Til It Happens To You

You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time
You say I'll pull myself together
Pull it together, you'll be fine
Tell me, what the hell do you know? What do you know?
Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know?

'Til It happens to you
You don't know how it feels, how it feels
'Til it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real
No, it won't be real, won't know how it feels

Growing up, words like child abuse and domestic violence weren't something I heard very often. I didn't even really know what they were until I was in middle school and by then, I was already in the midst of being abused myself. When I was sixteen, almost seventeen, the physical abuse finally stopped, but it wasn't until I was eighteen that the mental, emotional, and verbal abuse finally ended. But even now, almost ten years after the last time I spoke to my biological father, I still feel the effects of being abused. I struggle with anxiety, depression, nightmares, and a distrust of men. Most days, I'm able to function and get through my day without much incident, but there are still days when I will have panic or anxiety attacks in the middle of work and it's a literal hell. And on the rare occasion I actually run into my father (like today), it spirals me into a nightmare of panic, wanting to throw up, and shaking.

A 1997 survey stated that 1 in 5 high school girls were a victim of physical or sexual abuse. Over half of the abuse occurred at home in this same study. My abuse was always at home, behind the privacy of doors that kept the rest of the world from seeing the hell that I lived in. It wasn't always physical either. Sure, there were beatings with a belt and slaps across the face, but the worst part wasn't the physical. I almost would take the beatings to the verbal, mental, and emotional assault. Being told you're worthless or that you are a "stupid bitch" over and over again is a nightmare that sticks with you...even now, ten years later, I feel worthless sometimes and like I won't do anything good in my life. Even though all the evidence says otherwise, I still feel like trash because that was what I was made to believe and how to feel about myself.

Something I have been told many times, mostly by well meaning and loving friends, is that it gets better in time. And while I know that they mean well, I want to beat my head against a wall because they don't know. They don't know what it's like to have a parent mistreat and abuse you for years on end, then blame it on you. Sometimes I want to ask them how the hell could they know how I feel when they've never experienced what I have or walked in my shoes. It doesn't just take time to get better. It takes therapy, sheer willpower, and a hell of a lot of love, patience, understanding, and compassion to get even one ounce better. While I wouldn't wish that on anyone, I sometimes wish they could understand how I feel...understand that I don't want to be the way I am, but that I am the product of my experiences and can't always control how I react to certain situations because they're triggering for me. For over ten years, I have struggled and fought tooth and nail to get better, to work through the hell, and figure out how to make it better. But still, it's like there is this wall between me and them and I'm screaming at it, but they can't hear me.

Until it happens to them (which I hope it never does), they won't know how I feel. 

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

I'm writing this as a way of helping myself. It's been almost 10 years since I've spoken to you and a lot has changed in those 10 years. The years have taken me from the scared little girl you once abused and made me into a wise and strong woman. For years, I doubted I would find that woman, but I have reached a point in my life where I have found the confidence to say the things I have always wanted to say but never had the courage to before. And now that I have found that courage and strength, I will finally say what I need to and move on with my life for good without you.

Years ago, you once told me that I was going to wind up as a nothing. That I was worthless. For years that weighed on my self-esteem and invalidated everything I ever did as not good enough. You. Were. Wrong. Not only do I have a bachelor's degree in Psychology, but I also went onto achieve my master's degree in counseling and am working on my license to become a counselor. I have a full-time job working in my field and I pay my own bills, have a nice car, and a lot of other things I have worked very hard for. No one supports me and I don't live off of the system. And I don't blame others for my problems the way you have done for years. I have made something of myself that I am very proud of and will continue to work on as I get older, building my career and making my life everything I deserve.

For all the years you weren't there and weren't a father when you should have been, I have doubted myself most when it comes to relationships. My relationships and even my friendships are filled with anxiety and self-doubt because you made me feel like I wasn't good enough. A girl's father is supposed to be the first man in her life to teach her how men are supposed to treat her and yet, you treated me like shit and never wanted me in the first place. This is why the cycle of abuse continues because little girls like me grow up thinking men are supposed to treat them like dirt, so they find boyfriends and husbands who do the same as their fathers. You threw me against walls, slapped me across the face, screamed at me, and used a belt to beat me. No father should ever treat their child that way. And it will never happen again in my life. That stopped the moment I decided that I was worth more than trying to appease a parent who never loved me. I will NEVER let another man treat me or any of my future children the way you treated me and Mom. Ever.

You left me broken and full of doubt when I finally walked away from you and it has taken me years to reclaim the little girl who had such big dreams. Now I'm all grown up and learning to take back those dreams and make them realities. Never again will you take my confidence and crush it or make me feel worthless. I'm not the worthless one here. I'm not the one who abused his family and lives on perpetual lies.

The last thing I want to say is that, despite the apology I will never receive, I forgive you. But I don't do that for you. I do it for me to give me the peace of mind that it is over. So that I can move on with my life and forget you like a bad nightmare. You hold no more power over me and I will forget you exist one day. I hope that one day you can admit to your wrongs and make your peace with your God. Because I have made my peace, called it good, and moved on without you.

