Dates are a fruit.

I have a lot of stuff I want to talk about, most of it is heavy and unpleasant but not today. It should be super evident that I write from the heart, my grammar and punctuation on these posts are atrocious. I’m glad to see that a whopping 25 of you have read my last post anyway (I’m not kidding that’s a lot). I said I had 100 friends the other day. I have like 300. I even got rid of 15 people who I haven't talked to in a couple years and have 50 unread friends requests I will continue to avoid. Holy shiz balls. I legit have at least mild interest in the well being of 300 people. How did that happen? I get out of my parents basement like twice a month. So I just proved myself a liar. Awesome.

ANYWAYYYYS let’s talk about my incredible talent to ruin dates. Also to generally repel the other sex, far, far away.

It probably has to do with the fact that overwhelm my dates with my walrus impression mad skillz. Or maybe that after gaining some weight, I have a Jay Leno chin. (Seriously, I have a terrible chin/double chin going on, my weight went straight there why????) It could also be that I aspire to be Jack Black and act like Dwight Schrute. I mean, I think being able to quote almost the entire Nacho Libre movie and episodes of the office is awesome. Past that the only thing I can do is fit an entire pancake in my mouth and eat eight tacos in one sitting. All in all I don't have a lot going for me.

We’re not discussing every case, because while it is few, some were actually horrifically embarrassing or really painful. So I’m going to throw out an honorable mention to all the people I’m not going to be talking about. Thank you all for disappointing me so, so much.

To kind of set up this topic, I want to tell you about the time I tried to kiss a boy. You know the movie Hitch? Seemed pretty good to me, straight forward, uncomplicated. Will Smith is the kind of guy I feel like everyone should be learning from. Well a long time ago I was playing night games with my crush. We ended up hiding behind the same bushes. It was quiet and a pretty cozy space with moonlight shining through the leaves on his face. I thought, this seems like a pretty good place to try to kiss someone, private and kind of cute that we both stumbled upon it. Of course I wasn’t thinking that he was cornered and trapped and had no easy way out and we were sitting in branches and wood chips. So I went for it. I went 90 (90% of the way) my heart pounding in my chest, I still had my eyes open because I had never done this before. He didn’t go the 10. I was not planning on this, I had to cover myself quickly, ‘smoothly’ I said “I gotchya!” and then laughed a really sad sounding awkward forced laugh. Ooops.

Rewind about two years ago. I set my friend up with this guy and they hit it off and they went to the velour to see my favorite band. I was pretty excited when they told me I should double  with them. I ended up being set up with his 16 year old cousin from North Dakota who I (luckily) will never see again. He was a nice guy, the hard feelings have nothing to do with him. We went to the velour and I got to see my favorite band and I saw this really cute guy who was not my date. As my friends were weaving through the people starting to leave, I looked at him one last time. We made eye contact then I turned around, he caught up to me and I ended up getting his number, I told him goodbye. I left in a dash and went outside to catch up to everyone, he ran out and said “Wait! I didn’t get your number!” I was MORTIFIED, I should've told him I would text him. Even though I had absolutely no interest in the nice 16 year old cousin with Justin Bieber hair returning to North Dakota in two weeks, I felt sooo bad. The rest of the night was a little painful, you don't come back from that. The night came to an end and my date walked me to my door, he looked at me awkwardly, I expected a hug but he just left. I thought maybe it was because the date was pretty awkward after the velour, then I got inside and looked in the entry mirror. My bra was just out and about for the whole world to see. My shirt had mostly unbuttoned itself and no one had said anything. I have no idea how long I had been exposed. Best feeling ever.

Last year, in the winter months I went out to eat at an Olive Garden (I swear I’m the only person on the planet that thinks it’s overrated) with a group of friends. I wanted to give a waiter with incredible facial hair my number. Medium story short, Our waitress was his fiance.Thank goodness I was able to dash.

Unfortunately this made me so nervous that when in December of last year when I met freaking Derek Morgan. I was waiting in a long line at Costa-Vida, It was then the single best looking human I’ve ever seen got in line behind me. He walked in and I immediately regretted my mildly homeless signature look. The toddler behind me kept smiling at him I thought, yes. Smile at him for all of us. Why god graced the Costa-Vida of pleasant grove at around 6 p.m. on December 15th 2015 I will never know. He smiled and looked at me and said “Isn’t she cute?” All I could do was stutter nervously “yes”. My mom still hadn't found her way in to join me. I tried to collect myself and then I turned around and informed him he could skip me. He asked “Why?... Are you waiting for someone?”

I’M SUCH AN IDIOT. WHY GOD DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? WHY? HE WAS SHOWING INTEREST IN ME IN MY NATURAL STATE. I CAN’T PICK UP ON ANYTHING.

I couldn’t believe he was talking to me and I said “Yeah... My mom.” I’m a freaking adult and I said I’m waiting on my mom, I coulve said anything but no. I said my mom. He then skipped me and I now understand he probably thought I was a minor. (Okay maybe he wasn’t interested because that would actually be crazy) On the way out HE WAS SITTING BY HIMSELF and I almost wrote on a napkin with my number on it but because of the waiter experience I didn’t do it. I let the most beautiful human I probably will ever see slip through my fingers. I will never forget you Costa-Vida man. Ever. I will name my first child after our brief moment together, he (or she) will be called sweet pork after our matching burritos. He was sitting by the door and on the way out I told him “You’re chromosomes have aligned beautifully.” Then I ran for cover. He laughed and thanked me as I left. That night I downloaded tinder hours later in an attempt to find that fine chocolate man. I remember the khakis he wore, the beanie, his incredible cardigan, the glasses the amazing suede blue oxfords. This is the one time I didn’t say enough.

