Master of Failure

Disclaimer: I am feeling a certain way today. Possibly the most confused I've been in a while. Emotions are fickle, so tomorrow I could be writing in a different tone. But for now, this is a little bit of a dark place. So if you can't handle raw emotion or honesty, don't continue reading.

.....

I used to joke around that I was a Jack of all and master of none. I always seem to have my hand in multiple hats and spin each really well, but may not have maxed my skills in any certain genre. Recently I have found that I, Dianna Lynn Gray, am the Master of Failure. My failure varies from personal skills all the way to love. I have found I am on a Master Splinter level (that's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle reference) when it comes to how frequently and effortlessly I am able to fail at love. Now, this is where I specify. It's not necessarily that I don't know how to love, because I truly do. I have this extremely passionate, unconditional, and selfless love. I tend to hand it out like dinner mints at a parade. I become addicted to the feeling. Well, I am addicted to love (in all her glorious forms). I like to spread her all over my friends and children. I cuddle and pinch and hug and kiss and hold hands. I'm in all in kind of love(stress).

There's a saying that goes: "Many people love the idea of you but lack the maturity to handle the reality of you." That's my life. 100% applicable.

The issue here:
I rarely get the love back.

Sometimes I do. It's temporal. Like a true addict I go through withdrawals, I have a physical reaction and become emotional. All I want is my next fix.

This is where you should know that I come from a family of addicts. I was blessed to not have any of my childhood demons follow me to adulthood and I have no vices. I have no bad habit that allows me to escape. Instead my drug of choice is love. Beyonce stole lyrics from my journal because I sure do get drunk in love. The horrible fact in all of this is that I tend to fail miserably when it comes to the whole execution of love. I over think and desire these deep connections and I usually receive them. The difficult (and failing) part is when the united party takes a step back, well 300 steps back in a fast pace then turns and starts running and I don't even know what's happening. Before I know it, I'm lost in this maze of confusion. Where did they go? What did I do? Why does this always happen? *hold opens arms* Will they come back and hug me? There's a new generation of abandoners that I had no idea existed, but apparently I attract the species in my life (in all forms).

What I have come to realize is that yes, maybe it is me. I am possibly the world's most intense person in life ever to love. I can be overwhelming. I question anyone's ability to love me. I question words and actions. I doubt people are capable of fighting the good fight with me. I. DOUBT. PEOPLE.

What have I learned? I'm glad you asked.

I don't doubt God.
There has to be a reason He keeps allowing me in all my free will glory to make the decision to try and love people when I know all that is going to happen is failure. In the end, God will be behind me with open arms and a compassionate look ready to receive His daughter again because I went giving away my love in all the dark places. I can only find comfort and solace in knowing that He has a purpose for all of it and a plan. I can't doubt that. I can't doubt Him.

This is the only reason my soul and heart have been able to be even partially resilient. She knows that God has a purpose. My pains are lessons. My hurt is sacrifice. I don't quite know why He uses me as much as He does, sometimes it's quite irritating, Like, "Okay, God. Give a girl a break man." But He's persistent. So whoever you are out there, the person my hurt is sacrificed for. Hurry up and learn your lesson, because I'm ready to be loved.

Beautiful Grit

I saw her not from across the room, but sitting next to me on a bench as we waited
It's harder to observe a person when they're so close to you, but that's what I did
I noticed the braid in her hair was slightly more loose on one side and that she had bitten the edge of her left index nail off
I watched her pick at it as her knees started to bounce in anticipation
She had an alternating twitch of anxiety
I could almost see her nerves trigger each one
I could feel her heart start to pound next to me
I could hear her inhale and imagined her lungs thanking her for finally giving into a motion that should have been involuntary
Her skin was flawed with beauty marks and scars that seemed to tell stories
I was even more intrigued because she used her hair to hide them
She had a story
I wanted to ask
Instead I sat back and told it to myself

She fell in love young and he loved her for her battle wounds
the way the world quietly crushed everything she loved
the way she responded to being denied
the way her heart seemed bruised the perfect hue of purple and black
yet housed her greatest love for him in the darkest corner of everything he didn't know

She was misunderstood most of her life
never able to marry eloquent words constantly divorcing sentences in an effort to share custody of a poem
never able to make love to music efforts futile in a repeated dry exchange of fluids across her lips as she sang off key about a forgotten truth

