What does it mean to be beautiful?

It's one of those mornings where I have to get down on my knees and pray. The words and emotions from a blog post I had just read echo in my mind: "I just wanted to be loved and accepted. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to be in control of something." And the way the woman did it was through bulimia and overdosing on laxatives because she was so scared to gain weight, even a measly 5 pounds. So she ended up in the hospital, barely escaping death. I was nearly brought to tears.

And yet, a fear then ran through me as I empathized with the woman and saw similar struggles.

I have to get on my knees and ask for help and forgiveness of my own similar desires. It's normal to want to be beautiful and feel like you belong. And yet, I have also believed the lies that to be thin is to be beautiful. To look a certain way means that then I will be loved and accepted.

Now, I must admit I'm nowhere near developing an eating disorder, but my weight and body do weigh on my mind from time to time. I sometimes check the scale, fear that the number will be higher than last. I look at other women and see how flat their stomachs are and how thin their arms are and I begin to dislike my body. Even though I've been told countless times "Hannah, I wish I had your body" or "You're beautiful just the way you are", I don't believe them or let it slide off because I fear that it will change one day and so I have to keep pushing and watching so that NEVER happens. So that I can always be beautiful and loved.

I know I'm not the only woman who deals with this. Almost every woman I know deals with body issues and the desire to be beautiful.

For me, I love being active: running, biking, hiking, dancing, sports, etc. are all activities I enjoy. I even realize that I sometimes need to be active for my emotional state. When it's been a rough day, a good run or jiu jitsu practice can calm the raging storm and I feel more at peace once again and can think clearly to deal with the issue. I started working out a bit more seriously recently due to more time on my hands and my desire to get better at jiu jitsu. Honestly, I was tired of getting injured and wanted to find a way to get stronger and better at my game. I wanted to be able to put up a better fight with the people I practiced with (especially since 95% of them were men who were bigger than me) and saw that I needed to get stronger and take care of my body.

And yet suddenly, after a few weeks of being in better shape and seeing the improvements in my body, I began to fear that I may lose it. I began to lose sight of the main reason why I wanted to be in good shape in the first place. Suddenly, it's a number of calculating calories and going for a random run just to make up for those cookies you ate after lunch.

My goals are to be healthy and strong. I want to feed my body the right kind of foods and exercise it in the way that makes it feel good and keeps it working well. I want to do it because I want to live long and happily. Taking care of my body is a responsibility.

And yet, to be beautiful doesn't mean I have to be thin or have the right hair color. For me, I want to be the beautiful person that when people are around, they feel loved and can seek comfort in. I want to make them laugh and feel better about life when things are hard and down. And I can be THAT beautiful person whether I weigh 30 pounds heavier or lighter. Yes, my metabolism will slow, my skin will sag, and my hair will grow gray. But in the end, I can work towards a more everlasting beauty and seek my love from the One who matters, who tells me that no matter how I physically look, I am still wonderful and beautiful in His eyes.

What kind of things you have started with the right intentions that have turned down a more fearful and anxiety ridden path?

A Wrestling Match

For this past week, I have felt like I've been wrestling with myself. Emotions like anger and sadness rise up, and I want to battle them back down and say "Get over this! Calm down." A wrestling match ensues between my emotions and the other part of me that desires inner peace. Eventually, we run out of a time and nothing is settled and I end up just saying, "Forget about it." And yet, the anger comes back the next day and we're in another tussle where no one wins.

So I turn to God and say, "Why am I so angry? Why am I like this? Why am I so horrible? If I truly loved, this wouldn't affect me. If I was wise and discerning, I could see the bigger picture and these small actions wouldn't upset me. Why can't I get this right and just be a better person?"

I apologize for the horrible way I've been feeling and in all the cruel thoughts I think. I apologize for falling so short. I tell God, "I'm sorry Lord. I have failed yet again. But I will continue to try and change!"

And finally, towards the end of the week, I sit down tired, not in anymore control over my emotions and thoughts than when I began. I turn towards Jesus and say, "I'm sorry. I want to be a better person. I want to be loving. I want to be peaceful. I want to be merciful, gracious, and so much. You have to change me."

He just smiles and whispers, "Stop trying to force it and just be happy where you are at. It will come in time. Enjoy the present you and give yourself grace in those moments. Then you'll be able to give it out that much more to others."

I realize it's the same issue: me trying to be perfect and in control. The me trying to change me, through methods of more anger and frustrated discipline. And naturally, only more rage and exasperation arises and a downward spiral ensues. But instead of beating myself up for all the ways I fall short, I must step forward and get on my knees at the cross and surrender. I must say, "I can not change myself. So please, do your work with me." I must not say this in a frustrated, angry voice, but with peace, acceptance, and trust. I am not alone in this struggle and there is a love there, waiting for me to step into it and be transformed, not through my will, but His.

Conflict in Relationships

"Why do we hate conflict?"

"Because it's just horrible," was the thought that went through my mind. I was in Chicago, listening to the director of my program speak about political issues and race. No one really said anything, but just stared at her. She continued on, "Really guys! Why is it we don't like conflict? Why do we avoid it so much?"

The conversation happened over 3 years ago, but it still lingers in my mind and I still ask myself, "Why is it that I hate conflict so much?"

Anytime I think of conflict, this horrible tension rises and my stomach begins to feel sick. I mentally think of all the places I'd rather be than in the location with the presence of disagreements and conflict. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to be anywhere, but where conflict resides.

Yet, as much as I don't like it, I have to accept the fact that I personally have probably grown the most after some form of disagreement or strife. And that, there are healthy ways to handle conflict and it's definitely a learned skill and something to be practiced.

I have to say that I've learned a lot about conflict from my good friends Isaac and Aidan (hi guys!). They love to debate, especially about philosophical and theological topics. And at the beginning, I was highly uncomfortable with it and often got perturbed. I hated debates and honestly, didn't want anything to do with it. I had only negative experiences with any such kind of debates and thought they were horrible. Yet, I loved the topics they brought up and wanted to participate in the discussions. However, the debate style made me anxious and nervous and I didn't know how to handle it.

I had voiced it to Aidan at one point and said, "Look at what I found! But I don't want you to find any loop holes in the argument and debate with me about the article. I just wanted to share it with you." I believe Aidan was kind of taken aback by it and he asked me about it. Him and Isaac then made it a point to be careful around me when topics came up. They often just sat down with me and asked me what I thought and made sure to affirm my ideas and put down my doubts. They were gentle with me in their discussions and really listened to me. I soon found myself much more comfortable around them when they debated and even adding my two cents here and there or asking questions. It took a while for me to learn to be present in the midst of conflict and be OK with that we were all passionate about our view points, but that it was OK to disagree as well. Just because someone didn't agree with me, didn't necessarily mean there was something wrong with me.

That's usually the biggest fear about conflict: that you could be wrong and therefore, there is something horribly wrong with you.

