National Best Friends Day

I had a best friend growing up. At the age of 3, I found my person. Who gets to say that, really? I had a best friend for my entire childhood, and into my teen years. A good majority of my childhood memories involve her. Sleep overs where we struggled to stay awake until the paper boy dropped off the paper. Giggling and gossiping at Oakdale Park. Millions of conversations about the big things and the tiny, meaningless things. All those moments that are woven into the tapestry of that bond you hold with your best friend.

And then the end of our junior year of high school. My friend met a guy. Not a boy, because he was well into adulthood. And my friend started doing drugs. And then. One day September of our senior year, I called her house. And her mom didn't know where she was or when/if she would be back. I remember so clearly that feeling of disbelief and numbness. We had drifted apart to some degree over the last few months because of her relationship, both with that man and drugs. But still I had a best friend. Until that day in September, when it became apparent that I did not.

It really gutted me. I can remember going to my youth pastor to talk and just crying and crying. He really gave great tools to cope, but a loss is still a loss. Grief is still a journey, and it's an even rougher journey when you are 17. Time was really the greatest factor in my healing. I did see my friend from time to time but the bond of that best friendship was broken. We kept in touch intermittently through the coming years, but she was still on a path that was not one I could travel with her. Even after I got married we still kept in touch occasionally. But when I got pregnant, I cut the contact completely. The nostalgia of our childhood friendship had convinced me to return her calls and hang out with her from time to time. But her lifestyle was not one that I would allow around my children. And by then, the sting of the original loss at 17 had faded.

I've wondered over the years if you only get one shot at a best friend, and I used up my opportunity at age 3. Simplistic, but truly, I did wonder it. I've had close friends since her. A college roommate. A coworker. And then semi-close friends that I chat with and hang with from time to time. But that deep, bare your soul, best friendship? I just thought my time was up. And perhaps that hard wall that I've put up to avoid being ignored and left out kept out the opportunity for another best friendship? Perhaps.

And then. New friends. Invitations to hang out. A Facebook messenger chat where I had not one, but two best friends to bare my soul and to see their true selves in return. Talk of tribe and making your own family and forever friendships. And oh my softening heart. I went ahead and allowed my heart to soften, and in the process heal. Heal from the hurt that I had suffered at the hands of people in church. Hurt from never being enough to people. Never being remembered. Here were my people. They wanted me. They would never leave me out.

But things change. Forever is a very strong word to use, and I think that maybe it should not be used in context of friendships. Because sometime in the shift from summer to fall, something broke. Something changed. And we tried to patch it, but the dam broke again. Another reprieve, and then another shift. And my heart said, no more. But this time was different. Different from my childhood best friend. Different from the first break between two of the three friends. This time, I walked away. I knew it was the best thing for me, but that didn't make the pain any less.

I said that grief is even harder when you are 17 and trying to navigate it, but I don't know that it is any easier to do at 33. As someone who likes to charge towards my goal, the two steps forward one step back nature of grief is hard for me to swallow. I know the things that trigger my pain, and I avoid them now. I've stopped touching the wound, but I can't prevent the unknown triggers from ripping the scab off.

Today I celebrate National Best Friends Day without a best friend. I've got friends. Some great friends to hang with and laugh with. A handful of people that I know will be there for me in a heartbeat. And two that will pick me up when I fall, and hold me as a cry. But no best friend. And in light of how recently I lost what I thought were forever friendships, it is hard. What is today really? A holiday made up by who? Facebook? The greeting card industry? Who knows. Either way, my feelings are real and valid. And tomorrow will be a new day to work on the healing process. I may be frustrated with the process, and the slowness, but I will heal. I look back on my childhood best friend and how now that loss is just a small scar. It's a part of my makeup but it no longer defines me. Some day, the events of this last year will just be a small scar and a tiny part of who I am, instead of something that defines me so much. The pain already defines me less than it did 6 weeks ago. And so continues to journey. We can't hide from pain. I have great memories from the last two years. But I can't let the pain define who I am. I'm learning how to spend a moment in my grief, and then move on. So here's to the process.

Body positivity

Having a positive body image is something that I have struggled with since age eleven. Eleven years old. As the mother of two young girls, that horrifies me. I don't want that for my daughters. I want them to love their bodies, to see their bodies as strong and capable and beautiful. Something that has taken me 33 years to do. Hopefully I will do things "right" and they will find body positivity a lot sooner than I did.

