you made me smile when i was sad

I started this blog on a whim. It was a thought the went through my head, a thought that ignited an idea. The idea was to hold myself accountable, to document the way God moved in my life. I haven't been the best at updating. Part of it is for lack of trying; part of it is because of fear and uncertainty; part of it is because of not knowing what to say.

It's this habit I have, this self-deprecating habit, of committing to something, anything in my mind and then not following through. It's this fear I have, have had for years; a fear of success. Not of failure but of success. Because what happens if I succeed? How would that change my life? Could I handle the changes? Would I welcome the changes? Would those around me welcome the changes?

The people I am close to love me; they want the best for me. I have heard these words more than a million times. But I struggle with really listening to them.

I want the best for me. I do. I want to be the best version of myself possible. This includes every aspect of my life: work, writing, house, weight, health, happiness. So why then is it so difficult for me to work to achieve the best for me? Why would I rather sit and wallow, allow myself to do all right but not extremely well?

If the answers come to me, I'll make sure to post them here. For now, I am going to concentrate on seeking out the answers. Starting tonight, I am going to do what is best for me, not necessarily what I want to do, and I am going to chronicle each step here. Even the steps that result in my tumbling down a staircase and bruising every inch of myself.

This all started after a loving conversation I had with my husband. Our lives are quite separate, unfortunately, due to differing work schedules. I work from 8am to 5pm Monday to Friday, and he works 3pm to 11pm during the week (and sometimes the weekends). We spent the entire day together, a first in almost a month.

After an afternoon of relaxing and not cleaning the house, we saw Inception and then ate dinner together. He made a healthier choice in his dinner selection (minus the queso and chips we both decided to get), and I went with the American meal of a hamburger with french fries. Afterward, I said I wish I had ordered a veggie burger with a side of fruit. I thought about ordering it, even thought about ordering a salad, and then decided to go with the dinner that sounded better at the time. At least I only drank water with dinner, though.

Once we were home and sitting on the couch, we began to talk about health, about my being the best version of myself. We talked about the differences in my appearance between now and when we first met. I was blonde, always wore contacts, tan, and thinner when we met in 2007. Now I have reddish brown hair, wear my glasses most days, don't remember what a tan line is, and have put on more weight than I will admit to.

He handled the conversation with love. There were no negative words, no accusations. He stated he wanted the best for me, wanted me to enjoy my appearance, to feel beautiful, and he reminded me that he still sees me as beautiful.

I respect him for coming to me with his thoughts. It wasn't an easy conversation, and I know he struggled with what to say and even if he should say anything at all. But he did speak with love, and I am thankful for that. I didn't want to hear the words, but I needed to.

I plan to join the gym at the University of Oklahoma. It is $20 a month and will be removed from my paycheck before taxes, much like my parking permit. I plan to work out either in the morning before work or in the evening after work. There will be no excuse not to go as the gym is one minute from my office.

I plan to stop eating so much processed foods. It used to be unavoidable when I worked for the state when I spent at least twenty hours a week driving across the state of Oklahoma, but now, I sit in an office and leave campus only when I decide on fast food for lunch. Not only will it save us money to not eat at Braum's or Chik-Fil-A or McDondald's, but it should assist my waistline and cholesterol levels in shrinking.

I plan to cut diet coke out of my life as much as possible. I've endured withdrawals before. I know I can do this. The people I work with just may not like me as much while I am going through withdrawals.

I plan to not give into my every craving. I have the house to myself at night, and I enjoy sitting on the couch, watching The Bachelorette, and savoring a bowl (sometimes two) of ice cream. It's almost like I am back in college (minus the brightly colored apartment). Just because I have the opportunity to be a girl and eat too many sweets three or four nights a week, while my husband works, doesn't mean I should.

I've tried these things before, and I always gave into my wants and desires. I always allowed the wants and desires of right now to dictate my actions rather than looking into the future.

Now it is time to look into the future. I have years of life, I hope, left on Earth. I am called to make them years of joy, healthiness, happiness, and hope; I am not called to make them years of sometimes happiness and enjoying what I want in the moment.

