Be Brave

   Life can be hard, we all know that. It's tossed me around my fair share for sure. I haven't had the easiest last couple months. Hell, if I'm being really honest, I haven't had the easiest last few years. But that's not why I'm writing this blog. I'm writing this blog because for whatever reason lately a couple words have really resonated and stuck with me. A small phrase that reminds me to keep going. A symbol of overcoming the things life throws our way. These two words are: Be Brave. As I've mulled these simple yet extremely complex words over in my head, I thought to myself - what does that truly mean to me, to be brave? Well, I decided to put my thoughts into writing and see what I find. To start out I went to trusty ole google for the literal definition. 

Brave:
     1. ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage.
      2. endure or face (unpleasant conditions or behavior) without showing fear.

   How cool is that? To face pain with courage and being ready to do so. To endure the woes this world throws at you without showing fear. Not to say you're not afraid, you may be terrified, but you're facing it anyway. What amazing strength lies in the definition of this word. 

   I think back to times in my life that I would consider myself to have been brave. Overcoming my struggle with an eating disorder. Realizing that asking for help isn't only okay, it's extremely courageous. I remember how scared I was to admit I couldn't handle something on my own, to "need" help. Only to quickly realize all the negative connotation this world puts on therapy is complete BS. Moving out at the age of seventeen. One of my hardest ones, pressing charges against the person who raped me. I hate that is a path so many people know. Forgiving that same person, so I could let go and move on. Another not so easy one, recognizing the emotional abuse in my marriage and getting myself out of it. I never pictured myself as a divorcee, that's not the path I wanted my life to have. But looking back now, at everything I've learned, I'm thankful for the strength it has given me. Writing and posting this blog. Loving and leaving an addict. Being vulnerable. Telling my five year old nephew his dad died from an overdose and turning the corner to hold my sister so he wouldn't see her cry. Getting diagnosed with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever last summer and despite not feeling well most of the time, still finding the good in every day. Being strong enough to see the good in people. Being brave enough to believe in them. Sometimes simply trusting a person, for me, is a true act of bravery. 

   I think that being brave can come in all shapes and sizes, choices, situations, you name it. So as I thought about these words and what they mean to me, this is what I have come up with....Being brave means being strong. It means pushing forward. It means not stopping, no matter what. It's putting one foot in front of the other when you don't want to move an inch. It's facing your fears head on with confidence. It's trusting yourself. Trusting your gut. Believing that you're going to be okay. It's seeing the silver lining in the middle of adversity. It's being at the center of a shit storm and finding a way to grow from it. It's taking control of your mind, your thoughts, your reactions. It's loving yourself. It's facing the world as nothing more than simply being you and knowing that is enough. Being brave is beautiful. Being brave is hard. Being brave is courageous. 

   That must be why these two words have stuck with me so much lately. They hold an infinite amount of meaning.  A definition that can be personal to each individual. One that can morph and change over time. An encouragement for any situation you may face. A reminder that you have before and will continue to triumph over any adversity placed in your way. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes growing up, "Never, ever, ever give up" And I think that's what it comes down to. Not giving up. Taking every day head on. Fighting, not to survive, but to overcome. Facing every day, ready to be brave. 

It's Okay

I don't blog too often, but every once in awhile something weighs on my heart that I have a hard time expressing any other way than through writing. Addiction has been something in my life my for a very long time. But I think as I grow older, I learn and experience new aspects about it.

I have written a blog about addiction before, but these last six months I think I've experienced a new side. One that hasn't been easy. The last blog I wrote, years ago, talked about rising above the addiction of a someone you love. So, I find it a little ironic that I still struggle with it. I guess that's why addiction is so tricky. I'm not sure anyone ever really "figures" it out. It's more complicated than that.

The last blog I wrote I felt like I had answers. This time around, I feel like I have no answers at all. I think I would be a much better writer if I could put even an ounce of the emotions someone who cares about an addict feels, but I think truthfully it's something inexplainable unless you've felt it.

