Winds of Change

Each time I write a post something big seems to happen in my life. It may be something good, it may be something bad. Lately I have found myself thinking about my time spent here in college. I have made the decision to stop with an Associates degree and pursue so.ethi g different perferably working with at risk youth. The thought of graduating from college in about a month has me feeling all kinds of weird things. This has also allowed me to reflect on my time spent here.

For this program, I had to fill out an experience form that tells what I have done/ taken part in while attending school here. As I began ti fill this out I found myself a little disappointed. I had noticed a pattern that I seem have never been able to out run. Due to being a very quiet person and not the most assertive I find myself often overlooked by others and even forgotten. This happens a lot.

During my time of attending school here I have been in three different friend groups with about six people excluding me. People come, stay for a semester, and leave. The turn-over is awful here. Off all these people from these different groups, I still keep in contact with two maybe three. I find it a little discouraging to be honest. Tiz another pattern that seems to form in my life that continues to feed my longing for consistency.

Apologies for the somewhat rant or half post, toz all I can think of at the moment. Good night lads/lasses. X

The Intern

Man, it has been a while since I have posted anything here. To be honest, I am not the best with words nor do I find much of anything I do very interesting. This summer was probably one of the most stressful and discouraging part of my life. I have never felt more betrayed by a place that I hold a deep fondness for.
This summer had the chance to do my internship at my home church. I thought this would be a great opportunity to get to know the people more at my church and make things a little easier on the social aspect. I had pretty full summer, Wednesday night classes, Sunday morning teaching, three weeks of camp, a week of drumming, a mini mission trip, CIY, and VBS. Along with all that, office hours. I was fairly busy.


 My first week of camp was awful, nobody listened in the class and straight up told me they would not due to my gender and the fact that I was not much older than them. Second week I was unexpected dorm mum and nurse. We also had a really bad sickness going around camp. I cleaned up a lot of vomit. I also had to fill in for someone on a class. Third week of camp was canceled. Between the first two being back to back, I was beat. I had about a week or two I between events that I spent in the office doing lesson prep and gathering my supplies. The kids had a blast on Wednesday nights. We walked through the 40 years in the wilderness. They even got to build tents out of PVC. It was also during this time that I let the stresses of life get to me and messed things up with my significant other.


The next big trip was to a school in Arkansas. I went on a mini mission trip with the middle school kids. While we were here, we cleaned up their gardens, transplanted tulips, and deep cleaned the school. It wad also on this trip that I got stung by a red wasp smack dab in the center on top of my hand. Within a 5 hour span, my hand was swollen to my fingertips all the up to my elbow. Freakin savage. I ended every evening with a small reflection of the day and verse or two from the book of Philippines.

Following this was CIY. Again I only had one day I between the two to do laundry. This week legit kicked me in the feels. We walked through the book of Ephesians each night in the main session and talked a little bit after them. Small groups were also different and were more about getting to know one another more and building a stronger relationship with one another. It was here that I shared my story for the first time, every detail with 13 kids that I have been working with the entire summer, with adults that had watched me grow up in the church and had no idea. I was not cool with it at first, but God uses that to impact more than what we think.

For our extended recreation, we went to and Escape Room. We were split into two groups and locked in a room. We had an hour to escape. My group was two steps away, the other group had four. Overall, the trip was a blast. I got to grow closer with a lot of the kids and even some of the adults.
Following this was VBS. I was in charge of games. All of them were water games, so that was fun. It was also during this time that I got to fix things with my significant other, so that made things better as well.


