Screaming Silent Suffering.


You turn on the shower, this is no unordinary movement. You open your mouth to say something but don’t even know where to begin. Nothing comes out. 

You get in and just let the water run, you’ve done this more than three hundred million times in your life. You’re scared and you know you feel it, but you give it a go anyways. You pour out your heart. 

You realize after a while, you’ve gotten used to the heat. You turn the nozzle up. You realize nothing gets through. Nothing is understood. Nothing is more clarified than it was before this new version of the same repetitive argument. 

The new temperature isn’t satisfactory, the nozzle goes up another time. You start to feel it again. Different boyfriend, years and years later, same sick wonder. What if none of this changes? 

Maybe the temperature gauge is broken, so you crank that bad boy up. It’s almost becoming too late now-it’s feeling like there’s no point in fighting. Fighting for what? You stand back silent, knowing deadliness of the heart.


It’s so different, but so similar at the same time. You know the water is hot enough, but you keep turning it up anyways. The lukewarm water isn’t good enough, it’s not okay to just be mediocre ‘okay.’ You get sick of having to turn the temperature up, so you blast it. The second that scorching water hits your skin you jump back against the cold wall of the shower-out of the direct line of fire of the piercing bullets coming from above. In that fight or flight moment, you choose flight-the fight isn’t worth your heart anymore. Then it all changes, you dabble your fingers in the fight, and try to tell yourself it isn’t as bad as you thought. So you tell your body to armor up, it’s time for battle. You step back into the fire, and let the attack rain down. At first it’s miserable. Your body doesn’t want to stand it, and begs you to give it relief from the misery. Your mind tells you a little more strength and perseverance is all you need, you can take more than you think. All of the sudden you find your mind wandering elsewhere, only then realizing you aren’t thinking about the pain any longer. You put your hand into the bullets and realize you’re numb. Now you think maybe the torture has gone on long enough, and you shut the operation down. Reaching for your towel, all you see is red. You look down and notice it’s everywhere. Your entirety is covered with red. Every single visible ounce of you is blotched and burning bright back up at you. The under-lying bruises are the only things you can see shining clearly through the red haze. Quizzical.

You step out and everything is vivid in your mind. You wonder what just happened?

It’s simple really.

The only pain you can control.

Equip of the Willing, Heart of the Able.


Have you ever seen a counselor? I have, on and off for probably around fifteen years. Not a lot of people know that about me. These counselors talk a lot about how you have points of impact in your days. Points of your life that deeply change you. That halt you in your tracks and reshape your destination. Moments that change your mind about everything you thought you knew and your point of view altogether. I think a lot about those seconds in time in my own life. I think there were too many points of impact for me to think about. Which one was it, which one shattered me way back when? Do our points of impact show up in the form of someone else? Was it any of you? Multiple villains that tore apart my life for such similar and yet distinctive reasonings? Was it something I did? Brought on by the dark and distorted woman I fell to becoming? I’m continuously curious. I’ve endured many of these points in my few days. So many terrible, horrible, gut wrenching points of impact that should have broken me long before the last.

I’ve been told many times that there’s something bigger to my story, to who I am and the things that I’ve been through. Whenever people say this kind of thing to me, I get all wrapped up within my own imagination. For a few seconds, I let myself think this could be a reality. That maybe someday, the Lord could have me sharing all of the deep, dark, and intimate details of the hells I’ve trudged through here on this side of heaven. That through all of the soul scorching struggles I have endured, and overcome through the Lord alone, someone else could understand. The idea that I could meet some other woman or man where they’re at, and show them what the Lord has shown me. It’s surreal. It would be the utmost honor.

