did what most curious children did, and I tried to put the pieces together. 

Fast forward to 16 year old me, still trying to figure out the nuts and bolts of my own body, and I ask my best friend, "when they're trying to have a baby...does the guy have to pee inside of her?" Because   the very basic "how things function" was never told, never taught. It was taboo. I didn't understand how bodies functioned in the basic sense. I knew what my period was, and that when I got pregnant, I wouldn't have one for nine months. But that was it. 

And the thing about sex, is it's miraculous. It doesn't have to be this weird, uncomfortable conversation. Bodies do amazing things during sex- and they were designed to do that! How amazing?! And they were designed in such a way that sex is to be enjoyed by both people! And this was a conversation my parents and I never had. And now, its too late.

Because the other facet of the culture I grew up in was the idol of abstinence. There was no room for fault or failure and very little for curiostiy, and there was so much shame built into lessons on staying pure. It was well intended, and always done in love- but it was damaging. We still felt shame for simply having questions. 

So what did we do in adulthood? We said "f your way of life" and we found love in all the wrong places. We figured out how things work on our own, because we were sick of being ignorant. We didn't just want answers anymore- where they would have satisfied our juvenile hearts, we are now adults, and information is better experienced than explained. So we found ourselves in the beds of lovers with no commitment, and our hearts became cold and confused. 

We wanted to shatter the shame around it- and stop feeling guilty for feeling things. So instead, we threw ourselves deep into the life of having sex. Once it's open, it doesn't close. We are in the thick of sex, and love, and life. All the wrong ways, and I still don't feel shame. 

The thing I wish I'd known, is that having sex, doesn't make sex less confusing. It explains how it works, how it feels, how mindblowingly amazing it can be- but instead of confusion of how things worked, was the confusion of what love really is. 

Why is sex so built up? Stop making idols of not drinking, not having sex, and not cursing and just life your life like Jesus. He rough and tumbled with the worst of us, and He loved us anyways.

I'm not saying don't give a damn at all ever, but we have blown things so way far out of proportion. Why can't we have healthy conversations, in our families, our churches and our education systems about sex. Not in a way that glorifies it too soon, but in a way that doesn't build shame into it. 

I'm not sorry. As someone with an abusive past, I was terrified of what my first time would be like. Why on earth would I want that first experience to be on a Caribbean island far away from anything familiar? It wasn't. It was with someone who, though we didn't love each other, took his time with me, and made me feel safe. And if nothing else, I have him to thank for a good sexual experience. Because he taught me without the shame I grew up in. But what if it wasn't good, and I panicked. Would I really want that fear built into my marriage? I would argue no. 

What I want to understand now, is love and all it is intended to be. In each capacity, not just romantically or sexually. I don't regret it, I've learned from it. Should my story be different? Absoutly. The heroine isn't supposed to be so stupid. But it is what it is- we made our choices. Now we just learn from them and try to be better for them. 

I don't have the right answer, but the conversation has to change. We have to do better for our kids. No more shame. No more secrets. 

emotional booty call

my coworkers are loyal to a core and honest as heck. they are over this boy, this situation, and my constant heartbroken wining. my darling work twin told me i was just being his booty call, and when i confidently assured her we've never even kissed, she goes "fine, you're his emotional booty call." 

jerk. 

she's right though. if he seems evenly slightly ready to talk or hang, i will clear my whole day to devote to him. it's pathetic. when he's ready, i show the heck up. 

i'm working to just let him go, because he's clearly not interested or not interested enough in making a commitment at this time. i want to be ok with that, but i wholly feel like he's going to be the one that got away. and there's not a dang thing i can do about it. i've tried. i've tried to not let him get away, but i can't make him stay. its breaking my heart to let go of him, knowing i might not get him back, but i'm holding on to someone who isn't mine. 

.

.

.

we reached a new point in our relationship this week: i required that he respect me. he's not mean to me, but he blame casts on me and doesn't respect my time, even on just a friendship level. it's the first time i have told him that i'm not being psycho to ask for the simple thing that i was. something's shifted, and i don't know that i like it. 

.

.

.

i'm supposed to see him this weekend. and of course i want to, but i also want my heart to stop hurting. and maybe cutting him out of my life for a while is the best way to do that? 

