Your Words Mean Nothing To Us

The thing about Facebook is that you cannot escape all the people posting things in your newsfeed, and reposting them. I've seen the same video pop into my newsfeed 9 times in one day. The same kind of status pop up 3 times in a row. One on top of each other.

And I have a wide variety of friends, half of whom would post an article to say, "LOOK! This is so GREAT!" while the other half was posting it saying, "I'm so DISGUSTED!" It can be very amusing.

However, today, there popped up into my newsfeed one article that has inspired quite a few debates, and I am here to post my personal concerns and opinions and ideas about it all.

It all started on this blog of some young, Christian guy, who was writing in the form of a letter to his future, unknown wife. Read here.

I found so many issues with this letter, including:

• Girls should not be just sitting, waiting around for a Prince Charming to show up...our lives shouldn't revolve around being found by and marrying some guy!...
• I want to see the day a good-looking guy who actually acts upon his words of "it doesn't matter what you look like, you're already beautiful because God made you" by not ignoring and walking past the over-weight or acne-prone girls. 
• Girls' bodies are *not* goodies. We are not objects to be compared to a treasured or favorite car. I dress the way I dress not because I'm dressing for my future husband, but for myself. Because I am a Christian young woman I serve God and as a result of that, I respect myself and I honor Him. I dress how I feel comfortable. Simple as that. My body is my own. It is not some unknown man's. If a man struggles with how I dress, it is on his shoulders to take care of his own feelings and thoughts. I am not placed on earth to meet each individual man's struggles. 

The young man ends his letter with the following, 

"I understand I might have written this a little late, but I don’t care who you were yesterday, I care who you are today and who you will be tomorrow.  Make a change if you need to.  Let us grow together.  It is not too late.  It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or how many of these items you have missed, it just matters what you are going to do now!  You are beautifully and wonderfully made by the hands of a perfect Creator, live like it!"

My question is this: if it doesn't matter, then why also say,  "I’ll say that again, your goodies are always going to be good.  But, if everyone and my mom has a look at everything you’re showing off, I’m not feeling like as much of a lucky ducky.  So please, for me, keep your goodies packaged away."

Obviously, it does matter to him.

All of this aside. Yes, yes, I mean that: all of this aside...I want to get to the main point of my post.

Guys telling us we're beautiful. It's all well and good to tell us we're beautiful and that we're made in God's image. But I'm going to tell you right now. We're not going to believe you.

The thing about beauty and telling a girl she's beautiful and a letter like this is that guys are trying to convince us we're beautiful. If you think about the One Direction song, "What Makes You Beautiful" ...movie messages, book messages...all of which there are guys singing, saying, telling us girls that we're beautiful. Guys are trying to convince us that we're beautiful and that we don't need makeup and that who we are is enough. But. We still don't believe you. 

It's not exactly your fault, guys, though I will put a tiny bit of the blame on you. Guys, you tell us we're beautiful the way we are, to not cover up in makeup, to not care about how we dress...but the thing is, there is the sting when we try to believe your words and the guys still keep walking past us. So, forgive us if we don't believe your empty words.

What I believe is the most damaging message of all in this young man's blogpost and the dozens upon dozens...hundreds, even!...of blogposts and articles that spout the exact same thing, is this: men are telling us how to be beautiful. They are telling us how to live, how to BE women that will most attract Christian, godly men. But: our worth does not come from men. No matter what men tell us, we will never be content with it. It is one thing to be told we're beautiful and another to believe it. When a guy tells us we're beautiful, it's sweet and wonderful in the moment. But that's all it is: a moment.

Girls: it is wonderful when guys tell us we're beautiful. I know that special tingly, warm feeling we get when we receive compliments. But unless we truly believe it about ourselves, we will never be content. We will always be seeking for that contentment and fighting against the emptiness of feeling inadequate and not pretty enough. It's about self-worth and self-esteem. This idea of being a princess stuck in a tower, waiting, bases our self-worth and our happiness on someone else...on a guy. But here's the catch: guys are just as human as we are. And they cannot make us happy every minute of every day. A mere guy cannot make us worthy. I've been learning exactly how much I base my self-esteem on how others esteem me. But the fact remains, that once the compliments are gone, the briefest of moments where the spotlight is on me, then I feel just as empty as I did before. This is because I don't believe in myself and I do not think of myself as worthy unless others notice me. I am learning that to embrace who I really am, to accept how I look, I have to build my self-respect. Instead of being a door-mat allowing people to walk all over me, I am learning that I am worthy of happiness and respect from others without asking for it from them, without catering toward them. Author Nathaniel Branden of Six Pillars of Self-Esteem writes, "It is the conviction that our life and well-being are worthwhile and deserving of the respect of others; and that our happiness and personal fulfillment are important enough to work for." 

