My history, my confession.

I am a different person, completely. There is no question about it. The past year has changed the way I view myself and the world so many times and in so many ways. Let's start from the beginning... Or, the beginning of the chaos.

When I was in middle school my depression began. I felt lost and uneased. I expected to feel free, and it was admittedly nice to be in a school where I was not made fun of for doing my best and being intelligent, but I still did not quite fit in. I kept a smile on my face and fine tuned my sense of humor to keep others laughing, even when I was ready to vomit with anxiety. I was afraid of being rejected so much that I often spent days with stomach aches because a word with a mildly negative connotation was spoken toward me. I engaged in self-mutilation and suicide attempts, which I kept secret. Looking back, I think I was liked. I still have friends from that time and people still find me on Facebook to catch up.

In high school, I was so content. I was confident because I had friends who loved me and I actually fit in. Most of my friends were in another school, but I spent a lot of time with them on weekends. We had fun, shared the same sense of fun and humor. I had my moments of insecurities, but I had a second family, the family of a guy I loved.  We were together for nearly 3 years and even though we fought sometimes and disagreed on some things, we were good together. When we broke up my right before Senior year, I thought I would never love someone again. I was sure of it from the utter, heart-wrenching devastation I felt (in fact, I didn't get over that feeling until over 3 years later). All my friends moved away for college, and I felt lost and alone. That's when I made friends with a few guys who made me feel loved, at ease, good. We had fun and I could be myself-- silly things like candle-light Dominos dinner. My Senior year was wonderful.

College... well, starting college was hard. I nearly lost a boyfriend to suicide. I played the part of his parent, his teacher, his friend, his girlfriend... it became too much for me to handle, and when I received a suicide letter, I felt my heart ripped out of my chest and lay broken on the floor until I heard news of his survival. I wondered if I did the right thing, if I was being punished for pursuing what I felt God had led me to do. Maybe I was wrong and I wasn't in the right place. As my college years went on, I continued in my faith and I grew out of my anger. I had many epiphanies and grew greatly. I was confident in my skills and believed in a future. It wasn't easy, having 3 jobs, being in a leadership position, and going to school full-time.

It wasn't until college came to a close that my life spiraled completely out of control. As much of a mess as I thought I was before, I was still pretty far from the bottom. I got into a relationship where I thought I met the perfect man. He was younger than me, which was surprisingly new for me. Perfect date. Perfect body. Perfect intelligence. Christian, but down to Earth. I lost my virginity, what I always held so, so close to my heart. I instantly felt horrified and cried on his bathroom floor for a good hour. Then I just decided to stand by him, fight for us. Maybe he would be my husband one day. Sex can just be for him. Then he left me after only a couple months because I was emotionally unstable. Found out I had a miscarriage and bled for 22 days straight, nearly needing a blood transfusion. I survived it. I moved on. Got into a relationship with a man 11 years my elder. He had a good mind, we agreed on some big ideas. We dated and had sex. I decided sex was just for someone I loved. For a year. As time went on, I felt very emotionally abused. Everything I did was wrong. My feelings were unjustified. I felt too much or not enough. I was limited in the amount of time I could spend with my friends. They didn't like him and he didn't like them. He didn't want company. He didn't like me traveling without him. I was trapped. I was convinced nobody would love me better so I stayed. We moved to a city where I did not know a soul. Started a new life. Got more miserable. Cheated on him with a person who ended up using me for nothing more than sex. When I finally left, he threw my stuff outside and I had to live with a coworker til I could get my own place. I was diagnosed as bipolar. Ended up with FWBs and temporary boyfriends. My sex partners went from 2 to 12 in six months. I tried to make it mean something, but most of the time it didn't. I wanted to enjoy sex while I could before my disease took that away along with the prospect of childbearing. My last relationship was just me being used by a man-- for my honesty, my trust, my money. my affection.

I was miserable. Lost. Alone. Afraid. Hopeless.