.

.

.

to be continued. 

the cocoon exists

the whole time unnamed "best friend" and I have been talking, I've sort of just talked about the whole ordeal in terms of butterflies because we never actually were in a relationship. I made the bold and somewhat heartbreaking claim that the butterflies died. But the truth is, I'm 100% not over this boy. Not even a little bit. Everyone in my life is telling me to just dump him, get on with my life, get over him and get over the situation. "Find someone else, move on." But I can't seem to just walk away. I don't want to. I know what he can be, why can't I wait until he decides to live his life to the fullest? I know what they're saying, and I understand, but I'm not ready just yet to give up on him. I want him to be the best version of himself. I want to push him to that, and be his top cheerleader when he does. I want to be able to say I was with him when he wasn't his greatest, and get to enjoy him when he is. I don't want to just walk away because he's not what he can be. I won't. I can't.

And then he does it; he shows up. He's there for me. He texts me, just to see how I'm doing. He takes an interest and invests in me. He always disappears again, but just when I'm ready to give up, he shows back up. And when he does its right when I need it, right when I think he doesn't care. And it's the sweetest, most pointed and caring he's been towards me.

It's been in these moments I have realized the butterflies may be dead, but I think there's a cocoon, tucked away in the corner, waiting for a bright, bold butterfly to burst forth. maybe it's his butterfly, maybe it isn't. but either way, the hope isn't gone. and I'd be lying if I didn't add, I especially hope this boy comes around. if he doesn't, that's ok, but my heart will have a lot of healing and moving on to do if its not him. cos for me, its him. 

The Butterflies Died

They died because I've had to suffocate them. You will learn that I misread situations professionally. It is embarrassing and never any less. I didn't necessarily misread this one, but I hoped too strongly for how it would continue to read, and I was wrong. For the first time maybe ever, I could actually see and wanted, a future with someone. I didn't have a lot of reasons to think it wouldn't happen, except for my horrible track record, which proved consistent: I can't make 'em stay. I don't know what it is about me, but I get to a certain point with a guy and its like I hit the "repulsive button" and off they go. It's not even always at the same point, sometimes its a lot sooner or later than others. I have no idea what I do to cause them to so abruptly lose interest in me. But for one reason or another, they always just, stop. Stop texting, stop calling, stop dropping by, stop chasing, romancing and pursuing me.
.
All I want is to love and be loved. But I don't know how to do that. I have so much love to give, it's built up so fiercely. I'll learn your dreams and support them, and help you build them to make them a reality. I'll discover your demons and walk right into your darkness; I'll touch the most broken pieces of you, and love you more for them. I'll stand loyally by your side when everyone else says you're wrong, I will see the good in you when no one else can or wants to. I will defend you like you've never been defended before. I will love you to my own detriment, and keep loving you when I think I am empty. I will empty myself of love and still have love rushing in to give. I don't know how not to love fiercely. And all I want is someone to love.
.
.
Do you ever feel like "I'm about to make a huge mistake"...and know you're going to make it anyways? I'm there. He's not right, the time isn't right, my family wouldn't approve. My friends wouldn't understand. It would be chaotic, passionate, emotional, one to go down in history...it wouldn't be right. It would be all kinds of wrong. I think we would both encounter demons neither of us expects. And yet for two days now I have hardly stopped thinking about him. I hardly know him, I don't even like him. But I want this wild oat. This reckless fling. This thoughtless autumn lover. I want this chance to love with abandon and be empty and broken when it's over, because at least then I'll feel like I've loved. Because I'll know at the end of it someone felt all the weight of the love that's been building in me for so long.
.
.
.
The truth is, it's not this fling I truly want. It's the boy with the butterflies. The one with the beard, and the eyes and the hands and the fashion sense and the geeky side and the terrible shoes and the taste for black coffee and the horrible questions. The truth is I'm not over him at all, I still want him. And I can't have him. 

For more than a month now, my best friend has made me question everything. And I'm gonna be honest, I'm starting to lose it a little. We didn't dance the night away, but we did attend a formal event together. I felt like a princess before he showed up, but as soon as he did, I walked around like a freaking queen. I felt like absolute royalty. He was nothing short of charming perfection. But of course, he always is. 