I am not going to tell you how to acquire self-esteem. I can't address the issues in your lives, girls. I can only look into my own life and see where I allow a low self-esteem to drag me down. I am learning to embrace the fact that I have a tiny yet tall body which makes it difficult to dress. I am learning to love the fact that my hair is curly and has a mind of its own. I am learning that it's okay to have days where I don't like my curly hair and to tame it's wildness by straightening it to a silky smoothness. I like my hair both ways. Not because some guy told me it was pretty, not because my friends told me that I look better with my hair curly. I like it both ways because of how both ways make me feel. I wear skinny jeans that show off my butt to its best advantage, not because I want to attract guys' attention but simply because I like how it looks, how it makes me feel. I wear makeup and I love it. I like the smoother appearance of my face when I cover up blemishes. I like the way my eyes are emphasized when I throw on the tiniest bit of liner and mascara. This isn't me not accepting how I was made...it is me making the most of how I was made and feeling beautiful in who I am. I am not changing my body...I am enhancing it.  It makes me confident and happy with my body, with how I was made. It is me accepting my body shape without having anyone tell me I look good.

Self-esteem, girls, it's important. More important than sitting around, waiting for guys to come along and finally tell us we're beautiful in their eyes after having one or two or a hundred guys just walk right past us.
Every guy may not think I'm beautiful, but I am learning to be happy with who I am, and how I look because I am building my self-esteem.


Guys, I am not here to tell you to stop telling us beautiful. But I am. Confusing? Let me explain. Do, do tell us we're beautiful. But do not tell us HOW to be beautiful. Do not come to me and say, "You are beautiful as you are, with the body God gave you, you don't need to wear makeup" then proceed to swagger right past me to flirt with the prettier girls. Guys, your words mean nothing to me. It is like Eliza Doolittle of My Fair Lady says, "Show Me". Your words are empty without actions. Guys, don't tell me I'm beautiful then proceed further into your blogpost by telling me how I need to be, what I need to do, and who I should be in order to be worthy of your love and attention. I am worthy without your opinion, attention, or words.

Guys, if you want me to believe you when you say I'm beautiful, show me by respecting me, including every life decision I make, including the way I act, speak, and dress. Give me the respect I deserve as a person, by not comparing me to a car, by not treating my body as an object and labeling it as goodies. Guys, if you want me to believe you when you say I'm beautiful, don't talk down to me, don't stuff me into a box and tell me to wait for you. I am a person, not your object. I am worthy to go out into this world and do something and not make you the center of my universe. Guys, if you want me to fall for you, don't tell me that the sole purpose of my life is you. Remember this, guys, the next time you're tempted to write a letter to your future wife: your words mean nothing to us.

Photography Journey: Part 1

2008

I remember the day I got into photography...I was 18, bored, and it was a rainy day. I picked up my mom's little Canon point&shoot camera and walked around the house with it. I just looked for anything "interesting" (I seriously question my idea of interesting!) and shot anything and everything.
I shot a photo of one of the little girls holding...a bouncy ball. Yeah. A pink and white stripedy bouncy ball. It was as lame as it sounds. My composition was all about dead-centering everything and never knowing when to zoom in or NOT to zoom in!, lighting was provided by on-camera flash (aaaah the red eye days!), and I had no idea what the hell exposure, white balance, ISO, and all that "mumbo-jumbo" meant! Auto was my tool. Heaven forbid!  But I loved it. So much that I bought my beloved Booth, a Canon Rebel, who will be turning 6 in April.

2008: Raindrops didn't need to be in focus: artsy!

