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. 

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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

A Wake Up Call

You know how I said I don't have bad days anymore? Just moments? Well I think I jinxed myself.

As I sit here on the verge of tears, while attempting to write a 10 page paper comparing the feed and nutrition requirements of  market sheep and goats (ag major probs), I can't help but wonder how I got myself here, into this position, again. Was it:

A) The fact that I let myself believe love should have second chances?

B) Because for once in my life I threw caution into the wind and started to fall for a not-my-type, smooth talking cowboy, hoping that those feelings would replace heart ache?

C) Because I am struggling with the guilt that comes along with making poor decisions?

D) Fear of change, and failure, as I prepare to leave what has become my home?

E) All of the above?

If you are a fellow college student dealing with dead week and finals then I hope the irony of the multiple choice is not lost on you! And maybe that is just it. The overwhelming conclusion to and overwhelming semester of an overwhelming year with some underwhelming let downs but also some incredibly overwhelming opportunities. Maybe the frontal lobe of my brain is just screwing with me.

Or maybe it's a wake-up call.

Maybe sitting in this cold computer lab with feeble attempts to distract myself from the wave of anxiety that has been rolling over me for the last three weeks is exactly where I should be when I realize that I have got to stop myself from coming undone.

I can't ignore the signs. I have been tired, sick, and frankly just in a shitty mood. My skin is broken out, I've had a bad eczema flare up that hasn't shown itself since high school, and I have been biting my nails until they bleed. This isn't me.

Tomorrow I see my parents, take the GRE, get my class ring, and turn in what are my last assignments as a student at SFA before moving on to student teaching next semester. I should be rejoicing but I can't help but feel hollow. I can feel myself drawing back into that girl I was 10 months ago, the first time my ex and I broke up. Has it been ten months? It seems like just yesterday.

The strain of putting on my happy face is becoming apparent when I look at myself in the mirror. For the first time in a long time I see my reflection and like what I see. But, for the first time in a long time when I look inside myself, I don't.

This isn't a cry for help. It's a come to Jesus with myself. I'm not falling off a cliff, I sitting on it under a shade tree with a margarita in hand. So this is what I have to say to myself, that girl ten months ago who thought she had nowhere to go. That girl who I apparently never dealt with properly, who has chosen to rear her tear stained, mascara running face again these last few weeks.

1. Stop making excuses for other people, specifically men:

You have never made excuses for yourself. You always take the blame. In fact you take it too much. Let other people take the blame. No, it's not okay to think that he didn't mean it when he said that he hated people like you because you don't have to study. He did mean it. He wasn't just tired, or insecure. He's an asshole.

It's not okay to think that this new guy really does like you, but just isn't looking for the type of girl you are right now. He just wasn't ready to meet you yet. The marrying kind. The complicated kind. Whether he likes you or not is irrelevant. You are torturing yourself trying to figure out what to say or do to make him want you. And if he doesn't recognize that he should have snatched you up the moment he met you? Too bad so sad.

2. Let yourself miss him:

You don't have to be the girl everyone knows you are. The strong girl who is independent and smart and challenging with a spitfire humor. Not right now. It's okay to be the girl that rolls hers eyes when people mention his name. Or the girl who stops in her tracks when you see him holding hands with someone new. I know he built up this world where you and perfection were synonymous, but you aren't perfect. It's okay to be human.

I know you had this epiphany when he messaged you a few weeks ago. Where you could honestly say you didn't care what he thought said or did. Wasn't that feeling amazing and refreshing and enlightening?! Your fatal error was thinking that this one moment of clarity meant you were completely over him. It was a beautiful but brief glimpse into the bright future that lies ahead of you! Remember that feeling and hold onto it because one day that will be how you feel all the time. Whatever you do though, do not forget the pain he caused you.

3. Don't blame yourself:

Yeah I know I just said you aren't perfect. You aren't! But you ARE worth it. Worth those grades. Worth texting back. Worth another dance. Worth that grad school offer. Worth that scholarship. Worth being taken out on a date. Worth being told that you are beautiful and crazy and they wouldn't have it any other way. Worth being missed. Worth being loved.