She was flawed by her openess and scarred by her self inflicted pains of denial
a constant reminder of how tainted her memories would flow
undemanding of her attention until she was alone at 3am

She crashed into everything with a force mighty and unapologetic
for disrupting hearts and lives
for invoking thoughts
for creating fierce lovers
for creating an uprising
for initating evolution in hearts

She left them speechless, breathless and lost
without her to guide their thoughts
because without her their world was dim and shaded grey
without being able to peek at her flaws they only knew what they didn't know
that they couldn't live or breathe

Now I looked at her in awe of her beauty
the grit in her eyes
without knowing the truth cascading down her arm as she reached into her side
pocket
She took out a pen, black the ends chewed on and frayed
I couldn't look away as she permitted the ink to stain her left hand
Palm down she placed her hand on mine
and transferred her story as my own

Swollen Eyes and Red Lips

Through tears.
This post is made possible through tears.

We all go on small journeys throughout our lives and don't even notice the majority of them; not until it's time to say goodbye. Suddenly we're looking back and replaying memories and attempting to taste, smell and touch things and people who are no longer there. Personally, going from running a four person household to being a single entity for a month was a very obvious journey. Today, ironically a day of finalization (which is also the middle of the week...there's so much irony in my life), has me looking back on my journey. When I woke today, I had no idea there would be so much significance in the day or in the finality that it would bring. I find myself looking for closure in areas I know I may never receive answers in. I've cried, but not that snot nosed cry. Not yet. I have to wait because I know that once I start I won't be able to stop for a full day...and well, I'm a mom and we moms have to keep it together around our kids.

So tonight, all week really, I've been exhausted emotionally and physically. I have been drained and gone through so many multiple emotions (sometimes two within an hour). As I attempted to rest my mind early tonight, I was awoken by a nightmare. Not the kind that you see in movies, but your true real life nightmare. It woke me out of my sleep and I immediately found myself reaching out for a person in order to have peace from the turmoil this dream brought me. Literally, TWENTY-SEVEN unanswered phone calls and FIFTEEN text messages later (to one person) I began to realize I was doing it again. I was laying my joy and peace in the hands of another person. With each painful voicemail pick up my heart ripped. All those stitches I had been sewing in for the past few months began to rip. My heart panicked because she didn't know how to beat when I was cutting her open. I couldn't stop myself. I was so hopeful that the person I was calling would hear the desperation in my voice, that they would know my heart and would know I needed them. I cried out again. My cries quite literally went unanswered.

I was crazed, panicked, anxious, and in pain. Real pain. My chest caved into my ribs and I couldn't breathe. I was willing to take back everything and go back to monotony. I would shell up, stop writing, stop creating, anything to get rid of this feeling of death. I could feel my blood start to warm up in my arms. I laid in the dark with my eyes squeezed shut and began to whisper to God. I didn't ask why. I didn't ask for Him to do anything for me, I'm not quite sure what I whispered, but I whispered and whatever it was He heard it. Because I am His child and He created my heart, He knows that what calms me most is music. With my eyes still closed He created a song in me. It was one of those songs that you feel like you've known your whole life, but as soon as I opened my eyes, it was gone. The only thing I can remember is the word "Smile" being written over and over again. So many things began to manifest inside me, but all I wanted to do was dwell in the peace that He was giving me. Instead He kept my mind awake and now here I am writing this.

I share all of this because, as I said before, this is therapy for me but it's also my testimony. I feel there is no other true emotion than the kind you feel instinctively. My gift is creation/writing. I know that someone out there is awake right now, struggling trying to find peace as well. Tonight I rolled around in my flesh and pain and permitted myself to be human. Tonight God reminded me that He will give us what our heart desires. Sometimes it hurts and we're not prepared for that, or we feel we are and it turns out we're weaker than we thought. I was weak tonight. Probably the weakest I've ever been. I found no solace in people and when I tried to reach out the one person who was able to provide comfort for me before, I was abandoned. I needed that.

I needed to be reminded that people will abandon you even the ones who say they never will. We are an unreliable flesh and there is no louder rejection than being outwardly ignored during your lowest and most painful moments. I was allowed to feel and see this because God needed my attention. He needed me to see that HE is my father, HE is my husband, HE is my lover, He is my friend. There will never be anyone who can provide the love and comfort of my God. My relationship with Him was tainted because I've been angry at Him and didn't even know it. I focused so much on what PEOPLE were doing TO me that I had lost sight on what GOD has done FOR me.

