Bad Language

Let me preface by apologizing for the bad language, this blog is rated PG13:

Fuuuuuuuck.....

I know, deep, right? Sometimes no other words will work. For even the most articulate of us, a laymen's word just fit.

I'm tired. So tired. And frustrated, so deeply frustrated. For 26 years I have marveled at the novelty of melodrama. I've been wrapping myself in pretty wrapping of "imperfection" never really thinking it was true. Well, the novelty has worn off. No it's just painful.

When things have fallen apart before, there has always been some sort of net to catch me. Some area in my life that was ultimately part of my identity that was left intact, allowing me some sense of escapism from the reality of how truly flawed I am. When my parents dropped the ball on college (the first time I was supposed to go), I had a new boyfriend to keep from realizing how truly devastating and screwed up it was. When I was divorced, I still had the truly important relationships that had defined me for years and I was so young. So many opportunities, things to do. When an important friendship died, there was my boyfriend and a new found sense of beauty. When I lost my boyfriend, maybe a future in the career I wanted.

In the last year, systematically, everything I have ever defined myself by, the shades of me that I had to hold on to have completely fallen apart, left me stranded without a paddle. There is nothing left for me to feel better about and most of it is at my own hand. The ways I have fought to find so much perfection, the things I have used to mask the secret insecurities I don't want revealed, they have all been betrayed. It's all been a portion of bad language in different form.

I have grown up to believe that there are certain things that make you worthy: beauty, friends, relationships, job, appearance.... those are the important things. White-washed tombs I believe they are called. It is better to be with people, looking good than it is to be alone and comfortable with yourself. I mean after all, if other people don't like you, how do you know you like yourself? What do you have to give, if no one wants what you are offering?

It sounds so fucked up coming out, and yet so correct. Every frigging love song, every book, every TV show, they are all about measuring up, fitting in, being better so others will love you. Hell, secretly I'm in therapy so I can figure out how to be "better" so I can get more love and acceptance. I have absolutely no sense of self. No sense of living for me, for what I believe, for what I want, for what I think is right. I'm always too fat, too needy, too poor, too irresponsible, too sensitive, too overdramatic, too attention getting.... too anything. I'm exhausted and I'm 26. I'm supposed to be just starting life, still having an appetite for the unknown. Currently I am too tired to even get to the gym spending an arm and a leg on therapy.

Always on the fringe, rarely do I ever feel apart of the action, but I don't really want attention, just enough to fit in, not more than will let me get by without someone pointing out what a defect I a really am. You know the bitch of it? Those that I have let closest to me, they have echoed my greatest fear as they walk out. I told my therapist how it has been pretty hard losing so much, and she had the simple wisdom to point out that no one had ever really "chosen" to love me in my life. It felt oddly relieving and frightening at once to have it pointed out so clearly. I quickly did an inventory of the people in my life and knew how correct she was. I croaked out my one question that burned deep after she had stated it, "Is that normal?"

The truly important people in my life have loved me for selfish reasons. I know this is true of most, but for some reason, it has wrapped me in Saranwrap of shame. With my father, it was to make him feel like a good guy, with my mom it was to fill her need for a "normal" family (sorry mom, hate to break it, but we didn't seem to fit the bill), with my sister it was because she had to, with my ex-husband it was to fill his constant void, with my ex-best friends it was to fill their needed space of the funny fat girl, with my ex boyfriend it was to help him prop up his ego and need continued "good guy" routine. With each one of them, we went round and round in the game of how guilty could we make each other feel when we didn't get what we wanted or needed. Eventually, with each one of them, I wanted something they either could not, or would not give and I was easily thrown overboard, my desires become unneeded baggage weighing down their boat.

Granted they were trading me as well, my anything for their presence. I was okay with me as long as they were. I needed them to help me feel better about me. Now that's gone, along with my super youth and I find myself with no net to catch my continuing dive of ego.

Some would say this sort of internal work is great, it's necessary, it's "pruning." Well as I stare at the same view I have been looking at for 15 years, an open bottle of "house wine" and a pint of Hagaan Dazs feeling my ass spread, I don't feel much relieved, or good. I feel the worst thing I could ever feel: lonely.

I wish I could go back. I wish I could go back to when things seemed perfect. There was a split second of time when everything was amazing. Life was before me, my boyfriend beside me, my friends secure and safe, my appetite for food suppressed while life loomed beautifully before me. I knew it was all a mirage, about to fade at any moment, but oh how I relished the seconds as they ticked by. Even as I sit here though, I know, no matter how perfect things get or were, as long as I feel defective, I am always going to be afraid of the return to well... here. As long as I think I don't deserve any better, I will continue to wait for disaster to befall and I will find people to help me get there. I will sabotage before it even starts for taking whatever I can get from others, hoping somehow either they will save me, or I will save them. And hell, maybe if I save them enough times, they will want to save me for once. I needed them to be perfect so I could feel perfect, or at least better. I've said it a million times, someone good loving me somehow told me I was good.

I kept waiting for everything to just work out. My father instilled this weird belief in me that somehow, magically, things were just going to work out. Now, however, I am beginning to realize that isn't the case at all. Most of life has to be lived with intention, with purpose, fully aware of what is happening. Accepting the reality of life isn't so bad though. There are parts of me beginning to understand that loving me, my body, my mind, my heart, my soul, my completely flawed self, may just be what I need. The more I begin to accept my flawed and imperfect way of being, I am just starting to see the outline of how it will set me free.

I'm lonely. I'm tired. Anyone would be if they were me, especially if they had spent a lifetime trying to make excuses for why they should be loved. Well, I can't anymore. I'm difficult. I'm cranky, frustrating and controlling. I want depth and sometimes I try to take it from people by force. I'm not always the perfect employee, friend, sister, daughter, lover. In fact, most times I'm not. But then again, no is anyone else and no one can mask that for me, nor can I for someone else. That's not what this life is about.

Somehow, in all of our imperfection, it is the relationship of us to ourselves, to God and to each other, somewhere in the midst of the pain we cause and the pain caused us, the fruit born and not born, the worms hidden in the apple, is the beauty that we are meant to find. I can't truly see it, or experience it in another though, unless I find it in me. I have to find my relation to this myself and this world in order to find proper relation to others. Everything must have it's place, and for most of my life, my priorities have been upside down. A lot of lip service has been given, but my constant failing has proved it just as such. What's the saying? "Bullshit talks, but money walks." Truth.