-Lacy

Living With Mental Illness

I still remember the first time I heard the word depression. I was a kid in middle school, going through the usual health education classes and in my class, we skimmed along the mental health section with the usual spiel about how if you're going to kill yourself, you should reach out to someone and that was the end of the conversation. Like most thirteen-year-olds, it was no big deal to me and I didn't pay much attention to it because it didn't apply to me...at least I didn't think it did. It wasn't until a year later that I came face-to-face with my monsters for the first time in a very ugly way. I was fourteen the first time I cut myself. I never was one to draw blood because I was too scared to, but I definitely used a needle to scratch to the point where it stung and left marks for days. Just enough to numb the pain and isolation caused by having to live with the huge secret of what my father had done. Just enough to provide relief for the anxiety and pain I felt on the inside that I couldn't express to anyone.

My father is a sex offender, charged and convicted with indecency with a child. He molested a girl two years older than me and lied about it for years. He is also an abuser. For years, he abused my mom and myself. He would scream at me and tell me I was a worthless bitch and would amount to nothing. Lots of other obscenities were flung in the years to come after I became a teenager. There were times when he would push me against a wall and cock his fist back at me, saying I was "so damn lucky" because he had so much self-control or I would be through the wall. He slapped me across the face for "back-talking" and standing up for myself when I told him to be the parent one time when my brothers were hungry, I had a lot of homework, and my mom had a night class. He would tell me everything I was involved in was stupid or a waste of time and money.  And on particularly bad nights, he would beat me with a thick leather belt for whatever "infraction" I had done. Sometimes I have these memories of other things that happened, but I can never decipher if they're real or a nightmare I had. My gut says they're real. The abuse carried on for a while, kept secret because of his promise to make it worse if I ever told anyone, especially my mom. My biological father was/is a manipulative and conniving man, so no one knew anything about the home life I lived. Many still don't or live in denial that it happened.

I was diagnosed with depression when I was just fifteen. Medications made me sick to my stomach and my first counselor was an unsympathetic asshole, who made me shut down even more, so I kept on cutting and prayed that it would all be over soon. One night when I was about sixteen, I tried to end it all and take my life, but I failed twice when the pills didn't work and I was too scared to hold myself under my bath water for long enough. When my mother filed for divorce and my father was forced to leave, things improved but it was still hard because I had to go on court ordered visitation with him every other weekend. I tried counseling a second time and was able to find a counselor who was understanding, empathetic, and allowed me to open up at my own given pace when I trusted her. The cutting stopped and I was finally able to breathe for the first time in nearly three years around the time I turned eighteen and was able to walk away from my biological father.

Through the last twelve years, I have had a lot of ups and downs with depression, anxiety, and struggling with finding who I am. During my years of abuse, I was told I wouldn't amount to anything. Now I have two degrees and yet, I still feel worthless sometimes because of all the years of hearing I was nothing. It's difficult for me to trust and open up in relationships, both romantic and non-romantic, because of the abuse. I question people's intentions toward me and constantly look for reasons for people to hate me, even when there are none. Sometimes my anxiety is so bad, I can't even hear my own rational thoughts over the constant nagging thoughts of how stupid I sound or how my decision is just going to end badly. My anxiety spikes on particularly bad days when I'm triggered by a memory or I happen to see a vehicle that resembles the one my biological father supposedly drives. I've even seen him in public a few times, which tail-spun me into an anxiety attack. I happen to have two degrees in Psychology, so I understand the processes I'm going through with the anxiety, but it doesn't make it any easier to live with.

Depression is something that people tend to romanticize or criticize. There are the posts on Tumblr and Twitter about girls with mascara running down their face and captions about depression, making it seem so glamorous. This is wrong...don't make depression or any mental illness seem like a damn fad. It's dumb and makes everyone who really has a mental illness look completely stupid. Or, on the other side of things, people tend to just tell those who live with depression, "Oh cheer up, it's not that bad" or "Some have it so much worse" or things like that. Thank you, you heartless assholes, for invalidating my feelings and making me feel like a leech on society for something I can't control. Yes, let me just turn off the way I feel and make you feel better about patting me on the shoulder and saying, "There, there", before sending me packing. What people don't understand is how hard I work to keep myself going some days. I work at a mental health agency and sometimes, it's overwhelming and I have to remind myself to leave it at the office instead of taking home some of the things I hear and see.

Something I have learned through living with depression for so many years is compassion and understanding. If someone comes to me and says that they are having a hard time getting out of bed every day, I won't judge them because I know that struggle. I might have a full-time job, but some days it is very difficult for me to get up and going. Some days I have to mask the inner struggle, even from my closest friends, because I don't want to burden them with the really dark things that go through my mind, even in passing. And some days, the storm lifts long enough for me to see the sun. To know that I'm not going insane from the weight I feel. It gives me hope and provides me with the strength to fight the bad days. That is what I fight for. To have more good days than bad. And I know I'll get there again.

