I'm a Christian who forgets to read her bible. I listen to mostly punk and alternative music. I love pink and sparkles, and I love black and skeletons. I'm half princess, half warrior, half rebel and half goody-two-shoes. I don't weigh myself anymore. I have sprained my left ankle 4 times. Prior to that, I loved to run and dance. I spend a lot of time in my room listening to music. I love math. I love science. I like to write, but only on my own time. I have anxiety problems. I think I might be a little ADD. I'm freaked out by being an adult. I refuse to tell most people the way I voted. Not because it would offend them, but because I have a right not to. I draw on things. I have scars. I have stretch marks. I bite my lips constantly, especially when I'm thinking or stressed. My therapy is music. I'm creative. I'm messy. I'm organized. I'm impulsive. I feel guilty. Sometimes I want to back out of things because I don't get what I want. I'm baffled that I am here. That I am the same person who I was years ago, but not. I'm the same entity, but I'm different. I just can't believe that my consciousness in my body is here and now. Things used to be different.

It's complicated.

Recently, I made what seems like the biggest decision ever: to leave the church I've been at since I was eleven.

I haven't told many people yet.

I feel really weird about this, and here's why.

I love love LOVE the youth there. Not for any trips or activities, but I genuinely care about the people. I'm maternal, most people become my ducklings. It freaks me out not helping them, even if my help was only an illusion in my own mind. I like to think I've played a part in the growth of some of them, and I really care for them a lot. I made some amazing friends even this last summer, and because college ate my social life, I already miss them. It hurts me to leave them, and I'm not going to sever all ties, but this is not working.

I haven't attended an actual service in such a long time that I literally can't remember. The two or three weeks per month that I'm not working with the kids, I sleep. This isn't the church's fault. But when I have gone, even just around the church for sunday school or before nursery, it feels weird. I don't feel like I fit, and I'm strangely okay with that. I don't feel the need to.

I care about the people. But the church doesn't feel like a family anymore. I feel so stagnant. Part of that is my rampant spastic tendencies which result in me being unable to sit still for the time it takes to listen to a sermon. Part of it is I don't have a church. I feel no drive to attend this church except for when I have promised to be there.

It's vital for a christian to have a church home. I don't know where mine is just yet, but I can pretty definitively tell you where it's not.

I feel much more comfortable at one church in particular. The church of misfit toys. The pastor has ADD, so he actually keeps up with my brain. But I don't have transportation there.
This other church has a great atmosphere, but I'm not sure about it. I'm going to work in their nursery at least a little, because they really need help and the kids speak the language I'm learning.

Maybe I'll go to misfit toys on Saturday nights, and Other Church on Sunday mornings. I don't know yet.

If you always do what you've always done, you'll get the same results. This is a very weird decision for me to make, I've never been in charge of my church attendance to this level before. I hope this church works for the people who are there, but it doesn't work for me. I will miss some of the people profoundly, but I need to be elsewhere.

Swan Song

This is the personal narrative I had to write for my English class.

I come from a musical family. I'm a singer, I always have been, and yet there was a very long time when I couldn't handle the thought of singing to anyone else. A year ago, I took a class that changed my outlook, made me face my fears, and brought my voice out of hiding.

I was in a bookstore when I first heard about the class. I was minding my own business when I ran into some good friends. Suddenly my friend Hannah was running her mouth a mile a minute, flailing her arms, and jumping up and down excitedly."You'll love it! You're a natural! And we're doing My Fair Lady which is like my favorite musical ever. PLEASE take this class." I smiled politely, said I'd think about it. "You can't think about it. You have to sign up, like, yesterday. You might not even get in this late. C'mon, you have to try!" Reluctantly, I got my phone out and signed up for drama right then and there.

The first day of class was awkward for me. It was a close group, and I was the outsider. I took furious notes. The next week, our teacher gave everyone a handout. "This is a part of your grade." she said as I started to read, "You won't be judged on talent, you'll be judged on effort and preparation." I felt a cold sweat on the back of my neck as I got farther down the page. Auditions.

