He Sees Everything Black and White

Two days ago - the day, that is - somehow, miraculously passed without incident. It was like it did not exist. I was vaguely aware the day before but did not let myself get caught up, and then a few minutes past midnight yesterday in the wee hours I realized.

Five years to the day.

I have alluded to this day of the month in the past, but never this day of the year specifically. As with most of my pain, I am realizing, I never dealt with this day. I cried once, then shoved it away for good; any tears that came after were private, shocking, and only caused me to shove the feelings deeper. October 29, 2005...where do I even begin?

I guess I could start at a random conversation over blood in a hot tub summer '03...or a rainy night February 2004...or the last weeks of grade 11...or August 31, 2005. The last was the day things went from bad to horribly, horribly wrong. I was in love with my first love, and he loved me too. He "loved" me enough to pretend I wasn't a mistake. He "loved" me enough to lie to me when it was convenient. He continued to "love" me through the convenient right into the despicable. He "loved" me enough to sleep with a fourteen year old freshman. He "loved" me enough to allow his answer to evolve from an immediate "I'd marry you" to an "I think I would" to an "I just don't know anymore." He "loved" me enough to try to have break-up sex with me. He "loved" me enough to celebrate our break-up with a girl named Brooklyn in her hot tub. And he "loved" me enough to use me one last time when I was at my most vulnerable.

So I look at this day that still cuts like a knife, look at my life up to that point and the decisions I made, and wonder why it still hurts. I can guarantee with absolute certainty that at this moment, he's not thinking about me. He probably hasn't thought about me in months...years if I haven't popped up on his Facebook News Feed. The last thought was most likely regarding the next awful thing to say about me to his favourite group: another ex-boyfriend who used to be mortal enemies (just ask, one still has a battle wound), his friend who was always trying to convince me to be with him instead, and his friend who tried to rape me.

Breathe.

That picture was taken right before we started dating (the last time). I was genuinely beyond happy. It has been rare that I have been that happy since.

October 29, 2005, I went over to his house with candles in my backpack, a half-formed prayer tacked onto a fleeting thought (to Whom? I think even then I knew He was real), and a nagging feeling that this would be the day my life changed. Five hours later I had called just the right people to get a party together, and I sat on a couch in a perma-pot-stenched basement wearing a jacket from one boy and the arm of another, and I did not smile once. If I had to guess the next time I wore a real smile? Eight months later when I dedicated my life to God and was baptized.

I do not know how to let go. I do not know how to convince my heart to open so that I can heal it. This is the closest I have gotten...ever. I want it whole so someone else can finally come in and treat it the way I've always needed. I am so not there yet.

Those Days are Gone Forever

I came on here with the expressed purpose of writing about the disaster that was the bookends of my weekend, but I think I will save that until the very thought no longer makes me angry. For now I will only touch on the in-between parts...you know, the stuff for which I was actually in Whistler.

The Pastor's Convention was not exactly what I expected. The first night we were there, they were honouring pastors who had been in the ministry twenty-five and fifty years. Fifty years! And there were quite a few in each category. It was incredible; when we talk about finishing well it is rare to be able to put a face to the ideal, but here we were in the presence of men and women who were walking it out. One couple in particular was so sweet, so loving towards one another, and yesterday I had the privilege of sitting with them during our sessions. They were so encouraging and supportive; I didn't feel like I had to pretend to be anyone for them, as they were delighted to talk to me exactly the way I am.

It was painful, too. It was so hard listening to such phrases as "passing the baton" and "raising up replacements" when I have never experienced it for myself. Any "legacy" I may have created for myself that I could have passed on to another was stripped away in a flash (no pun intended) in the Spring. On the other end of the stick, I have also been privy to leaders who have just such a legacy and cling to it with all their might; I have never had someone above me who wanted to pass on anything to me except what they considered to be superior knowledge. As each pastor was given a baton to pass on to someone as a sign of succession or just the passing along of wisdom, I felt a deep sweep of sadness and the most inexplicable jealousy. I do not know what to think of this most recent perceived slight. In the past I believed that if I was not given a mentor or someone who would take it upon himself to raise me up, it was because God wanted to do it Himself. Now I just wonder if there is something seriously wrong with me that no one ever commits to mentoring me longer than several days or as a passing comment, and pastors laugh at me whenever I say what it is I feel called to do with my life, either outright or silently with their eyes.

