Wings

I write sometimes, remember?

When I was a kid, there was a tape of lullabies that I would listen to every night to try and fail to fall asleep to.
One of the lines in that lullaby is "if I could I would give you wings...soon your little wings will be big enough to fly" all the other lines are completely irrelevant because why?
because I DID get my wings and I don't want them. You got that? TAKE THEM BACK I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THEM.
When I turned 18 they just kind of SPRUNG UP and I didn't really even realize they were there until 2 years later, when I turned 20 . Then after I realized that I had them, I couldn't figure out what to do with them!!
This narrative has continued into my 20's. It hasn't ended. Each year I think "certainly I've made all the dumb decisions, certainly I'll learn my lesson"
Nope, each year I tank harder. Each year I fall further and realize how far I still have to go.


Praise God for a sense of humor, because it is funny, it really is.

It's funny when you plan a beach day and the minute you open the door to leave the house it starts to downpour.
It's funny when the very thing you're trying to distance yourself from for your own emotional health hits you square in the face, LITERALLY.
It's funny when you joke about the Packers losing to the Vikings and they lose the game AND their quarterback.
It's funny when all you want to do is spin as fast as you can on the tilt-a-whirl so you go in it with a friend and NO SPINNING HAPPENS so you just sit there watching the person in front of you who's gone solo spin faster than you're ever supposed to go on those things. And you can't help relating that disappointment to your entire last decade of life.
Its funny moving clear across the country to escape an unpleasant situation and you find yourself in the same situation three years later.
Its funny when someone you had trusted with your heart and just throws it on the floor, shattering it into one thousand million pieces.
All of these things have happened to me* just in the last few months.
There are days that seem just plain bad, those days may turn into weeks. Then you think "OK enough of this irony let's by done now", as you giggle nervously.
And then those weeks turn into months, and then after so many months of it you finally write a blog because you're so exhausted from all of this that just seems like a big joke.
But the joke isn't funny any more. Do you hear me? I'm not having fun any more. I don't want my dreams haunted any more. I don't want to break out in sores because the persistence of this ache just won't leave me be.
Please refer to the asterisk to read any further.

I realize that I've fallen in to a self-centered, victim mentality. I am not speaking of this mindset in the past tense. Nope, I'm writing you from a very weak, mentally and emotionally compromised place. That asterisk is proof of that. "all these things that happened to me." Things happen to people all the time, life happens.
Do you see, as I do, that the very framework of my thinking is flawed? Do you see that I can joke about all these jabs that life is sending me, but take the jokes too far? It's too easy for me to play the victim. To be full of self-pity, instead of thankfulness. Because, boiling it down, that's all this is. "look at all these things I don't have, all these things that DIDN'T happen" instead of "look at what I have, all these things that DID happen.
"Mariah" you ask "where does your Jesus come in to play in all this? Is he not the one you're pointing to in most of your writings? Isn't he the one you're always talking about?"
Yes, yes He is, and I have not forgotten him, and I know He has not forgotten me. He's with me in this season, and I know he is good, even if I don't feel that goodness in the traditional sense of that word right now. I am striving not to forget his promises. And when I say striving I mean it. I'm feeling beat down and it's really tough for me to cling to the light when I'm feeling like I've stumbled in the darkness, over and over. and over. and over.  I can't see what it is He is doing with my life, and I have too many days than is comfortable to admit that I doubt he's doing anything.

It's a dark day, my readers. I have more dark days than I'd like to have. Maybe there's more going on than just a poor attitude. Maybe I need more than just a gratitude check and a "confessional" blog, I don't know.
Right now I just ask you to pray with me.
Pray that in the midst of all these things happening "to" me, that I can step out and "happen" to some one else, that it, that I can take what I DO have (which is quite a lot) and be a blessing.
Maybe you can relate to this, maybe this encouraged you to step back and reevaluate YOUR attitude, as I have done.
Try reframing your woes.
It's funny when your beach day gets rained out so you get to have many indoor conversations, with friends and good food. that probably would not happened if you had been basking in the sunshine, by the waves.
It's funny when you get hit square in the face, fall down, and can get back up stronger (in reality I think I'm still on the ground after this one, but I'm working of figuring out how to get back up)

It's funny when your QB is out for the season. Just kidding, it's not funny. AT ALL. i love you Aaron.
It's funny when you're on the tilt-a-whirl and you're with so many of your friends and you get a second, third, and fourth chance to get that spin and speed.
It's funny when you're in the situation you previously tried to "escape" in your life, but now you're out of coasts to run away to, and so you get a second chance to "learn" the lesson the right way.

There's nothing funny about heartbreak. But I know that God is going to piece it back together, and my fragile little heart will be stronger and better, when all the pieces are in place again, because my heart is now in the hands of the Creator of the universe.

My wings are broken, but I am still called to fly. I'm learning as I go and it is a bumpy road, but I have friends and family supporting me, along with the undying Word of God. Praise Him always!

Shifts

Two months ago, I was confused, I was in a dark place spiritually and emotionally. Granted, the two have always been closely connected for me. 

Two moths ago, to the day, I left the country with so many questions that I know needed answers.

 Much happened in those two weeks out of the country, and I had no idea that when I returned I would hit the ground running. In the few months before I left,  I would have days, weeks , I would open my bible and the words would seem dead. 

Nothing "jumped " off the page, those little Holy Spirit nudges weren't there. 

