The power of saying no

Remember that time you should have just said no and walked away? You know which time I'm referring to, don't you? We all have at least one. We are all haunted by it. Those times when you said yes when you should have said no will leave you with a bad taste in your mouth and a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that never quite goes away. That's a little thing the masses like to call regret. It's a tangible emotional nuisance that's impossible to ignore.

Regret is an unfamiliar notion to me. I can list on one hand the things that I truly regret. Most of the things on that list have been the result of something I have done in the last year. And in each of those situations, a great deal of regret and unsettling sensations in the pit of my stomach could have been avoided if I had just said "no."

In hindsight, I know that I should have said no. I should have turned around. I should have walked away. But instead, I walked right into a brick wall held together by bad decisions and poor judgment calls. I said yes when my gut feeling told me to do the opposite. I let my choices be guided by all the wrong motivators and I paid the price.

More often than not, I was completely conscious of the fact that I did not, in fact, want to be in these situations. On the contrary, many times it was absolutely the last place I wanted to be. But I stupidly, albeit unintentionally, said to myself "I'm here and it's already gone this far, so there's no turning back now." But I knew, then and now, that this was absolutely, positively not true. It would have only taken one second, one word, and a tiny bit of courage and self-respect to say "Actually, no. This isn't what I want. I have to go." I could have changed everything if I would have just refused to give in to the coward within me and instead embraced the woman with dignity and unshakeable self-respect that I know myself to be.

Sure, I was going through some tough times during most of these moments and maybe the things I was doing brought me comfort or some sort of twisted self-validation, but that's nowhere near a valid excuse for behaving the way that I did.

In short, I screwed up. But I'm still here. I'm still standing. And I can still say that I can count my regrets on one hand. Because despite all the poor decisions I've made, I have somehow been able to drag myself out of them, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes gasping for air, and sometimes feeling completely disoriented.

But I have overcome, nonetheless. And from these mistakes and horrible choices, I've learned and I've grown. I have learned that, yes, you can kiss a few frogs now and then (as my mother likes to encourage me to do), but don't settle for them and certainly don't cry over them when they're gone. I have learned not to accept anything less than extraordinary, whether it's a job, your education, your relationships, an apology, you name it. If it's not exactly what you want and if it doesn't make you happy, leave it behind and keep looking. I have learned to ask for what I want and clarify what I don't. And I've learned to do this with unyielding decisiveness.

Finally, and most importantly, I adapted the ability to say no and embrace the power of that ability. That one seemingly tiny word has the strength to move even the most intimidating of mountains.

Now that I've learned my lessons, I find myself saying no more than ever before. It may just be the best thing I have ever done for myself.

Girls just wanna have fun. I'm no exception.

I like my coffee black, my whiskey neat, and my hands and heart free. So sue me.

I'm not a girl that likes being tied down. I don't like limits, or boundaries, or chains. I don't like being told that I can't. I don't like being restricted. But I think that's natural.

I'm a free spirit in most ways. I can be a little reserved given the right circumstances, but I'm innately the kind of girl who goes wherever the wind blows her. I take whatever life gives me and I run with it. As fast as I possibly can.

I have no fear of falling, unless it's in love. That may be the one thing that truly shakes me to my core. Just the thought of being thrown into that whirlwind of emotions gives me the sensation that I'm slowly and gradually being suffocated.

I'm just not a relationship girl. Honestly, I never really have been. The idea of commitment has always made me flee immediately.

Of course, I've had my fair share of relationships. But they either were short lived or long distance, which kept the men I dated always at arms length, just as I liked them. They were never close enough for long enough to ever become the "real deal."

And, yes, I've been in love, too. Once. It happened at a point in my life when I needed that kind of closeness, stability, and support. And then that time was over. And so was that relationship. It was a time of desperation and utter weakness. It was what I needed at the moment, not forever.

I'm the kind of girl who, really, just wants to have fun. I'm too consumed with my own dreams and aspirations and goals to get caught up in romance. My work has always been my biggest commitment. I become married to it. I'm career minded. It's just who I am. And a man just doesn't quite work into that equation.

Yes, I love men. Of course, I do. But I love them for a moment or from afar. Where they can't touch me or distract me or control me.

Maybe one day I'll walk down an aisle sprinkled with rose petals in a white dress. Maybe, but not any time in the near future. I'm too young for that. I could change my mind. I know that. However, for right now, my mind is made up. This girl just wants to run free. Is that so wrong?

Bent, broken, and burned

I like people who are damaged; people who have been broken down and torn apart. I like people who don't have it all together. Maybe it's because I like knowing that I'm not the only one who needs fixing. And maybe it's also because I like to be the one doing the fixing.

Perfect people bore me and annoy me and mostly make me want to scratch my eyes out. And, of course, I know that there is really no such thing as a perfect person. I simply just can't relate to those who have had the world handed to them on a platinum platter. And honestly, I see that as a good thing.

Granted, I know that my life is not necessarily one that would be deemed underprivileged by any reasonable standards. However, I've worked for everything that I have. Because I've had to. Because I don't want to be anyone's charity case. Because I can't stand those people who expect the world and everything brilliant in it to be delivered to them in a Tiffany's box. And because I never want to be one of them.

Anyone who has known me long enough to coax me to open up even slightly is aware of how broken a person I am at my core. I'm not going to try to hide that. I'm not one to pretend that everything is rainbows and butterflies when it isn't.

Yes, I'm probably one of the most bubbly and resilient people, maybe ever, but that's because I've been punched in the gut by defeat and disappointment and dejection. So I know when to appreciate the good times when they roll through.

But, my dark side, especially lately, has been making its presence known. And I'm smart enough and old enough to know that suppressing that part of myself is unhealthy. So here it is. Here I am.

I'm broken and beaten down. And that's okay. Because broken people are my favorite people. We're bonded by our hardships. We're kindred spirits. And we're blissful in our brokenness together.

Killing lights. Feeding souls.

Some of my favorite conversations have happened in pitch blackness, in the dead of night, in the most unexpected places. They have happened when I least expected them and certainly never when I planned them.

Those conversations, punctuated by long stretches of silence that tiptoe precariously toward tears that you can't quite explain, are typically the ones that reveal the most. The words muttered in hushed tones while heads are buried in hands tend to be the most honest. And the most overdue.

Words are good. However, I'm usually not very good with them in the out loud, off the cuff manner. But they're good nonetheless.

And sometimes, sometimes they just need to come out and there is nothing you can do to keep them in. Because it's nearly suffocating you to stifle them.