The next and probably biggest person I have learned about conflict with is my sister. We have lived together for most of our lives and have fought on and off for the past 21 years. Of course, anyone will tell you that the great things about siblings is, you can fight, but yet know it will be OK because in the end, they're still your brother/sister and they will still love you. The conflict will not end the relationship. Yet, that doesn't necessarily make the conflict any easier to deal with.

Over the past year, I have learned a lot about my sister and who she is as a person. We talk often and as we've both matured, learned to explain ourselves and how our brains work. Even though we look very similar on the outside (random strangers have come up to us and asked if we were twins), we're very different people on the inside.

And I love that we're different.

Where I am weak, my sister is often strong in. We joke about how vocal she is and how everyone appreciates her honesty in situations. Kate will say, "Maybe I'm too vocal," and I go, "But I love that about you! You're the voice in my head I don't let out. You stand up for me when I don't." And she has admitted that I sometimes calm her down and have helped her to watch what she says.

And of course, with two very different people living together, there will definitely be conflict.

There have been many times where we don't handle it well. One or the other or both will be severely hurt and upset. Sometimes we just don't understand the other and don't see eye to eye. And as we have continued to fight and argue, we have also gotten a lot better about it. We've learned to try to meet in the middle and compromise and talk out our problems. And even at times we will be upset with each other, we do our best in the midst of it to still respect the other person.

The biggest realization on how much we have improved came a few weeks ago. We were talking late one night and I had been feeling some resentment towards her. I voiced to her my feelings and I could tell that I must have triggered something. She looked upset and we sat there, in silence for a moment. She announced she was going to run an errand and then go to bed. I let her go. I have also learned with my sister that when she's upset, it's best to just let her go and feel what she's feeling and talk to her later. And of course, I'm the opposite. When I'm upset, I want the person to follow me and ask me what's wrong. Kate has learned to do this as well and often comes after me.

The next day, I thought about my sister and all the things she must have been going through. The comment I had made had been one I had said multiple times before and Kate has voiced before how it can sometimes make her feel and come across. I did my best in the moment to put myself in her shoes. So I called her up and we chatted for a bit as if nothing had happened and then I said, "Look, I just wanted to check up on you. I know I upset you last night and I wanted to apologize for that." I was preparing for a long drawn out conversation and tense moments. But what happened utterly surprised me. Kate simply responded, "It's OK. I can see where you were coming from. Honestly, it's just been a rough week and it just was another thing added on top of that. I'm sorry I made you feel that way though." I then voiced how I could see that and said I understood that she must be feeling torn and overwhelmed. We talked a bit more, apologized, forgave each other, and it was done.

The conversation lasted 5 minutes.

The next 15 minutes was full of random plans and funny moments about the day.

I came home from work and hugged her, feeling relieved and happy that we could make it through a conflict so easily. I voiced at how great I thought we did about getting through that conflict and she just kind of shrugged. "Well, that's what you do, isn't it? You just listen to the other person and try to understand them. It's all about just understanding the person and voicing that."

And with that, I can see that the key thing with conflict is, really listening to the other person and stepping into their shoes. The hardest part about conflict is putting down your pride and really trying to see things from the other person's point of view. You actually may be wrong. And while that is scary, it's one of the best ways to grow. Kate challenges me and I love that about her. Of course, she's also laid the ground work of that she loves me and will really listen to me and makes me feel safe with her, but she also loves me in the way that she will sometimes calls me out and say, "I don't think I agree with that. I love you enough to point that out because I want the best for you."

That's the other thing about conflict: it's sometimes the best way to love each other. To call each other out and say, "You're wrong in this and I want the best for you, so I'm going to help you grow." You don't go about it in a self-righteous kind of way and declare that you know best. You don't tell the person they are horrible and make them feel stupid for their view point. You open up a discussion and love the person in the midst of it, listening to them, but gently pointing out that there are other perspectives. It doesn't mean anything is wrong with them or that they're horrible: but you see the potential in them and their worth to say, "I know you can do better than this and live a great life. Here's what I think."

And the thing is, they can do that for you too. It's a two way street, where one learns from the other. I love this definition of friendship:

"Friendship requires a humble confession that I can learn just as much from the other as he/she can learn from me."-Ruth Lin 

I'm not a professional at conflict at all and am still making a lot mistakes. But I'm learning and my friends and loved ones help me each day in that. We help each other grow. We make mistakes, we fight, we talk, and we work things out. We love each other and are passionate. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I Was Lucky, But Most Women Aren't

(Warning: This is kind of a more intense post that involves references to physical and sexual trauma. Just be advised)

I had walked out of the gym into the evening air, feeling pretty good after a decent workout. I saw my car, only about a 100 feet away and headed over to it. It was dark and some people were walking about, so I walked quickly to my car. I jumped into my car and set my bag down in the passenger seat, making sure I had everything before I left. Suddenly, I heard a groan. I quickly turned to look out my car window. 

And there he was. 

And suddenly, all my fears and horror stories of women being attacked flooded my mind and panic arose in my chest. 

His hand was on my window and I instinctively locked the car, staring at him, not knowing what to do. He groaned again and I could tell by his shrunken face, messy beard, and  disheveled appearance that he was probably a junkie. No coherent words came forth, but just low and slow moans from his mouth as he continued to look at me. 

Panic was rising higher and higher in me. "I have to get out. I have to get out of here now." I tried quickly turning on my car, but for some reason, the car alarm went off and I had to disable it. Thanks to my tricky alarm system, I realized I'd have to unlock the car in order to turn it on. "But if I unlock it, then he may be able to get in." And I shuddered at the thought of him being able to open the car door.

I heard a louder groan and stared at him as he pointed a finger at me and pushed it on the window. He then lifted his other hand and made a gesture. My eyes widened. I had only seen that gesture made by some males as a crude joke or in sexual references. My stomach dropped. He was asking me for a hand job. 

Frozen in fear, I just stared at him. He moaned louder and pressed his finger to the window. He then out spread his hand and pressed all five fingers to the window. Was he signaling that he'd give me $5? The sickening feeling in my stomach got worse. I shook my head and found myself yelling, "NO!! NO!!" He then just stared and as I looked at him, shaking my head; all I thought was, "Please don't have a gun. Please don't."

He continued to linger there for a few moments and I found myself, making up more plans to escape. I had a phone nearby. I began thinking about how fast I could quickly unlock my car and turn it on. Other ideas and plans began forming. And eventually, as I yelled a louder "NO!" he lifted his hand off my car window and began to slowly walk away towards the gym. I found myself quickly turning the car on and driving away back home.

And yet, I felt so gross, disgusted and scared.

It felt like I was covered in dirt and I wanted to wipe away the filth as fast as possible. I felt so weak and helpless. I wanted someone to protect me, to have jumped in and use their power to push the junkie away. I felt stupid in thinking I could walk in a parking lot at dark. When I had seen some shadowy figures, why had I assumed they were just other people walking to their cars? Why didn't I just walk back into the gym and wait? And a sickness hit my stomach. He had wanted a hand job. That was one of the first things he thought when he saw me. He didn't think about my life or who I was as a person. He just wanted the physical pleasure I could offer him.

