What it's like to be "The Girl from Texas"

Texas, Our Texas! All hail the mighty State!

Texas, Our Texas! So wonderful so great!

Other than a short three year period where I lived in Boca Raton, Florida (to which I give credit for my initial Spanish skills, bleach blonde hair, and desire to travel) I have lived in Texas my entire life. Good ole Texas. Tejas. The Lone Star State. 

Home of dance halls, several former presidents (looking good there GB Sr.), performers (ummmm Beyoncé end of story), Wranglers, it's own genre of country music, Whataburger, and Blue Bell ice cream. 

Where football is king, unless your talking about George Strait, y'all is an official pronoun, summers are hot, the women are hotter, tea is sweet and those southern men are sweeter. We love our guns almost as much as we love our country, and we always support our troops. We are damn proud to be Americans, but deep down we know that God blessed Texas with his own hands. 

And we can't help it. Growing up in a state so amazing gives us the right to brag. And even though I will sit here and say Texas forever, I do believe it is important to leave at some point. Even if all it does is confirm your belief that you never want to live anywhere else, leaving the place where the stars at night are big and bright is a vital step to appreciating the land you call home. 

When you do leave, there are a few things you learn about you and your two-stepping compadres back in Texas, and I have compiled this list to teach you a little something about how that goes. 

 You will get asked about Texas. A lot.

"What's it like living somewhere with state pride? Did y'all really think about seceding?" It's fan-freaking-tastic, and no. Unless you ask any adolescent man between the ages of 16-20 in which case they might actually want to secede. "Why is Rick Perry running for President?" I don't know buddy but we don't all claim him. "Is illegal immigration like a really big deal there? Do people wear cowboy hats?" Yes and yes. "Wait, like every day?" You should really try it sometime... 

Texas is just as fascinating to other people as it is to us. They want to know all of the juicy details about living in a place that thinks so highly of itself. And you are happy to tell them.

 You don't realize how much you talk about Texas.

You will find yourself bringing it up a lot. Both intentionally and unintentionally! Sometimes it is just to remind those around you that you are a true Texan, and sometimes it because you are just used to talking about how great your state is. I'm not sure if this applies elsewhere, but back home my friends and I talked about our great state pretty regularly, which is a conversation topic I'm just not willing to let go.

 You will miss so many things about your home state.

Mexican food was to be expected, right? We grew up learning the mantra that Texas has this segment of the restaurant industry locked down. But there are other things you will realize you had been taking for granted. Like Schlitterbahn, seeing the state flag everywhere, boys in starched jeans and cowboy hats, Cane's, honky tonks, HEB and Whataburger. Oh sweet sweet Whataburger. I salute you HBCB....and don't forget to put bacon on your patty melts.

You'll miss the variety. No matter where you are (except maybe the panhandle but no one really counts it anyway), there is a beautiful state park ready for fishing or hiking within a 30 minute drive. Big cities, small towns, open plains, rolling hills, and pinewood forests--Texas has it all. So head on out to Pedernales or Enchanted Rock and drink you a cold Shiner.



 You know more about your state than most other people know about theirs. 

For this point to be made I want you to read a conversation had between myself, and a fellow grad student from Connecticut.

Yankee- Oh gosh...it's one of those annoying mockingbirds. Such a nuisance.

Proud Texan aka Me- *most likely much more abrasively than intended* Hey! Don't be hateful. The mockingbird is the state bird of Texas!

Yankee- Really? Wait why do you know your state bird?

Me- The same reason I know that our state tree is the pecan tree, the state flower is the bluebonnet 

(but don't forget the yellow rose of Texas), and the state reptile is the horny toad. 

Yankee- Oh Gosh.

 You're damn right I know my state bird. 

 You will suddenly be compelled to say "Howdy!" as your primary greeting. 

I'm not sure why...it just happens. 

