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)

Father's Day

I am not the kind of person to take many dates to heart. On Father's Day I take the time to celebrate the man who is in my life, my Grandpa, and take time to remember the amazing Daddy that was in my life for 6 years. If many of you are reading this, you've probably already seen my status on Facebook about my Dad. I go through phases with my grief, as anyone who has experienced any level of death will do throughout their life. As I am going through this difficult time in my life in terms of heart break from a relationship (which this is all I am going to say about that out of respect to those involved), I feel lonely as many of my friends are spending their summers in Athens, and I really miss my dad. One thing, though, that I have enjoyed so much is getting to spend a lot of time with my grandpa, or "G" as many of you know him by.

Talk about an amazing man! I pray I make it to 90 and look as great as he does. In his 90 years he has fought in a war, owned his own restaurant, lost a child, had two beautiful daughters, lost his parents and sister, and most importantly, he has lost the love of his life and wife of 59 years. A few months ago, he broke his tail bone and has been in a lot of pain and is trying to rebuild his strength as an injury like that can only heal itself. However, I love getting to watch his eyes twinkle when someone tells a good joke. I don't think I've ever taken the time to truly think about all of the wisdom he has. I have so enjoyed getting to eat breakfast with him every morning (as we both don't make it to the breakfast table until 11am!) Although Grandpa has experienced a lot of heart ache, he still has his sense of humor. Just a few days ago I realized how much I am like G Money. I get my Irish "hot-headedness" from him, my stubborn mentality, opinionated personality, corny sense of humor, and dashing good looks (just kidding, but hey, he IS darn handsome : ]). Recently he has shared a lot of his wisdom with me about money, relationships, education, and children. He enjoys making fun of my TV show selections, and always feels free to add his input, especially about how stupid girls are to spend $10,000 on a wedding dress on Say Yes to the Dress, but hey, he's practical. When my grandparents moved in to help my mom when I was 8, I had no idea I would have such a wonderful relationship with Grandpa. He has been such an amazing male role model. There are so many statistics about what a girl who grows up without a dad will be like, and I am proud that I am none of those things. I got to experience an amazing father for my first 6 years, and for the last 12 years I've had an amazing grandpa serve as a surrogate father. Perhaps what I appreciate the most is that he never tried to be my dad. He kept his role as a grandpa by spoiling me rotten, offering advice when I didn't want it, correcting my tantrums, and loving me unconditionally. Without him I would not be who I am today. He brings so much joy to my life, and I am so grateful for him.

I am also grateful for my incredible Heavenly Father on this Father's Day. He has never led me astray, left me, disappointed me, forgotten me, forsaken me; rather He has loved me like no other, shown me His way, taught me about forgiveness, and has given me righteousness.

Why does God do what He does?

I feel like I say this every time, but it's been a while since I've posted.

My main question tonight is why does God do what He does? Tonight I have a heavy heart. My grandpa really is not doing well and it really hurts me to see him in so much pain. I know my mom gets frustrated since she is the only one with him all of the time. It kills me to be away from home; I just want to be there to help. I often think about transferring to KSU to live at home. I feel like if I could be home I could help with things around the house with my mom, grandpa wouldn't be home all the time, I could spend more time with Caroline and Drew and help Jackie and Andrew, etc. etc. It's something I'm really struggling with right now. But I know I wouldn't be happy at home, and I know God wants me at UGA. I'll be home for the summer soon (thank God) and hopefully I will feel more peace about all of this.

I also found out a while ago that my former ballet teacher has Aplastic Anemia, which is a really dangerous disease. My mom, who is a nurse, explained to me that Ms. Natalie, the ballet teacher, would be in a lot of pain and that it was a difficult disease. It's been a few years since I've seen Ms. Natalie, but we still email every now and then. I've always looked up to her for the great dancer she is and the wonderful woman of Christ that she is. She has been updating her blog with news about her being in the hospital, and tonight I read her caring bridge site. Hearing about her time in ICU and all of the scary things that are going on really got to me. I really am having a hard time understanding why God allows us to go through so much pain. I know that as humans we are sinful and that God gives us situations that will make us stronger, but it still hurts. It hurts me to know how much pain she is in, and how angry she is. What gets me the most is when she mentioned about her two young children not having a mother. I wasn't much older than Ruth, her 4 year old, when my dad died. I just remember how confusing it all was, and the day he died still haunts my memories sometimes. Thinking about her kids really really gets me. After 13 years I've come to peace with the fact that my dad died. My life would be completely different if he were here and I would not be who I am. But I think of her sweet little children and the pain that will come with knowing their mommy is sick. I know why God took my daddy away, but I can't wrap my head around why he takes parents away from the other innocent little kids.

I just don't understand...

