Someday May Never Come

My relationship with my mom has always been a bumpy one. 

From a young age, I have been sassy. It is just in my inner- being. I like to think of it as having a little Sasha Fierce in my blood. My mom is never embarrassed to bring up the fact that the first time I slammed a bedroom door was at the age of two. They thought it was cute at the time. 

However, it got not so cute when I was in elementary school-- when I would taunt my mom and dad with my attitude, feeling accomplished by fueling their rage. 

I was raised in a military household where respect was a core principal which was always taught, however I lacked upholding it to the people who mattered the most—the ones who brought me into the world. 

As I got older, my attitude and behavior declined even more. 

I became the typical middle school girl who “hated” her mother, and I made it quite clear. Anything that my mom wanted from me, I did the opposite. We got in screaming battles almost daily, and I created our home to be a battle ground. I would wake up, fight, go to school, come home, and fight some more. This was our pattern until I moved out for college.

Constantly growing up, I said words to my mom that I would not wish upon my worst enemy. I knew the words which cut the deepest. Also, on multiple occasions during screaming matches, I pushed my mom; the last time I did it, she called the police. Through all of this, I knew how to put up a facade and how to behave when people where around. I would complain to all of my friends about how “psycho and controlling” my mom was, when really I was the one with the behavior problems. 

Going away to college mended a lot of our problems. I learned how to see her point-of-views, and learned how to better vocalize mine. When I am at school I am able to talk to my mother, and see her eye to eye on most things. However coming back for the summers and long breaks are still hard. I have to adjust from being in my own college world, to being in a family environment. 

So far I have been home for three weeks, and I cannot count how many times my mom and I have gotten into arguments. Although the arguments are much more civil than the ones which we had in previous years—they still bring up pain, they still bring a dark side of both of us. 

I keep telling myself that someday every facet of my relationship with my mom will be something I am proud of. Someday I will stop saying words which I wouldn’t say to anyone else to her. Someday we will get along, even on the hardest days. Someday this fighting will end. 

But what if someday never comes? I mean, what if today is the last day for one of us? 

There will be so many unsaid apologizes. So many statements which I wish said. So many missed I love you’s. 

So for the today—Mom, I am sorry that I can be so disrespectful at times-- I just want peace. I am exhausted from the arguing. I love you.  

Roar

My best friend since high school has attempted to commit suicide twice this year.

She is one of the only people in this world that I would take a bullet for, and it shatters my heart that she would take a bullet from herself.

It has been two weeks since she was admitted from the hospital for her last attempt. I cannot begin to write the feeling that I have felt walking through this with her—the pain, the disbelief, the guilt, the sorrow, the rage. 

I have felt so much, for so long—but this past week the healing has finally started.

It started when I was going through one of my old notebooks, and found a journal entry that I wrote in high school when I was in one of my deepest depressions.

“Everyday I feel like my life just cannot get any worse, yet somehow it always finds a way to go down that path… I hate my life. I am hopeless. I look into the mirror, and I hate what I see; why would anyone want what they see? I don’t even think my parents, or closest friends really want me around; I am just a girl who is there to be used. I want to die—yet I am afraid of death. No one has any idea I am this alone and depressed…”

It has been so long since I remember these feelings.

This weekend during my RA retreat, my RD challenged us to listen close for the Lord’s voice. She had us pursue this in the form of an activity, where we had to ask Jesus what animal we were. At first when she was telling us about it, I was very skeptical. But then I decided to really concentrate on Him and listen to something bigger—I experienced something that could never have ever come from myself.

I had a vision of a lion with a powerful roar. After praying on this image, I heard that I am a lion in His kingdom. I heard that I have a voice that is powerful. I heard that I am going to capture people in His name. After that I saw an image of my best friends name over and over and over again.

Right after that I went to write this experience down in my notebook, and my journal entry fell out of my notebook.

I went from not believing that God could intervene in her life, to weeping in joy overwhelmed in faith.

When I put myself into my best friend’s shoes, I remember exactly what she is feeling. I know the loneliness. I know the pain. I know the longing for an answer.