By The Grace of God

Sometimes no one gets it. No one understands how hard I have worked in the last twelve years of my life. Or how hard it is for me still to function. And if you've never suffered from depression or had a background in Psychology, you don't understand what goes through my head or how I think. So invalidating my feelings, even if you don't mean to or think you're helping, does nothing to help me and makes me even more reluctant to talk to you about what's going on in my head and about the things I've gone through in my past that I've never opened up about to anyone.

I've rarely ever truly opened up about the abuse I went through in my childhood and teen years, even to counselors and friends. Though I've shared pieces and snippets, there is a huge part of it I've kept to myself for a long time that I don't think I'll ever be able to share with anyone no matter how close I am to them. Physical, emotional, mental, and verbal abuse all became a huge snowball that rolled me over again and again as I was growing up. Being slapped, thrown against a wall, and held in a choke-hold against the wall by your father while he cocks his fist back and says "You're so damn lucky I have so much self control or you'd be through this wall right now" isn't how you want to remember your childhood, but that is a lot of what I remember about my younger years. Wishing you were dead instead of dealing with it...that's something I remember feeling too, all the time. Even as I got older and my abusive parent was no longer in the picture, I would have nightmares about it that plagued me into adulthood and sometimes still reoccur when I'm feeling particularly stressed.

And I have never opened up about my suicide attempt when I was 16. No one, save one person, knows about that and I have never talked about it openly with anyone. But I reached a point so low when I was that age that I couldn't imagine going on anymore and did try to take my life. That, coupled with my increasing problem of self-harm was what pushed me to finally get help because I realized I couldn't keep going the way I was and live. And by the grace of God, I somehow survived and made it through to adulthood, though nothing is perfect and I still struggle with all of it.

Despite all of this, I still want to reach out sometimes...but each time, I find some reason not to. I don't want to burden people with my problems because I'm the one with two degrees in Psychology and should be able to deal with this shit by now, but the truth of the matter is that I can't. I've pushed the stone so far up the hill without help that I fear it's going to run my ass over if I try to hold it up by myself anymore. But the people I would turn to don't understand it or if they do, I don't want them to feel like I'm asking them to take this from me on themselves because I'm not. I just want to be able to feel normal for once in my life. But what will it take for me to finally feel it?

Battlefield

It's easy to fall in love, but it's so hard to
Break somebody's heart
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Once lust has turned to dust and all that's left's held breath

Forgotten who we first met
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

We both know it's coming, does illusion count for something -- we hide
The surface tension's gotta break, one drop is all it takes to flood out this lie

You and I we have to let each other go

We keep holding on but we both know
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Peace will come when one of us puts down the gun
Be strong for both of us, no please don't run, don't run
Eye to eye we face our fears unarmed on the battlefield

We seemed like a good idea

No blood

Will spill if we both get out now
Still it's hard to put the fire out
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Feelings are shifting like the tide, and I think too much about the future

What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

We both know it's coming, does illusion count for something -- we hide
The surface tension's gotta break, one drop is all it takes to flood out this lie

You and I we have to let each other go

We keep holding on but we both know
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield

Peace will come when one of us puts down the gun
Be strong for both of us, no please don't run, don't run
Eye to eye we face our fears unarmed on the battlefield

 
We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

We seemed like a good idea

To Live

"To live would be an awfully big adventure." - Hook

The death of Robin Williams has shaken me to the core of my being. To see someone I grew up watching in movies like Aladdin, Flubber, Mrs. Doubtfire, Fern Gully, and so many more succumb to something I have struggled with for ten years brings it home to me. 

Depression is a bitch. It can sneak into your life and betray you at any given moment. You can fight it back and push it to the edges of oblivion, masking it with smiles and laughter, but if you don't seek help or find a way to treat it, the darkness will creep back in and make you feel like you have nothing. And that loneliness is what often pushes those who hide it to the brink of drastic measures, such as suicide. To put it into perspective, I use this analogy to describe it to someone who has never experienced depression or doesn't understand how you can be alone in a room full of people: Think of yourself in a room full of people, but you are in a soundproof box. People can see you and certainly do see you all the time as they pass you by, but do they hear you? Even if you're screaming at the top of your lungs for help to get out, do they really know what you're saying or understand that you're asking for help? That is how depression makes you feel. It isolates you, like a deceitful little monster that lives in your mind, telling you that no one cares or that no one is going to listen to you anyway. And society's views on mental health and illness don't help either.

As a whole, society fears what they do not understand or what isn't "normal", which is why having a mental illness like depression carries such an unnecessary stigma. Unfortunately, it takes someone as famous as Robin Williams dying to bring light to the problems surrounding the mental health system and the views of society as a whole. How many other people have taken their lives in the last month alone because they had nowhere to turn or feared what people might think if they asked for help? How many more deaths can we prevent by being more compassionate and understanding of those who are struggling and need help? 