Sticks and Stones

I don't know why TV shows always seem to elicit big thoughts...but I guess that just shows what a TV junkie I am. So, watching One Tree Hill on Netflix, I watched the episode where a student brings a gun into a school. He wounded one, and shot himself. When we were little, we were all taught the expression, "stick and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." But oh how false this expression is. Words do hurt, and any human being can tell you they do. Now, throughout my years of schooling I faced the "mean girl," the "bully," or the rumors, but what about when I was the mean girl? When I was a bully? What about when I gave into the rumors, and even spread them? I am guilty of, at times, using my words to hurt others. Now, I regret my words and actions, and I've asked for forgiveness from God, and I can only pray that those people I've hurt have forgiven me, as I've forgiven those that hurt me.

So, in this episode, the kid brings a gun to school mostly because no one ever talked to him. He eventually grew apart from his friends, and felt all alone in the world: a different kind of heart break. Even though I faced mean people, I was, and still am, fortunate to have a family that I can be honest with. Now, in this TV show, this student lied to his mom and told her it was OK. I'm not a parent, so I cannot speak for this woman, but I pray, I pray that my niece and nephews, and eventually my children, will never have to pretend like everything is OK. I pray that as an aunt, and as a parent, that I can know these children well enough to know when they're happy. The student in the TV show also said that no one, not even a teacher, would utter a word to him at school for weeks at a time. So, of course this got me thinking about being an educator...

I have now set a new goal for myself: to say hello, or even smile, at each and every student I can. I had a teacher in high school named Coach Bettis, he taught AP US History, and every Friday was "handshake Friday", and as we left the room, we were to shake his hand and he told us to have a good weekend. Looking at this from the perspective of a future teacher, I think this was awesome. Each student in his class got to know that they were worthy of a handshake. And I think that for someone who felt left out, knowing that a teacher spoke to you and thought you were important, even just for a moment, is a good thing. As a future educator, I hope that my students never feel like I don't care, because I will. I hope to have my own "handshake Friday," or something of the sort. I still believe that although it may not seem like one person can change the world, they can change someone's world, and as a teacher, I hope to be an influence in someone's world. I hope to let them know that they are not alone, even though it seems like the world is against them. I pray I can accomplish these goals, to help those hurtful words come with a little less pain.

What a Difference a Week (and a half) Makes!

I am glad to say I am in a much better place than I was just a little over a week ago. My sister, Jackie, reminded me of the importance of enjoying the little things in life today, because those little things will not be the same in a day, a week, or a year. I will never get today back. This last week I've really been trying to get my anxiety levels back down, and I've been doing pretty well. This week I had two programs, two papers, a test, a speech to give, and starting my field experience. With a lot of prayer and planning ahead, I was able to not get stressed out. Today especially I was reminded of how to appreciate the little things. As I was walking back from getting lunch, a cardinal flew in front of me. As most of you know, my memories of my dad are very limited, but I can vividly remember watching the cardinals in the front yard. I remember my dad telling me that his favorite color was red, so I deemed that cardinals were his favorite bird because they are red. Each time we saw a cardinal, my dad told me to make a wish, so even now, almost 14 years later, I still make a wish every time I see one. Seeing the cardinal flooded my mind with those wonderful memories of my dad, and it was like he was reminding me that even though he isn't physically here, he's still here for me.

As I dive more and more into Education classes, it becomes more evident that it is a career path the Lord really wants me in. It was about a year ago that I changed my major from Psychology to English Education, and I'm so glad I switched majors. It was something I very prayerfully considered. I admit, it is very depressing to hear teachers today talk about how much they love their students, but hate the system. Schools are getting rid of the arts, which takes away a little "escape" for students from their purely academic classes. No Child Left Behind laws are forcing teachers to teach to standardized tests, making it difficult to differentiate in their classrooms, which is what they want teachers to do. To make it even more difficult to cater to students' needs is the fact that they are getting rid of honors classes, as well as AP classes. The thing that kills me is that those making these decisions are not people who were just in high school several years ago, they have long since graduated. Hearing stories makes me think that 90% of the time, I'm crazy for wanting to pursue a career in education.

Today I began my field experience at Classic City High School. It's an alternative school for students who have either dropped out, or are many credits behind for graduating. Their teacher-student ratio is 1:15. Wow! And what's interesting is that each of these students have their own lessons on a computer system. They still switch from class to class, but using the computer system allows each student to work at their own pace. Some are working on credits even from last semester. The teacher serves as more of a mentor and helps students when they need it. Now, I don't really know enough to judge how I feel about everything being on the computer. Stay tuned to get more information. But, I think the idea of these alternative schools is amazing. Also, I wish every school had the good fortune of only having 15 students to one teacher, but that's a dream world. However, even just for today I had the chance to break the stigma about "drop outs." These students were pushed out by the system, a system that has 33 students to one teacher and puts students from AP to remedial all in one classroom. These are the students that are labeled in a way that they "don't care or want to learn." But in fact, that isn't true for all of them. One of the students I encountered today is around my age and has 3 children. Yes, I know that those were choices made on her part, but she is still given the chance to get an education on her terms, amazing. These students are also encourage to get jobs, internships, etc. They're encouraged to attend college, and the school will help them in any way they can. All of the teachers know every student's name. I guess my meager hour and a half at the school this morning just left me wanting to know more about this system. I'd like to get some insight into how I could apply some of these aspects into my school one day. I know the Lord wants me to be a teacher, it's just a matter the decisions I'll make to get there.