Smooth talker couldn't take a little heat? Then he doesn't get to be in your kitchen. (That's what she said). You will not be forgotten by those who know you and love you. You are not forgotten. You have done nothing wrong. Okay maybe you have done some things wrong. But that doesn't mean you have to keep reliving those moments and beating yourself up about them. If you want to text him, text him! If you want to ignore the crap out of him, ignore him! But let yourself feel and then forgive yourself. Don't be a broken record of self depreciation.

4. It's okay that she doesn't like you:

I know you're trying. You're friendly! And outgoing! You aren't a threat to her! You know that, but she doesn't. What if you were in her place? Better yet, you WERE in her place. It's okay that she points you out to her friends at the bar and whispers. You're the ex. You're that one she has probably asked about and he probably dismissed with a very charming and vague response.

You aren't mad at her. Hell you always thought she seemed really sweet. It is engrained in female brains to dislike exes the same way it is engrained to dislike the new girl. Because what if they had something I don't? Something that he misses? Her friends wouldn't be good friends if they didn't automatically raise their eyebrows at you. Think about your own experiences.

5. Your worth does not lie in others:

This is something you have struggled with your entire life. In high school, it was your ag teacher. In college you have made a lot of progress, but have still managed to find mentors that you use to validate your worth. And then you were doing really well. You didn't need validation. Until men came into the picture. And now you are one of those girls. The girls who put their self worth in the hands of men.

And why would you do that?

Why?

The only men who should ever affect your self worth are your dad, your brother, and God. Your worth lies deep in your heart, in that small space right behind your insecurities. In that part of your soul hidden by your scars with a light so bright that others can't help but be caught up in it. In that part of your mind where you question and challenge and push because that is who you are. Of course it's behind all of the crappy stuff. You have to take risks to reach it. That's why it is hidden by the stuff that makes you cry and scream and go numb. Because only by getting through those things can you realize that you are enough.

And darling you are more than enough.



This is not over. And who knows how much time will pass before it will be. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up with a new sense of confidence. Maybe writing this all down was the end of what has, in the last three weeks, become a fast and slippery slope. The feeling of helplessness will probably come back at some point but it will not define me. It shouldn't define anyone.

One thing that I always told my ex was that everyone deserves to be happy, a sentiment he could never really wrap his mind around. Now I make exceptions for murderers and rapists, but other than that I believe people are inherently good and therefore deserve happiness. That's why I want to be a teacher. To help others find their happiness. To find their light.

My light is the quick wit I posses in friendly conversation. My light is the ability to make others laugh, and the ability to laugh at myself. My light is my heart, warm and welcoming to pretty much everyone I meet. My light is my obliviousness to the advances of men, and the sparkle in my eye when I realize they are flirting with me! My light is my academic drive and integrity. My light is the ability to speak in front of groups both large and small. My light is the smile on my face when I am out dancing. My light is hugs and well wishes. My light is accessorizing and getting dolled up for no one but myself! My light is going out for drinks with the girls. My light is what makes me fearfully and wonderfully made.

 

I have found my light, I just have to dig for it and dust it off sometimes, and remind myself that other people see it too.

-L





10 Things You Should Say to Your Best Friends Right Now

 

Everyone has that select group of girls that they rely on most to make it through life. From everyday struggles like putting on liquid eyeliner, to the bigger things like relationships and school, your girlfriends are your go to. They understand how hard it is to force yourself to wake up earlier just to shave your legs, and they don't judge you if you chose sleep instead. Like Meredeth and Christina, we all have "our person" and if we are lucky, we have a few of them!

They are the girls that your significant other knows simply come as a package deal. They are the the ones who will listen to you sob while drinking straight from a bottle of wine, with Adele playing in the background. They hold your hair. They do your makeup. They tell you when you are a hot mess. They are an extension of who you are.

You begin to form your own language of sarcasm, knowing looks, and odd noises that somehow come together to create perfect communication. You create nicknames for people around you. Your world is sacred and others just simply don't understand.

So here are a few things you need to say to your best friends...like right now!