The verses and words of encouragement I would get through my small group might as well have been quaint little machine generated anecdotes. 

As I prepared for my trip, however, I was stepping in faith, as weak as it felt at the time, knowing i was going to capitalize on my time with my immediate family. I thank God for the time and space he blessed me with. 

God spoke to me in those two weeks. I came back with answers,  clarity, and direction. I came back and the word of God had come alive to me again. I came home, but my entire world as I knew it had shifted. I came home, and my life would never be the same. 

Details are really irrelevant as the point I'm trying to convey is this: God brought me to a certain breaking point to awaken His Word to my heart again. He took away my idol, the object of my hope that was not God himself. 

He ripped that away from me, but He was there. He was there in the shock and confusion to comfort my soul. I've cried, and here is where I would poetically say that I've laughed.  But I haven't. Of course I have actually laughed and I have had moments of joy, but all of them still have this lingering pangs of sadness. I'm not there yet. I feel that moment approaching. I can feel joy just right around the corner. 

This is a message of praise, and what I hope is a message of encouragement to my readers. The pain is deep but His love is so much deeper. 

Remember that He knows your heart, better than you do. He will write your story so much better and more beautifully than you could even imagine.

I encourage you to never stop reading His word. Do not give up on Him because He never gives up on you.

He makes beauty out of brokenness.

Made of Stone

I've been thinking about posting for a while now and I finally decided that I need to just do it, maybe some one needs to read this. My post before this is about my trip to Greece, if you are interested. And the post before THAT is well, polarizing. 
Lately I have been seeing the beauty of imperfection. It makes the beauty of grace that much more brilliant. I will be the first to say that I am not perfect. I am judgmental. Envious. Quick to speak and even quicker to anger. I am selfish. And when no one else laughs at my jokes, I'll laugh regardless because lets face it, I'm basically the funniest person in the world. Is self-centered different from selfish? 
Imperfections mean that there is room for improvement. This is something I am thankful for. For me, being raised in a conservative Christian community (please don't allow this to have negative connotations for you, if you are reading this you are probably my friend which probably means you think I turned out OK, so just accept the fact that "conservative Christian" isn't a terrible thing, it's how I was brought up, and I do not regret that - even though I now consider myself far less conservative now than how I was raised. Just because I do not necessarily strictly identify "conservative Christian" now, as a 25 year old, doesn't mean I'm going to deny my upbringing, I am very grateful my parents raised me the way they did), it's so easy for me to rattle off the Christian, biblical phrases. There is grace enough for me. Jesus died for that sin. His mercies are new every morning. I know them all and I could quote it all while I'm half asleep (actually probably not, some of you have seen me half asleep and know it's not a good situation). But you get the point. All this head knowledge but now I'm living life, doing the damn thing, and I have to take this all to heart. Or else, what do I do, and what is it all for? 

I have not been taking it all to heart. Living in present is simple compared to my past. The past is hard. I know that I should not live in the past but so often that is exactly what I find myself doing. Nostalgia, at this point in my life, is toxic. Yet, I'm all about that nostalgic life. I'm holding on. And no, I'm not talking about my 90's-esque fashion style. I'm talking about the life I left when I moved across the country. I'm talking about the memories, the mistakes, and the heartache. 

The grace that covers me is only applicable to 2015-present-time Mariah. Before that, Mariah was in her bubble. Mariah was dealing with her problems by pretending they didn't exist, by WISHING they didn't exist. Mariah was living IN a reality that SHE WAS ACTIVELY denying, and it almost destroyed her. Oh my gosh how does she break out of third person??

Now the words shame and guilt come to mind. These were words that until recent weeks I associated only with the "unsaved". Shame and guilt were associated only with those who have not accepted the life that comes with surrendering to Jesus. It's not until recent weeks that I realized this was me. 

Jesus could have some of my life. My brothers and sisters in this amazing community I have found myself in can know what I'm struggling with. But I have my limits. They do not see the shame and guilt I tried to leave behind, but instead is now just a silent struggle. I do not open up, and there's certain shame that I do not let go. I want to hold on. Why must I hold on? All I get from it now is embarrassment that I let myself fall into a place of such despair. All I get is regret at how I handled my relationships with those around me. All I get are visible cringes when I think about some of the things I've done. So if you ever see me wincing, ask if I need help, because I may have just hurt myself, y'all know how clumsy I am, but there's also a good chance I am just thinking about something very regrettable I did that I have not forgiven myself for.  

It's slowly been being revealed to me. The reason I hold on is because it's all I know. The place my heart goes to when I recall a certain memory. The place my mind wanders when listening to a certain song. Even when I smell that certain smell, I go somewhere. And it hurts. But it's familiar. It's what I know. How sick is that? "no no Mariah it's not sick don't say that" Well yes it is. It's not healthy for me and it's against everything I claim to be about. 

Where is this freedom in grace? What am I saying about the cross? When do I forgive myself? Me holding on to the past, to my shame and regrets, is spitting on the Cross and the power I claim to hold to. It's laughing in the face of my Savior who tells me I am forgiven. I am a hypocrite because I say one thing and do the other! Me not forgiving myself for something that Christ already dealt with on the cross is the greatest shame of them all. I am a broken sinner. Release of this shame may take time, it may not. But knowing me, it will probably take a while, because I do literally everything slow. And the kind of shame I carry has become, unfortunately, something more of a mindset. Its a mindset I've had for a while. It's been two years. 