I thought I found him (costa-boy) at one point and went on a tinder date with Marcus. He started playing footsies with me after he had told me he never wanted to settle down. He then implied he was ready to have kids. Who aspires to be a baby daddy? Really? That still tops most of the dates I’ve been on. He asked me what I was doing that night and I figured out that was an invitation to sleep with him, I’m sure I was quite the spectacle. I didn’t know what to say other than “You really don’t know that much about Mormons, do you?” That was fun.

After being cat-fished and a couple of dates that made me hate humanity a little bit more, I kind of took a break from dating and deleted tinder.

However, on Monday I went on a double (the second or third date of the year) with a friend. Her dad kept trying to set her up with this kid, so I figured I’d go along. Her date ended up reminding me of Michael Scott if he were an RM (returned Mormon missionary) , so that was interesting. I asked this kid I don’t really know, super nice also tall so that’s a plus.  I asked him what he wanted to do with his life and he gave a real answer and then said “Or I’ll be a male prostitute.” He’s pretty funny. I really had a nice time, he was super sarcastic and either laughed or pity laughed at all of my jokes. I was thinking that I did a good job, and that maybe there was a date number two.

I asked him based on his awesome appearance (he’s the same height as batman), then I found his personality made him better. Crazy rare occurrence. I only regretted about 25-30% of what I said, I was at an all time high for confidence post-date. When I was dropping him off I thanked him for coming. I expected him to just hop out, it was pretty casual. However, I was horrified when he gave me a high-five. To be fair it was in the car and I don’t really know him, but honestly doing nothing would have been better.

I’m for sure going to die alone. I got a high five on a date from someone who may become a prostitute. I received a “Hey, at best this was good but please keep your distance.” I had no idea if I should just leave him alone or if I can even talk to him as a friend. That just feels incredibly low.

Just to be sure that I wasn’t imagining the situation, and because I truly can't take hints, I texted him Thursday and told him thanks for coming. He didn’t respond.

It’s fine, I only have a class with him for the rest of the semester.

The whole “boys get rejected more” may be true, but I feel like I should be included in that group. I even have 7 missing hoodies between my friends. I know I’m only 19 (coming up on 20 feels WEIRD) and I don’t need a boyfriend. I thought I would just share the fact that I will probably be the captain of the virgin lips club forever. I’ll be okay, until someone replaces Freddy Krueger he will stay the man of my dreams. I’m going to go join a nunnery to hide all my failures, maybe I’ll see you around.  

Perfectionist.

I have a harmful mindset, it goes something like: If you can't get it exactly right, why try at all?

I've thought that for a long time and then I saw this and it had a HUGE impact on me.      

This is what I think every time I make a choice. I'd rather be an idiot than a coward. Lately, my middle name could either be regret or chicken nuggets, I'm full of both of those things. I'm sure there's some happy medium. I hope someday I can find it. I have been thinking that my self hatred is a thing of the past. But when I closely examine myself, it's so apparent. I sabotage myself all the time, I just don't realize it until after. I kind of joke around, I'll say stuff like "I had self-loathing for breakfast today." or "I'm not in love with myself but I can stand where I am, I am 'okay' with myself." I thought for a long time I've been really strong. But I haven't, I just have used something to distract and deflect my issues. I need to address the fact that my life has been a collection of embarrassing moments broken up by snacks. (Yeah, I stole that line from the internet, but it’s sooo good.)

The dichotomy between wanting to isolate myself so I can never be hurt and wanting to to be kind, to make friends, for people to like me is kind of tearing me apart. I need to put who I really am out there. I can't make it through life if all I ever do is hurt myself.

That gets hard, because I'm a little out there. I answer too honestly, and with too little tact. People aren't used to that, it freaks them out because they've been conditioned their whole lives to ask questions they don't want answers too. Also I laugh at my own jokes wayyyy too hard, I'm the only person who appreciates my morbid humor. But I'm going to try.

Because I'm so tired of thinking about how much I don't like myself. I'm tired of hearing "You are a failure. Who in their right mind would ever love you? No one. That's why you keep losing everyone you care about. You're not worth it. You should ashamed to even show your face." So much like that. I'm fighting an intensely in my brain. It's lasted so long and I'm beyond sick of it. I'm not saying I should think I'm the best thing that's ever happened to this planet, but I should be more proud of the things I do right. Like the number of pizzas I can eat all by myself. Or how I can put food humor In a post about depression and anxiety.

I get so nervous, and when I feel this way I either act like I have so much or so little self-confidence. I’ll share too much or too little, I'm super bubbly or so cold. I feel like I've thrown all my boundaries out a window, living my life like a broken camera lens, with no focus. So I'm going to write this. To remind myself to make more conscious choices. Because growth and comfort don't get along. I need to be braver than I have been.

When I'm by myself at night I lay there and think about all the dumb things I've ever done. I’ve memorised them, seriously I remember stuff from when I was twelve that I can’t get over. It makes me want to smash my brains out on a wall or literally light my past-self on fire. That's how I know I'm not over it, I should be able to forgive myself and move past the points in my life where I hoped I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. But I don't know how. Because even though I KNOW I'm not a worthless person, I still feel it.