Part of me feels this, while the other part pulls in the opposite direction. I have a great understanding that this is a world pouring out over the brim with these stories of painful lives. While I haven’t heard even the smallest amount of the ones that are out there, I think about them. I hear other peoples’ stories, I think about my own, and I think about the stories that are still not laid upon my ears, upon my heart. I know the importance of having my story be heard by people. Just as I know I need to hear the deepest wounds from the hearts of others. I long to be able to cry with them, mourn with these broken hearts over the sinful natures of our earthly home. I can’t help but feel though, that my story is too deep for some people. That if I truly and fully disclosed all of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions I’ve gone through within my own experiences, people would pull away in fear. Why wouldn’t they? It’s some deadening stuff….painfully miserable darkness.

I went through my share of depressing days-leaning on mentally, emotionally, and physically degrading of self. Sadly, they lasted far too long than should have ever began. But for a while now, I’ve been taking act in better ways to cope with the curveballs life and the enemy throw my way. For years, I’ve been an on and off runner. Loving it certain days, hating it the next-unable to fully decide where I stand. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of running. A lot, a lot. And it makes my heart so beyond blessed. For a half a year I thought about doing a half marathon. Back then, up until a month and a half ago, the thought of running miles made me just as exhausted as I get from saying that. I always classified myself as a ‘lower category of runners.’ One that doesn’t fit in the ‘half marathon-able group.’ But why is that? Why would there even be these made up categories in my mind? Do I honestly think God puts these barriers on my capabilities as a person, as a woman made in His image? Heck no!

So I’m training! And I’m doing it! And I won’t give up, even when it gets hard.

Though when I started training, I thought there wouldn’t be a wall. I thought I’d just keep running on the daily, lowering my times while building up my miles. Then this Tuesday, I got sick. I felt absolutely horrid. Just ridiculous brain clogging, a terrible sore throat, and the most zombified exhaustion of the body I’ve had in a really long time.

I was clearly in no capable position to go out and run many a miles. So I had two days off in a row. During those two days, I tried everything in my powers, and those of the Higher dependency, to get back to normal. Yesterday, I wasn’t feeling even closely back to my normal self. But, I wasn’t dying. So I made myself get up and get out, pushing forward. I ran four miles. A route that should have literally felt like absolutely nothing after the ridiculous amount of running my body has graciously let me accomplish lately. After my miles were up, I was thoroughly peeved. I was so ashamed in myself. Realizing how far my training had fallen in just two days, all because I was sick. I guess I just left it at that.

Then today, I pushed myself a little harder. I prayed a little harder while I stretched before I headed out. I knew I was feeling slightly better, and that was enough for me to mentally trudge forward-halfway willing. Yet again, my body was more than exhausted within the first mile and a half. It just didn’t make any sense to me. It felt like my body didn’t even know what it was doing. Like I was running down the sidewalk, probably looking like the strangest dangling noodle flailing down the street. My mind could only imagine the crazy I looked to those poor bystanders on the streets. But crazy flailing noodle or not, I did my run anyways. I pushed myself to continue on anyways. Because it’s important to me. And knowing it’s important to me, I know it’s important to God too. 

So, mile four hit. Finally. Literally ready to drop to the side of Elmwood and Vine, not a care in the world. However, I didn’t do that. I started walking, ready to cool down before heading home. I took my arm band off to end my workout on Nike. And then I heard this song I have, something I’ve never heard before. It caught my attention as a foreign song on my running playlist-kind of like a spoken word art. Almost instantly, my body was just covered in chills. Goosebumps crawled over every single part of me. The words that powered heavily into my headphones were weighing so heavily on my heart, and I knew right away I had to keep running. So I did, I ran to the rest of this song, completely ignorant to the pain my body was in. As I ran, I could still see the goosebumps still crawling all over and around my body. The outward appearance an example of the emotions running through my heart like my feet running along the sidewalks of this town. Never before have I experienced something quite similar to this. So many God moments in my life, in all that I’ve lived through and within-just nothing like this. Never before have I felt so convicted to be exactly who I am in Christ. Feeling so beyond blessed to be the woman I am everyday for the righteous Lord my heart is called to serve. Never before have I ended my run quite like this. Pushing so hard forward, tears streaming so freely from my eyes down my cheeks. Thanking God so heavily for His time with me. Time within my heart that I’ve been seeking out from Him. Time to have Him lay everything on my heart-all that He wants me to do, be, and live in my own life, solely for Him. Thanking Him for this time to be vulnerable and weak, to let Him build me back up again.