This is me letting you all know that the struggle is still too real. Some of you know. Some of you walked me through that time and are walking me through it still. You guys have every right to judge the time it has taken. Even with that I carry some shame. I know that (especially with me) these things take time, and my God does not operate according to time. He's outside of time, this is me trusting Him with my life and my time, and my healing.
So let me get down to it.

There's one place in the world that will always be home to me and right now I can't go there. My goal is to go there, even if it's just for a visit. My goal is to be OK. My goal is to go there and be OK. I have to stay open to whatever God may have for me, and while I do not see Him calling me back there permanently any time EVER, I need to be able to say "OK God, let's do it!" if it truly is his plan for me. Also, I have learned to never say never cuz God has a rather brutal sense of irony. When my time to travel home comes, I'll be able, by grace, to say with assurance that that was then, this is now, and both the past and the present have worked together to make me who I am and who I am becoming. Shame has no place in my life. In Him my broken life is made beautiful. 

Greece

Last blog post I wrote pretty much the weekend after I got back from my experience in Greece, and I ruffled some feathers. Since it's been a few weeks since then, I decided to write about my missions trip I took this summer. I think the feathers are settled now. I shared in a missions meeting last week about my trip and I felt like I was a blabbering mess so maybe in written form it will all sound a little better. This is my team. They also happen to be four of my best friends. Amber, Tyler, Tim & Holly. I wouldn't have wanted to have this experience with any one else. God knew we all needed each other and there was a reason each of us needed to go.

At the camp there were just rows of hundreds of canvas tents as well as some plastic type "buildings" that were probably about 12 by 6, if that. The camp that we were at had about 2,000 people. About 80% of them were Syrian. The rest of the population was rather scattered from different places, but there was a good representation from Iraq and Iran. Afghanistan and Jordan also had representation.
There were hundreds of kids just wandering around the "streets" of the camp. Very little structure, if any, is provided for these children during the day. Most of the children running around have lice. Needless to say I washed my hair quite well after this particular day. Those of you who know me know how I feel about kids (not my favorite). This picture was really only half posed as I was so happy to be occupying the time of these adorable children if only a few hours. Having the chance to give them something to do other than playing with dirt, throwing rocks, or brawling with the bigger kids was a huge blessing both to me and them.

Part of the camp was a section for "unaccompanied minors." These guys are here without parents. They've stopped their education to go seek a safe place to live, because their home is being destroyed by both ISIS and their own government. Most of them were fine sharing with us the places they came from and what they left behind, but many of these people just need to have a regular conversation with people who are willing to listen. Language was not as much of an issue with these guys because they all spoke English very well, some of them better than me! That gentlemen next to me in the blue introduced himself as Michael Jackson, and that's who we knew him as. If you know me you know me and him got along great as we are both dancers! He has spent some time in Algeria so he was very excited to hear that I have some connections to Morocco. 

We were at the camp for five days, on the 1p-9p shift. Upon arrival, our team would go straight to the huge food tent at the start of food distribution to help pass out the waters. Each individual in the camp would be provided with just one litre of water a day, no matter the circumstance. This baby's name is Maria. At camp, I was known as Maria. In Arabic it was much easier to just drop that 'H' at the end of my name. What a cool connection. Maria's father asked for an extra water because Maria is about to have a little sibling. The pregnant, extra old, and extra young, each get one litre a day. As I was thinking about this, I'm not a big drinker, but in that heat even I found myself rather desperate for water. These people have no fans or air conditioning. We were there at the beginning of June, so it was still "cool" It was about 85-89 degrees every afternoon. It was humid heat as well. Those of you living in California do not really understand humid heat, so it's difficult to describe in a way you will understand how hot 89 degrees with high humidity really feels. All this to say that 1 litre is not sufficient. 

After the food and water distribution was finished (in total it took about 2 hours) we got the opportunity to build relationships. By helping each person to carry the waters/food to their tent, it gave us the opportunity to see who was receptive to having conversation. I can't think of a time that I was not invited in to a tent for tea. Hospitality is just their nature. The volunteer group that we were with had already established relationships with some families. One of my favorite experiences was going with some of our translators to give them a gift of the Bible. This particular family spoke English very well and they were trying to improve so we were able to gift them with a Bible that was in English and Arabic. I got chills listening to the mother reading the Word in Arabic, our people translating in English. The few that have professed Christ do not have an easy road ahead of them. All "discipleship" had to take place in the privacy of a tent. Conversations about the Messiah could not happen out in the open. 

The camp is run by the Greek army with funding from UNHCR. They are provided 3 meals a day and 1 litre of water. There is a first aide and clothing 'donation' building, as well as a first aide supply tent where supplies are passed out once a week. This tent was so necessary with toddlers, and rocky ground, with bullet wounds and lingering infections prevalent. There is a playground and a soccer "field" at the camp. Except that this soccer field has no grass. If any of you understand basically any other culture besides American, you know how important "futbol" is to them. They will play with any spherical object they could find or make. The last day, we brought some of our new friends a real soccer ball and in a few hours it looked about as used as if they had been playing with it all week. 

A personal frustration for me was the time limitation that we had. The amount of depth we were able to reach with some of the people we met in just five days was unreal. Five days hardly seemed like enough. But going was better was not going. Even if all we were able to do was say the name of Jesus, maybe that's all they needed. Maybe in a few months time they will have another encounter with a Jesus follower that speaks his name and they will be reminded of us, and how we came to just spend time with them, just to listen, and in this way, show the love of Jesus. We heard so many stories. We heard where these people came from, the lives they left behind. We listened to their hopes, dreams, loves and losses. 