You are now officially "The Girl from Texas"

Or the guy--whatever! Inevitably a moment will occur when you forget you aren't in Texas, so you don't need to acknowledge that Texas is where you hail from. Or if you're like me...you feel a burning need to inform people you are from Texas, even if they didn't ask. But your peers and friends are always there to remind you that you are different from all of these regular folks ;) It becomes your identifier, and you wear that badge with honor.

All in all, I wouldn't give up my label as a Texan for anything! It brings your pride and some great conversation starters. Watching someone's face light up when you tell them where you are from, and then proceed to dive into a story or memory having to do with Texas is a pretty great feeling.

God bless you Texas! And keep you brave and strong,

That you may grow in power and worth, throughout the ages long.

-L

It's Not You, It's Me

It's a phrase that is so often used to soften the blow of breaking a heart. The cliche is usually taken with a grain of salt, shortly followed by tequila and lime! But despite being over used, it's usually true. When people get dumped they try to figure out what they did wrong, why they weren't enough, etc, when often times it REALLY wasn't you. It was them! But it's so hard to accept that, right?

To accept that, despite your best efforts, your dazzling personality, and stunning good looks, it just didn't work. And you can't control it. I think the reason that hurts so bad, is because you didn't see it coming. So how could you, brilliant and brave and honest, have not seen this coming? What kind of fool have you turned into?

A year ago I was taking back a man that I thought I would end up spending the rest of my life with. Today, I'm "alone", single, whatever you want to call it, but I have never been happier. How is that possible? How could just one year change so many things. About me, about my life...it's mind boggling! 

The last time I wrote I was doing it therapeutically. And now I am writing a resolution to that post.  Writing things down forces you to admit they are true, and it keeps you honest. I was putting the final nail in the metaphorical coffin that was a dear friendship. Because writing it down forced me to realize that it wasn't them, it was me.

Don't get me wrong, they made poor choices. And were careless, and thoughtless in regard to other people's feelings. I am not defending or condoning their actions because what they did, hurt me. Though I would not have done the same in their shoes, I wanted desperately to forgive them, because it would mean finally letting go of all the anger, and all the hurt.

And I tried every day.

I tried to pray about it, but I took nothing to heart. I was so bitter. Searching for an answer, a reason as to why I deserved this. It was all their fault, wasn't it?

It was. I was not at fault, I didn't choose betrayal and I didn't choose disregard for my friendships. But I did choose anger. I chose to make her uncomfortable by hanging around, when it tortured me. I chose bitter. I didn't think it was up to me, but it is always up to me to determine my course of action. My game plan. My recovery. It wasn't my first heartbreak. It wasn't even my worst! So why did it hurt so, so bad?

Writing that last post was like the lightbulb going off, showing me that I was in control.

I no longer looked at old photos with longing, I looked at them with pity. What a shame, to have lost friends over a guy.

I no longer saw his name on my screen and felt butterflies, I felt dissappointment, that he wasn't the man I thought him to be.

I no longer questioned my choice to come to Auburn because I was afraid of leaving them behind, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I am strong enough to do this.

I no longer felt the need to obsess over messages, or voicemails, or stolen glances because I knew that because of what happened to me, I deserved so much better.

How valuable was a friendship that could be so easily stolen?

How honorable was a man who would disregard feelings so easily?

How true were the other, surrounding friendships, if they couldn't stand this trial?

In my eyes, that friendship was no longer valuable. That man was no longer worthy of my love and affection. And those friends, who knew right from wrong? They will always hold a special place in my heart.

In my eyes. In my heart. According to me.

My standards. My affection. My emotion.

Guess what isn't part of the equation?

So I sit here tonight, at what is the happiest, most confident point in my life I can recall to date, saying that I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive the man who I always knew I had met at the wrong time in my life. And I forgive the woman who took advantage of that. I forgive my friends who didn't flip tables in rebellion when they hurt me. I know you are just trying to keep your heads above water, and I can't ask you to defend me. And I forgive myself, for falling so deeply into something I saw coming.

So it might not be today for you. Time heals, and had you asked me a couple months ago I would still be a very bitter woman. But one day, when you are fighting whatever battle it is you are fighting, you will realize, it's you. It has always been you.