What I've struggled with most lately is moving on. Not that I haven't taken steps toward it, but that it feels like it's leaving the other person behind. How are you supposed to live every day like your world is okay, when you know that theirs isn't? Does it make you a bad person? Even though there's nothing you can do? Even if you've tried it all? I haven't fully figured that out yet.

I guess at this point I'm not sure where to go. Maybe as I write I'll figure it out. Things I do know is that I am a patient person, to a fault at times. Isn't it odd that's people's greatest strengths are also their greatest weaknesses? Maybe that's the irony of life. I also know that I have no control over some else's actions, despite any effort I've put in. The shitty part is accepting that.

Life throws you curve balls all the time. Sometimes you dodge them, sometimes you don't. This one has me so hung up. For a little back ground, I grew up with a drug addicted sister. Pretty much all my life. I went through the lying, cheating, stealing - my goodness you name it. Somehow, years later, despite the knowledge I should have had about it...I found myself in love with an alcoholic. It's started off okay, it honestly started off great. That's the thing about addicts - they aren't bad people. In fact, a think a lot of times they have some of the greatest hearts out there. That's what makes it so freaking hard. That's why you hang on, that's why you continually believe in them.

My boyfriend and I broke up around six months ago. At the time it wasn't even necessarily because I wanted to, it was because I had to. The choices made put us in the situation and I didn't want to continually be second place to alcohol. Since we've broken up, his drinking got worse. Decisions being made were not smart. But somehow, I still felt a pang of guilt. Like there was more I could do.

I think that's where the struggle with moving on comes into play. It's such a weird thing to watch my life progress while his seems to be in pause. And even though I know logically there's nothing I can do, I still feel bad. I still feel guilty. I still feel responsible to do more. And the thing that breaks my heart the most is that I know I can't. I stand back and watch him hurting and I know there is absolutely nothing in the world I can do to stop it.

So again, we come back to moving on. I hate having to let someone go that I know is hurting. I hate moving on with my life like everything is okay. I hate having the feeling every day that they need me. It's enough to break a person. So how do we do it? I guess I'm still figuring that part out. But you know what, I also think that's okay. I said early that sometimes peoples greatest strengths are also their biggest weakness. Maybe it's okay that I have a kind heart. Maybe it's okay that I love hard. Maybe it's okay to wish the best for someone.

But at the end of the day I still have choose what is best for me. I still have to be strong. I still have to remind myself that I already tried it all. I still have to know it's not my fault his life isn't progressing while I try to move forward. And I absolutely have to realize that moving on IS OKAY!!!! I'm not leaving someone. I'm not giving up on someone. I'm not being a bad person. And I am most definitely not prohibiting their recovery.

I'm not sure this blog will find many people. But maybe someday, somewhere, someone else will read this and realize it's okay to move on. It's okay to be you. It's okay to progress. You are not leaving someone behind. Maybe someday this blog will find someone and give them hope. Or at least comfort knowing they are not alone. There is something powerful in finding an ally. So for anyone else out there struggling to leave, struggling to find peace, struggling to move on - maybe the reason I started writing this was to tell you and to tell me, that it's okay.

I Belong To Me

    I'm usually not this open, especially on social media. For an example, I was talking to a co-worker just last week and she still didn't know I was divorced. I'm not big on showcasing my life and I don't view that as a bad thing. However, as I was going through my Facebook memories this morning I saw a song I had posted six years ago today. It's called "I Belong To Me" by Jessica Simpson. Something about that post stirred something in me that I knew I could only express through writing.

    This world has thrown me through a whirlwind of hurt in the short time I've been on it that I would never wish upon anyone. A blog on that would take way too long to write, so I'll stay focused with the task on hand. As a result of my past, I tend to be guarded. I don't love often, but when I do - I love hard. If you have found your way close to my heart there is very little I wouldn't do for you. As I try to make sense of what I went through, I think that is part of the reason why I lost myself. I was unfortunately in a situation where my loyalty was taken advantage of by selfishness in an attempt to make me into a person I was not.

    This song today hit me for a few different reasons, but one of the main ones was that I posted it before I had even met my ex-husband. This is what I said "funny how when you're in 'love' you can morph into this unrecognizable person (as shown in the video). But honestly if you ever have to start giving up who you are in the first place, it was never right to begin with." I lost who I was through my marriage. How did I let that happen if I had all that knowledge? Shouldn't I have recognized the signs?