Right before I got pregnant with Ava, I lost a lot of weight. I weighed a little less than I did on my wedding day. I look back on pictures from that summer and think how thin I looked. And I distinctly remember back during those days thinking I had 5-10 lbs more to lose. Well, instead I got pregnant, gained 35 pounds, and lost 12 of it once I had Ava. In fact, this last winter I went on to gain 18 more pounds. At the beginning of 2016, I decided I needed to make some changes. I've lost 8 of those 10 lbs, and I started lifting. So yes, I am overweight. Yes, there are lumps and bumps and ripples where there weren't in the past, but I can also see muscles starting to show up under that fat. And honestly, I'm too busy raising my girls to care very much. I've got a haircut I love, and I think I've gotten pretty skilled with makeup. More days than not, I think I look quite alright.

Today when I put on my swimsuit, Raegan came in the room and told me how pretty it was. Then she asked me why there was those fat parts, and pointed to my love handles. Once upon a time, that would have gutted me. I would have gotten upset. I would have told her that it's not okay to call people fat. But today, it didn't bother me. It truly did not bother me. I asked her what was wrong with having fat parts. I told her that's how God made my body and that I had two babies and that stretches your stomach out.

My hope is that the girls will learn that all body types are okay. That life should be enjoyed no matter what you look like or how you are shaped. Today at the pool I spared not a single thought to any fat parts that I have.  I was too busy enjoying a fun time with my daughters and making sure I didn't lose them. Keeping an eye on my toddler that is prone to running away was a lot higher on my list than keeping my stomach sucked in. I would have never thought I would get to this point. Eleven year old me would have been horrified. But oh, is life so much sweeter without that constant voice in my head.

So all my lumps and fat parts will be at the pool, along with the muscles that I'm starting to build. Maybe I'll lose the ten pounds I want to. Maybe I won't. But my worth as a mom and a person does not depend on those ten pounds. It took me 33 years to get to that point, but at least I made it. Time to enjoy it.

A Prayer for My Oldest

Today while I was doing Raegan's hair, she looked at herself in the mirror and said, "I like the way this feels right now. I have lots of friends at school, and I like this (waves hand in the air)." A six year old's way of saying that she is happy with life. It made me smile. How it made my heart swell for you, Raegan.

Oh my sweet girl. How I would love to pray that you will always feel this way, but I know that would be a foolish and pointless prayer. Because life can be grand, and you can like the way it feels. But it can also be messy and unpredictable and just plain awful. So here is my prayer for you:

I pray that you will find happiness in life. This has always been my greatest prayer for you. But a part of that prayer is that you won't let other people dictate your happiness. I am glad you are building friendships, and I hope that you find true, lasting friendships - the give and take kind of friendships that can withstand the storms of life. But most of all, I hope that you grow into a strong, confident woman that doesn't need friends to define her. That you can rise above the insecurities that have always plagued me, and realize that you are enough. With or without friends. With or without a man. That who you are is amazing, and brilliant and so very, very enough.

I pray that no matter what life throws at you, you will find the silver lining and hold on to hope. That no matter how dark everything seems, no matter how hard it feels, you will keep your chin up. I pray that you will always see God's hand in your life, no matter how messy and messed up everything feels. I pray that you will have the courage to close doors that need to be closed, and open doors that you really should walk through. When you were jumping around on rocks at Rock City last Sunday, you told me you were brave, and you thought you would always be brave. I pray that you are right, my girl. I pray that you will be brave and take a leap of faith, no matter what life throws at you.

Life won't always feel like this, and that's okay. You just have to find a way to see the good in all of the messes and mistakes and heartache. Hold onto hope, Raegan. Hold onto that braveness and confidence that you have now. You are going to be something amazing.  

Identity

I come across a lot of inspirational memes on Pinterest. When you pin enough of a certain type of thing, you start to get more of it on your Pinterest feed. So I see a lot of pins about letting go, silence, and being broken and alone. And some of them have really helped me as I figure out who I am, alone and separate from the relationships that were once such a huge part of my identity. Sometimes Bible verses show up in my feed, and they send me to Scripture, where God speaks to me over and over. And sometimes I come across little phrases or quotes. Not by anyone famous, but just a brief sentence that gives me peace. The quote above really spoke to my heart. It was what I needed on that exact day I found it. A little nudge to keep going.