I’m so grateful for this convicting song. This song that will probably never mean to another what it does in my heart. The impact it had on me through those three minutes and forty-five seconds. It truly amazes me, the great power we find in such a simplicity of words. You read a story or phrase, a poem, sometimes just a word, or hear a song that moves you to tears. That’s the kind of writing I want to make real in this world. The kind of impact the Lord has on my heart every moment of every single day. The broken down, vulnerable, Truth in it all. It’s the kind of emotion and heart wrench that drops you to your knees at the feet of the Lord. Unashamed to be exactly who you are, knowing full well that He’s waited for you to let go of everything else. To drop the world, and pick up your cross. That’s the kind of impact I want my thoughts, words, and actions to have on the people around me. Even if it’s just one person. Just another person to us here on earth is the wondrous angel God seeks for Heaven.

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Lucky Number Thirteen.


Welp, here goes nothin..


You may think you played an insignificant part in my history. But you’re still someone that I hurt. Someone that felt the trials of my ever changing heart. While still so young, you were devastated. I never understood until four plus years later, when you finally admitted it to me. When you finally asked me why things happened the way they did. I wish I had the answers you sought out back then.


You taught me the meaning of a true friendship. In a twisted kind of way. That you would be there for me absolutely no matter what, no if-ands-or-buts-about-it. There’s something deeply cherished in that. But you also continuously help into pulling me away from everything I know I stand for in my cherished life. Or used to. Because that’s over and done with. Never again.


Sadly for you, you were the first one that truly hurt over me during all of the in between. You were one of the first ones that told me to walk away, that there’s no way it could work after so much hurt had been done. That I deserved so much more. You made sure that I had an understanding of what I was pulling myself back into. You were right.


You were all wrapped up in sin in my life. It’s so beyond frustrating to me. I know that I shouldn’t ever wish any parts of my story away. I know that God redeems all, that He is bigger than any of the sins my past could ever hold over my head. But my sins with you are devastating. And when does that leeway end? I don’t even remember what it was ever like being that damaged of a young woman. But I know that because I was her at one point in my life, you suffered heartache.


My story with you is an emotional one. You were kind of difficult for me to understand always. When we talked, I knew in my heart of hearts the type of woman God desired me to be. I had gotten a taste of what it was like to be the absolute opposite. Of what it meant to go against everything I knew I wanted to stand for in my life. I had a choice to make. Fall back into the type of life I knew I never again wanted to touch, or move on with my life. Making my best attempt to give my future and faith a fair shot.


The first guy to ever take me on a truly honest real date. Picking every detail about what our date consisted of, where we went to dinner, picking me up at my doorstep, opening my car door, bringing my a King Sized Reeses (kudos to you), walking me back to my doorstep. I was so flattered. I know I enjoyed being able to spend time with you. You respected me intently, but it just wasn’t enough for me to stay at that place in my life. I needed to pull toward my faith more than settle where I was in it at that point.


I forget how it is that we even became a thing. It feels like a whole other lifetime. To no mistake of your own, I fell away from my faith during that month. But as a result, I realized what effort I needed to continuously put in to pursuing my faith. I could’ve done without it, but God uses it all.


You taught me to not be the one to pursue. Not because you manned up, but more of a trial and error issue of my heart. Sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time I had to learn this. But this one was the big one. It really showed me to respect myself enough to trust God over my own instincts. Because my instincts will be wrong. No doubt about it. I just know you really cared…even though you’re unhealthily excessive about it.


The thought of the time I spent with you seems so foreign and weird. I guess you taught me that things would almost always be too good to be true. And when they were, to run for the hills. Because that’s just what you did. I guess when someone is everything you’ve ever wanted, they still aren’t enough. Makes sense. Great for the self esteem of a woman.