I came home and told my sister, who quickly turned angry and said, "WHAT HAPPENED!?!" As I explained the story to her and got more upset, she quickly calmed down and said, "You're OK now though. Next time, call me." And at last, tears came to my eyes and I said, "I just wanted to have a good day. Why has this day been so crappy? Why me?" And my sister hugged me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been over a week since the incident and I've been able to process it and calm down. Of course, the lingering fear that someone may come up behind me still remains. I was already pretty cautious as a woman in those incidents, but now, there's an impending fear that won't leave me. And as I replay the incident in my head, I think about how lucky I was that nothing actually did happen. Yet, I feel worse when I think, "And what about all those women who do have something like that happen? They have experienced so much worse. I felt sick enough with that brief moment. But what about the women who aren't as lucky as me? What about the traumas and scars they experience?" 

And the horrifying thing is: incidents like these and much worse, happen often, on a daily basis. Some woman is stripped of her worth and told all she is good for is physical pleasure. It's terrifying.

And yet, they also begin to believe that it is somehow, all their fault.

I saw this temptation within myself. Especially as a few others found out about the incident and one of the comments was "Oh my gosh Hannah! You got to be smart! Come on." An anger burned up inside of me as I snapped back, "I'm not stupid! Walking in a parking lot isn't a stupid thing to do!" We angrily bantered back in forth, as the person's concern for me was evident, and yet, my already present frustration and guilt screamed their presence. My sister was the one who pipped up, "I'm pretty sure Hannah feels bad enough about this. She was the one who experienced it after all." 

My father found out and insisted that I next time ask one of the guys from the gym to walk me out to my car. "Hannah, they're all doing some kind of martial arts or kick boxing. Trust me. The guys will be more than happy to do it. They'd love the chance to fight off some guy for real and protect you."

That brought me to the next realization: we have become lax in taking care of one another. Instead of walking the other person to their car, we sit on our couch and say 'bye'. Instead of walking up to a front door and knocking, we stay in the car and honk till the person comes outside. We don't offer to pick each other up, but instead say "See you there." When someone says, "I'm walking home," we just wave as it was nothing, not asking for a text or phone call when the person gets home. 

So men, walk your female friends to their cars, especially at night. Women, watch out for one another, and stay in groups if you can. Males, also watch out for one another, because you can also get jumped or mugged just as easily.

And women, it's OK to ask for help. In a world and culture where we're often told to be "independent and strong", we must fight against the lies and step up and ask for help, especially from our male counterparts. We can be strong and independent, but the world is much bigger and stronger than our individual selves. That is why we must ban together to fight against the world, otherwise, surely, we will fall.

And men, you must ask for help as well. For the most part, women probably won't be able to offer up physical protection (it's just how it is). But, we will help you in other valuable ways: emotional and mental support, providing you with care and encouragement, and showing you love and value, no matter what you do.

Again, we all have to be in this together. 

Anxiety Attacks, But There's Hope

There's a pain in my chest. My hand goes to my heart, trying to calm the storm that's about to begin. "No no. Not now. Please."A burning sensation rises in my throat. The world begins to narrow as my mind demands attention and shouts in fear. My breath quickens. "Please go away," I mentally beg. The terrifying claw around my heart begins to squeeze, and the pain in my chest intensifies. Tears begin to well up in my eyes. "No no. I don't want this." I'm scared. The sense of doom on my shoulders gets heavier and heavier. My mind races. Now I have to get out. I have to find a safe place. Thoughts are flying through my mind at 1000 mph, and I can't even focus on what I'm thinking. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. But bam. I'm hit at full force by the thoughts and emotions that plague me. I open my eyes again, and just stand still. It's too scary to go back in: to face whatever it is that's haunting me. To... face myself. Heart pounding, short burning breaths, intense chest pain and on the verge of tears, I freeze, hoping it, whatever is, will just go away.

"Hannah?"

It's my sister.

"Anxiety again?"

I nod.

"We'll be home soon. Almost done grocery shopping. Want to talk about it?"

I look down at the cart. "Maybe in a bit. I'm not even sure what's wrong."

"That's OK. You don't have to know. You can just talk."

And I'm grateful for someone who will just listen without judgement and validate my emotions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxiety. It differs between people with various symptoms, frequency, and severity. Mine hit me full force when I was 21 and I would continue to battle it daily for the next 2 years. I saw various doctors and tried finding a therapist for a while. Some understood automatically and others dismissed it as a "momentary distress". For a long while, I just ignored it. It never really affected my life directly and I could still do activities; but after one really hard week with bouts of anxiety and depression, I found myself curled up on my bed again in a panic attack, and I came to realize that while I was still living, my quality of life was severely diminishing.

For me, I always imagined myself as this dog tied to a post with a really short chain. It seemed like no matter what I did, something around my chest and neck would squeeze and hurt, and I'd be reeled backwards in pain and fear towards the one spot. Stuck in anxiety, it felt like I couldn't freely live anymore and run towards the dreams I once wanted to. I'd then lie down next to my post, whimpering, trying to figure out how to be free once again.

Now, it's been almost 2 and a half years since my battle with it all began and I can say that now, it's not as prominent of a struggle. I still do battle with anxiety and probably will for the rest of my life. But at least now, I can experience moments full of peace and I cherish each and every one of them. Moments where there isn't a raging storm roaring inside of my body and mind. The first peaceful moment I had experienced was when I was walking home after having cried to a friend. In the walk, I stopped and searched within myself: there was no anxiety, but peace. I closed my eyes and soaked in the moment. The freedom felt amazing. There was nothing gripping at my heart and breathing felt easy. I searched harder and thought, "Is my anxiety really gone?" But soon, the anxiety popped its little head out and waved, letting me know its presence was still there. The moment only lasted for about 10 minutes, but it will always remain in my mind as one of the most peaceful moments of my life. As the years went by, I found other moments of peace popping up: sometimes doing laundry, taking a shower, or eating my food, I'd stop and smile and think, "No anxiety! Yay!"

And while I reflect and rejoice in the progress I have made, I know I am also grateful for my anxiety for many other reasons; many which I have already blogged about on here. And yet, I have been continually reminded of how when God breaks us, His light shines through that much greater. Through my anxiety, I have been humbled. Through my anxiety, I have learned to be more empathetic and understanding. Through my anxiety, I have grown more patient. Through my anxiety, I stopped just looking at a person on the outside, but stepping closer, and working to peak into their souls and understand them that much better. I learned to dig deeper and listen. I have learned to reach out to others and ask for help. And yet, I still have such a long ways to go.