And I think, if they were being honest with themselves, and they ever saw me again they would reflect and think,"It wasn't you. It was me."

A Letter to a Former Friend

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

It's been a while since I've had something to write about on my blog. The day after Valentine's day I started a post about the value of friendship, and the wonderful group dynamic I had found in my new friends. 

A lot has changed since then.

Before spring break, I thought the worst form of betrayal was losing the man you love. Turns out it wasn't. I have never felt more hurt than when I found out a woman I considered one of my best friends was now dating that smooth talking cowboy that I hadn't quite gotten over. Maybe it hurt more because I never expected my friend to hurt me that way. As a loyal person, a friend, and even just as another woman, I will never understand that. How could someone who just a few weeks earlier, comforted me as I worried myself sick about why I wasn't enough for him to commit to, turn around and drive that feeling home? Who just a few weeks earlier was into another guy. Who just a few weeks earlier was someone I trusted with the most vulnerable information that I keep close to my heart. We had commiserated about our exes, and how even though we had come so far, we were still damaged. How even though we had gained confidence, we were still learning to love ourselves. 

And now out of nowhere I was crushed. I had worked so hard to love myself, surrounded myself with these people who were supposed to have my best interest at heart, the same way I had theirs. I watched in a 3rd person haze as our group dynamic completely changed the day I found out. I couldn't be brave. I couldn't be strong "for the group". I felt those oh so familiar waves of anxiety coming on, pushing me towards break down. I had to get out of there.

So I did. And for a few weeks I didn't see any of them. People I had become accustomed to seeing three times a week, I barely spoke to.

Even with the support of my best friends, even people I wasn't close to who assured me that it was, "so messed up."  Friends of friends who had shared the story, sending me messages, encouraging me that I was going places in life, and had so much to look forward to. Even then I couldn't ignore the hurt.

Still I dived deeper and deeper into self doubt and inescurity. Reliving every thing I had told her about him. About me. Reliving every moment I spent with him. Every conversation we had. Every late night. Every kiss. Why wasn't I enough? What lesson comes from this pain? I couldnt even bring myself to pray about it because thinking about it that much moved me to tears. I was in this odd balance of not thinking about it, but also being consumed by it. 

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

So, for the sake of consistency, I have chosen a couple months after the initial stab wound, to reopen it just a little, to write this letter to my former friend.

Dear Former Friend,

It should come as no surprise to you that I am writing this, and if it does, well then I guess we weren't as close as I thought. But then again I think that has been established. It hurts me to think about this more so than I wish to admit. Still, months later, the sting of your betrayal buzzes a constant, persistent pain deep in my core. 

I blocked you on Facebook, because one thing I have learned about social media is that by simply clicking a button you can remove a lot of self inflicted pain. And we both know I don't need any more of that. 

In fact, let's take a trip down memory lane, to the days when you would come into the office, and sit with me for hours, getting to know me. Advising me. Comforting me. Remember how open I was? How honest? How I told you of the perils of my ex, heart on my sleeve, almost in tears. How we laughed about that smooth talking cowboy who came to the office to "chat" just a little too often. How excited I was to tell you that I loved being around him...but no no I'm not falling for him. How you looked at me with cautious eyes when I told you about our late night conversations, and his ability to make me forget about the world around me. But don't worry, I promise I'm not falling for him...just having fun. 

You told me about your ex. We commiserated, talking at length about how men can cause us so much heartache. You helped me grow in my faith, constantly assuring me that God was taking care of me and that I just needed to pray about it.

I told you about cutting myself when my ex left me for the first time, and how somewhere in my mind I knew that would never leave me. That I saw it as a failure. But, look at us! We had made so much progress. And we are beautiful, smart young women, who don't need a man's attention. Except that I started to. And you watched it happen. The casual mention turned into a regular occurrence. I didn't just say his name in passing, but I started to talk about him all the time, this smooth talking cowboy. And I was going crazy trying to figure him out and play the game but no, never fall for him. And you hated him. You spoke of how much you disliked the way he treated me. And how he just "rubbed you the wrong way." I tried fervently to explain to you the side other people didn't see. The laughter behind his eyes. The tender in his touch. How I wish I could go back in time. 