I needed peace, but what I wasn't aware of was that I had lost it because I had given PIECES of myself away to someone who couldn't do for me what ONLY God can do. Tonight I take back my peace and pieces.   

Just Listen

Before you begin to read this, please know, this is MY story. I do not share because I want to expose anyone or anything, I share because this is MY testimony and how I heal.
Enjoy.

During my mini and struggling hiatus I have been receiving so much encouragement and at the same time have been struggling to encourage myself on some days. I think those are the day when God takes over and says, "Sit down, girl, I got this." Recently I've received a few e-mails from women asking me "How do you do it?" This question has been following me around for years. Most times I begin my answer with "I don't know" and then before I know it I'm uncovering relevant moments when God has not only carried, but fed me during times of spiritual starvation.

In response to an e-mail I wrote this:
"You're probably asleep and in my true nature I'm up thinking and writing. I've been waiting for the right time to be able to sit down and type my response for you. Your question actually helped inspire my latest blog post/book entry. I can't say that I've moved ON, but moved FORWARD. There's this saying that you can only move in two directions, forward or back. If you are still (stagnant) you are not moving. I refused to allow myself to stay stuck in a position of pain, misery and depression. Not to say that I didn't live there for a while, because I did. But eventually the pain inflicted from him breaking my heart was too much for me to bare. I couldn't handle the lies anymore. I had to move somewhere and backwards was not an option, so I decided to move forward. It has been one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made because I think of my kids, but I also couldn't allow them to see a mother who was miserable and always hurt. I couldn't allow my daughter to believe that a man should treat her like that or for my son to think it was okay. Now when it comes to finding the strength...it's a daily and sometimes hourly struggle. I'm still finding out lies that hurt me and I feel like I'm dying, but then I realize: "I AM BETTER THAN THIS." YOU ARE TOO. You have to encourage yourself, because you're all you have. At the end of the night when you go to bed it's you struggling with your thoughts and THAT'S when you hand it over to God. HE's there for you. I'm not sure how your relationship with God is, and mine is NOT perfect, but He has lifted me up EVERY time I've been weak. EVERY time I've failed. I'm definitely here for you. Encouraging/helping other women keeps me alive. I need you too. I love you girl. Please let me know if this helped at all."

After sending this e-mail I've been sitting, intensely allowing my thoughts to process and filter through my mind and heart. I am very careful about what I write and when. If there is one thing I have learned over this past (almost year), it's that my artistry and spirit are not purposed to damage, but to uplift. I was broken down so that I would know what it's like, so that I could experience first hand the different levels of pain and have a testimony of how I still thrived. 

It's. Not. Easy. 

I remember when I used to say "it's not fair" to my mom (complaining about heartbreak and why I didn't get to go gallivant outdoors), her response was always "Who told you life was fair?" I think about that often. We are handed certain tests and in the same sense when you're older, in a higher grade, and get harder tests; God hands you tests that are more difficult the more you mature in your spiritual growth. It's not fair. It's not meant to be fair. It's meant to make you grow. It's meant to force you to see how strong He has made you when others (including yourself) are telling you that you are weak.

I am not super woman. I don't have super powers or answers to all of life's problems. I can't heal you with my book or photos or eloquently placed adjectives and verbs. 
I can only inspire. I can only aid. 
That change you need? That strength you need? 
It's all inside of you, God placed it there, specifically for this moment. 
Close your eyes, breathe, and go get it.

Your One Great

I watched a movie tonight. A horrible, beautiful, manifested, realistic, depiction of fantasy and love thrown into 116 minutes of crying, over-sized sweaters, and horrible haircuts.
I fell in love.
I fought it. I truly did, but this wonderful suffrage reminded me of a "once love." The only time I've been able to look into someone's eyes (other than my children) and just be in awe at how much I love him. Because THAT kind of love is different from all others. It births itself in your core, deep inside your soul right next to your morals and the memory of how your grandma's house smells, and it lives there until the right person comes along and digs it out. You don't really ever realize that you're not feeling love until suddenly one day, you can feel everything.
You feel the wind,
you feel silence,
you feel the creases in the back of their hand,
you feel your hair move when you walk down the street,
you feel sweet kisses,
you feel the warmth of the moonlight and the cool breeze of the sun
you feel orange juice
you feel leaves falling
you feel everything
Suddenly, you know love.
You know it for all that it is in the way God intended it to be felt. He planted it in you and suddenly it's alive.
That's what this movie reminded me of. And now I'm awake, attempting to replicate a feeling that's been lost to me for quite some time now. Which, I don't even think it's fair to categorize what I experienced into a "feeling" because I experienced it more like a MOVEMENT. I was completely picked up and relocated physically and emotionally, in an unbelievable way.