Please note how I have not referred to the individuals we met as refugees. Yes, they are, but we were there to humanize them. In my particular community in Florida, people tend to be rather ignorant of Arabic culture and Arabic people. At my grocery store that I work at,  I can think of about 3 covered women that shop there. There is a sentiment of fear around the Arab/Muslim culture. There was an expressed concern for my safety and down right fear when I would tell people what I was going to do and the people I was going to come into contact with. Stereotypes ran stronger than I had feared, thus my reference to these "refugees" as "people." Because that is what they are. They are people. Most of them are hurting more deeply than any one in America could ever imagine. These Arabic Muslim people have reason more than any one on earth to hate ISIS. They've been shot, bombed, their families ripped apart by ISIS. We saw and talked to people without a foot, or just half of both feet, because they had been blown off. 

Each member of our team went over there with a certain set of skills. Tyler is a handy man. Amber has the heart for the children. Holly is literally just all around amazing, so friendly to every one, and Tim has had a heart for Muslim people for as long as I've known him. Tim and Holly are the leaders of our young adults sunday school, so their hearts have always, I think, been for the young adults of their  community. And as all of you probably know, I have a heart for the elderly. Each one of us was able to use the gifts God has given us, at least once on the trip. 

This was an older lady that I had had my eye on all week. I would pass by her tent, some times she would be there and some times she wouldn't. The second to last day I was able to go with one of our translators over to talk with her. The only thing we were able to find out was that she was about 74 years old. Kurdish. And she had some upper respiratory issues. I had no idea how to help this woman but I had to be with her, if only for a minute. I was able to just massage her hands and feet, and wipe them with a wet wipe. That's all I got to do, that's all I could do. As I was getting ready to leave she grabs my face and kissed it all over. It was the highlight of my life. My heart was so full in that moment I felt like I was flying. I'm still praising God for this moment. 

I would like to thank everyone for keeping me in their prayers and especially thanks to those who supported me financially. This is a shot from Acrocorinth. We were able to do some touring around Corinth and Athens. It's still rather unbelievable that I walked the same streets that Paul and some of the other biblical greats walked. And walked we did, we walked about 20,000 steps a day. As I ate mostly Greek salads when we were there, I lost about 7 pounds!. Woops! I'm working on gaining that back. All in all, Greece was an amazing experience and we are already looking to next year. Next year Lord willing we will be going to Germany, where many of these families are hoping to start their new lives. These people are just like those we would meet walking down the street here in America. At the heart of every one is the need for the light and love of Jesus Christ. 

Prayers for the future: The situation in the camp seems desperate and hopeless. Each person has to be interviewed by the office that's in Athens. In order to make an appointment for this interview (which is usually six hours long) you have to be able to contact the office. To facilitate this contact, the camp has a Skype tent open for about an hour a day. The number they are calling for Skype is the same number for all 50,000 refugees in the country of Greece. Yes that's right, one man, in one office, at the other end of one Skype number, with 50,000 people trying desperately to reach him so they can set up an interview to maybe be accepted so they can maybe leave the camp so they can maybe find a better life in a place that can never truly be home for them, because their real home is destroyed, and they are fleeing for their lives. 

Pray fervently for a more practical solution. We want and need these camps to be temporary. 

Pray for the seeds that were planted to grow, even if the seed was tiny and our experiences brief. 

Thank you again for your love and prayers. 

Peace. 

Orlando Shootings

I prayed today that the Lord would take this off my heart and mind if I wasn't supposed to say something and it's pressing on my heart more than ever so here we go.
Orlando is home to me. Let me elaborate. I do not live in the city of Orlando, I am safe. Whenever I tell people out of state where it is that I live in Florida I will often say Orlando. Orlando is where it's at. The good food, the good schools, all the attractions (besides the beach of course) - they're all a 45 minute drive away in Orlando. Orlando is where we get our news. Orlando is where we get Disney, and we all know how important Disney is to you if you are a good Floridian...human being actually. So essentially Orlando is home. Florida is home. America is home.
As many of you know, I just returned home from a trip to Greece. On this trip I had the opportunity to meet and interact with a displaced people group that was fleeing for their lives because ISIS was attacking and destroying their country. In no way am I trying to EQUATE the Orlando shootings with the systematic destruction of an entire country and it's citizens, the two could never be equated. I am COMPARING them, however, and you must see the parallels.
These people were not home but they felt safe. I came home, and now I do not feel safe. I feel frustrated and sad, just as I did at the refugee camp, alongside the people who's lives were destroyed by ISIS.
I have questions.
Why was the news of this shooting not mentioned in my church service this morning? I realize that the reports of the death toll did not come through until after the time my service began, but this is hardly an excuse. I, at 8 AM, was vaguely aware of a gunman/shooter situation that had gone on the night before in Orlando (I glanced at my phone - that's literally how unavoidable this news was), but I find it hard to believe that no one in leadership knew of the immensity of what had just happened. Why the silence? We pray for local churches every Sunday, including the Orlando area. We are the Orlando area. I don't understand why, as a room packed full of Christ followers, we did not fervently lift the city we call home up in prayer? We did not pray for the victims, why? Does it have anything to do with the rainbow flag that has been waving alongside the American flag in the aftershock of this horrific tragedy?
If the presence of that flag gives you any pause in your reaction to the massacre, you need to check yourself, hard - it's absolutely disgraceful. I'm frustrated by some of the comments I've already heard about witnesses statements, lifestyles, and backgrounds. I don't want to make any assumptions, but if what I fear most is true about radio silence from my church this morning,  I may need to rethink where I spend my Sunday mornings.
Yes I am full of frustration. I am heartbroken. I don't understand why ISIS kills the innocent.
I implore you, keep your focus and prayers on what matters. That's what I am going to do.. I am going to let my heart break for what breaks the heart of my God. Some of his children died senselessly today.
Pray for the victims families killed by these men both in Syria and America. Thank God for each day we get. I am not here to tell you where God is when something like this happens. I don't have an easy answer for that but I know that God is the same today as he was yesterday, and he will be the same tomorrow. And that's about the only assurance I have right now. 

