[ghosts of the past. we can never go back.]

…I miss us.

Replaceable

I am used to being your person. But now I’m not. Over night I went from your best friend to being the tag-a-long because you’re afraid of how I will react if you don’t include me. You keep saying you’re still my best friend and I’m still your person, but I think that’s just what you’re telling yourself. I know I hurt you. I am sorry. I wish I could undo it. I don’t understand how this all happened over night. It was a like a switch was flipped, suddenly. I had no warning. You’re the one that had time to think it through, decide what actions you were going to take, and how to react. You were the one that probably was most hurt, but I am paying for it all day, every day now. I wish I could go back and fix things, change my actions, undo all of this. I miss being your person. I miss being the person you wanted to see. The person you wanted to tell things. The person you wanted to spend time with. The person you worried about. The person you motivated. The person you cared about. The person you stayed up late talking to. The person you needed. But I’m not. I’m being replaced. I have been replaced. Now I’m the needy, hot, psychotic mess, who you think of as an after thought. I’m turning into the person that I see every day at work, who goes to great, dramatic measures to try to get your attention. Who ends up being the pathetic, attention seeking mess. The person who is now, never sure if you’re spending time with them because you want to or because you pity them and are afraid of what will happen if you don’t. Even when I do get your attention, I feel guilty. I feel like I manipulated you to get you to pay attention to me. That the only way you will notice me is if you feel sorry for me. I hate this. I can’t keep carrying this weight. I don’t know how to handle this. I wasn’t prepared to deal with this. I was blindsided. So now I’m hurt and bleeding and alone. But what can I do? I’m the one that hurt you. I’m the one that caused this. So I’m stuck. I can’t tell you any of this because then I am once again manipulating you and guilting you into to loving me and being my friend. I’m so incredibly hurt. Now, how do I fix myself?

How do I…

I feel like I’m getting left behind and replaced. I see people taking over my spot in relationships. I feel obsolete. I feel like I cannot handle life on my own, but I need to be able to handle it. How will I ever be able to be independent and meet my life goals if I am this dependent on others and this susceptible to hurt? I need to figure out how to fix myself. On my own. Without relying on others. How to be okay and not feel this hurt, alone and drained all the time. How to be nice to myself and not punish myself a million times over for every mistake that I make. How to not rely on other people to protect me from me. How to not push the self destruct button every time something goes wrong or is overwhelming. How do I do this? How do I protect myself from me? I do not know.

On Guilt, Perfection, and Self-doubt

Being raised in a conservative, christian, home school family had a lot of positives. If you had asked me a couple years ago what I thought of my upbringing, I would have only had praises and positive things to say. I would have spoke (with some pride in my voice) about how, compared to some of my peers, I knew how to run a house and knew various other things, I had life skills.

During the last year or so, I am starting to feel some of the long term effects of the culture that I was (and still am) a part of. One of those things that just hit me fully this weekend is guilt. I was talking to one of my friends about my super conservative aunt and my cousins coming for a visit in the next couple weeks, and how stressful it is going to be. Any down time has to be organized and managed. We could never just let the kids play. We need to make sure they are using their time productively and wisely. I was raised with a similar mindset. Spending time with my peers was (and still is) a waste of time. Only time with older people is profitable. I realized yesterday, that this is part of what feeds my guilt to this day when I hang out with my friends. I always feel like when I get home I need to do extra or something as a penance to make up for my ill use of time. I didn’t know what was making me feel like this until I was talking to my friend about it. Light-bulb. Of course that wouldn’t just go away after years of being told that time with peers is a waste and can even be detrimental. Feeling guilt with almost every decision you make is not only painful and exhausting but is so harmful. I believe that God didn’t create us to feel guilt constantly.