I've had a dozen or so conversations like this in my short lifetime. They're almost always prompted by some question that is some variation of "What's wrong?" or "Is everything okay?" There's no screaming or yelling or noticeable act or sign of distress. The other person just knows.

And maybe that's why these conversations are so dear to me. The person on the other end is usually someone who understands those parts of me better than I was able to comprehend before that point.

Always, they have to nearly pry the information out of my sealed, vice-like lips. But they do. They wait. They prod. And they do it with such care and tenderness that I know I have to say those words I never wanted to give life to and unveil those parts of myself that I work so tirelessly to keep locked up tight.

It's these conversations that make me realize that all of those things that I stubbornly vaulted in the deepest, darkest corner of my mind were the things that, if I would only let go of them, would be the very thing that would set me free.

Even more, these conversations reveal the most honest, vulnerable parts of people. Coincidentally, these also happen to be the most beautiful parts of them.

In the darkness and the silence I've seen some of the clearest moments and heard some of the loudest testimonies of genuine kindness.

I've found the brightest enlightenment in these darkest of moments. Words have that effect, in the wrong place, at the wrong time with the right pair of hushed voices and the right sets of amiable ears.

Falling in and out of love

Nearly a year and a half has passed since the most pivotal relationship of my life to date came to a close. I can honestly say now that it has been the greatest, most growth-fostering, crazy, and exciting year and a half of my life.

And I don't mean that in one of those "I'm-So-Much-Better-Off-Without-Him" kind of ways. Quite frankly (and maybe a little selfishly), it has absolutely nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I will go to my grave believing that he was a genuinely decent guy. That's the truth.

But, what I will say is that in the last year and a half, I have become the person I never could have become with this person by my side. That in itself is a blessing.

I have grown up and out in unexpected ways. I've tried things I never fathomed I would, failing at some and triumphing at others and enjoying the ride either way.

I've built such strong bonds with so many amazing people, feeling my heart swell bigger and bigger with each incredible soul that touched my own. I have loved these people more than I can possibly comprehend. I could not be more grateful for each of them and the turn they have caused in this heart of mine.

I have dared to be bold and fearless. I have done things that scared me; Things I could never have done while attached to someone the way I was.

I have even gone on a date or two. Despite their outcomes, they taught me lessons. They strengthened my ability to stand up for myself, defend my own honor, and be confident enough to not settle for anything less than spectacular.

I have regained my freedom and learned to let go. I've rediscovered how truly wonderful it can feel to be independently and happily alone. I remember now why I love this feeling so much. I finally got my self back and I really think I'm starting to love who that is.

It was a treacherous journey without question. But it has been the greatest journey thus far. Because of the trials I finally remember to keep my head high and my standards even higher. I've reclaimed the rules I once had for what I expect out of life, men, and myself:

If you're going to do something, go all in
If you're going to be with me, be with me 110% percent
If you're going to request my time, make it worthwhile
If you're going to kiss me, kiss me like you mean it
If you're going to come into my life, make sure you plan to stay
And, if you're going to love me, love me for everything that I am. Every day. With all of your heart.

All of this has made me realize more than ever to appreciate when people walk out of your life. It's their time to go and your time to move on to whatever comes next. They're just giving you the freedom to do so. Let them go. Let them set you free and thank them later.

Thanks, kid.

The love you take is equal to the love you make. At least, it should be.

It's a funny thing; Love. It can make us feel a whole spectrum of emotions: blissful, depressed, fulfilled, infuriated, frustrated, hopeful, and sometimes a little insane. But love isn't really an emotion or a feeling. Love is a choice. It's a blatant act. It's not something you do subconsciously or by accident. However, I didn't always view love like this.

I've been "in love," truly, once in my life. It was a mad, passionate kind of love. Something I can equate only to the kind of stories you come across in Nicholas Sparks books. And that's saying something coming from someone who is normally an absolute realist when it comes to matters of the heart. It was powerful almost to the point of recklessness. It made me do and feel and say things that were so foreign to me. It molded me into a person I had never been and never thought I would ever be. I became a starry-eyed, lovey-dovey, fairytale-believing, let's-grow-old-together hopeless romantic.

There's a point to this story, I promise. The point is, throughout the duration of this mad, passionate love, I thought that it was involuntary, that I didn't have any other choice but to love that uncontrollably. I didn't have a choice. That was my defense. For two years, I argued that it was something beyond my control. But then reality was finally able to penetrate the dream-like delusion that was my present cognition. Once it sunk in, I was aware of just how deep in denial I had been.

I had made the decision to love so uninhibitedly. It didn't feel like something I had done consciously, mostly because I hadn't realized I had the capacity to do so. But I had done it. And I haven't been able to do it again since.

In life, we have experiences that alter our definition of love. This was my game changer. A love like that changes everything. It thrills you, electrifies you, exhausts you, and eventually refines you. In that order. At least, that was true for me. I believe that all love should be that deep. But knowing what I know now, I no longer believe that love is this magical thing that materializes out of thin air. In grammatical terms, it's a verb. It may feel like something fantastical and other worldly while you're in the midst of a great love. And that's fine. But the thing that I was forgetting in my experience, the thing that we all often forget, is that we have a choice to love or not.

Lately, I feel as though I have been receiving an overwhelming abundance of active love from the people surrounding me. It's almost a tangible kind of thing. I feel as though I could swell and burst from the amount of love that I have been given. My family, my friends, and sometimes even perfect strangers have shown me such kindness and genuine concern that I must owe them something in return.

That's when I realize that what I owe them is the same kind of love they have shown me, only amplified. And I don't know that I have been doing that. I don't think that I can stand firm and honestly say that I have been giving anyone in my life the love they deserve. I have not been consciously, actively, purposefully loving anyone at all. Not the way I should, anyway.

I tell people I love that I love them, but not often enough and certainly not as often as I used to. It's become something that's difficult for me to admit, particularly when I truly mean it. So I have to force myself to say it when I need to, but it shouldn't be something so painstaking.

I have a problem with expressing my love for people. I'm not often affectionate for reasons that require their own separate novel. I show love in unconventional ways that I can only imagine are quite difficult to decode.

Regardless, love should be given where love is due. It is overdue by years and months and incalculable volumes to the individuals in my life. I can't promise that I'm going to be able to give them everything that they have given me, plus the interest that I so obviously owe. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to actively love them to the best of my ability. I promise to love them as much as my little heart can manage.

It is impossible to deny that I have been blessed beyond measure with the abounding love that has filled my life and my heart recently. Now, I just need to allow that love to move me. Undoubtedly, I feel the utmost gratitude to those who have indeed loved me so deliberately. I can only thank them a thousand times over for loving me even though I am so undeserving. One of these days, and hopefully very soon, I will be able to repay them for the great love they have chosen to show me.

