Strange Tides

Something's changing. I don't know quite what it is, and pinning it down isn't coming easy...but it's something. Something is changing.

I have spent the last several years being scared to death of who I really am, of what will be if I just let go and be "me." What would that look like? Who would be staring back in the mirror? I have based my worth on the person who I've pretended to be, rather than on who I wish I could be.

Lately I've started looking at things in a new light. Instead of looking at an outfit and thinking, "What would people think, though?", I say, "Why not?" And I throw it on and go. I've also stopped trying to hide how I really feel on a subject. Do I really care if I offend someone on a subject that's not of huge consequence just because we share a slightly different viewpoint? No. And is it okay if my life doesn't turn out like the fairytale my childhood promised but my Jesus never said anything about? Absolutely.

I'm learning to let go of what doesn't matter and embrace the things that truly do. And if I let go of all this "doctrine" and focus on Him, I feel safer than when I "know all the answers." I love being insecure in myself so that I can be secure in Him.

The tides of me are changing. I'm still the same woman inside, but I'm finally letting her out for a breath of fresh air. She's been cooped up too long.

Life After Love

Rewrite.

Valentine's Day. Two days ago. Lots happened. I don't know if things will ever be the same.

I had a ton to write, and it was going to be really poetic and beautiful. I was going to spill my heart and share some scripture. But there's nothing else to say.

Anything else? Don't think so. I think I covered it all...in bed.

Oh Baby, If Only You Knew

Today is a very special occasion. This is my, correction, thirty-seventh blog, and I'm not quite sure how to celebrate. How about with an exclamation of how amazing it is to be alive.

This has been such a learning process, and skimming over some previous entries has brought me to one conclusion: I am irreversibly screwed up. Every time I turn around, I've changed my mind, my mood, my heart. Just two blogs ago I swore off stability and flew at spontaneity, and now I sit safe on a Bible college couch awaiting nothing more exhilerating than curfew.

I found a new hobby. I adoringly call it "Wedding Stalking." Basically, I creep around Facebook until I find someone with a wedding album and go from there. I'm putting together a collection of my favourite ideas. The truth is, I'm planning crazy. Just the other day I picked out my rings. HOLD UP! Before you judge me and see the rest of this blog through jaded glasses, hear me out. I am very open to whatever my man wants to get me. And if his taste completely differs from mine but it's what he really wants for me, I'm so okay with that. ...BUT, if I'm going to be completely honest, I know what I want. And they're beautiful. It's not that I'm uber picky, I just love originality.

Speaking of being original, I cannot wait to have a job that pays tons of money so I can save up for stuff, and then re-design my wardrobe. The more I look around, the more I see the typical style of today. Yes, some people attempt to be original, but it's still within the same box. I want to be so beyond the box that things like "pants," panties," and "ponchos" don't even enter my vocabulary. I want to be like "BAM!" and people would be all like "WOAH!" and whip their heads around so fast they'd fly off and their hair would wrap around telephone poles and swing into oncoming traffic.

Regarding my latest mood swing: I am cured, I think. I know how depressing I've been, and it's only made me feel worse to write about it. Yet even as I'm typing this, I know that isn't the entire truth. It is such a release to just be honest and put my entire self OUT THERE, vulnerable, pouring out my soul. The more I pour, the more room there is to be adding grape juice back in. The more lemonade I replace, the more outwardly beautiful I become. Don't confuse this with physical beauty, I'm talking about the type that shines straight from my heart and out my eyes. My mom used to say that she could always tell my mood just by looking in my eyes, because they're so expressive of my deepest thoughts. I've learned that as much as I can smile it away for those who don't know me as well, the ones who honestly know my heart will never be fooled.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day Eve, my second favourite day of the year. What will I do with myself? Not a clue. What will I not do with myself? Stay in my room feeling sorry for myself. Or happy for myself. I refuse to be anything beyond accepting of my singleness. I can be happy despite it, but not with it. And I'm sick of hearing how that's not okay. I'm okay with it, so all should be supportive. Like when someone's on a horrible downward spiral, caught up in drugs, sex and alcohol. Come on people, get it together.