I would have to give a monologue. Not a problem, a year of speech had made me comfortable talking in front of any group. I would have to sing for everyone – that was the kicker. I'd rather be naked in a crowd. The next days were full of stress and denial. I had other things to worry about and I made a point of being too busy to think of facing my fears. But as the deadline got closer I realized I had to get this done. So I started singing. Broadway, pop, classic rock - every song I could think of. I arrived at the notion that the only song I could sing well was an '80s song about teen pregnancy. This wouldn't fly with the group I was in.

So I stressed. I cried. I started to flip through my books, searching for a decent monologue to go with my audition – something I had forgotten was necessary because of all my stress over singing. I was in choir as a child. I've been on stage since I was two months old. And yet I was terrified, because I had hidden my voice away. My fear of rejection had completely crippled one of my greatest joys, for years. I could sing, but only when I was completely alone.

Finally, it was almost time. The night before class, I rehearsed with my sister. I fidgeted with my hands and gave a few false starts. I awkwardly introduced myself and I gave my monologue, talking quickly and gasping for breath when I needed it. Then I sang, baffled at how I sounded. I had thought I was comfortable singing with her and yet here I was, making only the faintest noise, blushing and shaking from my nerves. I cut the last note short and asked what she thought.

"You sound like a fish out of water. You talk like an auctioneer and try to gulp air." "What about the song?" "Laura..." She paused and looked pityingly at me, "I know you're a good singer. I've known you all your life. But I can't hear you! You need to be louder. And chill out! Tomorrow, pretend you're just singing for me."

I went to school the next day and spent all my classes completely on edge. Someone asked how I was doing and I started crying. I texted long-lost friends asking for prayer. And then finally, drama. When the teacher said, "We're going to do auditions for two weeks. There's way too many of you to fit in today!" I was relieved but unsure. I felt totally unprepared, but I didn't want another week of agony. I watched others audition, some beautifully and some timidly, and I started to relax. As class time came to an end, I just wanted to get it over with. Shaking, I raised my hand to volunteer. I wasn't the only one who wanted to go last. The teacher pointed behind me and said, "Your turn, Kelly."

I was relieved, and oddly disappointed. But seeing others try, and witnessing the encouraging reactions they recieved made me consider that maybe this monster in my mind wasn't so bad after all. Over the next week, I started to get more and more excited to audition. I practiced constantly. And the night before class, I changed everything. I changed my monologue to a poem I knew, and I changed my song to an old ballad. I couldn't believe how I felt - honestly excited for something that so scared me. I went to bed with butterflies in my stomach and woke up the next morning confused. Still so excited, but still so terrified. I went through my classes and tried to keep drama at the back of my mind. Finally, the time came.

I watched more people audition and tried to beam them encouragement from my smile. There was a lull in volunteers and, egged on by my friends, I raised my hand. My heart pounded as I walked to the front of the room. I looked around and saw the same encouraging smiles I had been sending to others. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And then, voice quivering, talking much too quickly, I blurted out the words, "Hi. This might be terrible. But you know what? Life is full of disappointments. You'll live." The class laughed, and I started to relax." So anyway...My name is Laura. I'm five foot nine. I don't care what size of a role I get, and I'm going to be singing "Your Song" by Elton John. So, yeah. Enjoy or whatever." And I started to sing. I tried to remember my old speech tricks- look at your audience, scan the room, and don't you dare fidget- but I couldn't help it. I played with a bracelet charm in my hand as I glanced around the room, before focusing on my teacher and then closing my eyes, only opening them again as I finished my song.

"'How wonderful life is, now you're in the world'- Oh my gosh I'm, like literally shaking. I feel like I'm gonna die."

And as the room realized I was done singing, they erupted into applause. I got compliments for my audition after class, even for months later, and even though I didn't get a singing part in the play, my audition still shines in my memory. It was a terrifying, difficult, and beautiful experience. I can finally sing again, for anyone, and that is worth every hour I spent stressed out and crying.

