Sometimes the hardest part of life is admitting you're scared as hell..

Growing up I used to think that there would be a point in my life where I would arrive. I would have a good job doing what I love.

I would have my own place (not realistic anymore).

I would have my group of friends that hung out all the time and encouraged each other.

I would have a good position in a church, doing what I was made to do.

I would have my music, and eventually have my own album recorded.

The minute I graduated from college, I knew that none of this would probably happen as I wanted it.

It took me two full months to get a job, at a donut shop.

I moved into a house with five other girls a month later.

I didn't really have any close friends once school picked back up again because they were all busy.

I took over as worship leader at a church, where I sometimes felt unappreciated, overworked and burnt out.

I did record a small cd, with somewhat terrible quality.

Then when it came time to start paying off my student loans, I knew my current situation wasn't going to cut it.

So I moved home.

Into my old room.

Into old habits.

Into old friendships.

Into my old self who let other people walk all over her.

If you've read my blog at any point before this, you probably read that I had an opportunity to work at a camp I grew up at. I was so excited and so nervous to go up there and be in a different place. But it was going to be worth it because I would be doing the things that I love.

I had tried emailing the director two times to ask when I should make the trip up there.

Today he finally emailed me back. He told me that they just got done laying off two people and he's still waiting to see how things will work out. Also, that he'll give me an update in the next two weeks. In the mean time, I've already given notice at my job. I already have all of July planned out with last minute trips, spending most of my money on traveling before I move up there. And now it's not a for sure thing anymore?

I read the email at work sinking further down into my chair as I filled with anxiety thinking about what the hell else I'm supposed to do if I don't get this job. The job that was a trial position in the first place. A job that I was going out on a limb to even take, because I decided I was going to have faith that everything was going to work out and I would get hired on permanently after the trial period was over.

There hasn't been a day in the past six months of being home that I haven't regretted it. Moving home.

I've loved pouring into good friendships since being home, and I don't regret that.

But honestly. I'm just scared as hell.

I'm scared that I moved home and now I'll be stuck.

I'm scared that I'll never be able to travel like I want to.

I'm scared that I'll never be able to move some place random and start my life the way I truly want to.

I'm just scared. Of everything. Of failure in life.

And I don't know what to do.

I want to be back in college with my friends. In close proximity where we could all talk to each other and encourage each other. I miss it so much. I miss my dear friends.

I wish that life wasn't so hard.

I wish being an adult wasn't so scary.

I have become the most anxiety ridden I have ever been since moving home.

I'm praying so hard that God will direct my path. I trust that he has great things for me, things that my ideas can't even measure up to. All I want is to be free. Free of expectations. Free of anxiety and hurt. Free of debt. Free of hatred towards myself for not being able to handle anything. I want to be free of all of these things, but mostly my fear.

I want to walk through life confident that I can do this. I have God right beside me and there is no way he is going to let me fall.

Snitch

I'll never forget this label. This label made me feel probably the most insecure out of all of them.

It made me think bad things about myself:

A bad friend.

A bad student.

A target for bullies.

A tattletale.

Someone who betrays.

Someone who has nothing better to do.

It's funny, because now I can sit here and understand that none of these are true.

I look back on all the times I spoke up, and every time I got the courage to say something, it was for someone else.

Every time I said something that could have labeled me a snitch, I was trying to protect someone. Whether it be their physical body, or their feelings.

I never told on someone just because.

I can remember all of the times I didn't say anything when It was just me, being picked on, made fun of, getting hurt.

But I always tried to make sure others were okay.

I never told out of spite or malice. I told out of love and concern.

I think that this is something that has bothered me for a very long time.

The fact that I felt like maybe I was a snitch.

And though I may just be trying to justify my actions by saying that I did it out of love, I believe it.

I don't believe that label applies to me. Not anymore.

I'm done carrying that around.

I'm also done allowing my past to dictate who I think I am, and instead I'm going to listen to the whisper.

The still soft whisper telling me that I am loved, and that I'm going to be okay.

That I don't have to let past labels, or labels in general, define me now.

It Was a Simpler Time

It's crazy how being an adult can put so much stress on a person. I can remember being in high school and I had homework to do and I had commitments, but I hung out on Myspace daily and always had my friends over.