I hit rock bottom one night when I was on my ass drunk. I was with a guy I'd spent time with many times, hung out with and knew he cared about me. I never would have dated him, but we had fun. We usually stayed at my house but this night I went to his house under the condition of no pot and no strangers because I didn't like who he was with his friends. Once I was already under the influence, people I didn't know came over. I had a severe asthma attack and felt like I was dying in the bathroom. They put me in a warm shower to help clear my airways and took off my clothes. Eventually, I ended up laying on the bed, too drunk to move but still aware of my body. Everybody had left but my friend and a random person who had joined the group. I heard the guys talking, basically the black guy asking how much to have sex with me and the guy I knew considering it before saying he wanted me for himself. Unfortunately, the guy I knew was so high and drunk that he became almost completely unaware of himself or what he was saying/doing. The new guy pushed his limits, from sexual assault to rape within minutes. I didn't move because I knew I couldn't fight him off-- I was too drunk. I waited for the guy I knew to say something, to kick him out, to fight with him. Something. Anything. But he didn't. When the black guy finally left, I got up and screamed at the guy I knew. I threw stuff. I was angry. I asked him how he dare let somebody do that to me, how he could not defend me. He didn't believe me. Called me names. Said I was a liar. I tried to find my keys and my phone to get away, to leave. I couldn't. So I ran naked down to a neighbor who called the police.

I was at the end of my rope, utterly and completely broken. My life felt over. My body fought my mind through suicidal thoughts. I fought anxiety, didn't want to leave the house. Didn't want to see people again. My family and friends took care of me, doted over me, loved me, hugged me-- were more incredibly compassionate than I ever knew.

It was my family and my friends who kept me here and got me through it. I ended up shortly after meeting a man. I was falling for him quick, and I felt guilty and weird that I was. I felt like my life should be over, that I shouldn't be surviving this drop to the bottom so quickly. Shouldn't I be lost longer? Why am I not dying of shame and anger and resentment?

I realized that I would never have been in that position if I hadn't drank. I would have left when things started feeling wrong. I would have been able to leave without being intoxicated. I would have been able to think straight and find my keys. I would have been able to fight back. There were so many places in the night that things could have been completely different. So I had found a way to move on. I found a solution, something to blame, so to speak. I don't have to be scared anymore because I won't be in that position again. Then, I realized that, even though in part of my mind and in the mind of everybody who knew of my rape it was way soon, I felt completely in love. This man and I shared the same ideals, political views, parental views. We'd had similar histories with our past relationships. We both always had to be mature for our age. We had the same love language, relationship style. He was incredible intelligent and talented. He was an awesome father of a sweet 6-year-old who soon adored me. He was cute and sweet. He was perfect. He was my boyfriend and I was head over heels in love with Christopher Bird.

We are now engaged with a wedding date set and a venue booked. In only 5 months, I went from rock bottom to my highest high. I have a family. My parents love him and have realized how incredible he is and how he makes me feel. It's quick, I know. But within a week of knowing him, my heart took a leap and I knew he was the one God sent to help heal my brokenness. He is the greatest support. He adores me and I am the best me when I am with him. He makes me want to be a better person, a stronger person, a stable person. The dream I always had of being with someone who made me feel completely comfortable being myself and having a child and a home and a life together-- it was finally true. In my spiral, I had given up on that dream. Now, I am living it. And it is so blessed. And it is so good.

So to those who are judging me for jumping into an engagement too quickly, I want you to know that I understand where you are coming from. If I was looking at someone doing the same thing, I might very well want to tell them the same things you're telling me.

 But with my life, with my past and the path I stumbled down... finally being happy and being me without shame after feeling the ultimate shame... I will take this chance. I will be in love and I will build my life. And I will be proud. I will use my past as my strength. I will put every ounce of my being into being the best person I can. Please do not put a timeline or limits to when I can become who I am meant to be just because you don't understand it.

Needs and Wants

Somewhere around a year ago, a very good friend made a comment leading to a huge personal revelation. At first, I was insulted at the implications but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was undeniably true:
I have a pathological need to be needed.

