Complicated

I was asked today by a guy I'm just getting to know what my family is like. I didn't know what to say. All I could come up with was "my family is...complicated" and then I just stopped. I mean, how do I explain that 90% of the time or more my dad is an emotionally abusive, man-chovanist ass who rules our house like his castle and treats my mother and I like his staff, or worse? How do I describe what it feels like to walk on egg shells all the time and why I can tell the second I walk into the house, just by the static in the air whether I need to make myself scarce for self-preservation or if I'm actually free to exist in my own house? Or that my mom, though I truly believe she tries to be a good mother, leaves me hanging out to dry to keep the family peace instead of forcing my dad to take some responsibility for his actions because she's emotionally burned out and as a result, I haven't had anyone on my team, coming to bat for me, since I was 12 years old?

And even if I could explain it, what man wouldn't turn tail and run in the other direction? Who would want someone coming from something so broken? Why does anyone ever want damaged goods? Why would anyone want to willingly spend their time and effort on someone who's already been made bitter and distrusting toward men to the point that, up until a couple of years ago, couldn't even be touched by them? Who wants a girl like that?

That's always been my biggest insecurity when it comes to guys. In theory, I want someone to love me so badly, to have that amazing man who loves me no matter what, eventhough I'm not perfect, and always will. But every time I start getting to know anyone, I get scared and I'm the one who runs. And, every time I have let anything start, I've been the one they don't pick. I put men off by acting all bad a** and independent feminist but on the inside, I'm still that scared little girl who's daddy never really loved her unconditionally like he should have and is still desperate to prove herself and terrified of being abandoned.

Who wants a girl like that?

Pride Inspite of Imperfection

Today, I am proud of myself. Now, that may not sound like much but for me, it's huge. It's huge because not only am I proud of myself in general, which is rare enough, but I'm proud of myself even though I wasn't perfect. Wow. To best honest, I can't remember a time when I could say "yea, a few things could've gone better but I'm happy with how things turned out. I did a good job even though everything didn't go according to plan." I'm the type of person who is driven and precise. This is a good thing, except when it goes too far. I'm a perfectionist, very much to a fault. I'm the kind of person who beats herself up over every mistake, be it big or small. I'm always the one focusing on all the things that went wrong instead of the ones that went right. I don't cut myself a break for the difficulty of a challenge or the amount of experience I've had or being out of shape or any of those things that I know play a part in a sport which requires a certain level of flexability and strength and just general cooperation from your body.

But today, I did all those things.

Today, for the first time in years, I really cut myself a break. I didn't just say those things for other people's ears or to try and convince myself to not be so disappointed or angry, but I really meant them. I looked at the big picture and the facts that I've only been vaulting for a little over a month with just once a week lessons.
Yes, I didn't make it onto the horse at the canter this time, but I've only attempted a vault onto the horse at a canter 5 times including tonight and I did make it once, actually on my first try. Eventhough we had two people check the surcingle knowing full-well I was vaulting on at the canter, they didn't adjust it properly so it slipped, which, my coach and many other people including more experienced vaulters, told me was the only reason I didn't make it on. At first, I was disappointed I failed again as I did in practice and in front of a crowd during a performance but after I thought about it, I realized that I did do my part at least better than before and that one of these days, just as vaulting onto the barrel with no tramp and without even hopping is so easy now, so vaulting onto the horse shall be easy as well.
Yes, one person in our triple forgot our routine but we recovered well and carried on.
Yes, I struggled with my single move at the beginning of our double freestyle routine but it's a hard move for me right now, even on the barrel because my flexibility just isn't there yet. Still though, I kept going until I got it a little and then allowed myself to move on.
Yes, I forgot to get on my knees to start the freestyle, but we hadn't practiced it like that, it was an after thought, and we weren't being judged so it just simply didn't matter.

