Vulnerability

First Edition: Love & Family Concepts

This is a scary topic. To be vulnerable.

But I need to be vulnerable to myself. And more importantly for others.

I have problems… problems in all aspects of my life. You can name them:

  • Love
  • Family
  • Physical
  • Mental
  • Emotional

I kid you not when I say every aspect. And a lot of them are tied together.

Like Love and Family.

Tonight, I write about the individuality of Love and Family… Later they will be tied together because their relationship will be evident as I lay the ground work of why I am the way I am.

The concepts of my Love and Family is what I will be covering on this, now, early morning of January 9th, 2019.


I guess an important area to start is my love life. Especially when there is someone in my life who I do love. I mean I am listening to a playlist made about him as I write this, but I need to be honest. I’m scared. I am scared to commit to someone while all at the same time I dream of our future, and I only let one side-show. I let the part where I fantasize about our future show. But that will only last so long. I know myself better than anyone else, and I know at some point I am going to become overwhelmed. Scared that the judgement I am putting on myself will be the exact same judgement of other people. Most of all, I am scared, so scared, that people will judge my love. That is the most vulnerable part of me. I fortunately grew up with a mom and a dad, but I also grew up unfortunately with a mom and dad who did not love each other. I mean they did I am sure in the beginning, but not long enough for me to have confidence in a healthy relationship. I am terrified of public affection. Part because I did not know that growing up and part because of judgement. I do not feel old enough to be able to love let alone worthy of it, yet here I am loving someone or at least doing my best to love someone. I know from the bottom of my heart I love him, but he has to be too good for me, right? I have loved before, a very unfortunate love. But never this type of love. This love feels old. He is someone who I feel I have known my whole life. He feels like home. He is the only person I have ever felt confidence in. I feel confident in a future with him. But here comes the tragedy that reassured me that my life is in fact a tragedy. He says he loves me, but he was sure of leaving me just two weeks prior. This is all a hypothetical, him leaving. If he gets accepted to a program then he spends two years in Germany. A very independent person I might add. But he was sure of us breaking up. I had never seen someone more sure of something in my life. I had also never had tears well in my eyes the minute someone says just words. I guess that is why this is a tragedy. I do not let him know now that this affects me. I probably do this out of pure fear. Lose someone you love. It is scary and always sits on my heart. I am a tampered soul in love with another tampered soul. Tragic indeed.