1. I love you more than a fat kid loves cake.

Unless the cake is really good and I was really hungry. But most of the time, yeah-- I would choose you over cake. I love you because you understand my need to binge on Netflix and Megastuffed Oreos. You know about my odd obsession with Mama Mia and choose to spend time with me anyway. You also know that if I'm still alone at 40 I'm coming to live with you. Hope your hubs has the spare room ready. I love you because you bring out the best in me. Except that one time at Delta Chi, but we don't speak of that. I also love you because you guard my secrets like they are your own. (Right? Okay good.)

2. I also hate you a little though.

As my best friend I hate you sometimes. Like when you cancel plans. Or when you don't answer my snapchat that was super witty. Mostly because even though you bring out the best in me, you have also seen me at my worst, which is something I struggle with. It gives me anxiety that another human knows about my deepest fears, and my worst decisions. You know me better than I know myself, and because of this, you call me on my bullshit all the time.

3. Thank you for calling me on my bullshit.

Thank you for your ability to recognize that I am simply projecting my anxiety about my ex onto a new man. Thank you for telling me that I am using said man to distract myself and push my fears about graduating aside. Only a best friend can listen to you complain, on the verge of mental breakdown, and analyze what you said, and tell you what you are really thinking. It's a rare gift and you should appreciate it.

4. I can always count on your for a good laugh.

"That's what she said"s are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to our jokes.  Inappropriate? Yes. Necessary? I think yes again. I can always count on you to have a funny text, or stupid grin on your face when I need it most. On those days that I can't remember what it is like to be happy, you come waltzing in with white zinfandel and Iliza Schlesinger quotes and turn my mood around completely. It's a miraculous thing.

5. If you need to murder ANYONE...I've got you.

Remember that time we ate dinner, drank margaritas, and created a detailed plan in case either one of us needed to commit a murder? I mean down to the nitty gritty things, like what music we would play in the background, and what actresses would play us when they created a  movie about it. Mary Anne and Wanda style. Thelma and Louise. Bring it on world--bad bitches coming through. *cue music*

6. Thanks for keeping the not-so-important promises.

Any friend can keep a promise that is important. Like, don't tell that boy I think he's cute. Or, promise you'll get coffee with me Friday. But only a best friend remembers the little things. Like the fact that they promised if they saw your ex while driving they would flip him off. Sure it sounds great, but your best friend will follow through with it, and make sure to tell you about it as soon as they see you because they know it will make you laugh.

7. I would totally switch teams for you. 

(Okay not really, but think about how much easier life would be)

Really...we just get each other <3

8. Thank you for handling my mental breakdowns.

Like that time we were at the bar and the guy I was into was ignoring me...you came with me to get some air, took my face in your hands and said, "You don't need him. You are beautiful. You don't see the heads you turn but I do. And I'm not just saying this because I am your best friend. I'm saying it because you are oblivious to the fact that you are a head turner." Or some scenario pretty similar to that.

9. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry we lost touch for a while. I'm sorry I wasn't more understanding when you got back together with the guy who cheated on you (man that bit me in the ass huh?) I'm sorry I didn't tell you about *insert personal story here* sooner. I'm sorry about that time you were struggling with depression and I pushed you away because I wasn't strong enough to keep both of us above the water. I'm sorry I stole your hair tie and never gave it back. You have to love me anyway.

10. I will never forget you.

Even if we haven't spoken in years (which is NOT going to happen) and have families and grown-up jobs, I will never forget the time we had together. Time spent crying, laughing, singing, dancing...not one minute of it will be lost on me! Countless hours getting ready to go out. Sitting at bars hoping to get asked to dance. Walking to class. Lunch dates. Birthdays. Boyfriends that were jerks, and the ones that are here to stay. Every memory we shared and are still sharing together is one that will be forever tattooed on my heart. You were there through all of those years that have had such a huge impact on the woman I am today. You helped shape me. And I will never forget that.

*hugs*

 Love you guys. Here's to the rest of our lives!

-L

A Letter to the Man Who Broke My Heart...Twice.

I have debated back and forth about posting this for several days now. I don't want people to think I am airing my dirty laundry, but I also think that this would be a good thing for me. And maybe for women experiencing similar things. 