Tonight, I was able to look at all the things I did right. I was able to see how far I've come in the little time I've been enjoying this wonderful sport. I am also able to remind myself to be patient and that if God is willing, which at this point I very much believe he led me to this knowing full well how much it would be exactly what I need, I will have many more years to study and perfect myself as a vaulter. I also realize that he has given me a natural gift for this in the way he made me and my body, as well as the gift of Frank, my loving coach who's style and personality are exactly what I need to succeed.

Frank sees all of his vaulters as individuals. He knows out personalities and responds to us accordingly. He can see when we're really trying and still not getting something right, he knows when we need to quit because our bodies have just given out, and somehow he understands what each of us needs from him in order to be our very best in every way. He is also the first new man to walk into my life that I trust to be there to catch me and am completely comfortable around in a very long time. I pray that one day I will be able to find a way to thank him for everything he's done for me and tell him just how much it means to me.

God himself made all of this possible and I don't believe I've ever properly thanked Him for that. Somehow He knew that this sport would be what I need to teach me about kindness, humility, self-confidence, trust, and courage, as well as how to be more asertive and how to cut myself a break. It's been very theraputic by giving me an outlet for my pain and anger and having a place for that determination, perfection, perserverence, and drive, and maybe most importantly for me, it's given me a way to gain the control I seek over my body in a manner that is healthy rather than distructive. It sounds silly, but vaulting gives me a way to access and process every emotion I have, especially the ones I tend to keep buried deep inside of me. I can truly say that this sport has changed my life and, I hope, made me a better person than I was going in.


"I will move ahead bold and confident, taking every step in obedience...."

True Love Waits

I often get inspired by shows or movies I watch or books I read. I think a substancial work of art in any form is truly proven great by being able to make the viewer realize something about life or about themselves.

In the second episode of the seventh and tragically final season of "Medium", the eldest DuBois daughter, Ariel, is preparing to leave for college and will be living several thousand miles away from her family (Phoenix to New Hampshire). Her dead grandfather comes to her (if you don't watch the show it's complicated so just take my word for it and go with me here) and warns her that she's so busy moving on to the next chapter in her life that she's neglecting to see what it's doing to her younger sister. Ariel assumes he is refering to the youngest, Marie, who is obviously worried about her sister leaving and will miss her. It's almost too late before she realizes that the pesky and seemingly nochalant middle child, Bridgette, is the true cause for his concern. The morning of her departure, Ariel wakes Bridgette up and lets her know that she can keep pretending she doesn't care that her sister is leaving but that she knows better and will miss her very much and loves her very much. She keeps her room but allows Bridge to sleep in it instead of giving it to her to show her that her big sister will always have a place in their family and that she'll always come home.

Now, you may be thinking that this goes very well with my previous post about my sister's marriage which is now less than two weeks away but to be honest I didn't even think of this until after I had already started writing this. What came to my mind insead was my estranged much-older half-sister, Melissa. A little back story for those of you who don't know: Melissa is unique in many ways, one obviously being that she is the only one of my siblings who is related to me by blood. She and I are almost eleven years apart (I was born May 1991 and she July 1980) and have never lived together. She is my dad's daughter and her mother and my father divorced when she was very young, only about two or three if memory serves me. She's always lived in Missouri with her mother who never remarried and I in Texas with my mother and our father. She used to visit now and then when I was little but to be honest I don't remember it much. Throughout most of my childhood, my parents and I took yearly trips to Missouri to see her and our (my sister's and my) grandfather and step-grandmother. We talked occassionally for a few minutes on the phone on holidays but that was about it. As the years went by and she got busy, our visits to Missouri became less frequent and our visits with her more-so still.

As it stands now, I haven't seen her since I was twelve or maybe thirteen years old. I turned twenty last May.

