Dear Ex-Lover-friend-confidant-artist-poet

Dear Ex-Lover-friend-confidant-artist-poet,

I understand that you don't understand me anymore. It seems strange that in the midst of confusion the only time I was able to make sense out of things was when we were talking or laughing or writing or just being. You helped me understand love and that it was okay to be who I was truly. When I questioned my confidence you reassured me that I was stronger than those who tried to emotionally kill me.

Unfortunately in this strange and baffling age of technology and multiple ways of communication, we no longer share air waves or likes or moments of subliminal "I know you are still present in my life" exchanges. It's okay. I understand, but I have to let you know what you taught me.

True, I was a dis-proportioned, hurt, damaged, tainted and confused female being when we met. You found a way to befriend the muse inside me and I didn't even know resisting was an option. I willingly gave into the creative being you managed to break out of my veins and suddenly I found myself learning how to be inspired. My fingers seemed to grace a pen as though they were lost lovers and you had reunited them. I would stay up until 3am writing of my 3am thoughts and allowing them to get lost in hidden posts or the lines of my notebook. I fell for you. Strangely, you never seemed to know how I needed your presence (lack of a presence). Now, here we are. Missing wave lengths and I don't even think you notice. Which is okay. I've learned to be okay with that. Not because I have a "new love" or because I've failed at my "old love," but because you taught me that love comes in different forms and molds itself around different people. You taught me how to love you in a way that I didn't think humans could love...from a distance, abandoned and alone, but okay.

I don't know how else to express to you how much your brief (even though I thought it would be for a lifetime) friendship with me helped birth what was lost for so long. I will remember and appreciate you until my hair ages and my memory falls into the air that once held your voice. I hope one day, you'll catch that breeze across your neck and remember that once upon a time, a distant and lonely girl learned to love again because you showed her it was okay.
And I hope you're okay.
Are you okay?

Dear Antonio

Dear Antonio,

Last night, I realized something that I've tried to deny for the past few months. You helped save me. When you entered my life, I was on the verge of self destruction. I never admitted it to you because I wanted to be that woman who had her life together and who you could flawlessly love without witnessing the dirt on her hands. Our relationship came as sudden and surprising as a snowflake in June and ironically we were formally introduced in June. When we met, I never gave you a second glance. You were off my radar and honestly, trying to get to know anyone at that point in my life was the last thing I was thinking about. But there you were, unexpected and present in my life and neither of us knew what that handshake would mean.

When you approached me months later about dating, I was more than hesitant. There were so many things stacked against you and I knew that with my background and freshly healing heart, the odds would be stacked up against us together as well. It took me a whole day to even realize you were interested in me and I threw everything I could at you so that you would find me unappealing. Yet, there, in the midst of all my negative and amplified characteristics you said something so cliche yet so needed, "I could treat you like the Queen that you are. You could be missing out." I don't know why coming from you it was like I was hearing those words for the first time and in reality I kind of was. No man had ever told me I was a Queen (I knew it though). No man had ever publicized that I deserved better. Suddenly, there I was handing you my phone number.

Even though our love formed fast, our relationship formed slow. You were clear you didn't want a commitment and I didn't want to rush into an "official" relationship quickly. However, as soon as we had a conversation about informing those around us that we were dating, I fell for you quickly. My love for you was fresh and I didn't know how it would grow, but I knew that it would. We prided ourselves on our privacy, taking the time to have quality one-on-one time, and being purposeful in sharing "us" with others. Here I was completely out of a failed marriage and for the first time in my life I was not only witnessing a healthy relationship, but I was half of it.

