there's a place for us

For a writer, I don't have the best memory. It's not that I don't remember things. I do - I just remember snapshots rather than complete scenes. I remember the feeling of a moment, the gist of inspirational words, but the exact words escape me.

I think that's why I've always loved fiction and how easy it is to get lost in the world created by the author. Often times it's a mix of reality and fantasy. And even though things don't always go according to plan, there's a light with every misstep and the understanding that everything will work out in the end.

Not every story has a happy ending, but there is always an ending.

Life isn't like that. Life doesn't just end; it continues to breathe and grow - even after the person living the life is gone. Each choice a person makes has a consequence. Those consequences come to the person who made the choice as well as to other people.

If the woman didn't choose to place the baby up for adoption, then the couple wouldn't have adopted the baby. If the couple hadn't adopted the baby, the baby may never have learned how to read at 5. And if the baby hadn't learned how to read at 5, then the baby may never have grown up to be a writer.

And if the writer didn't tell the story of how boy met girl, there would be no inspiring words to curl up with on a rainy day. No funny words to laugh over while stretched out on the beach with a drink in hand. No sentence to dissect in the midst of a sophomore English class. No novel to write a five-page paper over in college.

The story, even though it has a definite ending, continues on because of the author's choice to write the story.

I've always been drawn to fiction because it gives me hope. I've always felt better suited for writing fiction because I didn't have to remember. I could grasp onto the moments in my life and enjoy the murkiness of those memories without having to squint and force the details to come into focus. And I've always loved fiction because I could hide my own realities behind it.

Then I made the choice to start a blog, and suddenly there is no hiding any realities. It is all about showcasing the good and the bad along with the somewhere in between.

Writing a blog is stretching me. It's causing me to look at the world more carefully. I'm taking in the edges and the details along with the whole picture. I'm going back to those little moments and dissecting them, trying to understand why I felt the way I did and what the air felt like and who was present.

There are certain moments that stand out. One was on a bridge. I was in junior high. The church I grew up in was at Conclaves. It was the end of the weekend. Split into our small groups, we wrote notes to one another. Notes of affirmation. Notes that could be pulled out years later and hopefully serve as the beacon of hope through whatever darkness we might be facing in that moment. I don't know the exact words that were written, though I am sure they are hidden somewhere in my bedroom at my parents house, but I remember how they made me feel. I felt inspired and good enough and loved. Three things that are sometimes difficult for a teenage girl to feel no matter how much she hears those things.

The other day I started putting together a bucket list. One of the items on the bucket list was to become an inspiration. While looking at the list earlier today, I found a comment from a friend of mine that read you can mark done on this one too...you have always been an inspiration to me.


Those words took me back to that bridge. And to other moments. Times when people poured into me and told me words of affirmation. Times when I heard that something I said or wrote - something I did - made a difference in someone else's life.

In those other moments, I would take the words, believe them for a moment, and then release them. But this time I held onto the words and thought about them. I considered what they meant. And I wondered what it was about me that made me feel like I shouldn't or couldn't believe the words.

I started wondering about what it is about all of us that makes us all feel that we aren't good enough. I started wondering about what it would be like if we started to see ourselves the way other people saw us.

How different my life would be if I saw myself as an inspiration. How different my life would be if I considered myself a writer. How different my life would be if I saw my dreams as realities and not impossibilities.

I don't have it all figured out (clearly). I'm stumbling and fumbling along in my weight loss journey. Rather than writing a novel, I think about the characters and the plot. And so maybe I'm not the one to spark a revolution for the whole world, but I am the one to spark a revolution for my own life.

So I am going to do the thing I've never been able to do. I'm going to take the words of affirmation, years worth of words of affirmation, and I am going to believe them. I am going to remember how it felt the first time I heard the words. I am going to concentrate on the details and allow them to seep into future memories. I am going to allow the words I once hid away to effect the rest of my life and maybe make their way into someone else's life.

I am going to be the person so many people already see me as.

(title from "romeo & juliet" by edwin mccain)

the walls we crashed through

My alarm went off at 5:10 Monday morning. I pressed the snooze button and then rolled out of bed at 5:17am. It was difficult to keep my eyes open, but I stumbled through the house and pulled on shorts, a tee-shirt, and a sweatshirt since it was cold outside.