Again, I feel like God is reminding me on how much He shall break us, but in that process, make us shine that much more. I first wrote about it here, where I saw how broken things can turn into something beautiful. And then, I was reminded of another moment, where I heard about God breaking things apart, but using them for his purposes. I wrote about it here, but this was the moment I was reminded of:

"I was on the verge of tears and ready to spill my guts. However, a few minutes later though, her mother came back and began randomly speaking to her daughter about a sermon she heard a few days ago. It was about the woman who broke the jar at Jesus's feet and washed them with the perfume from the jar. The mother then stated, "He said that the jar was broken so that the perfume could leave the jar and be shared with everyone. He then also said that sometimes, God needs to break things in order to use them, so that he can shine through the broken pieces and put them back together even better than before." I was just standing there, almost in tears, wondering, "Is this woman speaking to me? Or is that egotistical of me to think?" I was standing there, feeling as if I was breaking, and I felt like God was saying, "You're supposed to be like this. It'll be OK. Just wait.""

I write now to remind myself and others that there is hope. Things become broken to be used later for a purpose one can not see right now. I will be the first to admit, that in the midsts of all the anxiety and panic attacks, I yelled numerous times with tears in my eyes, "God!! Why me?!?! Please take it away. I'll do anything. Why me??" And yet, as the struggles went on and God helped me to battle through, I can look back and go, "Oh. That's why." I am nowhere near perfect, but I can say that I am moving forward. God has used my brokenness and weakness to shine His light and love people all that much better. And I'm sure He's doing that for you as well.

Choices

"Why can't someone just tell me what to do? Why isn't the right choice so obvious?" is the thought that seems to go through my mind often, especially as I have gotten older. 

As a child, most of the decisions were made for you. You were often told where to go to school, what to wear, what you should eat, and what activities you should do. If you were left to making a decision, it was often of simple matters: What TV show should you watch? What game should I play during recess? Go on the swings, or play on the playground? Should I get chocolate milk or white milk? 

Simple things. Things that, if you chose something, you could easily change it for the next day. Nothing seemed quite so permanent or intimidating. 

My first big decision on my own came when I was about 14 and had to decide what high school to go to. I remember it being a little stressful of a time. I would sit on my floor and pray that God would tell me where to go. I'd flip coins over and over again, saying, "This school on heads, or this school on tails." Eventually, I'd have to do the best 4 out of 7, then the best 5 out of 8, and so on. I talked to my parents and teachers all about it and hear their input and I looked to my friends for where they were going and why. But despite me looking to my elders, friends, a game of chance, destiny, and God, the decision was still left to me. 

Looking back, the decision didn't seem that hard at all. I remember some very key things that happened that led me to my decision. I remember the moment where I decided that I wanted to choose a school that would give me room to breathe and explore other things in life. I was tired of the strictness of private school, the suffocating religious practices, the strain of money it put on my family, and the overwhelming workload. I didn't want to spend some very key years of my life only focusing only on homework and my GPA. I wanted time with my family and family, the ability to explore new hobbies, and adventures. 

Again, in retrospect, that decision didn't seem that hard. I could also be comforted that if ultimately, I didn't like my school choice, I could switch schools. Knowing you can change your mind and your surroundings is a comforting thought.  

But now, the decisions seem a bit more daunting. They involve more time, more dedication, and have more permanence than other areas of my life. To go to grad school or not? If so, where? For what? And it's easy to realize that these next few years could determine what I may or may not do for the rest of my life. Do I really want to do that for the rest of my life? How will that help my future? Do I even want to do this? 

Then other questions arise, creating various images in my head of what my future could look like: Should I marry this person? Should I move to another city? State? To another country? When should I have kids? Do I want kids? Adopt? Give birth? Where should I invest my money? How much money should I save? What should I buy with my money? How much should I tithe? Do I stay at this job? Or do I look for another job? Should I switch careers and pursue something else? Or stick with this one? Should I buy a car? Old? New? What color should it be? What type of car should I buy? What country should I visit? Where do I stay? For how long? 

And the decisions go on and on! 

With each decision comes a new possibility of the future that lies before me. I'm worried of making a wrong choice, scared that the choice will lead me down a road I didn't want to go and that I'll end up regretting my decision.

Making choices on your own is scary. Terrifying. The responsibility and weight of your own life is on your shoulders and no one wants to mess up. 

Yet, I suppose the one thing that is reassuring is that just because I make one choice, and even if it's the worst of them all, things can still change. I'm never stuck. Life is constantly moving and changing. The only thing you're really guaranteed in life is change. And with that, you must learn to give yourself grace and self-acceptance so you can move forward. 

Marriage choices is something that really intimidates me: I don't want to be a couple that gets divorced, so when I get married, I'm planning on it being for life. One of those decisions you can't back out on. As I've seek council and advice in the area of relationships for many years, one piece of advice stands out in my mind that I received from an elder co-worker on the day he was retiring and we were saying good-bye to him. I sat with him at the table in our break room and did just some small chit chat. I think he had been reflecting on his life, because suddenly, he began telling me his story of how he came to Arizona and all the events that unfolded in how he got there. He admitted that his marriage was on the rocks after 25 years and they were on the brink of divorce. He then said to me, "And at that time, I had a good Christian friend who gave me some good advice. I'd go to him over and over again saying how my wife did this or did that and how she'll never change. I was so frustrated with her. And you know what? That man looked me in the eye and said, 'She's not the one that needs to change. It's you. If you change, then she will.' And sure enough, when I began changing, she did too. And our marriage healed and blossomed once again." 

While I took that to heart to remember for my own marriage one day, I think it can apply to all other areas of my life as well. Even if I somehow end up in a situation I don't like, know that even in that moment, I still have a choice: a choice to make the best out of it and change my out look. I have the choice and the ability to change myself, and with the help and grace of God, hopefully, I'll succeed. And maybe that's one of the most important choices to keep in mind: choosing to change yourself in the moment. All else will follow. 

Adventures & Ordinary Days

I'm a dreamer. I have lots of things that I think and dream about that excite and thrill me. And at the same time, I see that I have done some of those more adventures things. I have hiked tall mountains, basking in great landscapes that lay before me. I have scuba dived down into the depths of the oceans, swimming with sea turtles and sting rays. I have grabbed a hammer and nails, and helped build a house on the plains of the Navajo reservation. I have explored and live on the streets on inner-city Chicago, confronting gangs and seeing the effects of racism. I have been on Championship winning softball teams, catching pop flies and running around bases. I have planned high school pranks, sneaking onto school grounds and into classrooms. I have done a lot of pretty cool and crazy things, and yet, I crave more.

I want to run through the fields in Ireland; walk down the streets of Korea; sit down and eat sushi in Japan; hike through Thailand and India; ride a jeep through the plains of Africa; visit Big Ben in London; dance in the streets of Brazil; and see the Northern Lights up in Alaska. And so much more!

And yet, while I have many dreams and adventurous goals, I've come to realize one very key thing:

While all those adventures are fun and good on their own, they wouldn't be nearly as wonderful without people to experience those moments with. It's my loved ones and friends that make those journeys and key times all that much more worth it.

And you know what? I have some very awesome and amazing friends, and lately, as each week goes on, I feel more blessed and supported by them. It's with these friends that have helped me through some darker and more crazier events than what I have listed above.

