taking it back...

I've missed writing because I've been super busy and felt like hiding away. So here is a long, truly scary confession post for me with *gasp* a photo with MAKE UP ON. 

Triggers here. Fyi.

I don't wear make up pretty much ever. If I do, it's basic mascara and some pink blush used as eyeshadow. Nondescript. Barely there. Fiance is cool with it - "You're naturally beautiful.  Women really are. I wish you - all of you - could see it too." Love him, right? Anyway. We did engagement photos a week ago, and so I did the thing you do and put on my face - and though I look very Jane Austen? I about had a panic attack walking out of the bookstore restroom to go meet up with our photographer.

Fiance immediately asked what was wrong - and I almost cried off my face as I told him I hate wearing make up. "People look at me more. They see me. Men see me. I want to be left alone. I don't want them to look at me." He was confused. And as I thought about it from his perspective - I found myself analyzing why I think this way.

Guy from high school who locked me in his car and threatened to rape me? He wouldn't let me wear make up. Or cute clothes. "I don't want other men to look at you. You're mine." Checking my phone, playing mind games, making me change outfits before dates if I looked "too hot." Don't be seen.

Supervisor who locked me in the janitor's closet with him. He let me go when I stared too hard at him, wide-eyed and more confused than scared. "Close your eyes, girl. What the hell you doin' with those?" Don't be seen.

Ex who repeatedly abused me for two years - "You attract so much attention just because of your face. Especially your eyes. Stop looking at me. Look down." "Take off the eyeliner, you look stupid." "Did you see that guy checking you out? Don't wear that shirt when we go places anymore." Don't be seen.

I've always been shy. Awkward. Looking at the ground. But to have a panic attack because I put on make up? Unable to breathe because my eyes shine? Afraid to show fiance my face when I put this stuff on because he might see something he's suddenly afraid of or made angry by and tell me to disappear? He wouldn't. He won't. But my crazy brain says he might - it's ridiculous.

So guess what? This cleansing confession post now has a DARE. A BIG ONE.

Be seen. With or without make up on. With or without a nice outfit. I'll Be Seen. I'll see others. I'll smile and laugh and walk with my head held high.

I'm taking back my face.

it's a new dawn, it's a new day...

I usually write a "looking back" post for the new year. But for the 2013 to 2014 transition, I'm not going to.

I'm looking forward.

It's been a good first day of the year. I've been reminded again of the good friends that I have, of the present opportunities, and the importance of family (even though I still struggle getting along with them). I've gained a greater appreciation for my home, and for the relationships I can fall back on when I get into trouble, whether through my own decisions or just because of circumstances.

Honestly, I face this new year with a lot of fear and anxiety. There is so much uncertainty in my heart, and my mind jumps at shadows that it is actually creating. I've learned that I can't just say "No more" or "I'm fine" and expect it all to go away; that I have to work through it and learn to manage it. And I'm starting to learn to say the words, "I need help." As sick and scared as it makes me feel before saying it, getting the words out provides relief. I've done it twice today and so far it's only strengthened friendships, instead of pushing people away.

For this year to be a good one, I have to make it be a good one. Again, I'm scared to sleeplessness (worse than the usual, mind you) about what the future may hold, and I can't figure out how to shake the past (yet). But it'll be okay.

Given how things have been for the past few weeks, I can say that right now, right here...

I'm feelin' good.

my 2012...

I survived 2012.

No, that's not an apocalypse joke (though I won't lie and say I didn't worry about it a little bit). It's actually a true statement.

This year has been hard. Lots of heartbreaks, lots of challenges, lots of new things to overcome. I lost several close friendships, began dealing with the pain left behind from abuse, watched my dad begin a battle with stage 4 prostate cancer, saw my sisters get hurt by boys and shattered dreams, tried to help a friend who had some awful stuff happen to her, was diagnosed with some of my own health problems, faced seemingly insurmountable challenges in school, changed jobs multiple times, met people with opposing perspectives that shook my world, moved out on my own for the first time, saw life-long dreams put on hold indefinitely, and, as always, wrestled with the darkness that comes from depression and anxiety. I've felt myself being molded and shaped into something new; that shaping and molding hurts.

This year has also been incredibly wonderful. There have been countless miracles, small and big. I gained greater closeness with the people who are my real friends, took steps necessary to heal, received the news that dad's cancer is in remission after only three months of treatment, watched my sisters band together against the unkindness of classmates, learned that tough love is sometimes necessary, humbled myself enough to go through treatments that have improved my health exponentially, pulled a shocking 3.9 GPA despite all of the difficulties, did well in all of the jobs I had and made connections for future opportunities, made wonderful new friends and new insight about life and people, gained greater independence from living as I desire, and, as always, still wrestle with the darkness that works its way into my mind and heart. I have been molded and shaped into something new; that shaping and molding has been worth every bit of pain -- I'm happier than I ever have been in my entire life.

I've done things I never would have done before. I'm taking chances, making mistakes, getting messy in life -- I even let the dishes sit in the sink overnight now, rather than staying up late to clean the entire house because one little thing is out of place. I'm living my life -- I'm not letting memories and fear live it for me.

I'm still scared. I'm taking risks that a week ago I vowed I would never do. I'm considering new, big, exciting, terrifying things. And, I like it.

2012 has been full of ups and downs -- the downs were hard. Really hard. I'm not perfect, and I'm not complete yet. There's still a lot of shaping and molding needed. But I've learned this year that fear really is the opposite of faith. With faith, anything can happen. Literally anything. Dads who are given two to three years to live can suddenly be faced with fifteen to twenty years after only three months of cancer treatment. Finances can suddenly fall into place perfectly, with just enough left to hold over until the next paycheck comes through. People who are complete strangers can, in one conversation, say exactly what was needed to help heal a broken heart. Family and friends can stay close and get closer, no matter what happens. And girls who have been damaged, inside and outside, by guys can find themselves swept off their feet by good men in a matter of days.

Miracles happen. Fun happens. And mid all of the tears and sorrows, laughter happens. It happens a lot more than we'd think, if we let it.

woman of light...

Lately I've been trying to get in touch with the incredible people in the blogosphere. I've kept writing on my own, but I haven't read many of the blogs I used to when I was in high school.

As I was reconnecting, I noticed a remembrance button for a name I recognized. After doing a little digging, I received an email from one of the other women whose blog I love, informing me that my friend Char had passed away in June of last year.

I had no idea -- I didn't know Char in person, but I knew her through her words and her photographs. It's actually been really, really hard to wrap my head around. I read her stories all through my years in high school. Her photos, her words, her recipes, her advice, her music -- she was an absolutely beautiful, inspiring, and genuine friend. All of the things she wrote about meant so much to me when I was in my junior and senior year. I read her blog every time she posted, until I left the blog world settle into the new world of "grown up" that I had been tossed into.

Char stopped in to visit here every once in awhile. She commented on pictures from the dances I went to, saying that I looked lovely. That was a time when I was feeling like a rather ugly duckling; she didn't think so.

She gave me advice on how to see the world as a beautiful place.

She was real, you know. She was beautiful and smart and kind and funny. She helped me be stronger and better. She truly was, and is, a wonderful, exceptional, beautiful woman of light who touched my life.

I miss you, my friend. Until we meet in heaven -- I hope it's full of light and warmth and beauty. But of course it is, because guess what? You're an angel there now.