Further more I HATE talking about stuff like this it because then people shower me with love, but it feels so artificial. It makes me nauseous, I find I can't trust them anymore. It’s easier to just act fine and be really goofy instead of  actually getting help. Because I just need reality. If someone can call it like they see it, and keep it raw then I appreciate what they have to say. I guess I want people to talk to me the same way as they would before I'm having a hard time. I HATE when people think I'm fishing for compliments, I'm not looking for anyone's pity. Just some of their thoughts. Without re-blogging something I already talked about too much, my ‘family’ in the past was really affectionate. It was all a facade, so I don’t like to show affection. Don’t buy me presents when it’s not a holiday, don’t tell me that you think I’m the sweetest girl you know. Don’t return a compliment just because I gave you one, I only give them (rarely because it’s incredibly difficult for me) if i’m being absolutely genuine. I’m afraid of my life resembling the past and having history repeat itself. When I say something bad about myself, I don't want people to say "no, you're not" because often times it's true. I'm not perfect. I don't want people to pretend that I am. But I feel like I need to talk about this, so here I go anyways.

Lucky me. I feel like I've caught on kind of slowly, but I'm grateful I'm not oblivious to my own bad behaviors. I can be accountable, and have true moments of self realization. I've achieved the first step which is recognizing the problem.

I need to stop pushing people who care about me away, stop 'joking' with them when the stuff I say is REALLY mean. I don't want to deal with my problems, i'd rather eat chips and go into a food coma. However, I need to learn how listen better, I'm so afraid of being alone with myself that I'm constantly spewing word garbage. I need to stop and analyze and really think. I need to be much more careful with what I say and who I say it too. I need to stop expecting perfection from myself. I need realistic, attainable goals. Because while I will never be perfect, if I don't try to be better, I'll be miserable.

I'd really appreciate any ideas on how to change bad thoughts. Not 'go to therapy' I've done that. A lot. Also if you leave a compliment that's overly sappy I WILL unfriend you. For reals, being gushy is GROSS. If you don’t know what to say, but would like to say something, tell me your favorite sauce for your nuggets. We can all bond over the incredible taste of honey mustard.

I appreciate all of you who took the time to read this whole thing. It’s long, redundant, and probably not a shining moment it your day. So, to help you feel a little bit more happy here’s this gem.

Religion

Sometimes, I look at my life and my heart just breaks all over again. I can't bear to get out of bed. I can't do it. The only thing that gives me motivation to move on is the notion of justice after death. I see us embrace, I know that I'll cry happy tears and my heart will be filled with light when I meet Jesus. I know that I will feel good for the rest of forever. I know he truly understands. Which is overwhelming and beautiful but makes me kind of sad because I know that's not something I'll have in my mortal life.

I know that Jesus probobally would never do this, ever. So don't let me taint JC's image for you. But some days when life feels too real I imagine after a wonderful and brief reunion he takes me to a different gate into heaven. Outside is my grandmother, much to my chagrin. The gates open and my heart sinks and she rushes to him. Never acknowledging her willful ignorance. Her lies, her voluntary actions that caused me so much pain. She just lies to herself all the way up to heaven. It's my greatest fear that she will never be caught. She will never acknowledge my suffering. Jesus stops her and is grabbing her arms he is smiling. He then promptly kicks her in the shin and says without breaking any eye contact "You dumb hoe." Yup. I fantasize over a called name and a small kick that will send her reeling into self realization. She will be a mess, and burst into tears. Jesus and I will magically drive away in a beautiful sunset in the bat mobile while flipping her off. That is heaven. That's what gives me hope. I know it's lame, and not very realistic, but at the very least it makes me laugh and puts me in a better mood. I know it will all be well.

Some people would be very offended that I would even think this way about 'the son of god' that this is intolerable and I must seek repentance. The Mormons with sticks up their butts so high, that they can't possibly think about understanding someone else's situation or pain. That's the bad of 'Mormon culture'. Not the doctrine. Most people are not so stupid to think, that my fantasy is as offensive as my grandmother lying and supporting a pedophile. But there are a very very stupid few.

I believe your religion is the relationship you have with god, or whatever you believe in. Saying I'm LDS (Mormon) doesn't really let people know how I feel. Yes I obey the commandments. Yes I'm christian, but you have no idea what I believe. We each have our own beliefs, no two people share the same exact vision of religion/god. I know we're supposed to have a perfect god. But being human I have no real concept of perfection, God is something unknowable. Untangle. Sometimes I think he's a really big jerk. I think that even prophets make mistakes, because they are not god. Don't let someone who titles themselves as a leader, a catholic, or an atheist, lead you to assume something about them. I have seen more Christianity in some Jews than I have in some 'Mormons'.

Utah county Mormon culture can be the farthest thing from christian. It blows my mind that what people really believe is the furthest thing from doctrine I've ever seen. We've been asked by our prophets not to get tattoos or many piercings, we believe our body is a gift from god and we want to treat it respectfully. How we're supposed to handle people who don't follow that commandment is with love and respect. Especially if they're not Mormon, how are they supposed to know?
Instead I've seen so many people quickly judge "Oh, they're going to hell for that." WHAT?!  God has a lot more to deal with than if someone got a picture on their skin. It might not be his favorite, but he has so many bigger fish to fry.