Another harmful thinking pattern is, that perfection is needed. I feel like the home school motto should be, “Perfection: not required, but strongly and forcefully encouraged”. I’m not saying that you should not push yourself to be the best person that you can be, but rather you should not beat yourself up to the point of despair if you don’t make the perfect dinner or if you cannot sew to save your life. All my life I have been taught, “others first, always”. No one, literally, no one can do that and still function and be healthy. Falling short of that makes you just like every other human in the world, not a massive failure. One of my best friends helped me realize that I beat myself up after every tiny decision that doesn’t turn out perfect. I’m not sure how to break this habit. It is consistently reinforced in my life. I get dressed in a way that I think  (and I judge) is modest, especially for church. The only response I get is that my shirt is to low after I pick my little sister up to try to help her with something. It is reinforced because I chose the medical field and want a career, where as my sister is studying to be a midwife (all natural) and wants to have a family. One of my brothers even get it. The older one has a solid internship, that will most likely will lead to a job. He will be able to support a family easily. My other brother has a passion to do special ops and he would be amazing at it, but he doesn’t know what he wants to get a degree in or what else he would like to do to support a family other than spec ops. He has fallen short. He doesn’t meet the standard even though he wants to put his life on the line to save other people, he doesn’t pass. The culture of perfection and of one life purpose fits all is stifling here.

The third one that I would like to address here is, self doubt. Because I am one of the rebel children (who sneaks to church and studies all weekend, party hard kids!) who doesn’t meet the standard of perfection, self doubt haunts me at every turn. Is education important? Am I just being selfish? Are my parents proud of me? I give myself pep talks sometimes that go something like this, “Most parents would kill to have a daughter like you. You are impressive. You got into one of the toughest nursing schools in the state. You’ve maintained a respectable GPA. You’ve gotten multiple scholarships. You’re wild weekends consist of studying, pizza and coffee. The majority of your friends are girls. You aren’t dating. The things you sneak out to do include going to church and a campus bible study or two. You’re a good kid.” If you asked my parents they would say they are proud of me (I think…) but they don’t tell me. I need “words of affirmation”. But those words only come after a “talk” or if I am upset. So are they even real? Self doubt kills. It paralyzes you slowly but surely. I will find a way to take away it’s power.

There are positives to home schooling. A lot of them, but there are also some really damaging parts. Don’t let them destroy them.

On Attending Church

I get up every Sunday, as late as I can, because of a variety of reasons; I don’t want the weekend to be over, I’m not a morning person, and mainly because I don’t want to go to church. I’m not a bad person. I’m a christian. I believe in God. I believe that I am redeemed by Christ. But I don’t want to go to church. I go anyway. In my family you go to church. No matter what. We’ve gone when the snow was so bad that what is usually a 30 minute drive took over an hour. I’ve gone when I was breaking out in chicken pox (to be fair we thought it was a rash from stress). So I go. Every Sunday. I sit there. I try to ignore the tightening in my chest. The panicked feeling of being trapped. I go. Do I think think this is how I should feel about worshipping my God? No. I think it should be  an exciting, refreshing experience. Not a draining exhausting one.

So why do I keep going? My parents. I love them dearly. I live in their house, I go to their church. It was a revelation to them. They were so excited to find a place where they could grow and thrive. A place where they could call home. Through the years they have to the conclusion that this is the best church, not just for them but for everyone. If you don’t see the value in this of gathering (it’s very unique) you aren’t mature enough, you haven’t seen the light, ect. I’ve tried other churches (only on Friday or Saturday of course). I’ve seen them worship. I’ve seen their passion. I’ve seen their hearts. I’ve realized that they are not lesser christians. This gives me hope. Someday, I will find a place to call home for my spirit. Someday if I have children, I will let them find somewhere that they feel is best for them.

This I believe: God is all powerful and is present where 2 or 3 are gathered. 

Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma, 

Thank you for teaching me how to love people. You consistently showed me how to accept people, how to make them feel loved, and how to welcome them into your life. I always knew that any of my friends were welcome at your house anytime, even holidays when you already had too many people in the house.  Because of your loving actions and growing up around you, I too have started adopting my own strays and can’t wait to have my own place so that I can host holidays like you did. 