Here's the reality: I am falling in love with my best friend. 

And he's not settled on me. He's not opposed to me, I know that much. But my heart is becoming more and more settled on him and everything he is, and he seems to be content exploring other options. If I had a dollar for everytime the thought "it's just not fair" entered my head, I think I could pay cash for the house he's looking at. 

 I love the area he's looking. I love his hopes and dreams, and I can see myself fitting so perfectly into them if only he'd let me. I love how sexy yet absolutely cheese sauce he is. And I love that he doesn't really seem to care what others think of him...until he's not sure how he looked doing something, then he's adorably self-conscious. I suppose I love and hate that he always asks me what I think of him and what he's doing. As if he's seeking my approval, but yet he doesn't seem to regard it as much. He doesn't, however, seem to ask other girls for theirs, so I suppose there's that to be thankful for. 

Oh, how my heart aches to just have answers. I'm not confused, I know exactly what I want. I know more and more every day, every prayer, every conversation that he is who I want to spend my time at the very least "getting to know" but if we're honest, dating...with. I want to date my best friend and I'm ready to risk it all to let him know that in no uncertain terms. He knows I'm "open" to the idea, but bro needs to know it's basically all I think and pray about. This potential future seems so logical. Seems so right. I have to trust the Father, and I'm trying. But man, if y'all knew this guy...you'd understand why the idea of letting him go is an excruciating one. 

An update on the butterflies

Almost a month ago, I wrote and a vulnerable and girlish piece about my best friend, and the butterflies he started giving me. real life update? they haven't gone away. they feel less school girlie now, and a little more like, "yeah this is the direction I want for my life at least at this point" they're very specific butterflies. we've now gone out (as I said in a text to my sister, "gone out", gone out? not sure.) twice now. I don't hate spending time with him. even if we're just growing our friendship, I'm ok with that. I like getting to know him without having to compete. He and I are walking a fine line if we are headed towards something more than friends. It would rock our friend group a bit. I wonder if that's why it's going slower than maybe it normally would. 

and then the demons show up. 

you know, those little hellions that get into your thoughts and make you question everything. the ones that don't even try to find tact, they just straight up tell you "he's too good for you."

"have you seen his body? way out of your curvy girl league."

"have you seen his ex? you're not his type."

"have you heard what he talks about? you're not cultured enough."

"have you listened to his week? you don't work hard enough."

"have you seen your own dating success rate? you're not datable enough."

"have you listened to your own stories? you're not interesting enough."

"have you looked in a mirror? you're just not pretty enough."

no matter what they feed me, I am never enough. and i struggle to combat it because i feel that. I will not be enough for this guy because he is, wow. he's amazing. his motivation, his heart, his work ethic, his personality, his dreams...to be honest, his face, hair, and beard...this guy has so much going for him. what do I have to offer him, but a 5'2" chubby body, a "spicy with a side of awkward" personality, and the guarantee that I'll make him good food? not much. I listen intently when he talks about his job- he works hard and I want to understand what he does. but I 100% cannot explain it to you. (I can, however, tell you his job title, so hopefully, that's a plus) he is up on all the pop culture, I, am not...not at all. he loves to quiz me on songs and drop references and I wish I got them, but I don't. I don't want to be a disappointment to him right out of the gate. I want to be what he wants. I don't want him to be disappointed that I'm who he gets if I'm who he gets. but I feel that ache in my soul, to want to please him, and feeling like I just don't quite get there. If we do decide to walk this road, I want him to be proud of me. I want to know he will proudly introduce me to his family, his people. we'll see what happens, but its a lot right now, and to whoever reads this, just pray for me. ya girl needs it. 