As before, I shot on auto, no idea what I was doing, but I was happy doing it. Raindrops on leaves was an especial favorite. Doesn't matter if they were in focus or not...blurry just meant artsy, right? (Hahahahahahahaha).

I decided I wanted to take photography lessons, because I finally discovered that my Canon Rebel did not only have an Auto function but, believe it or not!, it also had a manual function where some interesting words like exposure and lighting and f-stop were a true photographer's second language. It was like being in a club and I wanted to be in that club. I looked into taking private lessons from a photographer, even emailing him about what he charged and how such a lesson would occur. The parents vetoed my taking lessons alone with a guy, so I turned to the internet. I managed to find a photography course and paid $90 for the class. 

2009: Rule of Thirds? I really wasn't as clever as I thought.

I think I completed...3? lessons worth before I discovered how rubbish it all was. So I went back to just snapping photos as I liked em. I even discovered the "non-flash" function and how it sometimes worked better than flash! Oh and placing the subject of my photo in other "sections" of the photo instead of dead-center? I thought I was so clever and unique to compose differently.

As I grew older, I realized that reality was drawing nearer and the fact that I would have to eventually support myself was finally dawning. Marriage wasn't happening any time soon...so what better solution than to start my own photography business??

2010: I realized I loved photography!

My first real photography "gig" was my older brother's engagement photos. With my mom as a "partner", I shot photos of my brother and his fiancee in the lovely town of Amherst. I shot and shot, taking hundreds of photos (did I mention, I just snapped and snapped and snapped without stopping? It seemed much more professional to me if you could hear the shutter repeatedly clicking!), and the more I clicked, the more excited I became. I LOVED shooting. I loved the interaction, the posing, the capturing of so many pretty photos. This shoot was the first time I realized that photography was definitely what I wanted to pursue in my life. It was the first time I felt passion, the first time I loved doing something.

After that, I tried to fill my days with photo shoots, a mixture of senior portraits and engagement photos amongst my friends and family. I told everyone I was going to start my own business. I was warned that in order to succeed, I should probably go to school, but laughed and shook my naive little head. Why go to school when I could just start a business on my own? Why spend all that money and leave my comfort zone to just take some stupid classes? I thought I knew everything at 20. 

2010: I thought I knew everything.

Kindness

It is so easy to get captured in my own head and to believe that my pain is all that matters. My tears, my fears, my hurts...what you feel is what grabs your attention. In those moments of feeling lost and alone it is easy to believe that there is no pain greater than your own.

As an INFJ, it is very easy for me to see others' pain and to empathize, but even I sometimes put my pain first. Having been raised with the mindset that humbling means putting others first, I struggled to ever care for myself. Then, one day, I accepted that it was okay, it was even good to put myself first.

Your own pain and tears and fears are real. They matter. How I feel matters. Sometimes, I have to put myself first because not to do so would mean breaking down, falling to pieces, not functioning. Our bodies and our minds, our physical and spiritual beings need the attention and time to recover. I say this because I do not want you to feel that I am promoting NEVER putting yourself first. Because I'm not.

However. What I've discovered in this journey of self-healing and self-discovery and allowing myself to grow and mend, is that it is so easy to put yourself first all the time. To avoid things that cause you discomfort, even things that could help others.

I have realized that it is very easy to be kind only to yourself and redirect the annoyance and the grievances you once would push on yourself on to others.

Learning to love yourself, being kind, self-healing...it's not about pointing the hatred and the annoyance and the drive of perfectionism onto others. It's about disposing of these feelings altogether so that you are not filling your life with them or someone else's life.

It is easy to get into the habit of thinking, "I've had greater pain than she has and if I can pick myself back up, then she can too!" When you direct kindness inward, don't forget to direct it outward too. Clean out the hate, the vile feelings, but don't just push them out into the world. Throw them away.

It is hard to choose to be kind sometimes: to yourself and to others. What I don't always realize is that kindness is a choice. I don't want to lose the empathy I have as an INFJ, I don't want to lose my characteristic of always rooting and fighting for the underdog, I don't want to lose my sensitivity to others' pain and my urge to help those in need, no matter how great or small their need is. I also do not want to lose the art of being kind to myself, stop my practice of learning to forgive or accept myself. It is a hard balance to achieve. I want to blow out all my anger and self-hatred into a place where it cannot hurt, instead of redirecting it from myself to others.