Now, I grasp for romantic movements under the moon while I drive home with all the windows down and my arms hanging out of my sunroof. I allow myself to drift away during loud conversations because I've accidentally pulled a significant memory from my file of the "too much memory stored" bank in my head. I stop mid stride and attempt to shake away thoughts of hand holding.

I loathe love, but am completely in love and infatuated with it all at the same time. The most frightening realization is that moment when it's gone. Is that it? Do you only get one? Are we only given one great love in this wonderfully short period of time on Earth? What do we do once it's gone? Was that person our "one great" if they leave us?

My "one great"...well, that's an unfiltered story for my book and another sleepless night with the moon.

Worthy is the Lamb

Worth.
When promptly looked up on my handy spotlight app on my laptop, worth is defined as:
(adj)- sufficiently good, important, or interesting to justify a specified action; deserving to be treated or regarded in the way specified
or
(noun)-the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated
Taking these definitions into consideration, I have realized that self worth is not defined by how others value you, but how you intrinsically consider your own worth.

My life seems to be a constant movement of God saying, "If you thought THAT was hard, wait until you go through THIS." I've found myself questioning God and others with "Why me?" (even though I already know the answer). There is no one who could go through the life that I have gone through and still be able to thrive. Not my life. We are all given a life that is unique to us, to our souls. When God created us, He created us already knowing the decisions we would make, if they would be right or wrong. He also knew who we would hurt and who would hurt us. He allowed them to be brought into our lives, sometimes we welcomed these people too easily and that's on us. Because even though He knows all these things, He also gives us ways out. It's what we humans like to call "red flags." The moments God gives us clarity and we continue to allow the treatment because we don't believe we are worthy of better. This feeling of unworthiness is birthed through multiple circumstances. Maybe something happened when we were younger, a relationship that killed our hope, the death of someone we love, abandonment from family. The list of issues that cause diminishing worth can start small, but the truth is that it manifests into something greater than we are ever aware of. It sneaks up on us, it creeps up our backs and whispers in our ears as we ignore the events, they become white noise. We grow accustomed to the monotony circumstantial pain.

We sensationalize the pain and reinvent what we call it, "lessons." Because of this we willingly allow ourselves to be taught that pain is a norm. Our teachers (those who continue to hurt us) create lessons out of play books that have been handed down to them from those who have taught them about the lessons of pain. To them, our pain is normal. Days full of heartache are territorial and if we can't handle the pain; there's another "lesson" for that. We are trained that our perception of self worth is false and after years of painful lessons, we begin to believe our teachers. Pain is a norm. Carrying the burden of heartache is an expectation. Formulated moments of happiness are rare. Our worth is fictional.

The truth.
Happiness is not formulated, it is...
Happiness is
Gratefulness in the morning
Breathing in fresh air when you first open your door
Clean hair
Children laughing at your laugh
Soft touches when you feel you're weakest
Barefeet in sand
Warm blankets out of the dryer
Coffee in the morning
Cold sheets at night
A pillow that's "just right"
Being under the arms of someone who was molded for you
Knowing the flaws of your lover's face
Loving the flaws of your lover's face

The truth
We are all worthy.

Get Up Sucka

It's Father's Day. For me, a day to reflect, on probably more than I am ever ready for during this time of year. Summer has become bitter sweet to me. May through July have harbored some very intense and damaging memories for me (mostly caused by the men in my life). Today I woke up and part of me refused to allow this day to happen. I didn't want to recognize what others had and what I have been missing all my life. Like the true technology addict that I am, I pushed random buttons (or places on my touch screen) until my phone surrendered and stopped screaming at me to crawl out from my horizontal position in my king sized bed and deal with what life had in store for me today. Reality was waiting for me as soon as my phone recognized my thumb print (doesn't that sound so "Mission Impossible"?). Reality was waiting for me as soon as I reached above my head and pulled the light switch to allow a false light blind and trick me into the day. Reality was waiting for me as soon as I welcomed social media to grace my eyes.