I have struggled with depression for ten years, since I was only fifteen. And the amount of pressure I have felt to hide my struggles is almost insurmountable at times. There are times when I want to break down and tell people that I just can't do anything today, but I force myself to wear a smile and do it anyway, no matter how much I just want to lay in my bed and sleep. I have hidden the fact that I self-harmed for many years from almost everyone and the fact that I considered taking my life on more than one occasion when I was a teenager. And while I have a better grip on my problems now than I did ten years ago, it doesn't mean that I don't still have days where I just want to give up. 

Depression is often times a life-long battle between a person and their monsters, which is why we need a better mental health system and a better view of those who are struggling with their inner demons. Not only for those with depression, but those who struggle with addiction, bi-polar disorder, and so many other problems. And when we start changing the attitudes of society and the path of care, then can we start to mend the hearts and souls of the broken.

Slipped Away

I miss you, miss you so bad
I don't forget you, oh it's so sad
I hope you can hear me, I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away

Was the day I found it won't be the same

A little more than two weeks ago, my Papaw passed away from this life and we laid him to rest. He suffered a stroke in March of 2013 before fighting hard for a year to continue to live and stay with us through many complications of his heart disease. Like any Marine, he soldiered through procedures, doctors' visits, nursing home stays, and horrible, inconsistent home health care with nurses that didn't show up and aids who were no help at all. He was denied benefits from the Veterans Association, which would have helped pay for a wheelchair ramp to our house and the modifications to the bathroom to help bathe him. Even though he served three tours of duty in Vietnam and one in Korea, it seemed like no one wanted to help my Papaw, even though he fought bravely for this country and served for twenty-two years before retiring from the Marine Corps. For a year, my family waited for help when no one would step up to the plate and fix it. But that is for another time and another place.

My Papaw may have had his faults in life, like all human beings do, but he quietly served others in ways that he never received or wanted recognition for. He brought food to people who needed it, helped fix houses, mowed lawns for elderly neighbors, and served on the Honor Guard for military funerals in the area, serving other military families in morning. His quiet service to others and his unwavering loyalty to the military he served and loved is what I remember and will always remember about him. Like the saying goes, the Marines are always the first ones in and the last ones out of any fight. My Papaw was the first one to offer help to others and the last one to leave when the job was done. I'll never forget Sunday barbeques at our house or how he would put out the rose bushes every year in front of our house. And I won't forget hearing him yell and curse at the hammer when he hit his finger while trying to work on something in the garage. My Papaw might have been a simple man, but he was never simple in the actions and service he did for others. I'll always miss him, like I miss my Grandma Sandy from the other side of my family, but I know he's there with me now and forever.

Let It Go

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the Queen
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I've tried

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know
Well now they know

Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don’t care
What they’re going to say
Let the storm rage on, the cold never bothered me anyway

It’s funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all

It’s time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me
I’m free

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You’ll never see me cry
Here I stand
And here I stay
Let the storm rage on

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I’m never going back,
The past is in the past

Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand in the light of day
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway 

Hearing this song brought me to tears as I watched Frozen today with my mom because of the significant meaning behind it. For someone who has lived her whole life hidden behind doors of isolation, finding freedom and liberation in being who she is can be invigorating. Elsa, the Snow Queen, lived her entire life hiding her powers because she considered them to be bad due to what she was told about them when she was young and after accidentally hurting her sister while playing with them. But after an incident that revealed her powers, she took off into the mountains to test her powers and find out what they were really about rather than having to hide them. And in these moments, she really sees herself for who she is...the passionate, caring, gifted girl that she always has been. A girl who only wanted to be herself, but was so afraid to be out of fear of hurting those that she loved the most, her only sister. But in isolating herself and keeping her powers a secret, it hurt her sister by pushing them apart.

All my life, I've hidden myself away like Elsa. Never allowing people to see my true self because of the fear that they wouldn't like what they would see. I pretended to not like something or not be as excited because it would be weird and hid my mental illness because I was terrified it would push people away, but I've reached that precipice of my life where I just do not give a damn what people think. I've let go of my 'good girl' image and am finally stepping into my own storm and letting it rage around me full force to show people who I am and what I'm capable of. And for the first time in my life, it feels good to be me. I guess that's one reason they say that your twenties really do show you who you are and let you figure out what you want in life. For now...I've let it all go and am standing here in the light of day, all on my own.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry I'm UGLY

I'm sorry I'm FAT

I'm sorry I LIE

I'm sorry I CUT

I'm sorry I'm BROKEN

I'm sorry I'm DAMAGED

I'm sorry I HURT

I'm sorry I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY HOW I FEEL.

I'm sorry for everything.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm SORRY.

No More To Give

"I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing! I always get myself in these fucking situations. I give everything to other people and nobody ever...I never...I don't get what I want." -Tiffany Maxwell from Silver Linings Playbook

Never has a single quote succinctly described my life so accurately in one shot. I'm the type of person that really just gives and gives until I can't anymore. All my life, I've been that way and there were times when I didn't mind it so much because my friends/family were happy. And that is all I ever really want is for them to be happy. But here lately, I've been feeling like I have no happiness for myself. Nothing left. For a few months now, I've been feeling the depression creeping back in...threatening to take me over once more in a way that I know is dangerous. Yet there is this big part of me that just wants to let it take over...because I've reached the point where I just don't give a damn. But the rational, educated side of myself knows I can't do that.