As one small plus which I am sure no one expected, least of all me, I have come to have a deep respect for this denomination...almost bordering on love. Crazy, I know. I may not agree with all their theology or all the expressions it may take, but something is definitely different.

So...where do we go from here?

You gotta Love Yourself if You could Ever Love Me

I'm feeling...squashed. Deflated. Let down, hard and fast. I thought I was doing better. I thought I was finally getting into the swing of things, healthy-style. Apparently not.

I do not have enough time in my life for a guy. I do not have the energy to get out of bed and be a human being before noon, let alone the immense energy it takes to keep a relationship afloat. I do not have enough smile in me to bring about the kind of reaction I was unaware is apparently happening. Apparently I do not know what I am talking about.

I don't like myself at all when I get to this place of every word being sarcastic because it's as essential as breathing for survival. I don't feel better, I make others feel worse to bring them down to my level. Who am I affecting by writing to a white screen? Apparently no one but myself.

The world just keeps spinning and I am slowing down again. I cannot keep up. I feel like if I just knew the right combination of words and actions and medications and energy drinks I would be okay. If I only knew, I could crack the code and be like everyone else.

Apparently I know nothing at all.

Andrea Bocelli Makes My Heart Sing

Maybe I blog too much. I sit down nearly every night, just after midnight, and pour my heart onto my keyboard (apparently using more e's, s's, a's and n's than anything else judging by how little of the letters I can still see) even if I have nothing of value to say. I just go and go and go and maybe there are more worthwhile ways to waste my time. Or maybe it's just a new case of the lady doth protest too much. Whichever the case, it can be said in truth that I blog a lot. And usually about nothing of import.

Restless and Exhausted are beginning to mesh and make a baby; and I will call her Instability.

You Are the Only Exception

So I went to Young Adults tonight. Surprise! Bigger shock: I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Like, for realz.

There were a few key phrases, scriptures and truths that really stuck out to me. I also gave myself a kick in the pants sometimes, in writing, in the third person. So here they are:

Proverbs 18:21. The tongue has the power to give life or to give death.

Proverbs 4:20. Guard your heart above all else.

Leanne, be a leader already! Stop following. I always think positive thoughts I don't say, yet somehow the bad ones always slip out. I like being positive, so why not just do it?

I need to pray that I will become the woman of God He wants me to be and stop only asking that my will be done.

Don't talk about your mountain anymore, talk TO it. Have faith. What is blocking me from my God-given potential? Speak to it.

Examples of speaking truth to the mountains that really struck a chord in me:

• My schedule is not insane or busy, it is full and I am equipped by God to take it on.
• I am not used goods, I am the righteousness of God.
• I will make it out of this, alive in Him.

"When you come to the end of yourself, the only thing left is asking God to move."

That last quote really resounded within me because I said almost those exact words several months ago: "I have abruptly come to the end of myself." I felt like I had nowhere to go.

I don't normally just blog-vomit regurgitated sermon notes, but these ones really hit home.

Confession: I'm scared to commit to a church. I have only been let down. But here...I feel fed. I'm trying to get over the light show and performance to see the heart behind it all. And what I am seeing is good. I'm trying not to walk in fear. Thank You, Jesus!

My Heart has never Felt This Way before; I'm Looking through Your Eyes

Sometimes I get this ticklish inkling. Content goes out the window and Wild, Desirous and Dangerous open a new door of endless possibilities. My heart is leaping out of my chest because it knows, intrinsically, that I am meant for so much more than the here and now.