As of right now my life looks nothing like I want it to. I want my own place, I want a community where I am known and people love each other.... by choice. I want peace, grace and understanding for myself, and a 26 inch waist. I want to prove to myself, that I am not dependent on images for whether or not I can accept me. I want to feel whole, to act whole, to receive whole.

I don't know how to do any of this. I don't know where to go to church, how to talk to my family, how to not walk into work feeling like the most overpaid employee ever. I don't know how to handle finances, to not feel defective, to make healthy choices, to see value in myself for no other reason than I was born. I don't know how to not be defined by everything I has been my definition and I don't know how to truly succeed.

I guess eventually I will figure it out. Between my therapist, Kindle and Oprah, I should be able to get a glimpse of what a healthy person really looks like. Oh and I guess Jesus would help too.

I hear Lifehouse Storm playing. I know everything will be alright.... I will walk on water, you will catch me if I fall... I know you didn't bring me out here to drown. Barely surviving has become my purpose...

I want to believe that. I want to believe that everything happens for a reason, but even that I have seen abused, used as excuses to hurt or escape responsibility. I want to see real result. I want to see real fruit, real hope out of ashes. I know I am so far from that, so long from seeing anything beautiful come out of the pitiful mess I've made of my life, but still, I want to believe. I want to know He is ultimately still loving me, fighting on my behalf, in control of something, somewhere. I want to know that fighting against the tide of everything I have ever been taught, every message I have ever received will bear out some goodness. My instincts tell me it's too early to tell. They also tell me, that will be partly my decision. I can only pray that as I walk this journey, learning more about me, about truth, about what truly is and isn't will lead me toward His ultimate goal, whatever it is. I also pray, since I seem to have no idea what I really want, He will reveal the deep desires He has placed in me, and He won't hold back in filling in those gaps. Until then, I have a bottle of fine $4 wine to top off and the last episodes of Dexter to hold me over until my next over price therapy session. Amen.

Hope Yet

For as long as I can remember, there has been something missing, something broken, something cracked, in my foundations. I've spent the last five years writing, talking and seeking therapy about it. Ironically enough though, part of me thought it was okay. I knew I struggled, but everyone does, right? In part, yes. In part, no.

For the first time though, as another layer has been peeled back, as another life circumstance has revealed that brokenness, as another turn around the same mountain has come and gone, I can no longer ignore the true demons I face. I am at a fork in the road and to decide my path I can no longer claim ignorance. No one is responsible from this moment on, besides me.

I think most people in life walk the fine line of trying to portray what we want to be, what we think we should be. I have always known this, never lied about it, but I think I wasn't aware of how damaging it really is. I've spent a lifetime running from myself, praying and hoping someone, anyone would save me with their love. Whether it is friends, family, or lovers, it has always been the same game of working so hard to give them what they want, forming myself against what I really am.

I was working through some things with my therapist and one of the more pertinent things she said was that when you make a boundary with someone, the risk is, they may not be okay with it. We talk about boundaries as easy, clear and simple, but when your whole life system is built around the notion that you are only worth as much you can give others what they want, boundaries are a privilege, not a necessity. They become threats against the very thing I seek the most: love and acceptance. Ironically enough, this left me wide open to feel rejection as a complete and total comment on me rather than someone else's choice. Now it was about me.

It's ironic, I desire true love, real acceptance, real respect, real effort and commitment, so I chase after others and in the process, defeat myself. If I am twisting, pulling and grasping at them to give me what I need, hoping with all hope that they will speak the words that will heal me, the broken place, they can never know the real me. I morph into their desired image to gain something and along the path, lose respect for myself subconsciously knowing, as long as I am propping myself up for them, they aren't loving me at all. It's all a big sham, and deep down, it only reenforces the notion that I am only worth what I can give, rather than ever hope for relationships that are mutual and healthy. Eventually I stop giving them what they want and it all falls apart again.

A great visual of this was me working feverishly to be with a man that so obviously wasn't up to making a real relationship work. I pandered after a man that can't keep a job, live on his own and has no issues with taking from me whatever he can get and me having no concept that this isn't okay would be almost comical if it hadn't been so true. I would have jumped the moon for him, but the first sign of my less than perfect existence and he was heading for the door faster than a speeding bullet. I've seen people jump out of relationships, but never with such easy blame and manipulation. I still struggle with feeling it was all my fault... but yet, that is just another demon to face and slay. When he walked away he left with the phrase "I just found out who you were..." To a person that feels shame deeply and only wants to be loved and accepted, it is more than a knife to the heart. It is a confirmation of the deepest fear: if you saw the real me, you wouldn't love me. The truth is, I wanted intimacy and was fighting to find a way to get there, and he could only go so far. He was right, we wanted different things, I wanted to learn and grow, he didn't want to change. He wanted to different lives: who he was and who he wanted people to think he was and someone loving you doesn't leave much room for lies. I couldn't see that though, all I could see was the rejection. That's what needing love does. It blinds to everything besides need.

Thus comes the hard process. If I ever want this damn roller-coaster to end, I am going to have to be the one to end it. I am going to have to do what I have never been taught, witnessed nor experienced. I am going to have to learn how to do for me what no one else has ever done: choose to love me. I am going to have to do the very thing I so wish someone would do for me, accept me and all my demons, my brokenness, my insecurity, my neediness and my little girl desire for love and believe I am still okay.

This world is full of hurting people that turn around and hurt others in hopes of feeling better. We all do it. We lash out, we manipulate, we degrade to help prop up the hopelessly failing images we think will make us acceptable enough to love. I've watched girl-friends do it. Example: a good friend of mine was in a very important relationship for her a while ago. It was hard for her when the relationship ended. She was invested and she loved simply and beautifully and I so hurt for her. Well, someone we both knew recently had to bring up the fact that her ex was dating someone new. This person brought up the sore issue under the guise of "How are you doing with that?" Well, my friend had no idea her ex had a girlfriend, and it hurt her, and it hurt bad.

Sounds innocent enough, except, I can see through a little of the bullshit. No one needed to bring it up. No one needed to open that wound. It's high school drama and as friends, why talk about it unless it is volunteered by the injured party? Why? Because it makes the person asking the question, bringing up the wound feel good. For a split second they get to inflict pain that they most likely feel themselves and then turn around and look so kind by feeling so "guilty" it was brought up. It's manipulative and it's mean and... it's what hurting people do.

