Feet On the Ground

I try to have faith, to be strong, to believe it will okay, and to keep pressing on even though I’m miserable and terrified.

Sometimes I can’t.

Sometimes I just cry and cry and cry and cry because I have no hope that things will get easier.

Tags: fear, nightmare, pain, uncertainty

There are a few things that, as a rule, I can’t stand. Church people and girls are at the top of the list. So girls from church are my personal hell on earth.

I realize that I’m generalizing and stereotyping. But in my experience, most of the girls I’ve had the displeasure of associating with in churchlike settings are vapid, shallow, concerned with appearances and unable to stand on their own. They’re daddies girls who are constantly seeking approval from everyone around them and their main goal is to marry someone who is important or the son of someone important in the church.

I used to want to be one of them. Oh, so badly.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself fit in. So I eventually quit. For a while, I quit everything related to church and even stopped playing in the band. When I returned, I didn’t hang out with anyone. I literally had NO friends close by. I went to school, work, and came home. My grades were great and I watched a lot of TV. It was a very quiet time in my life, and my only face-to-face conversations of any importance were with my mom. I spend a lot of time texting and calling my far away friends. And although I’d still see on Facebook all of the comments and pictures of church people hanging out, I had absolutely no desire to join in. I no longer cared.

I worked through a lot of hurt in that time, and after a while got to the point where I could see people that had ostracized me without feeling that old stab of pain. I even struck up conversations with people now and then, but this time I had no expectations.

Then I shocked myself by meeting someone I really liked. She started dating one of my friends and was the sister of someone I had gone to school with for years. We hit it off from our first conversation. She was hard to get ahold of when we weren’t at church, but every time I saw her we chattered away and had a blast. We hung out a few times with our friends and I looked forward to seeing her. I felt as if I didn’t have to be strategic around her- I could just show her who I was. We giggled, a lot, and whispered about things that would earn us shocked faces and frowns from most people around us. I liked her because she had a pretty real view of things that most people in church try to pretend don’t exist.

She was one of those people that, if you could PICK someone to be friends with, it would be her. We both got new jobs around the same time, and then the holidays were crazy, and so many times we said, “When things calm down, we’re going to hang out. Just us.”

Finally, I decided to try to make it happen. But she wasn’t responding to texts or facebook messages for days, or the next time I’d see her she’d apologize. Finally, I got fed up with it and asked her boyfriend if he could see if she was getting my texts. I’d heard stuff about her phone not getting messages before, and was still trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She texted me later that day and started going on about how she was a loner and didn’t have much time to hang out and well, basically told me to quit trying.

Salt, meet wound.

I was hurt and extremely angry. I ranted and stewed and seasoned my bitterness like a witch’s brew. I wrote her off in my head and made every effort to avoid her. Fortunately, I didn’t see her at church for like, a month. Then, I saw her unexpectedly. She tried talking to me as I was walking outside to get my jacket from my car. I smiled stiffly and responded with as few words as possible and kept going. When I came back inside, I went into the bathroom. She was there. She tried to strike up a conversation. I kept trying to brush her off, but she persisted. Finally, I said, “I’ll come out and sit with you in a minute.” She grinned and said okay and walked out the door.

So, as I’m peeing as angrily as possible and berating myself for telling her I’d come sit with her, because there was no way out now- I heard God speak to my spirit.

“Forgive her.”

Of course, I wasn’t giving in that easily. A dialogue ensued.

“No.”
“Yes.”
“She hurt me!”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to!”
“I don’t care.”

I’m certain that I had a big scowl on my face. I’m also certain that God was lounging on His throne with his arms folded and staring at me with a calm, yet pointed expression. I was having a standoff with someone who knew He was going to win. Soooooooo infuriating.

And, well, let’s just be real. There, in the church’s bathroom, I said, “Damnit!”

At that moment, I TOTALLY felt God smirking at me. My candor and whining didn’t bother Him. My stubbornness amused Him. I felt no censure, and I think it’s because He knew that I was deeply hurt, that I had deeply cared about her, and that I truly wanted to do the right thing.

