You know what they say.. and I'm pretty cliche.

Time really is on my side. My whole life I've been waiting for things; I wait for Christmas because it's my favorite time of year. I wait for spring because I get tired of winter. I wait out panic attacks and depression, riding out the storm because I know that it will always pass. I wait for life on this earth to end, and I wait for the next when everything that's worth waiting for will finally be here. Sometimes I just have to remind myself what really is important. Love is important, because it's the only thing that lasts. God and people will be forever, but earthly problems will not. Career problems, school problems, sickness, and heartbreak will go away. The things I idolize will burn and the only things that are truly worth having will be left. I have to remind myself that the good and the bad in this life are temporary. I have to remind myself that this, too, shall pass.

Moving On. (Getting all this off my chest)

Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt; the text that says “Who is this?” takes me by surprise and I don’t know what to think.

I guess it’s time to let go. It took me two years to break though and get close to him, not knowing that he was trying to do the same with me all along. Two long years, two untrusting people trying to win each other over, yet not really knowing that person they thought they wanted so much.  We became best friends; he’d talk me through my late-night panic attacks, I’d listen to him vent about his parents. We supported each other. We talked about everything that came into our minds and never got bored with each other.
The spring semester of my senior year came around, and with it came a fear of taking my time for granted. I wanted to appreciate everything in my life as I knew it, all the best things I would miss. He was at the top of the list and I resolved that I would never leave him behind, no matter what or who else would lay forgotten in my past. When I realized how much I cared and needed him, I finally stopped telling myself I didn’t want him as more than a best friend. I knew him so well, trusted him so much, and desperately hoped he felt the same. But in some ways he was still a mystery.
I’ve never been one to pursue a relationship with anyone, but I tried to subtly let him know how I felt. I wanted him to know even if he didn’t think of me the same way. I wanted to give it a try, because I knew that I would rather risk losing his friendship than remain just friends.
Our conversations took on new warmth, full of inside jokes and double entendres. He told me what “double entendre” means. He would say things that I didn’t know how to take because I knew how much I wanted him to mean them as more. I wanted it so badly that I was overly cautious. I didn’t let myself read into his words. Everything he said made my heart race.
One night in April, he started to tell me a story. It began with his childhood, the bad experiences of his early schooling. He told me about the steps that led his family to join my co-op, even though they lived two hours away from where we met. He told me about becoming friends with my cousin and best friend who were on his basketball team. He told me about his impression seeing me for the first time, the time after that, and the time after that. He told me that he knew, from the time we got to know each other as friends, that he intended to make us more if he could.
We were so happy. I couldn’t sleep that night. The way I felt about him was unlike anything I had felt in years.
The next month, I graduated from high school. I went to Kentucky to meet an online friend in person for the first time. I got my nose pierced. I missed him. I got back home and he took me on a date. I was nervous. We talked the way we always did, joked around, and made fun of the restaurant’s radio station. I couldn’t wait to see him again. June went by and we became open books to one another rather than mysteries. He said he fell in love with me, and I was afraid because I was beginning to realize he would get hurt.
I went to MAP in July. I spent a week in Kentucky, a week in Little rock, and two weeks in Louisiana. His mom found out about us and grounded him for three weeks. I had panic attacks because I was so dependent on him. It had probably been a year since I had gone even one week without talking to him. His mom talked to me like I was a child and asked me more questions than I would have been willing to put up with for anyone but him. Even so, being so far away and going so long without him made me want to distract myself. I was around other people and got other attention. My feelings started to fade.
We talked for one more week after he was grounded, then I realized it was time to let him know. I had thought everything would be the same after that, but I didn’t want them to be. I didn’t want to belong to him. I didn’t want to be tied down, to have a boyfriend two hours away when I went to college. Commitment was something I knew I couldn’t handle, even though I still felt strongly for him. He cried on the phone and asked if we could ever be more than friends again. I told him I couldn’t make any promises and not to plan on it. If it was supposed to happen later, it would, but I couldn’t commit.
During my first three weeks of college, I called him almost every day, telling him everything. I talked to him more than I talked to my family. He was still my best friend.
Somewhere along the line, we stopped talking and I didn’t notice. I somehow forgot he existed for a while. I visited home and spent time with a guy who I had liked three years before and began to like again. Thanksgiving break came around and I sent him a text to wish him a happy Thanksgiving and got no response. Suddenly I woke up to the fact that we hadn’t talked in weeks and that I didn’t even care. I didn’t miss him, I didn’t want him, and I felt guilty for that because I thought we had cared so much about each other.
I still feel guilty. Last night I sent him another text, and the response I got was “Who is this?” He has removed me from his life. My cousin knows more about his decisions than I do and I never thought we would be where we are. I can’t explain the remorse I feel because I know I hurt him. I know him too well; I know how he felt about me. He let me in after I took two years to earn his trust, only to be crushed because I apparently can’t be trusted. I meant everything I ever said to him. I believed every word. I never intended to leave him behind, and I apologized for that. I’ve done what I can do, and trying to mend our friendship would only cause more pain. My amends will be to let him go. I hope he can forgive me.
It’s time to let him go.