I expect so much more from the people that surround me, and yet over and over again I am somehow surprised when it happens all over again. A "friend" telling me I need to fatten up so she feels skinnier. Seriously? Another friend leaving a friendship and telling me I "pushed them away." My ex once told me whenever his best friend called me a "bitch" he always told him how I was such a great girl. I'm confused, should I be pissed, hurt, or someone glad that you "stuck up" for me? The truth is, it never needed to be said and if he was any man of honor, he would have no problem telling his friend that those words are unnecessary and he didn't know the whole story... or whatever.

These subtle and not too subtle messages betray the truth: these people aren't happy and they can't see how what they do makes others feel. It's sad and it's typical and I ashamedly admit I have done it so many times in so many ways. The hard part is, I'm rarely healthy enough to see it for what it is and let it go. Instead I let the messages sink in, reenforcing some awful lie I have bought as snake oil: I am the problem. I am damaged, I was lucky you loved me and now I am pathetic that you don't anymore.

This is what happens when I don't have enough respect for myself to surround myself with people that are healthy. I end up being pulled down to a level where I feel as though I am worth nothing more than their cutting words and disrespect.

So I have a choice: believe this is the way it is always going to be, or do it differently. Granted I have no idea how to do it differently, to feel differently, to be different, but somewhere along the line, I want to genuinely be the woman I project, not just in faking it. I want to be full of peace, grace, love and compassion. I want to be stable, respecting myself and others, having boundaries that are appropriate and usher in relationships that are healthy and full of joy and peace, not chaos and degradation. No one makes me good or bad, only I decide whether or not I believe those messages.

I have always wanted someone to risk on me, to see more than just a funny comment, or wise advice, or pure loyalty at any cost. I have always wanted people to see my value, mostly because I didn't know if there was any and I needed others to tell me. Now though, I have to do for me what I always wanted: I have to risk for me. I have to believe I am worth more than just a number of friendships, pairs of shoes, random bits of information and my "fun personality." I have to believe that under the insecurity, the wounding, the neediness, the layers of makeup, hair, clothing, memorized Bible verses, witty conversation and funny anecdotes, there is a woman of value wanting to be set free. It's time for the one thing I have been avoiding, coming to peace with myself.

Circumstances in life have done a pretty good job of revealing all of insecurities and failings I operate out of. It's hard knowing your wounds are so obvious to everyone and it's even harder when those you love use those very wounds as reasons to walk away. It's a double negative that leaves only more shame in it's wake. I feel old and bedraggled before my time. Life seems to be passing me by and I don't know how to restart my engines, but I also know, I can't keep going like this. Something has got to give, and I realize, it's me. What am I really going to believe about me? I said it before, but now it makes more sense, hurting people hurt people, but are those the messages I am going to believe? Who's voice is going to be more important, theirs? Or mine? Who am I going to believe? Is shame and fear going to have the final say? God I hope not.

As I step forward, I realize, things are going to start shifting again. I may lose again. What friends I do have, the ones I have clung to for dear life in the last few years, may not adjust with me. I risk rejection again, but this time, I know the consequences of not making myself, my voice, my heart and my belief about myself a priority. It means I am going to have to take a good hard look at me, forgiving myself my mistakes, my failings, my time lost, and eventually, I am going to have to forgive others. The perspective of unrealistic love, expectations, and daydreams is going to have to end and be replaced with honest evaluation. Who am I and who am I surrounding myself with? Am I going to find the same sort of people all over again, ones that will punish me when my usefulness is gone? Will I continue to find people that keep me on a scale, letting me know when immediately they have tipped in the direction of "too much burden?" Will I even know what it looks like to not live that way? God I hope so.

It will be lonely for a while. All the old systems are going to have to go. I won't know how to speak, see, or listen. I will have to practice brutal honesty, accept responsibility for my part and have grace that tomorrow is a new day and today can still be great. I may be 26, but my life is far from over. Would I rather be surrounded by people that I can't be myself with, constantly living in fear that my needs and desires will push them away for the sake of numbers, activities, or acceptance, or will I let myself be honest, risk a little loneliness for the cause of my own heart? I've lived through worse, for now, maybe I am worth the effort. In time, things will change again. I'll meet new people, build new relationships, adjust to being myself and slowly allow people to meet the real me... as I find her.

It will be slower, less intense, but far more intimate, far more real. Hopefully, as this process continues, I will learn what it means to know love from others in the right way. If between the Lord and I, we become enough, we become my whole, my peace, my meaning and my foundation, then anything on top of that becomes the one thing I have always wanted: authentic.

And who knows, maybe along the way, as I learn to see differently, those that have spoken anything less than respect into my life will stop seeming so important and those that are truly healthy, truly loving, truly hopeful and full of peace will become more and more attractive. The wounds of the past will find their place and finally stop shading the future. Maybe, hopefully, I will begin to have the grace for others I have always sought, to understand their limitations without holding it against them. I won't have to be the one that knows it all, or always has something to say. It will take a while, learning a whole knew set of conversational skills that doesn't involve me trying to fix someone or invading their boundaries since that's all I've ever known, but I think it's possible. I think I may just learn how to speak less and listen more. I think I may learn how to let someone have their struggle without needing to get involved, or feeling responsible. I just may learn how to be peaceful anywhere, anytime, knowing I am okay with me and that is all that matters. I may even learn how to smile from the inside out. I think there's hope for me yet.

It's Been a Good Year

The last year of my life has been anything but idyllic to say the least, but in hindsight, neither has it been so terrible. I say this with tongue in cheek, knowing those of you who read this will probably slap your foreheads in frustration. Let me qualify by saying, everything looks better in a rear view mirror, but still, for what I have learned, it was.... worth it.

For years I was a loud and proud proponent of authenticity. Be authentic! I would yell from my pulpit. Get to know yourselves! I shouted in a touch of pride. It's easy to say when life is fun and tribulation is far. When there is no need for God, it is easy to tell someone to find Him.

In all of His graciousness though, he didn't allow me to stay there. He knew I wanted to love Him out of desire and truth, not 'shoulds' and angst.

It's frustrating isn't it? We journey our whole lives in seeking the safe covering of denial, pulling the corners down around us, stretching it to make sure nothing peaks out. Then He comes along and shatters the glass wall that has kept all we don't want to think about, or remember, or see, at bay and every fear, doubt, anger, memory, wound, sin, arrogant attitude, hateful word, jealous moment, insecure days and shameful acts come tumbling out in a deluge we can't stop. The corners of denial start fraying and tearing under the strain and eventually it can no longer cover what we don't want seen. Casually, He walks by and snaps the final strap and we watch the wind whip it away finding suddenly we are suddenly exposed. The illusion is over.