Use Somebody

blog title chosen because I just freaking love this song and it's been stuck in my head lately.

2014 - I lived under a thick cloud of depression and confusion. I was in so much pain and it felt as though my entire life was in disarray. 
2015 - that thick cloud began to lift. I still had dark moments but I was more willing to bring those dark things to light, accept them, and work through them. 
2016 so far, has been a lot of forward progression. If I'm honest so much has happened and is happening and I'll try not to go into super gory detail about it. 
I'm realizing that I'm a very moody person. I'm caught between "just keeping it real" with people/not wanting to "put on a face" and curbing my emotions and simmering down if I'm angry or just not feeling it that day. I guess I just don't appreciate fake people so when I'm feeling like Satan pooped on my day specifically, I don't want to act like everything is ok. If I feel like garbage I'm not going to act like a sunflower I'm sorry. In the same breath I can say that I do quite often feel like a sunflower so when I am acting like a sunflower, it's not an act at all, it's real. Generally I have a gift of joy so often I think Satan does take a crap because what I have is something he would like to squash. And more days than I'd like to admit, he wins. 
At any rate, lessons are being learned. Nearly a quarter of the way through 2016 (seriously, HOW?!?) and I can say definitively that things are happening. Good things.
I had a mid twenties life/career change. Always fun. 
I will soon be traveling to a foreign country that I've never been to with people I've never traveled with. So I think they're cool and I think they think I'm cool but like I said, we've never traveled together. 
I am learning that my self esteem has come leaps and bounds. Hearing truth about who I was created to be and blocking out lies. But this is a daily struggle for me.
I'm being honest about my feelings, good and bad, and I have people in my life who I know will love me through the good and the bad.
I continue to place relationships with people above literally anything else and I know this is a problem. How do I know this? I can easily spend hours thinking about one thing one of my friends may have said to me, offhand. Who does that? Me? Right now? no!yes.ugg.
I am realizing that I do have a unique and specific heart and I need to be doing what I love. And I'm working on it (I'm just going to say it: I love old people. So much. It can get out of hand sometimes. "Mariah! look at those old people!" is like a saying now.)
I still talk too much and don't listen enough.
I'm still about 10 years old when it comes to humor. I'm about 10 years old when it comes to boys/crushes. And as always, with dancing, I'm timeless. Baby I'm classic. This is a love that will never die.
I need to say things that bother me that I know I can't just let go, even if the person I'm saying it to isn't going to like what they hear. 
I am building friendships that are not based on who I was in high school. I'm building really fun but also serious relationships with people who are learning how to adult right alongside me. 
I am learning to love. I am learning who and how Jesus loved and I try to do the same. 


that's just a quick update on my life. My friends and family thank you for your support.

ps. I got a new phone # in January so if any of you want that just text me. just kidding that's so stupid. Direct message me K? :) 

If you didn't get engaged

If you were a part of the minority that did not get engaged to their significant other this holiday season, this is for you. If you're still waiting for someone to put a ring on it: STOP!
I'll be the first to admit it: I am a monster of my own making. I have seen all the movies and believed all the force fed white lies that tell me fairy tales exist. The monster I have become is a romantic. Paired with my inherited tendencies to feel both good and bad emotions to their full extremes, it makes me a hopeless romantic. A hopeless romantic with a crippling fear of rejection, making me one bottled up mess when it comes to matters of the heart. All this to say that as it stands right now I am very far away from ever having a ring on it. And you know? I'm ok with that. In a world that tells me I should not be, I'm LEARNING every day, to be ok with that. 
For as long as I can remember, I was allowing myself to live in a false reality where my happy ever after was GOING to happen. I knew with who and how. But here I am, living in a world after having to give up what I thought would be true and I don't know what to do, but I know I need to stop waiting for him. I need to stop waiting for that perfect guy to come and tell me he loves me and wants to give me the world. Stop waiting for him to feed me those lines I always hear in the movies. You know the lines I'm talking about, the ones he drops right before they kiss and the credits roll. The lines she has been waiting for her whole life and finally hears. The lines that FINALLY fulfill her life, so now the movie can end, right?  No one shares the story of the girl who watched it happen, wishing more than any thing it was her.