I've felt empty for months, hiding it behind a smile and a lot of bad jokes that most people don't pay attention to anyway. And it's worked well for me. No one has really taken the time to see it because they've been so busy with their lives...not that I blame them. We're adults now and it's much harder to catch something with your friends or family when you're focusing on a million other things at once. But I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up. That is what depression feels like, day after day after day. And it freaking sucks.

People are so quick to say "well if you don't like your life, then you can change it" but that isn't how this works. Depression doesn't just have an on/off switch that I can flick whenever the hell I want to. This is something I was diagnosed with when I was 15-years-old and have been dealing with for almost 10 years. And until recently, I pretty well had it in check, but something has triggered it into overdrive to where I find it difficult to even get up in the mornings and find purpose in my day. I pretend I have it together for everyone else, but when I'm alone...all I do is cry and wait for answers that are never going to come about all the shit I've been dealing with all my life. All the nightmares I wake up from. And all the things I wish I could erase from my life. I can't though, which means I have to just suck it up and move on the best I can and pray that something will save me from the worst enemy I have. Myself.

I Want Crazy

“The problem is we’re human. We want more than just to survive. We want love.”-Lexie Grey

At the root of all human emotions is the desire to feel wanted...to feel loved. Be it from family, friends, or a significant other, no one wants to be alone or feel alone because we were made to be social creatures. I saw this photo and short story on the internet that said, “According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings condemning them to spend their lives in search for their other halves.” It was a profound thought to me because in some sense, it's true. We spend our entire lives searching for the other person that completes us. And most people think that the person they're looking for will be perfection, but that simply isn't the case...we're all human, so none of us are perfect. But if you're looking for that imperfect person that will see you perfectly and you the same for that person, then you're on the right track.

Society has permeated this belief that all relationships will be perfect through media and movies, but in reality...no relationship is perfect. They have flaws and people are going to mess up. If you know me fairly well, which most who actually read this blog do, then you'll know that the relationship I long to have is something like Lexie Grey and Mark Sloan. Yes, I'm using a television reference, but bare with me as I explain. For those who don't watch Grey's Anatomy, the easiest way to explain their relationship is this: Mark was a manwhore that fell in love with Lexie, the little sister of his best friend's future wife, who was 14 years his junior. There were a lot of complications with their relationship, including his 18 year old daughter he didn't know he had showing up pregnant and then the mistake he made in getting his best friend pregnant while he and Lexie were broken up. (I'm simplifying a lot of this for reasons.) But despite ALL of that, they still loved each other because they were meant to be.

"I love you. Oh God... Oh, my God, that just came flying out of my face. I love you. I just...I did it again. I love you. I do. I just, I love you. And I have been trying not to say it. I have been trying so hard to just mash it down and ignore it and not say it and… Jackson is a great guy. He is. He’s gorgeous and he’s younger than you, he doesn’t have any grandkids, or babies with his lesbian BFFs, and he’s an Avery, and he liked me, you know? He really liked me. But it was never gonna work out, because I love you. I am so in love with you. You’re in me. You’re like— it’s like you’re a disease. It’s like I am infected by Mark Sloan and I just can’t think about anything or anybody and I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. And I love you. I love you all the time. Every minute of every day. I love you. God, that feels good to just say that. I feel so much better. I love you." -Lexie Grey

This is the kind of love I want. To have someone that makes me love them so much that I get frustrated and mad at them, but also love them at the same time. I want a love that is all consuming and makes me able to forgive their flaws and their mistakes because they would forgive mine. All I have ever wanted was to love someone so much that I can't imagine my life without him. He doesn't have to be perfect because God knows that no one is...but if he is perfect in my eyes, flaws and all, that is what matters. Not once have I ever wanted an easy relationship...and I don't think I ever will. Because we're human...and humans are complex creatures.

Loss

The range of emotions I have felt in the last week have really put me through the ringer. For what feels like the millionth time in the last year, I am close to losing another person I love. My Papa, who has been in my life since the day I was born, had a stroke last Sunday. And though the doctors have tried their hardest, he isn't responding well to any of the rehabilitation treatment that they have been trying. In addition to the stroke, he's had underlying health issues including a heart condition and the fact that his liver is shot because of the abuse of alcohol for more than fifty years. That, coupled with his stubbornness and desire to not be in a hospital, have lead them to believe he will not benefit from any treatment they can give him. Because of this, they are transferring him to a nursing care facility for 30 days to see if he can improve outside of a hospital. And if not, they will be setting up home hospice care.

