Counting Stars

Some nights I have this urge to go lay on this giant hill and look at the stars. But I need someone with me. Not to talk, or cuddle, or anything. Just to be there. And so here I lay in my bed wide awake 2 hours after physically going to bed. My brain on overload and no one to help me figure it out.
Sounds like I need a counselor right? I've known a lot of people who look negatively on counseling. This instilled a sense of fear of the whole process. I refused to get counseling when I was 13 and pretending like I had control. Again when I was 17 and refused to get out of bed for weeks at a time. And again when I was 18 and my world was falling apart.
But I finally got up the courage to go see someone back in August and September when I really felt like I would lose it if I didn't. Still I feel like its frowned upon. I feel like I look weak to certain people. Those people have not treated me the same since. And so now I sit here in a debacle. Do I go to counseling? Do I not? Do I get through it alone and wonder how long its going to take? And then there's the boy. Does he need to know whats going on? Probably at some point. Am I going to tell him? I have no clue. So I lay here. Wondering if he thinks I'm a baby because I don't like being home alone. Does he even care? Have I pushed him away? Does that even matter?
I'm 21 years old and I can't fall asleep when I'm home alone. Pathetic. I'm 21 years old, yet I cry by myself because I'm terrified for people to know how weak I really am. I'm 21 years old and I can't pull myself together. I'm 21 years old and I feel overwhelmed.
Its funny how 21 is both so old and so young. I am an adult, yet not all adults see you that way. I am still a child, yet I have more responsibilities than a child should have. Where did adulthood and childhood mesh? When do they separate? Who decided when children should take on adult matters? I'd like to discuss a raise of age to 25.

Hurt

The first time I was hurt, seriously hurt, I was in 5th grade. A girl in my class decided she didn't like me and no one was allowed to like me. I cried. I asked my friends why they didn't want to be friends with me. It blew over pretty quickly. But that was my first real taste of hurt.
The next time I was hurt, I was in the summer before 7th grade. My parents had stopped sleeping in the same room and I was caught in the middle of every fight, and every 3 am conversation my mom felt like having with her boyfriend (because for some reason my mom felt sleeping in my room was the best alternative). I found out how much of a coward my mother is the day my dad began showing us his new place and realized my mother had forgotten to mention they were getting a divorce. I can't pinpoint the moment when I figured out my mother had cheated on my father, but when I did I no longer saw her as a mother, only a monster.
At this point I began to hate my mother, my brother (who disagreed with the fact that I hated my mother), and myself.
The next time I got hurt was during this time where I hated myself. I was somewhere between 7th and 8th and I had a major crush on my brother's friend, who happened to also be my best friend's brother. I wanted to kiss him so bad. I never kissed him, but he taught me that I need to say no when I'm not ready for something.
After that I didn't let myself get close enough to anyone, friend or more, for a few years. Then along came my biggest hurt to date. I let someone in and it all fell apart. 2 years of love and then we fell apart. He knew of all my hurt and then he hurt me.
My next hurt came in the form of physical pain. I tore my ACL. I can say that it was the most agonizing pain physically and emotionally because I saw a dream slip away. And ever since then I've been working on getting it back. I fail and succeed and fail and yet I keep getting up.
Every one of these hurts I have lived through and pushed through. I have seen days where I no longer wanted to be the person who I was and I have seen days where I am so filled with joy I don't know how people aren't smacking me.
But then I had something happen that I have no clue how to move past. Its a kind of hurt that I can hide. Its the kind of hurt that people don't want to hear about because they don't want to imagine it happening. Its the kind of hurt that some people blame me for. Its the kind of hurt that I blame myself for.
The fact that I can't bring myself to write these words tells me that this is the kind of hurt that won't go away.
I was attacked.
I get immediately panicked when I write those words. I want to erase them.  I want to never read them or say them or think them again. I want to curl up in a ball and just sob.
But I can't.
Instead I must act as though it didn't happen. I must act as though I don't feel fear over powering me anytime that the sun goes down. I must pretend that I can confidently walk across campus or around the neighborhood without wondering if I'm being followed. I must seem confident and happy. I must do these things because if I don't then I am "playing the victim" or "being over dramatic" because it is "my fault". I have been forced to believe that I caused this. I have been forced to believe that it is not okay to talk about it. I have been forced to believe that I can't possibly still be hurting.