They have held my hand as I experienced a panic attack; they have hugged me as my heart broke and I cried; they have forced me to eat when my stomach said 'no'; they have prayed for me as I felt weak; they have talked to me, listening and giving advice, when I was lost and needed encouragement; they texted me daily, checking up on me, to see how I was doing when chaos ensued in my life; they made me laugh and smile when I felt like crap; they affirmed me when I was in deep shame; and they are the ones that have picked me back up and inspired me to keep fighting when life has thrown me down. 

These.... these are the people that make all my adventurous dreams seem... dull. Dull without them. And they make all my accomplishments that much brighter. Brighter because I have someone else to share in the joy with. 

You see, all the tall mountains I hiked was usually with a dear friend where we had great conversations. I scuba dived with friends who shared towels with me as we got back on the boat and were freezing from the cold water. I held a hammer along with 50 other people, making new friends that would open my world. The city of Chicago wasn't as scary with my teammates by my side. Softball wouldn't have been as fun if I didn't have friends to laugh and joke around with. And a high school prank definitely wouldn't have been as fun without my partners in crime to make it all possible and reminisce about the adventure for years to come.

Again, I can't seem to fully explain how much my family and friends have enriched my life. The older I get, the more and more I seem to realize how much they enhance my life and give it meaning. And while I still want to achieve my "dreams" and go on adventures, I also recognize that maybe those adventures aren't all they crack up to be. At least, not without people by my side.

With that said, I have begun to value my "ordinary days". Those days that are filled with my 8-5 job, where I work to love my co-workers, doing silly things with them, baking food on their birthdays, and trying to go deeper in our daily conversations. Those ordinary days that are filled with coffee shop visits in the afternoon, pouring our souls out over a cup of tea, encouraging one another to keep going. Those times where conversations on the couch go on for hours between friends, as we giggle over silly events and laugh over youtube videos. Those nights where my sister and I curl up on her bed with a bowl of ice cream and watch a movie to take a break from the crazy world. Those days where a simple text message, saying "I love you" makes everything seem that much brighter. These are the days that I will value and cherish. These are the moments I have begun living for. I still want adventures and will continue to pursue my dreams. And I encourage all people to do so. But, for me, these "ordinary days" are the things that truly make life extraordinary.

So I thought about running away to Mexico...

"Maybe... I could move to Mexico..." I pondered it, trying to imagine what my life would look like if I actually made the change and decided to live in the neighboring country below my current one. I imagined myself finding some random place to live, be a small room somewhere in an inn, or a floor with a family that took me in. I would then find a job, doing some kind of hard labor or being a waitress at some restaurant. My Spanish would improve, and I could see it be a humbling experience as I learned the difficulty of doing hard labor. Yes. I'll just quit my job and move to Mexico. Excitement and hope rose in me as I realized that perhaps this is what I would do next.

Of course, mostly anyone I pitched the idea shot the idea down. I was then onto my next options.

Then maybe Alaska? I have cousins up there. I could work at one of their stores. Yeah, I don't like the cold that much, but I'm sure I'd get used to it. Or if not maybe somewhere cold, but go overseas? Japan? Korea? Perhaps London?  "An adventure is just what I need right now. I need to get out. Experience life!" is what I kept telling myself. 

But then a small voice peeked out and said, "And why is it that you want that so badly? I think you just want to run away." And with that, my day dreams came crashing down as the reality of the situation hit me. A part of my adventurous self did really want to go to all those places and do exciting things. But really, my main motivation came from fear. 

And you're all probably wondering what it is that I'm so scared of that I would actually think that moving to Mexico or another country would be better than facing my fear. Like, seriously? You'd rather face drug cartels, being lost in a foreign place, and not knowing anyone than whatever it is you're facing now?

Yes. Yes I would. The world, I can take on. But.... this one thing is what terrifies me:

People. Relationships. Being real and vulnerable. Being dependent on them. Being let down. Being rejected. 

I'd rather go try and bring down an oppressive government system or a horrible ruling dictator than leave myself open to rejection by my loved ones. Moving away and going on adventures seemed like the perfect solution that would keep me independent, free, and..... safe. 

And yet, I hate the idea of running away... from anything. So now, I've been going through the process of actually trying to face my worst fears: me actually letting people in and giving them the opportunity and power to hurt me. It terrifies me, but at the same time, I don't want to run away. 

So here's to a different kind of adventure: one where I will be fighting internal foes and going through mental war zones. I'll be climbing mountains and wading through foreign places in my heart. It's not the adventure that I have always pictured me going on, but it's probably going to be the most worthwhile adventure of my life time.

Here goes nothing. 

Abandonment

I keep asking myself the question, "What next? What am I supposed to be doing next?"

I look up to God and go, "Where do you want me to go?"

Except, every option I can think of seems too.... outrageous. Too dangerous. Pretty darn crazy. And even... a little idiotic. Surely, I should go the safe and certain way, right?

Right?

But then again, am I following a safe God?

So I pray this prayer of abandonment:

“I abandon myself into your hands;
do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank you:
I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me,
And in all your creatures-
I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul:
I offer it to you with all the love of
my heart,
for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, 
to surrender myself into your hands 
without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for you are my Father."

Maybe I'm Not Crazy Afterall

The past few months have been full of immense discovery about myself, people, God, relationships,  human nature, and so much more. At times, I feel like perhaps I'm maybe beginning to grasp an understanding on my experiences and the different facets of my fragile heart, but alas, something else appears, and I'm left with having to start from scratch once again and back to the drawing board. But with that, has come with the understanding that this is all normal and perhaps, after all, I'm not crazy and alone.

I think the biggest thing I have learned about myself is how strongly I am effected by my emotions. At first, it was a welcomed change because for the past two years, my emotions were limited and cut off due to the high anxiety I was feeling from overwhelming events. Slowly, but surely, the cracks of the wall have broken and my emotions have broken forth once again. 

Now, being an emotional person, I tend to like this aspect of myself. When my emotions are rising and tumbling over, I can create some of the most beautiful and wondrous pieces of art. Words and images come much easier to me when fueled by feelings of love, anger and sorrow. When it comes to my friendships, I can be a very empathetic person, meeting almost any person where they are at on an emotional level and connect with them. I know how to tap into my own emotions and speak to people genuinely and from the heart. 

So all in all, I have tended to enjoy this aspect about myself. However, I have come into a time of my life of growth and healing, and the roller coaster of my emotions seem to sometimes hinder me. My emotions swing back and forth easily; a pendulum of feelings that despite my best efforts, continues on without ceasing. In all honesty, I have felt like an emotional mess. Like some kind of crazy person that just can't make up her mind and is spinning around and around until she falls over, in a fit of her own tears and hysterical laughter. Understanding seems to always escape me as the emotions are strong and I'm not sure what to quite do with them. I often feel like I just don't understand myself. 

But... there is hope.

In the midst of all of this, I have some beautiful and wonderful friends that have blessed me. At the peaks of some of these emotional struggles, a friend has come along and talked with me, soothing my raging inner turmoil and all the while, voicing their own love for me. And then, some very key words are spoken that seem to ease the emotional turbulence entirely, and I'm at peace once again: 

"You know, I have gone through that too." 