So as you read this you are like yo...what is so discouraging about all of this? My first week of camp made me feel like a failure, nothing went right, nobody really cares, and the kids smeared ink all over my stuff. Following this were two board meetings that I got to attend. In both of these, the role of women in the church was brought up. This has been an issue that I had fought before, but have been able to drop it. This went on for two months and the main elders basically decided that a woman cannot: Give communion meditation, pass offering plates, pass communion plate, speak doctrine, or teach a class even if it is not on a "standard" church night. She is to have mo authority over man at all. Heaven forbid a man show up and want to learn something from a woman. As you can tell I am a little bitter. To say that is stupid, if someone has knowledge let them share it. If God has blessed a female with knowledge do not let her keep it to herself, let her share it with others.
As an end result to all of this I was basically told that yes, we support your choice, yes we support you, but you will never be a youth minister; the only thing you can be is a minister's wife. This enraged me, it is an insult. It is basically saying you are not good enough, your voice does not matter. I got this from my home church. It crushed me. It made me angry, and it severely discouraged to the point that I do not even want to be here this semester. I still have the feeling, it is hard to battle sometimes. Even now, being here with my profs and fellow classmates it is hard to stay encouraged about such things.
Well that is about all I have for right now. Going to a steam punk festival this weekend, followed by a trip to an amusement park the next weekend. So many adventures, may post about them! Stay fabulous! X

Vacation.....

For the past three months I have been waiting for this past week, to go back home to Michigan. I had plans to go with a friend and then he got scheduled to work. I had pretty much decided that I was just going to go like I normally do...alone. Then as I got to thinking about everything I was like “hey, my cousin never comes and maybe she would like to.” So I called her up and asked if she wanted to come. I had made plans for us to go to Michigan Adventure, the Soda Fountain, and my other cousin's wedding with me.

The car ride up wasn't so bad, tiz a twelve hour drive. We got in around seven Michigan time. Excited and on the verge to bust a gut, I bypassed my grandma and ran right for the restroom. Once out, I gave her the proper greeting she deserved, then unloaded everyone's stuff from the car. Thursday we woke up a little late and did some work in the yard for my grandma and then went to the beach for some sunset pictures. We ended up going a little to early so I did not some good ones like I did the last time. There were some lads out jumping the waves on jet skis it was fun to watch that. Occasionally they fell off or tipped upside down. The beach was a mess, I was sad to see it in that state. With all the ice they had this year and the glaciers melting, it had washed up some nasty stuff on the beach.

Friday we stopped by to see my grandpa. About a month ago, I received a phone call saying that he was not doing well at all. His heart was only working at 25% even with the pump that he had. Being the age he was, he was no longer a good candidate for heart surgery. Knowing I would have much time any other day except for Sunday, I went and saw him before I went to the amusement park. We had a very nice visit, caught up with each other, joked around, my cousin got to talk to him for a bit , she hadn't seen him in about three years. After saying our bye's my cousin and I went to Michigan Adventure and I must say, it was a blast. The first place we went was Shivering Timbers. It used to be, I do not know if it still is, but at the time of it's building it was the country's largest wooden roller coaster. After that, we made our way through the park, the lines weren't to awfully bad, and it was the perfect day to be outside. It was the first time in a long time I had seen my cousin truly happy. Our day did not end there. We left the park around six and headed up to a horse camp where some of my Mum's friends were staying. I got the privilege of doing what I would normally do while attending that same camp; starting the fire for the evening gathering.

Sitting around the fire was nice. I saw some people I had met the year before and some new faces. I did not contribute much the conversations, I was pretty tired. The adults were talking about proposal stories, how cheap gas used to be and what they would do as teenagers. I ended up talking to a lad that was across from me about books.

Saturday was an over all fantastically terrible day. I woke up late so I missed breakfast with my grandpa and the rest of the family. My grandma that we were staying with was rushed to urgent care first thing. Once we got back, it was time to get ready for the wedding we were attending while being home. We left the house with my aunt and uncle. The wedding was nice, I can't say I enjoy weddings, but this one was rather nice and very pretty. It was outside a church surrounded by pines with a little stage. The church had called it “Chapel in the Pines”. We went back to the house after that then headed to the VFW hall for the reception. I can't say I remember much of the reception sadly, what I do remember brings tears to my eyes. For the past three weeks I have been suffering from headaches that gradually shift into migraines. At the reception, I was borderline migraine. I had a small conversation with my grandpa then just kind of zoned out trying to blot out the noise. When he got up and left, I had not idea that it was the last time I was going to talk to him. We had all made plans to eat breakfast together Sunday morning. We left early from the reception to help my aunt do chores for her daughter. On our way out to the house we were going to, we got a phone call. It was my grandpa, he had collapsed. When we got to the location, he was on the ground with paramedics surrounding him. This was my last memory of him. I took for granted that I was going to see him Sunday, I didn't tell him “bye” I didn't say “I love you” after I talked to him last. In fact his last words to me were “I wish you would smile more” those words hurt, my response was to shrug it off. I did not sleep Saturday night, every time I closed my eyes I saw him laying there with the paramedics working on him.