We laughed about my late nights. We danced, we drank, we became best friends. And when things started falling apart you spoke words of kindness and assurance. That I was wonderful, and he was an idiot for not seeing it. That I shouldn't concern myself with someone who isn't willing to commit to me. You dried my tears, and calmed my anxiety as my feelings of insufficiency crept back in. 

And then I sensed a shift. In the way you spoke to me. And the way he spoke to you. At first I thought it was all in my head, but then I was almost certain that my worst nightmare was coming true. And it did. When you told me, eyes on the ground, that the two of you were dating, it was quite possibly the single most painful sentence I have ever had to hear. Because we both knew, me with my numbed silence, and you with your shameful stare, that I had fallen for him. Despite my best efforts, we both knew that I was in love with him. 

It's true, for weeks I had been trying to move back to being just friends with him...God what a cliche. But I think most people would agree that does not excuse your actions. I try every day to forgive you, but I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm sure you are glad that I am gone and left east Texas so you can pursue a life with a man who exemplifies the majority of the qualities you have been telling me for the last 8 months that you don't like in a man. But I guess getting attention changed your mind. Settling works for some people. 

I have tried every day to forget. But I can't. I sit here in my new apartment shaking because this situation makes me so upset. Not even just because I lost a man that I never really had, but because I
lost my friends. Your actions changed the entire group dynamic because guess what? They all knew how much you hurt me. I tried to act like nothing had changed but how could I when everything had so obviously changed? Just a few weeks earlier you were crushing on a different man in our group of 

friends. Just a couple weeks earlier I had broken the new "just friends" rule I had laid down for myself. And you knew about it.

How could I act the same when every time I was around the two of you, you threw yourself on him like a high schooler with her first boyfriend? Never leaving his side, touching him constantly, shooting me dirty looks when I walked up. I'm glad you weren't worried about throwing it in my face. I watched in horror all the while keeping a smile on my face. I knew I made you so uncomfortable, and quite frankly, I should. 

I know nothing I say will make you believe what you did was wrong, because as the strong Christian woman I took you to be, I know you would never do anything you thought to be morally wrong. Besides, "Your girlfriends come first." Right? 

This will probably be the last thing I ever say to you, if you ever read it, so I want to leave you with this. Despite my bitterness towards you, I hope that the two of you stay together. Forever. And get married happily in love. Because the only thing that made me keep my head above water was telling myself that everything happens for a reason, and maybe my role in your lives was to bring the two of you together. Because you were soulmates. 

That being said, you better hope he keeps you warm at night, because you are a cold bitch. 

Sincerely,

A woman betrayed.

I'm not the type of person to feel sorry for myself, but even I can't deny that I have had some horrible luck in the area of relationships this year. I also recognize that it isn't fair to hold this much anger towards my former friend, when it takes two to tango, and that cowboy pursued her. However, I think that as women that is just something we can't control. She will always take the blame in my eyes. But aside from relationships? My last year at SFA was awesome.

I was so focused on everything wrong with me, it was so hard to see what was right. I came out of heart break and grew more as a person than ever before. I reached my goal GPA and graduated with honors from a university that I love whole heartedly. I got into my dream grad school program at AUBURN FREAKING UNIVERSITY, with tuition waived and a paid assistantship. I made tons of new friends. I put myself out there despite my fear of failure. I got to finally experience being a teacher and am completely in love with it. I have gotten stronger physically, and am taking so much better care of myself! I got a dog, finally tried dying my hair red, learned the guitar, and danced more than I ever have before.

So why is it so hard to look in the mirror and see the whole picture?

Why do I only see the girl whose friend didn't think twice about hurting her. The girl who lost herself
 once again chasing a boy. The girl who has panic attacks, and cellulite, and a fear of never finding someone to love. 