I mentioned my family briefly in the first section where I talked about my tragic love, but it gets much more dicey than that. The supposed love of my life has not even hears the extent of my family life, nor have I made it a public ordeal. Heck, my best friend does not even know the extent. Only one person knows the entire ordeal and lived through it with me. She is no longer in my life and in fact hates me, but that is another story for another time. Back to my family story: I do not know when it began. Like my love, I was in the middle before I even knew it had begun. I guess my awareness came with age. I do not remember much about sixth grade except for the terribly embarrassing parts. I do remember seventh grade or at least that school year’s New Years Eve. I knew my mom and dad drank alcohol. Was I bothered by it? No. Did that all change? Yes. It was New Years Eve of 2012 just hours before the New Year 2013. My grandmother, my dad’s mother, had died the previous year, 2011, on New Years Eve. 2011 was also the year that saw my father get laid off. 2012 saw my father being unemployed. The past year had been a tough one, but little did I know the years to come would be even harder. My mom began to become a different kind of drunk also within the year. She was angry. To this day, I still have no idea why she was angry. All I know is that alcoholism runs in her family, my family. December 31st, 2012 gave me my first glimpse into what would be my life to this day. I had a friend over as did my sister, who is two years younger. We did an oh-so-cringy photo shoot in our basement which really led up to my mother screaming. Why? I cannot remember, but what I do know is she called the cops on my father. Why? For no reason other than she was drunk, and she did not want him around. The cops came. My first, but certainly not last, encounter with the police. She was isolated by the cops due to her unstable behavior. My father was the clear-headed one so he explained nothing was wrong but her. They were able to defuse the situation enough to leave. My friends had to witness it all. How embarrassing, but more so.. how scarring. Not to just throw in… the next day I started my period for the first time. Now that is tragic. But anyhow, this continued. The all too familiar drunken nights, vicious yelling, and visits from the police. It became the usual. It began to happen so often that only some experiences stand out from others. Like the New Years Eve story. And like her arrest story (to come another time). But one experience, or experiences I should say, stand out the most. This is not something I can pin point the beginning of, again, I was in the middle before I even knew it. She started to direct her anger at me. I became the easier target than my father. My father was still a target, but I was just the one that was a small, newly teen girl while he was a grown man. She began attacking me… emotionally and physically. I can recall one instance like it was yesterday… . She was drunk and yelling. For what reason? I do not know. Probably for a reason like “you are just like your father.” But I was standing in my doorway, I was the first room when you came up the stairs to the second-level. She came out of her room, the last room when you came up the stairs, and she met me at my doorway. Yelling. I recall my dad was laying in bed trying to sleep while she was her usual angry drunk. But there was something different about the anger when she approached me. This time it was like she did not even account for me being her child. Again, I was in the middle before I had known it. She had punched me in the face. More so head if anything. Still a closed fist blow. So hard in fact my glasses flew off my head and at least two feet across the floor. I ran bawling my eyes out for my dad to call the cops. That she had just punched me. He wouldn’t though. He did not want them to visit again. I do not know if I really to this day have 1) confronted him about this or even 2) forgave him. But that was not the end of the abuse. It came and went with her drunken nights, so I at least am grateful it was not consistent. What was consistent though was my plummeting mental health (more to come on the specifics of that topic later). I guess I was depressed. I refused to call it that then but again what else would you call self-harm and suicidal thoughts. I had cut myself from the seventh grade to the beginning of freshman year. This is the part that not many people know. I had two razor blades that I kept from anyone finding. They were hidden next to my childhood piggy bank. I would go into the bathroom and do what I felt I deserved. It was always somewhere no one could see… my thighs.. my sides… my upper arm… even my toes. I guess the worst it has been was when I cut completely up both sides of my torso. I refuse this to be who I was, but it was in fact my reality. I also remember the day I was going to kill myself. I had fallen out of faith at the time so that was not what kept me from doing it. What kept me from doing it was my dad and my future. I did sit there though on my bathroom floor with those damned razor blades that I had torn off of a shaver. But I had sat there thinking about it, crying hysterically. Just as I was going to cut my arms open I thought about my father finding me. That is what changed my mind. As I began to think about it, I decided I could not leave him the burden of my selfish desires. So I wiped my tears, put down the razors, and left the bathroom. I still had to live through my mother’s abuse, but I did so knowing that I rather have it that way then her taking it out on my father or my sisters. I had to make myself strong enough to take the blows, so the rest of my family would not have to. (The story of her arrest and restraining order fits in here) I took the blows even after my parents declared a divorce. I took on an even more important role of protecting my sisters. My father was able to get out of the situation by moving out, but I had to deal with it everyday. I say everyday because that is what happened. I was her personal punching bag. If I yelled back she threatened to call the cops or have me sent off to a mental hospital. That was the power she had over me. She was my legal guardian, I was a minor, and my father was too poor to fight for me. She would even sometimes actually call the cops, and no matter what I would tell them about how I felt unsafe. They would always tell me “She is your mother and had every right” and “If your mother keeps calling the cops on you then that obviously means that there is a problem here, so if it happens again there is a likelihood we will have to take you in” I resent the Olathe Police Department every single day for that. For not hearing my cry for help. For not seeing through my mother’s fake persona she put on whenever the cops would show up. For not seeing that she was lying straight to their face while I was telling nothing but the truth. For not seeing that I was sleeping in my car to escape my mother. For not seeing that the tears that streamed down my face were tears built from years of abuse. I resent them. I resented them till the day I moved out of my mother’s house. January 19th, 2018, I moved in with my father. Just four days before my 18th birthday. He had gotten an apartment that Monday just so I could move into a healthy space of our own. That is the day the physical abuse stopped. But as sad as it may be… the emotional abuse continues, and I am fearful it may always be that way. For she is a sick woman who needs help. But she first needs to see that she is ill and needs help. I pray for that day.


This family tragedy has made me who I am… for the better… and for the worse. I am harder to give love and be loved in return because of her. She has corrupted my image of self-love and self-worth. And that is going to always be something I struggle with. I have many cracks in my foundation, and I guess I am just looking for someone to not pave over them but to fill them with soil and grow flowers out of them. And I think I found him, but I need to do the same for him. I need to be his light just as much as I need him to be mine.


To Be Continued… (the mental health portion of my life that covers the remaining topics: Physical, Mental, and Emotional)

04 October 2018

Journal Entry:

I feel weird.

My spot on the track team has not really been a thing of respect. It makes me feel lesser of myself, but I need to realize that they are not something to let worry my soul. I am important to the team, and my position is valued. 

I pray that they open their hearts to what I have to offer. I may not be able to compete anymore, but I am just as valued.


“Life with God is not immunity from difficulties, but peace within difficulties”

– C.S. Lewis

 

“I want to be a woman who overcome obstacles by tackling them in faith instead of tiptoeing around them in fear” – Renee Swope

Forgive me Lord for I have sinned.

I turned a blind eye towards you for too long.

During that time I was impure:

I was vain, I lied, I stole, I denied Your existence, and I gave my body to anyone. 

I did not follow in the name of the Lord, I refused Him.

I spread not gospel but words of hate. The anti-gospel.

I lied to just about anyone. I thought lying is what everyone did, it was only human to do so. I failed to realize that this was done because of the sins Adam and Eve. That is why I was like this. I was the fallen mankind. 

I was ridiculous. To think about someone acting the way I did just baffles me. The names people must have called me. 

I am SO thankful to have let God into my life. 