After much searching I found the answer, and it changed my life. Jesus is the only answer. When I finally truly found Him, He took away my loneliness and pain—and exchanged it for abundant joy and freedom.

His love is sufficient for me. And I believe that it is for her too.

I know that there is a reason that she is still alive. Jesus has so much planned for her. I have faith that she is going to find Him. I have faith that her pain is going to be taken away. I have faith that He is going to do incredible things through her.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

I am constantly underestimating my value. Not only do I settle for far less than I deserve, but I also push good things away—because I believe that I am not good enough for them. 

This week I was taken on two dates (there must have been something in the water, I never go on dates). 

My first date that I was taken on was with a boy who is the epitome of a gentleman. Never have I been out with someone who genuinely cared so much. When he first asked me out in person, he told me that it would be an honor to go on a date with me. On meeting up, I noticed that he was more dressed up than I had seen him in the past. He did not have a car, and instead of borrowing a friends—he got a driver to drive us to our restaurant (yeah, I was impressed too). When we got to the restaurant, he was genuinely interested in getting to know every aspect of my life. Before we ate, he prayed over our food. We then proceeded to enjoy an amazing dinner, full of great conversation. At the end, he paid the bill—even though I offered to split the check. Afterward, we went across the street to Churn and shared a bowl of ice cream. Driving home, again we enjoyed amazing conversation, and asked to see me again. When we got back to the dorm, he walked me to the door, hugged me, thanked me for such a fun time and we parted ways. Throughout the entire date he was more respectful towards me than I have ever been treated. Never has a boy taken me out on such a nice date, or not made me feel obligated to “reward” him for taking me out. 

However, when all of my friends asked how the date went—I told them he was too nice for me. When I got back to my dorm, I saw that he had posted on Facebook, “I'm not sure what's better than a great night with a great girl eating great food and great ice cream”. After seeing the post, I felt sick to my stomach and doubted that I could really be that great. I also told myself that the second date would not be happening.

The next day I went on my second date. This boy had been texting me all semester and was very verbal about how much he liked my appearance.  As I was at work earlier in the day, he texted me asking if he could come over and see me—I told him absolutely, even though I knew many of his intentions were not pure. He drove to campus where we met, and then we walked to my dorm together. As we walked to my room, we made small talk, and deep down I knew that he was expecting something from our hangout session. We got to my room, and began watching Harry Potter while cuddling on my giant lovesack. We got about 1/3 done, and decided to take a walk—when we got outside he held my hand and I began getting butterfly’s (a cute boy was holding my hand). He then asked where I wanted to go, and I told him on an adventure. We then went to his car (where he was still pretty touchy), and soon enough arrived at a park. We got out of his car and it was pretty chilly outside—so we began cuddling pretty close… and soon enough we were making out. We stayed at the park for about an hour being physical, then he drove me home, dropped me off at the curb, kissed me, and said he wanted to do this again soon. 

Walking inside the dorm, I vocalized to all my friends that I had a big fat crush on him-- however was a bit embarrassed to tell them exactly what we did. I wanted to see him again, and of course I wanted to be his girlfriend.  However the next day, I learned that is not exactly how he felt. On texting him, he made it quite clear that he just wanting someone to mess around with on the side. And being dumb, I told myself that is what I deserved. 

Boy number one cared about me. Boy number two wanted to get in my pants. I pushed boy number one away, while I pulled boy number two closer. 

I realized tonight that although I have learned so much about my identity this year-- I am still looking in many of the wrong places for attention and love. I don’t allow myself to get close to good guys like boy number one, out of fear of rejection; instead I often compromise my integrity and standards for boys like boy number two, who frankly do not give a rat’s ass about my value. 

I pray that I can be constantly aware of what I truly deserve. I pray that my fear of love will be erased. I pray that not only will men who come into my life know my value-- but that I will walk so confidently in knowing who I belong to, that it will radiate from every ounce of my being. I pray that I comprehend fully that I am truly fearfully and wonderfully made.