All Of Them

I think of how homemade bread and fresh coffee make me breath again. I can see myself kneading the dough. My hands need to create. It's good for my soul. And I feel like an outsider looking in sometimes. I can wipe the fog off the window and stand on my tip toes to see her. The way she works. The way she stays busy. They way she remembers when she stops for even a second. The tears that come and won't stop. She works to forget. She works to please. She works to cover up. She works to figure out. She works works works. And at night she lies down and closes her eyes.. Sleep comes.. But there's no rest. Because somehow in her slumber she still finds herself working. What is she so desperate for? So much emotion that comes out with her words.. And sometimes no words. Just faces. Expressions. Anger. Bitterness. Grief. Sorrow. And bits and pieces of happiness. Joy finds her in the most unthinkable of places. And I feel like she's so unsure. But at the same time she knows. She doubts everything. But yet she continues on with confidence. I think she thinks she weak. But if only I could show her. How brave she is. She can't see herself. She thinks her hair is too brown. She thinks it's too straight. An d sometimes I think it's not real. I think we pretend that we love for others.. But it's really for ourselves. It's really just selfish. And I hate Christianity the most. I hate people who brag about their great righteousness. How helpful and selfless they are. I hate when people pretend to be affected by the tragedies of others' lives. How their hearts are broken. How blessed others less fortunate than them are to have them in their lives. They hand out gifts with a pat on the head. And they brag about how proud they are of the church coming together to "be Jesus" to those in need. I want to scream. Like I did when I was a little girl in my Sunday church dress. The way I despised the abundance of fake smiles. I want to push people and yell that it's not real! You're doing this for the wrong reasons! And I've done it again. I've lost her. The part of me who keeps it together. The one who is sane and strong. The one who swallows the lump in her throat instead of letting it out so vigorously that she sobs and rocks back and forth. I can't find her. Why does she leave me when I need her the most? It's like I'm watching myself ruin everything. I get upset and I throw fits. I raise my voice and I pull my hair. And I push people away from me. The ones that love me. I'm so afraid of being left alone, but I'm doing the pushing. I’m not being fair. Why can't I just be thankful? Why must I pick things apart? Why am I so insecure? Where is my brave confident self? She is much more fun. She is much more full. I want to be her. I don't want to be this thin papery self. I want to stand tall and have it together. I want to stay. I want to be by his side supporting and encouraging instead of strangling. And I want that for myself too. I wish I could get rid of this version of myself. I don't see what's good about her. She only causes trouble. I don't want her around anymore.







And then that day comes every year. The red, white and blue one. And the memories that I've stuffed away come rushing to the forefront of my mind, forcing the ache in my heart to once again swell and pulse. I'm not where I thought I'd be. In any way. And I joke.. But my number one lesson learned about life is that it sucks. It hurts. And nothing turns out the way you thought it would.. which may sound negative.. but it’s really not. Some things are better. And if not better, just different. The challenge is learning to let your expectations go and be OK. That's not to say that there aren't moments of sweet and happy. Laughter and overwhelming joy. Yes, things like love and happiness are feelings.. but more importantly they are choices. I won't pretend that I'm not a big disappointment to many people that knew me 5 years ago. They could all name things that they're proud of me for and things that they are not so proud of me for. To this day in fact. But I also won't pretend that the event that took place 5 years ago was the one that made me who I am today. The one that caused me to "run from god" as I've heard it said. No, this started long ago, with a little 5 year old girl in her favorite little shirt and skirt with cherries all over it. The one who played with baby dolls and pretended to be their momma. The one who loved nail polish and makeup. It started in her little heart. A wound. A message. A lie that she believed to be true from that moment on. I won't make excuses for my choices. And I'm ridiculously exhausted of feeling sorry for myself. This is a sad story, yes. But the truth is, everyone has one. I'm not the only one struggling to find the sweet in all this bitter. I'm not the only one who cries in her sleep from nightmares that I'd do anything to forget. I'm not the only girl who grew up tormented by a lie that was never ever true. I miss Jace. Those three words are almost funny because they don't even begin to paint the right picture of the weepy wound I've had since he left my life. Time does not heal all wounds. I'm convinced that this is a wound that will never go away. It's is a pain that I have learned to live with along with so many other pains. That is part of life. And it wouldn't be real if it wasn't. My cry last night and this morning was how I wish this wasn't real. I can remember the day and not being able to wrap my head around the reality of it all. The harsh reality. To this day I wake up sometimes and the breath is gone and I still cannot believe this is real.







And I still see her. That cherry covered little girl. Her hair pulled up in a ponytail with a red bow on top of her head and little white sandals. And I want to scream. I want to say "No. Not anymore. She's worth more than this. She's worth fighting for." And if no one will fight for her, then I will. I will fight for all of them. The 13 year old girl with her short spikey hair and awkward shaped body. The one who thought she was gross. Or the cute highschool girl in her team t shirt with face paint ready for the football game. The one who knew of days without worry. The one who couldn't understand why no one wanted her. I'm done being quiet. I won't stand by and let her be pushed around anymore. I won't let people tell her who she's supposed to be or how she should or shouldn't feel. I will fight for her. And I'm not weak. I'm strong. In my own way. In the way that counts for me. I'm so tired of pouring myself out and seeing the puddles on the floor. Wasted. Puddles of me. And if no one cares about what I have to offer, then I will. I want it. I want you. You're not gross. You're perfect. You're not a baby. You're strong. You're brave. You're the bravest girl I know and you're damn worth it. And I won't stand by any longer. I won't lay in the puddles anymore.