2015 has taught me so much. There's life after heartache. Spiders are Satans feces (jk...not really kind of but not really, nope, not really joking) There is a huge need in this world for unattached adults (childless, partnerless). Floridians can breathe water vapor for long periods of time (13 months of the year). There is more than what the romcoms tell us there is. But of all the lessons I've learned it all comes to this one thing: I cannot change reality by denying it. This year I have been accepting who I am. I have seen little glimpses who God has made me and I have even begun to love and accept that girl. Crazy I know!! 
Sure there are things that I don't want to accept about me, because there are things that I don't like about me, but no one except me can change it. No one else has to give me permission to change or not change and no one is going to tell me what to change. Those days ended right around the time I started paying for my own food and other various expenses. I think they call that adulthood but I'm not sure. 
So all you other ringless wonders out there, would you join me? Lets find out who we are, show the world, and kick butt!

Mom & Dad

I don't live with my parents. The last time I really lived with them I was 17. Then came college and then came their move across the world. Time and distance has been the best thing for my relationship with them because I see with objectivity all they have done for me and how they have shaped me. 
They chose to raise me in a conservative christian bubble. They put me in a Christian school, k-12. I chose a Christian university. Think whatever you will of this. 
I could blame my parents for a lot of things in my life. I could blame them for my general ignorance about how the world works. I could blame them for my being an idealist because of this.
But I won't BLAME them  - I'm CREDITING them with that because the best thing they ever did for me was root me in the foundational truths of the gospel. Outside influence and understanding of any thing outside the "christian bubble" is something I have to learn and interpret for myself any ways. 
Here's what I can NOT blame them for: dysfunctional relationships. Granted, my situation with the topic of "boys" is QUITE unique, but that chapter is over. The example set for me is truly a rarity. 
My mom drives me insane at times. 
My dad drives me insane at times. 
They both need to fix EVERY thing as soon as possible. 
Mom some times puts up a hard front but we all know that most of the time that wonderful woman is way too soft inside. 
Dad can't talk about ANYTHING remotely serious with out making a list of bullet points. Bless his beautiful administrative heart. 
And for the record, I see so much of both of them in myself all the time. Most of the time I love it but every so often it makes me cringe. OK back to mom and pop...
They are in love with each other and have been for the majority of their lives. I guess I could blame them for setting the standard so high. 
I personally don't know how they have put up with each other for so long because I don't think I could be married to either one of them. But I love them so much for that. 
The example of two imperfect people living an amazing life together. 
I think I just made myself cry. 
I also can NOT blame them for a lack of support. 
I was an extremely miserable 17 year old. Let me just say it: I was a bitch. But the worst kind. The kind that pretended to be a nice girl in front of every one but my family. 
My parents were telling me things 7 years ago that I am just now learning. I am still trying to forgive myself for all the time I wasted not listening to them, but from what I hear, it's quite common for teenagers to not listen to their parents? 
Thanks mom and dad, for not saying "I told you so" when I was sobbing to you over the phone and even in your spare room, in your arms, as the things you warned me about years ago were now breaking my heart. 
Thank you for loving me through it. 
I guess I just wrote this post because I'm their grown up daughter who was raised by the best two parents in the world. I wrote this because a new chapter in my life has started and I need their support and love in my life. I always have and I always will. 

QUICKLY NOW

HURRY grab the keyboard - AND SOME CHOCOLATE and GET TO WRITING - I tell myself because I am having a moment of fresh perspective so I'm writing it out before I forget.

I'm three months behind in listening to Tori Kelly's new album "Unbreakable Smile". I've loved that lady from her YouTube days, collabs with my personal fav Jeremy Passion. Any way. She has a song on it called "The Art of Letting You Go". I thought that her hit "Should've been us" was my jam but I was wrong. This letting go song is my jam. Like honestly part of me hates her for writing the perfect song for me, from the very first VERSE to the last word. Curses, Tori, curses and kisses. I'M REALLY EXCITED BECAUSE I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT HAS GONE WHAT I WENT THROUGH!! Well, what I am still going through.

Because YES letting go of what you thought would be and should be everything is indeed an art form because it's as hard as hell to do. BUT GUESS WHAT? Tori Kelly wrote a song about it and it's not the end of her world and it's certainly not the end of mine.

I'm guessing that Tori and I are not the only two people in the world that have had to accept 'no' as the answer and suffer with the heartbreak that comes with the letting go process. If we were the only two, I don't think she would write a song about it because she, like me, would be so ashamed of the way she was feeling that even if she penned a ballad about it she wouldn't put it on her break-out album.

All this to say that I'm not as much of an anomaly as I once thought, and that's encouraging to me.

At this point you are thinking I'm so silly. "Mariah" you say "of course you're not the only one to have had this experience, don't you know?" Hardly any one is EVER alone in any feelings they may be experiencing, no matter how it feels, you are NOT alone, trust me. Human experiences tend to be rather similar. That's the beauty of it all. Of course I'm not the only one to have been on the losing end of unrequited love. Of course I'm not the only one to have held on to something for much too long. If Miss Kelly struggles with it, then I don't feel like such a loser for having the same feelings.

So here is where I exhale. The relief that perspective brings is sweet and long awaited, even if it's for a fleeting moment. Battling my feelings of regret and embarrassment is going to be a continual process. But, thanks to distance and time, these battles are just that - battles- and battles come in waves. Distance and time have been been good to me. The tunnel I've been in has a light at the end and I've caught glimpses. I am prepared for good days and bad days. And I cannot do it on my own. I have to be kept accountable so I can continue to heal and move on.