Xo,

Ellen

best friend butterflies

for as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be friends with a guy before dating him. I never really wanted to fall for a guy I didn't know well first, so friends first seemed like the best hope.

what I wasn't prepared for was how weird it would feel when one of my best friends started giving me butterflies. I'm in this weird place between "you're my bro" and "you're becoming so much more", I almost don't know how to reconcile it. I don't really know what he's thinking at this point, and I just keep checking my own heart like "hey, you cool with this?" cos its weird. he's always been something of a possibility, but also sort of out of my league. and now I'm faced with the possibility that we might actually be falling for each other. how. on. earth.

there have been times when seeing his name popping up on my phone has made me grin, but this time just feels different. this time I don't know what to think, how to pray, how to act, how to respond and certainly don't know how or if I should talk about it.

even if they all fade back into a simple, lovely friendship, thank you for now for the butterflies. I feel like you've taught me that I can love and be loved by anyone I allow myself to, and that's a beautiful gift.

Chronically Friendzoned

This always seems to happen. As soon as I feel confident enough to share with the public that I am "talking" to someone, it dissolves. It dissolves so quickly, I get a little bit of emotional whiplash, and I confess, that's where I am.

I'm not so angry anymore, I'm much calmer. But if you'd ask me on Wednesday how I was feeling, I might not have used such gentle terminology.

I have tried so very hard to trust the Father, but when you face the exact same recipe you did not a year ago, you start to wonder if all you put out there are "friend zone me" vibes, and if you're anything like me, you question how good He can be. I'm over the same storyline, God. I want to trust you, I really do, but if we could not hit the repeat button, that would be awesome. My pride, self-esteem, self image, and general attitude had sort of plummeted this week.

As you saw in my last post, all I could do was sing this guys praises. I still think he's got a lot going for him. But I think I have unluckily missed out on all those gifts of his, and he has set his interests elsewhere.

After my last love life fiasco, I didn't think I was going to meet anyone else who measured up, but in his own way, this guy did and then some. And after the time we spent together, and the time I spent in prayer, and the time I spent talking with other people, gaining their insight, perspective, opinion, and wisdom, the more I felt like "wow, this guy could be it." I could see how the details of our lives intertwined to create this beautiful story, starting with the very fact that I wasn't looking for him, and then one day he was just there, apart of my world and changing my life. I was always smiling around him, he really made me happy. But something about me, didn't meet some need in him, and our hearts went different ways.

I would be straight up lying if I didn't say that there is a small sliver of my heart that's hoping he's confronted with the reality that I just might have been right for him, and he comes rushing back into the scene, telling me how wrong he was, and professing his undying love. But this is real life, not a 1860's, midwest, 12-to-1 ratio romance. I'm fairly confident that it's over, he's not coming back, and his friend zone is where I'll stay.

I'm reading this book by this girl, who talks about seeing God as big (she compares Him to an ocean) but not as limitless (there's a shore on the other side of the ocean). She talks about trusting God with the idea that she knew He had it, and it was going to be fine, but she wasn't sure it was going to be good. I identify on a deep level with that.

I want to trust Him past that level, where I can solidly trust that His good is good, no matter how "not" good it feels.

I haven't had my best week y'all, but I've had a very real week. Pray for me. I'll be better than I am right now, and I'm better than I was, but I still want to heal some more. Because this morning sort of sucked.

"It will feel better than this. Maybe not yet, but you just keep living, until you are alive again."

Live through the pain of any circumstance, life didn't end because one situation did. There's life on the other side of that bridge.

the love life of ellen

I vaguely mentioned in my last post that I was "interested in someone". and I am, but as per usual for me, it's not without it's complications. since it's been a while, I'm a little rusty, and to be honest, it's so far gone pretty different than it ever has before.

we met, and I would venture to say, that it was fairly soon after there was attraction. but, smooth sailing? not. at. all.

it's been months of hit or miss flirtation and conversation. it's been long weeks of mulling over his bold comments, and wondering why I don't hear from him.

it's watching him speed off, and wondering what I could be doing differently.

it's saying a prayer for him every time I see a car that looks like his.

it's been months of falling slowly, steadily, happily for this guy, who has my brain in a tangled mess, and my heart right along with it.