You are such a genuine person. Literally one of the most kind hearted people I have ever met. You are wise, and thorough about the life you want you live. You strive for a determined future, for being wonderfully and truthfully happy. That’s very admirable. You treated me like a princess. Unbelievably so.


Just so random. I think when someone drops off the face of the earth and ignores you for absolutely no reason, that should hint at you to pack your bags running. But, someone’s an ignorant girl. *cough* My life. Just because I’m twenty doesn’t mean I have to be grown up and wise yet. I had just barely turned twenty merely a week ago, so that barely counts as growing up-right??


You’re a toughy. You are confusing, angry, and probably right to hate me. You were one of my best friends. Someone I cherished more. So maybe this ache hurts more than any of the rest because you were truly cared about long before I broke your heart. You think that no matter what I came into your life for a reason, but I think you were in mine for an even larger one. I think you’re the switch. I think you were the trigger to my loaded gun. That all of this has been building up for a long time. That it was a fire I watched ignite itself. And now I watch as our friendship goes up in flames because of my own selfish past. Know, that I’m praying for you always. Even when the rest is dead and gone.


I’ve written novels on you, and I don’t really think I have to add to it. This that I’ve said before still remains true..You are the muse to the darkness inside me. That should be enough for me to understand. Thanks for that..

I thought this was a good idea. I thought this would bring some kind of clarity. Some kind of perspective, or closure. Something to make it all official and there to simply see. See the hurt, grasp an understanding of the damages done. Can we wash my war paint off yet?

But it makes me sick to my stomach. So many broken hearts. And for what? Ending one vicious cycle just to pick up another? Do I truly think I’m better off now? I ended a terrible cycle in my life that truly hurt two people. It hurt me, and him. Then my new cycle, while unintentional, it hurts. It burns, it breaks, shatters and rips apart every piece of you.

I guess that’s where humility comes in. Because this is one blog I’m not proud to write. These are words that break my heart to have to bring into reality. These truths that so many people will never understand. That I don’t understand. That I can’t even begin to put into order. It’s truly shattering.

My entire life, it was drilled into my head that the phrase “I’m Sorry” means that “you’ll never do it again.” So I grew up paying close attention to when people threw that phrase in my face. Like it simply meant less to them than yesterday’s worthless losing lottery ticket numbers. I always despised when people would say “I’m Sorry.” I grew up learning to doubt it. To think back to them, but are you really sorry? Because most of the time, they aren’t. And most of the time, they’re really saying it for themselves. To make themselves feel better about acting like a crappy, inhumane individual.

So I’m going to tell you something, although it’s no giant secret. In fact, i’m quite sure I’ve told you before. So in that sense, let me reiterate to you. From the very depths of my heart and soul, I’m Sorry. For causing you pain, for being the source of your heartache-no matter how big or small. It matters. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that before. Your heart, it wasn’t deeply protected by me the way it should’ve been. It wasn’t paid close enough attention to. It was mistreated, emotionally abused, and let down. I know I’m human and I’m bound to let you down. But it wasn’t supposed to be like that for you. So I’m sorry. I can only imagine the heartaches of trauma I made you suffer through. I hope you know it was never in my intention. And I know that doesn’t really matter. From experience, I know that hurt is hurt, no matter the direction it’s coming from. When life feels like it’s ending, I promise you it isn’t. Just remember, God’s got your back. He’s not letting you go through all of this for no reason. He has a purpose, and He’s just waiting for you to accept that and find peace in it. Trust in Him.

Somewhere, I think it had to end. That this life shattering cycle would come to a close. I just never thought I’d see the day it would literally come crashing down all around me. Every which way I turn. Although it’s sad, I know to look for the good in it all. I know better now to deeply embrace it. To embrace the change, the quiet hearted peace. To know that whatever is going on here, chaos and all, just means that God is doing serious work up above.

So tell me, now that you have a teeny understanding of just how bad I’ve messed it all up, what would you do? You seem to know all of the answers my life doesn’t even ask anyways…oh, wait.

