"I am ok" -the everyday lie

The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that I do not really want to blog about my day to day life and irritations; at least, not right now or not all the time. I have often heard that writing is in itself therapy and honestly, I still have areas of my life I need healing.
Often times we define abuse as physical, but really it goes much deeper than that.
It is hard to explain the cycles of abuse unless you have lived through them. So often when I was growing up, I heard how blessed I was to have two great parents involved in my life; to have a father who lead our family in a godly manner. Truth was, it was our mamma who really lea]d us, who really showed us what it meant to love God and follow after him. To say it simply, I came from a household with an abusive father. He never physically attacked us but that does not mean we don't have scars. The scars we carry are ones nobody else can see; we carry scars that are hidden behind a simple, "I am doing okay." Oh man! How many times I wished that someone would not have taken that at face value, to have not believed the lies behind every "ok" spoken. The verbal and emotional abuse we went through was easy enough to hide. I do not believe I even really spoke about it until I was away at college; when I was in a place where I felt like I could talk about it without having to listen to every "I never knew" or "I cannot imagine your father ever doing anything like that." In a way, being so far from everything familiar really helped me to open up and actually really talk about the abuse my family had been dealing with my whole life, not just a simple pray request for God to help our family work through problems. I don't think I ever labeled it for what it was until college; it was abuse plain and simple. Or maybe, not so simple. You see, emotional and verbal abuse over a lifetime really starts to take their toll. They say that a little girls first love is her daddy, yet by the age of four I had learned to dread his coming home. Over many years, these forms of abuse start to really take it's toll. For me, I started to believe the lies that my father told me. I began to believe that I was not good enough and not matter how hard I pushed myself, it was never enough for him. I graduated high school with high honors yet still I listened to him tell me that I was not good enough, that my grades were not good enough and if I did not improve, well then I was going nowhere in life. This lead me to almost an OCD like perfectionism in everything I tried to accomplish. I remember having breakdowns because I had gotten a 95 on an exam because I missed just one question. Even in college, it took a lot of energy, time, prayer and accountability from some amazing friends to start to break away from this obsessiveness. For me, that is still one of the scars that still shows up occasionally. It is hard to explain, but think of it as a habit. If you do something long enough, then eventually you do it without having to remember. For me, this near crazed obsession with being the best came from years of hearing the lie that I was not good enough, that I was going to be a failure. My solution to that was to be the best; I felt like if I had great grades and excelled in everything, that maybe, just maybe he would love me. So eventually over time, it became a way of life for me. I would throw myself completely into doing something and obsess over it in a completely unhealthy way. Over the years, I can see how this coping mechanism led to destructive behavior in my life. I started dealing with anorexia and depression because I was not good enough, not pretty enough, not perfect. Yet despite all this pain, I continued to hid behind my mask of being "ok". Being away at college, breaking from living in the cycle of abuse all really helped me to gain some perspective. You see, I always knew that things were not perfect in my family, that things were not supposed to be the way that they were, but even then, it took being half a country away from it for me to realize just how dysfunctional everything really was. A little girl is not supposed to dread the presence of her father, rather she should be able to seek him out for comfort and safety. A little girl should not have to wonder if her father loves her, but rather grow up knowing that he loves her so much that nobody will ever be good enough for her. A little girl should not dread getting married because she fears ending up with someone like her father but rather know and trust that her father would not let her go to the wrong man. A little girl should not grow up feeling like she is unbeautiful but rather be told every day by her father just how lovely she is. A little girl should not live in terror of mistakes but rather be able to feel guided by her father when she does make them. Cycles of abuse change a lot about us, who we are, how we identify ourselves, how we cope with hardship and so many other things. But cycles of abuse are just that, cycles. And all it takes is one generation to have the courage to be the ones who stand for change. It is never an easy change because it goes against everything you were raised with. But ultimately, we cannot change how we were raised, we can only change how we raise those given to us. Do not let yourself hide behind the lie of being "ok", facing the pain and the truth is how abusive cycles are broken.

Strength

What does it mean to be strong? I have often asked myself this question only to answer it with, "Being strong is hiding your hurts and putting on a brave face." Looking back, I can see how this viewpoint of strength has lead to a lot of the issues that I have faced in life. It fueled my struggle with depression as well as lead me to fill a void, to try to achieve too much through my recovering with anorexia. Growing up, I thought that in order to be strong, I had to hide my weaknesses. This caused me to live behind a mask, one that I was intent on keeping firmly in place. The problem with masks is that no matter how well you hid behind it or which brave face you put on, it is still all fake; nobody knows the real you because the real you is the hurt person hiding behind a strong facade. Honestly, to this day it is still hard to talk about the issues I have faced, my battle with depression and what is going to be a lifelong recovery from an eating disorder. Yet, I have learned that talking about it helps more that anything; when I talk about it, all facades are torn down; when I talk about it, I can no longer hide behind a mask. But mostly, when I talk about it, I learn even more about what it means to truly have strength. Over the past few years, my answer to what is strength has become, "Being strong means standing firm in the face of adversity and getting back up each time life knocks you off of your feet." I have faced a lot of adversity in life and have been knocked down more times than I care to remember, but honestly, I would rather face the adversity head on with a true strength and my head held high rather than pretending that everything is okay and hiding behind a facade.

So Called Life

I have always wanted to start a blog but have never really thought I had anything in life interesting enough to be worth writing. Then I remembered, I work with Jr. High students, have the amazing opportunity to be a youth leader, am beyond blessed to be a huge part of my little niece's life, have been blessed with a job and amazing family and friends. Life is crazy most days; it varies from working insane hours to dealing with the ups and downs of an almost three year old. It is amazing how one little person can so drastically change my life. I moved home to spend time with her and help out my older brother while he finished school and my life has never been better. I love getting to be her Tia. I love getting to read to her. I love getting to curl up on the couch and watch The Lion King for the millionth time. Needless to say, for all the good times, there are also hard times, bad days and little meltdowns, but I would not change a single day for 100 others. Because at the end of the day, the sweet hugs and kisses, the "I love yous" and "You are my bestest friend" are what make it all worth while.
Pretty much, this is one of the reasons I chose to name my blog "Don't Forget to Breathe." There is another reason too, but that is another story for another day.