Sunday I woke up a mess. We all did. Mum had a surprise graduation party planned for me and she still went through with it. She insisted that it was what he would have wanted. I didn’t want to say no, to be honest part of me thought it would at least be good for the family to be together. I could slap on a smile and act happy for a few hours. That is what I did, when everyone left I went to sleep. We left Monday morning early and got back around eight that evening. The car was filled with an awkward silence none of us really wanting to say anything.

I can't say this has been my particularly favourite vacation, if anything it had set me back more than it has helped. Seeing someone you love die and then thinking of all the things you should have said, things you should have done, it kills you. I can't say I'm really ready to talk about it yet, honestly I cried the whole time I typed this. The only thing different about dealing with this is that I am not alone this time. I have friends that I made in college that are here for me, just a phone call away. x

Runner

 One thing I enjoy doing is running. I run a lot. Towards the beginning of this year, I was training to run a 50 miler with my youth minister just for giggles.....and to say “I ran 50 miles...once” chances are I would not do it again. So I'll give you a little history as to when I started running. One day...I was born...then I learned to run.

That is not entirely true, there were some other steps (get it) in between those two events. At a young age, I discovered that I could run. Not only could I run, but I could run fast and for a long time without getting tired. This came in handy at places like recess, I could GET AWAY from the kids bullying me. Get Away: this became a key term in developing my love of running. If I could run away from people to get away, why not do it when I am home. The more I thought about it, the more it stood out to me. Running became a time for me to get away from the house, get away from people, and just isolate myself in my thoughts. Normally this was a bad thing to do, isolation and thoughts those just lead to not decisions.

I started serious running my sixth grade year. For the first few years of my life, I blocked out all of the things that had happened to me. I basically made myself not remember them. The summer of my fifth grade year, my biological mother decided to step back into my life. Feeling ready enough to give her a chance to see if she had truly changed, I went to visit her for about a week. The first two days were fine, I thought maybe she had changed, that we could be a family again, that I did belong here and I did fit. The third night she and her current boy-friend had gotten into an argument. Things were thrown, they were yelling, I hid in my brothers room terrified. I do not remember quite sure what happened the days after that, I just know that I was ready to go back “home”.

It was shortly after that week that I started to remember things. I had flashbacks, episodes, a certain movement could trigger something and I would freeze. I did not want to talk to anybody about this, why would they believe me? They all said I was to young to remember anything, my response to that is pain makes you remember a lot of things that you wish you could forget. To avoid talking to anybody about this, I would just go for a run. Running took everything off my mind. I am a goal oriented person so when running my goal is to make it to point A to point B and back to A in this set time or better. For about two years it became a get away. My eighth grade year I started using it as me and God time. I would go for a run and pray, talk to God about the day.

Freshman year sucked as you have read in my other blog Honest Life.I decided to join cross country this year as well. I liked running, I was good at it, why not do it competitively? In practice I found myself running alone and again used this time to just think about the day, class work, deep questions I had “saved for a later time”. This became a daily thing for me. After school I would change into my running gear, stretch with the team, and take off on my run lost in thoughts. This lasted until my last race, it was a week after my suicide attempt. I had been training for the SCA's and our final race was on a track I knew very well, happened to be my favourite. I was coming down the final hill just before hitting the half mile mark, it was my usual speed up point. Having rained the day before, the path was a little washed out so I took it a little slower than normal to avoid causing any injury. It turned out that my cautiousness had gotten the best of me. I don't remember how, but I ended up close to a tree root that had been exposed due to the rain. Stepping to the side to avoid it, I ended up planting my foot in a hole and caught it on a root slamming my knee backwards, ultimately hyper-extending my knee. Being the intelligent person I am, I finished my race qualifying for State.