I scrolled habitually as I watched strangers and friends wish their fathers, father figures, husbands, boyfriends, brothers, uncles, cousins, and play cousins a happy father's day. I felt a tingle of bitterness creep into my gut. That all too familiar feeling of angst where I wanted to turn the light back off, throw the black cover over my head and shut out the world. After all; who cares about how I feel anyway? I welcomed the self pity, for about 30 seconds. Then I remembered: "I'm Dianna suckas."

At church today I watched as two young ladies stood at the altar holding onto that same feeling I had for 30 seconds this morning. I saw it exude from their backs like steam off hot water. I heard God tell me to stand with them. You know what I said, "God. For real bro. I'm not ready for that. I can't encourage others like that." So I stood at my seat and listened to my first Lady tell her story. I heard God whisper to me again, "You better go up there and stand with them." My response? "God. My heart is broken right now. How do you expect me to help heal others right now? You better stop with all that." (Yeah, I talk back to God. It seems I still question Him openly, but the thing is He STILL loves me).  Finally I gave in, awkwardly I acrobatically squeezed passed three ladies to get out of my row and sauntered in between two hurting young girls, with my broken heart and steel arms I reached out and put my arms around them both. With out even thinking twice I began to thank God. For nothing in particular and everything non-particular at once. I stood, strong and stable as they cried and listened as they silently cried out for their heavenly Father's love. The only love that continues to heal my heart.

I walked away from that altar. Changed. Evolved. Stronger. Yes, me. Even stronger. Because the truth is, it's not just my father who has broken my heart. I've attempted to love men with that fearless and passionate love and it wasn't returned. I allowed the men in my life make me feel worthless while I broke myself to make them feel invincible. This time I walked away with a heart that may still ache, but will no longer be sacrificed. I walked away with my vision in movement. God revealed to me years ago what my purpose is, I've fought it because I was busy trying to make others happy. I was busy handing my heart over to those who would squeeze the life out of it. Then I would hand it back to God like, "Uh, fix this bro." The wonderful thing about it is that He would, without hesitation.

I couldn't wait to get home today and share what this day of reality has created for me. I've been bypassed by many people in my life. They've chosen to excommunicate me and ignore me, unaware of what they were cutting off. Unaware of WHO they were letting go. The amazing thing is that regardless of who allows me to stay in their lives, I am STILL Dianna.

My name is Dianna: "Divine. Mythological ancient Roman divinity Diana was noted for beauty and swiftness; often depicted as a huntress." Yeah, that's right. A huntress.  

When God made me, He installed extra layers of armor because He knew I was going to go through wars CONSTANTLY. He also knew I could handle it. He knew I was going to be stronger than the men who hurt me. He knew I would need rust proof armor because I would cry more than others. He knew I would need to look a certain way because other young women would need to see a woman who was a soldier, but could still keep herself together. He knew I would fight with my words. He knew I would love with a passion that made me fearless and at times stupidly fearless. He knew I would try to hide from Him. And over everything, He knew I would win.

He knew, "You're Dianna. Now get up sucka." (God and I have a weird relationship like that).
                                         

I am a scar.

Per usual life continues to throw boulders at me. At a time when a normal person would reach out and grasp for her nearest friends, I have chosen to seclude myself. It is most definitely intentional. Through out my life I have allowed myself to become dependent on others to maintain my sanity and happiness, as a result when said people leave, disappoint me, hurt me, or unintentionally anger me, my sanity and happiness are whisked away just as quickly.

Solitude will surely do one thing for you:
Force you to evaluate your life.

I am a thinker. By nature I question everything around me; why clouds are shaped the way they are, why certain horrible acts are committed against me, why I make bad decisions, why it seems I can't find love, why I woke up every hour and twelve minutes, why my stomach jumps into my throat when I see him. Imagine all of these thoughts at once (plus more that I won't bore you with). What would YOU do? Me? I shut down. Turn off the Dianna switch and go through the motions of life, suffering in silence.

It's not the ideal way to manage a crisis, let alone more than one. The one thought that seems to overwhelm me during this shut down time is; will it really matter? The "crisis." Is it really going to matter five years from now? My problem with this is that I only tie myself to people if they truly matter to me. I don't invest time into people or with people unless I feel that five years from now they WILL matter in my life. The trouble with being an adult is that we are forced to realize that some whom we've tied ourselves to do not reciprocate the feeling.