These days, I go to work and then come home and watch tv and hangout on Tumblr all night. Sometimes I write, or play music, or read.

But mostly I'm on the computer.

And yet, I'm more stressed out than I was even two years ago.

How is it that with age comes more stress?

Today I took a trip down memory lane and went through all of my old pictures.

Boy was that a terrible idea.

For one thing I was skinnier back then.

I just kept passing over pictures of friends and I hanging out at parks, or camps, and at school.

Things were structured but they weren't.

We had summer. We had winter break.

We had all these things that we had to look forward to.

I'm sitting here looking forward to an email. An EMAIL.

I look forward to the weekend, and then on Saturday I already start dreading Monday.

I feel like I've had nothing to look forward to lately.

The only thing I look forward to is hanging out with people.

Which, I'm starting to think is more important. Really it's all there is.

I get so nostalgic looking at old pictures because they were taken with friends. With people that I love.

You grow up hanging out with everyone so often because it's convenient. They go to school with you, or live down the block.

Then you go to college and you have your roommates and quadmates and they're always there.

You are so surrounded with all of these people that you love and that love you and support you.

Then you become an adult. And it all somewhat falls apart.

Your friends disperse. To different cities. Different states.

Life becomes about working, and making a living and paying bills.

Soon you don't have time to try and make an effort to see people.

That was the biggest slap in the face.

Having all these people surround you, and you promise each other that you will always be friends and that you'll talk all the time. And then you don't.

Out of sight becomes out of mind.

I am so guilty of this.

Then when you don't talk to anyone, you feel alone, then you feel like you can't talk to them.

So you don't tell them anything, because you can't lie and say that you're fine anymore.

It's so hard to grow up. It's hard to have things change.

It's getting so difficult to look back on memories and not be jealous of my younger self.

It's now almost impossible for me to see myself then and not be furious at myself for taking those times for granted.

It was a simpler time.

Him

There wasn't really a time where I didn't notice him. We grew up together, but separate.

I admired him when we were kids. His desire to always seek adventure.

He'd end up hurt and try to act like he was fine, like I did.

I usually kept up with him too. Well. Not running. He was too fast.

Too skinny and aerodynamic. But in spirit I kept up with him.

I remember that he was always hyper, always wanted to do something.

I remember playing truth or dare, and wishing that someone would dare him to kiss me.

I remember being disappointed when he was dared to kiss me and he didn't.

I remember him being there when I started falling for the biggest devastation of my life.

I remember wishing that we were closer. That he could see the potential he saw in her, in me.

Sometimes there are people we just notice. People that no matter where you are in your life, if you see them you will stand up straight and hope that they give you the time of day even though you haven't ever really had a good conversation with them.

You wish you were funnier, or more interesting because then maybe he would seem interested when you talked to him.

I was there when it seemed like he was falling away. Wishing that there was something I could do or say to make it better.

It's good though, to see him now. He's doing well. I don't even have to talk to him to see it. Not that I don't want to.

I'm just scared. Like I've always been.

Scared that he won't notice me.

When I've always noticed him.

When I've noticed him grow up into a man. Finally taking charge and growing. Making progress to do and be better, for himself.

He's so calm now. Like me.

We both used to run around playing games and sports and chasing each other.

I remember when he fell and ripped his cargo pants, leaving his bloody knee exposed.

I remember when he got a concussion playing musical chairs. Musical Chairs.

Now, he seems so stoic almost. Calm and collected, like he's trying to keep in everything that's happened to him. Like me.

Maybe one day he'll look at me and see that he can trust me.

I haven't really talked to him in years. But there's still time.

Time to reach out.

Because when I think of the person I've always noticed, it's always been him.

People Matter

Right now I have two good friends who are on their way to visit me. One I have known for about four years and the other I've known of for four years but only became really close with this summer.

Last night I was talking to her about how I've basically isolated myself since being home, no old friends, no new ones. Just work and I've barely been invested in church.

She told me that when she first got married she felt very isolated too, until we started hanging out.

It's funny how you end up bonding with people right when you need someone the most.