I want to choose to be kind. Sometimes this means putting others before myself...sometimes all it means is being patient, even when I feel like people should suck it up. Sometimes, it means sucking it up myself. Whatever I do, wherever I go, whomever I become...above all, I want to be kind, the kind of kindness that God instilled in my personality. It's a choice, kindness is...so 2014, let's be kind: both to myself and everyone.

I'm Not a Sad Story

I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll become somebody's Mom or Dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening...I can see it. This one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. 

- The Perks of Being a Wallflower 

I've had moments in my life where I feel sorry for myself, feeling lost and alone and wondering why I'm always a victim. Is it because I choose to be a victim? Is it because I was a victim and it's hard to shake that mentality off?

I've gone through a lot in my life. I'm not special or especially unique in that I'm alone in pain. I have baggage like everyone else, prying my fingers one by one off the handles.

I flip through the pages of my journals from over the years. The words: lost, alone, scared, exhausted, worthless, fear...sad stand out from the pages. If I get too close to the pages, all I can see is the struggles and I can fool myself into thinking that my life is a sad story.

If I step back from the pages, remove my magnifying glass perception and see the journals stacked, one on top of each other as tall as a tower, and examine them as a whole, I see a live story.

My story isn't sad. It holds sad moments, a lot of sad moments, but that's a page or two or a hundred in a complete story. If I step forward again, examining the separate pages of my journals, this time the word: full, joy, peace, forgiveness, love, brave, strength...happy also grace the pages.

I've stood in front of these books, filled with moments and I wonder at them. These moments are happening, they are live and real. When I touch these journals, I touch moments...the feeling of emotions flowing through me, the tears and the laughter, and I stand in wonder of my story.

This one moment when you realize you're not a sad story. You are alive. 

365

Day 298:
Your worries gone in the length of an episode

Day 299:
Love this quote

Day 300:
Photographer's world

Day 301:
Re-read before seeing the movie!

Day 302:
Moment at school

Day 303:
Halloween candy from co-worker!

Day 304:
Katniss for a day!

Day 305:
My friend Scarlett sends the best letters. :) 

Day 306:
Path

Day 307:
Blurred trees

Day 308:
"Waddah" as one of my Lego kiddos calls it

Day 309:
Selfie

Day 310:
Once a year...

Day 311:
Love this line

Day 312:
Laughed out loud

Day 313:
Love this quote so incredibly much! Great book!

Day 314:
Oh the class of royalty...

Day 315:
Journaling

Day 316:
Study essentials 

Day 317:
Psych exam? Ack! Must study!

Day 318:
I drink 3-4 cups a day!

Day 319:
Just, ya know, snugglin. 

Day 320:
Yeah, we was tiiiiiiiired

Day 321:
Peace out

Day 322:
Oh, buggah, I've boxed myself in!

On and On

New England is famous for its autumns. Clear, blue skies...the brilliant foliage...cinnamon, pies, pumpkin spice lattes, and...apple picking. In spite of school and the stress of homework, I treasure autumn and it ranks high up there as one of my favorite seasons.

Summer is beautiful and wonderful in all of its goldenness, but there's something equally magical about fall. I look around me and see the difference in color of the sunshine, the way the dark comes earlier, the last vibrancy of colors clinging on before winter comes, and I smell the difference in the air.

I was driving toward my sister's place yesterday, Mat Kearney's "On and On" playing as I rolled down my windows. The breeze was cool, the sun still on green leaves, looking like summer, but the taste of fall in the air.

It's hard to imagine goodness, happiness, love...it's hard to know that I am not alone...when I'm at my blackest. It's hard to realize that there are patches of sunshine shining through the dark woods, until you're standing in them. It's hard to smile through fears.

Mat Kearney crooned,

On and on and on we pray, we can break into a brighter day. Nothing worth anything ever goes down easy.
On and on and on we go. I don't understand this windy road. Nothing worth anything ever goes down easy.

And he's right. Nothing worthy anything ever goes down easy. Winning the fight makes the prize that much more valuable.

Facing the fears make the confidence in the end worthwhile.

The smiles and laughter when you've grown through the tears suddenly feel so much more special.