I wish I could give you a nice long numbered list of all the reasons I find this guy amazing, attractive, and someone I want to get to know. but anonymity is still a high priority for me.

but please believe me, that I have an extensive list for all the reasons he's worthy of anyone's time and attention. I wish I could sit down over a cup of coffee, and talk to all you about all that he is. and about all the little ways I like him, and why he's likable.

but I can't. so just know for now, I need your prayers. he's amazing, but he isn't mine in the least. I just get to watch him at a distance for now. and that waiting place can be painful and lonely.

forever yours,

ellen

time: the great healer

remember in my last post, I publicly mourned the very awkward loss of my best friend?

well. I'm finally getting back around to writing on this blog, and when I saw that that was my last post, decided it should be an update.

if you're new here and you don't know what's going on, the long and short of it is, I fell in love with my best friend, and he fell in love with someone else. and where did that leave me? broken hearted and alone.

but things are so vey different now. it's been several months since I wrote that post, and I was incredibly frustrated feeling like our lives would never even out and carry on as normal. and in some ways, I was right. they didn't carry on as normal, instead, we found a new normal.

and I am happy to report that he and I are even better friends than we were before things really fell apart.

it's funny what a tragedy can do for people, and in so many ways, our initial friendship dissolving was a tragedy. one we came back from. and it did take a while. it wasn't natural, it wasn't easy, and it was definitely very messy. but here we are on the brink of two years of friendship, and it feels like a lifetime. he's the brother I never had, and I am immeasurably thankful for him.

as for me, I'm doing good. still single, but looking. interested in someone, but waiting. it's been a beautiful season, actually. I've learned so much about myself.

I am also happy to report that I have:

1) found a great church
2) gotten a new job
3) am looking into moving out
4) and am potentially going to Europe this summer!

so many things to be thankful for right now.

more to come, my heart has been so full.

XO,
ellen

Bexed friends

I always, always, always judged (harshly) the girl who wanted to "stay friends with her ex"

That is, until I was that girl.

And my best friend was my "ex"

And the situation was complicated further because, he wasn't actually even my ex.

We. Never. Dated.

But I digress...

For the sake of this blog, I am going to refer to him as, and treat him as though he were my ex. Because see the situation as it were, everyone, friends and family on both our sides were expecting it, looking for it, happy about it, and well really everyone, myself included, thought we were at the very least going to date. And where we clearly did not ever actually date, it somehow managed to be the most emotional, and difficult break up in my life. Moving on...

So one night when he, my best friend, looks me in the eye and tells me he's seeing someone else, and it's not me...my precious, fragile, pure world came crashing in. No, worse than that. It was annihilated. His words were atomic bombs laces with personalized poison. It was like someone just dropped the weight of the whole of the earth right onto my stomach. I literally almost threw up in public for the second time in my life. It's definitely the second worst night of my life. Hoping to never repeat either...

See during the time I was falling in love with him, we were falling into something deeper together: friendship. Where I was completely alone in the love, I was building a bond for life in the friendzone. He and I didn't do everything together, but we become stupid close. We talked all the time. We had inside jokes enough to fill a book. He was my personal chauffer, mechanic, confidant, tech support, he became my safe spot. I felt more comfortable around him than I have around any other guy in a very long time. Besides being in love with him, I grew to just simply, love him. (a post on this difference later)

 So in that devastating moment he became my "ex", more than just my hoped for relationship status changed. Every piece of our dynamic changed.

Maybe my opinion on girls staying friends with their exes would remain unchanged if he and I had actually dated, but you better believe I tried like heck to salvage the last bits of our now very broken and distorted friendship. That night left me feeling more helpless and vulnerable than I ever want to feel again. I wasn't just losing my potential boyfriend, if I didn't work to put it behind us, I was going to lose my best friend too.

And you wanna know something?

I lost him anyways.

I still see him at least once a week.

We still talk from time to time.

We still hang out a little.

But everything has changed.

No I don't still wish we had or were dating, I've moved on in that regard.

But there's an underlined strain between us that hasn't gone away. Still a subtle awkwardness that hasn't waned. Its ebbed and flowed. Gotten better than come back with a vengeance.

Trying to mend a broken relationship is like...trying to glue back a broken mirror. You can still see your reflection, but almost all you pay attention to are the cracks. It's been ugly a time or two, me feeling ugly and loveless and lonely. Him withholding and being withdrawn. Me snapping, him snapping. Strain on him, strain on me, strain on our friend group.