You don't need surgery/cosmetics/hairspray.

Hey girl. You, reading this. Hey! Stop reading this, dude. This is so not for you. This is for the ladies.

Well...you can stay if you want, I guess.
I promise I won't talk about tampons*

*Much. Also, that didn't count. But this does! TAMPONS TAMPONS TAMPONS.

Anyway... Hey girl!

You are beautiful.

Sasha, Esther, Sarah, Sara, Hannah, Jessica, Nicki....whatever your name is, you're beautiful.

You are all beautiful.

Whether you're a twin born in a pool or a photographer with fake teeth, you are beautiful.

I know this for a fact.

In fact, let me tell you a little story...

I used to hate my body. Hate is a strong word, and I mean every bit of it. I deliberately hurt myself. I did things so I wouldn't have to feel, so I wouldn't have to think, so that I could forget. Ever since I was a child, people made fun of me for my weight. And when I was a child, I had this neighbor...

They say people who were abused as children have more body issues; they hate their bodies because they feel betrayed, and they're very likely to be cutters (And vice versa, most cutters were abused).

Somehow I got it into my head that this happened to me as opposed to my sister because I was fat. If I was skinny like her, this would have never happened.

I started counting calories before I was ten.
Not obsessively. But that's still a lot for a kid.

When I was about twelve I started having food issues, nothing too huge. But in 2009 I started to really have problems. A lot of things happened that year. It's when I got started on antidepressants. It was a bad year. It was also the year I stopped eating.

Stopped.

I ate enough that I obviously survived, but I just lost all motivation to eat anything.

I lost 30 pounds in 2 months.

Part of me just let it happen with no interference, I'd been developing this immunity to hunger for years as well as a strong willpower. Part of me did it on purpose. I got into pro-ana websites. I wrote down every single calorie. I would use pretty extensive math with the listed calories for a food and the estimated fraction of a serving I had had. I ate healthy food, but I ate a small amount of it.

And I was proud.

My stomach shrank. I was slightly nauseous all the time. I felt frail. And I kept going and going. I would choose not to eat when I felt ignored or angry, or just because. Some people have comfort foods. My comfort was my hunger. Knowing I was that in charge of myself, the feeling of emptiness.

But late at night, I would cry. I would pray. I was so scared to die from this. I was by no means underweight, but inherently this does damage to your body.

Somehow it started to dissapate, but I realized the next summer that I still had a problem. I was on a trip, and they provided meals. It really pointed out the oddity in how I was eating.

Sometime in 2010, I think, I started throwing up. On purpose. Big surprise, right?

The feelings I got from hunger, especially the feeling of cool minty water in a totally empty stomach, made me so happy.

I'm a pro at sticking my fingers down my throat.

Not long after I had started throwing up more regularly, I got baptized. That stopped me cold until fall 2011. Maybe it was the stress of a new school, my sister being sick...I don't know. But I started up again. I was so stressed out and it soothed me. It was the only thing. I burned my arm and felt nothing but aggravation. But throwing up, soothing truly is the best word. I sliced my leg up during a dance practice I was stressed about and I was able to get through it. I was good enough.

When I started throwing up more, leaving bible studies to go purge 10 feet away in the bathroom, God intervened. For 24 hours, I was really sick. Throughout the night I would wake up every 20 minutes, turn my head, and vomit.

If ever there was a way to turn me off of purging...

But anyway. Flash forward to tonight, September Second, 2012.

I don't do those things at all anymore. They don't even cross my mind. I am healthy. I finally believe I am worth anything at all. I believe I'm beautiful. I don't want to die, I want to use my life.

It is the strangest, most wonderful feeling in the world.

This summer I had the opportunity to go to a conference in New Orleans, one of my favorite places in the US. At the start, I prayed, asking for permanent change of whatever needed to change as opposed to emotional nights at the conference.

I got what I asked for.

I have barely worn any makeup since the conference. I've worn it probably less than 7 times since the end of June.