As a photographer, when you look through the lens, you don't just look for the beauty. Your eye scans through the eyepiece, searching for the ugliness, in order to diminish it and exposing the true beauty.

You compose, you expose...you shoot to make beauty your focus. You work to make the perfect picture in the end. You don't just snap the button and have magic. You get magic it by working for it.
You use the ugliness to your advantage.

As I walked through an apple farm with my family today, falling in love with autumn all over again, noting the way the color of the light made everything feel...captivating...I noted that somehow it was worth it all. It is worth the working all week long, the constant studying, the stress, the tears, the fears of the work week to enjoy special, happy moments.

The hard work makes the moments of relaxing that much more restful. Wearing comfy clothes, laughing with little siblings, drinking apple soda...I soaked it all in. Memorizing details, capturing images in my mind as well as on my phone.  Nothing worth anything goes down easy, yet we struggle on and on. Because these moments are worth it all, in spite of the hardships.

Happy Autumn!

Writer's Block

There are times when writing drives me completely insane! I mean, the times when it just won't flow out and I'm stuck with these scenes in my head and yet no way to get them out, pen to paper! It's so completely aggravating. Which is why I am so excited to say that brilliance has struck in a completely different form...and that brilliance came from...*drumroll*...Pinterest, where else? :P

Pinterest is good for many different things...I'll admit, I'm addicted. ;) Who isn't, these days?
Anywho, I found an image on Pinterest of a journal...a journal overflowing with pictures and words and ticket stubs and postcards...little pieces of beauty. And it struck me as I saw that image: that is exactly what my novel is about! Finding beauty, even in little things...even in times when it's hardest to find anything of beauty. And as I discussed these ideas with my favorite writing friend: Scarlett!...I found myself getting more and more excited. I decided to try something new...something more 3-D when it came to capturing the thoughts and feelings and emotions of my characters. 

I've recently started to edit my novel, transcribing it from 3rd person POV to 1st person. It's been very strange, to say the least, especially since it's been years and years since I attempted to write a novel in first person. Needless to say, the first time I attempted it years ago was not successful. I found it to be much too difficult. Yet, ever since I started this novel, something kept nagging me at the back of my mind that this novel was *meant* to be written in first person. I ignored it but eventually had to give in. And happily, it's made writing the novel that much easier!

All that to say, I've begun to place myself in the shoes of my protagonist...to try to *be* her. What have I done? I've taken novel planning to the next level. ;) 

I took all my scrapbooking supplies, a blank journal, all my magazines and spare pictures/postcards, etc. and plopped them down on my bedroom floor. With a corkboard and a fun playlist playing on my boombox...oh, yes, and don't forget a cup of tea!...I began to write, to piece together, to tape, to cut, to glue, to transcribe, to scribble...I lost myself in the world of Julian & Simon.

It's not necessarily the journal of Julian, my protagonist, so much as a journal of my discovering new people. I write out scenes for my  novel, I jot down notes, I paste in photographs and magazine clippings that illustrate what I'm trying to say. I put down photos of places and people that Julian sees.

What I'm doing is viewing the world through a character's eyes. 

It seems completely insane, doesn't it? To get one's self so wrapped up into a novel and to go to so much trouble to do so. It is insane! I'll admit it, readily! But it's also fun! And here's hoping it causes the juices to flow!

How far do you go to overcome writer's block? ;) 

To Laugh

Do you know what I loved about my job at summer camp? Who I was.
Not to say I was someone other than me, that I had switched personalities or anything...on the contrary, I was simply me. The beauty about my job was that, it didn't matter what I wore, how how I looked...the kids still loved me. They still hung out with me, they didn't give me weird looks, they didn't expect me to look polished. All they wanted was my attention, for me to laugh at their jokes, to spin the jumprope for them, to hold hula hoop contests with them, to draw pictures with them, to talk to them, to connect with them, to be silly, to joke, to smile, to make silly faces, to laugh...

I was more me than I've ever been on any job. And the beautiful thing was, being around those children made me confident that who I am, as a person, is okay. In fact, it's more than okay...I'm great as me. These children boosted my confidence in ways that no one else could!

Tiny hands slipping into mine as they said quietly with ease, "I love you, Samantha." *heartmelt*

Strong, small arms gripped around my waist as they yell, "HUG TIME!"