    I used to think the video to this song was weird. Now I can appreciate its beauty. I got to the point where I couldn't even recognize the person I looked at in the mirror. The happy, optimistic, fun, easy going Kristi was gone and replaced with someone who was filled with fear and never felt good enough. I think the series of scenes where she is in front of the mirror is so powerful. It reminds me of my post that sparked this blog to begin with- "funny how when you're in 'love' you can morph into this unrecognizable person." I think she displays this well. She portrays it in her video as a physical change, but all I can think when I watch it is how closely that represents how I felt on the inside. And then the end, the last few seconds of the video....when she rinses all the baggage off and comes up a new person. She maybe still didn't recognize herself, but at least she was ready to create herself.

    That is where I am at today and man does it feel good. I found myself in the middle of this song for so long. I used to play it in my car on repeat. At that point in time I never imagined I'd be at the end. Where I was rinsed of the emotional baggage and abuse and not only free but ready to be me. To face myself in the mirror and get to create a person that I love. It's been a journey to get there and not all the time easy. There has been many tears shed and grieving I have gone through. But I remember the day that it flipped in my brain. In my past there have been a few times I had felt lost, not sure who I was or where to go. I always viewed that as a bad thing. Like it was my fault and I should just have all the answers. Or at least be able to know who I was. That seems like a simple question, right?! This time around it was different. Being lost didn't make me feel bad, it made me feel free. Through all the hurt I had gone through and was rising above I was gifted with a chance to start over...and the bigger piece, I was strong enough to take it. It was scary to "start over." Divorced at 27 wasn't the narrative I thought my life would have. But I realized that wasn't my story and that wasn't what had to define me. I get to choose and create and be what defines me. And after nearly five years of emotional abuse and being made to feel small and inadequate on a daily basis I can finally say - I am loving who I am creating myself to be. I recognize and like the person I see in the mirror each day - which brings tears to my eyes just to type it.

    I've changed a lot over the last year and half, but in ways I am still the same. I still have walls up that I am working on letting down. I still don't let people in or love often, but when I do I still love hard. Through the process of creating myself I have also found that I have surrounded myself with people who do not take advantage of that. Rather than seeing my open heart as a chance to morph me into something I am not, they take it as an opportunity to lift me up. When I look around at the people close to me I am blown away by the caliber of my amazing support system. I am not sure how I got so lucky, but I truly feel loved - just for being Kristi. I am supported, encouraged and empowered on a daily basis, which is something I will never take for granted. As I bring this to a close I want to say thank you for all those people who have stood by my side through this crazy transition. As my life was uprooted and I was figuring out how to navigate through it. For giving me the courage to not only believe in myself but to truly embrace and love the person I have become.

I think the greatest realization and truest understanding I am coming into is that....I belong to me.

   
   

Why Do People Die?

   I have struggled with the topic of death for a long time, to the point that I have felt my faith on the subject has fallen short. Most of us have experienced death at least at some point in our lives. For me, I have dealt with it more than I would like. My best friend died when I was only 11 years old. She was in a fatal car wreck and the life of her mother was also taken that day. My sister had a miscarriage quite a few years back. The anger and confusion from losing a baby is hard to describe. My cousin committed suicide when I was seventeen years old. I could get into the feelings suicide evokes, but that would probably take up its own separate blog. And most recently my papa's life was taken by a very aggressive cancer, which is such an ugly ugly disease. Those are just a few examples of the more impacting experiences with death I have had, but as we all know there is death around us all every single day.

   The overwhelming feeling I have been left with after all of these though has been the same and that is the question of why? I have struggled with death for so long because I just never understood how God could let these horrible things happen. If he has the power to heal why doesn't he? If he has control over everything, why doesn't he stop things from happening? A lot of people say, "everything happens for a reason" and "it's just part of God's plan." I am sorry, but I think that is a bunch of bull. People may think they are helping, but I refuse to believe that our God is a God that would "plan" for my 11 year old friend to die by a car being smashed into a tree. Or that he intended for my sister's unborn baby to be taken from us before we even got to meet. I do not believe my cousin was meant to take his own life. And I certainly don't believe that God planned for my papa to beat lung and brain cancer only to be taken by a leukemia in his blood. But then I am left with the same question....if these things are not part of His plan, then why do they happen?