I arrived at the gym a little after 5:30. My bleary eyes were clear, and I felt ready to tackle a 30-minute circuit workout. One sweaty bra, several ounces of water, and five minutes of stretching later I was done. My forehead was dripping sweat. My heart rate got up to 153 and averaged at 132. I knew I could have pushed myself harder and promised myself that I would - next time.

That afternoon, instead of sitting at a table and eating my sandwich (and then twiddling my thumbs for an hour), I took to the pool for my lunch break.

Swimming is something I love. Being in chlorinated water is like being home for me. I spent several years improving my stroke and racing alongside other swimmers for the Katy Aquatics. There were many times I fought against practice, and eventually, I quit.

My parents were never ones to push. They wanted me to maintain my commitments, but it was always up to me to decide what I would do and to see it through. They supported me in all my endeavors (acting, voice lessons, horseback riding, swimming, etc.), but it was up to me to do the hard work.

There's a part of me that, just like then, wants to quit now. Because it's hard. But unlike then, I refuse to quit. I am going to see this weight loss thing through because I can.

When I stopped swimming, I didn't realize how it would affect everything. I went from being relatively athletic to being overweight. I was never as thin as my friends, and I remember looking at the picture of my in the swimsuit and seeing a chubby girl. What I see now is a girl who had muscles and a different build than many of my friends. At the time, I wanted to win races and compete for a long time, but I stopped, partilally because it seemed like everyone else was so much better and faster than I was.

It doesn't matter how fast I am. I don't have to compete against anyone else. This journey.. this LIFE.. isn't about comparing myself to someone else. It isn't about losing more weight than another woman in my shoes or being better than someone else. It's about losing the weight I have to lose and being better than I have been in the past.

I've heard from many people in my life that I seem so dedicated. That I am doing well. That they are proud of me. That I'm inspiring them to go after the same things I am. And while I appreciate the words, I so often feel like I am none of those things. I so often feel like the girl who loved the chlorinated water but still quit.

I would take it back if I could. I would stick with the swimming. I would have made sure to try out for the team in high school. I wouldn't have settled for just lifeguarding and eaching swim lessons.

But I can't take it back. And it's time that I stop wishing I could take it back or wondering what would have happened if I had stuck with it. All I can do right now is see this thing through and not quit as I have in the past.

 

Workout #1 and Workout #2 from 10/10/11. 598 calories burned.

I remembered all of this as my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning, and I strongly considered hitting hte snooze buttonand falling back asleep for another hour. Instead of slipping deeper into the covers, I threw both legs off the bed and got up - excited dogs and all.

My workout was a little rushed due to needing to get home and shower before work, but I finished the 52-minute workout sweaty and sore thanks to the 15 minutes of stationary bicycle and 7 minutes of treadmill and then 30 minutes of weights. Looking at my heart rate monitor, I know I need to work on icreasing my heart rate and getting into a different zone as my maximum heart rate was 145 and the average was 130.

The goal I had for the lunchtime workout was to spend the majority of the time in "zone 2." I headed off to zumba and checked my heart rate monitor periodically. I wanted to pump my fist every time I saw I was in the right zone but instead just did my best to complete the steps as close to correctly as possible. And hour later, I found that I had spent just over 50 minutes in "zone 2" with a maximum heart rate of 152 and an average heart rate of 137.

 

Workout #1 and Workout #2 from 10/11/11. 989 calories burned.

Seeing those numbers (989 calories burned!) inspires me. It makes me want to head right back to the gym after work. But instead I'll spend the night with friends from church - burning calories from laughing. Seeing those numbers also reminds me of just how far I have come - all the way from the girl who quit swimming to the girl who is pushing herself past the point of quitting. And those numbers make me quite excited for tomorrow's work out. 30-minute circuit and water aerobics - here I come!

(title from "long live" by taylor swift)

this isn't easy; this isn't clear

Not yet old enough to drive, I sat in the backseat with a friend of mine. It was the first time I had worn all black out of respect and the first time I'd stared loss right in the face. He was someone I knew from the ugly and messy years of junior high school. Ninth grade came, and just as had happened with the start of sixth grade, we went our separate ways. A dividing of friendships into different high schools due to rezoning.