Perspective

"It's funny how things don't work out." "It's funny how they do."- Sweet Home Alabama

I love being around positive people. Looking on the negative side of things is a trait that runs in my family, so optimism doesn't come naturally for me. Perspective is so important in the way we live our lives, and the difference it can make is incredible. When I do look on the bright side- I mean when I'm really, whole-heartedly there- it's so very rewarding. The rewarding part is a little ironic, though, because I can't control my negative thinking any more than an addict can control their addiction. Getting rid of negativity isn't something I do on my own. It's been part of who I am for most of my life and it's hard to let go, but when I do, God takes care of it and replaces it with optimism. He plants a gratitude that grows to crowd out the sense of entitlement that I'm all too prone to hold onto.

"Letting go of something painful can be as difficult as letting go of something pleasant. But let's face it - holding on is a lot of work. When we really think about what we're holding onto, the effort just isn't worthwhile. It's time to let go of our character defects and ask God to remove them."
Basic Text pg. 34

Back to Normal.

"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong. West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home, country roads...The radio reminds me of my home far away, and driving down the road I get the feeling that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday."-John Denver
Those are the words I would hear on the radio as my dad and I drove through the hills of Arkansas. I'd get a little nervous as the truck pointed upwards to set up our surveying equipment on the top of a mountain with a breathtaking view. We would return to that job site several times because of the rough territory and enormity of the piece of land. It was a two-hour drive away from home, so we would leave early in the morning, work all day, and pack up for home when it started getting dark. Walking for miles all over wooded mountains in the summertime isn't my fondest memory, but it was good for me. It was hot, exhausting, and by the end of each day I was worn out and dirty, but it was rewarding. Daddy and I have always made a good team, and today I remembered just how well we work together. I'm finally home for Thanksgiving week and get to do all the things that feel normal again, like getting a load of firewood in the truck. We had it loaded, unloaded, and the truck cleaned out in no time, listening to our music when it was convenient. Sometimes I really do wonder what life would be like if I dropped out of school to survey for the rest of my life, but I have dreams to keep in mind and they won't be given up so easily. I know what I want to do and I fully intend to follow through, even though I might miss what I have to leave behind. It will be worth it, but I'm thankful I get to spend this week back home. After almost a full semester at school, I'm thankful that it doesn't feel strange to be back like my friends are saying it is for them. I'm thankful that I get to savor my normal for a little while longer.

To be a friend.

It will change you. It’s that moment when you realize you care. When they look you in the eye and you want nothing but to wrap them up and take their pain away. When you don’t understand what happened to make you love so much, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. It’s that moment when you forget yourself in listening to them because there’s no one else who will and only a few others that they trust. It’s such an honor to be trusted. It’s such an honor to love, but such a difficult thing when they’re afraid to let you and you can’t begin to understand the depth of their pain. You don’t cry for your own sadness, but you fight back tears for theirs. Selfishness is broken in that moment, if only for a moment. Even though you don’t understand any of this, it’s the best thing that could happen.
This doesn’t just happen. The scars from your own past pain begin to ache, the change in your heart causing pressure like a change in the weather. They remind you why it’s been so long since you empathized with any other pain. You’ve spent so much time protecting yourself and not letting anyone in, but suddenly you realize something amazing. You would rather feel all of their pain with them just to understand than to shut them out.
And they’re so afraid, they shut you out.

We hate each other so much.

Ruben is mean. He has a left eyebrow. He writes me poetry but we've only hung out twice. It's whatever. :)

"Dearest Claire,

The time has come for me to say

A little short something on this day

It might be sweet; it might be bad

But never ever never sad

I want your blood on the walls

On the ceiling, through the halls

Don’t think me crazy, okay, I am

You won’t survive. Nope.

From my loving black heart,

Ruben"

With friends like these...