I washed my hands and stomped over to the door. I took a deep breath and sighed it out forcefully and then, with a small bit of resignation mixed into a whole lot of determination, I said, “Okay.”

I went out there. Forgave. Talked. Hugged. Expressed my hurt. Cleared the air. Made a few jokes. Giggled. Hugged again.

That was a few weeks ago. And since then, I’ve only seen her once and said hi in passing. We haven’t had any other contact.

It still kind of hurts.

I still love her.

And I think God is proud of me.

Tags: awkward, grace, learning, pain, peace, risk

The guy that broke my heart got married on Saturday.

I thought I’d be slightly more than devastated.

But proving His majesty and ability to create a happy ending even for the broken, God has allowed me to feel…

Freedom.

For the first time in months years, I feel completely free from all of those ties. I feel as if I could fly, do backflips down the street and let loose on a crazy Pentecostal hallelujah dance.

He moved on with life. I actually felt a smidgen glad for them and that they’re happy together at present (even though he’s gotten far less attractive and well, she always was and they’ll probably get divorced because he’s selfish and doesn’t love Jesus). I realize how much better off I am now. Even though there are still hurts and regrets, those aren’t as specific to him anymore. It reflects upon where I was emotionally and how much hurt had built hurt over the years.

I’m moving on too.

Tags: change, excitement, heartbreak, love, nightmare, pain, peace, romance

She sat at the table and recounted a story that is the closer to hell than anything I’ve ever experienced. Her straight posture and matter-of-fact manner didn’t welcome pity for her pain that she hid well behind a mask of cynicism and wit and bluntness. Yet as we sat there, my heart broke for her. It was too late for me to do anything about her pain, but I knew it was tangible and wondered if I could have done anything beforehand to help her through it. I even realized that such thoughts were useless, but it all felt so real in that moment that I could barely hold myself together.

And then when we were alone, she had the audacity to apologize for possibly offending me with her tale.

It was an issue that countless people have underwent, even in the church, and it’s something that usually results in immediate condemnation. Yet condemnation was the farthest thing from my mind. I haven’t known her for very long, but I can honestly say that I love her. And in that love there was no judgment. Only deep regret that I hadn’t been there to support her.  That she had to endure it alone.

The thought that she could have kept her story to herself out of fear of offending me made me feel a whole host of negative emotions toward myself and the religious community in general. Yet it felt so powerful because she chose to tell me and my first response was grace.

This isn’t a post to talk about how fabulous I am. The desire to extend grace was the most humbling thing I have ever felt in my life. I realized that grace means you’re aligning yourself with someone. It’s not showing that you’re condoning their actions but rather that you see them as they were made to be and are willing to help them close the gap from there to where they currently are. Extending grace means that you might receive condemnation simply from associating with them. It doesn’t mean that you’ll receive grace in return and almost certainly guarantees that enemies will rise up immediately to punish you for daring to give them a free pass.

I would never presume that I’ve made any impact on her life at all. If you could write a life story that was exactly the opposite of mine, hers would be it. But I’ve learned so much from her. Even if we never spoke again, I will forever remember her as striking. Her appearance, her wit, her ability to cut through all of the crap in a situation or a person and call them out on it. Her tenacity is unparalleled and the way she can rebound from a bad situation and push through everything life throws at her is remarkable. She warns and even apologizes for her brashness but refuses to curb herself to fit a mold. She’s the type of person that everyone wants to tame but she’s exactly what we need to make us realize that molds are completely useless.

She’s changed my life.

We’d be offended by her story, and that’s exactly why we need it.

Tags: appreciation, discomfort, grace, learning, nightmare, pain, risk

I was pretty unfortunate looking in high school and the beginning of college.

