bodies.

recently i let reality set in that i am the heaviest i have ever been.

there are physical explanations:

desk job

sugar intake

tv addiction

and each of them can be changed, fixed, remedied.

and there is the emotional explanation:

a few months after we first got married, i had a miscarriage. it wasn't even a real one -- a chemical pregnancy that my body sorted out.

but even when you know what is really happening, you wonder.

my whole life, all i've ever really wanted to be was a mom. in the way some crave being a doctor or a writer or an artist, i've longed for babies.

and seriously, it tore me up to even wonder if that was a glimpse into our future. that someday when we really did try and were ready for babies, that maybe my body wouldn't be able to handle that.

it's an illogical assumption, but such is life with hormones.

it doesn't matter that my husband looks at me exactly the same way as he did nine months ago.

i have destroyed my body by doubting my body.

i can eat less sugar and work out more and change these physical elements. i know this because i have done it before.

but learning to love a body that has failed you (even when that failure is more made-up than real,) is the hard part.

and this is the tipping point where i say that i've had enough.

for me, the emotion fed the laziness.

but excuses don't equal change. only work -- physical and emotional -- can effect the outcome.

today, the healing begins. beauty is not in a number. beauty is not a title to be awarded to you.

beauty is found in the love you show yourself.

**i vow to never try kale chips or learn to love quinoa

when dating, when choosing friends.

you need a gardener not a florist.

a florist only picks perfection.
they cut you down.
teach you that you aren't adequate alone.
a florist will stop your growth, in fact they'll kill you slowly.

sure, it seems rewarding temporarily.
you might bring a smile to someone's face for a week or so.
when you're chosen, you feel special. nothing else in the world matters.
but a florist treats all the other flowers the same.
in fact, a florist ignores your individuality more than it celebrates it.

but, a gardener...

a gardener gives you their time.
they keep you nourished and strong.
teach you that you're worth fighting for.
a gardener will encourage life and tear down weeds that suffocate.

a gardener will keep you rooted and firm,
they'll allow room for growth.
even understand that change is normal; change is good.
a gardener might trim and prune you, but only to keep you from hurting yourself.

sure, a gardener can't always prevent the harsh, cruelty of winter
but they'll absolutely revive you in the spring.
a gardener delights in your happiness and health;
your beauty and uniqueness makes them smile.
their knees will be sore from praying and working on your behalf.

and gardeners don't ask for a thing.
they just want you to shine.

so, find a gardener not a florist.

and, if you can, be a gardener too.

crying.

epiphany on love.

You know that Ingrid Michaelson song? The one that was on that Grey's episode a while back; the one about snow. This one:


I was listening to it yesterday and had to stop my car because it hit me.

I love snow.
Snow melts.

But it doesn't matter how many times it melts or summer comes around, I still love snow.

It's almost like the snow being gone makes me appreciate it more.

Well, shouldn't love be the same way? It's supposed to be soft and quiet and unexpected.
It's supposed to shock and awe you.

Yes, sometimes it's going to fade. Sometimes the wind is going to blow it away.

But we shouldn't waste all our time being upset that it melted.
We should just be excited that it's going to come again. Maybe this time it will come faster and harder. And maybe this time it will stay longer.

Maybe this time you will be better prepared.

I'm trying to focus on the happy 'maybe's in life.

the long and complicated story of my recovery.

Today I finally reached the surface of the water; I took my first breath, and was filled with life once again.

As I work through the events of the past year I am overcome with the lessons I have learned. Overcome with feelings of love and gratitude.

There are two people who know my struggle. Not even my parents know, unless of course they are now reading this. I've given hints and passing sentences, but not details. I won't even attempt to do that here.

You see, eleven months ago I decided that I was going to end my life.

I wouldn't share this except that I feel it will help convey the seriousness with which I take the following. My reason for returning to this blog, isn't to discuss my downward spiral, it's to share my journey of swimming back up. To share the reasons why I can once again, call myself a dreamer.

The first flotation device I was thrown:
I had been underwater for a long time; I'd long since run out of oxygen. And then a boy named Nate showed up on my doorstep and told me so many sweet things. He told me sweet things and I, in my self-deprecating state, was less than sweet in return. I was down-right awful to him, actually. Mostly because I had such low self-esteem that I couldn't believe he meant the things he said, and partly because I had been a sincere jerk my whole life, and didn't quite know how else to respond to people.

But his efforts showed me that someone cared, and before that I had felt so invisible, so irrelevant. His kindness and forever-happy spirit showed me that I could make decisions to progress. I could kick my legs and fight to get to the surface. He unknowingly started pulling, while for the first time I started fighting.

The second flotation device:
I had made progress. Plans of how and when and where to end my life no longer plagued every thought. But after sinking for so long, my muscles simply couldn't fight anymore. I began to stagnate my ascent. I learned to fake-swim -- to look like I was working and happy, but still wasn't at all. At this point, no one knew of my struggle. I remember I was at church for the first time in months and people asked how I was. Each time I would enthusiastically reply that I was wonderful, that my life was lovely. Then once, after someone had walked away, I heard a voice over my shoulder. Riley told me that my answer was the most fake thing he had ever heard me say.

I was caught. Embarrassed and enraged and guilty, I hastily made up an excuse and went on with my day. But his blunt reaction taught me that I wasn't fooling someone, and that knowledge made me wonder if I was even fooling anyone. I could no longer fake it till I made it. I had to actually do something.