I needed someone. And she made an effort to be my friend, and invite me over even if we just watched tv.

She needed someone. And I made the effort to get to know her better, and to be honest, she became my best friend.

I think that sometimes we don't think things mattered until someone tells you.

Recently I hung out with an old close friend, the first time since I've been home. I met her at her house where her father was too and he started questioning why I haven't been around.

Come to find out later, my friend had thought that I didn't want to be close with her because I hadn't reached out to hang out since being home.

I felt terrible.

Honestly.

This girl that was my favorite person when we were kids and still to this day, thought that I didn't like her.

She only told me this after I told her that I would consider her a close friend until the day I die.

I think we don't tell people they matter enough.

I've been home for almost four months, and I haven't attended my old church, and I haven't seen anyone from there.

They all know that I'm back.

After this realization with my friend, I thought about it.

These people, that always supported me and loved me and even helped me pay for school, probably think that I want nothing to do with them.

When really all I needed was time, and they pushed, and I withdrew. Until I had fully isolated myself into a workout, work, tv show, sleep stupor.

That's when I made my decision to go back, and to look the people that love me in the eye and tell them how much they actually do matter to me, despite my actions.

I've lived my life and had many different types of friendships.

Toxic friendships. Loving friendships. Shallow friendships. Healthy friendships. You name it.

But the ones that I always remember are the ones that mattered.

The ones that were natural, not forced.

The ones that spiraled into every summer day running around looking for adventure.

The ones that brought equal growth. Where you challenge each other and even have to be brutally honest but it works, and you both thrive.

The ones that teach you life lessons, which may hurt, and it may end, but it was a lesson nonetheless.

People have always told me things about myself; that i'm mysterious, that I'm "cool, calm, and collected," that I'm stoic.

Whatever the heck that means.

But I think the fact that I'm not very vocal about certain things makes it hard for people to understand.

I thrive on relationships. I love my friends.

But I NEED to tell them. I need to let them know how much I truly cherish their presence in my life, and their existence altogether.

I need to smile more to reassure that I'm having a good time.

I need to let them know they matter.

We need to let the people in our lives know they matter.

Lets say it until we sound like a broken record, and then keep going.

"I love you."

"I'm thankful for you in my life."

"You matter to me."

"Thank you for being my friend when I desperately needed one."

It's important. People are important. Tell them.

There Is No End

I've always known that I'm terrible at communication. At least when said communication, is me communicating when things are not okay.

Equalling me confronting someone; a friend, an employee, a parent, etc.

I'm terrible at it because it usually needs to happen after a certain amount of time has passed and the same thing has continued to happen, continued to hurt.

If you know me at all you know that I will go as long as humanly possible taking hits, being teased, being hurt, being upset, well, basically letting people walk all over me, before I say anything.

It sucks because it's not just one person, it's multiple people, it's people that aren't even in my life anymore, it's people that are still very much in my life if not the closest people to me.

It's people that despite our friendship being as long as it is, don't actually know me as well as they should.

They don't understand how truly sensitive I am, or what I've actually been through. Because I haven't trusted enough people to speak it.

I've been cut very deep by the people closest to me and I think it makes it hard to let people in because I don't want them to get that close to end up hurting me. Especially when I see similar tendencies in them as I do in the person that did the initial hurting.

And despite all of the pain someone has caused me, intentional or not, it's still the hardest thing for me to bring it up and tell them what they have done. Like I don't want them to get upset that I'm bringing up what they did to hurt me. Or I don't want them to get defensive and then I stop presenting my side and start defending them instead so they can leave the conversation feeling better than I do.

It's not like I want to do it to hurt them either, I'm doing it so that they will understand and try not to do those things, or say those things. Then by the time I've gotten the courage to say something, I wonder, is it just me? Am I just too sensitive?

It doesn't matter.

People need to know when they are hurting you, and if they are good people, they will try to stop.

I know I'm mainly just saying all this for myself, because I need to be stronger that this.

I need to be stronger than I am.

I am weak. I am scared, and I am untrusting.

I need to be stronger and stand up for myself. If I don't like the way that I am being talked down to, I need to ask politely if they can stop treating me like I'm inferior, or talking to me like I'm stupid.