I think about tomorrow and find myself wondering why I will still be here, still going through the same mundane routine, still doing less than I am capable of accomplishing. I want to drive to Whistler tonight so I am there as soon as they open bungee jumping for the day, or go blow all my money on a one-way ticket to Ireland or Israel or Cuba, or get in my car and drive and drive and drive until I don't remember where I came from (or until I hit 48 states, whichever comes first), or go find the nearest cliff and jump off it (for recreational purposes of course), or run away to live in the woods like a wild child for a month, or drive around the city trying every ethnic food place I see, or try out for American Idol just so I can be on TV for their worst ever's, or go dancing just for the sake of letting loose and moving the way I always want to (especially when I am sitting through a seven hour class), or ask the first decent man I see to marry me and run away together to Spain and never come back, or just have a baby because I can (hello, I'm female) and am tired of waiting, or spend a ridiculous amount of money on paints and canvas and just go crazy because I love painting and never let myself, or run away to Los Angeles to work as a waitress while I wait for my chance that will make me famous and do strange sitcoms that never make it past the pilot until I meet James McAvoy on the street and he falls in love with me and gets me my big break, or swim in the ocean right now in the dead of night in October, or travel to some far off destination that will give me all the quiet I need to finally read all those books I have always wanted to and to finally devote myself to writing the way I have always dreamed of, or become a cologne consultant at The Bay.

I feel as if I am just floating, constantly pushing down the things I really want in favor of the "shoulds." Some of them are there for a purpose, namely safety or sanity, but so what? I want to live, love to the fullest, breathe each breath like it's my last, and dare to love every moment without the fear of this being the best it will ever get. I never want to ask myself if this is as good as it gets. I will do more with my life.

I want to be more than just some girl who you knew way back when and don't really know what happened to her after that. I want to be dynamic, a force of nature that takes the world by storm because I am driven be the love of the One whose passion has become mine. I cannot settle for anything less.

Why would You Want to Take Our Love and Tear It all Apart?

I need to stop making excuses for not being who I want to be. There is this woman I sometimes see in my eyes and I want her to shine through all the time. She is lovely and politely contrary and expresses the creativity that is always threatening to break through - the creativity that I stuff down because I don't have time to express it in the brilliantly daring way it demands - and she knows where she's heading and is okay with being in love with only Jesus for her whole life and paints a sunrise on her face instead of a suitcase full of make-up to feel beautiful and exudes genuine confidence because she genuinely knows that her heart is genuine. She is wonderful and I want to embrace her with all of me, but that means letting go of the things that conflict with her character. She is also strong enough to let go of the things holding her back.

I, on the other hand (or the other side of my near-schizo personality), am weak. I suppress my passions and push my way through issues that aren't worth how it hurts my friendships and constantly question where God is leading me and am still desperately scared that no man will ever love me enough to want me forever and still feel uncomfortable not wearing make-up even after a week of keeping it minimal because I am so afraid that I am not good enough or confident enough or beautiful enough without it. I am so weak that I still hold onto the last 5% of my life with all my feeble strength in the hope of...I don't even know what. I only hold myself back.

So here comes the challenge, the dilemma. What if I just jump? What if I take hold of the woman who fiercely demands her place in my life from within my own eyes and let her rule? What if I give myself over to the part of me that longs for Jesus to have my whole heart and be the example for every action, every word, every thought or motive?

Everything would change. The world would never be the same. Okay, this is it. I am taking the plunge. I am going to try this for one week...hold me accountable. I really need it. No. I really need God in control before I go out of control. I need a Daddy, I need a Friend, I need Someone to hold my hand, I need a Guide, I need a Lover. I need Jesus more than my pitiful human shell could ever know.

He Tells Me about His Night and I Count the Colours in His Eyes

Of course I would be awake now at 12:33AM, as opposed to during the seven hours of school time today when awareness and normal brain cognition would have been helpful. My body may be exhausted but my brain is wide awake. I am thoughtful and introspective. I am on my island.