Thank you for telling me that you were proud of me. You were one of the only people in my life that consistently told me that you were proud of me and what I was doing with my life. You made me believe in myself. You helped me realize that I can do anything I set my mind too. That I am a strong independent young woman. That God has an individual plan for my life. That you were proud of my hard work, my grades, and my choices. 

Thank you for taking me clothes shopping when I was younger and making sure I had nice good quality clothes. You helped make me feel pretty. You always told me that I looked nice. Those words were so precious to a young girl who felt like an alien in her own skin. 

Thank you for being there for me. 

 

I’m going to miss you so much. 

I love you.

Dee 

 

Left behind

On Body Image and Self Worth

I am understanding why it’s so hard for me to deal with my body, why I’m so hard on myself. I’ve been on a diet or been strongly encouraged to be on one or felt like I should be on one since I was 12 or 13. I was a little heavy but I was also a kid. Being told that men are visually stimulated and wouldn’t want to marry if you if you were overweight or that you won’t get the best guy, when you are 14 is crushing. Especially when you are raised to believe that marriage is the best, most honorable career a women can have and that everything else is second best. Now that I am in my 20s, looking back I believe that those 2 messages are two of the most damaging things you could instill in a teenage girl, 1) you are only valuable if are slender and meet society’s “standard” of attractiveness. Don’t teenage girls have enough struggles with that thinking? Why would you reinforce that? 2) Marriage (living your life in complete submission to someone else) is the only way that you will feel fulfilled and be happy. Anything else is society deceiving you into thinking that you are happy. You become one of those poor, blinded, confused women. Again, how is this a good healthy, thing to tell anyone, let alone a teenage girl? She is not and will not be a complete person or her life will not be complete person until she find a man that she can totally lose herself in. Isn’t that exactly the opposite of the message that we want to send? 

As a young teenage girl, I heard these things. I believed them. I also believed that I was messed up because I wanted to have a career before I got married, if I got married (and that was a big if). I also believed I wasn’t attractive because of my weight and that I was ruining my future everyday I didn’t diet, everyday I didn’t lose a pound. 

The past year, I’ve been trying to change my thinking patterns. I am not messed up or broken, because I want a career. I deserve to feel pretty and attractive even though I am the heaviest I have ever been (thank you birth control and stress). 

It is not an easy change. I’m not anywhere close to being done. I still feel guilty sometimes that I’m not dieting. I count calories in my head all the time. I think I about throwing up anytime I think I ate too much. Sometimes I do. I still believe that an attractive, good guy won’t glance my way twice and if they do, they must be a perv or really desperate, because, I would never be someone’s first choice. 

Even now, when I feel pretty good about how I look, it’s such a fragile, delicate, feeling that is so easily crushed. Some people in my life (who I dearly love) still can only see the flaws, if a neckline is slightly low, if my hair isn’t a color they think is good, if something isn’t totally flattering. Some days it makes me cry, some days I couldn’t care less what they think. 

If I ever have daughters or young girls in my life, I will make sure they know that they are worth so much more than something to pretty to look at and to be married  off so that they can lose themselves in oblivion. I will make sure they know they can do anything and be anything if they work hard and are dedicated. They will know that people do care about more than just looks and that each person is beautiful in their own incredible way. 

This is how I will redeem my past and my childhood, by providing hope for the future generation. 

Disillusionment

I used to be a good homeschooler. I used to be a good Christian. I used to be a model daughter. Then something happened. I’m not sure what it was, I’m not even sure how it happened.

When I went to college I was determined not to lose myself to “the world”. I didn’t want to be another statistic for why you shouldn’t send your kids to college. I didn’t want to be written off. I was going to defy the odds.