I wasn’t hideous or anything, but my awkward stage lasted a lot longer than it could have. I didn’t have confidence. I had glasses and bangs. I’ve worn makeup nearly every day since I was in middle school and I’ve always dressed decently, but I was always a bit off somehow, and wasn’t really noticed.

So it comes as no surprise when I stopped in at church the other day and a girl there said, “You look like such a different person with straight hair and makeup.” No surprise because this girl has zero social grace and because, yeah, there’s some truth to it. The thing is, I’ve always worn makeup around her and sometimes I still wear my hair curly. It just looks better now than it did a few years ago. She tried to present it as a compliment with a hidden insult. It was probably obvious to everyone around.

I could have pointed out that she doesn’t wear eyeliner or mascara and really should. Or that she used to have super permed curly hair herself that looked absolutely awful on her. I smiled and said something to deflect the insult as much as possible when I wanted to retort. I have never been mean to this girl, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need a reason.

I don’t really like her, but I gave her grace.

Then the very next day, I said something mean to someone I really care about. I know they care about me. They said something a little mean, hitting a sore spot that they know is a sore spot. So I fired back as hard as I could. It was nearly instantaneous, and I really hurt them.

I gave grace to someone who didn’t deserve it at all.

I retaliated against the person who, by all accounts, has been wonderful to me for the duration of our friendship and should have earned unlimited do-overs, undos, and freebies.

And they received no grace.

I feel awful about it.

What if Jesus revoked grace right when I needed it most? When I committed a sin that would be the equivalent of sticking gum under a desk rather than throwing it in the garbage? What if He suddenly got really angry about that whole cross debacle and snapped? Tore up the contract and threw me in chains?

But He won’t.

We’re at His mercy, but He is good. Always good.

I’m not.

I can only hope that I receive grace when I don’t deserve it from the person I refused it. And that I learn to keep my mouth shut and give grace abundantly.

Tags: grace, learning, pain

I’ve been kind of numb the past few weeks. I think it’s a combination of dealing with the most epic heartbreak of my life, being lonely and getting thrust into a new, draining, full-time job out of nowhere. I’ve read little and written less. I haven’t talked to my best friends much because there’s nothing to say. I can’t even really get involved in my TV shows as much as usual. I can’t connect. I can’t feel.

Part of it is welcome. I can’t feel anything bad, and when I do I just shove it aside and return to the numbness. But that also means that I can’t feel anything good either. I usually love Christmas, but it feels dead to me. It’s a celebration of life and I feel none of it. I miss God’s presence and the anointing flowing in my life. Whenever I listen to a Bill Johnson sermon, I no longer feel like all he discusses is attainable. It’s foreign and I wonder how the heck I’m supposed to get there. I don’t feel the passion and the power of God in my life anymore. I miss it. I miss Him. I want it back.

I struggled for a long time with thoughts of suicide. Up until a couple months ago, I was having an onslaught of random thoughts and dreams about killing myself. It was so weird because I knew I had no real intentions of doing that, and I would never follow through on those ideas. Yet they flowed into my mind with frightening regularity, and it was a painful struggle. A direct reflection of how much I did not love life.

Somehow, though, I could handle it. I could press into that anointing and feel God’s love and know that I would have to struggle with it forever. And when it fell away after a very emotional week, I rejoiced. I thought it was over for good. Then little by little everything else started falling away too, until now I stand here feeling empty and forlorn. Then last night, I had thoughts of cutting, which is something that I’ve never really had the interest in pursuing seriously (cause like, it hurts…). This is why it doesn’t make sense to me- I don’t do it, I won’t do it, and any attempts in the past (very few) have been half-hearted indeed. Even now, my rational thought process is so much more stable than it used to be. I’m not going to do it. But there’s something that wants me destroyed and it doesn’t really care if it’s in one fell swoop or proceeds gradually.

I used to be equipped to fight against it, but I don’t feel that way anymore. It’s probably the most terrifying part of this whole mess. Maybe, though, this is what I needed to get back to the right place. It’s certainly motivating, but I’m not sure how to do it anymore.