My choice to step back from relationships that were causing me so much pain has never really been about those friends. It's been about me. There was never a defining moment where they did something that cause me to say enough. There was a defining moment when I said, "This is not what I want for my life." This relationship has been a source of pain for me since last fall. Why do I clutch so tightly to something that hurts me so much? I've been trying to fit myself into the confines of the relationship, and making myself miserable in the process. I think that part of my healing in all of this is realizing that I have value. I may not be of value to the people I wish saw me that way, but that doesn't diminish my worth. The right friendship doesn't make you cry. Doesn't make you feel left out or lonely or unwanted. I cannot make them give me the friendship I desire, no more than I can make myself into someone they will see as important enough to give their time to. Nor should I make myself into someone that I am not.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made in God's image. I am imperfect, yet pretty awesome. I am who I am. I can be alone and be happy. There is strength in my decision to cut myself loose and find out who I am. And if I say it enough times, I will believe it someday.

Unintentional Wounds

There are people in everyone's lives who hurt them. We all have had a relationship with someone where they have willfully hurt us. For whatever reason, they lash out at you and it cuts you to your core and you hurt. It's intentional. It's painful. You bleed.

But I think there is something even more painful than those intentional wounds inflicted on us. I think the wounds that loved ones don't mean to inflict on us hurt us even more. When that person isn't trying to hurt you. When that person actually has no clue that they have caused you pain. But who they are and who you are just aren't meshing, and it hurts. It's unintentional, but nevertheless. It's painful. You bleed.

I've been in a friendship where I've been purposefully hurt. Where that person said words designed to hurt me and intentionally turned away from me. And I thought that hurt more than anything I had went through at that point in my life. I thought that was pain. But it turns out, the unintentional moments hurt a thousand times more. Because I'm going through that right now. Careless, thoughtless actions, not designed to hurt me. But they do. Actions that a thousand times over say, "You aren't actually important to me." And the part that is cutting me to the quick is that they say they love me. They say they care. And maybe it's just me. Maybe there's something so broken in me that I always perceive people hurting me. But my perception is that my presence is not actually that important. I would be a part of planning things if I were an equal in the relationship. I would be at the top of the list instead of a last minute invite. I would always be asked to join in, instead of occasionally being an afterthought.

I believe this person when they say they love me. But I guess it's not the kind of love I'm looking for. I don't want a friendship where I feel like a third wheel. I don't want a friendship where I feel unnecessary. So I have chosen to bow out. Quietly letting this thing that was once such a big part of my life die. There is no purpose to confrontation. Who they are won't change. Who I am won't change. I think I was the square peg that we all tried to jam into a round hole for too long. I think I've settled for too long. The day that I realized that settling was making me miserable was the day I decided to bow out.

Right now, it hurts. Oh, does it hurt. Figuring out who I am without people that were such an integral part of my life hurts. But it's a different kind of hurt. I would rather be alone, then feel alone in a group of people that are supposed to be my friends.

I've been thinking about this Robin Williams quote a lot lately. I think this hurt will eventually serve a purpose. I think I'll be happier than I was before. But for now, it's painful. I'm bleeding.

Time to Choose Joy

Feeling as if I do not matter to most people has been a constant theme in my life. A million times over I've been shown that my presence, or my absence, does not matter to people. I'm the person that leaves a job of nine years with no card, no goodbye party, nothing. I'm the person whose 30th birthday passes with most of the world being unaware that it happened. Actually, most birthdays pass that way. I'm not missed at church. I'm not thanked for extra effort on projects, or even for projects that I put my heart and soul into. I don't say this as a "feel sorry for me" post. Every single one of these events has happened. And they're just a part of who I am.

Most of the time I'm fine. I mean, this is not new. This has been a reoccurring theme since high school. Maybe it's because I'm quiet. Maybe it's because I don't draw attention to myself. Maybe I surround myself with the wrong friends. I would say that logically, it's probably a combination of all of the above.