And suddenly, the walls of shame and isolation are broken and I'm left with a sense of sanity and belonging. My heart opens up and I'm ready to hear advise and counseling on how to move forward from whatever it is that is plaguing me. I'm not alone anymore. I'm not crazy. I'm just human. 

So while I'm a mess, with emotions that seem to swing back and forth, I've been very blessed with many friends who can relate to me and have talked to me through my struggles. People who have nodded and listened, and connected to me where I'm at and struggling. They have stepped off the pedestal that I have placed them in, knelt down next to me and said, "Oh, I've been there.  I am no better than you. I know it's hard where you're at. You're doing what you can. How can I help you?" It's been a blessed gift, really. I remember my friend Kara and I often call each other, "sanity buddies". The people you go to when you think you're going crazy, but talk to them, and suddenly you realize, "Oh hey, this is normal. I'm not alone. Ok. Cool."

So thank you to all my friends who have sat with me and listened to me in the past few months as I've struggled and worked through many things. Thank you for meeting me where I'm at and relating to me. Seriously, it's one of the best gifts you could have given to me. :) 

The two most powerful words when we struggle: "Me too". 

- Brene Brown

Need any cool books to read? Check out "Daring Greatly" and/or "I Thought It Was Just Me"by Brene Brown. I've enjoyed them. 

Beauty Seen

As some of you know, I've been gobbling up Patrick Rothfuss's novels like a starving abandoned child that rapidly consumes food on sight. Not only is the story interesting and I like the main character, but the writing is enjoyable and rhythmic. It's an adventure story that involves wit, music, magic, and poetry; and like any excellent story, it hints at great truths of life that makes you stop and ponder how it pertains to your own life. Anyways, I came across this piece, and I had to read it a few times as I sat and absorbed it's meaning and what it meant for myself:

"You see, there's a fundamental connection between seeming and being. Every Fae child knows this, but you mortals never seem to see. We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be." 

C relaxed a bit, sensing a familiar ground. "That's basic psychology. You dress a beggar in fine clothes, people treat him like a noble, and he lives up to their expectations." 

"That's only the smallest piece of it," B said. "The truth is deeper than that. It's..." B floundered for a moment. "It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story." 

Frowning, C opened his mouth, but B held up a hand to stop him. "No, listen. I've got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll think you're sweet, but she won't believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding." B gave a grudging shrug. "And sometimes that's enough." 

His eyes brightened. "But here's a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you..." B gestured excitedly. "Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn't seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen."   

Name of the Wind, p. 716

(I left out the names just in case any of you choose to read it and I don't want to give away the characters and such.) 

As I thought on this, I remembered a few friends that I feel particularly beautiful around. Often, when I'm with them, if I've worn something cute or done something with my hair, their smile is even bigger and they exclaim, "Hannah! You are so beautiful!" At first, I used to shyly respond, "Uh... thank you", not sure how to take the compliment and wondering if it was even true. But lately, I felt the difference in myself. My smile just grows bigger, saying, "Aw.. thank you! I know! And so are you!" There's no hint of pride or ego. Just a calm confidence that knows it to be true.

Growing up, I never cared to put any effort into my looks. There were more important things to do in my eyes: read books, play a sport, get better at math, be nicer to people, gain another skill, and the list goes on. Wearing make-up and putting on cute clothes seemed more like a nuisance than anything.

But as a girl grows older, even the most tomboyish girl begins to desire to be "beautiful". I can't speak for everyone, but I saw it happen within myself. I saw an excitement in the times I got to dress up. I wouldn't want to do it every day. Yet, when those certain occasions arrived, that required a dress and done up hair, it was exciting.

"I get to be beautiful" is the thrilling thought.

So, I've been blessed to have friends who really encouraged me to show my beauty, it small and big ways. They volunteered to go shopping with me, pointing at different things I could wear. They let me borrow clothes, did my hair, lent me make-up, and always encouraged me to not hide away, but shine. Their response wasn't, "Oh, you're dressed nicely. That's weird," or a "Hm.... you did your hair. OK," as some people do respond, making you feel awkward and like you never want to do it again. But they were usually so excited and encouraging. I found that when I was going to hang out with them, I aimed to put a bit more effort in to look nice, and walked out, truly believing I was beautiful.

And I can even see that in my photography as I've grown in the field; the goal isn't to work with beautiful people, but to show everyone how beautiful they truly are. :) To make them tell a different story in their head and have them think, "Wow! I really am beautiful!"

And perhaps we should do that, not just in beauty with women, but in all things with all people. Encourage them and show them their abilities, their beauty, their worth. And then, maybe then, they will start telling different stories in their own head, realizing what they truly are: a beautiful and valuable person.

So Simple, But So Precious

As I have gotten older, I've come to cherish something so simple. And of course, I didn't really cherish it until it went missing from my life. Day after day, I grew to miss it, without even realizing what it was.  An ache in my heart grew and tears would well in my eyes as I yearned for the sweetness of its sound and the meaning it brought to my life. I dream of the days of when I will have it again and dread the times where I know it will have to be absent. It's something so simple, and yet, it warms up my heart and renews its strength from a weary day.

You see, when this simple thing is present, it does wonders to the soul: it wraps you up in a tender embrace; it lifts the corners of your mouth into a smile; your steps are a bit lighter as they spring with hope; you don't even realize that you tilt your ears to hear its sweet sound; your heart is lifted; your eyes a bit brighter with joy; and even though there are many times where you take it for granted, the second it goes missing, you turn around, staring at the gaping hole its presence has left. So when it comes back, you hold onto it and look forward to it even more. You then run towards it, excitement rising in your body for the opportunities and moments it will bring. Yes, the precious, simple part of life is back to offer its love and joy into your life; to make your days a bit brighter, to give strength to your weariness, to ease the loneliness in your heart, and to simple say this:

"Welcome home"

So simple. But so precious.

Why Dating Relationships Scare Me

Suddenly, my future seems a lot scarier.

Honestly, a few months before, I remember thinking "Ah... yes. There's no concrete road for my future, but I'm OK with that. Life will take me where ever I want and it will be a fun adventure!" The possibilities seemed endless and I was ready to hone my skills as an artist and designer, save up money for traveling, and get in shape for new adventures. I was pretty content, struggling with some things, but feeling good about my future at least. I began envisioning myself as the carefree photographer and hiker that was going to finally visit all the places she wanted to go, eat the food she had always wanted to eat, meet new people, read books, discuss religion, culture, and philosophy with others, listen to old men in the park playing chess talk about their lives, hike to the tops of mountains and bask in the great views, eventually get a dog and take it with me where ever I went, and just hang out with whoever I felt like it in the moment. I didn't have a plan on how to make it all happen, but I was excited for all the adventures.

Then he showed up.

And by "he", I mean, my boyfriend.