Some are able to hold on as long as they can, refusing to admit to the purposed humbling, and some are unable to stand under it. Some pull themselves up by their bootstraps refusing help, thus prolonging the inevitable need for another wall to be shattered later, after they return to the safety of another glass wall. Some become victims, perpetually replaying every fear and tear, hoping it will earn them a moment of grace based on victim manipulation and some fold like a house of cards, falling into a pile of emotions waiting to be rescued.

I'm not sure which is the best answer, I know God works with them all, but I was definitely a mix of the two last categories. I broke. I guess I knew deep down, I was meant to break. So I watched helplessly as He came and broke every bone. As though it was without anesthesia, I watched as He came and poked every wound, prodded every insecurity and proved out my greatest fears. He aired out all my arrogance, my pride and made me face the shame of it existing. He turned me to face every hidden doubt I never wanted to admit to, every fearful thought of mine and His weakness. He blew the top off my weak faith and shattered it along with my heart.

I was so angry. I had no idea how angry. It had all been seething there for years, nurtured by arrogance and self-righteousness. When I no longer had those to protect me, the rage and bitterness had nothing to stop it from rising to the surface, my glass wall had shattered. As the anger melted, the insecurity came raging to the surface, popping up in new and creative ways. My usual way of handling it was gone. There was no one to comfort me, no love to bandage an infected heart. I couldn't be rescued. My facade had been ripped off, I was exposed. I wasn't the strong, faithful woman I thought I was. I was an adolescent child in an overgrown woman's body. My denial had been doing me no good.

All the props I had been using were no good anymore. The relationships that made me feel accepted were gone, the sanctuary I could hide in was stripped and the faith I had was proved to be anemic and false, only there to give me comfort, rather than an avenue to really relate to a mysterious God. I was, as David so aptly put it, a wasteland.

There had been too much death in me. Too much denial of the death and too many props keeping me looking alive. How could I relate to a living, dynamic God while working so hard to keep everyone, even myself, from seeing what was really going on in my heart. I needed Him to come reveal it. He knew I needed a beautiful rescue.

I guess that's the catch though. We never can see what He already knows. He had already walked the path with me, but I couldn't know that. He couldn't even let me see that. If I had, somehow, it would have been another prop. It would have been another way to keep sustaining a weak faith that was built on my efforts rather than His. Everything had to go. So He turned off the lights and threw me down a long and deep well, breaking every bone along the way. Oh how I hated Him. Oh how angry I was. And He knew. He knew how ugly it would get, but never once did He stop. Never once did my rage, my doubt or my fear stop Him. He kept coming and kept coming and wouldn't rest. He wouldn't let me rest. It was hit after hit after hit. Loss after loss, greatest fear realized after greatest fear realized. He broke everything and left nothing behind in His destruction. It reminded me of how the Israelites would completely destroy a city when they had won.

I couldn't understand, why would He let me fall like that? Why would He let me question? He used my A personality as the tool in His hand. I got angry, I wanted answers and if He was as good and big as He said He was, then He should be able to provide them. He set me up beautifully. Ah, the wisdom. I guess it doesn't surprise that the one Who created me would know the best way to use me against myself. Sneaky.

He never gave up on me. He could see what I couldn't; that He really was bigger and better and I was really, a lot stronger than I thought. He took what He had given me innately from birth, those character traits I had used for my own selfish gain, and turned them into His tools of trade to destroy me, then He handed them back to me, ready for me to use now for His purposes. My fight, my energy, my passion, my black and white mentality, my emotionalism, my need for truth, they became those perfect instruments for Him to turn against me. I got angry, ashamed, but I fought. I fought against Him, against myself, against anyone that challenged me. I wanted and needed to know, to understand. I never really did, but I wanted to. Only now, after the battle is over, after the dust has settled, after I have already surrendered am I getting a faint glimpse.

But He knew all of that. He knew I would want to understand, but that He couldn't tell me. He knew I would rage and scream and cry and sob and He knew He couldn't rescue me in the way I wanted. He knew He had to actively wound me in His infinite wisdom. I wonder how hard that must have been for Him, watching me cry out and not be able to come rescue me yet. Sometimes I feel His own pain over it. The Father watching His Son die, the Father watching His daughter die, knowing He could take them off their prospective cross', but knowing also, He would be doing neither any justice. And as I wrote my fears and struggles, as I spoke about my pain and doubts, I am humbled by His decision to let me air my grievances, risking His reputation for my soul. He had no fear I would not eventually see Him and His ways. He had no concerns I would "lose my faith" or "walk away." His love, His belief in me was consistent, unshakable and profound. Somewhere deep in me, I knew that. I knew He was the wall I was running into, as blind as I was, it was Him I was learning to bend to. His love was so passionate and true, so unguarded by selfish desires, it let me have all the freedom in the world to choose. It gave me protected space to let the Niagara Falls of pain and anger and selfishness come forth until only a drip remained.

See His desire has been the same from the beginning of time: relationship. That cannot happen between Him and I when I am more worried about holding it all together, or creating an image, or keeping myself from feeling insecure, left out, rejected or abandoned. I've spent a lifetime focusing in how to avoid those things only to either make them happen, or to find, focusing on them will only breed the insecurity, not heal it. I was broken long before He broke me, He just pointed it out in beautiful irony. He held the mirror up forcing me to finally admit I had already was, what I feared most. I was alone, and I was abandoned and I was rejected and for good reason.

In those moments, when I was face to face with all that I had been running from, when everything around me seemed to be mocking and pointing out the very wounds and fears I had been trying to hard to protect myself against, that's when His love became real. No one ever wants to be left because of their defects, it's what we all fear most, and yet here I was, facing that very reality. I had been rejected for the very reasons I was most afraid of being rejected. He created a circumstance where my worst fears blossomed into full blown reality and there was no getting around it. He was brutal and efficient in His breaking of me.

I was what I was, and He was still standing there waiting for me to realize none of it mattered, since He was with me. "Let everyone leave you," He seemed to say, "Let everyone see how arrogant and selfish you are. I already know, and I am here. I see more than everyone and I am pressing in, running towards you, fighting for you asking you to not care what they say, what even you are, and to let me love you. Let ME be all that you and everyone else can't be. Let ME love you to perfection. Let ME build your life around that which is permanent and good and real and hopeful and beautiful and blessed and lovely. Let me build it around us."