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

That is a quote from a woman in a video I watched not too far back, and it has brought me quite a bit of  comfort. It reminds me that every day is a new day to learn to love yourself a little more. Because it does take practice and intention, and it definitely doesn't allow you to wallow in the pool of your own doubt and insecurity.

This too shall pass. 9 months ago I was completely broken at the hands of a man. 9 months from now I will no longer wake up every morning thinking about how much I miss the friendship of a man I should have never fallen for. And how he didn't choose me.

I will wake up reminding myself that we all face harsh battles, and we bare scars as witness to our wounds. For me they are literal and figurative. But it is those same scars, those same wounds, that make us uniquely, genuinly, tragically, and magnificently ourselves.

And there is no one else I would rather be. 

Reflection on a Resolution

If you couldn't tell, I was in a bad place over winter break. Doctors say that they treat more people for depression and anxiety in the months of December through February than any other time of the year. Whether that is because of the consumerism driven holidays that make us feel alone, coming off of the high of such an exciting time of year, or because the weather is shitty, I don't know. 

But I do know it sucked. 

The remnants of the depression I was dealing with are still here, however I did make some really good decisions while I was in the trenches. 

I stopped chasing the cowboy. I knew in my heart from the start that it wasn't going to happen, so I finally let the hurt pour out of me in the form of sobs, and let the healing pour into me (quite literally) in the form of cocktails with my mother. 

I admitted that I was still hurt from my ex. The one I wrote the letter to. Last night a friend told me "It's only been six months Lizzie, that's not that long. And he was a pretty horrible person to you."

I reminded myself that time is not equated to feelings. (Thanks you Meagan Meyers for that wisdom nugget. It has gotten me through many a rough night!)

I let myself feel like shit. No more brave face. I had about two weeks of just full on vegetative state. Not physically, but mentally. It started the day after my birthday, the 31st. I had been going back and forth about what to do for New Years, when I said screw men and the problems they cause, and drove up to Nac to surprise Blanca, who was stuck here working. I took one of my best friends from high school with me, my hair in a pony tail, no make up, over-sized tee and jacket, and celebrated with great people. We drank a couple cold ones at my old bosses house, watched fireworks, and sat around a fire. 

That night I didn't force myself to be the life of the party. I didn't make a point to tell jokes, or play games, or start conversations like I normally do. I just existed. And I watched everything going on around me with a weird sense of calm. 

The night winded down, I headed back to my apartment, had just sat down in my big leather chair and was checking Facebook when it happened.

A name popped up in my messenger.

It was him. The ex.

Heart in throat. Isn't he still with her? Why is he messaging me? We don't speak to each other.

My first thought "Well. He learned his lesson about texting girls he shouldn't be, so he has started using FB messenger. Clever boy."

1 AM, January 1st, 2015.

"Hey, I was just sitting here watching Bill Burr and it made me think of you."

Oh did it? That's sweet. Referencing something we used to watch together. What are you doing? Trying to get back on good terms? Making sure I don't have a nice relaxing New Years? Shouldn't you be kissing someone right now? 

Bill Burr? That's what made you think of me? God how unromantic. I think of you every time I look at my cross tattoo. Every time I put on jeans that are a little too tight. Anytime I hear Toby Keith. Every time I wake up after dreaming about you, in that fuzzy morning stage when I think you still might be there to hold me when I roll over. Every time I shower and think about when I cut myself. Every time anyone mentions fishing. Or I drive by that laundromat. Or see the cute pajama outfit I bought just for you that is now shoved in the back of my closet. Or put on what were your favorite pair of heels for me to wear. So don't come at me with this pathetic Bill Burr shit. 

"I just wanted to say that I hope everything is going well for you."

Well it's not. Does that make you feel better? Life sucks right now. Do you really hope that? Because I hope you wake up every day and regret the way you treated me. But maybe I'm just bitter. Oh I am probably going to Auburn though. So that's nice.

"You were really such a big part of my life, and you taught me so much about love, and about myself."