Suddenly, all my adventures and visions of a carefree single life slipped away and I was left with throwing someone else's plans into the mix of life. And with this, a wave of issues, scars, insecurities, and fears appeared that I had never realized were there before. Fears of rejection, trust issues, past heart aches rose to the surface like a tidal wave and I was sitting there, going "What the heck is going on?"

While I probably could write a novel about the whole process thus far, including my fears, multiple discussions with people, many conversations with my boyfriend, epiphanies on my end, prayers lifted up to God, lots of thinking, too much analyzing, and just... SO MUCH, I'll summarize it in this quick conversation that I had with my mother about the whole thing. After I vented all my woes and worries, exasperating the topic to no end, and simply saying at last, "Oh Mom, I don't know. I just don't know." She simply said:

"It sounds like to me that you want a guarantee that it's all going to work out. And sorry to say honey, but life doesn't work out like that."

And with that, I shut my mouth, sighed and said, "Yeah..... dang it."

And I even had to admit that while my single, independent life sounded fantastic, that doesn't mean it would all work out either. I have no guarantees in life in general, whether I'm single, dating, married, working, in school, in another country, etc. All I have is God and his promises.

Am I still terrified? Ha. You bet I am. But as some of my close friends have put it, they have said, "Well, I would rather love and be hurt than to not experience those emotions at all. Yeah, it's a risk, but it's a risk worth taking." My desire for adventures and see great things stills exist, but I'm experiencing a new adventure in a relationship. It's a different kind of thrill than hiking to the top of a mountain and seeing an incredible view; it's one where your heart races when you hold hands for the first time or a smile escapes you after they try to cheer you up after a rough week. And when someone comments on my goofy happy smile when I talk about him, or I don't want his hugs to ever end, you get to a point of "Well, I guess I'm already pretty far deep into this adventure. Might as well see where it takes me."

My future seems a lot scarier, but each day, I take a step towards it, knowing the risk may be high, but I don't want to lose out on this adventure.

Trust Yourself

"Can I really do this?"

That's the one thought that keeps running through my mind, and it has been for the past year.

Can I really be a graphic designer?
Can I really be a photographer?
Can I support myself financially?
Can I stay friends with this person?
Can I live with this person?
Can I really be in a relationship with this person?
Can I really stay committed and true to my faith?

Can I really do any of this?

And for each question, my automatic response was "No". There's no way. I'm human and have limits. I have so many weak moments that I'm amazed I can get up and go through the day like I do. My talents and skills are limited and can only take me so far. Remember all those better designers and photographers? They can do it much better than me. Remember all those people who you have lived with and quarreled with? Remember all those failed relationships? Who's to say these will be any better? I'm definitely not good enough. And even if I am, then...  who..... who am I? Who am I to even take that position? Or be in that relationship? or be in the spot light? Who am I?

That right there is called: shame.

Part of me would tell myself "this is what it means to be humble": to not think you are greater than you really are; to not come across as cocky; to not think you are right all the time; and to not think that you actually have earned any sort of privilege at all.

But as I was mulling things over the other day, I realized that this isn't me being humble at all; humility is about not thinking of oneself. What humility is NOT is: beating oneself down into a pit that can't be crawled out of; to put yourself down all the time; and to hide in fear. By saying to myself "Who am I?", I instantly hindered myself from doing anything at all. I place myself in a land of fear and doubt, and scrape away any worth that I do have.

As I was mulling this over; I kept digging the pit digger and digger. "Can I really do this? No I can't. So many other people have failed. And what about me? Oh, I have so many weak moments. What if I do this? Or... I've definitely done this before. Surely, I can't really do this." The anxiety rose, dread began to engulf me, and I sat down at the bottom of my dark and dirty pit only staring at the ground, seeing no way out.

And that's when a little light broke through and I heard myself say, "Yeah, but what about you and your art? What about all the things you have done right? All the things you have pushed through? What about those moments? Those aren't from a weak willed spirit. Those are from the determined, strong, and loyal person that you are." And suddenly, I looked up from the bottom of the pit and began climbing out.

Memories began to flood my mind and I grasped onto them, like one who grabs the single line of golden rope he/she has to climb to get out of a hole.

Memories of struggling through art and photography, but still pushing myself to get better at it and not give up. Memories of endless drills, running, coaches yelling, and extra practices when I did sports. Sweating till I was drenched and breathless to the point of hyperventilating  but never wanting to give up. Memories of pulling all nighters at school, with constant revising over and over again, just to get the project nearly perfect. Times where I got down on my knees, with tears in my eyes, begging for forgiveness where I knew I had done wrong. And times where I stood up as everyone kept sitting down, and said, "I will not back down."

And then...

A memory of my mother looking at me when I was 16 and saying, "Hannah, you are quite capable. You're very smart and can probably take anyone down; just be careful on how you use that power; always aim to be the better person. You can do it." and I stood there dumbstruck, thinking, "Does.... she believe in me?" And from that moment on, I always went to my mom for advice and knew she loved me. I knew she would see me when I couldn't see myself.

And perhaps that's where I need to start directing my thoughts. I need to start believing in myself; believing that I am capable of things and have the ability to become the person who I want to be. Focused on the things I want to stand for and not how I may fail at them. I don't do anyone good by constantly doubting myself. Yes, I will have weak moments and still doubt, but now, I will try and not to focus on that (easier said than done) and try to believe and trust in myself. Believe and trust the person that God is creating me to be. Because really, it's not about me. It's about all the things I want to do and the principals I want to stand for. It's about what God can do through me, and if I live in fear and put myself down, then I'm putting down His abilities and work in me.

The question then changes from "Can I really do this?" to a "It doesn't matter. This is what I want to do." Here goes nothing.

Memories

The lights of the city and cars dance before my eyes. Soothing music comes out of the car speakers, matching the wearied travelers' mood as they yearn for rest and peace after a long day. And then I turn to my companion, who has fallen asleep, eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar as I drive along: he's my younger brother and I smile.

I realize I have to take in these moments and hold them dear. As I get older, I realize car adventures with my brother become fewer and fewer. He and I have begun to lead our own lives and drive our own cars; where before, I had to drive him everywhere and we were often buddies on the road, talking about our lives, singing to songs, and discussing ideas. But now, I live in another city, and he has begun driving himself, and moments like this, are few and far between. So I hold these moments dear.

The moments where I get to see him so relaxed and unguarded. Many see him on the wrestling mat, pinning down another man in a fierce and merciless fashion. Or they see him standing strong, stoic and silent, as he walks along to his destination. Yet, it's in the car that I have often heard him open up about his thoughts and life, and then see him unguarded, like now, falling asleep. These moments I hold in my heart, looking at them and breathing in their essence, knowing change is on the horizon and that, as we get older, other people will enter into our lives and take up our time and energy.

So I hold these moments dear, tucking them away in my heart to remember later on as we go through life and change.