I am attracted to distraught people. In some ways, I blame it on my own period of extreme brokenness. I felt so lost and alone and I never want anybody to feel that way.
I would rather be the person they can count on, to sacrifice for them to
keep them from ever doubting
the existence of love. 

If we look at my past relationships, they mostly focus on me providing a need for the other person. Anything from encouraging self-confidence to giving them a place to live to paying for their school. Fortunately, almost all of these people respected me enough that they didn't "use and abuse me." They were always grateful.

I felt significant.
I felt important.
I felt fulfilled.

Fast forward to a very recent addition to this revelation.

In addition to wanting to provide for others what I felt I was denied, I think my maternal instinct in a way factors into the equation. The whole being a provider thing. Also, that is a huge way I show my love and affection for others.

Even greater than this... I realized this morning as I was putting my contacts in to start my day:
I have a pathological need to be needed
because
I'm afraid I'll never just be wanted.

I've been told many times, "stop finding someone who needs you and find somebody who wants you."

And, of course, I absolutely theoretically and philosophically agree.
So why don't I do that?

Because I've never been kept around just because someone wants me.
Friends, yes, they some have.
But in romance?
Not really.
At least, it has never felt that way.

I want to be with somebody who does not need me, but appreciates what I offer.
I want to be with somebody who loves me and wants to be with me.
Just because they think I'm awesome.

I just have a deep-rooted fear that me--just me-- will ever be enough.


I have no deep revelation for how to get over this because, well... I just don't know how to change it. I like being needed. I'd love to be wanted for more than that. Just something to work on, I suppose.

Honesty

I have done a lot of thinking today because I'm feeling very distraught from the epitome of cognitive dissonance, if you will. I don't like talking about specific situations on a published blog. I prefer it be simple and thought-provoking unless the story really adds to the meaning. In this case, the situation leading me to think so deeply is less important than the thoughts to which it has led.

I think something people tend to believe/feel --be it due to society or television or friends or advise-givers, I don't know where it originates-- that when somebody calls you out on something, the only chance you have of surviving is to lie. Like, "if I confess that his/her concern is legitimate, it will be over instantly. At least if I lie, I have a chance of getting through it."

It really is an interesting idea
to choose to become something you are not
to express feelings you do not have
to state events that have not occurred
all in order to "keep peace."
To me, it is a perfect display of cowardice.

If anybody has followed my writings for any period of time, I am convinced he or she would notice my lack of mainstream conceptualizations.

I see things much different;
or perhaps I am one of few who will express thoughts honestly.

Regardless, I am about to do it again. 

As usual, this is MY VIEW.
My view from the depth of my heart in the most honest words I could possibly express in this exact moment (i.e., one day it might change when I gain more understanding and wisdom).

Lying is the most repulsive, pointless, and excruciatingly disturbing thing a person can do to somebody they care about.

Period.

When somebody points out a concern or a realization or asks a question,
the instant thought should not be
        "lying is my only chance"
but rather
        "being honest is my only chance."

There have been multiple people in my past that I have been very close to, strong emotional bond, immense trust... and when something came up, when I voiced a concern, they either played dumb or straight up lied.

I give people the benefit of the doubt and give everybody a chance.
I always will -- and perhaps that's my flaw.

The problem is nobody seems to think the way I do and it always puts me in bad situations.
Honesty is so important.

I would go so far as to forgive somebody for cheating on me if only they were honest.
"Honey, I have been interested in talking to this other person and said some things I shouldn't have said to both of you at the same time. But I want to be with you, it's over with her, please forgive me."

Sure, it will be a challenge, but I would forgive it.
We would move on.

But if I was to find out about it through other means, to find out somebody had a lapse of reason and kissed another girl, or told her he was considering her as more than friends and confront him about it--
lying to me will hands-down, without a doubt be the exact moment our relationship ends. 

We won't be together.
We won't be friends.
We won't recover from hostility and resentment.