Love is a choice, whether we believe it or not. I believe that now. I choose to love and love on purpose.

Chaos and clarity

When my mind is a mess, writing is the best remedy. Sometimes I just need to put words to paper (or, in this case, screen) to make the chaos make sense. I don't need to write about anything in particular. I just need that therapeutic release that comes from spilling my thoughts out in the form of words.

It saves me from myself when what I want more than anything is to do something irresponsible or reckless. It stops me from doing things I'll regret. It keeps me sane in my most crazed moments. So, please excuse me while I spill out the contents of my brain here and attempt to find my way through this maze of muddled thoughts.

My life, at this very moment, is chaos. Let's just call it what it is. Don't get me wrong. I know that no one's life is a perfectly straight, continuous row of days, hours, and split seconds that make perfect sense. Life, in it's general sense is not a series of puzzle pieces that fit together flawlessly. That is quite clear.

It occurred to me quite some time ago that my life was not, is not, and will not ever be perfect. And I swiftly came to terms with that reality. I'm okay with it. Truly. Perfection has kind of always bored me anyway. I need messy. It gives me something to do with my time, my mind, my hands.

As a child, I was the epitome of an obsessive compulsive perfectionist. So much so, that I think it might have driven me mad. But, as the years passed and series of events unfolded that jolted and transformed my world, I also transformed. I let go of that itching need to make everything neat and tidy. I let go of the idea of perfection. It can't be achieved and, even if it can, it can't be preserved. Perfection only shows its shining face in fleeting moments and then quickly dwindles away into sweet memories stored away in those hopeful corners of our minds for safe keeping.

I gave up on perfection long ago. So I see my life now, in its present state, as merely normal. But, despite this normalcy, I still find the chaos magnificent. I may not have any clue which direction I'm going, or which direction I should go, but unpredictable has kind of become my thing.

Absolutely nothing is making sense right now. I'm caught in the in-between in nearly every aspect of my existence. Maybe I should be worried. My mother certainly is, just ask her. Or don't. But I'm not worried. I'm blowing in the wind and I'm letting my seeds scatter where they may. Just call me a dandelion.

I'm a wildflower. I'm messy. I'm in the midst of chaos. But I'm living and I'm growing. And, at the end of the day, I'm happy. I'm uncertain, sure. Scared? Absolutely. But worried? No. I'm sleeping on this couch just fine. I often say that I can get by with very little and I'm learning that I was pretty right on about that.

I have everything I need. So what if it isn't perfect? I'm perfectly happy. Just let me be a wildflower.

In respect of time...

There's this annoying little habit that people have of expecting life to deliver itself in nice, neat packages tied up tight with sparkly bows. Or maybe that's just me. I (and I'm really hoping I'm not actually alone in this) have this disgustingly compulsive need for closure. I have to have it. In my experience, it's the only thing that has made moving on possible. Or so I was inclined to believe.

The first time I truly got my heart broken, I yearned for closure. I obsessed over it. I was sure that if I were just able to ask a few last questions and get a few simple answers that it would fix everything and I would finally be okay. I didn't get to ask those questions. I didn't get those answers. At least, not for a while. But by the time I received those long overdue answers, I had been around in circles through every corner of my mind and had come up with every possible conclusion to qualm my paranoia and anxiety.

I didn't realize it then. I can be terribly dense sometimes. It wasn't until just recently that I realized that those answers, even if I had received them when I thought I needed them, wouldn't have fixed me. Being left in the dark tortured me, without a doubt. I tore myself apart trying to figure it all out. But it wouldn't have mattered if I got the answers that I so longed for. It wouldn't have fixed me. It might have helped to speed up the healing process, but it would not in itself have healed me.

I realize that now. I see that it's not answers, it's not actions or words that reconfigure a broken heart. It's Time. Time washes over us. It makes us new and we never even see it coming. We go through the steps to recovery: we admit our circumstances, feel our pain, embrace the change, and accept our new reality. And then we move forward. Moving on doesn't always follow immediately, but it's just around the corner. We learn to cope. We learn lessons. We learn to endure. That's what Time does. Time is a healer, a teacher, a strength provider.

Time has been good to me. I may not always see its reasoning or agree with it, but this concept of time happens when it's supposed to. Everything has a set time to occur. We just have to be willing to be patient and go along for the ride. Eventually, things will begin to make sense and fall into place if you just take a moment to let Time pass and work its strange magic.

Patience, Time, and I have not always been the best of friends, but in the end we always settle into a mutual respect somehow. I have learned more in the times that I have been patient and waited on my answers, whatever form they eventually presented themselves in, than from rushing through the rough patches and trying to pry the answers out of thin air.

So if you're trying to move on, just wait on Time. You may not get the answers you desire, but you will get the time that you need. Be appreciative of that time. It's the greatest remedy we have. Closure will come if you let it. And when it does, it will arrive in the most unexpected little wrapped up box you could have possibly imagined. And it will be everything you never knew you needed.

"In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it." -Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

Wise words in unexpected places

Sometimes people will utter simple words that have the power to change your life, or at least change your perspective, and they mean it as nothing more than a passing comment. This is a cool thing. Pay attention when this happens.

So, here's my related story: I received some very wise advice and shockingly accurate insight from a completely unexpected source recently, and it sparked a long-winded yet much needed self-analysis.

"You need someone who's all in." Those six words came from an old friend who I see maybe once or twice a year. But she hit the nail right on its stubborn little head and I don't even think she realized what she had done. I'm so glad she did. I honestly couldn't have said it better myself.

Sometimes people on the outside know what you truly need deep down better than you know in your own consciousness. Sometimes we're blind to what it is we're missing or just neglecting to notice because, simply, we're too close to the problem to actually be able to see it clearly, if at all. Sometimes these people have a better perspective since their viewpoint isn't so obstructed by their own emotions. Sometimes we need these people to tell us exactly what it is we really need. Because we often confuse what we want and what we need and, more often than not, what we want isn't really what we need.

I've been getting asked what I want more often than normal lately. And because these questions are typically targeting the relationship sphere of wants, usually my answer amounts to little more than "I don't know." However, when I'm being painfully honest, my answer to this question comes out as some variation of "Nothing. I just want to be left alone." Which, due to current events in my sometimes much-too-eventful life, couldn't be more true.

"What do you want?"