“I think I caught a glimpse of a life without friends; bitter, empty, hollow, dark, and lonely…Oh, we need each other through all the highs and lows, and no one’s meant to be alone.”- Sanctus Real

Independence has always been a strong trait of mine, or so I thought until I got to college. However, even though I’m only 1 hour and 40 minutes away from my family, I’m learning just how much I need other people close to me. I truly can’t make it on my own, and I’m finding that’s okay.
Once upon a time, I was twelve years old. That summer I got involved in a missions training program called the Missionaries for America Program, not knowing that it would be what got me through my difficult early teenage years. I existed from MAP event to MAP event. I think the reason I’ve always loved it so much is because there’s a sense of welcome and belonging I get when I’m with those people.  There’s an amazing power in community, in bonds between souls, and it’s a healing experience to worship God with people who love you. I was truly happy living with my closest friends for 3 weeks in the summer, singing hymns in our free time and opening up to each other in ways I had never known before. Going home was something I dreaded.
I remember going home to my dysfunctional family time after time, feeling an overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness. It nearly always developed into a stage of depression during which my mother would criticize me for what she called my bad attitude, but I never questioned whether it was worth it. It was more than worth it every time, if only to get away for a while.
You know, it’s amazing how things change. Ever since my oldest sister started college when I was 8 years old, I’ve looked forward to going away to college because I hated life at home. For a while, I wanted to go to a private university in California, and even that didn’t seem far enough away from Arkansas and my parents. These days, though, I can’t imagine a place I’d rather be than home. I love my parents as much as I love anyone, and I’m thankful that we’ve healed together. I’m glad we learned to get along before I left home, before it was too late to make good memories of living with them, before I finished growing up in their home. My last year of high school was so different from the rest, and I can’t express how much those memories mean to me. Looking back on even my most recent bout with depression isn’t entirely unpleasant. I’m thankful for it, because for the first time I can remember, my parents responded to it with concern and love rather than disapproval and criticism. They lit the way to walk me out of my dark valley and I love them for that.
College has not been an easy transition after such a recent realization of love for my home, but I’m learning to appreciate things here, too. Instead of pining for home, for my family and books and warm fireplace, I’ve been trying to love the people around me, and they make it pretty easy. It isn’t difficult to be happy while sitting in a coffee shop, blogging, and listening to music with two of my closest friends. Tonight has been a respite from the familiar feeling of emptiness I’ve been fighting these past few weeks, but I know I’m not alone no matter where I go. I have friends here who love me, who support me in whatever I do because they care enough to know who I am. It isn’t every day you find friends like mine, and I’m so thankful I get to spend the next 4 years with them. 

I Am Homesick.

I have three tests this week, and instead of studying like a responsible college student, right now I’m listening to Anberlin’s new album and allowing myself to feel more than I have in a while. Something about their music touches me because I can relate to every aspect of it, and really, it makes me feel understood. The transition to college has been much more difficult than I expected, even though everyone was telling me how different it would be. I knew it would be different, but I didn’t expect to be homesick. I didn’t expect to struggle with my classes. I didn’t expect to have to fight for time to do basic things I’ve always enjoyed. I haven’t read an entertaining book in months. I always have music playing, but I never really listen anymore. It’s just there in the background helping to calm my nerves along with the coffee I’ve become so dependent upon. My thoughts are constantly flying so quickly that I can’t write them by hand anymore. College is overwhelming after the easy life I’ve always had…and I never realized just how easy it was. I’m thankful that God led me to savor my last semester of high school and my last summer before college. I’m thankful that He gives me things to appreciate in life, like music and coffee and my amazing friends. I’m thankful that grades AREN’T the most important thing in life, even when I feel overwhelmed at the thought of messing them up. I’m thankful that I live less than two hours away from my home. I’m thankful for the cute, funny little squirrels on campus. I’m thankful for my cousin/RA/best friend, because I wouldn’t have made it this far so easily without her. I’m thankful for teachers who are willing to pray with me, to do anything necessary for me to learn what I need to learn, even when I don’t take advantage of that.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I was born for a simple, peaceful life. I’ve always known this, but half of one semester has reinforced just how deeply the country runs in my veins. I need to walk alone in bush-hogged pastures and hike through the woods with my dad. I need to watch Touched by an Angel with my mom while wrapped in my favorite quilt. I need to knit dish rags and scarves with my sisters while listening to Anberlin or Christmas music. I need to read and sing with my niece, to hold my nephew and watch them grow. I need either to go home or to somehow find the strength for eight years of academics so that I can finally begin my career. Even though I know I would love this job, I still somehow doubt it can be worth it.