Tags: discomfort, fail, pain, silence

I went to orientation for a new job Friday morning and I officially start training on Monday. I’m thankful to have an opportunity to make money, don’t get me wrong. It sucks to have no income. But it’s one of those “in-between” jobs, where you are just doing it because you have to while being sort of terrified that you’ll still be there ten years down the road. They hired a bunch of people seasonally and it’s definitely a motley crew. I am thankful that I get to wear what I want to work and be comfortable, but the lack of a dress code doesn’t really promote professionalism, especially when the people in charge are walking around in sweatpants and Ugg boots. I felt myself sliding into the old habits of putting forth a half-hearted effort, not trying to excel but rather to just get by with what I can do. Trying to avoid standing out.

Then I went to get my hair cut, and she had fun with it and gave me what I called movie star hair. It was fabulous and I felt like a million bucks when I left. Then I bought some awesome new shoes that I’d had my eye on, really gorgeous ones from Macys that were overpriced but so hot that I didn’t even care. Hairstyles and shoes don’t define me, but I realized when God started speaking into my spirit that the extra boost of confidence and vitality that I felt after getting them is how He made me to be.

There are some people who are totally content with little and only do what they need to do to get by and lead simple lives. Honestly? I think I’d tend to be one of those people, if God would just leave me alone. The price of trying to drag yourself out of that kind of life is very costly because it can lead you astray and get your focus off of what- well, Who, matters. I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to seem discontent or ungrateful. But God seared that feeling into my spirit because He wanted me to know my calling. To know that I’m constantly supposed to have my eyes upward and to continue to progress. It’s something that he has instilled in me, and He is showing me more and more that I don’t have to make it all happen. That He will do it, but I have to be willing to put my own effort into it when the time comes to step up and carry it all out.

I’m alive for a reason. If I don’t step out when He calls, I might as well be slipping a noose around my neck. He wants me to accomplish great things. To be an example. If I only obey Him with my body by keeping myself alive that way, but don’t commit my entire being to what He wants, that’s not true obedience.

I still have days where deep sadness tries to overwhelm me. I wonder what the point is. I wish the journey could just be over. It has been two weeks since I found out the worst news of my entire life and I’m surprised about how well I’m doing, honestly. Before the whole thing even sank in, I was absolutely terrified about what would happen to me when the impact finally hit me. Surprisingly, I can get up and smile and rejoice and praise. But that doesn’t mean it’s all gone, and although I totally and completely believe in deliverance, I’m not sure it will ever truly be erased. Simply because I’ve had to learn to cope with it. I think it has made me a stronger person overall.

In the middle of all of this mess, God is showing me the kind of life that He has designed for me. And there’s some part of my soul that is so determined to not miss out on it that I’m convinced I will give it the best effort I have. Period.

Tags: anticipation, appreciation, change, learning, pain

I’ve struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. People shrug it off when I’m down and they wave away statements that admit to depression, and I’ve been guilty of it with other people myself. But for me, well, my first stark memory is of being in kindergarten playing with a toy in the sand in the classroom and realizing that I was alone and that no one wanted to play with me. This stands out vividly. Not so much the whole thing of being alone and realizing it, but the first drops of that toxic feeling started, I believe, in that moment.

By the time I was in first grade, at 6 years old, I was thinking of ways to kill myself.

Six. years. old.

There is something wrong with that. I think that’s proof of demonic activities and attacks and that anyone is subject to them. It’s not natural. A six year old shouldn’t even be capable of those thoughts or have a reason to think them. It wasn’t because I had a bad home life or was being abused or anything. I hadn’t even realized that it was abnormal to grow up without a father yet, and it was a while before I would even realize that not having a daddy was something that negatively impacted my life. My mom was, and is, awesome. I know that she covered me in prayer constantly, and that’s why I haven’t followed any of those very strong urges to end my life.