I have become expendable to those around me. I am a momentary high. I can't blame them though, I'm a pretty interesting person. My life is colored with hues of tragedy and I appear unscathed. It's when they are finally able to see me open and uncovered that the scars of my wars can be felt. Because that's what scars are. Wounds that have healed, but forever leave their mark. I suppose I am one large scar, walking through life healing people of their curiosity.

The most difficult part of this realization is finding a coping mechanism that allows me to still give pieces of myself with out feeling as though they have been stolen from me. I suppose my first mistake is being a giving person. I love others the way that I want to be loved, in their own language. I adjust to each person to love and care for them according to what they need. In this process as soon as that person leaves (especially without reciprocating the gesture) I feel robbed. Selfishly I feel robbed of a love that I know I deserve and at the same time robbed of a love that I will never know. Curiosity sets in and I chase.

When it comes to love I have no pride. I will sacrifice myself to the altar of cupid and allow him to shoot so many arrows at me that my wounds start to blend in with one another and I am just one bleeding carcass of love, hand outstretched waiting for someone to hold it again and kiss my knuckles.

I suppose that's where I'm at. I'm a bloody carcass. Gross, I know. But that's the way my brain works. I see beauty in damaged and broken (wild) things. I have to, after all, that's all I am. A once damaged and broken wild thing, just wanting to be loved.

Oh yes, it's getting greater in this piece.

Today, I woke to news that devastated my heart. Every day this week, I seemed to wake to devastating news. Today I made the choice, that even though my heart ached and my soul was lonely (feeling abandoned and cheated from a mate), I was going to worship and praise God all day. I couldn't allow myself a moment of self pity. I also chose not to believe the news. My heart and soul were given vision of my destiny and this news was not in line. I chose not to believe what was clearly in black and white in front of me, but to believe what God showed me.

Eventually, once my finished book is out in the universe, my testimony will told. All the unbelievable stories of my life will be unveiled. Even now, I wonder how I've made it this far. I'm 29 years old and have constantly been surrounded with darkness and tragedy all my life. How have I been spared? Why did He choose to save me? I ask myself these questions frequently. It's only been recently that I've been reminded of the strength I have. I'm sure if my emotional scars could combine with my physical scars, I would be unrecognizable. But God. He assured me that no matter the amount of emotional ripping away at my little heart, He would continue to heal it. I realized I was angry at God because I thought He had broken a promise to me, but He never promised to spare me from the pain. He promised He would heal me.

I am constantly taking inhales and visualizing myself reaching into my core to pull out strength. Now I know why God made me such a small lady. I'm underestimated in my strength. I'm underestimated in my abilities to break through and because of this my breakthrough only becomes greater. I've started to recognize the surprise in people's faces when they hear me speak. Little, quiet, reserved, over-the-top-with-the-sarcasm, strange and random Dianna has a big voice. My strength is more than my ability to recover from heart ache and pain. My strength IS my heart ache and pain. This little frame with a little more to love, can uphold the Goliath of heartbreak and more than that, I can live to speak about it. I can live to encourage others. I can live to encourage myself.

So today, even with my heart breaking and my soul asking questions about where Love went. Why it was abandoned. Why it has to stand alone until Love returns (because Love will return). Even now, this second, as I yearn for God to hurry up with the vision so that Love will understand how important it is in my life...I will smile. I will laugh my contagious and irritating laugh. I will encourage. I will not give up. I will not give in. I will not fall. Because when Love returns, I refuse to let it go.

All You Need is Love (?)

She's back with a vengeance (you would think).

Recently I've been evaluating love in my life. NOT my love life, but simply love IN my life. Well, maybe my love life as well. I'm an emotional person, somewhat impulsive when it comes to sharing my heart. After all I wear my heart on my t-shirt, under my shoe and plastered on my fingertips to be given away with every hand shake and hug. The most difficult part of this journey has been learning to love myself unconditionally. Finding that peace within that remains calm and joyous no matter the circumstance (or who chooses to love me back). I believe that as human beings, (especially women) we put too much value and expectation on others loving us in a way that we see fit. Therefore, when the love falls bottom-out and we're struggling to hold on and pull ourselves back up the cliff, we automatically want to blame the other person who didn't meet our love expectations. In the end there's no one else there to pull us up, no hand to help us out and that person who took away their love is definitely not coming back. Love seems to personify and leave us confused, hurt and angry. How dare love come in so swiftly and blow us off our feet? What was Love thinking when it said "I love you" and declared this stronghold on us? What were WE thinking when we allowed Love to enter our hearts?