My first full time semester of college was a blast. Learning with other people and having a social life? Hot damn! Sure my 17 year old sister was taking the same classes as I was and would comment on my new found friendship with a fellow homeschooler who happened to be a guy.

Fast forward six months. I am enjoying college as much as ever and even am proud to say I have a boyfriend. Sure I can’t talk about him around my parents, sure hardly any of my friends know about him but I have a guy. Things are slipping. I am becoming one of those people. One of my friends that my mom used as an example to warn me about. One of those girls who I’d have coffee with to try to encourage her to do the right thing. I wasn’t any different. Then the depression started to hit. Not only was I not a good daughter anymore, God had turned His back on me, or so I thought. I spent countless nights on the bathroom floor crying and holding a knife to my arm. Pushing it in just enough to leave an impression but never deep enough to actually cut myself. Even in self harm I failed. I didn’t have the guts to do it. Only to tell my boyfriend that I was losing it and that I was going to do it or that I wanted to die. The only relief I could find was being with my boyfriend, which led to more excuses, less time spent on homework and more lies to my parents and more guilt tripping from my boyfriend because I wouldn’t grow a spine and move out, all of this lead to more feelings of being a failure and depression.

Fast forward another six months. I was finding out that my prince charming (it sounded less worldy and in your face than “boyfriend”) wasn’t all that I thought he was, but I had given him my heart which meant I was never going to get that piece back (Boy Meets Girl, anyone?) and could never give anyone my whole heart so logically, I was stuck with him. I had made my choice and once again I was not going to be another statistic. My first college relationship would last. I was going to marry him no matter what, even if that meant moving to Texas to live in a trailer with his grandparents and dropping out of school. No price was to high to pay to not be a statistic. So here I was, my relationship with my parents in shambles. God? Yeah. Not really on good terms with Him. Good homeschooler? Not so much. I hated that I had been subjected to that. The one thing I had was my best friend. She was honest with me, but somehow not harsh. She got through to me. Literally the only reason I did not move to Texas was because of her. To this day I am so thankful for her influence in my life. She saved me from so much pain and ruined dreams. My boyfriend moved to Texas for school. I wrote letters in class instead of taking notes. My grades continued to be mediocre or worse. Then my parents gave me an ultimatum, him or them. Some how, even though my relationship with my parents was totally shattered, I chose them. Even now, I’m still not sure why. But I did. Enter major heartbreak, anger, some more lies, and eventually surrender. I still seriously thought we were together, only now we couldn’t talk, okay, don’t become a statistic. We can still make this last. Until the day of all my finals, a mutual friend texted me and told me that my boyfriend had a new girlfriend and that he was a jackass. I got out of my car, stopped crying, threw up, walked in to take my first final and then repeated until all of my finals were over. So there I stood, still not the good, model daughter that I once was. Not a good christian, in fact I really hated God, that day especially. And now to top it off, I was dumped, damaged goods. It did not help that I was crushing really hard on this catholic guy that I knew even though I was sworn to my first guy. It made the depression and the feelings of guilt worse. Not only could I not make a relationship work and I was used and damaged now, I was emotionally cheating on my guy. Three strikes and you’re out, right? I had them all.

Now I was trying to rebuild myself. Who was I? I was a broken, used, depressed, put in any similar adjective here, person. How should I redeem myself? How could I get my model status back? Fall in love with somebody else? Sure. Enter catholic guy. The perfect gentlemen. The guy who wasn’t afraid of my parents. The guy who my siblings and mom loved. The guy who knew how to handle almost all situations. The guy who treated me like a lady and made me feel like I was valuable and important. The guy who (though he did and doesn’t know it, helped me rebuild myself). Enter the perfect prince charming. No sneaking around this time, except in my head (Leslie Ludy’s books, anyone?). I was having an emotional love affair and giving more of myself away. More guilt, but no lies and no emotional abuse from this guy so not nearly as much depression. I felt loved and cared for and safe. Life was good. Fast forward. Things are good, in my head at least. Ends up he has a girlfriend and has had one for quite a while. Enter sobbing and telling my story to a guy that I don’t really don’t know (he will be one of my best friends eventually).