The two of us actually became quite close for a time. We'd talk about every other weekend for hours and I looked forward to those conversations more than anything else and then, for reasons I still don't understand, she seemed to wake up one morning and decide she hated me. It absolutely broke my heart. She was my big sister. I still don't think she ever understood how much I looked up to her, how I bragged on her constantly when I was a child, and how getting to see her was always one of the biggest highlights of my young life. I tried to mend things several times but to no avail. I couldn't do anything right. If I called or texted, or tried to contact her in any way, I was bugging her and she was too busy for me and needed space, etc etc. and if I tried to give her that space, was understanding about how busy she was, didn't try to contact her, then I wasn't making an effort and I didn't care about her. Either way I couldn't win. All I ever did was love her and look up to her and she spat in my face. In the letter that put the nail in the coffin, she tore me down with everything she had. She blamed all her problems on me and all but said she wished I'd never been born, as if that would have made our dad a better person, a decent husband, or a loving father. I knew what she said wasn't true and that no matter how she ran she could never change her DNA but for years she did all but that. I left her alone because I didn't know what else to do but never forgot about her and never wished things could go back to the way they were. Then, out of the blue, she sends me a photo about something she's doing in New York with movies. I was stunned and she was completely civil, as if we had simply gone our separate ways, got wrapped up in our separate lives, and lost touch. Since that day, that's the way it's pretty much gone. Nothing at all for months and then a picture, chat message, or text out of nowhere. The most recent one came today, hence my initial inspiration here.

In this senario the roles are reversed. I am Ariel and she is Bridgette. She pretends that she hates me or at the very least doesn't care about me or my life and wants nothing to do with me but I know better. When she contacts me, as nonchalant as if seems on the outside, I know she is reaching out. She wants to share a part of her life with me. She wants me to understand and be proud of her and I am. If she truly didn't care or hated me like she pretends to, she wouldn't bother. She underestimates the power of love. This love that binds my heart to hers cannot be explained by any sort of bond we've formed from mutual experience or one that's been formed for us through shared DNA; this love is one who comes from the One who created us all and made Mel and I sisters to start with. Through my love for her, He has shown me how He loves each of us.

God's love has always been a very difficult concept for me because I grew up in a home where love was not unconditional. It had to be earned and could and would be yanked away at the drop of a hat. If you were good, you got loved but if you did something bad or if someone decided you did, that was it - no more love.

My sister has treated me with more cruelty than anyone else in my entire life aside from my (our) father and yet, though I was certainly hurt by all the things she said and the love and closeness she took away from me, I never stopped loving her, never let her make me bitter towards her. I never waivered even once, as justified as I might have been to outside eyes. I couldn't have if I'd tried. No matter what she said or how much she turned her back and walked away, I was always ready and waiting for the day she decided to come back and when that day comes, and I pray that it will, I shall be waiting here still with open arms to welcome back my big sister whom I love so much and always will, just as God waits endlessly for us, His prodigal children, to return to Him when we've gone astray...and there's not a damn thing she can do about it. <3

They Say a Picture's Worth 1,000 Words...Then What is a Song Worth?

If anyone wonders what life is like for me everyday I live in this house, just listen to this song. It's too perfect for words.

+ 1

I found myself thinking about a friend today. I actually only met her through blogging but regardless of never seeing her face to face, I can honestly say she has made a mark on my life. My friend Halley was very sick. She was opennly Bulimic and desperately searching for a way out. I'm not going to go into those details here because that's not the point of this but if you're wondering, since she blogged them herself, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you visited her at Youth Down The Drain to find out. Though I didn't really know her before her stint in rehab, just by looking back on her posts I can see now that this is a changed woman. I'm am happy to be able to say that today she is, to the best of my knowledge, happy and healthy and absolutely loving her life...and doing all she can to make the best of it.

I know I'm rambling. To be honest, I'm not totally sure why I'm writting about her but for me, journaling in any form is based on instinct. It's so much a part of me that when I get something on my mind and get the feeling that I should write about it I assume there's a good reason for that feeling and so I listen to it. I listen to it and trust that whatever I write, even if it feels like nothing, will turn out to be something, a very important something that needed to be said either to help myself or someone who might stumble across my little hole-in-the-wall.