I believe God speaks to us through other people, and while tonight's conversation with my husband may have been just about my health, I believe God is speaking to me about all aspects of my life. I am just going to start with this one aspect and see where it leads.

(title from "more like her" by miranda lambert)

this brokenness inside me might start healing

This past November, I ran away from Oklahoma and returned home to Texas for a weekend. A last-minute trip that occurred because of the aching in my chest, because of the overwhelming tears, and because of an exhausted mind and soul. I had watched my breaking point dance past weeks before, and I could no longer grasp onto the strings holding me to Oklahoma.

I spent a long weekend with my mother. A flight from Oklahoma City to Dallas in the early morning and then from Dallas to Houston, and I was home. Dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, I felt almost as though I had woken from a long dream in which I had graduated college and married. It felt as though I were still the same, wide-eyed blonde with hopes to graduate and then make something of myself.

But it wasn’t a dream. I had graduated in May 2008, married in September 2008, and purchased a home in January 2009. So many life changes in fewer than 12 months. Maybe it was the short periods of time that caused my unraveling in November.

Returning home pieced me back together. My mother was the glue that held all the pieces in place; she is still the glue.

I’m not the best with intimacy, with making friendships that last a lifetime. I am easily hurt, easily angered, and have a green side that I try to hide myself from. I give up on people, but more so, I give up on myself too easily and decide it is time to move on, that I am too much, that it is no longer worth it.

During my escape to Texas, I began to combat these things. A closet full of trinkets, pictures, and memories, and a request that I go through the belongings and decide what to keep, what to throw, and what to pass on to a stranger. It was not what I had in mind for a last-minute flight to Houston, but my mother is the glue that holds me together. And as the glue, she often knows exactly what I need to make me whole.

I saw my entire life in that closet. Friendships that had lasted for 5 years, some that dwindled after two years. Pictures of boys that had captured my heart. Pictures of what happened after my heart broke. Notes passed in class and letters sent to friends in far-off states. And with it all, the knowledge that none of those relationships are truly intact as of this date.

We grew apart. Life got in the way. We moved to different states. There was a fight. Excuses and nothing but excuses for why relationships ended the way they did. Some relationships were meant to exist for only a season in my life, and I am thankful for all those seasons. Somehow the springs, summers, and falls brought me to my current season. It’s more winter than I would like, but I don’t think the groundhog has seen his shadow; spring is on the horizon.

And so many relationships could have passed into other seasons of my life, so many could be here with me now just waiting for the snow to melt and the flowers to bloom. But they are gone, a memory of the past and a reminder of how easy it is to walk away but how hard it can be to move on.

I’m still learning to release jealousy. I am forgiving myself for pushing others away. I am forgiving others for the things I interpreted as hurtful. I am learning to drown in a sea of grace for myself and for those around me. We’re all nothing but human with our own shortcomings and our own downfalls. No one can fix another, and none should need to.

I’m doing my best to relearn intimacy, to allow my heart to open and to allow the possibility of pain. A broken heart is terrifying, but loneliness is much more so.

Life has so much to offer. Some of it is good, and then there is so much that is not. When I remember the past, it’s hard to see the stumbling blocks. I focus only on overcoming and enjoying. How I want to focus on those things now and not just when I look in the rearview mirror.

So I traveled back to Oklahoma and took with me the lessons of Texas, the bottle of glue mixed especially for me by my mother. I’m still broken, I’m still not quite sure how I fit together, but I am allowing myself to be repainted, sculpted, and created better than before.

I still struggle with intimacy. I still worry over the words I say and if anyone will be nearby the next day. I wonder what will happen if I push you away. But I try to not act in the ways of the past. Instead, I reach deep, and I ask for help. I move forward, and I apologize for the wrongs that have been done.

I ask God to guide me. Then I close my eyes, and I leap. I know my mother will always be there to catch me, always available for a plane ride home if I need to be pieced back together.

(title from "the house that built me" by miranda lambert)