Now...here is where you saved me.
At the hands of other people I was allowing myself to decrease and any time I began to doubt myself, you loved me without question. I need to explain to you how your love for me has changed my life. You willingly prayed for me and my kids at the beginning of our relationship. You reminded me to focus on God and took time to fast with me. You didn't have to, but you did. When I cried over the pains that other men had inflicted on me, you hugged me and apologized for things you hadn't even done. When I got angry and didn't know how to express myself, you let me be okay with just crying for "no reason."
You call. You set an alarm and wake up every morning just to call me. Your voice calms me.
You play with my hair. You learned to play with my hair. Even though you haven't quite perfected it the way my mom used to do it, your effort is enough for me to love you more.
You support me. You do more than support me. You've found a way to include yourself in my life, into what I'm passionate about and you do so willingly and without making me feel like less of a woman or less of a mother or less of a person.
Your presence reminds me that it's possible to to have a custom made love.
You make me coffee in the morning.
You make me coffee at night.
When you did something that hurt my heart, you genuinely apologized and made sure I would never have to endure the pain again, and I never did.
You go on walks with me (even if you have to walk behind me because I'm being stubborn).
You chase me when I try to push you away because you know it's not what I really want.
You accept my apology when I realize I've been an idiot.
You love me even when I'm cranky (which can be often sometimes).
You let me stare at the stars.
You were constant and imperfect. You made mistakes and taught me that being human is okay. You taught me that men could have pride and not be prideful. 
You held my hand.
When I felt like I couldn't hold onto life anymore, your hand was the umbilical chord to God.

 
All these actions, these verbs, are ways that you've loved me and your love helped save me from destroying myself.

God saw it fit to place you as an interruption to where I thought I wanted to be in my life. I'll never be able to clearly explain to you how grateful I am that you took a chance on me, even with seeing me with all my scars and bruises and baggage. Even my bad days are good because I have you. With you I have vision.
With you, I am home.

Finally: The Truth

A week ago God spoke to me so clearly about how He wanted me to use my gift of words. At bible study, I kept hearing Him say "Today is the day, it starts now, " and "Truth. All of it." It's taken me a full week and an opportunity to write for a local girls' healing movement to finally let it seep out of me the way He's asked. When I began to write this post for the "No Scars" movement, I was asked to write about how healing from relationships that have scarred me has helped me grow as a woman. I began to write very...passively. I read back over the colorful words I had crafted together and realized that this wasn't what God had instructed me to do. He had given me very clear instruction, so clear that the enemy heard it too and tried to shut me down through "family." So I deleted the FULL three paragraphs I had written and over three days managed to finally begin my journey into the truth of my life. My truth.

This is also the prologue to my book (or a rough version of it). I hope my words touch, move, and ignite you in ways that even I was unprepared for.

Read.
Enjoy.
Comment.
Share.
Repeat.

I’m 30 years old. I have two beautifully weird and unique children. My husband cheated on me multiple times, emotionally abused me (whether he knew it or not) and continues to verbally bash me. We are now divorced. My father is in prison for molesting a little girl and I mistakenly feel as though I could have stopped him, because when I was a little girl, he sexually molested me. I lied when I was twelve and said I had forgiven him, but in reality, I didn’t know what forgiveness was. I was beat, abused, belittled and abandoned over 90% of my life. Now, at 30 years old, I am the best ME I have ever been and I would be incapable of becoming this woman if my husband hadn’t repeatedly cheated and my father hadn’t molested me. God has given me this grand purpose to help heal the damaged young girls around me, to uplift through the use of words and inspiration and He knew that in order for me to be as open as He needed me to be, He would have to open me up. Yes, it hurts to be open and exposed. Because like a wound, I was open and exposed to the elements, but now… I have been healed and the scars left over from those open burdens are reminders that God chose me. Out of all His children, He chose to use me. At the time, I didn’t understand. How could He allow my father to visit my room nightly and tarnish my perception of love to the point that I was incapable of loving anyone without hurting myself? How could He allow my husband to bring another woman into our bed repeatedly and lie to my face? How through all of this, could He still put me a position where I wouldn’t leave my abusers? How could He allow His daughter to cry out to Him night after night and seem to ignore her cries? I was confused most of my life. Burdened with the idea that men only loved a woman if she did what he said. That our jobs as women are to give sexual pleasure and omit any personal hope of happiness. I lost myself in the men around me and the men around me were lost in the world. I was in a dark place and I was helpless, faithless, numb and unaware that any of this was happening.