He has saved me by opening my eyes.

I am forever grateful.


The high of my day has been the level of responsibility the coach has given me.

The low of my day has been the way my teammates have been treating me.

I am very blessed to have resolved all my troubling issues. The only problem I truly have is with someone as stubborn as a rock. To that I say, all I can do is pray that she finds the strength to overcome. The last thing I want is for her soul and mine to never be at rest with each other. I pray we can forgive.

Amen.

03 October 2018

Journal Entry:

Today, I am feeling relieved. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I cannot wait for Encounter tonight. I want to dive deeper into who God is to me because right now I know that He is what I feel in my heart. I have never read the Bible through, but I know what I feel. 

God is all loving and forgiving.

I am blessed that my heart has been opened uplifted by the Lord. 

I cannot wait for my best friend to give me my first Bible. It will truly have such an amazing meaning, and I am ecstatic about that. BUT

I have been rather stressed lately, so I am going to repeat and hopefully start living by not only the word of the Lord but also by something my Oral Communications teacher told me:

“To worry is to not have faith in God.” – Connie Eigenmann

and I DO have faith in my present and future. 


Something that has made me uneasy is that the boy who talked less of me, the boy who acts like my existence is not worth acknowledging, has led others to act this way towards me. He is leading a path of hate and unjust.

I pray that he opens his heart to God. 

I pray that the others give mercy in the words spoken about me.

I pray that everything figures itself out even if it hurts right now because:

“To be soft is to be powerful.” -Rupi Kaur

I pray that I live my life in grace. 

I pray that I live softly.

God has a way of working out all the bad that needs to be worked out.

I pray that I live my life from this day, October 3rd 2018, a soft, yet powerful, follower of Jesus Christ. 

He is my savior, and I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

From this day forward, I will let His rescue begin. I will work on myself endlessly, and I will never deny God to those who scrutinize. I will NOT deny His Holy Spirit. I will love myself, as I am an image of God. I am His creation. Jesus gave Himself for me.

I lay down my mercy

because I am His daughter. 

Amen.

02 October 2018

Journal Entry:

Hey, life sucks!

I guess I wouldn’t say sucks, but I am very stressed and unhappy.

The person I was into basically rejected me hardcore. He told me I needed to “figure myself out.” Which I did not know what to take from that. He also implied that I was not loyal and pure.

This hit me hard. I was completely taken back.

This was a guy I was very into. Which only leads me to make this assumption:

God sent him my way.

I believe He wants me to change my ways. He wants me to realize the path I was headed down. A path of impurity.

He wants me to do better, and He made me hurt to feel His love.

It took me a few days to realize this unconventional way of rescue, but I am so thankful that He gave me this chance to better myself from one year ago when I was dealing with almost the exact same situation A different guy that I was really into inevitably left me hanging which hurt me almost just as bad. That pain led me on this path of self-destruction, and it took this guys honesty. It took God’s plan to make it not happen again.

He knew I was not a woman of the Lord. He knew I have sinned in many, many ways which is why as of today, October 2nd 2018, I give myself to God. I will do all that I can to give my life to Him.


Another realization that came about was track.

During track, I got told that I may never compete again.

That is some crushing news for any athlete… It makes you realize that you never know when your last race will be.

While this is some tough news, I am thankful for the opportunity the jumps coach at Fort Hays State Uni. gave me.

When one door closes another door opens.

He offered me a position to essentially assist him. He said I could keep my athletic scholarship for the rest of the year, and then next year he would look into a non-athletic scholarship for me. He told me that he will keep me on the roster, that I would get all the gear, that I would assist him in meetings, and I would go to all meets that they had room for. He told me that he found me as a valuable part of the team, and I was too beneficial to the team to let go.

I am ever so thankful for the new opportunity, and that I was held to such a high standard by my coach.


These two events made me realize that I need to work and better myself in the name of God. I want to become a virtuous woman, and I know I can do it.

01 January 2019

How…

How is it possible to feel as if you have known a person for what seems like a  lifetime? A more mind-boggling question is… How can it feel as if this person knew you before you even knew yourself?

I had my heart-broken, completely shattered by my first love. That boy is someone who I thought would take care of me through the hardest parts of my life. He did so until he found someone else to. I thought I could never find someone again that could love me that deeply.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

This is the mind shattering part…I found someone who loves me more than I ever thought possible. I found someone who cares about me more than I ever thought possible.

How can this be? HOW did I deserve this?

I thought I had it figured out. I “knew” what I wanted and how I wanted it. The terms of my love were listed in my head with exact “requirements.” I was not going to let what happened to me the first time happen again. I even became bold. Not that I had not always been, but again… I knew what I wanted.

I was looking for someone who had just as much figured out as me. Not all but a sure enough amount. A sure enough amount to know what it meant to be capable of love. What it meant to commit.

I found that and then some.

I was in love before I even knew it. I had wanted a relationship of this exact substance and when it came along… It was too good to be true.

But true was it.