I eat when I'm hungry. I don't worry about what calories are in my food. I love to dance, I love to run. I do those when I want, and i figure the exercise and food will work out.

This year has been huge for me. I've found friends, happiness, and love. I am confident. I'm not awkward, I'm not cocky, but I am confident. It is the greatest feeling. It is completely new. I stand by how I act and what I say, take things back when I need to.

I'm not afraid.

I'm not afraid to sing, to share, to dance.

It is so beautiful.

And because I'm not afraid, nobody can hurt me. You know the Eleanor Roosevelt quote, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent? I believe it.

I owe it to Jesus. I owe it to my friends, my boyfriend, and beautiful ladies with curves. Beautiful ladies with rolls, even. I know so many happy, beautiful, and big ladies who love themselves. Thank you. Thank you for making me believe in my beauty.

Now, as for you, reading this.

You are beautiful.

Believe it, lady.

I don't care if you have to write it on your wall (I do!), if you need to take a long look in the mirror at all the beautiful things about you. Look into your heart too. Get a notebook and write what you love about yourself.

Oh, and hold out for a guy who sees that you are beautiful just how you are. You deserve it. My boyfriend looks at me with the same look in his eyes when I'm wearing no makeup with my frizzed hair in a bun, that he does when I'm all dolled up. It's refreshing. And it's beautiful.

No woman deserves any less.

Don't you dare let society, men, women, or yourself make you feel that you're anything other than beautiful.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Everything you ever

As I get older I keep realizing my past....inadequacy? I look back on myself a few years ago and wonder what I was thinking. I never outgrow the realization that I didn't know as much as I thought. Someday I'm somehow going to write about how when I was 17 I thought I knew everything. Everything in my mind is thinking that I can look back on this in a few years and think I wasn't a complete tool and yet there's nothing to back that up.
I guess that's what maturity is. It's like - forgive me - any rpg. When you're level one you're generally a dead man walking. You can rock at being a level one but you pale in comparison to people who are higher level, and when you get to level 10 you can go back to those things that slaughtered you and knock them right out. The issues I faced at 11 and 12 seem stupid now but they had me pretty worked up back then.
This is what I need to remember if/when I'm a parent. Sure, a baby losing their favorite toy is trivial in comparison to someone losing their job, but compared to that baby's life it's pretty huge. It's slightly complicated how security blankets work but in a nutshell their happiness revolves around that object because that's their anchor. No matter what confusing things happen (new people holding them, getting sick, loud places, getting tired), there's always this object with them and it makes them happy.
Middle school girls angsting about other middle school girls can feel just painfully stupid but, again, to them this is huge. They are finding a new peer group, they want to fit in but they also want to stand out. They're not a child but not a teenager. Kids can unfortunately be really mean to each other. And not all kids have white picket fence families.

This is what makes me wonder about where I am now. What am I doing wrong? I think I know a lot but what am I missing. I have problems that I'm working on but what if there's even more? I'm not worried about this, just curious. I've been thinking about love lately. But I'm not sure I know what love really is. When I was 12 I thought I did. When I was 16 I really thought I did.
I know what love isn't. I know that God is love.
In my 17-year-old naivete I think that's all I need to know. Maybe life will prove me wrong, but I hope not.

Review: Man Up - 116

My favorite shirt is a signed (by Lecrae) yellow 116 shirt, so it's not surprising that I expected this album to be good. Even I am completely blown away. The album is basically a big challenge to be a real man in Christ and I recommend it to any one who has ears. Particularly Christians, and particularly Christian men. It's rap, but it's really really good rap. It makes me quite sad that music taste might keep people from hearing this. It's very powerful. I'm not a man (Duh) but I find it spiritually challenging. Lecrae always has great theology (I don't follow the other 116 members as much but I assume they do too) and his music helps me in my life a lot. I can't stress enough how good this album is. I encourage women to listen to it not only because it's fantastic but because in seeing what a Godly man should be it helps to hang on for the right guy and know what to look for.

Because I can, I want to go through the songs.

