How to Change the Man You're Dating

Now that I've got your attention...

In life, there are things you will never be able to change. Like the way the sky looks, the size of your heart, doughnuts and Chipotle in excess will make you gain weight, and OTHER people.

We suffer so much through the hands of what others do to us and lack the understanding that it isn't the other person that is the issue, it's us. We can't change them. They won't change for us and if they do, it will be temporary. Personally, I believe that it's a universal pain, trying to change someone so that they fit our mold. We push and pull, stretch in ways we didn't think we ever would, accept and deny problems we said we would never deal with, and begin to implement our own ideas of perfection on this person without ever clearly understanding our own flaws or the fact that perfection isn't exactly a tangible characteristic.

Recently (because my posts are always inspired by "recent events" in my life), I started to question some of my life decisions and personality traits. Had I made the right decision? Was I at fault for my failures in my marriage? Am I a horrible person? Is there a real reason to be hated? I started to look at myself through the skewed viewpoint of a person/persons that no longer knew me. I knew I had evolved, that my spirit man had grown to the point where he had almost collapsed most of my fleshly desires. I knew I could feel myself becoming more free in God and who I have become daily, YET, here I was doubting myself because someone else had APPEARED to make a change.

This doubt threw my mental stability into overdrive for almost a full 24 hours. THEN because God and I have this custom-made relationship and He always has a way of showing me things I need to see (and always without me having to really look for them)...I was sent a screen shot. Now, I know that in this age of technology everyone is screenshotting (that's a word now) their lives away, but I have to say, it's been a very useful form of documentation and a reminder to how far my journey has brought me. So, back to this screen shot. I know what you're thinking, "What was it?!" I'm not going to divulge that information (you'll have to wait for my book, heck, no one reads these posts anyway). However, just know that it was an IMMEDIATE reminder that no matter how hard we may try, PEOPLE WON'T CHANGE for us.

This is where my focus turns a little and to where I believe my words will reach the farthest (however "far" that may be).

LADIES, *types and deletes three sentences*
He's not going to change for you.
Point. Blank. Period. The. End. Thank. You. Good. Night.

Men are human beings. They make mistakes just like us. Yes, their mistakes are magnified because they seem to effect us (if we are related or invested in them in any way), but they make mistakes. The difference is that most men, not all, do not realize that they've made a mistake or that it's as much of an issue as you believe because if they did...they wouldn't have done it. With that being said, a man who continually makes the same "mistake" over and over again no matter how many times you've cried, threatened to leave, broke down, kicked him out (of your life or house that you pay for and he just crashes there "temporarily"), or told him how what he does "makes you feel..." THAT man has a larger issue than just that mistake. This is where things start to get difficult for us ladies because we are, by genetic make up, nurturers and fixers. We want to love and take care of this man and save him essentially from himself. Ladies, we can't do it. It hasn't been done. It may LOOK like you have, BUT (insert screen shot info here), he hasn't and he won't unless his OWN desire takes over, he acknowledges the issue and starts to REALLY evaluate his relationship with God.

Psalms 9:10-"And those who know your name will put their trust in YOU; for you, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you."

It is our job to pray for Him and most importantly, step back. Continually reminding him of his failures will only force him to focus on YOU and how he is making you feel instead of focusing on GOD and how he is making GOD feel. Because, let's face it, we are not as important as God (and neither is he) and that's the way it should be. Our spouse, love, courting partner, should not be seeking the approval of us, but the approval of God. So many relationships are having fictional family fun and perfection via social media and behind closed doors, dating apps, and Instagram likes, there are hidden monumental sized issues.