I recently had a conversation with a new friend about men, heartbreak, and the pain that comes along with it. I had been thinking about writing this post for a while now, but our conversation spurred me along a little because I realized that the one thing everyone who is heartbroken has in common is this:

They all feel like they are the tragic exception. That no one has ever felt this way and come out alive. That their love was different, and no one can understand their suffering. They feel completely alone. 

I've been there. Felt that. Gone numb. Cried about it. 
Over the same man. TWICE. And guess what? 

I'm still living. Not just alive, but living.

It has taken me a little while to reach a point where I could actually sit down and write this. In fact, I think this is the perfect time. The wounds aren't fresh, but I can still feel them beneath the surface. I have moved on, but definitely have not forgotten. If you know me, you know I like self reflection, and I feel that now is a good time to reflect on this, one of the most enlightening, terrifying, testing, humiliating, and rewarding things I have ever experienced: falling in love with someone who wasn't "the one." 

So, this one goes out to all the broken-hearted (is that a song? If not it should be). Buckle up, it's a long one. And when in doubt...I'm being facetious. 

Dear Man Who Broke My Heart...Twice,

               How are you doing? Actually you don't need to answer that. Because even though I un-friended you on Facebook like the completely mature adult I am (lol), I can still see what you are tagged in. And I'm not going to pretend that I don't still stalk you sometimes. It's a weird complex where if my day is too good, I need to make myself feel worse. I know that you didn't place as well as you wanted in that last fishing tournament. I also know that you don't fish as well in the Fall, so you'll pick yourself back up come spring time. I know that because I genuinely took interest in the things you love. Like bass fishing. I loved zooming across the lake in your brand new bass cat that daddy bought for you. I loved seeing beautiful new places and waking up before dawn to get out on the water. Mostly because I loved the way your eyes shined when you were reeling in anything over 5. Like the way they used to shine when you looked at me. 

               Thank you, by the way, for teaching me about bass fishing. I can now hold a conversation with attractive men about crank bates, brush piles, and football jigs. It helped me on my content exam, plus I can whip out that photo of me with the 7.6 pounder I caught on Lake Nac with you. Which I definitely have done. On multiple occasions. 

               Thank you for reinforcing my belief that when someone becomes overly accusatory about something toward their partner, it is because they are feeling guilty about that same thing. The next man that gets angry at me for checking my phone, or is hyper sensitive about my contact with other males? He won't last long. Being apathetic towards me? You fed me those lines about not knowing what to do with your life and I soaked it up like a love desperate sponge, holding you, continuing to love you, telling you that it would all be okay. Next time, tell her not to tag you in Facebook posts. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't think I'm the best thing that has ever happened to them.

               Now I know it wasn't all bad. You were a hopeless romantic, just like me! You bought me flowers! And you drove to Nac to see me! And all of those meals you paid for and gas you spent almost make up for the fact that I now have a complex about my pants being too tight, my belly button ring looking like "metal lint" and my tattoos being trashy. Oh but thank God you told me you "overlooked the tattoos." I don't know if I could have ever afforded to get them removed. Remember when I drove on Christmas night to come see you, as a surprise, so you wouldn't be alone? I left my family at 6pm drove three hours and showed up at your door, dressed to the nines, present in hand. Or that time I had to tell all of my family that you had to work during the Lewis Christmas party, when really you just didn't want to come? After telling me for months that you would? Nothing says commitment like a family Christmas party...so it's best that you just avoid that all together, even if it does permanent damage to the girls' ability to trust. Okay okay, I'm getting off topic again. There were some good parts about our relationship.

               You were an artist with words and I will never forget the feeling it gave me when you looked at me, said I was beautiful, and wanted me for the rest of your life. That feeling? It's incomparable to anything else in this world. I remember when I went to dinner with you and your coworkers. Everyone gave us compliments about being the best dressed couple, and the old lady hit on you all night. Then, afterwards, we got Starbucks and looked at Christmas lights. The simple joy of running into you unexpectedly on campus. The feeling of your hand in mine. After our first kiss, when I ran face first into my front door. Not being able to sleep because I was so excited to see you the next day. Goosebumps when you kissed me. Stolen glances across the room. Wanting to leave a party just so the two of us could be alone. I would kill to have those things back. Those were real.

