Strength

***WARNING*** Personal post ahead, if you don't care to read it, please don't.

If you know me, you know I'm not good at receiving compliments. Not because I'm humble, but because I usually don't believe them. When people tell me I'm pretty, I usually think about all of the negative things about my body. When they tell me I'm nice or kind, I think about all of the things I've done in my life that have hurt people. But perhaps the compliment I truly dislike is when people tell me I'm strong. Because of things I've been through in my life, I've often been told I'm "the strongest person [someone] knows". I know this is meant to lift me up, but it actually breaks me down. Because, in truth, I'm probably one of the weakest people on this earth.

My father died when I was six, so I was very young. My family told me I was the rock, or the glue that held them together because I could forget what happened and laugh, I was still discovering things about the world they already knew. I was also a reason to discover a new "normal" in the house. I know my family told me this out of gratitude and to make me feel good, but since then I put pressure on myself to be strong. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE when people count on me, but at 6 years old I learned how to put on a fake smile and pretend everything was ok. I never told my mom or sisters that people taunted me at school, how they called me a cry baby if God forbid I remembered my dad died and shed some tears at six. I never told them that they wrote that I didn't have a dad on the white boards during centers. I never told them that this one boy would chase me around the playground saying "your dad is dead, and it's your fault." I know kids don't understand, but they didn't realize that I sat on the top step listening to my father, my hero, take his last gasps of air, or that I watched my mom give him CPR to no avail, or that images of seeing my Daddy lying on a hospital table not waking up haunt my memories. In case you didn't know, that whole "stick and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me" saying is a load of crap. I would much rather have rocks thrown at my head than have those daggers to my heart. As I've grown older I've forgiven those kids. I pray for them and hope they've found happiness in their lives, and bottom line, I pray they never have to know the pain of losing someone so close to them.

When I was 13, I found my grandmother dead on Christmas morning. My grandparents moved in when I was 8. My grandma was my best friend. She knew me better than anyone else. She knew that I struggled with anxiety and depression; she saw past every fake smile; she knew I was in pain, and I lost her. I saw the look in my grandfather's eyes when he realized his wife of 59 years wasn't waking up. I had to tell my mother that her mother was dead. One thing that was different though, was that I had good friends who didn't taunt me this time, people understood. That day haunts me too. But on that Christmas morning, I vowed that I would once again pull my family through this. So I pulled out my old best friend the fake smile and pretended everything was OK. I broke one day though, and started seeing a counselor.

By the time I was 16, I was such an expert at this fake smile and "being strong" and pretending everything was OK that I fooled my counselor. I wasn't OK. I didn't want to live anymore. That's where Jesus comes into the picture. One night I sat crying on my bedroom floor contemplating what I could do to no longer live this life, and a voice came into my head and said, "I'm not ready for you yet, and I love you, and you're worth it." Now, I know that suicide is one of the most selfish things to do to your friends and family. I have SO many people who love me, but depression is a sickness, and when you're in that black hole, it seems nothing will ever be OK again.

Now I'm 20. And if you've read my blog over the last year you know I've struggled. I became an RA, and suddenly I had to worry about 30 young women. I made it my job to make sure they were OK, pray for them, be there for them. Then, I realized I lived in a fish bowl and I decided I would make it look easy and be perfect. In actuality, I was struggling more than I ever had in my life. My anxiety hit a new high. I constantly felt rejected, incompetent, and not good enough. I felt like I was never doing enough and no one was ever happy with me. I hated that people called me a "bitch" and said things behind my back. So once again I whipped out the fake smile. This time though, I didn't tell anyone that I was slowly spiraling back into the black hole, and it sucked me in so fast that I didn't know what was happening. Then I got a broken heart (again, I'm not going into details about that out of respect). It broke the camel's (or my) back. I feel like everyone has baggage, but I have an entire luggage set. If I'm going to be honest, I hit that same dark spot I did when I was 16. I felt like the world would be better off without me. I felt like I was a burden to those who loved me. And the comforting words people told me were, "Victoria, you've gotten through this before. You're the strongest person I know, and you'll come out of this anxiety depression thing." Guess what? I felt weaker than before. I let everyone down; I showed my weakness. Once again though, Jesus has saved me. I've turned to my faith (ironic since it's my middle name, huh?). I'm doing a bible study about living a surrendered life, and one of the devotionals was about broken people. It said that there are two types of people in this world, broken and unbroken, and that the broken people realized they weren't perfect, they admitted their mistakes, took responsibility, asked for forgiveness, and attempted to better their lives. The scripture was 2 Corinthians 7:5, "Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death." So, in case you didn't notice, I'm broken, but right now, I think that's ok.

This time, I told people I was unhappy. I went to see that counselor again, but she really upset me. She told me I put too much into every relationship I have. And if you're in my life, you know I love, and I love deeply. If we were good friends once, I can guarantee I still think about you and pray for you. I love for a lifetime, I don't stop. Once you're in my life, you're in. I give my whole heart to those I love, I care about you, I will listen, and I pray for you unceasingly. I'm much better at forgiving others than myself, so if you think you've hurt me, I've forgiven you. If I loved you once, I still do. So my psychologist telling me I had to change myself killed me, and this is one piece of advice I will not take. I'm supposed to live my life as Christ lived His. He gives me EVERYTHING EVERY DAY. I do not give him enough. I doubt his love, I doubt his kindness. Yet He still loves me. So why would I stop being that way? Yes, this leads me to heartbreak. I've lost friends throughout my life that hurt me and that's why our friendship ended, but I've forgiven you, and I still love you, I promise. It's cliche, but my strength comes from the Lord.

I am weak. I am broken, and I am admitting it for the world to see. I've realized through this recent bout of unhappiness, that if I had just opened my eyes and my heart a little more, I would see that others are in dark places too. I'm truly listening to God now, and I'm doing what the Holy Spirit compels me to do. If you get help from reading about my 20 year journey, or at least some reassurance, then I've succeeded. If anyone who reads this (and that's probably about 10 people) needs help, reach out to me. I would love to pray for you, or meet with you, or talk to you. I've found true joy in praying for others. Maybe I can't be perfect in life, but I can be perfect in prayer, because no prayer is unheard or unanswered. I'm not a "bible pusher" or a member of what some call the "God squad," but I would love to share my faith with anyone who wants to hear. I am not strong, but God fulfills my heart. We are so obsessed with the outcome, that we forget the importance of the journey. I'm much better than when I was 2 weeks ago, and I'm no longer lost, and praise to God for that, but I'm still struggling. Every day is rough. I'm anxious, I am fearful, and I allow the devil to take over my heart and mind sometimes. But I'm working on taking control of my thoughts, and turning every thought into a prayer, because we are commanded to pray unceasingly. Please, if you want to reach out to me, do.

Love forever and ever,

A broken soul.

And smile, God loves you. (more than you'll ever know)