Another would be the a total double standard for modesty, if boys are shirtless it's cool, but if a girls in a bikini top/tank top she is NOT cool. Modesty was created to help avoided being objectified. If someone isn't modest, they aren't asking to be objectified. To those who look down on others for modesty, it's you who modesty was created to try to avoid :) I absolutely hate how at times, I feel Utah county church almost teaches rape culture. That's the most unokay thing in the world.

Not only does it push people away but it makes all Mormons look like assholes. We're not, in fact I'd say the majority have brains and can think before they speak. But the few crazies happen to be loud and ruin it for the rest of us. It's very disappointing. It's just so sad to see people treat swearing or tattoos or someone who drink socially or something small like a it's carnal sin. Something unforgivable.

That's just not the case. Jesus and God love everyone. Period. Some people less than others (murderers, rapists, you know the kind of people who deserve to be cheese grated into oblivion), but still more than any human could possibly fathom.

Jesus freaking loved the sick, the afflicted, the sinners. Jesus was homeless. He loved and forgave a woman who was supposed to be stoned to death. This is our role model, not hatred.

Where did the love from us go?

I really wish that in church we were taught, genuine love and compassion and how to communicate. Not Just Jesus said this, and by the way this is a sin. How you say something is just as important as what you say. I think that leaders don't necessarily know any better, and it's not EVERY leader. But even one person that teaches to shut people out is one too many. I think there should be room for everyone in our chapel.

You look like a scary tattooed biker mo-fo? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are. You're openly gay? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are. You don't know anything about religion and only have jeans? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are.
You're inactive because of some ass hole in a leadership position that destroyed your faith in humanity? Me too. It's hard but it's okay. Come as you are, you are loved for who you are.
Don't EVER be rude to someone who's left the church. Even if they are rude, even if they say things that break your heart (Be the bigger person). You don't know why they left.

I know a girl who confessed to her bishop she was date raped by a missionary who was at the time serving on a mission. He called up the missionary who told him it was consensual. The bishop demanded she repent. She left the church. She is a good person. She doesn't need your disapproval.

My bishop (from a long time ago) showed up to my hearing. He was there to support the pedophile. I will never forget what he looked like, what he said. I almost couldn't go anymore. I almost couldn't believe.

I know an incredible woman whose husband, who was supposed to be her companion for eternity. Left her and their child crying in their drive way and left his family for his wife's best friend. They then showed up pregnant at church with each other and this incredible woman had her recommend taken away for being too angry. Honestly I have words for her old bishop. There is no commandment about anger, but he seemed to disregard the one for adultery. She doesn't need your opinion of her choice to leave. She needs love, she needs to be shown she is wanted here.

I know a man who moved because the leadership and some of the neighbors in his ward supported his ex-wife who plead guilty to being a sex abuser of their foster children. I wouldn't be surprised if he never came back.

Regardless if the issues are handled or not, sometimes its' really hard to come back. Hopefully if you report something like this to someone higher up they will deal with it. But sometimes it's so traumatic and trust is so betrayed that you just can't. It doesn't matter that they've learned their lesson. That they apologized. Because the damage is already done. Because you can't trust whose been appointed 'by the lord'. Statistically the church does fairly well with dealing those who misuse their power but their policies MUST be updated. There should be MORE training for bishops, including some actual therapist coming in telling them this is what you do if abuse is reported. There should be SEVERE consequences if they disobey the rules, there should be PUBLIC apology. (Homies up in the church head quarters, contact me so you know what the people who have been burned want. Also if you have more questions on these incidents. It's not unreasonable. We just don't want to feel like garbage that the church stopped caring about.) To be fair, the church has done a pretty gosh darn good job of taking care of issues if you look at the stats, but even one issue unresolved is one too many. So don't slam them, give them constructive criticism so we can get somewhere.

Problem is God's not down here. He plays a game of telephone through a bunch of mortal idiots, who I'm sure often get it wrong. But they're trying.

Can you imagine what it would be like if a gay christian couple came through the doors of our church? I think some people would handle it better than others. But sadly I honestly believe they would be judged and feel unable to return. God forbid they actually feel welcome right?
You definitely don't have to agree with their choices, but you can still love them. If their actions don't hurt you, then don't judge them.

God loves you for where you are at. It's okay to be where you are, people expect perfection from others and are blind to their own imperfections. Don't let them take away religion for you. Don't let them shame you for coming how you are, (still be respectful, and please actually try) come how you are. You are loved for who you are.

This is why I only attend sacrament meeting. I renew my covenants I made with god and then get out. I'm coming how I am. Imperfect, confused, angry, conflicted. I don't necessarily fit in with the others in my ward. I don't necessarily agree with them on many issues. But I suck it up and go, because they can be different than me. I'm coming how I am, even if I think there are arrogant people.

My grandmother who is now a relief society president, and a temple worker really made me question my faith. How could god allow someone who did this to me to 'work for him'? For a while I thought I wanted no part of this. I felt utterly betrayed. Sometimes I still do a little. But I'm being brave. 'Mormon' does not define me or my religion. My religion is loving others, and trying to improve myself. My religion is my personal accountability and my relationship to god. Just because she calls herself a member does not mean we share the same religion. It's still hard. It still makes me angry that bishops believe her lies. It makes me angry that part of my family threw me under a bus as soon as it was convenient. But they will not take away religion from me. They're the kind of people who are offended by bare shoulders. They do not practice understanding and love, they practice shoving sticks up their butts.