It's a question that almost always throws me for a loop. If you're asking what I want in my career, I can give you an answer without hardly blinking an eye. I can tell you with ease where I want to travel and when and why. I can tell you with absolute certainty whether I want paper or plastic, cream in my coffee, or fries with that. Those things are simple. The yeses and noes and black and white are easy for me. The inconsequential ones anyway.

"Are you happy?" "Have you moved on?" "Do you still love him?" for example... Those ones aren't nearly as black and white to answer. That's my big problem. All those relationship/romantic type questions leave me with little more to offer than a blank, blinking stare, a shake of the head, and shrug of the shoulders accompanied by an exasperated sigh. I can't answer those. I just can't. I don't think there's a real answer to give.

Honestly, I think the question everyone should really be asking me (and really anyone else for that matter) is "What do you need?" My answers to this question might be the same: "I just need to be left alone." Maybe that's how you really know that something is what you genuinely want. Maybe if we got into the habit of saying to ourselves "I know this is what I think I want, but is it really what I need?" we would all be a whole lot better off evaluating our choices on that basis.

It can often be a great struggle to figure out what we want and an even greater struggle to decide whether or not that specific want is good for us. We can't know until we've already chosen and come out at the end to face the result. And that's what makes these questions so difficult to answer. They're so incredibly uncertain and that makes them so very frightening.

Maybe it's because our bad decisions, as we come to view them after the fact, leave us scarred and afraid. We learn to fear making any decision or taking any action at all because there's a chance that it might turn out to be just another "mistake." But, at the risk of sounding unbearably cliché, to be afraid to make a mistake is to be afraid to actually live. We have to go out on a limb sometimes. We have to take that leap and allow ourselves to fall. Every experience is meant to foster growth. I honestly believe that. And if we never fall flat on our face and have the opportunity to will ourselves to get back up, brush off the dirt, and keep trudging along, we never really grow. We stay exactly the same. And who wants that?

So, what do I want? The truth is, I want to fall head over heels in love with my best friend. I want to have that inseverable kind of bond with someone I can see myself spending the rest of my life with. I want that closeness. I want to find that person that makes my soul sing. I want that great love. I want someone who is all in.

Someday. Just not today. Right now, I just want to be on my own. I'm still brushing off the debris from my last dramatic tumble. I think I can wait a little while before I allow my face to metaphorically become acquainted with the ground in such a traumatic manner again. What I need is to take this time to run free and feel and see and fully experience the world around me and its abundance of opportunities through my own eyes on my own time. I really do just want to be left alone. And, until God shows me differently, it really is what I need.

Not all advice is good advice. But when it is, hopefully you'll have the sense to see it. And when you do, take it and run with it.

Stepping into the fiery furnace and praying to God you don't get burned

"Don't play with fire, baby." These are the words of advice my mother offered me as I edged my way to the brink of tears at our kitchen table.

"I won't" was the only response I could bring myself to breathily expel.

And I meant it. I think.

I've grown weary of getting burned. I've poked the same fire far too many times to go back again. But yet, there's a reason I've always been drawn back to that same flame. There's history there. There's a story I've told a million times; a story that I'm still not sure is actually over. It's a story I'm still trying to make sense of. It's shiny, unfinished, and something that once held a great sense of hope for me; all characteristics that have always attracted my attention.

But this fire that I've played with time and time again has only ever left me exhausted, lost, and empty, and increasingly so with every visit. I've had enough time to at least wrap my mind around that much. I've obtained enough wisdom through my foolish mistakes to know that the dangers brought about by toying with this fire vastly overshadow the intrigue that may or may not still remain there.

Even so, sometimes facing your demons requires diving into treacherous waters and jumping through rings of fire.

So it would seem that I'm left to choose between fearlessly taking on those demons, barreling headfirst into the battlefield, or letting the broken pieces lay exactly as they fell, scattered and reckless, and accepting that what's done is done.

Eighteen-year-old me would take the first option. That little girl with the giant chip on her shoulder and the nerve to chase tempestuous storms, laughing all the while, would dive head first into the heart of the fire without a moment of hesitation.

Twenty-one-year-old me is a much different woman, however. She's been tossed about by a storm or two in the last few years. She's a little bit wiser. She knows better. That doesn't mean that she's any more fearful of fire, but she's very much aware of the fine line between being fearless and being foolish.

Proverbs 26:11 says, "As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly." When I first heard this verse, I thought it to be needlessly vulgar. In time, however, I realized how accurate a depiction this truly is of someone who repeatedly commits the same mistake.

Then I realized that this is an unfortunately perfect picture of myself.

I'm a creature of habit, and therefore tend to return to that which I know, even if I know it isn't good for me.

Fortunately, by His mercy, God has delivered me from my own reckless ways each time I have found myself in the midst of a raging fire. Up until now, I have taken advantage of this fact. I have become too comfortable in the mindset that God will bail me out of every bind I stupidly get myself into. Just because I know He will always be there and will forgive me daily for my foolishness, that doesn't mean that I should stop trying to be blameless and someone worthy of that kind of forgiveness.

He has delivered me from the very fire I speak of now more times than I probably realize. He has done this for a reason, because this is what He has designed for me. His desire is for me to be free of this. So, why on earth would I go back to what He has so deliberately lead me away from? And more importantly, why would I want to?

Eighteen-year-old me didn't have the sense to ask these questions. Luckily, twenty-one-year-old me does.

Sometimes, God's plan calls for us to fight our way through a fire. Sometimes it calls for us to shut the door, walk away, and allow the fire to burn out on its own. Because, sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is walk away. Fearlessness doesn't always require us to fight the war. Sometimes, to be truly fearless, we must have the courage to admit that the battle isn't worth fighting, and it certainly isn't worth playing with. This is one of those times. This time, I won't.

Love letter to the greatest people I have ever known.

I got a little sentimental and wrote a speech for my beloved council. It will be put here for safe keeping. And in case any of them ever need a reminder of how amazing they are. It went like this:

"So, I wrote a speech. Which is kind of a big deal for me. That’s how you all can be sure that I really like you guys, because I’m not usually one to willingly give a speech. I just didn’t want to end the year without letting you all know how much it has meant to me to get to spend it with all of you.

When I look back at my college experience, sitting in this very room with all of you laughing, sharing ideas, and learning about each other will be some of my fondest memories. This year serving as your Chair has been one of the greatest years of the 21 that I have lived.

As I’ve sat here, watching each of you grow into your positions, grow as individuals, and grow into the family that I see before me now, you have caused me to grow as well. I’ve learned how to lead, how to laugh at my own mistakes (and then quickly do everything I can to fix them), and how to love. Essentially, this is my really sappy love letter to all of you.