I used to think my parents were old when they got married, but I realized yesterday that they were 24. The youngest I could possibly be is 23. I don't feel old, but I know I am getting there. I wanted to have a husband, a house and two kids by now. Yet the more life I live, the more it becomes glaringly obvious that my years on this earth will not be what I always wanted or expected. I don't know if I will ever live in a house long enough to be worth painting the walls, let alone have time to set up a swing-set or plant a garden in time to reap the benefits. I don't know if I will ever find a man whose dreams line up with mine in such a way that we could build a life together; maybe I am meant to do this with only one Man by my side. And with that...I don't know if children are part of the picture, and that hurts most of all.

If you've ever dated someone for a long enough period of time that you have begun to seriously discuss the future, you'll know what I mean when I say that breaking up with him isn't just losing him; you mourn a death, the death of the self you've planned to become. All the dreams, the kind of street you'd live on, how your schedules would mesh, the way you'd sign your name once it ended in his, vacations you'll never get to go on, the children with his hair and your eyes who you'll never meet...they are each a blow that needs to be faced, felt and healed. I have had a few of these "funerals" over the last few years and they never get easier, I just get better at pretending no one died. Last night in Freedom Session I cut soul ties...and I feel so much freer. I finally got the open-casket-closure I've been longing for with each person, and now I can move on with my life. It's funny, though. I never saw until now that I haven't ever taken the time to mourn the life I thought I would have, regardless of the man.

At 16, I really did have it all figured out. I would get married the summer I turned 20, live in the same house my entire married life, and start having kids within the first two years. He would work, I would do whatever my heart wanted to at any given time. Some time between then and now I decided we would be a ministry couple together. And I always thought marriage was just around the corner, whether I was taken or not. ...But that isn't the life for me. Jesus has broken me, wrecked me for anything but the incredible plans He has in store. I am going to be so much more than the stay-at-home mom I always wanted to be, or the wife who bakes and cleans and dreams all day; I am going to be a tycoon. I will do what He asks, and whatever comes with that I will take, even when it tears my heart out. And then I will die, and the real journey will begin.

My anxious heart wants to be loved by someone in the here and now, for who I am at my best and who I am without those wonderful qualities I will never possess; the real me, however, is so satisfied. I am in love. He's incredible. Every day, with every new thing we experience together, I am more myself than I am with anyone else. He's captured my heart, and there is no one else right now who can make my heart race this way. The best part? Even when I go away to be alone, to my room or my island, He's there, holding my hand and my heart and my world in the palm of His hand. He says He will never forget me, even when everyone else does, because it is on the palm of His hand I am inscribed.

One day I may meet a man who will sweep me off my feet, but it will never compare. I have a Lover of my soul with whom I am truly myself and He will always be what holds the rest of my world together. No husband could ever replace this love, get in the way, or satisfy my deepest longings. I want this journey to include someone, but I'm learning to let go of the need. With or without, I will survive.

I take it back, I'm glad I can't sleep. This smile was worth it.

I Confess You Are the Best Thing in My Life

I was asked today if I have my eye on anyone. My response? "No, I'm waiting for someone to have his eye on me."

I've committed to not dating until at least the end of April, and even then it will be iffy. I tend to let my heart be won over too easily, even if I know in my head that he's no good for me, so this is a necessary break to reassess and let my life settle. I am in the process of uprooting everything in my life that I have ever repressed or suppressed, and I need to get that crud in order before I let a man get close enough to even consider. Right now is tricky because it would be so easy to get caught up in old patterns. I'm being careful though, and sticking with my personal guidelines. I need to respect myself enough to ask respect from the opposite sex.

So as much as I might be enthralled with the idea of wrestling through life with someone, I am comfortable exactly where I am. I am beyond happy to be sitting here by myself knowing that the only guys in my life are God and my dad, and not needing another's approval or affirmation to feel good about myself. I am going to be okay. And when I get to a place in my life where I am healed enough to let someone into the new framework, then I will enjoy that brilliant place in my life as well. That man...well, he's going to be something else. I just know it.