I do not attend the temple. It kind of disgusts me that so many assume it's because I did something wrong. On the flip side there are A LOT of amazing Mormons who are very mormon-y who get it. Who are hurt when people generalize about Mormon culture. Who care about everyone. Don't let one crazy scare you away. Nope. It's because if I saw my grandma in a temple, there would be a physical fight some really poetic angry words and at the end of it she might be bald. Understanding that there are REALLY bad people in the temple scares me. I don't feel safe there anymore. That kind of breaks my heart. That's the focus of the LDS faith. Good thing it doesn't have to be the center of my religion. Love is what matters most to me. People who chastise or hate others for something they are uneducated about and don't understand are not who associate myself with. Even if they call themselves Mormon.

If you can find your religion in a TV show, a song, a person, a picture than find it and spend time thinking about it and with it. There have been plenty of times in my life where Les Miz has spoken more to my soul than relief society ever could. Find it in the mountains, in the small miracles you can see everyday. Don't be little *insert favorable cuss word here*. Listen to Kansas. You can do this. Jesus sends you love, fist bumps, and dogs to help you handle the bad stuff.

Find your own religion. Go against the grain. You are not defined by someone else's understanding of membership. We live by example. If you want to be loved and respected love and respect.

Be the person you needed.

I'm talking about the dawn of justice for a second, There are no spoilers :) If you don't follow it that's okay it will make sense in the end.

Batman is someone immensely important to me. Because when I felt like I couldn't do this anymore I looked at him and I knew he had felt the same way. I knew he understood what it felt like to live with so much guilt that you live with the monsters inside your head. The monster that is yourself. It is always saying "you're a damn coward." "Why didn't you try something else?" "You could've done something." It whispers to you constantly until all your mental strength is gone. The battles in your head so intense you honestly don't know if your going to destroy yourself. If the version of yourself you want to be will die.  Even if you can look at your situation logically, you believe it when you hear the monsters say "This is all your fault." Bruce Wayne's parents murder was not his fault and everyone on the planet could tell him that, but it wouldn't matter. It doesn't change he felt. How I felt.

Batman was formed out of a sense of honor, self inflicted pain, trying to right wrongs, trying to be the difference he needed as a child. These are reasons he doesn't kill. It's too traumatizing to him, to use the thing that destroyed his life. To become his own worst enemy. What makes batman a superhero is that he doesn't cross that line. It's unrealistic and sometimes illogical, but from a hurting human perspective it makes so much sense; it's truly incredible. He understands that even scumbags have family too. So when I saw batfleck with a gun, I knew I wasn't going to love this movie. If I didn't know the justice league, or care about them I would be liked the movie. But it fell so short of what it could've been, it freaking is pissing me off. Basically Zach Snyder has made a bunch of hipster impostors. Not the justice league. He also took the best stories from several story arcs and cheaply threw them in to start 'establishing the dc universe'. The thing is, they are going to suck because he's lost batman.  I hope he's really proud that he has cheapened a legend, an icon, a source of hope. He has officially earned a place on my list of peoples I'd like to punch in the face. He's playing god with characters, that have become people. I really was upset by that. P.S. Zack, get your own good ideas dude. Leave my batman alone.

I promise that was all relevant, and probably only a couple of you followed that. but Bruce grows up and strives to be the person he needed. When I look back on my life I see what I needed, what I would say to thirteen year old self if only I could. I'm trying to become the person I needed, to help myself and others. I honestly needed batman, someone who didn't sugar coat things. That did what was right, not politically correct, someone that understood everyone is important. Someone that gave as much as they could, someone doing their best to help everyone out. I feel like I fall so short of what I needed, I'm not batman. I'm not very smart. I'm not someone who can solve problems quickly. I'm not loud enough. I feel like even if I scream what I have to say at the top of my lungs no one hears me. I'm not a symbol. I don't mean a thing. At best I'm an annoying, overly opinionated, confused girl. I'm trying, really hard. But I don't change enough, I don't do enough. I don't think I'm enough. I'm glad I don't hear the monsters in my head as much as I used to. I'm glad that i'm compassionate, and blunt.

But I fall so short of what I needed.

What does that mean? Do I have purpose? Is this ever going to be worth it? I don't know. Without direction I'm swallowed up by the black waters in my mind. I don't know If I should sink or swim, I'm completely unoriented and while I'm thrashing in water. I can no longer see the goals or dreams I have for myself. I'm afraid. That's how I've felt for so long. Afraid. But I keep going. I know that this fear, the pain of never being enough is going to plague for the rest of my life. How can I ever be strong enough to help myself? To be able to save myself by saving someone else? But I fight it. I wake up. I don't feel anything for days on end. I don't sleep. But I keep going. Through the ptsd that fires at me when I least expect it, that turns my life into a war zone. The insomnia that takes all the strength I can muster some days. The night terrors, that make me afraid of my safety nets. The aching depression that ate away at me for so long I didn't know if I had a soul anymore. There are days where all I do is cry because I understand I probably have eighty more years of this. Still, I keep going.

I try to make it matter. By doing something so good one day that I can say this was worth it. I guess that's what bravery is. Wow, that makes me sound like a douche bag, pegging myself as brave. But I mean it, I choose to be brave. That's what I say to myself each morning before my monsters awake. "Choose to be brave. Choose to do whats right." I know that some days will be easier, and that some days I'll be drowning. But someday maybe I'll get there. Maybe I'll escape the waters that wash over me and dilute who I am with doubt. I guess that's the one advantage I have, one step closer to being batman.