After going through losing a grandparent in August of last year, this is something that hurts so much for me. This is the Papa that I have lived with for almost four years, off and on, and has taken care of me time and time again. My Memaw is beside herself and broke down earlier, which I have never seen her do before. The only other time I've seen her cry was when my Memaw Bernice, her mother, passed away in 2008, so this is so hard on all of us. It seems like I've lost so many people I love lately and that...is just painful for me. My Memaw Bernice in 2008, Great-Grandma in 2009, Grandma in 2010, Lisa's dad last July, and then Nana Connie in August. And now I'm facing losing my Papa, which I understood was a possibility because of his stroke and health, but it just...doesn't seem fathomable. My Papa is a Marine through and through and perhaps the most stubborn person I know on this earth, so him succumbing to health problems just doesn't compute for me. It reminds me of how precious time with family and loved ones truly is.

Breathe

None of you could ever understand the dark places my mind goes and has gone before.

Mindless Rambling

Some people say that you can tell what you want to do in life as early as elementary school. For some people, that's true. I've known people that have said that they wanted to be a fireman or in the military when they were in grade school that have gone on to become those very things. But for most of us, well at least those who are like me, that decision or revelation does not come until much later. For me, I knew what I wanted to do when I was in high school. After I went through a lot of personal and traumatizing situations, I knew that I wanted to help people. But I was not sure which kind of helping I wanted to do until I got to college. It was there that I discovered Psychology and found my calling. I want to help people and become someone that they can trust when they need someone to talk to that is unbiased, genuine, and real in therapy. That has been my passion and goal since I was younger. People always seemed to come to me with their problems, so it makes sense for me to find that as my calling.

Now I'm in my third week of graduate school and feeling a little overwhelmed as I'm in a new city with no one I know. This is the path that I've been set on a long time ago and I intend to see it through, even if I feel lost and alone right now. I have been trying to make friends, but it is so difficult when everyone already seems to know each other and doesn't wish to befriend the new person. Sometimes I think that I made the wrong decision in coming to San Angelo, but then my program is great and I really enjoy my classes at the same time. Where do I find the balance? What makes it worse is when I feel as though very few people care about me from home. I just wish that I could skip the next two years and be done with school to move on with the part of my life that I wish to be at. To find a place where I can call home and actually know someone there I can spend time with rather than eating my lunch and dinners alone. Maybe it won't be so bad once I start working...I can hold onto that hope and think that it will get better. If not, then maybe I can do most of my classes online when I'm in practicum and commute for what classes I can't from Abilene. These are all things I need to talk with my adviser about and see what she thinks. Maybe it'll be best for me since I seem to like online classes better.

Family

Over the past few days, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the meaning of family and what a family really looks like. My parents divorced when I was 16 and even before then, we really didn't have much of a traditional family to begin with because of all the fighting, hatred, and abuse within the house. But now, at 23 almost 24, I finally know what a real family looks like. My Nana Connie passed away this weekend, leaving behind a huge legacy of love, devotion, and family that will be with the kids, grandkids, and nieces and nephews for the rest of our lives. When my Nana married my Papa Gene 32 years ago, she had 2 kids of her own and he had 5 boys himself. Together, they raised all 7 of the kids under the same roof without the inclination of step or otherwise. And that is how this family has been since. When my mom married us into the family, I was 18 or so, but Connie and Gene took us in as another set of grandkids to love and spoil. And for the past 6 years, we have been part of this wonderful family where we all laugh, spend time together, and support one another during the tough times.

I consider myself blessed to have such a mixed and large family, even if we do get crazy and loud most of the time. And I know that Nana is going to continue to watch over all of us for the rest of our lives because it's what she did when she was here with us. I'll always miss her, just like I will always miss my Grandma and Memaw Bernice. But I have 3 angels up in the clouds watching over me always. It still is weird to me not hearing the voices of these women who have had such an influence on my life, but I know that I will carry the lessons of love that they taught with me all the days of my life. I hope to do them proud in the future as I grow up and become more of an adult.

Life Decisions

In the past couple of weeks, I've been thinking about where I want to be in five years and what I want my life to be like. Recently, I went up to New York state to visit one of my best friends and while we were there, we went and had our fortunes told at the Ren fair. Now before you say that there isn't any stock to having your fortune told or that I'm stupid for believing it, I want to tell you that what I experienced was real. I had a medium done, where spirits of relatives or friends come to the psychic and talk to me through her. And my grandma came through. Judge all you want and say that it was just a generic thing that they all use to trick people, but this was real. She knew things about my grandma that NO ONE outside of family could have known. That shocked me, but what she had to say through the psychic was even more important and pertinent. My grandma was always one to encourage me to follow my heart and do what I want to do, regardless of what other people say or think about my decisions. She was the one to encourage me to follow my heart, no matter how big or weird my dream was. In fact, she was the one that told me I would be a good counselor. But that is beside the point. What she had to share with me through the psychic was basically that I'm on the right life path and that I shouldn't worry about other things while I'm focusing on my dream. She told me to not be afraid of the changing paths of life.