Sneaky grins as they shout, "Heads up!" and throw frisbees at my head.

Bursts of giggles as they watch me demonstrate the hula dance moves we learned...very, very awkwardly.

So much patience as they taught me to hula hoop properly.

But best of all, shared laughter as we proved just how silly we could be, how silly *I* could be. The fake voices, the idiotic dances, silly songs, fish faces, and the confidence and self-esteem to pull it all off without once feeling self-conscious.

Because with my kiddos, it didn't matter. There was no feeling self-conscious with my kids. They saw me for who I was, whether or not I looked a wreck or looked awkwardly dorky. And they still loved me for it. They probably loved me all the more because of it. And instead of feeling incredibly self-conscious or embarrassed, I found myself laughing. Not really at myself or at anything in particular...just laughing because there was the love to laugh all around me.

At camp I found that life is surrounded by opportunities of laughter. When you feel like a dork, when someone does something silly, even when nothing is particularly funny but you feel a surge of happiness you just laugh.

Shyness, tears, loneliness, grumpiness...it's all taken away when you sit down next to a child and begin to talk, to share stories, to grin, make silly faces...all leading to laughter.
Those kiddos of mine showed me how wonderful it is to be me.

They taught me to laugh.

To Smile

Smile. 

I am working as a camp counselor at a day camp. I am in charge of the younger children's group...the 5-7 year olds. 

As I stand watch over them at lunch time, I look across the pavilion, and the eyes of one of my kiddos catches mine. 

Their whole face lights up in the widest smile you can imagine. It is so infectious, that you can't help but smile back. It is so sweet and adoring that you just grin with delight. 

I stand, watching my kids playing, getting along. I smile as I see my youngest kiddo comforting her older friend over a scraped knee. 

I smile as I see the lil boys admiring the blood they acquire from a fall. 

I smile when I see a kiddo running toward me, arms out-stretched, ready to tackle me in a hug. 

I smile when I'm greeted each morning with a, "SAAAAAM! Guess WHAT??" The excitement, the enthusiasm, the delight, the joy I see every day in my kiddos. It is addicting, it is infectious. 

Even on the days that my kids are dropped off in tears because they don't want their moms to leave...minutes later, they see me and turn those frowns upside down. 

These kids teach me every day to greet life with a smile. To smile through the tears, to seize each moment with utter delight! To be so enthralled with life and the opportunities in front of me with such enthusiasm. To love life to the fullest. 

These kids teach me to smile. 

Part 3: I Am Loved

As I said already, even I struggle with accepting someone, showing them tolerance when they are so very different from myself. It's hard in those moments when you really don't understand why someone is the way they are, or why they make decisions as they do. But sometimes, when you make the deep connection of true, real friendship, you just *do*...there's no thought or question in your mind that you will accept them, you will tolerate them, because they are your bosom friend. 

Amy already shared with you her side of our story, now I am going to share mine. 

Amy was right...we are very different. And yet somehow it works. When I first met Amy, she had become a new member of a girls' only forum I ran. I intimidated her (me! intimidating HER of all people!!) and she...well, I distinctly remember thinking she and her sister were the two sweetest girls I'd ever met. So sweet that it didn't feel POSSIBLE. Boy, was I wrong. ;) It is possible. But that sweetness also hides a mischievous nature and an abundance of silliness. 

We both struggled as teens, discovering who we were, trying to become the perfect godly women we *should* be, and often we would nearly headbutt over how to go about that. Almost. But never quite. Because even during that time of being completely different, we tolerated each other. We accepted each other. All because we loved each other. 

I remember the one time where we each were intent on converting the other. And we agreed to present our case to each other. I sent her a book on keeping the Saturday Sabbath and Biblical Feast Days. She sent me the DVD of "Amazing Grace: The History & Theology of Calvinism". I laugh now, looking back...the two of us so determined not to be changed but wanting to be tolerant, and both of us digging into each other's beliefs to debate with each other at a later time. I remember our discussion after we both read/watched each other's book/dvd. I was growing frustrated that Amy wasn't appearing to understand and then I realized...she was probably thinking the same thing about me. And then it changed for me. I learned to accept that it was okay. 