               But, so was the fact that you hated every single one of my friends. Except Sunshine. Because she had literally said 6 words to you in the span of a year. So were the texts. To your ex. Saying you loved her. So were the nights I spent crying in my shower because it was the only place my roommates couldn't hear me. So was the time you told me my cutoffs were about two sizes too small. So were the times that I would be dressed to go out, and you would tell me I looked great--but follow it with "But you already knew that." So were the times you looked at the make-up on my face and said "What is all of that shit?" Or when you said you resented me for being smart. And the time that was most real? When you told me the only reason I liked writing was because someone told me I was good at it. Yeah...you're right. And the only reason I didn't think the things you said were tearing me down? I just kept telling myself it was okay. You were just projecting your own insecurities on me. I was strong and confident, they weren't really getting to me or hurting me, and you didn't really want them to...did you?

               I like to think that you didn't. I like to think that you think of me and regret your decision to walk away. In the words of T-Swift all you had to do was stay! I like to think that you are dumbfounded because for once, a girl that you broke down didn't stay in touch with you....begging for your attention. I like to think that you see me in front of you, in class, and wonder if I am really as happy as I appear to be. Rest assured, I'm not. But I am happy. I no longer have bad days, but I have bad moments. Like the Chris Young concert. When you showed up with her. Damn that was rough. But I reveled in the fact that I was the one in the pit, touching his hand, surrounded by people who love me, and held my hands when he played "Tomorrow." I like to think, that one day 6 years from now, we will run into each other at a cafe, both leading separate lives, and be able to catch up. I'd like to think that. 

               Please know, as therapeutic as this was, this letter was not meant as an attack on you. I believe in my heart that when you find the right woman, who maybe isn't quite so strong willed as I am, y'all will live happily ever after. This wasn't to only point out the things that were wrong about us. It was to remind myself that it's okay to miss you. It's okay to think of you. But it is not okay to forget the damage you caused me, for my own sake. And I know that every girl out there who has been broken like this wished she could send this letter. It's a small town, word might get back to you. But let's be honest, how much of this do people not already know? Don't think this was really about you. It was about the demons I have faced and am still facing with you. The demons that broken hearts everywhere have to face. Even you.

               I guess it wasn't really no matter the storm, huh?
                                                                           Elizabeth Lewis

P.S. I know she was there the night before. Be nicer to your roommate. And stop flirting with girls who are friends with me...they just come run and tell me!

Man...that was heavier than I expected it to be! It was never my intention for this letter to be bashing my ex. I really wanted to write this to prove to y'all, and maybe even still to myself, that heartbreak works on its own time. It comes in stages. I'm out of the "stomach hurts when I see you" phase, but am not to the "wishing you all the best" phase. Obviously. I didn't feel the need to be vague, because if you know me, you know exactly who I'm talking about anyway! Might as well just let it all out. I also wanted to showcase the fact that abuse isn't always obvious. I'm not trying to say that my relationship was abusive. That's not it at all. But some of those backhanded compliments? The projecting of his own fears onto me? They did a number on my confidence. 

I also don't think that I was innocent in the dramatic explosion that was the end of our relationship. I know I am hard headed. I know I was new to the whole "love" thing. But I also woke up every day wondering how to make him happy. How to make him love me like I loved him. Agape--self sacrificial love. That kind of love. I think somewhere he felt those things too. Or maybe he just thought he should. He did teach me how to love though--I never knew a heart could be filled with so much feeling for another person. 

It's okay to be mad, or spiteful, or upset, or depressed, but don't ever think that you have to go through it alone. I made that mistake the first time around and made some very poor decisions. Needing alone time and thinking you have to suffer alone are two very different things. 

I would say don't blame yourself, but I know you're going to. But don't forget to blame them too. One day you'll wake up and feel like it was mostly their fault. And then one day you'll wake up and know that you don't ever want to get back together with them (like ever! Sorry I couldn't resist). And one day it won't hurt to say their name, or run into them. And hopefully, one day soon, we won't even think of them. 

-L