Will she ever be seen differently? Will she ever stop feeling like the people that look at her see right through her? Will she ever stop feeling like the people that look her in the eyes can see her burning pain that’s hidden so carefully deep below the surface? Will she ever stop feeling forever damaged and broken? Like a mosaic gone so wrong, the shattered glass can’t be created into anything new. Will she ever stop feeling like the world’s largest unsolvable puzzle? Like each of these thousand pieces is from an entirely different puzzle. Assuring there is no way to solve it, put it all together, or make it whole again. Just damaged. Broken.

Heartbreak is real. Sin is real. And it will tear your entire life apart. It will consume your identity. Make you mistake even yourself for who you really are.

Lucky number thirteen. Thirteen broken hearts. One shattered girl.

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This morning, I woke up and I didn’t want to get out of bed. I really love to sleep, and I don’t mean to brag…but sleep really loves me too. This morning I woke up and stayed in bed an extra half an hour like just any other morning when I’m not rushing off to anything. I finally got up, and went on a run. Nothing too dramatic, your average three and a half miles. I ran because I’ve gotten into the system of it this week and I felt like striving on. Like normal, I waited until too late in the day, even though it was only nine in the morning. Still, it was beyond hot and humid to be out on those country roads, burnin rubber under the soles of my feet. By the time I got home from my run, my parents were getting up just as I was cooling down. After placing myself in front of my fan for ten minutes, dousing myself in a bottle of water, I went in by my mom. I needed a pep talk. Tonight was supposed to be the first night I would work PM’s by myself at my new job. I had only trained for two days, and I felt ready, but hesitant to take on this task. After my mom gave me some words of wisdom, I thought I was another step in the ready direction for the hefty goal of the day. So I took a shower, put on my scrubs, and mentally prepared myself. I figured I’d make the day worth as much as I could, getting things accomplished. So I ran to FonDuLac quick, a few hours before my shift started. I thought of how productive I was being, and I felt pretty proud of myself. I made two different stops and got things done! I left my last stop in time to get me to work thirty minutes early. Plenty of time to look over all of my resident notes, and update myself on anything new I needed to know from being off the last two days. I tried to be an overachiever today. I set my GPS up to get me to work because there’s construction consuming my normal route from FonDuLac to Mount Calvary. I headed out on the back roads, just like I do every single day. I watched as I left FonDuLac, I watched as I entered each tiny town, and left it just as quickly. Singing along with the radio like I was on the American Idol stage. I watched as I passed the Mount Calvary sign, pleased with how much time I’d have before work to prepare. I took a left onto Calvary Street. I thought to myself that I didn’t even need to look at my GPS anymore, I knew where I was, work was up the hill on the left. I was singing along to Macky’s “She’ll Come Runnin” on repeat like always. I thought to myself that I knew these roads pretty well. I thought to myself that this was the point where the speed limit changed. I glanced my eyes to my dash screen, and then back up at the road.

There he was. I didn’t even have time to react, but I did. Where did he even come from? I know I didn’t follow him into town. I didn’t follow anyone into town. It was just me. There was nobody on Calvary Street when I took that left. It was just me. But he must’ve come from somewhere, because here he is. All of this in a second.

I slammed my feet onto my breaks before my mind even realized what was happening. I’ve never heard sounds like that before. I’ve never felt a car jerk that way before. I stopped as much as I could as fast as I could. I tried to turn my car to the right to avoid him, but there was a sign there blocking the way to the field off the road. I had nowhere to go. He wasn’t moving, I couldn’t stop, and I had nowhere else to go.

And then we hit. Impact. Wreckage.

Now I have some kind of understanding of what the movies always make it look like. For those mere seconds, life slows. Everything in my car went flying. All of it pushing as far forward as it could go without escaping my windshield. My cold pizza for break at work, bouncing off my passenger air bag compartment. My tea and water flying from the middle counsel into my radio system. My purse and all of its contents, my books, my cell phone, everything flying forward so fast, with nowhere to go. My sunglasses, that sat so cozily on my face, completely ripped off and into the dashboard from the force. My body, every part of me pushing into my steering wheel. My head jerking forward so fast, still nowhere to go. My legs coming up so quick, smashing so hard into my steering wheel and dashboard. My seatbelt, pulling me as much back as possible against the heavy pulls forward. My breath, absolutely gone and speechless to my lips. My mind, not even understanding what is going on or what to do.