I Love You from Your Toes to Your Face

For one class, Senior Seminar, I am reading a book entitled "Ordering Your Private World." I am usually not one for devotional books that aren't straight from the Bible, but so far four out of the five chapters I have read have hit me...hard. Today's was about being a called person as opposed to a driven person; someone who has an inner confidence from God that withstands storms versus a reliance on self that leaves a hollow shell which is easily crushed. Gordon MacDonald's example of a driven person is King Saul, while his idea of a called person is John the Baptist.

John has always been a man who intrigues me because he was so different - to be quite honest, he was really just such a strange one - and yet he was so full of tenacity and foundational knowledge of who he was and who he most certainly was not: the Christ. The Bible is clear that John was chosen for his purpose before birth and was filled with the Holy Spirit while still in his mother's womb, but beyond that we know nothing until he is about 30 years old. And where did God pick up such a man who would raise his voice to proclaim the coming of His Son? In the desert.

As soon as the phrase "why a desert?" came up, I was gripped by a fear of what I would find. A picture of myself? A new reason to loath where I am and who I am? A model of how to live that I have obviously not lived up to, or I would not still be in this dry and fruitless place? Here's a sample of what I actually found.

"Why a desert? Perhaps because in deserts people can hear and brood upon things not easily heard or thought about in busy cities, where people are usually hurried, surrounded by noise, and steeped in self-importance. ...God drew John into the desert where He could speak to him.... What can one learn in deserts? I am inclined to [avoid them because] deserts are hard places in which to live, physically and spiritually. But the fact is unavoidable: The greatest lessons are potentially learned in deserts if one, in the midst of struggle, listen's for God's call."

Wow, if. Maybe that's why I don't feel like I'm learning anything. And then there are the things we can learn in deserts:

"In deserts, one learns about dryness...[and] dependence upon God. ...Only a person who has suffered desert-like hardship knows what it is like to totally cast himself upon God because there is nothing else left. There is a bright side to deserts, however. Wilderness provides a place where one is free to think, to plan, to prepare. And then, AT THE APPOINTED TIME, like John, HE COMES CHARGING OUT OF THE DRY LAND WITH A MESSAGE, something to say that will expose hypocrisy and superficiality. Issues are addressed that cut through to the bottomless depths of the human spirit. And an age of people is introduced to the Christ of God. In the desert a person can be called."

I don't feel very called most of the time, and I rarely feel as though I am part of a preparatory time leading towards the day when I will lead a charge for His kingdom. I feel very, very small.

This picture was the closest I could find to "my" desert. That is about what it looks like in my head...just brighter sky, hazier horizon, and more emptiness than a picture could ever convey. I do not know if I will ever be truly ready to leave it.

If It's Love We Decide that It's Forever, No One Else could Do It Better

I thought this process would finally rid me of the hardness of heart, soul, mind. I thought realizing the moment the hardness started would help me to let go of it completely and let Him take control. I thought I was beyond all this.

Instead I am becoming more hard then ever, trying to protect myself from the pain I am digging up. Layers upon layers of self-betrayal for the sake of protecting the softness; I only succeeded in crushing it.

I am sitting here, staring at a list of 35 people, and every one is more difficult to deal with than the last because each one represents at least one devastating time in my life. I have only worked through five, and even those aren't healed, just exposed. The wound is open and I'm sitting here waiting for someone to come along who knows how to stitch me back up without leaving a disfiguring scar.

The truth? I'm terrified. And it's holding me back from God. Once again I am discovering that if I suppress the pain I am suppressing Him; if I pretend to be alright for everyone else I cannot hope to be genuine with Him.

My Skin Is the Smoothest It has Been in Years

I haven't blogged in really big letters in a really long time.

Tonight was a miracle. I wrote a majorish paper (not including research time) in less than 2 hours! I feel as though the old Leanne is re-surfacing. How to explain? I remember what I wrote; this time last year, I probably wouldn't even know the topic of the paper I just finished.

Today was a miracle. I did not once give in to my old habits of procrastinating by watching movies, talking to people who I have no business talking to in that moment, or doing anything I would normally never do just to avoid what I absolutely need to do (cleaning, laundry, painting my toenails, painting a house, driving to London Drugs to get batteries for a mouse I never use anyway). And, most bizarre of all, I was in the library for three hours straight...not doing gratis.