But hurt doesn't fade as quickly as it arises.

Life is a Journey, not a Destination

I feel as though I haven't made a difference in the world. And worse than that, I don't know how to make a difference. And just when I keep thinking that, I realize that I have. I see the difference that I make in the lives of the little girls I coach. To many people that may not seem like much, but you never know how that little spark can really effect a child. I've had multiple parents thank me for not only being a good coach, but for being good to their girls.
Growing up I always wanted to be a doctor of some sort. Do something that made a lot of money. Yes, I was that kid who wanted to have a lot of money so I could have a lot of land and a lot of kids. But that wasn't realistic. When you're in the medical field you don't have time to raise a large family, and I think thats been a dream of mine for longer than any other dream. All of my friends think I'm crazy because being a teacher, although it is my career choice, isn't my dream job. In fact, my dream job isn't a "job" at all. All I want in my life is to be a mom. Not a "mother" but a "mom" or a "mommy". See, in my world theres a huge difference. Most anyone can give birth and be a "mother" but a "mom" is someone who literally molds their child into the person they become. A "mom" is there to cuddle you and hold you when you get hurt and wipe away the tears and teach you to be strong. A "mom" makes the biggest difference in the world to her children. And thats what I want. That is where I want to leave my mark. That is where I want to shine.
Most of my friends don't understand why I'm ready for that to start forming. Do I mean I want kids right this second? No. But do I think if I was forced to be ready I could? Yes. Does that mean that I want a serious relationship? Yes, but with someone who I think could handle what I want in life. And honestly, theres not many guys that I know that are ready to be Dads anytime in the next few years.
But life isn't about getting to a certain part, because there will always be more goals, more wants, more needs. Life is about the journey you travel to get to those goals, wants, and needs. I keep pushing to get to this place that I am ready for, but obviously it isn't part of God's plan just yet.

A Rough Patch

People walk through life without realizing whats going on with those around them. I've known two people who committed suicide and I saw neither of them as people who were teetering that edge. So how am I to expect people to see the fact that I can breakdown at 2 A.M. over things that I am so very good at being over in the day light.

Tonight, as it has been on a regular basis for the last few months, the breakdown stems from how little I feel like I matter. Its not like I think everyone hates me or that I have no friends, in fact I've never been more sturdy in the fact that I have friends whom I can count on. Its more than that. After I got cut from the team I realized how I am not the best or even close to the best at anything I do. I have never been the best athlete no matter much I wish I was. I don't have the best self control. I am not the smartest person or else I would have gone to a school based on academics not based on the sport I thought I could do. And the icing on the cake, I am never the first choice. It doesn't matter if its a friend or a guy, there's always someone who comes before me or I'm just not good enough. I don't want to drink enough or I'm not pretty enough or I'm just plain not enough. And I have no idea how to shake that feeling. 

One day here, the next day gone.