This leads me to a decision that I've come to make. I have always said that I wanted to move outside of Texas, but didn't know where I wanted to move because I didn't have friends or family in any particular state that I was interested in living in. Now that I've been to somewhere else and seen with my own eyes another place, I've fallen in love with New York. My ultimate goal was to get out of Texas, but now I have a real place set in mind. New York state is where I want to be after I finish my Master's Degree in two years. I've done the research and if I network myself with a licensed counselor in New York, I can do my supervised hours there and take their certification test to become an LPC for New York. I know that it is a huge leap of faith to move 1600 miles away from my family, but it's something I want to do. New York is beautiful and I know people up there, so I wouldn't be totally alone. It's a decision that I have 2 years to do my research for and to prepare for, but ultimately, it's where I want to be. Not just because I have friends in the area, but because it would be a new adventure for me to start a whole new chapter of my life and live fearlessly, just like my grandma would want me to.

Why I Detest Organized Religion

Now before you all go jumping on your high horses about why I'm being "unchristian" or something along those lines, I am putting this disclaimer. This does not constitute that I do not believe in God or Jesus, but it simply states that I don't like religion in an organized manner. Allow me to explain myself fully before you bring out the torches and pitchforks to burn me at the stake for hypocrisy.

To understand my dislike of organized religion, you have to understand a little bit about me first. When I was 16-years-old, I witnessed one of the greatest travesties of religion and the supposed followers of Jesus that I have ever known. My parents divorced the year following my 16th birthday after my father was convicted of indecency with a child and admitted to my mother that he was guilty all along. After this happened, my mother chose to take myself and my brothers and leave our father, filing for divorce about a month later once she had all the paperwork and funds together. Instead of supporting us, the church that I grew up in turned their backs on us and would not help my mother because they didn't consider her divorcing my father to be "Biblical". (Though she had that right YEARS ago when he cheated on her.) Not once did any member of this said church call my mother to check on us kids or see if we needed anything now that my mother was a single parent to three teenage children receiving no government assistance or child support. They all considered themselves to be people of Jesus, but yet they did not follow the simplest command of Jesus to help others who are in need because they were too proud to admit that my mother was right in divorcing the man who had done so much damage to so many peoples' lives.

Fast forward seven years to the present and you will find an enlightened version of my sixteen-year-old self. In the past few years, I have gone to many different churches and experimented with different religions, including Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic. But I've come to the conclusion for myself that organized religion isn't what was intended for God's people. All churches have really done is taken what was meant to be a guide for life and deconstructed and manipulated the word to say what they want it to say. The mantra I grew up with was similar to "Don't do this, you'll go to hell. Tattoos are for Devil worshipers. Cursing is unacceptable. Homosexuality is the Devil's handiwork and they are all going to hell. This church is the only church you can get into Heaven with." and so on. But as I've explored religion and spirituality for myself without someone shoving it down my throat, I've come to realize that most of those things are just not true. Yes, there are things you will be condemned for, like murder and things like that. But I've taken a different path and view on other things, like tattoos and homosexuality. I believe that everyone is the way that they are because they were born that way. And tattoos are meant to be a celebration of something you believe in or feel strongly about. (Or, in some cases, just something stupid you want to put on your body because it's funny.) But I honestly don't believe that God would condemn you for decorating your body or because of who you fall in love with.

I also don't believe that He will condemn anyone for being the "wrong" religion. Honestly, who does have it right? There are so many denominations in the world today that we can't honestly tell who is the "right" choice. None of them date back 2000 years to when Jesus said "upon this rock, I will build my church." The oldest "organized" church that follows the teachings of Jesus Christ are the Catholic church, but they only date back 900 years or so. For that reason, among many others, I have decided that I will not claim any one set religion, but instead embrace my own spirituality. Am I opposed to going to church? Not at all. In fact, I enjoy going to many different churches to experience the fellowship of God's people, but I will never permanently establish myself in one or the other. Instead, I intend to do as Jesus did and make my own church within myself. He traveled the world, teaching to others and didn't confine himself to one building. Why shouldn't I do the same and not stick myself in one organized religion for the rest of my life? Being Jesus to others out in the real world where it counts is more important to me than pretending every Sunday and Wednesday in a building.

So Far Away

How do I live without the ones I love?
Time still turns the pages of the book it's burned
Place and time always on my mind
And the light you left remains but it's so hard to stay
When I have so much to say but you're so far away

The past few days have been some of the hardest I have ever gone through emotionally in my life. What has happened is comparable to the days leading to and the day my Grandma died 2 years ago. My best friend's dad, who has been like a second father to me since I was 10 years old, was admitted to hospice care on Wednesday night after his battle with brain cancer took a turn for the worse. (What makes it hit home even more for me is the fact that he is in the exact same room that my Grandma was in when she passed.) Over the past few days, we have stayed at his bed side watching him slip away from us as he has remained unconscious and kept out of pain with medication that is given to him as frequently as he needs it. It's so hard to see him slip away like that, so slowly when his friends and family are there, just waiting for him to find the peace he desperately needs after months of fighting cancer with chemo and radiation, 2 different surgeries, and countless types of medications to keep his swelling and pain at bay so he could fight the cancer that was ravaging his brain. It physically hurts me to have to see him like that, so I know that it is that much harder for my best friend and her family who have known him much, much longer than I have.