A man cannot be the husband/father to your child(ren) that you are trying to mold him into because God hasn't created that mold, you did.  If we really think about it; would we want a husband who is missing vital pieces that God was supposed to implement inside him? Would we want a husband who we've had to sacrifice our integrity for? Allow that man to seek God. Get out of his face and stop trying to force him to change for you, because it will never happen. Most importantly seek God yourself. REALLY seek him (I'll give you that info in another post). Because in the end no matter how many meals you've cooked for him, no matter how many pictures you've uploaded to social media, no matter how may likes you got on your profile picture, no matter how much his family likes you, no matter how many dates you've been on, at the end of the day, he's alone with his issue (and phone with a million apps and other women) and only God can intervene in his spirit.

Step back because this is the one time, you can't fix it, this is a man's job. HIS job.

Yet, here I am, healed

I write a lot about my ventures and mishaps with love, I am indeed a frustrated being when it comes to my interactions with this verb. Love has a tendency to do me dirty. He likes to push me into the mud and then laugh while he watches me try to scrub out his residue before anyone knows that I tried to entertain the little guy. For some reason, even though I know that there is a 60% chance that he will do it again 100% of the time, I can't help but want to squeeze Love's face and ask him to push me again, just so I can feel his touch.

Yet, here I am, content with myself and the woman I've become and in love. Yes, that little verb found a way to hold my hand and not run too fast or jerk on my arm too hard. I'm walking hand in hand with love and we've even managed to only step on each others toes a couple times.

I find encouragement in recognizing true love in other couples. I can always tell when a man truly loves the woman he is with (and vice versa). Being able to breathe in the same air as that couple always gives me goosebumps. There's just something about the unfaltering love that manifests between two people that it becomes so think and consistent that there is a fine line between it simply being in the air and getting stuck in my hair like a leaf surrendering it self to the ground on a fall afternoon. Recently I've had the honor of being the photographer for two weddings. After posting the photos for the first wedding I was told that "weddings are your calling" in photography. I was extremely honored by this compliment for two reasons: 1) it was given by someone I respect in the "photography field" and 2) it showed that someone else was able to see the love I so desperately made sure to capture, I had done my job. I used to loathe weddings because they reminded me of this idea of love that I had become jaded to. That out there all these other people were finding their "one" and I was questioning my own existence as ONE.

I didn't know that I was supposed to exist as one (first) because I was so busy trying to stitch two wrongs into a right. There's a saying that we don't know what we have until it's gone and I think by gaining perspective I've been able to see a different angle to that cliche. Sometimes what we HAVE isn't exactly what we NEED. God has a way of providing us with what we feel our hearts need in order to show us that He will, indeed grant us our heart's desires, but He won't allow us to remain plotted in soil where we won't grow. It took me a long time to see that where I had planted myself (where God had allowed me to plant myself) was NOT where I needed to be. I was trying everything, including fertilizing the soil with what others were claiming was organic and natural fertilizer, but turned out to be....crap.

So here I am now, still in the process. I'm not naive enough to believe that I'm perfect or that my healing is complete. I AM healed (don't get me wrong), but TRUE healing is a process and I'm okay with allowing God to take His time with me. All I keep hearing is Him telling me to have patience. I find it ironic because He knows I am NOT a patient person, but that's what He's been teaching me. My process is slow and intensive and methodical and precise because He can't afford to let me move. Just like a surgeon making the perfect stitches after an invasive surgery, He must take His time to make sure that NO movement will re-open what He has closed so purposefully. Does it make me angry? Yes. I'm human and I get mad because I want my reward now, I want to know that all this RIGHT I continue to try and do, all this passive anger I allow myself to endure is for a greater purpose.

Recently I posted of how in the midst of my waiting God has allowed me to "lick the spoon" while waiting on my perfect blessing. THIS is how awesome my God is. He knows me, He knows I need love, He knows how I need to be loved. After years, DECADES of planting myself in horrible soil, He saw it fit to lift me out (despite my kicking and screaming and plant me in custom made soil by myself.

The key theme here is that I was by myself. I had to learn how to function as a woman on my own and how to identify as the woman God wanted me to be. I found the answer to "Who am I?"