Be the person you needed for direction when your life was too much to handle. Be your idol. Be your friend. Be who you want to be. Create yourself, instead of soul searching.  Even if you feel like your not enough, keep trying. You can make a difference. Hold onto yourself. I'm proud of you, and I promise If you're one of the five people who read this you made a difference to me.

Choose to be brave.

gratitude and for-granted

It takes a lot more than I thought it would for me to be pushed to write. Every time I try to start talking about my abuse my words come out jumbled and my heart races and my eyes water. It feels like I'm choking on air. I'll get there. I hope sooner rather than later, but I have to go at my own pace.

Today I'm going to write about what I'm grateful for and I what I feel is taken for-granted. It's easier to think about the good things even if you are a debbie-downer.

Today I'm grateful for the warm weathered winter. Winter used to be my favorite season, there's something so beautiful about a world blanketed in white and quiet. Waking up to clear mornings and cold tile floors, watching the sun rise and the world sparkle. Realizing that each snowflake compiles into thick ridges, I love how it's a collective effort. I love that the horizon matches the color of the sky and my whole world matches, unchanged, just simple white. But now I love a 'hot' winter it beats having  the metal in my mom's neck and back conducting the cold to the point where she has a hard time moving, or not getting migraines, or just throwing up. I also started having chronic hives last year. It lasted the six coldest months of the year, basically they show up because my body thinks it's a good idea (WHICH IT TOTALLY IS NOT. DUMB BODY) and they climb all over my skin and itch and burn. (They came back for this fall and winter, so shout out to them for at least being persistent) I mean I'm not really limited by the hives but they are so. Freaking. Inconvenient. Honestly, it makes me want to just take a potato peeler and just take off my skin. I feel like I could pull of being a muscly-skeleton. Too bad skin is an essential Organ. On the plus side I get to participate in no-shave-ever because if I do shave my sensitive skin will erupt in hives. My leg hair is getting pretty luxurious. I'm thinking I could definitely be a good lookin' Wookie. It's funny how I used to take for-granted just having a normal functioning body. I wish I could take it back, I don't really struggle too much with body image but WOW, I didn't even know how lucky I was.

I'm really grateful for the people who choose me. I've tried to write a couple thank you letters and would just get choked up. I can handle shade like nobody's business but if you're nice to me, I turn into a puddle of tears.

I'm so so so grateful Ms. Smithson. She gave me a necklace of a little witch on a broom, and a note about Hermione. I'm crying now just thinking about it. I wear it almost everyday. She never gave up on me during calculus. She spent a LOT of time with just me patiently re-explaining the same thing to me until I pretty sure her tongue turned to jelly. Calculus for me was the first class I really invested myself in, I normally could coast through school but Calc totally threw me for a loop.

I'm better now than I was and I'm still getting better, however I was REALLY emotionally unstable my sophomore year of high school. It carried into my junior year. Calculus was basically my only constant. It pushed me to grow in so many more ways than I can explain. I remember on a particularly bad day I was contemplating suicide, and I realized that if I attempted and was saved I would still have to make up my math homework. That made me laugh hysterically while I was crying. Couldn't try to do it that night, that was for sure. If I was going to stick around I was NOT GOING TO GET BEHIND IN MATH. So that night I found a reason to stay alive. It was homework. If that's not the lamest thing I've ever heard I don't know what is.

Math kept me going in one way or another. Class was so  comforting, I didn't have to talk to my peers, I could just focus on math. There were definitely some friends who I talked to. But it was ALWAYS about math. Brooke Baker is one of the smartest kids I know, she could've done her homework in class and finished. But instead she walked me through it step by step (which must have been painfully slow to her) that way I could practice and ask questions before I did it at my own house for hours. I hope she knows that her kindness saved my grades and my sanity. Everyday I could go into class and  I didn't drain myself because of other kids. I just did math. It was so hard. I even yelled Satan one time in math lab, because I was pretty sure that's where my assignment came from. Now, I can honestly say I love math. I don't know if I'd be around without it.

I love that there is a right and a wrong answer. I clearly defined line in the sand. Not like people who change their ideas and standards, or never give you a straight answer, leaving you hanging off the words they never meant. Math is so intricate and beautiful. Really everything is math. I started to be able to see that thanks to you Amy. It was so nice to be able to have a place in my life where the answers were all black and white. Another thing is Ms. Smithson never gave up on me. When I got the same problem wrong five times in a row, you didn't get frustrated. You didn't leave me behind. You held out for me,which is so much more than I could ever ask for. Beyond that she's my friend, she chooses to care about me. If I could be half the person she is, I would feel pretty good. I genuinely hope someday I can change somebody's life the way she changed mine.

So Amy, I want you to know I love you sooooo much (I'm pretty sure the most, sorry Kirby.)  you are absolutely one of the most talented, sassy, lovely humans I've ever met. Thank you for giving me hope, that I could do something, that I could accomplish something. That I was going to be okay. You were right, but I didn't know If I dared even try to believe theta in high school.

I wish I would've said all of this so much earlier because In case you hadn't heard there was a pretty scary lock down at PGHS. Luckily it was a fake threat, but when it started all the things I hadn't said started to come out a lot easier. I'm so grateful that everyone is okay because I can't imagine not being able to talk to you again. Yet another thing I took for-granted.