Again. I’m used and broken. But were we ever actually dating? This drives me nuts. Then the self loathing. Not only was I a sucker for another guy, he was catholic of all things. Good homeschooled, christian girls don’t fall for catholic boys. Good homeschooled, christian girls don’t have a chain of boys period. No good homeschooled, christian boy will ever want me now. Hell. God probably doesn’t want me now.

On the other hand I don’t have as many pieces to pick up this time. My grades are good. I have a supportive, loving group of ladies that I study with that are like second moms to me They get that I’m heart broken, they also get that finals are coming up and I have to study. During these study time we talk about everything. Life. Women’s roles. Religion. I learn that there are different types of christians and I like it. Maybe it’s more important to show people that God loves them than to show them where they’re wrong and how confused they are about God. Maybe God could accept the broken, used, messed up me. Maybe He doesn’t care if I’m the perfect homeschooler, daughter, christian girl that I once was. Isn’t that the gospel anyway? He takes something used and broken and renews it? Life isn’t too bad.

I’m still determined to not become a statistic. I will not lose my faith. I will not become too liberal. I will stay conservative. I will believe in courtship. I will follow my parents and obey them. I will not be crazy. I will only attend our church as it is the best and the right way to worship. I will of course homeschool my future children.

Fast forward. I have a best friend who is an atheist. I have another best friend who is struggling with their faith. I have other best friends that are rock solid in their faith. I’m just me. I don’t want to offend anyone. I’m not sure how to defend my beliefs but I think they are true, maybe. Then I start hard core struggling with my faith. What if there really is no God? What if my whole life has been a lie? What if nothing that I told was important, is important? The depression starts creeping it’s way back. I start cutting for real this time. Now I’m a homeschooler that cuts. That’s not supposed to happen. I’m a christian who isn’t sure if their God is real. That’s not right. And I’m a daughter who isn’t telling her parents any of that. Say goodbye to any chance of getting the daughter of the year award. Who do I go to? My friend that was struggling and decided for their sanity that they cannot believe in God anymore. They get my problems. I go to my friend who is an atheist. He listens and tries to help. Several months later, I go to my friends who are rock solid in their faith. They still love me and don’t judge.

Fast forward a bit. I’m here. Now. I am tired of trying not be a statistic. Yes. I still hate the idea of it but people are going to make statistics out of whatever they want and as I learned in my research class, they can make those statistics say whatever the hell they want. Who am I to fight it? Here I am. A homeschooler, christian, not so model daughter who is wondering if living at home is really biblical, if courtship is biblical, if modesty really matters (how is it all the girl’s responsibility?) basically I’m questioning everything I was ever taught was the correct thing to do. How did I get here? I’m still not sure but it was through slow disillusionment of my life. I’m never going to fit the mold. I can’t. I’m to broken. Does that bother me? Sometimes. Sometimes it really gets to me. Sometimes I still want to die. Sometimes I’m still so depressed I can barely function. Sometimes I still want to cut. But do those things define me? Not really. Does not fitting the mold ruin my life and my plans? No freaking way. It opens up opportunities for me. It allows me an escape. I’m starting to realize not fitting the mold may be one of the best things that has ever happened to me. The not ideal, disillusioned homeschooler, christian me.

Weighty matters

I have struggled with my weight for most of my life. While I was in my late teens, I got really sick and had a minor eating disorder. I lost a ton of weight and couldn’t seem to gain weight. A couple years later I gained all the weight back plus some. I couldn’t seem to get my eating under control. I am at my heaviest weight at this point in time. It’s really overwhelming and frustrating. I need to quit sitting on the sidelines wishing I wasn’t like this. I need to take action. Now.