We get to a good place, and something resurfaces. Right now, although he's the one seeing someone, I feel he's upset with me because I am becoming interested in someone else. I am starting to feel angry at him for that. He can't have someone else and get mad at me for moving on. That might not be what's happening, but that's how it feels. And we are no longer in a place where I can talk to him about it.

And before I would have. I would have shot him a text and said point blank what was on my mind. Because he's my best friend. And best friends talk.

But he's not my best friend any more, and I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss my best friend.

Honesty from Ellen, Part 2: in the Real World

Well. It happened. Reality kicked me hard to the gut. I'm still reeling from the impact, still feeling like I'm going to vomit.

I knew it wouldn't happen, I knew deep in my gut, but for whatever reason, I hoped even still that it would. I knew he wasn't going to fall for me as fiercely as I had fallen for him, but I allowed the "little things" to build up and used them to convince myself that he was as into this thing as I was.

But he wasn't.

So when he told me he had found someone else, I felt like he had jump kicked me to the stomach. I sat there, feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, and shatter into pieces on my lap. In one quick comment from him, all the butterflies died. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears, screaming at me, "I told you so".

Over the last few weeks, feelings of inadequacy have plagued me.

"If I had been cooler"

"If I had been thinner"

"If I had been smarter...

...richer...

...prettier...

...funnier...

...more interesting...

...younger...

...less busy...

...more busy...

...been to university...

...had a better job..."


The list and the lies have droned on and on. They have left no thing untouched, and I feel completely deflated. What does she have going for her that I simply do not? Why could he never look at me and "wonder if". All it took for me was one "wonder if" and the snowball fall for him began.

So since mid-June, I've been trying to recover this blow I was not nearly as prepared for as I would like to have thought I was. And up until this week, I actually thought I was doing ok.

But here's the thing: he doesn't get it. He doesn't get a dang thing. He doesn't understand that everything I do towards him, I do out of love for him. Not romantic love, just deep, genuine, "I want the best for you" love.

If so many people thought he and I were together when we were not, then our behavior towards each other must change. In my estimation, this is very logical. However, he feels that since he started dating this girl, I have been just short of hostile towards him. I was sent multiple texts yesterday, informing me I have been "snappy" and "very rude" to him, and coming from him, this was devastating. He is one of the most gentle and kind people I know. This wasn't said lightly or without thought. I have tried to hold this whole thing together: bit my tongue, apologized for things I didn't feel I had done, I am still breaking my neck to protect him and make this friendship work, and yet he is upset with me for being "rude". I don't want to keep protecting him then. Let him ruin his own reputation and relationship- I tried. I cannot hold him up, and keep living too. I am breaking under the weight of it all.

I had expectations for this summer, so many expectations. And not only have none of them come to fruition, but things I hoped against have. What a disappointing and harsh reality.

All I have dreamed and prayed for is a Godly marriage and big family. I don't even have specific details for that dream and prayer, I just know that's what I long for. I don't care what color he is, where he's from, how we meet, or where we marry. I don't care if we have babies born of love between us, or if they grow first in our hearts, if they look like us or not, or all of the above- I just know I want several babies to love on and raise. I want to establish myself as his wife and baby mama. I want to chase the Will of the Father, and I truly believe this is it, so why can't I grasp it? Why is it continually brought down?

I don't mean to be such a downer, but my heart is so heavy just now.

Xo,
Ellen

Honesty from Ellen

Last year, I met a boy.

He's now one of my dearest friends.

And he's turned out to be one of the most amazing, incredible humans I have ever met.

And as any girl, like myself, would stupidly do, I fell in love with him. Somewhere between the donuts, the snapchat, the giggles, the Bible studies, and the dinners, I fell for him. I heard a quote once, "I fell in love like I fall asleep: slowly at first, then all at once". Yes. Because I can't pinpoint a moment; one day I just realized that I wanted him to be apart of the rest of my life.

I can both see this happening and being my forever, or I can see it getting shot down fast and hard. I can see him responding both ways; I can see it unfolding both ways.

I play tricks with my mind, running through the endless possibilities of what "might" happen or "could" happen or "probably will" happen. I get my belly in knots with fear of losing him or saying the wrong thing to him. I almost constantly worry that I am annoying to him, or that I have pushed him too far. I lose my ever loving mind all the freaking time, and go off, completely psycho on him.