I did not run at State, I did not stay off my feet long enough to let my knee heal. My Sophomore year I made it halfway through the season before I blew it out again. After that, hung up my shoes and gave up on running. I turned to art and music. This year, I am excited because the college I am attending has cross country. Being passionate about running still, I have decided to give it a try one last time. I have been conditioning for the past four months, prepping myself for the season ahead. My goal is to run smart and not over do myself, I don't want to let something I love doing fall in the dust again. There have been to many times where I have quit doing something that I love, I am not going to let go of running. It is my get away, my God time, and my thinking time. If there is something your truly love doing, don't give up on it, don't let go of it, pursue it. Hebrews 12:1 “...run with endurance...” x

Home

 I am home for the summer. I should be happy about that right? I should be excited and filled with joy. I get to spend time with my family that is never home. I get to see all the people who I went to college to get away from for like 3 months. I should embrace everyone I have missed while being away. Tell them just how much I missed their faces, or how glad I am to see them. But, I am not. I am not happy to be home, I am not happy to be back in this dreadful town, I left for a reason. If it was not for my one friend, I would have not come back. It is amazing how much one person can affect the choices you decided to make in life. I have been back a week and am already counting down the days until I can go back. 102 days if you would like to know.

Since I have been back, I have had about 8 phone calls, each asking the same question; “Are you going to walk with your class?” To each I respond, “no.” They were all followed by the same response, “why.” I gave the first truth, I was told by the principle I was not allowed to walk with them. Which...I did not really care, I was not going to show up anyway. That seemed to work until my parents asked why. They do not know much of what happened in school or what I have done so I basically told them this: “I left for a reason, I do not like the people in my class, I cannot stand them, I want nothing to do with them.” My dad could care less, my Mum was a little upset but she got over it. I am my own class technically. Class of 2014 ½.

I would like to say I am one of those kids that has the perfect relationship with there parents, but I am not. When I was younger they were heavily involved in my life, once I hit 4^th grade, I began to shut them out, I shut out everyone. I continued this all the way up until now. There are things I cannot bring myself to tell them. There are things I do not want to talk to them about. If they ask a question, I'll answer, it may not be the answer they want to hear or the answer they expected. Coming home occasionally throughout the semester, they began to realize just how much I have 'grown up.' It is not that I have grown up, it is that I just gave up. I am tired of trying to act like there is nothing wrong, if something is wrong or I disagree, I say something about it.

This month and the past month has kind of sucked for me. I have been dreading this summer because I know what it will entitle. Work...work...and...more work. Not that work is bad, I mean I can get a car and hopefully pay some on the bloody loan I had to take out in order to attend school this year. I am currently attending college in hopes of receiving a bachelor in Youth and Family Ministry, but with the way things are going and the things that I have been told, I feel as if my major and study are pointless. I always understood that women could not be preachers. In the Bible it says not to let a woman hold an authoritative position in the church.

I called my church towards the beginning of April and asked if I could give a communion meditation. My preacher said it would be fine, my youth minister said he saw nothing wrong with it, but the church elders said “no.” Not going to lie, I did feel a little hurt, but I did not take it personal. I was told by the elder that the communion meditation was an authoritative position. He backed this up by saying it was a place he saw for teaching and during this time, it would be giving me authority over men in the church. I did not agree with his statement, but out of respect I let it drop and quietly walked downstairs to my class. This did not shake me at first, I kind of brushed it off at first. I had friend's from school with me that weekend so I did not want them to see me upset. I pushed it off and pushed it off until it basically began to just creep in my thoughts and eat me. I began to think about everything going on in my church the good and the bad. I began to think about positions and what I could and could not do in the church. I grew up working audio/sound for the church and for youth group, as I got older, I began helping with Wee Worship, and even Children's Church. I know this counts as serving, but there is nothing in the Bible that says a woman cannot pass the plate during offering or communion. There is nothing that says a woman cannot give a meditation. I apologize if I sound like a feminist, I promise I am not. My thing is, I plan and feel called to be a Youth and Family Minister, how can I do that if I cannot give a communion meditation? The more I compared church to the church in Acts, the more upset I became. What has happened to the church today?