Losing him is comparable to losing a dad to me because he was more of a father to me than my biological one ever was. Though he was not my dad, he always told me to call him Dad and took care of me when I was at their house hanging out with my best friend. He taught us how to play darts when we were eleven, would take us to the convenient store and buy us snacks when we wanted something since we couldn't drive back then, and even fixed my car when I was sixteen and my first car broke down all the time. Though he did drink all the time, he was never a mean drunk. In fact, he kept us entertained with his stories from his youth that he would tell all the time when he was slightly drunk. He wasn't a perfect man and he knew that, but he always tried to make everyone around him happy and learned from his mistakes when he hurt someone. It hurts me most to know that he will never be around again to make us all laugh with a random story of something really stupid that he did as a young man or to teach us all something we didn't know before, like where my air filters are in my car. I'll miss him so much and always think of him when we make chocolate chip cookies, since they were his favorite, but I know that he will be in a better place where there is no pain from cancer. That is the only comfort I'm finding in this situation.

My Ink Has Meaning

In today's ever changing world, tattoo acceptance in the work place is slowly progressing. As a tattooed girl, I am excited about this prospect because all of my tattoos have significant meaning to me and are appropriate to be displayed. (Inappropriate tattoos should never be shown in a work setting, but that's a whole other can of worms I don't want to get into and not the purpose of this blog post.) When I sat down and thought about it, I never really fully explained the meaning of all my tattoos. I know this is silly and kind of pointless, but if anyone was ever curious, this are the meanings behind my ink.

Tattoo #1

This was my first tattoo, done in August of 2008. When I thought about getting this done, I contemplated it from before I was 18 until I finally got it done a month before my 20th birthday. I grew up watching the show Charmed, which is about 3 sisters that become witches after a long family history manifests itself when they reunite for the first time after a few years. This was the symbol on the Book of Shadows, which was their familial book that was passed down through generations. The actual symbol is called a triquetra and stands for unity. This unity can be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit or the unity within a family. Either way, I got it as a reminder that all things in my life are connected, whether it's my family, my faith, or even my friendships. I love this one as my first piece of artwork on my body and have fond memories of getting it done in the shop since I was so nervous.

Tattoo #2

My second tattoo was done in October of 2009, when my brother was on leave after his Basic Training from the Army. We got our tattoos done together (his first and my second) by the same artist who did my first one. This was also a belated birthday present from my brother since he missed my 21st birthday because he was at Basic. I was so excited to get this one with him since he was getting his first one at the same time and I'd already been through the process once before. There's nothing like sitting in a tattoo parlor with your brother, getting tattoos together while your youngest brother sits by taking pictures and laughing. The basic meaning of this one is pretty self explanatory. Faith is an integral part of my life because I've come through some pretty crappy things, so I chose to write that one simple word to remind me of it. I also chose to put it on my foot to remind me to "walk by faith" through all the hard times that are sure to come in life as I grow up and figure out who I want to be as an adult. This one took about a total of 15 minutes and hardly hurt at all. In fact, I think I laughed through it at some point because she hit a nerve that made me giggle.

Tattoo #3

My third tattoo is one that has a special place in my heart for several reasons. It was done in October of 2010 by the same artist as my previous 2 tattoos with my best friend Brittany by my side. We both got tattoos that afternoon since we're both ink lovers. This is a lyric from one of my favorite songs by Lady Gaga, who is my idol and inspiration in a lot of ways. The whole lyric is "Find your freedom in the music, find your Jesus, find your Kubrick." Basically it talks about finding yourself and sticking to that, no matter if you find meaning through music, religion, or a passion like film-making. Lady Gaga has been my inspiration in finding myself and not letting others dictate to me what is beautiful or worthy of being loved because I'm different or not "acceptable" by society because I'm not pretty enough or skinny enough. This is my reminder of what her music has done for me in the past few years, showing me that all of us are beautiful. Out of all my tattoos, this one hurt the most, but it was well worth the pain in the end.

Tattoo #4

My last tattoo was one that was done in March of 2012. It was inspired by 4 different things in my life. Firstly, I struggle with an addiction to self-injury and have since I was in the 8th grade. This is my daily reminder that I'm stronger than that addiction and that I can make it. The word itself was inspired by Kelly Clarkson's song "Stronger" and Demi Lovato's "Stay Strong" tattoos on her wrists. Demi Lovato came through issues with an eating disorder and self-injury, which speaks to myself and millions of other girls out there just like us. The heart on the end of my tattoo represents an organization called To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA). It's an organization dedicated to raising awareness about mental health, including problems with eating disorders and self-harm. It's an organization that I proudly support because I am still one of those girls. Though I have been cut free for nearly 6 years, I still struggle with the desire to harm myself when I'm stressed or upset about something happening in my life. This tattoo represents the things I have overcome in life, but also serves as my reminder that I won't fall back into the things that were hurting me in the first place. I'm more than that and this is my proof.