Patience is a Virtue

So, as many of you know, patience is one of my shortcomings. I am NOT a patient person. Bobby gets so mad at me when we drive to the beach because I'm still a 5 year old asking "are we there yet?" I constantly ask my mom how much longer until dinner, and complain when it's longer than I want it to be.  I am not a procrastinator, so therefore I like things done in a timely manner. That way, everything goes according to schedule and according to plan. However, God has an incredible sense of humor.

God is teaching me to be patient, and the more I pray for patience, the more challenges he presents to test this quality. Honestly, I've been failing at it. I have a fear of not being busy, because when I'm busy, I don't think about how sad I can get, or how worried/anxious I am. Although I have been very busy lately with school work, SAO stuff, and being an RA, every once in a while there are some times where I'm alone in my room to my thoughts. I hate it. I get anxious thinking about how I am not being productive, and therefore worry about what needs to be done, which in turn makes me apathetic towards getting work done. It's a vicious cycle, and one that is not easily broken. I am at a point where I really wonder what I am going to do with my life. Honestly, I really don't want to grow up. I wish I could just fast forward 10 years and see my life and have a great realization of "Oh, that's why I'm going through all of this." I want to know who I'm going to be. I have a plan for my life, but I often forget about God's plan. He is making it evident lately that our plans do not match up. This comes into my life especially with the situation with Bobby. As we grow closer as a couple, it makes our time apart seem like eternity. I can't even get into typing about it because I'll start crying (pathetic to the utmost degree, I know). I also get stressed out about my future in the work force. Yes, I want to be a teacher, but in my ideal world, I just want to be a mom. I got to see how wonderful it was for Jackie and Courtney to be able to work from home, and I know in my heart that that is what I want. So, and this is bad, sometimes I think "why go through all of this if I just want to be a mom?" I know that's irresponsible and obviously I'm not having a baby any time soon, and obviously I'm going to finish school. But...I digress. God even likes to interrupt my plans for the day, by presenting me with challenges to test my anxiety. I'm trying very hard to be patient and see what God has in store for me, but it isn't working out too well. He is also teaching me to embrace silence, something that I do not do willingly. I am trying to trust in God's plan no matter how difficult it is. I'm mostly just stuck in this middle spot thinking, "now what?" I don't really know who I am or what I want for now. But every day I get up, and pray for patience, and that God's will be done-no matter how difficult that is.

"I remain confident in this- I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord." -Psalm 27: 13-14

Being Wrong

No one likes to be wrong. I HATE being wrong. I'm a perfectionist, I'm OCD, I have an anxiety disorder, I am rarely wrong. Due to the events in my life, I've convinced myself that if I stay 3 steps ahead of the rest of the world that everything will be ok. It worked for the majority of my life, until I became an RA.

When applying to be an RA, they tell you you'll be overworked and underpaid, they tell you you now live in a fish bowl, and they tell you it'll be hard because you work where you live. Heck, they even tell you to expect to be called in the middle of the night. They don't tell you that you'll be called a bitch, or mean, or rude every time you document an incident. They don't tell you that residents will get you out of the shower for a trivial issue. They don't tell you that you have to be empathetic towards little situations like someone's light bulb burnt out or they dropped a toothbrush on the floor. They don't tell you that for every step forward there will be 4 steps backward. They don't tell you that you'll constantly be corrected, and that you'll rarely ever be right. They don't tell you a lot of things.

As an RA you have to humanize and de-humanize yourself at the same time. You have to develop a thick skin while at the same time be so invested in your residents that you're up when they're up and you're down when they're down. You have to put every personal issue aside if a resident needs you. Residents expect you to be a robot, because they majority of your job happens behind the scenes. They tell me I make it "look so easy." Well, you should have seen me 15 minutes ago when I had an emotional breakdown in my room. When you live where you work, you're not allowed to have a bad day, you have to be "on" 24/7. If a resident sees that your face is puffy because you've just been crying and you say you don't want to talk about it, the entire hall knows that you've been crying within 5 minutes. They ask if you're ok, but if you said why you're really upset the entire hall would know that in another 5 minutes. They don't tell you any of this in the many hours of RA training.

Now, I am grateful for my job. I've made friends I know I will have for a lifetime. I really, truly care for my residents. I started praying for them when I found out I was an RA. I pray for them daily. I do want to listen to their problems and I do want to know about their days. There are good times, like last week when I sat in the hall with 5 residents for an hour just talking about our lives, or when a resident makes a great grade on a paper you helped them with. I know I'm supposed to be a servant to God, and I should not complain, but I'm human. I worked so hard to get this position and now I'm questioning all of it. But I know I'm where God wants me to be, and I was so sure of it in August, but right now I'm asking God "why?"

For now, I guess I'll just have to get used to being wrong.