Running, Life, & Love

Here's something I wrote back in November. I really need to start finishing things I write. It's for all you runners, or just... anyone in general. Enjoy:

My breathing seems to create a rhythm with my foot steps. Step. Step. Huff. Step. Step. Huff. Sweat begins to trickle down the back of my neck as my body finally warms up in the cool air. It's quiet, except for the music in my ears coming out of my headphones. It keeps me distracted from the slow oncoming cramp in my side and the muscles in my feet complaining. The first mile always seems the hardest.

"Mom, how do you know when you're in love?"

She pauses.

The memory hits me as I bounce up and down by the light, waiting to run across. My head often goes off in various directions when I run. Heck. When I do anything. I tell myself to keep moving and not to lose momentum. Other runners come up behind me, also waiting for the light to turn. The walk sign appears. The light's green. I run.

"You... well. They're all you can think about. And you want to spend all your time with them," she says to my 16-year old self. "But... more importantly. You feel really good about who you are. And..." she kind of smiles, "They make you want to be a better person." She looks up at me, "I think that's mainly it. You feel so good about yourself, but at the same time, want to become better."

I reach the half way point: 1.5 miles. I turn around and begin running the last 1.5 miles I have to go.

Past relationships come up in my head and the words "Hannah I love you" in various voices echoes. Before, thinking about past relationships used to make my heart ache. A tear or two would escape as I thought about loves now lost and moments I couldn't get back. But now, I acknowledge their existence with acceptance: acceptance that they had to happen and yet, acceptance that they are now over with it. Acceptance that they were painful, but necessary. Like the cramp in my side that has eased away now, making it easier to keep running. Like my muscles that once screamed with pain, have now grown stronger and with new abilities to help me run.

Some men run by me and I inwardly wish I could run faster. I immediately pick up my speed, but quickly slow down, realizing I can not keep up that pace. They are training for something else, are a different person, with a different physique. Heck, they may have been doing this for a few years now, while a noob like me knows that I can't push myself too hard too fast. Maybe one day I will get there. But maybe not.

I remember when the people around me first started getting engaged. While I knew that wasn't for me at the time, I couldn't help but want to run alongside of them. I felt like they would be leaving for an far off island that single people weren't allowed to visit. They were going so far and so fast, and here I was, keeping my steady and even pace by myself. But I also had to remember, that they were also different people, with different lives and different stories. Right now, they were running in the direction towards marriage, while I was keeping my steady pace, building my stamina and muscles for a different story. Again, maybe one day I will sprint towards marriage, but maybe not.

Those runners turn off and I turn in a different direction. I glance back, looking at all those runners. I often want to know where they all are going; what trails they know about, how far do they run, and what equipment do they use. But I realize, that if I keep looking back, I'll trip and fall, or run into a tree, which I almost do. I turn my head back on my path, knowing where it is I want to go to complete my run. I have to focus on that, otherwise... I'll never finish my own run.

I see that I can't keep comparing myself to others. I can't keep looking around at who's dating, who's married, who has a job, who's moved to a far off country, who's serving God and how, who's wearing what clothes, and who's achieved what academic degree. Everyone is different and in different spots during their race and it's a completely different race than mine. If I keep glancing over at what they're doing, I'll just trip and fall.

Finally, I make it to the end. To my home. My steps come to a slow stop, and I look up, breathing hard. A smile slowly spreads across my face as the feeling of success and accomplishment pat me on the back, saying, "Job well done". It's those feelings that make you excited to go out and run again; to test and push yourself even farther. But for now, I will go inside and rest. Soon, I will go back out again, but now is the time to wait, rest, and recover. And that is also a vital part to running, and to life.

Depression & Insecurities: I will fight

Do you ever have those mornings where you wake up, and instantly your stomach feels sick? Your shoulders feel heavy and you're wondering how you'll motivate yourself to do anything? All you really want is to curl up into a ball and hide under  your covers and wait until the feeling subsides. Yeah, I'm definitely having one of those mornings.

For me, when I'm sad, insecurities often pop up as well, trying to drag me down even farther. It often feels like I'm trying to crawl my way out of a dark hole, but as I crawl, I feel the darkness cling to my body, trying to drag me back in. You pull and pull, gasping, reaching into the very depths of your soul for any reason to keep going. And sometimes, you just keep crawling, despite that you feel nothing what-so-ever.

I won't lie: I'm starting to get sick and tired of feeling insecure.

I sat at my desk at work, feeling sick to my stomach and wanting to drown in all the negative thoughts. I laid my head down and just prayed. Prayed for strength and for some way out of it. I began thinking of all the things that I needed to do; then all the things that I really wanted to do. I knew I didn't want to live in this depression; to feel so unmotivated to do anything. It wasn't me. I love life. I love getting the most out of anything and everything. I love hanging out with people and my friends. I began texting people to see if they wanted to hang out. That was a start. I then turned inwardly and yelled at the insecurities. I was angry. Angry that the insecurities were trying to take the joy out of my life. So I got up and yelled (mentally at myself):

I AM TOTALLY WORTH IT!

I am valuable and loved. People think about me. People love me. People want to hang out with me. And even if no one in the world wanted to hang out with me, I have a God that looks at me every single day and says, "I choose you!" He chose me yesterday, and the day before that, and He chooses me today, and He will choose me tomorrow, and plans on choosing me for the rest of my life into eternity. I have a God that will not leave me. So even if all else fails, I will not be alone. My value is not based on what anyone else thinks of me. It is not based on how often people talk to me or hang out with me. It is based on the simple fact that I exist and that I am a child of a the Holy and Beloved Father.

As I yelled (again mentally at myself), it didn't completely erase all my insecurities, but I saw that I was tired of believing lies about myself. I do not plan on living in fear. I do not plan on living drowning in a sea of depression, insecurities, doubts, and worthlessness. I am way better than that. I'm worth more than that.

The battle isn't over. In fact, the war has only begun. But I'm suiting up and grabbing the nearest sword, ready to fight and battle these thoughts. I do not plan on going down easily. I have a desire to live my life to the fullest and I won't let anyone, even myself, get in the way of that.

"The Lord gives his people strength;

the Lord grants his people security."

Psalm 29:11

Let's do this. 

Just Go With It

So here I am, once again. It seems like the past 7 or 8 months of life have just been a roller coaster of change, growth, new life stages, and most importantly, a change and growth within myself. Believe it or not, I actually have written quite a bit in the past few months about all the changes. There's probably about 50 drafts on this blog right now, from between July to now, full of written stories and ideas that I began to jot down, but... just never finished. Sometimes, I ran out of time, or got distracted, but other times, I never could finish because I could never seem to come to a full conclusion at the end. I never knew how to end the piece; to wrap it up nicely and say "I learned this because of this. The end." Each time, I was just left with an emotion and a sense of understanding that really can't be described in words. I'm a pictures and feelings type of person. To compress something in a simple, logical, step by step kind of way is not my style, especially when the lesson tends to be so personal to me. It's just not my style. I rather tell you a story and explain to you all the ups and downs that came with it.

So here I am, with many stories and emotions. I will tell you about my life and the things I learn as I go. And I hope, that there are times where you can learn something from them too and let them touch you as well. Here we go. Shall we?