I am Dianna.
Warrior and Queen.
His.
A survivor and inspiration
I am not simple
I am not complex
I am perfect in His eyes
and that's enough for me
I am a woman
stronger than any man's abuse in my past
taller than any negative words spoken down on me
I am His

What to feel when you're being told how to feel about your divorce

What did divorce do to me?
Even though right now is where I would try my hardest not to insert some cliche line about hindsight and how one small decision can change your life, but in reality that's what divorce did to me. One day, in the upstairs bathroom one left behind cellphone on a bathtub side, my life changed.

It's been almost two years since separating and almost one year exactly that I've been half of a divorced party. Through my relationship with God, I've found ways to not only forgive him but forgive myself as well. It's a constant battle of letting go of guilt and shame and feelings of failure. During the process, little did I know that I would have so much alone time to reflect on what a divorce would really mean in my life.

All the wheels in my life had/have been spinning at once. Both my father and brother were sentenced to "hard" prison time, my issues with my father have been in the front of my mind every day, I had to let go of my ex and see him move on and love someone else, and I had to come to peace with finding new ways to address my once husband. It seems like such a small thing that we never think about. When addressing him to other people I felt this sense of failure referring to him as my ex-husband but calling him the father of my children made me feel like I was never good enough to marry him. When the water boils away, the residue of the issue is internal. I suppose I never felt good enough to be anyone's wife, which is one of the many reasons why I stayed married for so long.

Don't get me wrong. There were plenty of good moments in our marriage, we have two beautiful children and I learned a lot about myself and at the end, learned a lot about the kind of Godly wife I should have been. (Then maybe I could have single-handedly saved my marriage. See what I did there? I still think I could have done it). But when I'm alone, sitting on my couch alone and waiting for my kids to return to me; how am I supposed to feel?

Are we, as divorced and single mothers allowed to feel triumphant for releasing ourselves from a relationship that was volatile to us? Are we allowed to feel successful for raising our children? Are we allowed to fall in love again? Are we allowed to be happy? Are we allowed to move on with our lives without feeling guilt, like it's too soon?

I've come to the conclusion that there's really no appropriate and definite answer to any of these question. (Sorry if you felt like I was the holy grail of divorce answers for a second). The truth is, I'm still learning all this and as frustrating as it may sound, it's a day by day person-by-person decision. We all deal with pain differently and most differently from our ex's. What we may feel is appropriate or timely may be different than what they feel. The truth here, is that those right or wrong decisions can no longer be entertained by us (a couple) anymore. We're divorced.

Recently my mom texted me and instead of typing "divorce" she wrote "D." I know she was just trying to be sensitive, but I told her that it was okay to say it. I've learned not to treat people and things like Voldemort (that's the evil guy in Harry Potter whose name you're not allowed to say) because unlike Harry Potter, the less I called people and things by their names the less I faced them and the more power they gained.

I know my honesty tends to turn some people off of me and that's okay. All of this is just my truth, my rants, my small pieces of honesty for myself and hopefully somebody reads it and feels like for the few minutes that they are in my blog world that they're not alone.

So, "What to feel when you're being told how to feel about your divorce?"

Any way you want to.

Lost My Two-Step

Pslam 31: 1-2 -- "... I put my trust in you...deliver me speedily..."

Okay. For a moment, a long moment, I lost my rhythm, my two-step, my juice. I could feel myself losing it because I didn't quite feel like myself anymore. I was struggling continually to do my day-to-day functions. I was experiencing anxiety, depression, and loneliness (sometimes all at once).I prided myself on beating my own drum, creating my own lane (in life) and now, here I was, lost on a gravel road that was scattered carelessly in front of me. I was on a road that was thrown together by multiple people made from "should be's" and "stay here's" and "be this." I was stuck and scared and anxious and ready to quit.

No one knew that part though. I could admit to the depression and cocktail of emotions, but there was no way I was going to publicize the deeper issue: I had dreams of death and they were calming.