Anyway, back to Halley. From the day I met her, still crippled by disease and a complete stranger, she was an inspiration to me. After all, how many people can you find on Facebook, send a message and basically say hey, I know you don't know me but I found your blog and thought I needed to reach out to you and not only have them not think you're completely crazy or a creeper but reach back out to you and embrace you with as much love as they can from the other side of the computer screen and tell this stranger that they're here for them, they hear them, and not to give up hope. I know I can call on her anytime I need her and she always keeps my chin up with her optomistic outlook on life and all the crazy messes she manages to get herself into. She was there for me when I needed her eventhough she had no obligation to me whatsoever and didn't even know who I was. If a person like that doesn't deserve a second chance, I don't know who does and I don't know who I'd be happier for to have been given it.

A Wedding and a Funeral

I knew this time would come. There was never a time I doubted we'd be here. Still though, I don't think I ever really prepared myself or even gave much thought at all to what it would feel like, what it would really mean.

My sister is getting married. Exactly a month from today, she will be a married woman. She's happy, I can see that on her face, hear it in her voice. I've been with her through 2 boyfriends (including her now fiance') out of the only 3 she's ever had, a terrible break up, lots of crushes, just as many let downs, both giddy excitement and bitter dissapointment. I was one of the first calls she made the day after she slipped that ring on her finger (and long before she changed her relationship status on Facebook). I was the one she called when she was at an impass with what she wanted as a bride and felt obligated to as a friend and sister. I know how much she loves this man and because of all that, I've never wanted anything but true love and perfect happiness for the best big sister I've ever had that's been so much more than just that, so in that I'm happy for her and want this as much as she does but I can't turn a blind eye to what it's going to mean for me, for her and I as sisters.

One of the most valuable things I've ever learned in the four years I've been in and out of therapy is that feelings are not a crime and don't need to be appologized for. I have every right in the world to feel however I want and there's nothing wrong with that, it's what we choose to do with them, and what we choose to let them do to us, that brings wrong into the picture. I recognize that while I want what's best for my sister and what will make her happy which means I want this marriage very much, I also recognize that in a way this thing that is a wedding for her and David is a funeral of sorts for the two of us.

I don't mean of course that we won't be sisters anymore come July 10, 2011, of course I know that's not going to happen, I know that, but still even she can't deny that come July 10th, things are going to be radically changed and stay different forever on. The time she and I have together, just the two of us, which is already almost non-existent what with my school and her work and us living at least a couple of hours away from each other, will be, how did she put it?...difficult. Our sleepovers filled with musicals and nail painting or shirt making and girl talk will be a thing of the past. Suddenly her life and what she does with it won't just be up to her anymore. And this is only the beginning. Next thing I know she'll be having a baby and if there's one thing I've learned through my many years of having adult friends, having kids is the end-all be-all for everything and everyone else. Once someone has a child their life, choices, schedule, all of it REALLY isn't their own anymore. Suddenly she'll never have the time or freedom to do anything and if I need her for an emergency in the middle of the night, or any time for that matter, like when my dad had his heartattack, the chances she'll be able to be there are slim to none. And let's not even start with what these kids are going to call me...

Sometimes I feel like because she did everything first, in the three years it takes me to get there, she sometimes forgets how important something is or what it's like to be in that place in your life. She tries, I know she does. She loves me and because of that, she tries to use the wisdom and perspective she gains in those three years to help me avoid her mistakes or learn lessons faster but along the way she tends to forget that I was with her three years ago. I remember what she was like then and when she was in the time in her life that I'm in now, she was just like me. She struggled in the same ways I did and had to learn the same way I'm having to but it's like she's forgotten all of that. It's like she's forgotten what it felt like to be here and what everyone else's advice like she's giving me now sounded like to her then. But I remember. We became sisters officially four years ago this month. She was nineteen. I just turned twenty less than a month ago. Eventhough it feels like a lifetime ago and she has learned and grown so much since then, I still remember like it was yesterday that stubborn, oppinionated, frustrated nineteen year old fighting so many demons. While I'm glad for who she is today and wouldn't trade her for the world, just as I know as best as I can that this marriage is the right thing for her, I can't help but wish for parts of that first year back. In those days when she was still living nearby, going to the community college, we talked online and/or txted almost every single day. We always knew what was going on in the other one's life and were the first person each called if they were confused, frustrated, excited, or needed a sounding board. I met boyfriends and prospects and she threatened my prom date with violence after he tried to back out on me. She cheered me up when I was sick and calmed her when she was worried. She was there for me during the most confusing time in my entire life and I was there for her during one of the only times I've ever seen her cry. We conquered the frightening step of starting therapy together and each scared the other on at least one occassion when behind the wheel. We confessed our deepest and darkest secrets and loved each other through them. She loved me, care for me, protected me, and took me under her wing when no one else ever had and through that is bonded to me for life.