And yet, he always stays. No matter how many petty things I yell at him about, no matter how many side eyes I give him, no matter how many times I get my fragile feelings hurt- he stays. To him, it's no harm done. To me, it's someone in my life who is faithful, even through the fire I douse him in. Please understand how huge this is. He stays. And he stays faithfully.

I am a person who equates love to feeling safe. And he makes me feel safe. Because no matter what kind of poison I have thrown at him, he lets it roll and he stays. This is why he has become one of my best friends, because he puts up with psycho me, so, so, so well.

I want and I long for him to be apart of my life, so badly, in a long term relationship way, that I have made the decision to let go of him.

Over the last several weeks I have made this comment to Kate many times, but I have begun actually acting on it. I have begun asking the Father to remove him from my grip- because my nature is to hold on too tightly. But I know when I do that, all I am doing is asserting my own will. All I want to do, is His will.

And then today, it happened. After all my prayers, and continually asking the Lord to soften my heart, to be open, to let go, and to treat him like the "just a friend" he is, my heart did something it has never before done when I have made the choice to let go: in my resolve and fruition of letting go, my heart began to ache. I was washing the dishes, when deep ache swept over me- realizing that letting go might mean I don't get him back. That giving him up might mean I don't get to hold onto him. But that was the point, right? To let go? So why did I ache so?

I believe because I finally did. I let go of the hope and dream of a "maybe one day" with him, and wholly resolved to enjoy my todays with him. Because today, he is just a friend, truly. I build up such a false reality of my "one days" that surrendering them, was painful. And today that pain settled on my heart.

I will continue to pray for him, I have no plans to stop that, but my hands are wide open. Free to receive whatever will the Father places on them, and willing to let go of whatever He takes from them. But I confess, today, my heart aches with the knowing of what may come.

XO,
Ellen

Thoughts from Kate- a love letter to God

"With you I am made new.
With you I am whole, not lacking anything.
You turn my darkness into light and my pain into joy.
You take my mangled and shattered, and make something beautiful.
With you I am brave.
With you I can take that first step off the edge.
Some days I don't know where I am going, but I know that with you I will be safe.
With you I am kind.
With you I can love with every fiber of my being.
With you, even my enemies know what it means to be loved. With you there is beauty in everything, even in the pain and darkness.
With you I have purpose.
With you I know what it means to have a burning passion.
You have given me dreams that fill my heart full of anticipation.
With you...I have you. No thing is greater. No person, no love, nor dream or reality.
With you there is the greatest love.
With you I have all I need."

The Day I Decided to be Body Positive

Body Positive.

Its a concept I came across on instagram when I stumbled upon the account "bodyposipanda" (seriously, look this chick up.) She had one of those ever beloved, transformation Tuesday, "motivational", before and after pictures. On the left, was a slender, fit, obviously very attractive-to-all-the-guys girl. And on the right, was a girl who was chubby. She had belly rolls, thigh fat, a slight double chin...this was her "after". And hands down she looked worlds happier than in her "before." And honestly, even more beautiful in my opinion, because happiness adds that kind of beauty.

Post after post she talks about how happiness isn't a number on the scale. You don't reach happiness when you reach a certain size, weight, or goal. If you're not happy right now, with the body you already have, you won't be happy when you get the body you think you want. It's such a simple concept. It's so true. And at that moment, I decided I was going to stop trying to lose the weight.

Being body positive, loving your body, and being happy with your body isn't saying "I love my body the way it is" and then eating whatever you want. Loving your body still means taking care of it. It still means eating good for you foods, and giving it exercise, because that's part of loving it. But the other part of loving your body, is loving it, even if it never changed ever again. For better or for worse. When I look in the mirror now, I'm not looking to see how skinny something makes me look or feel, but instead I'm looking to see if I like the style I'm trying out that day. I'm deciding on the color of something, making sure it's modest, and comfortable, rather than how my belly looks in it. I'm not 100% there yet, because I still don't like my belly, chubby thighs, or double chin, but I am learning to love these things about me, because they may never ever change. I don't exercise or eat well to lose weight, I exercise and eat well because I want to love my body and take care of it. But I'm not going to kill myself with either, because I love my body and I want to take care of it.