Oh was I? You could have fooled me with all the girls you have gone through since you left me. Hopefully I taught you important things like, not to make your girlfriends feel like they aren't enough....not to project your insecurities onto them until they hate themselves....to appreciate the things they do for you...From the Facebook posts you have been posting about her, I think the last one might have at least gotten through.

Did I teach you that you were going through life unhappy because it's easier to be unhappy and get what you want than to actually work towards improving yourself and maybe face failure? No? Oh. Darn. 

"Anyway, I just wanted to say that. I'll see you in a few weeks."

I paused for what seemed like eternity, re-reading the message over and over, before showing it to my friend. She laughed and said "Yeah uh huh. His ass is trying to get back in good graces to make himself feel better. Joke. He does not get to do that to you."

Of course I didn't respond with any of those things I just wrote. In fact I wasn't sure if I should even respond. I ended up saying,

"You too __________. Actually, no, things aren't going well. You screwed me up in a lot of ways. I have been thinking about seeing a counselor. And you actually won't see me in a few weeks, because I am student teaching this semester. So that was goodbye."

I followed that up with a text that said, "You don't get to do that." just to make sure he got the message.

He read the message, but I never heard back from him. That's okay because I wasn't trying to open up a dialogue, I was trying to end one before it started. As I sat there wondering what on earth possessed him to message me, and why he was thinking about me on New Year's Eve, I promised myself that I had to get better.

None of this lose ten pounds, or spend less money resolution b.s. I had to get back to me. So I spent the next several weeks doing just that. I went out when I wanted to, and binged on Netflix and Oreos when I wanted too. I cooked more at home. Spent more time alone. I started student teaching. I got a dog (good lord the struggle is real). 

I started to realize that the things I was chastising myself for, like going out all the time to avoid feelings, constantly needing company to avoid myself, etc, are things that are simply part of me. Yes, I had taken them to a whole new level last semester, but I'm just the type of girl who likes to have fun.

Not trashy, dangerous fun. That gives me anxiety. But the type of girl who wants to hear all about her friends boyfriend problems over margaritas on a Monday. The type of girl who loves to smile and laugh and dance the night away in the arms of good looking cowboys. The girl who loves to drink wine and watch stand up with her best friends. The type of girl who likes to back road and listen to Texas country when the party scene gets too loud. Or play guitar and write songs when there are too many things for me to feel.

I have stopped focusing on everything I have done wrong, and started focusing on the things I have done right. Taking care of my pets, although trivial to some, makes me so happy. Teaching high school kids about artificial insemination, although gross to some, lights up my day. Having friends who are going to hate to see me leave if I go to Auburn, overwhelms me with love. Making plans to road trip for two weeks this summer with Blanca and Sunshine excites me. Knowing that I put my heart out there after it had been broken, even if only to be rejected again, reminds me that I am a loving and hopeful person. I refuse to become hardened and bitter.

There are still battles to come, and hardships to face. I long for the day that I don't worry, or regret, or fret about a single thing. But in the mean time I am enjoying the days that get awfully close. Where I only think of him once. Or remember poor decisions for just a fleeting moment. 

Even though my friends and I joke that life's a bitch and then you die, the good days make all of those bad ones worth it. You have to go through moments like I did over the break to recognize that moments like this...

Are ones worth fighting for.

-L

When Anxiety Crosses The Line

A young preteen is in the car with her mom on the way to her regular gymnastics practice, and it takes everything inside of her to stop the tears from pouring out, get out of the car, and walk into the gym. With knots in her stomach so tight she thinks she might be sick, she pushes her way through the doors. You are better than this. A few weeks later she quits. 

A high school sophomore on the JV basketball team clutches her knees to her chest as her mother enters the room and sees her daughter, sitting on her bed, tears running down her face. "Baby, what's wrong?" "My leg hurts momma," She says between caught breaths, "I can't go to practice today, I just can't. It hurts, and I hate running, and I'm not good enough." "Okay sweetie, it's okay, we'll go to the doctor today, okay?"