I didn't think of him much. We had shared a few classrooms and maybe some laughs, but there was no deep friendship.

But when I heard that he was gone, I remembered. I remembered sitting in the hallways. I remembered talks by the lockers. I remembered all of it.

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. -Chuck Palahniuk

We were sophomores in high school. It's a time in life when everything seems that much harder. It's a time in life when no one understands. Many of us would be lying if we said we hadn't ever thought about it. When people are mean and you cry yourself to sleep and spend hours with a tightness in your chest, it's hard not to think about it.

Life would be better for everyone if I weren't here. Will things ever get better? Why is this so hard? I just don't think I can do it anymore. The thoughts go round and round in young minds. Parents and teachers tell you that it gets better. That this will all pass. And you want to believe the, but it is so hard.

He was on the football team. His letter jacket hanging next to a picture of him. The casket was closed. The funeral was held at the church I had attended Vacation Bible School as a child. It was the same church I decided that I believed in Jesus.

We sat in the balcony, near the back. I don't think I cried, but I could be wrong. I remember the lump in my throat and feeling how overwhelming this all was. We watched the remaining members of the football team walk in with their heads down. They wore letterjackets to remember him by. And his mother following. She was inconsolable.

As anyone who has been close to someone that has committed suicide knows, there is no other pain like that felt after the incident. -Peter Greene

That was my first funeral. I didn't understand it all then. I was only a teenager and still caught up in my own world of frustration and anxiety and crying myself to sleep some nights. But I knew that he was gone. I knew it had been his choice. And I knew he left behind so many people grieving for him, wishing he hadn't left, and wondering what his life would have been like.

It's been about 10 years now. I can remember the whisperings in the hall about his death. The details that were shared. The way people were shocked. Even the cruel jokes some high school students told. I remember the conversations I had with friends and the shock I felt that something like this had happened.

Life might not follow the path I thought it would. But that's because it is life. It is always changing and always moving. Even when it feels like there is no hope, there is. Even when you feel like you are alone, you aren't. When it feels like no one understands, remember that somwhere in the big, beautiful and messy world there is someone who does understand.

We are all connected. Our lives intertwine through the internet, mutual friends, and even the movies we watch. There's something bigger than any of us that holds everything together and keeps every heart beating. There is so much to live for. Even when it is dark and seems like the sun will never shine, there is more to live for. Eventually the sun will rise, and you will be blinded by the brightness.

If you're feeling low, don't despair. The sun has a sinking spell every night, but it comes back up every morning. The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. -Dolly Parton

And that is why I am walking. There are events happening across the country over the course of the next year. One will take place in Oklahoma City on 9/10/11. And I will be there to walk the three to five miles. I will be there to remember those who have been lost, to fight for those who think there is no hope, and to raise awareness of this epidemic. It's time to do something, and while it might not be much for just one person to walk, I know God has huge plans to join many people together and walk for this one cause.

There is the opporunity to donate. I'm hoping to raise $150 at least. But to me the money isn't as important as people joining together for one cause. Understanding of the prevention of suicide is important. Joining together to combat the darkness that plagues so many is important. I'm excited to share this journey with as many as want to walk alongside me (our group is Frontline Youth) or walk in their own cities. All donations will go directly to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Over seven-million dollars has been raised so far. We can end this and remind people that they are loved beyond measure.

(title from "when a heart breaks" by ben rector)

from another life

I watched two episodes of "Dawson's Creek" tonight.

I'm not sure if it was nostalgia or something else, but I felt a need to revisit a show that shaped my life in ways I'm still trying to figure out. I pulled out every season and read the summary paragraphs. The desire to start with the seasons I prefer, when Joey and Pacey begin their relationship and everything that follows, was there, but I started with the beginning. Because even if I am not the biggest fan of the beginning, it is where everything started.

I have memories of watching the show at night when it first aired. Memories of watching re-runs of it while getting ready for the day. Memories of spending entire weekends in my college apartment, cleaning or doing homework, and watching seasons at a time of the show. Memories of Starbucks and "Dawson's Creek" episodes with one of my best friends. Memories of picking out clothes similar to the ones Joey Potter wore and hoping that maybe one day there would be something worthy of writing about in my own life.