That wasn't the true test of our acceptance for one another. In fact, when the true test came, I didn't even see it as a test. But looking back, I see how much I put Amy through and my heart just overflows that she stuck through the worst of times...for me. 

My best friend died. Quite suddenly and the impact of it all caused me to break down. In just a matter of days, I shoved everyone out of my life to grieve on my own. The sympathy, the love, the desire people had to show me they cared and wanted to talk and wanted to be there for me drove me crazy. I could not stand it. And I remember getting so angry and frustrated that Amy would not leave me alone. I was so blinded by my depression that I could not see that she was genuinely concerned for me. That she loved me so much that she wanted to stand with me while I hurt. Over and over and over again, I kept pushing her away. And it hurt her. So much. Now, it breaks my heart that it did. 

But. She did not give up on me. She waited. And when I finally let her back in my life, my testing her hadn't ended. I had changed through my depression. I was a completely different person. I'm sure I was overly-serious to the point of being obnoxious, I was even more blunt and I probably had a "I don't give a shit" kind of attitude toward the world. 

She accepted me, all the same. All because she loved me. 

To this day, Amy and I are still vastly different in so many ways. Seriously. How can my bestie love "The Newsies"?? THE NEWSIES! And Justin Bieber! *facepalm* And yet, if you talk to her, she'll say, "How can MY bestie love 'Harry Potter'??? And 'Napoleon Dynamite'??"

Oh, gosh, can she STILL drive me crazy! This girl is the energizer bunny compared to my tortoise self. She is always going going going, no matter what. And I am the evil Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde if I don't get enough sleep! Man, this girl puts up with so much crap from me, it's ridiculous! Oh, yes, and the creepy way she gets me to sing Taylor Swift in the car is just...embarrassing. I don't know how she does it.

But you know what? It doesn't matter. As the days and years go by, we seem to grow more alike in what is important. And when you agree on what's important and when you learn how to accept and tolerate differences, nothing holds you back in creating a beautiful friendship. 

Amy. This wonderful girl is amazing. She listens to my every rant with nothing but love and encouragement. She prays for me, no matter what the issue is. When we talk about getting together, she never puts it off. She is always ready to commit to a plan. We connect every. single. day, whether it be text or Facebook. People think friendship can last through random visits and sporadic chats. And maybe it can. But a best friendship lasts because of the strong commitment between two people. Amy is committed through not just the good times but the worst of times. She never gives up on me. And you don't know how that makes me cry. To be so accepted because of a strong love. 

Amy doesn't judge me. In fact, I learned through her example what true acceptance looks like. True acceptance is unconditional love. Do you know how rare it is to receive unconditional love? I thought about it and realized just how FEW people in my life right now love me unconditionally. How FEW friends love me unconditionally. And pretty much at the top of the list is Amy. 

I am going to make a reference that Amy won't get since she is so not a nerdy person who watches Doctor Who. *AHEM* *COUGH* *LOOKS POINTEDLY AT HER* 

But Amy, my bestie, so to speak, really is "...the girl who waited". She waited for me through the bad time and was still there when I returned to her. Her friendship, her sweetness, her acceptance, and most importantly, her love was stronger than ever. 

Do I understand her, with all her energy and silliness and her intense dislike of coffee (seriously, how are we even friends??)? Not always. But her love for me and her acceptance of me reaches beyond the petty things. And that is what connects us. Our love and acceptance for each other. Amy taught me to love unconditionally as a best friend. A love so strong that not even separation, whether it be caused by depression or bodies of water, can end it. 

Amy accepts me. And I know that because of her, I am loved. 

"Writers are desperate people..."

For each book I finish reading, I bring home two more. It's a vicious, never-ending circle. And I love it.

So much of my reading stacks these days are made up of children's and young adult novels. Why? Two reasons really...I read when I'm tired these days, and the last thing I want is a particularly deep book that needs my entire mind to focus on. (No, I save those books for when I'm most energized in my mind!) Instead I choose children's and young adult books because of my love for them. The simple yet meaningful or total fluff and fun! stories that you can get totally sucked into, no matter what age you are.