The distance put between us by first her going off to college and then my following suit has been sneaky and steady, turning a sharp pain into a dull ache and letting us forget what things used to be like when we were on the forefront of each other's lives. I guess now I'm realizing that this wedding ensures like the last nail in a coffin that I won't ever get any of that back. Come July 10th, things will never have a chance of being like they were again, though they've been so different for years. I guess part of this aching in the pit of my stomach is regret. Letting so much time go by without talking or being together, letting that distance grow and the little time we had left just the two of us slip away completely.

I know change is a natural part of life and can't be prevented or stopped but regardless it's never been a phenomenon I've been particularly fond of. My sister has been the most important and influential person in my life these past four years and I guess I let myself believe up to now that because getting married is a natural part of life and it's what she's always wanted that it wouldn't or shouldn't bother me if I didn't let it or didn't think about it. I think I've found that all I've really done is surprised myself, the way you do when you're going down the steps in the dark and you think there's one more step than there is, or you forget how close you are to the edge and accidentally roll off the bed, or when you pick up the wrong glass or forget what you're drinking and don't get the flavor you expect on your tongue. I suppose right now, realizing the day that both of our lives are different forever is only a month away, I feel something like that...

All You're Ever Gonna Be Is Mean...

You, with your words like knives

And swords and weapons that you use against me,

You, have knocked me off my feet again,

Got me feeling like I’m nothing.

You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard

Calling me out when I’m wounded.

You, pickin’ on the weaker man.



Well you can take me down,

With just one single blow.

But you don’t know, what you don’t know,



Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Someday, I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Why you gotta be so mean?



You, with your switching sides,

And your walk by lies and your humiliation

You, have pointed out my flaws again,

As if I don’t already see them.

I walk with my head down,

Trying to block you out cause I’ll never impress you

I just wanna feel okay again.



I bet you got pushed around,

Somebody made you cold,

But the cycle ends right now,

You can’t lead me down that road,

You don’t know, what you don’t know



Someday, I’ll be, living in a big old city,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Someday, I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Why you gotta be so mean?



And I can see you years from now in a bar,

Talking over a football game,

With that same big loud opinion but,

Nobody’s listening,

Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things,

Drunk and grumbling on about how I can’t sing.



But all you are is mean,

All you are is mean.

And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life,

And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean



But someday, I’ll be, living in a big old city,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean. Yeah,

Someday, I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Why you gotta be so mean?

Someday, I’ll be, living in a big old city,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean. Yeah,

Someday, I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.

Why you gotta be so mean?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, I'm done. I can't change you and I've accepted that. I've also accepted that I'm strong in my own right and you don't own me or control me or my happiness, as much as you like to think otherwise. You might have given me some mountains to climb but even on days when it feels like I'm wrong, you haven't ruined my life because you don't have that much power. She's made her choice and now I've made mine. I'm not putting up with it and eventhough sometimes I don't say anything outright, inside I'm standing against you. Nobody else may be on my side, I've accepted that too, but finally I am and somehow, no thanks to you, I know I can do anything I have the heart to go after and the will to work for and what better cause to stand for than myself? I know there will be days when this conviction won't be so strong and I'll feel like I can't make it and I know I still have a long way to go to being as firm as I sound and learning how to deal with all of this for the long haul but that's okay because unlike you, I know I'm worth it.