Although I still think about it (and I’ll be honest, over the past few months I have actually had dreams of it which is something that has never happened before), there has always been something blocking me from actually taking action. It’s almost like a tangible wall that I cannot break through- and I’m very thankful for that. It’s obvious that God has some reason for keeping me here and that He truly does care.

What has been one of the hardest aspects of this is that I have had to deal with this for about 15 years. I haven’t understood why God hasn’t stepped in to lift this burden off of me. I was raised to take authority over the enemy and was always told that he had no power in my life and allllll of these other things that are good and right but that made me actually feel like I was doing something wrong and that it was all a punishment and that there was something within me that caused this to happen to me. I felt like I had the responsibility of fixing it, and until I did, nothing was going to go right.

There’s so much talk about abortion and how everyone has the right to live and moreover how life is a gift and….it’s all exhausting to hear because I did NOT and have not ever really wanted to live. I just haven’t really understood the point, and I’ve never felt free enough to ask someone to help me.

Please wait for the second installment before you try to report me to a suicide hotline!

Tags: nightmare, pain, silence

So. Bianca asked. Most people didn’t ask, just said that they’d pray. But she did, and I feel like she asked because she wanted to know how to pray most effectively. Not only that, she wants to grieve with me as I grieve. I’ve honestly never really had many people who considered me that important.

It’s an extremely personal matter, and I don’t feel comfortable putting many details on here because of how personal it is, how much I’m grieving, and also because it doesn’t include only me. I don’t want to hurt the people who are killing me. I don’t want to trivialize what I’m going through by putting it into mere words.

It was a romance. A romance that hadn’t really happened yet, but that I’d had a very small taste of, and something I believe that God was working out to give to me in the future. I believed and I labored in prayer over this like nothing I’ve ever prayed for. I put my soul into this. I was willing to hang on and believe for as long as it took.

And I just found out last night that it will never be mine. I didn’t even know that he was dating her. I feel so foolish. Completely duped.

It’s one of those situations where you can’t even think beyond, “What the hell?”

Because it is hell. What I’m going through right now is the most torment I have ever experienced in my life.

And now I know why tragedy inspires most writers. All I want to do now is write out everything I feel even though it doesn’t make sense. I think I could write forever out of the pain.

I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. He was the first person I loved, and he taught me that I could actually love someone and that I wasn’t too broken to feel like this. But he doesn’t care, and he’s killing me. He broke my heart and then sent it back.

I don’t want to write forever out of the pain.

I don’t want to grieve this. I spent a very, very, very long time believing for this and I am so not okay with giving more tears and more space in my life to pain. I’ve lived a life of pain and heartache and abandonment and hurt and rejection and I don’t want it anymore.

I’m constantly nauseous. I haven’t slept. I’ve never cried that hard in my life. Of course, finding out on Facebook that the most noncommittal man in the world got down on one knee for someone else didn’t help. He gave her a ring and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him. They’ll recite vows and kiss and she’ll bear his children.

Not me.

It’s a stark reality and I have to accept it and get used to it. I feel like I can’t function. I can’t breathe right. I can’t think straight. I just can’t do anything right now. I want to stop and sit and take comfort in familiar things.

Yet somehow, in all of this, God has been here. He knew that it would happen. I would never, ever, ever have believed for something so strongly had I not believed that it was His plan and His voice and His hand involved in every single aspect of it. I believed for the hugest miracle ever. Now I realize that I didn’t hear His voice at all, and I’m terrified of the implications of that.

But He picked an unlikely source to use to speak to me since I apparently have no idea what He sounds like personally.

David Crowder Band recently released a new CD called Church Music. Ironic title considering that it’s basically techno praise and swine flu will have to manifest in actual flying pigs before we’d ever play any of those songs at my church. Yet it’s basically the best CD I’ve ever heard, and definitely the best thing I’ve heard from DC*B. I got hooked with the album A Collision and was sorely disappointed in Remedy because it was really tame and “normal” compared to A Collision. But Church Music is just on a whole other level of weird. By weird, I mean awesome.