And the music? It spoke to me in a way I hadn't experienced before. The lyrics took over the episodes at just the right time, and I had the childish dream that one day I would be the one to pen a series and select the perfect music for each scene.

There's a part of me still that has that dream. Though I have no clue what the show would be about.

It's not just the memories that "Dawson's Creek" evokes or how it wove its way into so many pivotal moments of my life. It's also the inspiration I found from the characters, the dialogue, and the music. It's the dreams it brought to almost reality.

I still find it now. It's harder to come by. Life gets in the way. My body doesn't do well staying up into all hours of the night. But there's still inspiration lurking; I just have to fight to grab hold of it and turn it into something tangible.

And I think that's what growing up is. It's not just a series of moments. It's more than celebrating birthdays, weddings, and babies. It's grabbing hold of the things you want and turning them into tangible items.

My story is not that of a television show. The list of characters isn't neat and tidy. There are no great loves that followed me through adolescence, puberty, and then eventually into life after college.  There is not a soundtrack of fifteen songs that I could select to play throughout those moments.

There are mistakes I would like to forget. There are loves that weren't really loves at all. There are broken friendships and severed relationships and a list of characters that I sometimes wish I still knew and other times am glad I do not know. And there's an iPod with more than 4,000 songs that speak to different areas of my life - past and present and maybe even future.

At one time, I wanted my life to be a television show. To have neat and tidy episodes. To keep only certain people close, and to live up to an expectation that I created - one that would please the viewers.

I can't say the desire has completely left. Because television shows have a definite end and beginning - in each episode, for every season, and ultimately for the entire show. Life has a definite beginning in birth and then an ending in death, but the seasons of life and days don't always end or begin so clearly.

Maybe that's why so much of this is difficult. The endings and beginnings rush together. Every step can be considered the first step.

I plan on rewatching all of "Dawson's Creek" over the next few weeks and months. And I plan on paying attention to the details - to remind myself of all the reasons the show made me laugh and cry and connect.

And I plan on taking several new first steps. Steps towards writing. Steps towards my future and what I want to be when I finally grow up. Steps towards losing a total of twenty pounds and then another eighty pounds.

My life is not a television show. There will likely be no clear or clean endings and beginnings, but I can still find bits and pieces of myself in the dialogue and in the music.

Joey: Dawson, I'm sorry I don't have the same dreams I had when I was 15 years old, and I'm sorry that I moved on faster than you did, but you know what? Maybe not everything that happens to you is my fault! And maybe just because I want more from my life than...
Dawson: More than what? More than us? You don't know, do you? You've never known. The entire time I've known you, all you've wanted to do is escape. From me, from Capeside. I mean, you say that I'm the dreamer. I'm the one who doesn't wanna live in the real world. Well, I'm doing it, Joey. Right now. I'm living in the real world. It's you who wants the fantasy.

Jen: No, no, hear me out, Dawson, please. Okay? Because this seems to be the day of truths, and I'm taking my turn. I lost my virginity when I was 12 to some older guy who got me drunk, I don't really remember his name but after the first pregnancy scare I went on the pill, and I used condoms most of the time, some of the times, I don't know, it's kind of blurry. I was really drinking a lot and having blackouts and stuff, um. I was sexualized way too young, and I don't wish that on anybody. I mean, sex at such a young age, more often than not, is a bad idea. I finally got caught having sex in my parents' bed. Daddy's little girl fornicating right before his very eyes. He still can't look me in the face but then again he shipped me 200 miles away so he wouldn't have to, but Dawson I'm not that girl anymore. I never really was, and I'm not that white-as-snow image you've got either, I'm somewhere in between and I'm just, I'm just trying to figure it out.

Joey: How would you know what I need?
Pacey: Yeah...you know you're probably right. How could I possibly know what it's like to let somebody go, right? How hard it is to let someone go. The pain of knowing that even though the two of you are right for each other, that doesn't necessarily mean that you're right for each other right now. What would I know about that, right? How could I possibly know that sometimes it just makes you want to scream, hit somebody, or sit out at the end of a dock and cry...
Joey: Of all the people to see me like this, it had to be you.

(title from "dizzy" by jimmy eat world)