The secretaries (I don't even know where to begin with these ladies, they were probably my best friends in high school), principles (especially Mrs. Thomas), and Ms. Shelton (I will always be grateful that we read what we did, That literature changed my life. Minus Wuthering heights. I HATE THAT BOOK.) and Mr. VanDijk (I can honestly say the strongest thing to build my testimony was biology. And you taught that so well. I also love that you call me Batmadi. Best nick-name ever) definitely deserve a shout out too. All the staff do. I cannot believe the kindness I was given by the administration. If only those gosh darn teenagers weren't there my high school experience would've been the most enviable of all, even in my own fantasy it wouldn't included me.

I've also wanted to say thank you to the people who've chosen to be My family. I don't know where i'd be without them. I have some of the greatest uncles on the planet and they're not even related to me. Craig, Dan, Sean you guys are the best. Thank you for letting me talk to you about batman, movies, and books. Thanks for letting me chat off your ears. Thanks for sharing your life with me and treating me like an equal. THANK YOU. Thank you Dez for being the most amazing neighbor ever, thank you for teaching me about people who inspired the nation as well as mid-evil torture (totally was gross, but so cool.) Thanks to my sweet friends that have chosen to stick with me. Through the really bad times. Especially to Kyndal and her sweet mom for coming to my court. For choosing to give up hours and hours of your time, and listening to what happened to me. It is so comforting that I don't have to explain things to you. That you get why I'm so weird and obsessed with Harry Potter. That you understand why I'm sensitive. Because I think it would've been totally acceptable to peace out. Leave my crazy behind. Gunnar and Bec you guys better believe you're on the top of this list too.

Thank you to my awesome parents who I love so much. Thanks to my little brothers who are the most perfect (sometimes annoying) boys I've ever met. Thank you Steve and Rosie for thinking of me and sending the most amazing batman mugs of LIFE. Thanks to my actual Biological family that knows who I am. Thanks to Dean Trippe. Thanks to Sue. Thanks to Hannah. Thanks to Batman, Hermione, Harry potter, Ron. To Jessica, who is totally the best home projector I've ever met. Thank you to my young women's leaders and Ashley and Chris. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I know that I'm going to have to fill the holes inside my heart on my own. But I know If I ever feel weak I have so many people to encourage and strengthen me. All I'd have to do is ask. I want you to know If I tried saying this to your face I'd get out two words and then sob. So when you see me around just know this is how I feel.

Even though I know I'm still taking so much for granted, thank you.

If you've finished reading this You deserve an award and a THANK YOU!
 
Here you go. If you'll excuse me, I'm now bawling and going to watch Justice League. I won't stop bawling, because it's justice league. Well, If you need me I'll be crying because of something. Have a lovely day, or a good night.

I'm no fancy blogger, who bakes gluten-free no msg meals that look like art, or someone who looks good all the time and can post about how to get radiant skin. I'm far from, but I still have something to say. Education is the key to fixing societal issues, and to help me fight for justice and understanding. The horrible honest truth is that I was a victim of child sex abuse by my grandfather for a couple of years.  I didn't tell my parents, I denied (at the beginning) that it even happened. I buried it in my head far and deep down away from myself when I was seven or eight years old and it continued until I was twelve. I had the signs of an abuse victim, but because my parents had no insight into what was going on they didn't know. This is the first thing I'd like to say. Educate yourself on sex abuse stats and signs before you have to learn first hand.

"Over the course of their lifetime, 28% of U.S. youth ages 14 to 17 had been sexually victimized" http://www.victimsofcrime.org/ that's between a third and fourth of my peers. And it includes me. People want to avoid the topic because it's hard and fugly. The problem with this is that people don't understand what it does to a person, or have any clue how to address it and show support. People don't want to know about the ugly until it's their problem, which is fair because it's scary but then they tend to depreciate the severity of it. If we can change the way we think before it's an immediate issue maybe there's a fighting chance at change.  Most sexual abuse victims are victimized by a family member or family friend, making stranger-danger not as relevant as perhaps people thought. That is a hard concept to wrestle with. 

please see: http://www.victimsofcrime.org/media/reporting-on-child-sexual-abuse/statistics-on-perpetrators-of-csa That's just the brutal truth. 

There's also a lack of understanding and education about sex abuse, I think health education in high-school should be required to define and explain different kinds of sexual abuse and the proper steps to take action against the predator and receive help if someone is sexually abused. It's a big freaking deal and too many people are not taken seriously. If one person says it's rape and the other says it's consensual sex- it's rape. Liars (surprise) are good at lying. What makes me sick is how few people really grasp that concept. I understand that there are exceptions to every rule but that is the general rule. period. Predators also tend to have fairly small jail time, especially if they're women. This is unacceptable, it feels like you've died inside and that something was taken from you. That not even your own body is safe from the people around you, that you have no control. It's terrifying and the punishment should be just as severe as the abuses' consequences. I know not everyone who's been abused feels the same way, some people handle it better than others. Imagine if it happened to your loved one, your child by someone you thought you could trust your whole life. After that crippling betrayal, your kid would wake up terrified from nightmares, or cry, or cut themselves, or start on a path to self-destruction. You watch as they begin endless bad relationships and watch as they start sinking. If you can picture that I'm pretty sure that you would feel the same disgust for the lack of concern and education on the matter.