18 years old and weeks away from graduation, the President of her school FFA chapter sits in a chair at home, with her retiring address speech grasped tightly in her hands, crumpled. She rocks back and forth while making any attempt to catch her breath, sobbing, while her parents stand in the room watching helplessly. 

A third year college student slides down the door, hitting the bathroom floor, head between her knees, crying uncontrollably, unable to breathe, while the man who just broke her heart sits in front of her, shakes his head and says, "Baby....please...stop...I had no idea you cared this much about me."

These four girls all have one thing in common. 

They are all me. 

They are all me, in each of the moments I distinctly remember that my anxiety won. 

I am the happy girl. The girl who has it all together. Or at least that's what I make them think. I am constantly in a good mood because I don't see any reason to make other people feel bad just because I feel bad. So I slap on the smile. I do the song and dance. I push to be the best at whatever the task at hand is. I'm busy, and I thrive on it. I don't have time to stop because if I stop, it catches up to me. And by it, I mean my anxiety.

Usually I can control it, and I don't consider myself an unhappy person. The only things that give me away are the nubs I call my bitten fingernails, and a leg that shakes. Usually my anxiety doesn't interfere with my social life. But as long as I can remember it has been there. 

My constant companion.

Anxiety is different from other mental illnesses because it can show itself in many different forms. My anxiety's favorite forms are waves of depression and melancholy, and a very defensive nature about touchy subjects. For as long as far back as I can see.

As an average high school basketball player, my need to be the best ate at me every single day. Before school, after school, and Saturday practices. Other girls were faster, stronger, better. I was so determined to prove myself worthy of being on the team that I played the entire pre-season on a really bad stress fracture in my tibia that the doctor said, "I shouldn't even be walking on without pain." Even typing that sentence makes me feel like I am making excuses, and I'm better than that. So, after going to the doctor and missing district play, I quit. For the first time in my life I accepted that I wasn't good enough, and became more involved in the National FFA Organization.

Which I excelled at. My desire to be the best guided me through the club with very little issue. I became a good speaker, learned how to make people like me, put my head down and piled on the work. Before long I was chapter President, and excelling at everything I tried. When I knew the end of my high school FFA career was approaching I made myself sick to my stomach day after day worrying about it. I had created a bubble where I was one of, if not the best at what I was doing in my chapter. I was popular in the ag circle, admired by underclassmen, appreciated by my mentors, and at home in my surroundings. Until I couldn't be anymore. 

Until life happened, and I had to leave, and prove myself all over again.

Which I successfully did in about two years. For lack of a better phrase, I was making college my bitch. And then he came into the picture. He claimed I was everything he wanted--driven, independent, well dressed and well respected. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I fell in love, hopelessly devoted. And then in the blink of an eye it was crumbling in front of me. He left me in Nacogdoches to go visit his ex girlfriend's mom in the hospital, in the middle of our biggest fight. When I surprised him on Christmas day, he embraced me with open loving arms. Until discussion rolled around and he responded by telling me he loved me, he just didn't want to be with me. 

So I broke down because I wasn't enough, but this time it wasn't just my athletic ability, which I could blame on genetics and mother nature. 

It was just me. Vulnerable, honest, and broken.

And boy did it break me.

If you have never experienced a panic attack it is a difficult thing to describe. Both of mine have felt like I had bricks on my chest while I was crying, but the more I tried to catch my breath, the more the tears came out and the harder it was. My heart was racing and felt like it was in between my eyes. My mind wasn't just focused on being upset, or what caused the explosion, it was running 100 miles a minute while I hyperventilated, reliving every moment of anxiety in the last day, week, year....the time period changes. My vision got blurry and at several moments I remember thinking, and kind of wishing, I would just pass out. 

And then the storm clouds dissipated. My heart rate slowed, my breathing regained normal rhythm, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

My entire life I have suffered from being a "perfectionist." I say suffered, but perfectionism hasn't caused me pain, anxiety has. Perfectionism has blessed me with good grades, a friendly and like-able nature, and a love of busy schedules and challenge. Anxiety on the other hand, has done me no favors. 