And whereas this song brought much needed validation, I musn't linger. [this just in - 'mustn't' must be a British thing, because spell check isn't liking it, thanks mom (also, for my FL buddies if you ever hear me saying something that doesn't sound quite right just assume it's a British phrase because I use certain language on occasion that I don't even realize is un-American just because I have used it my whole life. The struggle is real)] I need to continue to move on and look forward. This perspective that I am not alone in my experience comes OVER A YEAR after leaving the place and people I called home, so as far as I have come I know it's an incredibly slow process and it is far from over. I know I have a quite a ways to go and I know I'm going to need encouragement to not dwell on it. I know I need to forgive and forget, even if that means maybe doing things that are not comfortable for me and maybe even one day going to places I never thought I'd have to go again.

Praise the Lord for His grace in all of this.
 

California Love

Travel does the soul good. This is a known fact. It brings perspective on where you are in your life, both geographically and emotionally. This is exactly what happened to me on my last excursion. 

It's been over a year since I decided to leave California. I bought my one-way ticket out of California a year ago on August 27, 2014. On August 27, 2015, I was back in my home state, helping one of my dearest friends get ready for her wedding day. The irony of me being back on the west coast a year after 'leaving it behind' is almost too much to bare. Hilarious? Maybe a little.

The first time my life was uprooted and relocated in such dramatic fashion I was 5 years old and I had no say in the matter, and I was too young to realize the effect it would have on my life. The second time is when I went to college. College, a bubble specially designed for friendships and community, and oh yeah - structure and learning. This last uprooting, though was of my own doing, and I had no training wheels. 

Beginning again has been a lot like college, except there are no coordinated social friendship building events. This time around I was 23 years old and I descended into the lives of people (family) that were already living theirs, I was just starting mine. Even the people I have found here that I really like (friends) have their own lives, and I'm just trying to convince them that they need me in it. 

So why am I still talking about my new life here in florida, 8 months later? Because I have come to realize that 8 months  (four months in Morocco does not count, in case you caught the timeline disparity) is NOT a long time and it is still all very new to me. The last place I lived I was there for almost 20 years so to compare what I had in California to what I have here right now is grossly unfair.  

My visits to California, being with the family and friends that were all so familiar to me, granted me perspective. Yes, I had a life over there. And when there are people there who I allowed to hurt me badly there were countless others that loved me and wanted to best for me. And I was not finding the best for me there, so I left. So here is a reminder to myself that life here is just beginning and I need to take my west coast experience and not get depressed on how far I HAVE NOT got with my life on the east coast but look at how far I HAVE come. I have the start of something great here. I still do not know what's best for me but I'm beginning to see that it's all a choice. It was my choice, ultimately, to come here and it is within my choosing to stay or go. But I believe happiness is a choice and I have as great a chance finding it here as I do anywhere, and the day I think that's not the case I'll be gone. I get to choose who I spend my time with. I get to choose HOW I spend my time. By God's grace I have a great job and some great people in my life. By His grace I can continue to foster those friendships I have already established. By His grace I can lay my insecurities aside, begin new friendships and seek new opportunities that I have offered to me being young, single, and [dirt poor but] debt free. 

well, ttfn ta ta for now. 

Silence is destroying me

Actions speak louder than words. 
My greatest fear in my recent days is that my silence has been screaming. That my silence is telling everyone everything that I have needed to say for so long, but wouldn't. There are words which I could never bring myself to say out loud and that has been my greatest mistake. I waited until it was too late. I never said anything. No words were spoken, and they should have been. 
Actions speak louder than words. 
I am still at this very moment reckoning with myself. Are there words that I still need to speak? Have I left the last few words of the last chapter unwritten, rendering my attempts to begin a new chapter futile? But then I think, what the hell could I possibly need to hear that has not already been made crystal clear to me? Actions speak louder than words. 
One thing I know: something in my heart is still not at peace. My spirit is still unsettled. I long to move on. I long for this ache to be gone. I long for the fog to be lifted. I want to charge ahead towards a bright future, but I can't right now. Something in my gut is stopping me. I need to be free. I can't take back the words I never said (lupe fiasco) and now I'm choking on them.
I need my confidence back. I'm done with this scared little girl. I hate this inescapable feeling of vulnerability. I'm done fearing rejection. God made me to be amazing. He made me to be strong. Am I right now? 
I am the opposite. But I know, change is coming.

It's time for me to root out what is holding me back from being all He has made me to be. I was laughing the other day with some one who really understands my humor, and vice verse. I really laughed. And not like a laugh that's just for the sake of laughing, but a laugh that just kind of erupts from whatever it is inside you that makes you you. I realized that those kinds of laughs have been far and few for me. I am feeling a sobering, dark damper on my soul again and I need it to stop. God made me to be funny. God made to bring joy to others. He made me to laugh, love, and be loved. 

snake bite. baby hands :) 

Female

This might come as a shock to some of you, so brace yourselves: 

I AM A WOMAN. 

Yes, I know it's shocking, but try to keep your composure. 
Allow me for a second to take you back to that lovely time in life called junior high. Remember being 13 or 14 years old and realizing you were ATTRACTED to boys/girls? I remember being 13 or 14 years old and hating boys, but secretly loving them. This secrecy is something I CLUNG to for a decade. 
I have recently relocated and the STRANGEST thing happened. The men in this location seem to identify me as female.
 Just so I'm clear, these MEN see me as a WOMAN and GUESS WHAT? some of them even LIKE ME. And you know what else? I'm ALLOWED to feel the same way towards them and SHOW IT. 
This changes everything. 
This revelation has done more for my self esteem than I thought I even needed! I'm not subjected to suffer in the brozone for the rest of my mortal life. I AM NOT androgynous. 
Don't think I'm now some stuck up blonde that has fooled herself into thinking every man she encounters is falling for her, indeed I am not so far deceived. 