But some days, enough instances build up and it all just crashes down on me. I start looking at myself. That nasty, cruel little whisper starts up in my head. What's so wrong with me that I'm no one's first choice? What is it about my personality that is so undesirable to people? Why doesn't anyone want me around? And on, and on, and on. I go down the rabbit hole, and I cannot find my way out.

I've been in this dark place for the last month. And this time, no matter how much I fight back, I cannot stop the voices from whispering. I cannot find the joy in life. No matter how many times I tell myself that I matter to my daughters, that I matter to God, I just can't say it loud enough to drown out those voices. They don't whisper anymore. They scream. And I cannot hear anything but those screams. I want to. I try to tell myself different. But I just cannot make my voice heard.

And then yesterday, I finally heard something above that constant cruel voice talking about my worthlessness. It wasn't my own voice that finally broke through. It was the parent of one of my students. I went with this family to kindergarten round up. I kept their student entertained and happy while they listened to the information for next year. It wasn't a big deal. Or I didn't think so. But yesterday while I was talking to the mom, she told me, in a wobbly voice, how very grateful she was. How much it meant to them.

And I realized. I do matter. I do have a purpose. I do make a difference. People do care about my presence. It may not be the people that I wish cared. But why am I letting my self-worth be determined by certain people? I am not this person that no one cares about. I am making a difference in at least one life. And that's enough. I am enough to someone.

I'm done fighting for relationships that are hurting me. I just have to be. If I let my self-worth get so wrapped up in those relationships, and all I do is get hurt over and over, then those are not healthy relationships. It's time for me to be well. The last couple months have been painful and hard and dark. And I want to be done with those feelings. I want to choose joy. I want to choose happiness. Even if it's not the relationships and the happiness that I wanted. Life looks different than how I thought it would, but that doesn't mean it's bad.

Time to choose joy.

Some Days

Some days life is good. Things go smoothly. Work is easy. My oldest daughter is at peace with herself and the world. My husband and I connect and compromise. My house stays relatively clean. I have a good conversation with a close friend. Life is good.

Some days life is amazing. I laugh and play with my daughters. A student at school masters a new skill and strikes out to do something new and amazing. I share my heart with a friend and she shares back. I laugh and I live and I love. Life is amazing.

Some days life just is. Events are neither good nor bad. Neither easy nor hard. I just exist through the day - no noticeable happiness, but no struggles either. This may sound boring. This may sound like a negative thing. But it's not. If I can't find happiness on any day, I long for the mundane bland days. I like when life just is.

Some days life is hard. From the moment my feet hit the floor, it's one struggle after another. My daughters struggle through our morning routine. Their tears feel like an outward expression of my heart in those moments. I wish I could lay down on the floor and cry too. My students at work are out of sorts. Their entire school day is a struggle to get from point A to point B, and we never quite connect and figure it out. My husband and I struggle to compromise and see each other's perspective. My day feels full and I feel that I never stop. Life is hard.

And some days life is unbearable. Usually these days follow right behind the hard days. If life is hard for enough days, even if the hard moments are all small and inconsequential, then life becomes unbearable. My demons start to whisper to me. Remind me of the pain in my heart right now. I yelled at my oldest daughter. I spent an extra fifteen minutes outside at recess but I couldn't get my students centered enough to do small groups. Supper involved macaroni and cheese. My living room floor is a landmine. My laundry is nowhere close to being caught up. And my demons whisper - "You couldn't make it through this day without falling apart. No wonder no one seems to care about your presence or absence. No wonder you and your husband fight. You are not enough for anyone." Life is unbearable.

Right now, there are a lot of unbearable days. There are a lot of good and just is days, but there are an equal number of unbearable days. I haven't been in this place for many years. Where the effort to throw my blankets off of me and get out of bed in the morning feels like too much. Where I cannot, cannot, cannot see what God sees in me. Where I cannot see anything but pain and ugliness. I'm not so low that I don't feel God. I can feel Him holding me. But I cannot take his presence as the hope I need to crawl out from this darkness and go on. I see Him, but right behind him I see all the pain, all the hurt, all the ways I am broken and not enough.

So I keep praying. Begging. Lord, make the darkness go. Because right now, He is the only One who can. I know hope is here. I can see it. I just can't quite touch it. But as long as I have the will to try to reach my hand towards it every day, I am not so far gone. Life can just be again. And then someday, life can be good and amazing again.