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.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
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 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).
Monday, June 9, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
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?
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)