Then just black.

So many thoughts. So much shock. So many tears. I don’t even know how I managed to put my car in park. I didn’t remember to put on my hazards or turn my car off. Just to get out and see if he’s okay. Like a checklist in my mind. A shook up sob restarting after each mental box was x’d. His safety, check. The police, someone called, check. My parents, CRAP! Realizing how in shock I was. I ran back to my car and searched the upheaval inside for my cell phone. I couldn’t get my fingers still enough to unlock my phone, let alone dial my parents. So many unintelligible sobs I couldn’t even believe I was speaking. ‘I got in a car accident.’ I’m sure it came out absolutely nothing normal sounding like that. Still in shock, I didn’t even realize people were talking to me. Hannah, she asked you if you were okay. CRAP! I didn’t even think! Looking down and around myself to see if anything was battered or torn. No, no, I’m okay. Check. Work, CRAP! I’m a minute away, and I have to make this call. I won’t be coming in tonight. All of the mental preparations I was making, done for the day. Macky and Mandy, oh my gosh. How in the world could I call either of you and tell you I’ve been in a car accident? How did I get in this position? I don’t get in car accidents. This kind of thing has never happened to me before. The calls would have to wait, there’s no way I can mentally handle that right now. My car, I should probably look at it. Oh my gosh. This isn’t my car. My car is nice, beautiful, Dori. These shattered and smashed pieces all around are the remains of her front half. The broken headlights, blinkers, paint, plastic pieces strewn all over the road are now Dori. The massively crunched and smashed ends of her are her results. The wheel well insides laying behind my precious baby near the ditch, how did that get all the way back there? The bent axle and frame, how did that even happen? How did this even happen?

So much. So many people. So many questions. So much emotion. So much panic. So much confusion. So much shock. So many tears and breathless sobs. So much. Too much.

I couldn’t stop the thoughts from pouring in. What is God trying to show me? Why did this happen? I’ve always wondered what it would feel like. I’ve always wondered how it would happen. How the people I love would react. I can’t believe this happened to me. I can’t believe it. I was a minute away from work. I was so ready and motivated to be the best CNA I could be tonight. I was ready to take on this shift. What if I wasn’t getting to work a half an hour early? Would I still be in an accident? I woke up today like any other. Why do I take my life for granted? Do I take my life for granted? What if my accident was worse than it was? What if I never walked away from it? I never thought I’d see my brand new car being lifted on a tow, like a crumpled box car. I never thought I’d hear so much fear in my parents’ voices, ‘Are you OK?!’ I never thought I’d pray so much and so hard to God. Wondering what was going on, what I was supposed to do, begging Him to take the reigns. Begging Him for guidance. I just don’t understand. How did this happen to me?

I woke up this morning and I didn’t want to get out of bed. I wanted to lay in bed and dream about the people I love. This morning I got out of bed anyways and became productive with my day. I ran, because I have two working legs and two working feet and my body lets me run. I talked to strangers because I love to be friendly. I sang along to my favorite CD in my car, because whether or not it sounds good, I have a voice I can use.

I woke up this morning and I got in a wreck. Because I’m human. I cried heavy tears today because I was more scared and confused than I have ever been. I got angry because I didn’t have all the answers, and I’m the furthest thing away from them.

I woke up this morning and I know I took a million things around my life for granted. And that makes my heart the heaviest it’s been.

I woke up this morning and I literally saw that opportunity flash right before my eyes.



Tightrope Crawl.


“How’s school going for you?”

Probably my absolute least favorite question in the history of foreverdome. As a college student, I get this question literally all the time.

My typical response?