My abuse has affected me hugely about how I feel about others, but what it did physiologically to the way I think is what the real issue is. In my head, I lived in total pain for so long, but on the outside if I have my needs then people immediately rule that I'm being ungrateful or having first world problems. It's hard to be in a place where you always feel sick and like vomiting all the time. Where if you see a certain car or color of hair you immediately start panicking and feel like you're being crushed and your heart starts uncontrollably racing. It's hard to listen to teenagers joke about the word rape or pedophile because they don't know shit about what they're saying. It's hard all the time, and I literally processes information differently because of the chemical imbalance in my brain. If people could see how sickness of the mind works like a physical injury I feel like I would look like Freddy Kruger (people would leave me alone and I could wear a fedora. I wouldn't be mad at all). Then maybe people could see the struggle and learn to be supportive. 

There's also a HUGE misconception that the abused becomes the abusers. A high percentage of abusers were abused, however a low percentage of those who are sexually abused actually become sexual predators because they know how it feels. But hearing about ‘the cycle’ on T.V. or as a justification to what's been done is hard and it made me feel like I was trapped. Like the world thought I was destined to become what had destroyed my life. I'm having a hard time finding a source for that but I heard it from another abuse survivor Dean Trippe, who I met at San Deigo Comic-Con 2014. He wrote a comic called Something Terrible. Read the short version here: http://www.tencentticker.com/somethingterrible/

If you haven't read it yet, do it. Otherwise none of this is going to make sense.

seriously. Go read it.

The first time I read it I completely lost it. I used Batman to 'escape' my abuse too. I cannot tell you how important the Dark Knight is to me. He is more than a story he is more than a fictional character. He is a hugely complex man with severe pain, and then he decides to fight a battle he know's he'll lose. To try to make sure no one ever suffers like him again. It is the most hopeful and beautiful idea, sacrificing yourself in the service of others out of sympathy and empathy, he is a very flawed Christ figure. An entirely human one. He doesn't know how to say what he feels or even what he feels sometimes. He has an irrational way of thinking but through all his weakness he chooses to be Batman. He chooses to fight crime and corruption, he chooses to care enough about others to solve their problems. He chooses everyone else over himself every single time. I love Bruce Wayne, even though he can be the biggest jerk-wad ever. Sometimes I just want to yell at him to be nice, but that would defeat the whole dark theme. 

Luckily he has his Alfred, his mentor and father figure who totally reinforces and helps Batman choose the right and become an incorruptible symbol. Batman's kind of like me because I have an Alfred too. Her name is Mom. She and Alfred have the best super-power ever, it's called guerrilla parenting. But you know, I'm not a billionaire, also I hate exercising so I have no muscles, and I don't have a totally bitchin' costume. Damn it. I never thought I would find a way to express myself in a way that someone else would understand, that's why Batman is so important to me. People laugh it off when I bring it up, but I would punch someone in the face defending the caped crusader because he's done more for me than most 'real people' (I know more about him then I know about most the people who will read this- he's real to me) ever can or will. 

Dean Trippe put the thoughts that were bouncing in my skull at a million miles per hour and channeled it into words. It was unreal to finally feel like I wasn't alone because I had been afraid of myself so long after hearing about the cycle of the abused to abuser. I never believed that I was worth anything, I was treated like garbage from such a young age that I didn't understand that I would ever be worth something. It took me a really really long time to believe I mattered. That I had an opinion that mattered, that I am just as important as any celebrity or inspirational leader I've heard of. I have to say, I don't love myself. But I'm finally at a point of being okay with who I am. 

Sometimes my opinion is a little too big and imposing but I'm not afraid to stand up for myself anymore. I'm secure in being myself and not being okay. I understand that everyone goes through hard shit. Predators often use the excuse of abuse for their actions, but everyone goes through huge crap in their lives. It doesn't make yours suck any less but do not think for a moment you know a person, or that your life is harder than theirs. That was hard for me to learn but I don't have time for lots pity parties. (But to be fair no ones perfect and I spend a good amount of time brooding.)

Now comes the hard part. Backstory. Every hero has a tragic one, so I guess I'm one step closer to Batman.“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.” That's from Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. (Try saying that name ten times fast). Because of my abuse and the pain, I've felt I'm at least a litter better at being able to see outside myself which I truly believe few people ever (try to) do. It's a bittersweet thing and I feel I have learned through years of therapy how to maintain an emotionally healthy relationship. Thank goodness, because I've had some real anger issues. I mean who wouldn't but It was more destructive to me than being angry helped me deal with the pain. I'm not saying to not be angry. In fact, I'm really really angry. But I can channel it appropriately (Another check on the 'Batman' list) and use my pain and knowledge to help expose and fight the bad guys. Because the law didn't do it for me. 

I'm going to write more about this later but it's hard to even type when your eyes are so filled with tears you can't see. What really hurt me was more than the sexual abuse it was debilitating emotional abuse from not only my biological grandfather but my extended family. It's hard to think about someone who told you they love you leaving you to hang out to dry, that they'll choose the ignorant bliss over your truth. They decided to justify their actions against me as self-preservation when all I really needed was support and honesty. One called and asked if I was lying. that's the last time I remember hearing from them. I have a lot to say about them. So much. I hope someday there is a justice and they feel the pain they dealt out, that it makes their mouth dry and their stomachs churn. I hope they have nightmares every night like I did and that they understand that there is pain so deep that death sounds like a release. I hope like they feel like they've died a little too. I hope they actually for once they have full comprehension of their choices. I don't wish them physical pain (most days) I wish them self-reflection so deep it pierces them through their ignorance. But I can't talk about it all today.

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

― Desmond Tutu