That's when the doubts started to become shallow arguments and excuses. That's when the anger started to subside and I stopped being a victim and instead, owned up to a mess I had created. That's the funny thing about desperation, it isn't always so desperate. Sometimes its fairly simple. When I could no longer make the image work, or hold up my own faith, or prop up justifications for actions and emotions, when all the arguments were exhausted and I couldn't convince anyone or anything that "it shouldn't be this way" but it just was, that's when my faith moved from something I read in a book, to watching Jesus change my life.

I don't know what happened, I don't know how it happened, I don't know where it happened, I just know it did. The pieces started falling into place and as I look back, I realize, He had always been in control. It was never about losing someone, or something, it was never about "fighting a good fight." It wasn't even about how bad things were and how sometimes bad things happen to good people. None of that mattered. What mattered was, it was all about Him and me. It was always, from beginning to end, totally and completely, only about Him and I. Losing friends and lovers and families breaking up, dogs dying and homes moved away from, those are terrible things to go through, but none of it was ever about one thing. It was never all my fault, or someone else's wrong, it was never about forging ahead onto some unknown path and staking out my individuality. No, it was nothing so dramatic and cinematic. Simply, it was about Jesus and the Father and the Holy Spirit doing some serious house cleaning. It was about asking me to love Him for Him and never because He blesses me. It was about asking me if I believed because I knew, or because I was told to. It was about helping a little girl with a little faith get on the path of becoming a grown woman with a lot of heart. It was about finding out how small but strong I really am, and how precious and loved while being so ugly and childish. I don't get everything I want, and mostly because I shouldn't. I don't deserve to be loved, but it sure does make me smile when I am. I am not worthy of much, but I was chosen for a lot. I am capable of creating much pain and destruction, but also on a journey of learning real empathy and sacrifice. I am oh so human, but an inheritor of so much supernatural blessing.

It will never stop, this up and down, merry-go-round life. Bad things will happen... and so will good. But none of that is the point. Wounds are inevitable, some purposed by Him, some just the collateral damage of this world, but all of it is intentioned, purposed and used by Him. The ups and downs will happen, but He remains the same. The hope is, eventually the motion, the carousel of emotions, will become less and less powerful in the face of His crushing presence and peace. The hope is, patience will outweigh turmoil as I wait for Him to redeem over and over. Every death, wound, evil in me, or in the world is just another opportunity for Him to prove His love, His ability to save and His desire to bring me closer. All the bad will become just as easily tools in His hand as blessing, in acting out His wisdom and love.

I will admit, this is a hard place to live. I get distracted by fears, hurts, words of others and TV; not to mention IPads and phones and even more so, Facebook. I know I will never stop needing Him to break me over and over again, but I am starting to fear it less. I am starting to trust Him with every future event, need and desire of my heart. If He can melt my heart of stone, nothing is impossible for Him. If He can take was what the worst year of my life and make me thankful for it, that is a sort of miracle that ranks with the parting of the Red Sea.... well at least to me it is. But I guess that's the miracle I was waiting for all along, one that couldn't be rusted by time, stolen by thieves, or eaten away at by others. It is the miracle that only Him and I know and that makes it all the more sweet. It makes it all the more real.

I will always walk with a limp, or have the thorn in my side, or have the memory of the cock crowing at midnight. I flinch when I don't get a call back right away from the man I love, or when a girlfriend says she can't hang out. I over analyze and under trust, I have mini-panic attacks over made up conversations and imagined slights. I worry about getting fat and when I get in an argument with someone, especially those I love, I want to apologize over and over, still insecure about whether or not they will want to see me again. Those are the evidences of being human, wounded and battling insecurity. Those are the scars that remind me start everyday in the presence of the One that loved me unconditionally. Those are the reminders that I will have to learn to trust again, and while I do, patience and grace will be needed. They are also wonderful places to learn again the freedom I have, the peace He has for me, and the beauty He has provided through the people that surround me now. It's slow and steady work, with much stumbling along the way, but I know without compromise, that He is with me every step. I know without a shadow of a doubt how purposed my life is, how big and wonderful He is and how His grace will cover everything. He holds my hand as I step out to love others with a different heart, one that has been marked and scarred, tattered and torn, and healed with skilled fingers and true love. At once I am less confident, but more sure of who I am and I know deep in my heart, He has already gone before me into the next phase, creating a wise path that will only lead to more of Him and that makes everything worth it all.

Let Your Gentleness Be Known

As usual, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, but this time, it has been different. Something happened when I went to DC and came back. I wish I could explain it, but I can't. I heard it once said that the best way to get over a fear, is to experience that very fear. As if facing it, then coming back, or surviving, or even getting better, takes away that fear.

As I look back on the last few years of my life, the worst possible things have come true, and yet, not only have I survived, I have thrived. Though it didn't feel like it, I did. My relationship with the Lord grew, my respect for myself grew and my awareness of love, grace and humility tripled. I guess failing with blinding clarity will do that. I guess at some point, all you can do is look back and almost laugh. It is almost laughable. I mean seriously? I hate hearing people say what ever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. I think it's so trite, but now, looking back, I realize it did kill me and I'm glad it did.

I lost friends, lovers, jobs, respect, personal items, was cheated, made a fool, torn apart, made bad decisions, made good decisions, doubted, raged, loved, cried, and done it all with an almost manic flair. And all of it, all of it circled back around to one thing: no matter what, the God that rules the earth is my Savior. He loves me, thinks I am worth the world and is in no way shape or form worried about loving me.

As my heart has started to calm, as my thoughts have started to gather, as peace has started to settle deep within, bringing a more than superficial smile back to my tired face, I realize the very fears I battle with, no longer seem to have the same power they once did. The deep anxiety I had been holding somewhere between my stomach and chest is loosening. The mix of living in unpredictability is losing some of it's overwhelming unrest. There is so much I can't control, but so much I can. And maybe that is the real lesson. I don't have control over what happens, but I do have control over who I want to be, who I am and to whom I belong.

Maybe it's the trick of commitment. When I was in DC, for as brief a moment is was, I was blinded by how no geography was going to make everything okay. There was no place I was going to run that was going to solve my problems. I take with me all that makes me, me, where ever I am. The way I make decisions, the way I live, that doesn't change based on a different time zone. I wasn't going to find peace hiding in a different corner of the world. That, I was going to have to find in some corner of me. That was more intimidating than anything. It wasn't going to come from easy outside source. I was going to have to stop, turn around and face the hardest part of living: standing still. When I did that, I realized, even though I grew up somewhere, that doesn't mean I have to leave it to find what I want. I was going to have dig my heels in, put some roots down and fight for the life I want. I was going to have start making the decisions that effect tomorrow, today.