Inside– “College is terrible. I hate commuting. I hate the stress. I love the stress. I can’t handle this. Pile more on my shoulders. I’m not doing enough. I’m about 25% sure I failed two classes this semester. I hate it. Hate’s a terrible word, but right now I hate college. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I don’t know why I do this to myself. Is it this hard for everyone else? Why can’t my experiences be as great as everyone else’s? Why do I have to put myself through school. WOW I complain a lot! Blame certain professors. Take the blame upon yourself. Stop! Just, stop. God’s got a plan. You know this. In the end, He puts you through what you go through for a reason. You know this. Stop. Just breath. You’re OK! We’re going to make it through this. Breath.”

Outside– *Smile and tilt head* “College is college.”

It’s so complicated and yet so simple at the same time. I can’t really fully understand it all, but I am putting my faith in Christ. When I was in high school, I didn’t have to try hard. I got a near 4.0, and I didn’t have to put in millions of studying hours to get there. I guess you could say I was blessed by this. A lot of people wish they had that capability. But now? Now, I feel it’s more of a curse than anything. I never learned the techniques I needed to in high school to be able to be somewhat naturally ready for college success. On top of making the millions of daily adjustments it takes to make this huge transition, I have to learn of this as well. I have to learn how to study, how to really apply myself, how to stay motivated, how to cope with all of it. Tomorrow, I’m officially done with my sophomore year of college, I’m headed off to juniorland. I’m headed off to be a junior, and I have absolutely no idea how I got here. Throughout my four previous semesters of college, I can distinctly remember one of them where I felt I did as well as I wanted. Where I was actually proud to answer the forbidden question, ‘How’s school going for you?’ The rest of the time? I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed in my efforts [or extreme lack there of] for numerous classes. I’m highly disappointed in myself for not being the shining student I was throughout my first twelve primary years of my education. Twelve years of being known for being bright, intelligent, and applying myself more than most. Two years of having the absolute most difficult time doing literally anything right when it comes to school.

Within the last two years, I have grown and changed more than I ever thought was possible in what seems like such a short time. It will never fail to surprise me how in a day, the various paths my life is headed on change and shift around so much. Nothing is constant. Change, is constant. And God, is constant. Nothing else is ever going to be constant. There’s just no absolutes in this life other than Christ. Huge revelation. Something I am reminded of so often. Throughout my first two years of college, my heart has gone through so much. There have been literally endless struggles when it comes to family issues, relationship issues, self identity issues, and the list goes on. One thing after another, I have struggled. I have been tempted and tried. I have succeeded in some areas, and fell completely flat on my face in others. Most definitely though, I’ve done more of the falling flat than the rising up. At least that’s what it feels like anyways. But that’s not to say I haven’t grown. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. At least I can take security in the fact that all of my struggles, all of my hardships, have grown me in some way or another. From each tough time I was put into or I put myself into, I learned. I’m still learning. Always. Every new day brings me endless opportunities to grow, learn, and show the same capabilities to others around me.

Some days, are just always going to be a little more tough to get through than others. Today, wrapping up my semester, is one of those days. Reflecting back on this past semester is kind of tough. I came into it completely new-eager and excited for a new start I knew was a long time coming in my life. Yes, my past, my old ways, and my memories will always carry with me. But I’m nothing of who I used to be. I was changed drastically, I was reshaped and molded into a new version of myself. I was metamorphosed. [Yes, that is a real word, I looked it up.] This transfer home, was the outward expression of an inward emotion. To me, it signified moving on with my life from the things of the past, and becoming more of who I have been called to be. So I got the move home part down, that was simple-ish. It’s the rest of it that falls into blurry details of the background. I don’t really know yet if I became more of who I feel I’m called to be, or if it’s just all in my head that I’ve grown and changed over the last half year. In certain aspects, I feel growth. I feel different. I feel like I can distinctly see the areas of impact on my life and my heart that will never go back. Really I guess, the only place I don’t really feel the growth is in school. The community of school? Definitely. Knowing my major is where I belong and feel I can excel? Still pretty sure. Pressing forward and being a kick butt student that is like, smart, and stuff? Definitely not. Which is quite unfortunate.