The truth is, I believe we're all born with this Love trapped in our hearts and souls and it's not until we meet that ONE person, that it's unleashed. Sometimes we make mistakes and portions may escape, but eventually we realize that it's not right. Something feels off, we feel incomplete. So we move on and search for someone who can unlock our love. The mistake that women make is searching all of God's green earth with a backpack full of love survival gear and a flashlight shining light on even the darkest of corners in pursuit of that one person. What we've failed to realize is that under the correct lighting, the darkest of corners with the darkest of beings become an illusion of Love and brightness. Unfortunately, many of us don't learn of this wonderfully master minded trick until it's too late. Now we're trying to break into our own hearts to unlock Love with someone who doesn't have a key.

However, once we do find the person who unlocks our Love, it's an overwhelming intense emotion that knocks us down and smothers us with embraces and comfort. The air around us transforms every time that person is around. Our hearts react to even the small glimpses of their hands. It's enough to make us feel certifiably crazy. But of course, even this Love can be taken away from us. If this is true, then why risk it at all? Why risk the pain just to experience the fall?

Truly SHE is in There

For the past few months my life has appeared to be an uphill battle. The type of uphill that has hidden holes, rolling boulders, and fire pits that go off every time you try to sleep. I stopped writing publicly and started writing very privately in the middle of the night (a way to talk with out anyone hearing and in an effort to try and take some of the weight off my chest). A lot of my struggles have been quiet and internal, the kind that most people (especially women) are afraid and ashamed to divulge. Growing up I was forced to internalize most, if not all, of my emotions. I was trained to take emotional beatings while staring the man in the eyes, showing no emotional response and no reparations. I took physical beatings as a right of passage into the next year and sexual abuse prepped me for an adult life of accepting love in distorted forms. I was also trained to love (men) by showering them with gifts, sacrificing my happiness, and hiding my true self. No matter how many times I was hurt or how deeply the stabs would go I would somehow find a way to blame myself or justify the pain. After all, what is love with out pain? What is a life of happiness with out sacrifice? I convinced myself that the pain and lack of happiness was all a part of being a woman. I never knew a woman who was truly happy, a woman who didn't wake up and go to bed in pain and emotional turmoil because she couldn't be who she knew she truly wanted to be. The woman God called her to be. Because of this I lived in a shell, pantomimed my way through life with brief glimpses of happiness like appetizers in the meal of life, never to get the entree.

I've allowed men in my life to only give me small doses of love, never full cups, never quenching my thirst or filling my belly with the overwhelming love I know is somewhere out there for me. I don't expect those voids to be filled by a man, but by THE man. In my last year of my twenties I am finally seeing that I've identified myself by the men in my life. Who am I as a daughter? Who am I as a girlfriend? Who am I as a wife? Never....who am I? Slowly, I began to realize that who I am has not been fully birthed yet. I have been existing as a half-self only appearing as whole in small glimpses. As long as I wore a smile on my face, gave full hugs, and allowed others to gain what they wanted from me, no one desired to see me as any more than what I was. I want(ed) so deeply to flourish. To become this woman I knew was beating away inside me, but instead I was told that to be an "appropriate and great" mother and wife I would have to sacrifice myself. And that's what I did. Year after year, I willingly sacrificed any form of internal happiness so that those around me could be happy. If that meant me crying myself to sleep, I cried. If that meant allowing a man to lie to me, I believed him. If that meant accepting infidelity and multiple women, I looked the other way. Sure I made a scene, threats to leave, but I stayed. I rooted myself in men. I rooted my identity in appealing to what the "he" in my life wanted. I accepted apologies that never existed. I accepted the chaos and confusion. I told myself that my depression and pain was a phase and that eventually the man would change, but where did that leave me?

I waited on change that never came. I thought I could change the man, but really what God was trying to tell me was that I needed to change. I needed to allow Him to work in me so that I could see what He was trying to call me to be. I was so caught up in the pain and betrayal that I didn't see that I had lost my way and had ventured further away from God until it was too late. I'm not perfect. I made my own mistakes. I lost myself and struggled to find my way out of a possible destructive path, but with my one free hand, I reached up and God clasped His hand around mine.

I'm still on this journey. I'm still fighting up hill. I still struggle to see the good over the bad. When days are filled with tears and pain, it is difficult to see His face. I'm being broken down daily and searching for the woman God has buried in me, because truly, she is in there.