So I came home. And if you haven't noticed, when I make a decision, it's full guns blazing. I came home with a three-point plan and I was damn well going to put it into play. I was going to MAKE it happen and it was going to happen RIGHT NOW. I guess it doesn't take long to realize, not everything happens overnight. Sometimes the very things we want are the very things that take the qualities I struggle with: patience, quiet, lack of control and freedom. There is only so much I can do. Some things just take time.

So I find myself in the very place I have spent a lifetime avoiding: the in between. I'm waiting for everything. I'm waiting to hear about jobs, I'm waiting to start the community I want, I'm waiting for the opportunity to move forward in the right way. I'm waiting to see what is going to happen in so many ways, knowing in my heart, God has me right where He wants me. And in these moments of waiting, the miracle is in knowing He will provide everything necessary to live life the exact way He has called me to: joyfully and peacefully. Just because I'm waiting, doesn't mean I can't enjoy the ride. Miracles don't always look like circumstances changing, sometimes the miracle is in knowing joy is now a possibility. That's what His death and resurrection did. It made Joy and Peace an option and to me, in this place, that is a true miracle.

There are very few things I can control, but what I can control becomes the most important things. I have the ability to make my own choices. Aware of the risks, the pain that comes with the inevitability of life, knowing things will be hard, those choices are mine and how I conduct myself in them is the most important part. In Phil. 4:4-7, one of my favorite part is where it says "Rejoice in the Lord always.... Let your gentleness be known... the Lord is near.... Be anxious for nothing.... and the peace of God will guard your hearts..."

We pass over that part so easily. "Let your gentleness be known... the Lord is near" It struck me. What a vulnerable statement. What a promise. In the face of insecurity, I can let my gentleness be known and KNOW the Lord is near. I can stay exposed to the harshness of reality, remaining soft and open, being confident in the presence, the knowledge of God. He is near and He tells me to request of Him and His peace will guard the very gentle heart He says to let be known.

Whatever decisions I make, when I make them in confidence, when I make them in peace, when I know who I am and I let that be known, when I let my gentleness in peace be known, I can request of the Lord and know full well He is near, and will guard me. His peace will guard me.

I think about that a lot when I think of loving someone. How often do we seek to gain control over another to ensure their love? I know it's something I have struggled with. After failing about a million times, and it costing me dearly, I am beginning to see how this is meant to play out. I can control no one, but I know I can control me. I can decide to love someone, be it friend, relative, stranger or lover and feel the anxiety that comes with becoming vulnerable, allow that to be seen, then go to the Lord and ask for His peace to guard me... and it does. My heart and it's desires are far more important to Him than they are to me. His death and resurrection are proof of that, so why would He withhold His joy and peace from me as I seek to love the way He has told me? Insecurity starts to lose it's power when I look at life from this perspective. If I choose to do something, be it love, moving, or just doing my hair in a crazy way, when I do it in gentleness, in peace, in confidence, nothing else matters. He will guard my heart and I can stop worrying. Even when that love is rejected, or the move is hard, or the hair falls flat, there is no shame in who I am, what I am, and Who's I am. There is no regret in that. There is no fear in that. I have already lost greatly and survived, I am beginning to learn how to love in the face of fear, live in the face of failure and stand still in the midst of anxiety. So if those things are possible, what is there really to worry about? And if I can still be relaxing two weeks after the initial revelation, then the miracle of His resurrection is proved ever more.

I guess Frankie was right.

"Failed Drama"

All week I have struggled to put into words what I learned in two weeks of insanity. Actually, more like a year of insanity, but who's counting?

The best way I have come up with is: sometimes it's a long journey home. Sometimes we have to leave where we are, to know staying was always the right decision. Sometimes veering off the path is purposed to remind us, we were always heading in the right direction and sometimes making the wrong decision is the only way to find what the right one is.

In my mind, there was this dramatic moment happening. I was awakening again to a sense of purpose. Picture it, the wind picks up and swirls my hair as I look into the horizon, determination written on my face. I'm grimy and sweating, but somehow it looks dignified, as it only can in the movies. I take a step forward, look over the edge of the cliff, the deep chasm that spreads between myself and the endless possibilities. The music starts melancholy and foreboding. Worry creases my face while I hesitate, but only for a moment. The wind continues to whip by me as I walk away from the edge, then turn and face it. The music swells and builds with the intensity of the moment. Suddenly I let out a battle cry and starting running full speed knowing I can reach that other side. I fling myself off at the last second, the orchestra in full crescendo. I disappear for a moment and immediately a hush falls. The seconds tick by as the picture stays quiet, only the sound of the wind still moving.

Then, as if a miracle, my hand shoots up! The music peaks at a gloriously victorious note, while continue to struggle and climb up on the other side. "I made it! I made it! I did it!" My smile is wider than the heavens as I break into a moment of pure joy. Then, out of no where, I hear the odd squawk of a bullhorn being used: "Uh, Sara?" What the... I hear a slightly apologetic, yet, embarrassed voice calling my name through the horn.

"Yeah, hey, Sara? You jumped the wrong divide. We're... uh, We're over here. On this side." I turn and look over my shoulder while still on the ground. I see three men standing on cliff with a different horizon. "Oh crrraaaap. Not again."

"Yep. Looks like it. You made the 'leap' again, it was just once again, in the wrong direction. Hey good news though! This time it will only cost you two weeks and around $1,000.00." says the gentlemen wielding the bullhorn. He turns to His companions, "You're definitely learning! Right guys?" A mumble chorus of "Oh yeah's!" and "For sure's!" follow. "Don't worry though, We'll get you right back on track. Okay people, that's a wrap for today! Scene Sara Angella 'Failed drama' will pick back up tomorrow. Good work today everyone, especially the guys on the wind! That was great effect. We'll try that again. Have a great night all!"

Somewhere in the spiritual realm, they are spinning the spools of film that show my most recent epic failure. I laugh as I imagine them saying something like, "She's got a flare for drama for sure. She got that from You HS. Maybe next time we should try and warn her. No, you're right, she still probably wouldn't listen. But sure is entertaining watching her get all wound up like that."

In my mind, everything is drama, in the real world, it's usually just the perfect risk, for the wrong thing. Taking a leap is never wrong, even if it ends badly, if only because, we learned that landing, isn't always so bad.