   With my papa passing recently, my struggle with this has really been brought to a forefront and to be honest I still wasn't really sure what I believed....until today. My pastor preached a sermon on death and he really helped something click. It clicked enough that I wanted to share and I hope you will take the time to read and share the experience with me.

   First off, death was not originally supposed to be a part of our world. When sin came into this world evil and death entered with it. "Therefore, just as through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and thus death spread to all men, because all have sinned" (Romans 5:12). It is a fact that we live in a sin filled flawed world and that someday we all are going to die. That doesn't bring much comfort in time of grief, but it is because of this that bad things happen. Sometimes, a lot of times, to the people who we perceive deserve it the least. However, I do believe that our God can bring good out of any situation if we allow Him to. We just get so caught up in this temporary life that we forget God's intention for us is so much more. We were not meant to live in this world forever....that is one thing I can say with certainty is how God planned it to be.

   The story our pastor used as an example was the story of Lazarus. Lazarus had two sisters, Mary and Martha. When Lazarus became ill they called to Jesus to heal him, but Jesus stayed where he was for two additional days before responding to their request. In this time, Lazarus died. When Jesus finally arrived Mary and Martha were angry. The way they felt, I imagine, is how I have felt in the past when I have lost someone I love. I felt sad, mad, confused. I wanted to scream at Jesus "WHERE WERE YOU?! If you had been here this wouldn't have happened, so the only conclusion is that you didn't show up when I needed you." In fact Martha says pretty much this exact thing. "Martha said (to Jesus) if you had been here my brother would not have died" (John 11: 21). There were many ways Jesus could have responded to this statement, and to be honest had it been me in His position I probably would have been a bit more snarky. But, our God is a God of patience and He calmly replied, "Dear Martha, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die" (John 11:25). Jesus is saying to Martha, don't you see? Your brother did not die. He is more alive now than ever!

   The greek word for death is thanatos, which means separation. Who we are isn't our body. Our spirit and soul are the makeup that comprise who we are, our bodies are simply their temporary home. To be absent from this body is not to be dead, but to be present with the Lord. We really do not die at all, we separate into who we are truly supposed to be. This is the version of ourselves God always intended for us to be, but through sin this plan was changed. God then found a way for us to leave this sin filled flawed world and join Him for eternal life in heaven. "For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have ever lasting life" (John 3:16).

  So that brings me back to my question of why do people die? Well, what I learned today is that no one really dies in the fact that they cease to exist...people separate from this life into the next because God is such a great God that despite our sins and the fact that we will always fall short, He has made a way for us to live perfectly with Him forever. While we are still left on earth to miss the loved ones we have lost, the day they die should be worth more celebration than the day they were born, for that is the day they begin to truly live.

Happy?!

Everyone wants to be happy right? It's what we all strive for. So tell me, why do so many of us find ourselves stuck? Unhappy with our lives, unhappy with who we are?

I think the answer is more simple than many people think, but often times not one people want to hear.

In a world where things are constantly handed to us I think we forget that happiness is not one of them. Very few people randomly fall into a joyous, happy, stable life by chance. Happiness does not come without effort.

Happiness comes by series of conscious decisions and efforts to make your life into what you want it to be. Happiness comes by choosing to receive God's grace. Happiness comes one choice at a time. Happiness is sometimes a gradual change. And happiness is something you can always choose to have.

I strongly believe that the most powerful thing in your life is your mind. Your thoughts, what you believe, this guides your actions and your actions make you who you are. The mind though, is a funny thing because it's always changing. The good news about this is that you can always choose how you live and what you think. Decide who you want to be and take the appropriate steps to get there.

So the next time you catch yourself complaining about life and pondering how unhappy you are with where you're at....remember that you are the only person in your life that has the power to change it.