It has made athletics something I began to dread in 4th grade after realizing I wouldn't be the best. It made me quit playing the cello after junior high because I was so afraid I wouldn't have been good enough in high school. I quit gymnastics because the thought of doing it competitively made me want to cry. It made me back out of performing a cello solo at a choir concert because I didn't want to fail in front of that many people.

It makes me avoid group workout classes, and turn down numerous offers to go jogging with friends because, what if I'm not as good as them? It has caused stomach knots, and skin conditions. Tears shed and burned bridges. But by far the most pain it has caused me have been in affairs of the heart. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Anxiety takes all of those normal relationship fears and amplifies them. Combine that with an already insecure man and boy are you in for a tragic show.

Lying there broken on the bathroom floor while he stood over me was probably the third lowest point I have ever reached in my life. The second lowest was a couple weeks later when I began to cut my shoulder in the shower because it stopped me from crying. And the lowest point was after I took him back, because then I had lost myself entirely. I gave up time with friends, going out, arguments, and any ounce of confidence or dignity I had left. But it was okay, because he loved me. I was being who he said he wanted. All three of my life's lowest points have happened this year.

I wish I had known then, that anyone who made me feel that low, could never reciprocate the kind of love I wanted forever. The kind I deserve.

But we accept the love we think we deserve, right? And the second time around I wasn't over ll of the things I hated about myself.

Ever since my ex and  I broke up for the first time I have been changed. I think I always will be. But this change, for now, is not the change that helped me grow. It tore me down. After dating him the second time? I was done for. As weeks passed by the strain of everyday was more and more noticeable. 

But I am the happy girl.

I started avoiding going home because when I got home all I wanted was sleep. I would stay at the ag building or at friends houses looking for things to do, working on assignments until 7, 8, sometimes 9 pm. At the end of everyday I was exhausted from putting on the show that had become my life. At least 5 days a week, I went out. To eat, for drinks, to dance, to party, It didn't matter. As long as I didn't stop. I stopped eating, not to lose weight but because I didn't have an appetite. And the worst part was that I hated myself for not being able to correct whatever this problem was. But I didn't stop.

Constant Interaction = Constant Distraction

But I am the happy girl.

I came home for break and, with no distractions at my disposal for every hour of the day, the anxiety intensified. Reliving moments with my ex. Analyzing every word I said or action I made with the charmer I fell for after him. Things that happened in September keeping me awake at night. My stomach in knots and my attitude defensive. Obsessively checking Facebook to see if either of them have posted anything new. 

My mind is still racing, and I don't know how to make it stop. Which is why I need help.

Before this a handful of people knew about the cutting. God that sounds embarrassing doesn't it? Cutting...like a teen who just bought her first gauge earrings from hot topic. I only did it for a brief period of time. A few weeks max. But those cuts ran deep. I never dealt with the demons I was left with after the night in that bathroom. 

I still can't sleep and a lot of times still don't want to eat. However, the first step to correcting a problem is admitting you have one. And although I have always known about my anxiety, I have never reached out for help with it.

Because I am the happy girl.

I have felt like I was on the verge of panic attack for the last five days. A few nights ago I made the decision to see a counselor when I go back to school.

I am surrounded by people who love and support me. It's okay to be mad or depressed. It's not okay to repress and ignore it to the point of panic attack just because I am the happy girl. 

So to every happy girl out there who expresses her deepest fears and feelings through thoughtful Pinterest quotes, I understand. From one happy girl to another I know what you are going through and I want you to know that it is okay to not be happy. 

Find your people. The ones you don't have to try for. The only people I can go numb around are those closest to me.  The people I don't have to be "on" for. Find those people in your life and hang on to them tightly, for they are an escape. An escape from your own mind. An escape from your constant companion.

It does not define you. It will not break you. 

You are not broken.

You will be happy. 

You will be loved.

You are enough.

-L