We all know I’m capable of going on never-ending tangents so, what I’m trying to say is thank you. Thank you for sticking through the rough patches with us. Thank you for being patient through all of my circular, confusing ramblings. Thank you for laughing at my bad jokes. Thank you for bearing with me while I figured out how to be your Chair. Thank you for allowing me to lead you. But thank you most of all for allowing me to know you.

Never before have I had the privilege of being surrounded by individuals as talented, creative, driven, and inspirational as you all are. Each week I would stand in awe of what you all were able to accomplish. I am so proud to even be able to say that I know each of you. Everything that you all have been able to do this year has inspired me to want to do more and be better, both as your Chair as well as in my own personal and professional life. You are such beautiful, brilliant people and you have taught me so much about what being a leader truly is and I sincerely hope that I have served you well this year.

And of course, there is my amazing, insanely gifted E-Board, without whom I probably wouldn’t have stayed sane this year.

I am so unworthy and undeserving of the absolute honor it has been to work with the three of you.  

You three have made me laugh harder than I ever have and work harder than I ever thought I could. Thank you for working such long hours and going above and beyond to make this council and this E-Board everything that it has been.

Thank you for always working so diligently and making my job so easy. Each of you was always so willing to lend a hand and dedicate your time to this council and that has absolutely meant the world to me. You have made all of our work not feel like work at all, and that’s a pretty amazing task to tackle.

Above all else, thank you for being my best friends. Thank you for never giving up on me and never letting me give up on myself. Thank you for listening to all of my ridiculous stories. Thank you for loving me through all of my crazy. And thank you for loving not only me, but for also loving each other. Thank you for your hearts. You are three of the kindest hearted people I have ever known and it has been such a blessing to have you three on my team.

You really have been my dream team and any E-Board I have in the future is going to have some enormous shoes to fill. You are my soulmates and I wouldn’t have rather spent those long hours in the office with any other group of people.

Finally, thank you a thousand times over to our wonderful advisor, Assistant Dean Peggy Bockman for being our biggest fan from day one.

Thank you for your time and for genuinely caring about each of us. Thank you for the opportunities you have given me to grow as a leader and a person. Thank you for your guidance and your patience with me while I got my bearings as Chair. Thank you for your encouraging words and your constant desire to help our students grow.

Thank you especially for having the incredible sense to recruit Amanda for our team. She was the missing puzzle piece that we didn’t even know we needed.

We couldn’t have done any of this without you.

I want to thank everyone here today for all of the time and love you all poured into this organization. It has made my job infinitely more enjoyable and worthwhile. I couldn’t have asked for a better council or a more fantastic group of people to spend my year with.

Thank you for the good times. Thank you for the memories. And thank you for letting me be even just a small part of your lives. I love you all and I am really going to miss you wonderful people.

Thank you for a year I’ll never forget."

Fighting fire with love

Someone once told me that unfortunate events happen in sets of threes. I believe that they happen in sequences, like a domino effect. If I believed in the powers of the universe, I might guess that this was an attempt by those universal powers to send us a message or draw the human race together. But I don't believe in the powers of the universe. I believe in God. I believe in His plans and the truth of His word coming to fruition. I believe that He does nothing without purpose. But I also know that there is evil in the world we live in, because humans have free will. I believe that people are all essentially good, but that evil desires sometimes overpower our good nature. And when that happens, tragic events begin to unfold and become our reality.

Mass shootings in a movie theater in Colorado. Armed gunmen running loose on a California college campus. The crazed killing of innocent men, women, and children in Newtown, Connecticut. And now, bombs exploding in Boston killing 3 people and injuring countless others. These are events that have transpired in less than a year. It breaks my heart and rips at my soul to recount these events, even from a distance. It's an unfathomable reality to have to wrap your mind around, and yet we have no choice. This is the reality of our world. This is what has happened to our brothers and sisters, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children, and friends. I am beyond grateful that I have been fortunate enough to not have experienced any personal losses to these horrific episodes, but my heart is torn to shreds for those who have.

I'm sure I do not stand alone when I say that knowing that this world is inhabited by people who are capable of such evil is the kind of thing that keeps you up at night and keeps you constantly uneasy in the daylight, even if only subconsciously. It's times like these that make the world a scary place and the people in it nearly impossible to trust. We have seen these episodes play out in horrifying images and unimaginable truths. Some are yet to be sorted out. This is the case for the catastrophe in Boston Monday morning. Nevertheless, lives were taken and hearts were broken. Our hearts should all be broken.

With the devastating and gut-wrenching events of the past months, I think it's important that we take a moment to mourn the losses and earnestly feel the weight of each of these heartbreaking episodes. And, if I may be so bold, I think it's time for my generation to start seeing this world and what we have made of it with our eyes wide open. As far as I'm concerned, the time is way past due to start caring for the lives around us more than the life within us. It is time to start acting and moving within our world with compassion and sympathy rather than indifference and apathy.

I'm not saying we fight back. I'm not saying we stoop to their level even slightly. Fighting fire with fire won't solve anything. It will only leave the world in flames. I'm saying we throw out our complacency and get angry. We don't need to use bullets or bombs. We are not like them, the ones who can steal the lives of precious children and find joy in watching innocent people die. Therefore, we have no use for their kind of weapons. Instead, we must get angry and turn that anger into something that's actually useful: Love.

Like I said, I believe in God. He commands us first and foremost to love. Actively, wholly, purely, and sincerely. So that is what I will do. I don't intend to preach, but I do intend to have you stand with me. I intend to shed a light on the incredible power of genuine love in its purest and most complete form, the kind of love that can move the world.

We can't undo what has been done, but we can take steps to transform our world. No matter how small those steps might seem, they can do more good than we can comprehend. We can't save the world, but we can pour love into it. Hatred does us no good and harsh acts only fuel the fire that is already raging. We can stand together in love and give compassion to the unloveables. We can be an example of exactly what it is the world needs. It needs love and a lot of it. Right now. So much can be done by exchanging our weapons for sincere hearts.

So, start caring. Start giving your attention to what is important. Start feeling the gravity of the chaos our world has been thrown into. Start taking responsibility. And start now, because we are way overdue.

Colorado, we heal with you. California, we stand with you. Connecticut, we mourn with you. Boston, we pray for you. And to you all, we love you.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8

The Runaways

My best-friend-turned-boyfriend for approximately two months. A guy I went on one date with. My father. What do these people have in common? They're my Runaways. The significant to semi-significant ones anyway.