Nothing is EVER as it seems.

Thanks for the effort guys.

Capital Dome

Friends, acquaintances, readers, family, lovers, whoever you are, I can't wait for you to be apart of what has occurred in my life.

For months, I have spiraled, suffered, fretted, spent hours drowning in my own makeshift craft of sadness, waiting, pleading, begging God to do something. I ranted, raved, pounded, cried, did everything I could, then gave up. I doubted, I raged, I questioned, mourned and worried about everything and anything I could, especially the Lord. And faithful ones, you waited with me. You read, cried, argued and struggled with me. Whether it was through word, comment or presence, you were apart of a journey and though it has not ended, the newest chapter has been revealed and I could not leave you out of my joy.

That's right, my joy.

I walked back to a friends house tonight, listening to worship music, fairly walking on air, smiling from ear to ear, laughing at the wind, smiling and giggling like the school girls I passed. I was drunk on joy and hope in a way I hadn't felt in years. I cried, and for the first time in so long, it was out of joy.

How can I explain in a few short paragraphs (although I am NEVER short in word), what God has done? How can I explain a miracle? I guess I'll try. As I write this, I laugh and cry once as I hear the words to my favorite song play over and over: All my hopes in You. My strength, my song... over and over it plays just like that. Perfect. Perfect.

I stood in front of the Capital tonight, cherry blossoms intoxicating, the humid air clinging to my hair, frizzing it to no end. My feet hurt from the walking and my coat was itchy around my neck, a slight perspiration from the humidity forming around my neck. No one was around me, most were in Chinatown, Adams Morgan, Downtown, Cap Hill or H Street, passing the night in bars and clubs, seen and being seen. I, however, had been pulled like a magnet toward the most powerful place in the world. I stared, mesmerized by the splendor of the dome, lit up like a Christmas tree in the middle of the dead of night. Taller than any other building around it, it stands stark against the night sky, as though it knows the secrets it keeps, flaunting the power, the prestige. I felt the power, the magnitude of the fame and fortune that walked in and out of the steps at any given point. The history, the presence and the gleeful inspiration tugged at my heart seducing my thoughts into a moment of delightful inspiration, wondering what I could do, knowing, if I truly wanted them, I could hold the keys to the kingdom. Not in arrogance, but purely in awareness, there is a part of me that knows, it knows that if I wanted to, I could harness the talents, the knowledge and the good ol' fashion legwork and I could climb, scrape and scratch my way to the top. I could smile, wink, shrug and charm my way into the highest of heights. Thoughts swirl and sway me, as though I have been in the desert for 40 days and bread is being offered, I am tempted to eat and be satisfied, to partake and engineer, to structure, plan and manipulate whatever is necessary. The light of the dome seems so powerful against such a black backdrop and I could be apart of it... And it's tempting....

But then I wake up. Something shakes me from my reverie and I look around me. The fountain's noise brings me back to a solid reality. I look to my left and I see the bend that would lead to 2nd and G. Ebenezer's. It's the home of National Community Church. A beautiful place, full of beautiful people, seeing God's beautiful miracles. When I was lost, hurting, scared and restless, I sought something of truth and found it there. It was a home away from home. It is full of the peace of the Holy Spirit and I just I felt the provocative sense of power, I felt an equally powerful sense of peace, place and joy there. I felt Him there and all of the sudden I knew. I knew what had been forming in me for years, months, and now had come to a climactic end in a few weeks.

I loved the purpose of being apart of something bigger than me, but I hated the politics. I loved feeling as though what I was doing was meaningful, but I hated feeling as though it meant nothing in the end. I loved feeling as though I was making a difference, but I didn't like what the difference was.

My heart is full, my spirit hopeful, my life peaceful when I stop searching and start living, not in any kingdom, but in His Kingdom. I can't always explain it, but what I seek, the passion I have, it never means anything unless it is spinning, surging, pushing and aspiring within the only framework that matters: His.

I love excitement. I love thinking, I love being, driving, pushing, starting, searching, hoping, working, creating, encouraging, desiring and loving, but only when it matters for the things that matter and to me, what matters is Jesus. I sat staring at the building that houses some of the most powerful people in the world and all I could think about was taking what I seen and learned back to a little church with little people, with big vision. No Congressman, Senator, President or Speaker could touch the power of a God that could take me from despair to excitement in the space of 13 days. They could pass laws, enact treaties, decide on a budget, but what really shakes my world is a God that can meet me anywhere anytime and change my mind. You can change my taxes, but you can't change my heart. Only a truly powerful God can do that. Screw your earmarks, I want miracles. No turning back, I've made up my mind, I'm giving all of my life this time.

But it all had to be put to rest. I had to come back here. I had to face this place, this time in my life, I had to have everything redefined. This demon had to be slayed. I had to know I had made a decision and it was good. I needed to own it. I needed to say goodbye. Unfinished business does not sit well with me. It never has and it never will. Luckily, I serve a God that leaves nothing unfinished, no question unanswered.

I loved DC. It awaked me. It gave me vision, it gave me the ability to believe in more than just a simple life, what I didn't know until now is those things follow me. No life is simple unless we simplify it. No vision has to be small unless we narrow it. I go back to CA not to a simple quiet life, but instead to an excitement of what God wants to do. I go with the same feeling, watching an ink black sky frame a dome, as I do when I walk into the warehouse that holds my church family. The power of God, the blessings of His miracles, they know no geographical boundaries, they are only bound by what we contain them in.

So I ran the opposite direction. Or maybe I skipped, I can't remember, but I can remember worshipping, smiling, laughing and crying with joy as I felt the inspiration, the peace, the excitement.... the hope. I was set free. The past was the past. As good and bad as it has been, it has shaped, formed and scarred me as purposed. I take with me the crazy desire for the horizon He first placed in me when I arrived here back to CA. It just settled into a rock solid purpose. It hardened and gelled without me realizing into wanting to see the power of God come to my home, my valley, my church. My stubbornness now has a place it can grow, express and formulate itself and I am so excited.

I get all the vision of DC without the politics. And for once, the old Sara, the real Sara, the true one, the one I know and love is coming back out. The passion, the joy, the confidence, it was all there, it was just being shaped, ripped and reformed. Now it knows where it belongs. Now I have the confidence in my decision, my place. Now I can root, place, settle and grow. I had been so restless for so long, wondering where I belonged and finally, with a peace that surpasses understanding, I am ready. I am more than ready to go and capture the vision Jesus has for home.