I got pregnant at 21 (after a miscarriage at 17 and an abortion at 19). Did I mention I was lost? I was deeply in lust with my boyfriend and the idea that I would finally have a family. I agreed to marry before my son was born so we would have at least “done one thing right.” I had no idea how serious marriage was or how to make a marriage work. I had never recovered or dealt with the molestation from my father and at the time he was still present in my life. My husband knew of my past sexual and physical abuse and needless to say, had a deep dislike/hatred for my father. Meanwhile, my husband’s constant need to entertain other women had already begun. As a young, insecure woman, I ignored the signs began a cycle of forgiveness and excuses for my husband’s miniscule and growing exploits. After all, the way to keep a husband and his love was to forgive. Wasn’t that what I was told to do when I was 12? The two “most important” men in my life, the two men that were supposed to be constantly loving me had both began and continued to mentally kill me, and I didn’t even know it. It wasn’t until five years into our marriage that my husband slept with another woman. Just some random woman he met at a club while the kids and I were away at my little sister’s graduation. I didn’t find out until a month or so later, when the woman tried to contact him again. I broke. My insides, my chest, my heart, my soul, my self-worth, my mind, my hands, my entire being broke. The only thing I knew to do was “forgive” and move on “for the kids.” So that’s what I did.  I had no idea that I was now broken and functioning as less than half a person. I faked happiness. I posted pictures to social media of our perfect family; husband and wife, with two children (a boy and a girl), going to church, serving in the church, and living the best life. Behind closed doors I became mean, bitter and gradually detached myself from the people who were closest to me. I couldn’t let anyone know what I was slowly realizing; I was dead inside. The wounds of my past were no longer small stabs to my chest; my husband’s infidelities and lies had been the last fatal shot and I was dead. Over those first five years of marriage my severe Stockholm’s syndrome (an unhealthy bond with an abuser) to my father began to overflow into my relationship with my husband and I began to identify him in the same way. The more my husband misused our marriage, the more I felt he loved me. He would lie, watch porn, flirt with women, exchange phone numbers with them, create dating profiles, go to clubs when he was supposed to be out of town and I would get angry…and “forgive.” I didn’t know it then, but the more I was being hurt, the more God was exposing me. All this time I was forcing myself to have a relationship with a man who never knew how to love me while God was steadily waiting on me to allow Him to take over my life and love me more than any man ever could.

So here I am a grown woman, but a baby in my relationship with God. Even though I have been saved for years, it wasn’t revealed to me until recently the purpose for my pain and the magnitude of why I’ve been exposed in the way that I have. The unhealthy and tumultuous relationships with the men in my life have been the dirt of where my foundation was built. When a house is built the first thing the construction workers do is tear up the ground. They bull doze whatever building was already there, because it’s weak and needs to be taken down. Then they tear apart the ground, shovel and plow into the dirt and remove all the unwanted rubble. After all this is done, they grate and level the dirt before applying the stronger foundation. This is what God has done in my life, in any life of a young woman who has had to endure pain at the hands of an abuser, molester, cheater, liar, and/or fornicator. I was torn down because I was weak. I wasn’t going to be able to withstand or hold in the new spirit that God was going to house inside me. My shell, my THEN spirit was too fragile and ignorant to understand and maintain the strength of the spirit that He has placed in me now. During the tear down I was confused and angry with God for allowing me to be victim so many time, for demolishing my childhood. I blamed Him for so many things without understanding that He wasn’t at fault. But I’m human; it was the only emotion I knew. Looking back I realize that he CHOSE me. Out of all of His children, He chose me and set me aside to do powerful things and make monumental movements that others are not able to even fathom. He knew that none of that would have been possible if I was still the same fragile house I had become. From all of this, all this rubble and destruction, God was able to rebuild me more beautiful, spirited, and indestructible than I could have ever imagined. If I had a choice of going through it all again and becoming who I am now with the inspiration that has been rooted in me currently, I wouldn’t hesitate to welcome it all again.

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.