This phenomenon, which I've come to call the case of The Runaways, is a pattern that seems to plague my life. For some reason I can't really figure out, I have a difficult time getting people to stick around. I've been trying to figure out what it is that I'm doing wrong. I've always been the kind of girl who can't hold on to a man for long, but this is a different kind of loss. The Runaways are a sudden, completely unexpected, rug-pulled-out-from-underneath-you variety of loss.

Each of the three aforementioned individuals, although they fall into the same category, have different reasons for being dubbed a Runaway. The first, the best-friend-turned-boyfriend (and now ex-boyfriend), wasn't the first boy to break my heart, but he was the first to disappear without the faintest explanation or indication, leaving me completely in the dark. He broke me past the point of recognition and didn't offer up a single answer until more than a year had passed. Years later, he's still prone to retreat at the sight of me. It's been long enough that I can let go, but he set the precedent for this phenomenon. He will always be my first real Runaway.

The second, the guy I went on one date with, was the most recent Runaway. He isn't noteworthy because of the role he played in my life, because he only played that role for approximately a week and a half. He is noteworthy because he reminded me of just how small being dropped cold turkey can make you feel. His leaving tore away at my self-confidence and essentially reminded me just how much I hate the dating world. To be perfectly honest, I really didn't have any remotely romantic feelings towards this guy, but I had started to get used to him being around. And just when I started to get comfortable he was gone without a trace. I was left without a clue, without an ounce of knowledge as to why he went from calling me every day to being virtually nonexistent in my world. He dropped me like a bad habit and I'll probably never know why.

And finally, there's my very own father. I don't ever talk about this. Ever. But, unfortunately, my father of all people has been my most noteworthy, and most heartbreaking Runaway. He left my family and myself behind to "find himself." Time and time again, I've extended myself to him and tried to be forgiving. Time and time again he has let me down. I haven't seen him for longer than a passing glance in over two years. He abandoned his family for reasons I'll never be able to comprehend, and he has yet to turn back and try to fix the things he has broken. I may be able to find it within me to genuinely forgive him eventually, but I will never understand what could possess a person to do what this man has done. He is a coward in every sense of the word. He is the ultimate Runaway.

Maybe I'm just bad news. Maybe I really am that easy to walk away from and never look back. Maybe I'm the plague in this scenario. I'm trying to find some kind of logical explanation for all of this. I don't know. I just don't know. All I can say for sure is that, just once, I want someone to stick around. I want someone to hang around long enough to find a reason to stay. And if not that, then at least consider me worthy of even a simple goodbye. That's all I ask. For once, I want to feel like I'm worth staying the course for. I am so weary of The Runaways.

I think a change will do us all a little good.

I'm like a gremlin in many ways. I'm short. I sometimes speak in sounds rather than words. And if you give me coffee after a certain hour I won't be able to sleep and, rather than studying for my finance midterm, things like this will surface as a result:

I'm chronically restless. It's my natural state. I've never been able to sit still or hold a train of thought for longer than a goldfish might or stay the same for very long. I'm pretty sure I've been that way from conception. Gross, I know.

I'm a change fiend. I'm addicted to it. And I don't mean change of the coin variety, just in case that required any clarification. You never know.

Right now, I need a change. I'm dying for one, actually. I'm going to be honest and admit that things haven't been top notch lately. They've gotten better. And then they've gotten worse. And then I just became a little apathetic to it all. A girl can only deal with so many build ups and let downs before she just gives up hope in all that "things-will-be-better-in-the-morning" nonsense. This girl knows better.

It just so happens to be a whimsical coincidence that this current hunger for change aligns perfectly with the coming of spring. It's ironic. I love irony. So, maybe my subconscious knows better than the rest of me that my life needs some major spring cleaning. I wouldn't say it requires a total upheaval. Maybe just some major tweaks here and there. A little reupholstering, perhaps.

Traveling usually helps to qualm my restlessness. I'll be going home in about a week and that usually has a rejuvenating way of clearing my head. But it's more than that. Maybe I'll clean out my closet. Or maybe I'll dye my hair electric blue. Or maybe I'll jump out of the sky. Maybe I should do all of those things. And maybe I will.

But when I allow the rational portion of my brain to get a word in, I know that what I really, truly need is to take some time to get my head right, to put my heart back in its rightful place. I need to open my Bible instead of my mouth and let it do the talking. I need guidance and I need to find peace.

I might still purge my wardrobe, change my hair, and toss myself out of an airplane in the near future, because that's just the kind of person that I am. But I know my life and my own contentment depends on more than that.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with a few external and behavioral changes whenever you see fit. Right now is a completely appropriate time in my life for that. So, I don't see any reason I shouldn't go for it. But that restless pull deep down in my core can only be cured by an equally deep soul therapy session. That starts now.

A little change never hurt. Right now, it can only do me a whole lot of good.

Fear: That place between being a fake grownup and a real one.

I don't talk about my future or my career very much. Probably because I'm terrified of it. It's unclear and nowhere near set in stone, or even set in Play-Doh for that matter. It's this huge enigmatic puzzle that I would much rather shove to the farthest corner of my mind and forget about all together. And that's on a good day. But it's going to happen. It's happening as we speak, and pushing it into corners isn't going to change that.

Anyone who's done it knows that growing up is rough. Being an adult is not all we crack it up to be when we're playing house and telling our teachers what we want to be when we grow up. I'm twenty-one years old and allegedly considered an adult in the legal sense of the world. Yet, somehow I still don't feel anything like I thought I should when I crossed that intimidating threshold of adulthood. I know I'm still young and at that point when I'm just supposed to be finding my direction for my future. But I also know that I'm rapidly coming up on that time in my life when I actually have to be able to stand on my own two feet and support myself and make those "big girl" life decisions. I know that because the word "finances" has become commonplace in my everyday vocabulary and I'm actually using it in the proper context. But I don't look like an adult on paper. Honestly, I don't even think I look like an adult in person. But the reality is that no matter how young I look or feel, I am an adult and whether I like it or not is none of the world's concern.

It's starting to hit me. I'll be graduating next May and then the world is going to demand to know what my next move is. I'm so afraid that when that time comes, I won't have the slightest idea what I'm going to do next. When life comes knocking at my door and demanding to know what it is that I'm going to be now that I'm grown up, I don't want to be standing there dumbfounded, grasping at straws, hoping and praying that I can come up with an adequate answer when the hat drops. But my question for myself at this point is: Am I demanding enough of myself? Am I living up to my full potential? Am I doing what I should to get where I want to be? Am I working as hard or as persistently as I should be? Honestly, I don't think so. My answer to each one of those questions right here and now is a resounding "No!"