So here I am. The latest and greatest of my thoughts. Am I confused as ever? Yes. Do I have any clue where I will be two months from now? Not the slightest clue. (These self-reflecting questions are my favourite, in case you haven't caught on by now.) Do I know how to interpret my crazy dreams lately? AHAHAHA as if! All they make me want to do is have babies more than ever.

I am irreversibly screwed up.

We Could All Use a Little

Let's be honest for a moment. Let's take a good long look at "stuff," and be truthful in the face of a loss of depth perception. I think we could all use a little honesty.

I have run out of words: to describe how I feel, to put into the world something beautiful instead of always taking, to feel that I am doing something that matters. Everything used to be about words for me. How could I say something just right, so that no one would ever doubt me again? Is it possible to be right all the time? Obviously. But then I'd never have the satisfaction of being right, because I wouldn't know what it is to err.

I've run out of love. Wherever it was that used to produce x amount for me daily, weekly, monthly; for Him, for him, for her, for them, for me...that spot has run dry. And I don't know how to fill it back up again.

I'm completely out of ideas on how to be who I want to be again. Just when I thought it was all back together, it's not.

Honestly? Aloneness is a disease. It's a sickness that wakes me in the middle of the night, plagues my thoughts and corrupts my attitude. I don't want to be alone, live alone, die alone.

So here I sit. 20.6 years old, and I'm already scared to die alone. I FEEL LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME! The worst part? I don't know what I'm rushing to. I don't know what I'm running from. I am just a scared kid, and I can't break out of this rut!!!!


When we get down to it, we could all use a little bit of something. For me, it's honestly. I'm sure everyone has their own thing. But right now, honestly, it's honesty.

Where did it all go wrong?
I do not know.

Quickest Blog of Life

This is the quickest blog of life.

I don't know what I'm thinking, where I'm going, or what in the world I'm doing. Somehow things are rolling and I don't know how.

Part of me is scared to death, the other part of me wonders what of. I have one life. Only one. I have this moment, and then it's gone. Now this one. Gone.

So I'm taking a risk. Chancing it. And if it all blows into oblivion in the end? So be it. At least I'm living, experiencing, FEELING SOMETHING. I cannot go on with this endless emptiness always seeping in around the corners and ruining the entire portrait. No more. This is happening. For how long? I don't know. Is that okay?

Yes.

Another moment.

Gone.

Making Love Out of Nothing At All

Sometimes I just don't want to blog. Today, for example. I have nothing to write about. There is not a single original thought in my head. I don't pretend to be a revolutionary, but I love sharing something that is really on my heart; I live to share the words that refuse to come out in speech but flow effortlessly through my fingertips.

I'm nostalgic to the max right now. I'm thinking back to months ago when it felt like everything that came out in print was the perfect expression of a moment or a feeling, or an overflow of certainty that nothing could be more right in that second. And here I sit. Nothing. Not a thought on what I could possibly fill this empty space with.

So in my search to discover the perfect words to say, I came across some of my own from September. Gosh I love haikus.


Purple-blanketed
Sunshine singing to my back
Smells of grass and me


I don't know why these seventeen syllables bring me so much joy, but as I read them...I can almost feel the moment again. Maybe that's why I write.

How do you photograph heroism, paint a broken dream, or dictate true love? It haunts me that we have all these emotions and words and senses that are so difficult to capture. So here's my mission: do everything in my power to put these things into words. Faulty, failing, inadequate words, but something tangible nonetheless.

I set out to write about nothing, and I ended up writing about everything all at once. Maybe you can't see it, and maybe this doesn't mean a thing to you, but my heart is beating faster just thinking about the last few paragraphs.