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Let me take you back. Way back. To the day I was brace faced, got my first pimple, and had no idea what a straightener was..which is a devastating reality since I have what I now fondly call, a “white girl ‘fro”. I had experienced for the first time that previous summer what would later plague me for the rest of my life. A full force of emotions, shortness of breath, worrisome thoughts, tears, and restless nights: Anxiety. This was the year that my parents decided to put me into the dreaded public school. Before this, I had lived the sheltered life of a homeschooled pre-teen who spent the majority of her time with her sister and brother and experienced just enough time in sports to know girls are mean and they fight dirty. 

I didn’t know that classes had seating charts, that my one friend from youth group was actually to cool to be my friend in middle school, how to open a locker, or what designer jeans were. This is where I started my habit of being late, so that I didn’t have to get to school before the bell rang and God forbid stand on the wall alone while watching all the cool kids form tight circles around themselves.

I found myself in limbo and struggling to define just exactly where I fit in. Hoping and believing that maybe, if I became a cool kid I would get the pleasure of being in the tight circle of the laughing kids with nice hair and finally belong. Fast forward to my junior year of high school: I had caught up with the trends, figured out the straightener, and established just enough faux confidence to convince the cool kids I was one of them. I remember my first day of junior year sitting in yet another tight circle in our hall and realizing, “I made it!”.  

But as friendships and alliances changed in high school, as they always do, I found myself sitting in a sea of faces who all supposedly knew me. Yet feeling the loneliest I have ever felt in my entire life. What a tragedy, to be supposedly known and then to realize those supposed friends don’t know you at all. How could they? When I had suppressed so much of myself to fit the mold. 

Turns out in an adult world the “cool kids” are still here. But I know better now,…for the most part. I strive to learn and grow and be myself. I find myself perfectly belonging and accepted by some misfits, some ex-cool kids, and some rebellious souls like me. Who have given up trying to fit molds that choke the life out of their originality and wholeness. I find myself being known and then loved regardless and being encouraged to be even more of my uniqueness.

This is why writing a blog is hard. I know a lot of “cool kids” who write blogs. They mostly use it as another way to prove how cool and perfect they are and to gain more popularity. Just saying I have a blog feels like such a “cool kid” thing to say. And I’ve wrestled with it. A LOT. The success of blogs is measured by likes, retweets, shares, and followers. I don’t want to measure the success of anything I do by those things! 

My only hope in all of this, is that just as other people’s words have freed me and made me feel less alone, that my words could somehow by miracles from the sky, do the same for you. That my blatant honesty and vulnerability about my fears, loves, struggles, life,etc … would send you a lifeline. That as I learn the messy process of shattering the windows of my life and I fully letting you in, that maybe, just maybe, you would have the courage to do the same with your own windows. 

You know that lie? The one that whispers in your ear and you say it to yourself and others over and over again: “everything’s fine” “we are good” “I am good” “I’m okay”.  Well I’m hear to scream, “EVERYTHING’S NOT FINE!”. And this life is a battle, a race, a fight that has me feeling alone way too many times.

Things you should know:

1. I’m never going to write out of obligation - which means I’m not here to crank out material so you are entertained. 

2. I don’t have the answers - anything I write about is my reality. Which means it’s true for me, but does not mean it’s true for you. Answers that I’ve found to be true for my life does not necessarily mean they will be answers for your life. 

3. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing - With this blog. With my hair. With fighting off depression when it lurks around the corner. With dinner. With my life. 

4. I am not always right - I usually think I am. But I’m willing to wave the white flag often and realize I’m not.

5. MOST IMPORTANT: The only reason I’m doing this is the hope that there are more crazies out there like me who say “frick ya!” when they read my thoughts. So PLEASE! If you’re encouraged please give me an email once in awhile that says “frick ya!”. I guess you can email me if you're confused or challenged, but especially when you’re encouraged.