This is where the fight gets hazy. "Isn't it funny how day by day, nothing changes. But when you look back, everything is different?" - C.S. Lewis

All I know is that there was a lot of prayer. A lot of church. A lot of looking outside myself. A lot of kicking, a lot of screaming.

Mostly, there was hope:
Hope for air. Hope for happiness. Hope for good days.

I would pick landmarks and swim to them as fast as I could. Birthday parties, trips, and holidays. Anything that required celebration and was in the future. I started to make things exciting so that I would look forward to them. I listened to Dory and just kept swimming.

As I got closer and closer to shore, the water would get brighter and clearer. So many times I had thought I had broken through, only to realize that I was still amid a battle. But I could see things better, I could see how far I had come and finally I had something within myself to propel me forward.

Then there were two life vests thrown toward me:
Combined because they are brothers, Kyle and Nathan taught me that a person can be wholesome and pure while being outrageously funny and pleasant. They taught me that not all males are inappropriate. Not all males are jerks. They showed me what men act like.

These men reminded me of laughter. Of teasing and frustrated giggles. They have changed my perception of and  renewed my faith in marriage. After coming to dry land, I learned that I have a mountain to climb. But these two taught me that although it will be a difficult road, it can be filled with joy and lots of silliness.

Finally, there was learning:
I have learned that progress is progress and that is worth celebrating.

I have learned that the greatest gift you can give someone is the benefit of the doubt.

I have learned that celery is not poison, especially when it is covered in peanut butter.

I have learned that water doesn't have to drown you; that from the right source, water can fill you and lift you higher than you ever thought possible.

I've learned that there are men in my midst. Men that are clean and respectable and gentlemen and fun. Men that make me laugh. I've learned most of these lessons from men younger than me, but who have such a better grasp on life than I do.

I have learned that dating is the worst, but it is nice to be asked on dates nonetheless.

I have learned that I have an infinite ability to work. For happiness, and money and an education. I have power and means and time. Oh, how lovely the gift of time is.

I have learned that I can run, and I've learned to love the pain that comes after strengthening my muscles.

I have learned about all my flaws and imperfections, my tendencies to judge and gossip. I have learned that I can be tolerant and kind. I have not perfected this, but I am growing every day.

I've learned that JoAnna is the most incredible woman on the planet, and I am so happy to call her my beautiful best friend. I am so lucky to have had her by my side through this whole journey, and thank my lucky stars that she continues support me and offer her sunshine to me every day.

I have learned that dark days come to an end. That there is light at the end of the tunnel. You have to walk toward it though.

I have learned that no one can encroach on my ability to be righteous. No one can hinder me from pleasing God. No one can halt my journey. This makes it easier to move on, even when they treat me badly.

I have learned that lipstick isn't evil. It makes you feel fancy and grown-up.

I have learned that tears are healthy. They dry like raindrops, and are always followed by rainbows.

I have learned that you can cry a river of tears, but that you should probably build a boat first.

I have learned that Jesus Christ is the way, the light and the truth. He is the son of God. He is my brother. I have been a believer my whole life, but now I know the reality of His mission. He has given me a life worth living.

I have learned to forgive myself.

to the first person to make me better without changing me at all.

I'm going to go all sappy-girl on you in this letter; if I told you in person I'd probably cry and that's gross.
I just need you to know that you're wonderful:

When you got home from your mission, I kind of forced you to be my friend. And since you are a kind person, you didn't argue. I can't even tell you how grateful I am for that.

I hadn't been a good person for a long time. I was negative and cynical and selfish. And you just patted me on the head and lived your life. Soon enough, I started to notice how you spent your time and the choices you made. I saw how selfless you were and how responsible you were. I learned to trust you.

Which is pretty much the hardest thing for me to do -- trust people. But, time and again you proved that your actions matched your words. That you would follow through. I didn't trust myself, but I trusted you. I appreciate that you have opinions and goals; I appreciate that you don't ever conform for anyone. Because for pretty much my whole life, conforming is all I've done.

You taught me that my thoughts and feelings matter, because you always listened to my rants and took my side even though I am irrational and melodramatic. [And let's face it, usually in the wrong.]

For the first time in a long time, I feel happy. And I know most of that stems from the example that you've been to me. You are a lovely person and I'll continue to randomly show up on your doorstep with cookies, because you really have taught me to accept myself, to feel God's love, and to be better. And I owe you.

Also, I will totally beat down anyone for you because they're stupid and deserve it.

my husband is the best.

Today I was crazy in the biggest sense of the word. I was sick to my stomach, nervous beyond belief, and extra self-conscious. It was like being on my period but forty thousand times worse because it wasn't explainable.

There was literally no reason to be stressed out.

So I started making up reasons; making it all the more horrible.

Anyway, I'm frantic and near-tears all day and at the end of my shift my sweet, sweet work-husband told me:

"Wifey, when we get home I'm going to put all the kids to bed and I'm going to make you a candlelit dinner. And we, we're going to have a night to ourselves."

And even though it was a complete joke, and we're not even dating, it was all I needed to hear.

My panicked little heart calmed down. (Okay, I maybe almost lost it and started crying happy tears.) My breathing returned to normal and all was well.

Sometimes we just need a fake, at-work husband to remind us that life isn't as awful as our minds would have us believe.