So, I guess the next thing I would have to ask myself at this point is "Why?" Why am I not where I want to be? Why am I not working as hard as I can to make the things I want most happen? Why am I not pushing myself harder and sacrificing more? I know that I can and I know that I should. So, what's stopping me? Usually, my answer would be that I'm standing in my own way, because I have that tendency. I'm frustratingly impossible that way. But that isn't the case this time. Every fiber of my being wants this. Every part of me knows that this is where I want to go. I want to be a writer. I want to do something that matters. I want to make an impact and leave a mark. When I really stop to think about it, the only thing that's holding me back is fear. Fear that I'm not good enough. Fear that I won't be able to handle it. Fear that I might fail.

But, then I realize that I must be doing something right if I'm so afraid. I have dreams big enough to elicit that kind of fear. It's a cliché that I hear so frequently: "If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough." My dreams are enormous. And they're terrifying. And that's exactly as they should be. I've got that part right. But it's the follow through that has me stuck. It's taking the necessary steps and doing the work that's tripping me up. I've always been a hard worker and not even the least bit afraid of doing the work and getting my hands dirty. So, the only plausible answer is that I am absolutely, undeniably terror-stricken of jumping into my future with both feet. But if I don't jump, my future is still going to happen and if I continue to sit here refusing to accept that, I'm just going to be dragged into it kicking and screaming. Hiding under this veil of denial is not a means to an end. It's a road that leads nowhere.

Actually living requires us to take risks; big ones that make us want to hole up somewhere and hide. But risks are the gateway to anything worthwhile. No one ever failed because they took a risk. People fail because they do nothing. I won't get very far by playing it safe. I know that much. Most of the greatest experiences of my life happened because I took a leap of faith, because I didn't over think, because I had no fear of failing. I have lived by the mantra "Nothing worth having comes easy" for quite some time now. Lately, however, I haven't been doing such a great job of actually living that out. I've been caught up in my own head for too long. I have been distracted by my own fear and self-doubt all this time and it's made me forget why I'm here. It's time for me to get my head back in the game. It's time to stop being complacent and actually make things happen. I have all the tools in front of me. All I have to do is put the pieces together. I've rediscovered my drive, so now I'm praying for fire, endurance, and fearlessness. I want this and I'm ready to work for it. I'm not giving up until I've done what I was put on this earth to do.

This little girl wants to do big things. And she's going to. Mark my words. Literally.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I don't need a man and neither do you.

As much as I've tried to convince the rest of the world that Valentine's Day is cancelled this year, it will still be taking place tomorrow, according to plan.

Just the thought of this dreaded so-called "holiday" makes me cringe. Usually. I've never been fond of Valentine's Day. Whether it was receiving jewelry from a boy in my fourth grade class and having to break his little heart by returning it because I couldn't reciprocate those same feelings or doting on the boy back home whom I was madly in love with and pretty sure I was going to marry, it was just never a day I could bring myself to celebrate in earnest. This year, as the day grew near, I started to feel that same cynism that usually encroaches on my outlook around the month of February.

But then, as I started to feel that utter hatred and disdain for this painstakingly cliché day, I had to stop myself. And then I realized...this is the first year in three years that I have not been in a relationship on Valentine's Day. For the first time in three years, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. And as much as people might expect me to be absolutely crushed by that realization, I actually welcome it with a sigh of relief. 

I don't have to spend this Valentine's Day worrying about making someone else feel special and loved. I don't have to stay up all night baking cookies, or finishing presents, or writing letters. I don't have to put on a fake smile and pretend like all of their touchy-feely, overly cheesy "romantic" gestures don't make me so unbearably uncomfortable. I don't have to worry. I don't have to do anything at all if I don't want to. 

But this Valentine's Day, I will be celebrating. I will be celebrating being young, and alive, and strong, and free. I will be celebrating my singleness, because it's something I haven't been able to do in a very long time. It's something that should be celebrated, because I might not be single forever. So I'm going to fully embrace and appreciate the time I get to spend on my own and the freedom that comes with it. 

I know that a lot of people, like myself, aren't the biggest fans of this holiday, and tend to refer to it as "Single Awareness Day." But, let me share a little secret with you: It's not "Single Awareness Day." It's our very own personal Independence Day, and we have every right to treat it as such. I'm speaking to both the ladies and the gentlemen out there. This goes for all of you.

Most people might feel depressed about being single on Valentine's Day, seeing all of the happy couples prancing around, flaunting their love for each other. I was one of those people at one point, too. But while others are feeling sad and mopey about being alone on Valentine's Day, I find myself feeling empowered by it. I am young and I have all the time in the world to be tied down. But right now, all I want is to be surrounded by the people who mean the most to me and tell them I love them, finish college, work on achieving my goals, start my career, have new experiences, and enjoy my life along the way.

I am happy. I am loved. I am unlimited. I am free. And that, my friends, is cause for celebration.

Happy Independence Day! 

Confessions from the terminally insecure.

I'm just going to say this, because I don't know how else to go about it. And, honestly, I don't know if there is a good way to go about this. So I'll begin with a warning: This is going to be painfully candid and horribly honest and perhaps the most openly I will ever expose myself. So brace yourself.

We all have days when we don't feel beautiful. We all have days when we don't feel like we fit in. We all have days when we feel like we're not good enough; for the people we love, for strangers on the street, for ourselves. We all have days when we really just don't like ourselves very much. Lately, for me, I haven't liked myself very much at all. I can't really pinpoint the exact day or moment in time when I arrived at this state of self-loathing, but it took over with a vengeance, and it doesn't seem to be backing down.

I've been in the process of regaining my sense of self after months of losing myself to the bewilderment and heartbreak of a horrible breakup. But that's just background information. We're not talking about that now. However, ever since then, I have had such a hard time being able to really believe in and see myself in a positive light again. Maybe it's a product of the cause-and-effect phenomenon, maybe it's purely coincidence. But maybe - just maybe - it was just my time to be humbled and brought back down to earth.

Insecurities can be brutal. They can tear you apart and make you forget who you really are and what you want for yourself. They can make you feel weak, and small, and utterly insignificant. They can make you all but lose your mind. I've never really been either hyper-confident or paralyzingly insecure. I have always fallen somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. When I was younger, I typically always had a fairly solid sense of my place in the world. It was the result of the way I was brought up. I was raised by a mother who never let me forget that I meant something invaluable and irreplaceable to someone: her. But even so, there were times when I felt bigger and other times when I felt smaller in the world. I had my ups and downs just like everyone else. I went through phases where I was a little too overconfident about myself and my abilities and phases where I couldn't understand how my existence even mattered in either the major or minor scheme of things.