Praise You! You crazy, ruthless, brilliant, insatiable, creative, loving, hopefully practical Jesus!!!! How good you are to this arrogant, hopeless mess. My heart is bent to Your powerful love and care. You have broken me to heal me, You have rendered me to restore me and You have scarred me to remind me. I carry You in my heart, Lover. You are my reason, my life, my peace and comfort. I dedicate me to You in the craziness of it all. In awareness of how illogical this all is, You are my logic, where I finally have found the place where I belong: in You. Let's go home. I love You.

Frankie Says "Relax"

I need to relax. No, seriously, I need to relax. I need to learn how to let go. Why does everything with me need to be so damn HUGE all of the time? When did I forget to stop and just not care?

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about being "aware' but I think somewhere along the way, I mixed up being aware with being obsessed. When did I stop being fun-loving Sara and start being high strung Sara, and why? Wait a minute, wait a minute... see, it's seductive, that over-analysis. I almost did it again.

I'm going to turn my A-Personality type into a B personality type by using all the energy and drive of the A personality to learn how to freakin chill. That's right, I'm going to mind-eff myself. It's going to be the catch-22 of a lifetime. Over the last few years, somehow every little thing has starting to mean everything. Every decision, every move, everyone else's decisions, everyone else's moves; there was always some hidden meaning or agenda. It could never just be because. I stopped being able to go get beers to just chill and not have to say anything, or when I do talk to people, not talk about something serious all the time. I have completely forgotten how to have a conversation that didn't have to do with something deep and meaningful. I've over inundated myself with analysis and second guessing to the point where I can barely move. I'm basically no fun at all. I feel bad for those I have subjected myself to. You are faithful friends.

See this is why I can never work in politics. Because in politics, there actually ARE hidden meanings in everything.

I have no balance, no compass for when things should be serious and when they should be just fun. I have a very limited ability to "shelf" things and just ride it out. Which is ironic, since when I left my ex husband, I did that exceedingly well for 6 months. And then again when I was living at home after I moved back from So Cal. What happened? Oh well, I guess that question is sort of pointless.

I've been so obsessed with my own ability to be "deep" or "authentic" I let arrogance cloud the fact that I was hamstringing my own life. There is no point to being deep if you can not enjoy your life. Then you become some obscure French philosopher that dies of an overdose of heroine. If I can't put aside the stressors, the difficulties and enjoy the moments I have, if I am always second guessing, stressing and fretting over the next step, the next moment, the next heartbreak, I'm going to sabotage the ability for me to enjoy now.

It's not easy though, I feel the anxiety build even as I say this. I used to be able to let go and know things would turn out, now I fear every what if. I do wonder though, if only to escape back into old habit patterns for a moment, am I really fearful because of the pain, or am I fearful I won't be able to handle it? Am I fearful of the messages the awful situations I am avoiding send me and others?

Case in point: moving home. I know, I know, we've been over this. Hear me out though. Am I really scared of the reality of going home and having to resort to something like waitressing, or bartending, or going back into retail because they really are that bad? Or am i just afraid that I've failed somehow? Or worse yet, that others will see me as a failure?

The point is, if I'm okay with something, if I'm not worried about me or my ability to live, keep moving and keep trying, then what am I really afraid of? What is it the most that drives me to have to justify every thought, understand everyone else, or even care? So what? If I know who I am, and am comfortable with that, what else matters?

In Micah it says, "What does God require of man but to act kindly, do justice and walk humbly with your God?" That's a pretty simple formula. What else matters? Love your God, love others, let the rest worry about the rest. So what if someone doesn't want to be friends or a lover leaves? I mean I know those things hurt, but are they really about me, or are they really just the circumstances of life colliding with unneeded insecurity? Does every thing have to really mean everything? If things don't work out at home, if my ex never wants to talk to me again... again, if my friends all desert me, if I end up poor and on the streets, if I gain back every pound and become a fat cat lady... okay that's really depressing... point being, if everything turns out to the absolute worst it could... so what? My life would still have all the value in the world, my home in heaven would still be there waiting, my cloud of witnesses would still be cheering on and the cross would still be complete. And besides all of that, which is amazing enough, whatever stays the same? So what if it all happens? Is it doomed to stay that way? Or since everything has the chance to change for the worse, doesn't it also have the chance to change for the better?

Maybe the important thing isn't what happens; it's that I don't fear what could happen. Maybe it's about not worrying so much, and living more. Maybe it's about taking the time to enjoy what I do have. I may not be miss popularity, but I have some friends that I know are solid, beautiful, encouraging people I would give my left arm for. I may not have the leave it to Beaver family, but I do have a mother who adores me, a father who still calls me his little girl, a sister that I actually enjoy spending time with and love, and a brother that is one of my favorite people in the world. I may not have the dream job, but I know I'll pull through and my relationship (or un-relationship) with the man I love may be a little harder than before right now, but I still enjoy him. I still get to know what it feels like to love, however hard it may be at times. There is so much good in my life, but if I forget about it, if I let the possibility of bad cloud the rays of joy, I'll never be satisfied, or peaceful, or happy. I'll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then it will. And I will have missed what was happening right in front of me the whole time.

This will not be an easy journey. Basically I have to learn how to tone down all of my emotions, sort of like watching Spanish soap-operas mute. You know what they are feeling, but you juuuuuussst can't hear it. To be honest, I have no idea how to do this. I have no idea how to just chill, but I know I want to learn. I know I don't want to keep spinning my wheels getting stuck in the muck and mire of the disappointments and insecurities and what if's. That's going to be so hard to do. It's completely against the grain and nature of what I have been doing, well basically since I was born, but somehow, I know God wants to teach me. I mean it's basically trust, right? It's the principle that He is God, I am not, and all I can do is act kindly, do justice and walk humbly with Him. The rest is up to Him. For now though, I plan on using every available source to help me with this process. I'm going to find a counselor again (or "life-coach" as it is apparently now called), I'm going to get back into ministry and focus on people worse off than me. I'm going to find a job I actually like, pay some bills, shop with my sister, get my toes done with my mom, get coffee with friends, eat too much food, brew beer with my brother, watch House and Glee religiously, find excuses to wear my fabulous shoes, bitch about my cat's fur, maybe find a bowling league to join, worship every chance I get, obsess about my calories, read too many books on theology, probably get another tattoo and remember to stop caring about every last little thing, and instead, love every last little minute