There’s a song called Church Music – Dance (!) and you can listen to it by going here and scrolling to number 13. It has a funky beat and really does make you want to dance. But the most important part of the lyrics are:

Dance if you’re wounded
Dance if you’re torn in two
Dance broken open
Dance with nothing to lose

Perfectly free
Dance if you want to be

It’s SO amazing that God knew that I would go through this and exactly when. The CD has been out for a little while but I just got it and listened to it this morning. It is the only thing that really got me through today without being catatonic on the floor.

You know how yesterday I said that I’ve given up on being happy? The song doesn’t ask me to be happy. It just tells me to do exactly what you don’t want to do when you’re wounded and broken open – dance. Just enter into mindless movements of celebration, even if you’re like me and have no coordination whatsoever.

I’m broken. I’m wounded. I’m not sure if I can live through this. But I can be free from the grief and heartache and all I have to do is live. I don’t have to figure it out. The situation tells me that I’m worthless and will always be a reject and that my hardest efforts will grant me nothing. But God says that I’m perfect in His eyes and that His Son made me perfectly free. To be wounded and dance, and it’s beautiful to Him.

(You know, all of that sounded great, but I’m still terrified and in more pain than I can imagine. It’s 2:41 AM and I can’t sleep and my stomach is completely empty but I feel like I’m going to hurl. And I keep watching the sneak peak video of Glee where Mr. Schu raps Bust a Move. I have serious problems.)

Tags: fail, heartbreak, men, pain, romance

You know how there is that one thing in your life that you are terrified will happen, and you try not to think about it too much lest it actually happen because you thought about it and revealed that it was your biggest fear? You beg God not to let it happen, to protect you from this, but it just looms there sometimes to jump out at you? You live in fear that it will happen.

Well, it happened.

I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be happy. I have had so many people tell me that I should be happy, that people would like me better if I acted happier, even if I just faked it. I’ve been prayed over, preached to, and had nearly every Christian tactic employed on my behalf so that I’ll be happy. I have completely ignored other areas of my life because I exhausted myself trying to be happy.

Yeah, well, that’s over. You know what? If you want smiles and cheer, go to Lakewood Church. A lot of people rag on this place because they think that it’s just motivational speaking, but I completely believe that the leaders of this church have a huge place in the kingdom of God, if nothing else than just to keep people like me from cutting our wrists while we read Lamentations and Ecclesiastes. Anyway, I am SO DONE trying to fight to be happy. I’m going to get on with my life and if happiness decides to find me eventually, so be it. If not, at least I haven’t wasted my life trying to chase it.

I don’t feel like happiness is even possible for a very, very long time now. I don’t even care. I’m actually kind of relieved. I don’t even know what happiness is or looks like and it’s nice to have a break from the whole ordeal, really.

It’s also nice to have a break from that looming fear. I’m not sure if I can make it through what happened, because my heart is so totally destroyed right now that I don’t even want to live. But at least rather than living in conjecture, I am living in the reality of what happened and even though it feels so much worse than I had anticipated, at least I have the relief of knowing that the initial discovery portion is over.

I also have the relief from believing for anything. Seriously, I’m done. I’ve never been this low in life and I’ve never had so little going for me. But you know what? It doesn’t even matter. In an ecclesiastical fashion, I’m so totally done with desire. This thing that I was believing for was the only thing keeping me motivated to do better and be better and accomplish anything in life. And now that my sole motivation is gone, I’m kind of relieved. There’s nothing stopping me from being average or below average anymore, and I just don’t care. I have no pride left.

My story ends here. I have no idea when it will pick up again. I feel like a writer who gets completely tangled up in the plot of her work-in-progress and just tosses the whole thing to the side because it sucks and she can’t figure anything out. I’m putting it into the bottom drawer, underneath the extra sheets, and I want it to get really brittle and stale.

Stupid story. Stupid life. Stupid Kayla.

Tags: heartbreak, nightmare, pain