But most importantly, I have been immersing myself into the world of young adult novels because I am writing a young adult novel. Part of the whole process of writing this novel has me digging deep into the mind of young, teenage Sam as well as reading book after book of young adults struggling with some issue in their lives. The language, the culture, the thought-process...it's like research for a  fictional story. On top of all that I have also dug out my own journals from ages 16-20 and oh the flood of memories comes back! Experiencing those feelings all over again, understanding, sympathizing with, and cringing at my old self. I went through those same novel-like moments of struggling to discover who I am.

In the odd yet brief, free moments that I have when I'm not reading, I am writing. My novel is coming along so slowly because the words have to be right with this novel. The understanding and opinions and attitudes of my characters...the struggles...all of it has to be as real as possible. But a little bit every other day or so, several sentences are added and the more I get to know my characters, the more I relate to them.

Isn't that why we read in the first place? We relate and yet it's not real...merely a distraction from life.
I won't lie, I have thought several times of giving up on this novel because I feel like I relate too much with the characters, and because all this reading and digging back into my past has brought back hard memories as well as pleasant ones.  But there is a side to me, the teenage Sam who wants this novel to be written. A book about young people who struggle and grow and crave understanding. It is a novel that must be written. So, here I am, comfortably situated on the couch, pillows behind my back, Pandora playing, and a cup of tea nearby as I let the words slip from fingers to keys. I know it won't be a great novel and most likely will never be published, but it will be mine. It is already mine...words that are a part of me in a way that some people cannot understand. And even if no one ever reads it, I know there will be a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction once I've finished this novel, because I am a writer and sometimes there are words that just need to be written.

Isn't that why writers write, after all? It's not because we love it, although we do...there are days where we absolutely loathe writing. It's not because we are passionate about words, although we are...there are days where we passionately wish we'd never write another word. It's because we must. However, I find that people assume that because I'm a writer that I write everyday. Normally, this is true...these days I tend to write every day, either in the form of a letter or a blogpost or a journal entry. However, I can go weeks, even months without writing a single word for myself. This is especially true during a school semester. I get over-loaded with essays and papers and assignments for school writing that my desire for any other writing becomes burnt out. Do I believe a writer has to write everyday to be a writer? No, I don't. I think a writer writes when he or she simply needs to. If there is the desire to write and you follow up on that desire, you are a writer, in my book.

Tell me, why do you write? What do you write? Perhaps the words come out in a trickle or in a steady stream. Perhaps they appear once every blue moon or perhaps every day. I am not a strong writer in the sense that my writing is spectacular, nor do I fool myself to believe that many people read this blog or enjoy it. But I write because the words come. More often than not they come messily and in a confused ball that seems to just spew out of my mind.

So, yes, please, tell me, why do you write? Share something with me, ask about guest-posting on my blog! Share your blog! Share a novel, a poem, a journal entry...anything! I am intensely curious about other writers who write because they must.

Happiness

The art of battling fake happiness.

I mentioned two posts ago about Sam, at 17, who would fake her way to perfection. Real emotions were hidden and happiness faked. The sad thing about my life is, that it has become much too easy for me to give into a way of faking happiness. Once you accomplish the art of faking happiness, it can soon become a replacement for one's impression of genuine happiness.

Fake happiness is just that, fake. There is no real joy, it is all smiles and laughter and jokes made for disguise. A disguise for the real emotions that lie at heart.

Sometimes, I find myself faking the happiness to indeed get to real happiness. But what happens when you become so accustomed to faking it so much? You tend to forget what is real and what is not.

I battled depression, still battle depression, for going on two years now. And that is when I mastered faking it. Today, I am learning the art of discovering happiness.

How can one discover happiness? Isn't happiness just something that happens? Isn't it a feeling that just occurs when you actually are just happy?

Maybe it is, and often it does occur naturally. But the most wonderful thing about happiness is that it can be discovered. Stumbled upon. 

It's the art of seeing the bright side, accepting the bright side, and rejecting anything else that is less than real.

It is seeing the beauty in the simple things, allowing yourself to enjoy, not holding yourself back.

Happiness is...two kinds of ice cream...
It is...sunshine on a cloudy day...

It's a cup of coffee, a pair of jeans that fit just right, a heart-felt conversation, a time of waiting, a time of action...

Happy June 1st. Go and find some happiness.