But you know what? I know God’s got it. He’s seen this. This disappointment and self-loathing type feeling I feel deep inside? He knows. He knows the certain ways I mourn for this semester. For the person I want to be. For the person I used to be. He knows the internal battle I fight every day. The well known fight against the flesh. He knows. And He will honor me, as I continue to honor Him.

So today, it kind of sucks. Today I’m sad that I’m not better than I am. Today I’m a lot disappointed in the student that I have been. But, repentance, mercy and grace are beautifully crafted in the hand of the Father.

And tomorrow is a new day.

Thank God for that.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”  Psalm 16:5-8

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The Odds Of Being My Life.


Alright, So it turns out the second week of year twenty was way more eventful and lesson filled than the first. First of all, basically it’s been decided that the answer to just about any question I could have is about as simple as ‘Jesus.’ Literally, like why is ice cream amazing? Jesus. Why do I love to sleep so much, but function so well on so little? Jesus. More importantly, who alone should you run to when you’re lonely? Yea, Jesus.

The first moral of this week, is a very simple mantra of mine:

Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT reach out to any exes when you’re lonely. Not an ex boyfriend, not an ex fling, not an ex crush.

I don’t care if it’s an ex-treme situation. Or an ex-citing story to tell them about only they would understand. Don’t even try to tell me any kind of ex-cuse. Because honey, my mind has used them all. Instead, remind yourself of who they really turned out to be in your life. Use them as an ex-ample of what you don’t want to let your heart settle for. If you don’t protect your own heart, nobody else will. And it’s beyond ex-hausting to continously bandage up your still gushing wounds.

So yea, just don’t do it. Simple.

Instead, reach out to Jesus. Seriously? I don’t even need to go on. Y’allready know how amazing He is. How He fills every void we think is too low inside ourselves for anyone to reach? Welp, guess what? Jesus is everywhere. And only His love can touch the untouchable broken parts within you.

Secondly, don’t let your frightening exes take control of your actions/emotions.

I have spent literally far too long avoiding. I avoid exes to reduce drama and reduce any chance of awkward conflicts I don’t deem necessary in my life. It’s gotten to be more stressful to try and avoid the conflicts, than I think the conflicts would actually be at this point. I spend so much time constantly checking over my shoulders. Making sure in certain situations that I’m safe, that I’ve got my own back. Literally seems insane, but you just never know….especially not with you two. Not with the things you do to get ahold of me. Really though, seems like both of you need to get ahold of your own realities, and steer clear from mine, of which you think is yours. Confusing, huh? I literally avoid places that I am supposed to feel the absolute most comfortable and safe…just because I don’t want to be targeted by you. I avoid my old friends because I don’t want you to be around, I don’t want you to be brought up. I simply just want to be left alone.

Talk about a cry for help.

Anyway, onwards. My lesson this week, has been to screw the rule book on avoidance. You want to be creepy and confrontational? Whatever. Bring it. Just prepare yourself for a thoroughly peeved off version of Hannah that won’t hold back. Example A: this blog. I’m done hiding and shying away from anything in my life, because I’m scared of you. I’ve got the absolute Greatest Protector, and He’s got my best interest at heart. So, there’s that.

Last but not least, my lesson is my own happiness.

I literally love so much to be happy. I am really taking advantage of any opportunity I can to just find the best in things. Certain aspects of life are always going to be unideal. That’s why it’s life. However, that doesn’t mean at all that I have to be down, blue, or a grumpasaurus because of conditional things. Of course, I’m a full on supporter of the ice cream, romance movie, cry-your-eyes-out-into-your-pillow kind of night. But grieve it out, get up, and push forward. Life is precious. Every second deserves to be cherished, and through it all God more than deserves to be honored.

Ah, brain knowledge…

Week too.

Weak two.

Weak too.

Week two.

[May 2-May9]

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