When I was younger I had no problem shouting suicidal thoughts from the mountaintops, I wanted the attention. Now, it's not the same. (Which is why my Facebook is currently deactivated and I write this under the safe thought that no one ever reads my blog). I want to hide. I want to be invisible. I wanted to shed the responsibilities and hardships and simply start over, but I knew I couldn't. My children wouldn't be able to start over and I knew God had given them to me to save me.

I felt ashamed. How could I praise Him, yet allow myself to feel so much pain and betrayal. Daily I was rejected and I had allowed that rejection to consume my life. It kind of still folds over me like a familiar blanket on a cold rainy day.

However:
Pslam 31: 7-18 -- "You have known my soul in adversities... my strength fails because of my iniquity... as for me, I trust in You... my times are in Your hand... let the lying lips be put to silence..."

The shame I felt eventually turned into self inflicted pain and I couldn't hold it anymore. Church had become a place of anxiety and as I watched my heart manifest into a physical representation, walk in suited and manipulative, I fell. I ran. I prayed. I buckled and fell execution style into deepest surrender. I couldn't hold myself anymore and openly admitted that I no longer was strong enough. I could NOT do it. The only thing left to do was pray.

This was two weeks ago.

I haven't stopped praying since. I am attacked daily. I am hurt daily. But I am saved and I am healed. This is the process. I don't like it, it's not comfortable, but it shouldn't be. If I were comfortable, then it wouldn't be a breakthrough. If this is what I have to endure to live a life full of love and free from confusion and anxiety, then I shall endure.

John 5:12 -- "He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life..Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us."

He shall be my drummer and I shall walk to His beat.

Because He Broke Me

You never know your strength until you are sitting across from your challenge, your adversity, your assumption for punishment and watching her eat a granola bar and call your children baby, watching her reach out and wrap her arms around your children. That’s when your strength is tested. That’s when you know whose “side” God is on. For the past few months I’ve found myself wondering that very thing as I stood in church and cried tears of defeat, frustration, agony, and heartache. I mean. What the heck was God doing? What was He thinking having me stand in His house and witness this almost twice a week? I would leave church feeling distracted, weak, and confused. I still get that feeling a couple of times, but today as I type this literally sitting in a foyer sunken into a brown leather couch and glancing across my computer screen at a woman who thinks she has defeated me, I am calmed, peaceful and slightly cocky because I know MY God. I know who He is and what He will do for me.   
There is something especially magnificent about the way God seems to hold my hand through moments when I try to fight Him off. When times like this happen, my flesh responds first. I want to throw my arms in the air, blaming my carelessness on the lack of His presence in my moment of weakness, hitting anyone in my way and simply watching the aftermath ensue. I had the right, after all, I told God I had enough and He continued to push me, He continued to test me and I told Him I was done. But I had no idea the strength that was built inside me and that had been growing through each moment of heartache. Each time I found another reason to grow weary, to be angry at Him for giving me a life that you only read about in self help books, He would allow me to cry, allow me to break and then place each part of me back together in His perfect way. Because of this I willingly allowed Him to continue to break me each time, I allowed myself to fall apart and would simply whisper “Why?”  
Of course, He never answered; why would He? He owed me nothing and like a stubborn child I would stomp my feet and scream at Him, “WHY?!” Turns out the reason is NOW. If He hadn’t allowed me to fall apart the way that He did, I would not be sitting here NOW. I wouldn’t be free NOW. I wouldn’t be breathing NOW. I wouldn’t be loving NOW. I wouldn’t be strong NOW. I wouldn’t be a prayerful woman NOW. I wouldn’t be thankful NOW. I wouldn’t be worshiping Him NOW. And there are moments where I still ask Him “Why?” simply because the level of pain I’m able to endure is at magnified (and intense superhuman levels that I am am just now acknowledging) and I anticipate He will test me more in order to challenge my growth. But each moment I ask this, I know this answer will always be “FOR NOW.”

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