Never has there been six months that absolutely tore me apart like the last six months. But I have also been put back together by some amazing people. In that time I lost the one thing that kept me sane, a little girl who could light up my day, and a best friend that I believed would be there forever. None of these things were lost in the same way but each has had a huge effect on me.
The sport that keeps me sane was the first to completely go. This was not the first time I lost this sport. The only difference is that before I had years that I could look forward to in a hope that I could try again. This time I had one year. I have one year left on my gymnastics clock. Imagine knowing you have one year left, but that year could be taken away from you at any moment. That is what I live in: a world where it doesn't matter what I do, this one thing could end at any given moment. I don't have an exact exit time at this point. It will either end in October, or it will end in March. I won't know until October. So why am I trying to come back when I figured out my life without the sport? Because when you truly love something, you don't give it up. I was in that gym everyday. I was with those girls at every meet. I still gave my heart and soul for that team. And although I often felt under appreciated or unnoticed, I know that I tried my hardest to come in that gym and still put my heart and soul into every girl.
The next was lost right after I lost my sport. Avery died on October 24th, 2013. It was not on that day, but a few days later that I decided to give my heart fully and wholly to trying to find my way back to the Lord. I don't know if anyone knows about that. Previously I had always been one to say I was religious, because I am, rather secretively. The fact that I was and am secretive about it does not come from an embarrassment, but rather from the fact that I want it to be more intimate. About a year ago I decided to get a tattoo that more prominently let people know of my faith. Its simply an infinite sign with the word faith in it. Avery's death solidified a new meaning to my tattoo. It pushed my faith even more to the forefront of my brain.
The last loss was of a person I believed I would be friends with forever. She had helped me through things that others had brushed off and even though I do not often mention it, I miss her.  Its hard to be able to miss her because I feel as if I'm not allowed to. No, I was not as close to her in some ways as Allyse was. But thats what makes it hard. Because I although I miss her, I feel as though I'm in adequate compared to her.
And this has been my biggest let down the past 6 months. Everything that has happened has left me feeling inadequate. Things happen and I just feel completely inadequate in every aspect of my life. I got three new skills in gymnastics but that wasn't good enough. I was there for Allyse through everything with Kelsey, but I still am not good enough. I work my butt off in school and coaching, yet I still feel as though my grades are inadequate and I never have enough money.
So overall the last 6 months has been loss after loss with me feeling as though I can't live up to any expectations.

Don't Rush Grief

There is absolutely no time limit on grief so don't rush yourself or let others rush you.

There's no need for a schedule. There's no need to feel rushed. There's no need to rush others. Take all the time you need to make yourself happy. Some people take a day. Some people take a lifetime. Neither is wrong. I have often been told that I can't be upset because what do I have to be upset about in my life? But grief can last years. Grief can sneak up on you long after you think you've overcome it. So why then, do some people not allow a person to feel grief? Why do some people feel as though it is inexcusable for someone to keep what is upsetting them inside of them? I thank the Lord for the people who believe in me and my grief and allow it to come and go as it does.

Everything in Stride

Everything that happens, happens for a reason. That's what people tell you all the time. Its what people think you need to hear when you're going through something tough. The past few weeks have been filled with more downs than I could imagine. Every way I turn I hear how "things will get better" and "it will all be okay." But sometimes things aren't okay for a long time. And I think sometimes it may be harder for other people to accept that than it is for the person involved.
For instance, my heart hurts. I don't openly hurt in front of others because it is my duty to be strong. My heart hurts for the loss of happiness. My heart hurts for the loss of a child. My heart hurts for those who have become so wrapped up in their own lives that they miss what is going on around them. My heart hurts for the girls who lost their love for the sport that made me so happy. My heart hurts for the family who loss that precious little girl and every single person who was affected by her death. My heart hurts for the sister who held it together when most people I know would have fallen apart. My heart hurts for the little boy who will have to be reminded of the little things his wonderful, beautiful sister did for him.
But it is in me to stay strong. And its hard to be strong all of the time.
But then something happens to remind you its going to be okay. And if I had posted this last night I would not have been able to say that. Today Avery said hi. I picked out a random skill card from our bin. It was hers. And it just reminded me that time is precious. Life is precious. And I needed that reminder. So I just want to say that, everything does happen for a reason. Sometimes God needs a messenger. Avery was that messenger. Sometimes you have to be reminded that everything could be worse. I'm just thankful that Avery can send me little messages still and remind me that everything will be okay as long as I remember God has a plan.