And it only gets crazier. I have been doing homework non-stop the last few days, and I am not stressed. I feel the need to hurry a little bit, but I'm not sweating the small stuff. Oooooor the big stuff.

I desperately want this to last. On my own, never. If I give it to God, absolutely. Dude, I love Him.

No It don't Come easy, No It don't Come Fast

What to say?

I am being forced to dig within myself to the most hurting, buried parts, bring them to the surface, and face them head on. Through this process I am finding out exactly how much of my life I have repressed. It is a lot.

I remember the first day I taught myself to compartmentalize to the point where I could be physically present in a conversation, respond as required to the smallest degree possible, and record what was being said for later review. That way I could recall it later, piece by piece, and not deal with the hurt in front of the person. Unfortunately, I always forgot the last step; I would leave the traumatizing material buried and not even scratch the surface of my hurt. As these things have compounded over the last three years (the time since that date), it has only served to further compound the things inside that I had already done this with, unbeknownst to myself. Now when I try to access a memory from, say, the second grade, it's gone. I have to dig through the last fifteen years of garbage until I finally get into a place of clarity where it is possible to see the hurts (or even positive experiences) from way back then.

All I can say so far is how sad I am. I am sad that I have wasted so much of my life repressing instead of facing. So sad that I am now having to spend a significant chunk of my life working through this stuff instead of getting on with my life. Devastated by what I'm turning up, which if it had been addressed in the moment would have only been a scratch on the exterior of my soul; instead it has become a sickness to my soul. I cannot believe some of the things I am discovering.

This is going to be the hardest work I have faced thus far.

If Ever, Now Is the Time

1. Revelation of the week: Jesus saved me. I called, He answered, He rescued me. And long before I called, He called me out of the dirty cesspools of the earth to be perfect in His sight. That mistake I made five years ago? He saved me from the need for it before I made the decision to ruin a piece of my life forever, and then saved me from the guilt and shame afterwards. He did the same with every mistake since, and will continue to do the same for every poor choice I will ever make for the rest of my life. If I come up against a situation tomorrow, it amazes me that I can take a step back, assess, and realize that I am not a slave to those wants or selfish desires because He already saved me from them. I get this picture of me laying in this puddle of mud, looking longingly into the muck around me as if it is both everything I want and everything I hate within myself, and He is standing over me just holding out His hand and waiting to lift me out. I am not in too deep. I never have been. Before the creation of the universe, He had already predetermined to save me from the temptation to sin that I will face tomorrow, and hopefully by His grace I will succeed in holding on to this knowledge.
2. More than a month into the school year now, I am trying to re-evaluate how successful I have been in attaining the goals I set out to accomplish. Honestly, I feel like a failure. I haven't done anything wrong, but I still feel as though the weight of expectation is crushing me and I cannot just be myself. I can no longer just be. I either sit very close to the line because otherwise I would need to be a hermit, or I plant myself far away from the line and get burned by those who are supposed to be my allies. Sometimes I still ask myself why I haven't given up yet. I am appreciating this time of reflection and being free from certain tendencies that only lead to self-destruction, but I am beginning to feel smothered. I am either doing what is technically right but still feeling guilt (and I cannot tell if it is false guilt or the good kind designed to lead me to repentance) or doing what the letter says is right and feeling alone. I know I can press through if I just try hard enough, but at what point does sheer will fail me and leave me a heap of regret on the floor?
3. This weekend is a four day holiday for me (Thanksgiving on Monday and no class Tuesday), so I am using it to catch up on all my schoolwork and prepare for the coming week. I just need to press on, get down to the nitty-gritty, and realize that procrastination will only hurt me in the long run.
4. I don't have time, and it's not on my list of 100 books to read because I already have, but I am going to start reading Gone with the Wind again. I will not become her. I will not make her mistakes.
5. It is raining hard outside, the wind is blowing up a gale, and it is surprisingly warm for the middle of the night. All this to say, it is again the middle of the night. Old habits die hard. It looks like this may be another semester that is consistently visited by the A.M. fairy. What I wouldn't give to feel most invigorated and alive at 3 in the P.M. instead of the A.M.