I am weak. So I can't.

I need to be courageous and believe that my life matters, my opinions matter, my feelings matter, and my need for respect matters.

I am not courageous.

I need to be trusting in my friends. I need to trust my parents. I need to trust coworkers. I need to trust people and believe that they care enough about me to let me speak my mind. I need to trust that one friendship will not fall to pieces if I open up and say that I don't like the way they've been treating me. That it won't fall apart if I tell them what's really happened to me.

I need to trust that people will still love me, despite my wounds, despite my fears, despite my darkness, and despite my past. Even now I need to trust that people I love will read this and not get upset, but understand that there are things I can't say.

But I don't trust.

And there is no end.

Sometimes Things Happen. And They Hurt.

Sometimes things happen. Sometimes you have a totally fine day and then you get off work and all the sudden something happens that hurts you down to your core and you have no way of making it any better.

Sometimes people aren't receptive of apologies.

Sometimes people target you when really other things are going on in their lives.

Sometimes things hurt. And they can't be stopped.

How is it that I'm still cautious?

A few years back I was hurt pretty badly by a couple of my best friends. 

I was lied to, and my heart got broken.

I don't think they understood the deepness of the wounds or the severity. 

I forgave blindly because I knew it was what I was "supposed" to do. 

That and I'm sure I didn't want to cut them out of my life, I love them. 

However, since then I have been overly cautious. 

I don't trust as easily. And I definitely don't put myself out there like I once did. 

If I ever have a crush on someone and I find out they like one of my friends, I back off and let it go.

If I like someone and someone else shows interest in them, even if I barely know them, I'll back off and let them go for it.

You see, I'm not willing to be hurt again. I don't take many risks, I can't go for it. 

I'm hesitant, and stuck and yet still incredibly hopeful that something will happen even though I haven't given any indication that I want it to.

I'm too cautious. 

No risk no reward right? 

Isn't that what we're taught? 

Here I am scared to death that I'll be broken again. 

When I forgave the last time, I didn't give it enough time. I jumped right back into the friendship, still very wounded, and holding back the bitterness in my heart that was trying to escape in any situation. 

I wasn't okay with it. 

I wasn't okay with feeling betrayed. 

What if I put myself out there like that all the time? 

Wouldn't I be completely in pieces all of the time? 

Even now, I find myself holding back from even having a crush on someone because they remind me of the one person that I had to get over. The one person who was an accomplice in the breaking of my high school heart. 

How is it that I'm still cautious? 

Can my heart ever be completely healed from that? 

Can I ever take the risk again? 

Time Spent

I realized on Thursday that I have spent a significant amount of time in hospitals. 

When I was a kid it was mainly me getting hurt and having to sit in the waiting room for hours. This could include anywhere from a sprained ankle and smashing my hand in the car door to almost cutting off my thumb with a Spaghetti O's can lid. 

A lot of hospital trips were for my mom and all her various health issues, a lot of surgeries and or emergency room trips in the middle of the night. 

When I got to high school it would be a mixture of going to the hospital to see people such as my youth pastor when she had a surgery, or gave birth, or when I had to sit next to her while her three year old sun got a spinal tap and she heard him screaming all the way from his room. 

Even now in college I've been to hospitals for appointments, or scares with friends. 

I don't know what it is, but I always seem to be there. I want to be there. 

Waiting for hours on end sucks, but knowing that you are there supporting the people you love is what makes it worth it. 

I couldn't tell you how many times I've been to the hospital with people who told me I didn't need to be there, or they apologize, or say that they don't want to be a burden. 

It's never been a burden. Not for me. I think deep down I just love them, so I want to be there, to know that they are safe, or at least have them feel safer because they have someone there for them. 

I can't think of the last time I went to the hospital for my own reasons. 

But I hope that when I end up having to go, that there will be people there with me, to make me feel safe, and not cold and alone in a place where I don't know or trust anyone. I want someone who will look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not a burden and they aren't leaving. Someone who would even come with me and sit in the waiting room with me when a friend is getting checked out and I'm alone. It's nice to have those friends. It's nice to have people there for you. So that's why I always try to be.