I dealt with depression earlier on in life than most. My childhood, although wonderful and far from unfortunate, had its fair share of hardships. I had everything I could have ever asked for, but it was still life as we know it and, therefore, rough patches were unavoidable. About the time I was 9 years old, a string of medical complications began to unfold one after another. Conveniently, this was also around the time that I entered into my inevitable "awkward phase." So, with the stresses of monthly, and later bi-monthly doctors visits and blood tests and brain scans came the internal fears and doubts and eventually depression that took over the space in my brain that wasn't already keeping itself occupied by malfunctioning at random intervals. My already fleeting self-esteem practically flew out the window as though it had never really existed in the first place. I think this is the point in my brief history where my own view of myself started to become skewed and unstable, because I've never really been the same since.

Fast forward about 12 years. As far as I can tell, I'm about as healthy as humanly possible, I'm (in one way or another) past my "awkward phase," I overcame my battle with depression, and I certainly have a lot to be proud of and thankful for. I'm a very lucky girl. I know that full well. And yet, something just feels very wrong and unsettling at the core of my being. My self-confidence has sunk to an all-time low. It's almost to the point where I don't even want to bother looking in the mirror because I already know I won't like what I see. I don't make an effort to meet new people because I already know they won't like me and it's better to save us both the disappointment. I second guess myself at every turn and I over think every movement, every word, every minor detail because I know, somewhere along the lines, I'm going to do something to screw it all up. I make jokes to cover up all of my insecurities, because I know I'm the "funny" girl, not the "smart" girl, or the "pretty" girl, or the "cool" girl. I take what I can get and I don't ask for more. I settle for far less than I've been taught that I deserve. And I honestly can't remember the last time I did something purely because it was what I wanted.

I can point fingers and blame it on getting my heart broken by the one person I ever really loved, being repeatedly and rhythmically rejected, having people walk away from me like it was completely effortless, allowing myself to be walked all over and taken advantage of, or just being a girl in her twenties trying to get through her life. But those are excuses and excuses are good for very little. But what it ultimately boils down to is the bare bones facts: I just really don't like myself right now and I don't know how to fix that. Frankly, that's depressing. I know that. And obsessively dwelling on it is draining and the breed of annoying that makes you want to pull your hair out. It's a vicious cycle, one that I would like very much to break free from. I just feel like I can't win. I don't feel good enough, or pretty enough, or worthy enough. It's honestly the worst, most helpless feeling in the world. But I know I can't stop trying to get better. I can't give up hope that there will be a break in the clouds. I can't give in to my own insecurities and allow them to win this time. I need to find it in myself to remember what I deserve and what I know is right, and real, and true. I need to rediscover my own worth, on my own terms, for myself and absolutely no one else.

There are times when life is going to hit you where it hurts and then kick you while you're down. This is one of those times. And I have to believe that it's just a phase. It will pass. It has to.

This isn't a cry for help or my way of fishing for compliments. This is just me telling it like it is.

Every story has two sides. This is mine.

This is me releasing a part of my past to the universe and walking away from it. This is my side of the story. Take it for what it's worth.

Out with the old. For good.

There's something about the ending of one segment of time and the beginning of another that seems to spark a brilliant fire in the human soul. For some, it's extinguished just as quickly as it's ignited. For others, that fire burns brightly for a period of time and then slowly fizzles into little more than the final remnants of a matchstick flame. Still, others endure. That fire that bursts suddenly into an intense blaze at the beginning of a new chapter continues to burn just as fervently as it began well into the days, minutes, and fleeting moments that follow.

It's the start of a brand new year. It's that infamous time of setting goals, making plans, and fixing our sights on bigger and better aspirations. Every year I stand at this point in time with intentions and hopes far removed from those of the year before. With every year what I want, what I need, what I understand, and what matters to me changes. My goals, then, also contrast dramatically for the upcoming year. For the last few new years, I have felt an overwhelmingly tangible sense of just how much I have changed over the course of those past twelve months. This year is no exception. On the contrary, that feeling is more prominent than ever before.

If you have been following my rants and tangents for the last six months or so, you may have picked up on a few things. Namely, you might have gathered that this year was not a necessarily effortless one. It was characterized by its own unique unceasing twists, turns, and blindsiding, sudden drops. And now that year is over. I will never have to live through any of those days ever again. That's one of the beautiful things about the past: you never have to relive it. At least, not in the literal sense. And this is where my new ambitions begin.

Much like everyone else on New Year's Day, I'm dying to get back in shape. So yes, that is on my list as well as taking care of my body and only doing things that are good for it. But that's not enough. I'm too flawed a human being to settle for just that. For the past year and especially the expanse of time within that year that ripped me to unidentifiable shreds, I have been allowing myself to reside within my past and be haunted by it. The time for that is over. I don't want to live in my past anymore, nor do I need to. It happened. I learned my lessons. I walked away from it. Now it's time to let it go. For good.

So this is my resolution: I am going to carry those lessons with me and never forget them. But I will no longer live within the confines of my past mistakes. I will break those chains. I will release those burdens. I will become brand new. That's what I want most of all. I want to be brand new.

I am really, honestly, truly ready to close the book on all of the things that have been holding me back. I'm ready for new beginnings. This past year was a year of firsts, and for that I am undeniably grateful. That is one thing I intend to continue pursuing. I want to chase dreams I have been too afraid to chase. I want to open myself up to possibilities that I have never had the courage to allow in. I want to discover those parts of myself that I have never before been able to unearth. And I want to love like I have never loved before. I don't necessarily mean "love" in the romantic sense. Although, I won't close that door either. But, mostly I mean "love" in the purest, sincerest, most humble definition of the word. I want to genuinely and actively love the people around me, regardless of who they may be or what they may have done. I want to love and appreciate all of the little things around me. I want to love and enjoy the life that I have been given, each and every moment of it. I want to love without limitations. Because I can and because I should.

This year, I'm leaving the past where it belongs. I'm moving forward, living fearlessly, loving fiercely, and dreaming bigger than I've ever allowed myself to. I'm going to do things I have never done before because I want to reach goals I have never achieved. If you want something you've never had, it only makes sense that you'll have to do things you've never done to get them, doesn't it?

So here we go. I'm allowing myself to be made new again. Now, I just have to keep this fire fueled. But I'm excited. I think this is going to be fun.

"You must give up the life you planned in order to have the life that is waiting for you." 

-Joseph Campbell