I'm hopelessly lost without You.

Go on and Get your Armour, Heart, because You're Going to Need It

Old nonsense. That's me.

Yet.

I feel able, capable.

Passionate! About things, about people, about the things that shouldn't matter but do and the things that don't matter but should.

I look into the future and only see brightness; a light at the end of the tunnel greater than I could have possibly imagined, in the words of someone speaking to my nine-year-old self.

There is hope again.

I know who I want to be, how I can get there, and a glimpse of what endless joys it will bring.

I will be honest. I will be trustworthy. I will be compassionate. I will strive to be a woman after God's own heart. I will be a woman of integrity. I will be a faithful, supportive, loving wife, and not just because those words sound good and are expected. I will choose to love and respect my husband, even when he disappoints me and does not love me the way he should. I will raise my children with all the care in the world, pouring into their lives and investing in who they will become. I will serve God how He asks me to, not how I think would best suit me. I will be a good enough friend to be upfront, putting everything on the line in order to help them be the best they can be. I will finish school. I will stop putting things off until tomorrow. I will stop loving the things that only break my heart. I will finish well.

The time has come for me to stop focusing on who I do not want to be and to turn my attention to the person I am endeavoring to become. I can be her, whenever I choose. I choose now.

Day 40

Reading back, I feel like this blog has become some sort of testament to my time at college. In one click I can immediately transport myself back to who I was on my happiest afternoon, my longest night, the deepest depression, the worst mistakes, or my greatest successes.

George Santayana once said "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." I wonder what deep, dark issues George had that led to him feeling condemned; he speaks as a man who has been through some repetition himself. It's fascinating for me to walk back through the last two-and-a-bit years and see the threads that run all the way through; mistakes that could have been avoided had I only taken the time to look back and learn seem painfully obvious now.

Some things are ridiculously clear all of a sudden (sidenote: I love that phrase, "all of a sudden." It's deeper than we generally give it credit). I witnessed a proposal yesterday, and rather than making me feel jealous or anxious for my own time, a shocking thought came to me: what makes me believe that I deserve any less than that? I have been so willing to settle, in the past, for anyone who would look my way and promise whatever they thought would make me stay awhile. Now I am seeing more clearly. The disconnect between the ideal man, the one who I will spend the rest of my life with, and the boys I am happy to be flattered by and pursued by has been obliterated. It has suddenly come together that if I want the next one to be The One, I have to allow Jesus to heal my heart so that I can be worthy of him; I need to decide what are the non-negotiables so that when a man pursues me I won't get swept up in the moment.

Thankfully I have until the end of April to figure out my life and my heart, but that doesn't stop me from thinking and hearing and seeing and feeling. I am looking around me and seeing the amazing qualities of the guys surrounding me, and I can appreciate them for who they are while still respecting myself and them.

Here's to turning over a new leaf.

And I Hate how Much

Why does everything come hard right now? Nothing is just natural. Even my writing is scattered and halting...like my every move. I've been putting on a brave face (or at least trying; I'd see through it if I weren't me), but I'm cracking on the inside. Every look is another wrench in my heart. Why? Because I'm crazy.

The end.

I Think about It Over and Over Again

Things are slowly sinking in.

• I will not excel this semester the way I am used to.
• People think things about me that are unchangeable.
• Change will come. Slowly.
• Life will not turn out how I expected, and most likely not the way I want.

And then there are the other things. I have two bags and a suitcase full of make-up that do not see me the way God sees me. Sometimes I still believe a can of Pepsi will save my day. I have Facebook messages from years ago that I am afraid to delete. I have a Twenty in my Bible that still hasn't hit my heart.

Every day, I am still on the verge of losing myself all over again.

We Don't have to Talk about the Ones that We Can't Live Without

The only thing worse than hating afterwards the thing you do is to be wrongly accused of doing that same thing while not even having the momentary satisfaction of having done it.