On a different, more interesting note, I do get to go back home for a full week this year!! I am super excited for that, I cannot remember the last time I got to stay more than 5 days in my home state of Michigan. Right now, that seems to be the only good thing I have going for me this summer unless I can find a time to run back up to school to see some friends. Hopefully that will happen, looking forward to at least one day of disk golf and just catching up over what part of the summer has passed. I feel as if I live a double life almost. Here back home, I am the quiet reclusive person that hides in their quietly playing on the keyboard or strumming on the guitar. I leave to go to work where I just do my job and listen to music, then come home to go back to my room. At school, I am a tad bit more social. I can joke around a bit, I have a couple of friends that I really connect with and can talk to easily. I spend time with people and actually enjoy it. Sometimes it is just me laying there listening to them type as they write a paper or talk to themselves in order to study. Whoever said that people need to socialize in order to hangout was wrong. Sometimes just being in the presence of a really good friend and saying absolutely nothing is the best thing. For me anyway.

Well, I think I am done boring you with my rants. Maybe I'll find something other than my boring life to blog about. Chances of that happening are slim, who knows...maybe you will get something or learn something. I hope to do some deep theological blogs in the future, but the chances of that actually happening are well probably good. I have all summer.... 102 more days before I go back to school, surely I will be doing some reading in that time...anyway, have a fantastic day! x

Honest Life

Seems like everywhere I go, everything I have been reading lately, or the things I see on the news have to deal with death. It is kind of ironic for me. This past week my mind has been bogged down with questions from the past. Questions I am never going to know the answers to. I find myself thinking back to almost exactly three years ago. Laying on my floor wishing my own life would end. I watched as my blood pooled on my bedroom floor. I had thought about it many times but had never actually gone through with it until that night. I had had enough of everything; enough pain from my past, enough of being bullied, enough of not feeling wanted.

As I got dizzy, I began to realize what exactly I had done. Pulling myself up, I stumbled to the kitchen then to the bathroom. I remember spilling cornstarch across my wrist to stop the bleeding, I was to the point of freaking out. For once in my life I was truly afraid. Pressing the rag down, I did the best I could to clean up my mess while stopping the bleeding. Everything after that just kind of blurred together. I threw the rags in a plastic bag and then in my closet. I managed to stop the bleeding and just wrapped a bandanna around my wrist and went to bed. I was a really smart kid...I should have gone to the hospital...ultimately...I should have died. It was during this time, the time fear struck and quit that I realized just how fragile life truly was. I realized that in any moment my life could end and I was not as ready to die as I thought I was.

Here I am three years later, I look at my arms and my shoulders lined with scars. Some are newer than others. I look at them and think that each one of these has a story. A few nights ago I was hanging out with one of my friends that I have made this semester. He was the second person I had told about my suicide attempt and soon found out that I was not the only one who had failed. The more we talked, the more I began to realize that he was someone who understood the pain I was feeling. When he dropped me back off at campus, I began to reflect over everything we had talked about. I found someone who truly knew how I felt.

I ended up chilling with him again a couple of nights ago. It was fun, if I could compare it to anything it would be how I would see spending time with an awesome older brother. We talked, rough housed, and over all enjoyed each other's company. I had that sense of feeling wanted, the feeling of having a true friend that knew my struggles and my darkest secret and did not change his view on me or judge me. He simply held me and told me not to feel ashamed about any of it.

If there is one thing that has been positive about me attending this college it is that God has placed some incredible people in my life. My friend I have talked about in this blog, my roommate, the lasses on my floor, and even some other lad friends that I chill with. He has given me incredible relationships with these people, and most of all, a second chance. I should not have lived that night, I did not want to live that night. There have been times where I have asked myself if I ever regretted saving myself, my answer...yes more than I would care to admit. Right now, I am glad that I did not, I am glad I am here and I am glad that I get to share this with whoever reads it. If there is one thing I would like for someone to get from this is this...do not give up, life is way to short to end it yourself.

As one of my favorite bands say in one of their songs "you can make it to the sunrise."
   "Sunrise" by Our Last Night. Truly is an amazing song. x