And, to add an even more personal element to this confession, every time these situations come up is when I've decided to take a chance in overcoming bitterness/fear/cynicism. It is one of the most depressing things I have ever experienced: to take a chance in trusting someone who seems sure of what they want but turns out having no idea until it is too late.
Sure, I can respect the fear that might lead to lying sounding like a good idea...
but just don't.
Don't.
Do not.
It will kill everything in the end.



"I can always find someone to say they sympathize
if I wear my heart out on my sleeve.
But I don't want some pretty face to tell me pretty lies.
All I want is someone to believe.
Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty is hardly ever heard,
and mostly what I need from you."
Honesty -- Billy Joel

Meaning of Spirituality

I lost my grandma a few months ago in a very, very painful way (and I’m sure I’ll be posting about that soon since her birthday is coming up). A few days ago, a friend I don’t speak with frequently at all posted on Facebook that his grandmother was passing away and he was broken-hearted. We spoke for a little while about how to get through the pain losing somebody we loved so dearly.

 

Something I told him had me thinking a lot. It was more like a revelation as it came out of my fingertips as I typed to him. I believe that there is something bigger, that our spirits are connected. Sometimes our spirits reach out for something and we don’t even know it. We are flawed and our brains can’t always tell us what we want—but our spirit knows what we need. Our spirit is who we are, and it isn’t afraid to reach out to get what it needs. We are responding to something we didn’t know was even there but it ends up being perfect. 

This got me thinking about the comfort I received from people I have known, the way their spirit touched mine in such an extraordinary way. Three people really came to mind when I thought about it, and it can’t be overlooked that I knew them all from the same ministry. In addition to making me love and respect these people more, this revelation has been about how much hope Campus to City Wesley has given to people like me.

 

The first person that came to mind was a display of love.

Derrick Scott. There was always something incredibly endearing and comforting about his presence. He always had a joy in his eye when he saw people and spoke with them. Even though he always had something on his mind, I always felt important when I saw him because you could always see the respect, joy, and love in his eyes. I can remember a number of times, both at individual coffee meetings and at community nights, where the minute he saw me he smiled and his eyes lit up. No, it wasn’t romantic and I never thought that, but it was just beautiful and comforting to see the way he cared that I was there and hoped I was well. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody else whose genuine eyes impacted me so much.

The next person who came to mind was a display of acceptance and a lack of judgementalness.

Katherine Card. She was a comfort to be around because she didn’t judge, she just comforted and loved. She always had some kind of joy and peace in her eyes, too. She was sometimes distracted with school and struggled with believing in herself. But she was always sweet and loving. The way she held herself, her laughter, her eyes. She was somebody I thought about what she would think about my decisions, and I wondered if I should tell her, not because she judged me but because I kinda didn’t want to let her down. She was genuine and humble in a way that was remarkable, and it didn’t make me feel judged.

Finally, somebody came to mind that seemed to really display joy and peace.

Christina Gonzalez. She went through a lot in her past and in her heart, but she always displayed joy and peace. She was somebody who walked in a room and her laughter lifted my spirits. She was optimistic and sweet. She was very understanding and listened very intently, responded to what you said. But she brought a comfort of happiness. I can remember telling her about a heartbreak, and yet somehow the brokenness went away and I felt joy just being around her. Something about her presence just calmed my spirit and what had me feeling so broken felt so light.

 

It is a miracle to me how my spirit finds what it needs. We are all flawed, myself and these people too. But when you value your spirit and feed it the right positive nourishment, it’s amazing the impact you can make on others.

 

Derrick, Katherine, and Christina are all people who will be the first to admit their faults and fears, but their spirit is genuine and loving. I miss them and I miss the way my soul was comforted when I was with them. I never realized how important this was. I want to bring peace to others’ souls, to be the comfort that others’ souls seek.

The presence of people who value that reminds you that there’s nothing better than allowing God to work through you in that way.

 

They’re encouragement. 

And I value them very much.