I want to be healthy, but that's the other thing this girl talks about: mental health. Psychical health has become socially more important than mental health. If you're fit, active, toned, have good eating habits, etc. you're considered "healthy" even though your mental health may be toxic. See, I get that. I love my mom so much, but she has suffered from an eating disorder off and on all through her life. Her mom is the same way. Even still they have had terribly unhealthy habits. Making unwise food choices: eating too much or too little. They are never satisfied with their bodies. Always and forever "ten more pounds". "once my body changes I will be happy."

No, happiness isn't at the end of my taco, but it also isn't at the end of your kale. Be healthy. Be happy.

Xo, Ellen

Only Sort of Feminist

Well it's international women's day. Logically, women were on my mind. I know a great many women, and many different kinds of women. I know women who work, women who stay home, women who have kids, women who have kids they adopted, women who work and have kids, women who work out, women who are overweight, women who are happy, women that are sour, women that are courageous, women that have wanderlust, women who speak three languages, women who are doctors, women who sell products out of their homes, women who have changed their world. In someway or another, every woman who has ever been has changed the reality of someone.

See, I don't call myself a "feminist". Because even though they proclaim "equality" they degrade men. Being woman is not oppressive. Women who think that have a warped perspective on what it is to be a woman! Being a woman is empowering and powerful, and always has been.

Women: the "man" behind their men:

Throughout history there is no doubt a great lack of recognized women in the renowned sense. But that's only when you look at the surface. Consider this: behind every great, powerful, and respected man in our history, there was more than likely a woman, not a man, who was there. There was someone making sure he had a safe haven, a clean home, clean clothes, food on the table, and that his babies were being raised right. But these women have always been so. much. more. Not only are they tending to the needs of their man, but they are also his greatest confidant, adviser and counselor. Women have such a rule and we don't even realize.

Women have always been powerful, but we have become discontent with humility. I don't say this lightly. Women have always possessed a natural power at commanding a room. The details of every woman's ability differs, but every woman is capable. And that's nothing new. What is new, is that we are shredding tradition that has cloaked us with a most attractive quality: humility. We've always been powerful, now we want people to recognize us for it. TEL ME HOW POWERFUL I AM. In our strive for the notable power, we have begun being a world full of awful people. We are actively degrading the system. Men who say "a woman can't do that" are being sexist. That is a true thing. But men who hold the door are being polite, chivalrous. Don't be offended when a gentleman offers to carry something heavy, that's not him putting you down, if anything, it thrusts you to a position of power over him. If that's what you crave so much, let him carry the darn box, and then you get to be the woman walking confidently, flaunting your womanly-ness and directing him.

 Allowing men to be men, thrusts you, naturally, into a position of power. If you want to get into the nitty gritty of a job, so be it. But when women say they "crave the power men have" I feel like they are talking specifically about being corporate leaders, and not getting into the dirty details of a job. Allowing men to fulfil their natural needs and desires to work hard, allows you the opportunity you so long for to be a person of power. Asserting your feminism only creates a fight, where asserting your femininity calls the attention you need to create power in a situation.

Women do have power, so much so, that we actually need to be really careful. Now that we have uncovered that women, do in fact, have great power, I have a warning. Women's power can quickly become manipulation. In our tasteful and classy ways of creating environments in which we have the power, be careful that you are not being a manipulator. Manipulation from a man is abuse. Therefore, in your fight for "equality", your manipulation is likewise abusive. Do not, do not, be a manipulator. Manipulators are toxic people.

Be feminine. And that will be enough.

But wait, there's more!

Remember when I was talking about the kind of powerful women used to be? I wanna touch back on that, because as powerful as it may seem and feel to command a room full of men in suits, I think the home is our greatest asset in our search for power. Not just being the biggest fan of the leaders in the world, but the molders, shapers, and trainers of the future leaders of this world. Being a mother is one of the most powerful positions ever created. Funny, it as one of the first ever created.

Women who work in the corporate world or in the home, it doesn't matter. You're your own kind of powerful! Own it! Work it! Use it! Make the world a better place with it!

#femininenotfeminist

Xo,
Ellen