1. Man Up Anthem - I swear I am going to go deaf because of this song. It is really, really good particularly when the volume is really high. It's high energy, the editing is amazing, the beat is solid, the writing is fantastic, and it has all these genius touches like the bells. And I'm not always the biggest fan of Trip Lee's style, but he doesn't sound so intensely Trip Lee in this song. You can tell it's him but it's not overwhelming.
2. Authority - This song is so solid. The whole album is and in every song it's amazing. It's got a great beat and great words. The scriptures say she is the weaker vessel. It's more like fine china - doesn't mean she's any lesser I love that line, because a lot of women are stunned by the weaker vessel verse and this is a great illustration. I've been meaning ever since I heard this song for the first time to write about it, but I really think they got it. My writing is concise enough I can't stretch that out to be its own thing.
3. Responsibility - this song has a relatively repetitive hook (i might have something against it because it's trip lee), and if you're not a rap person you really will hate it. Unsurprisingly, Lecrae's verse is my favorite. It's not my favorite track right now, but I think that later on I'll end up listening to it a lot more.
4. Envy - This one has a lil girl singing "I can do anything better than you" as a hook. She sounds lovely. I find it kind of distracting during the first verse but I love it in the bridge.
5. Courage - "I walk with the confidence of ten men only cause my confidence is in Him" Honestly this song makes me feel like kicking butt in some post apocalyptic wasteland. It's really solid and sounds kind of dark.
6. Temptation - Flee from it all, till I'm free from it all This song sounds so. so. good. It has a sweet sermon in it, the background is amazing, and it's another of those inspire you to be a good Christian song. It also tells men to stop blaming women for their own issues, and to respect women as well as sex. It's great because it can convict you, and you can jam to it in the car. Sometimes both at the same time (which is what I love about listening to Lecrae, but anyway)
7. Repentance - As I said, this isn't just about being a man this has to do with a Christian. The style is slower and it isn't as shockingly awesome as the other songs, but still very good.

in a whisper

Life is a challenge.
It's supposed to be.
Sometimes when the going gets tough you need a suit of armor to get through the day ok.
Because crying is messy.
Because hurting, well, hurts.
Sometimes you're barely surviving, even through all the strength you can muster.
But there's only so much you can do for yourself. And when you put up walls to keep pain away a certain type of pain sinks in. Cynicism, loneliness, anger.
I have this guard I keep up and I don't process a lot of things because they basically bounce off. I have bigger issues than that. But everything that bounces off just makes my heart harder and harder.
I wouldn't like someone to call me hard hearted. You can't force my shell off, I'm too stubborn for that. Rain, fire, tornado, hurricaine....If it doesn't kill me I'm not slowing down.
But a whisper...
That's different.
If you can get me to feel something deeply....
Whisper to me, touch my heart, and I start to feel. That's different.

God loves me. He will touch my heart, break down my armor, make me feel and love and see beauty, and it is a glorious thing.

From Juliet, with love

"So you come back 50 years later and skip all the messy bits?"
"Life is the messy bits."

 I want something wonderful and irrational. Something perfect in its brokenness. I don't want someone I tolerate. I want to be led, not manipulated.I don't want the ups and downs, spiking and diving....I want what's right. Someone who will build me up, who I respect.
I don't want to wear a shell forever.I want to be knocked off my feet. I want to wait. I want to believe in love. Fairy Tale, white knight love.
Maybe if I let my feelings out of their box...
I'm used to not feeling anything.
But I'm watching Letters From Juliet and I have this strange feeling in my chest.
Maybe feelings are good. I don't like the thought of my exterior being broken down but every time it happens, it's so wonderful. I have such sweet, wonderful feelings. Maybe I'm not such an awful old crab after all. Maybe it's okay to be vulnerable, to believe. Maybe if I fall, someone will catch me.

I realized during the dramatic, perfect kiss, I didn't feel the same awful dark way I had been.
Maybe the way to really survive is to stop trying to just survive. To just live. In making myself vulnerable there's a whole new store of strength for me.