You're probably thinking, wow, Mariah, your words drip with sarcasm and it sounds a little bitter. 
Damn straight. 
Forgive me for not leaping with excitement at having been the only lady-bro left firmly planted in the brozone. 

So here we go, with this newly acquired knowledge that I am indeed a woman who does in fact attract some members of the male species, there's greatly increased potential for complications with any type of relationship with eligible males. Complications and all, it's still quite the breathe of fresh air from perpetually feeling unwantable. 
It's new to me that there are guys out there of suitable age that articulate their feelings. 
It's empowering that I can feel no remorse if I do not reciprocate their feelings and no guilt when admitting either out loud, or to myself that yes, maybe I actually SHARE their feelings.
I'm not saying I'm a smooth heart breaker now (far from it, I'm still a ghastly blumberbum when it comes to fancying someone) all I'm saying is that I'm finally accepting that I'm likable, and I am LOVING IT. 
Anyway, this is all garbage that most people had figured out a while ago but I grew up stifling my feelings for too long. Maturation is now a possibility and it's exciting! Now that I am learning to let go, I can turn the page to the new chapter of my book of love. 
I can't believe I just said "book of love", if I ever write a book about love and stuff and my feelings about boys do me a favor and don't read it and maybe see if you can get me some help. 
Peace out muthafluffas

Music and Memory

Maybe it's just me, but music is a huge part of my life. Music seems to hold all of my memories. I have realized through some recent interactions that music is not a big part of quite of large percentage of the population. So if you're like me then let's not fist bump but totally say we did. 
Now I am not scientist. I don't really care what it says about what kind of brain I have that I link music so close with emotion and memories. The fact is that I do. 
I have come to realize these last few days that if I am to better control my thoughts I must monitor more closely the music that I allow myself to listen to. Why, because if I listen to too much TI I am going to go tint my windows and get black rims on my Camry? No. Well, actually the jury is still out on that one because that now rather old school remix of TOP BACK is just TOO GOOD. But ugg there I go this is exactly what I'm talking about. I would love to say that I wouldn't spend my meager funds on such a trivial thing but I have actually put a substantial amount of thought into how I could make this happen financially, maybe or maybe not just so I could play that song as I cruise around town. 
February marks some kind of 'anniversary' month for me. It is where I marked the start of the toughest year of my life, emotionally. So now, a year later, I am blessed that I can say the hardest year of my life to this point is OVER. yay! For me this means a lot. 
It means that there is an entire year of music that reminds me of said year. Taylor Swift dropped an album, full of passion and heartbreak, and many other fanciful ideas. I love Taylor Swift, and I have never been ashamed of that. She is my spirit animal. Sam Smith, he also dropped an album. Mr. Smith seems to be the king of unrequited love, which is funny because I'm the queen. Or maybe he's the queen and I'm the king? Well, I'll let you decide that one. 
80's hits remind of me of my pops, so I love 80's music. REO, Phil Collins, Earth Wind and Fire, Elton, you name it I got it. PS Dire Straights is my favorite. 
Mama loves her country. She is indeed the most patriotic, English American citizenized lady you will ever meet in your whole life guarenteed. So yes, I like country. Namely 90's country. Ya know, the stuff mama raised me on. Collin Raye, Shania, JMM, Brookes and Dunn, Alan Jackson, Toby Keith. She also loved Celine Dion and Abba. I am the dancing queen. 

OK let's just move on and make this more relatable to my general audience shall we? 
I just think it is fascinating and amazing that memories can be made so vivid through music. I hope I am not the only one out there who experiences this. I'll be listening to my music library or driving in the car and all of a sudden a song comes on and I go back. I can remember EXACTLY where I was, what time of day, who I was or was not with, and how I was feeling. It doesn't matter if I am 10,000 miles or 3,000 miles or 1,  I'm still RIGHT there where I was NO MATTER how long ago it was that the memory was created. 
I mean, for heavens sake I remember dancing the Macarena with the neighbor boy from across the street when I was four. He was handsome. And also I'm pretty sure much older than me, probably not actually in love with me and just humoring the poor neighbor girl with the unusually large head. 
I remember what I said and how I felt at my eighth grade and high school graduations when those respective 'songs' were playing. Ok so maybe I remember the high school one because it was particularly embarrassing. I'm talking like extremely painful completely out of control but we are SO not getting into that in this post.
Whether or not I am quick to skip a track or turn it up depends on who likes or dislikes a song. If a person I do not like loves a song, I am sure to skip it because by golly I don't like that person why on earth would I listen to one of their favorite songs? I acknowledge that I let it have too much control over my music choices. 
Music- it's a powerful thing, and I for one need to be careful about what I allow it to do to my mind. 

Not about love.

Paris. Oui oui oui I was blessed enough to have visited Paris, France. What a fantastic way to wrap up what was literally the worst year of my life. Praise to God that I have slowly been able to begin crawling out the hole of depression I fell into. Paris was amazing (I picked up a serious illness in Paris that I think is now out my system finally, but we're not gonna talk about that today) and I loved to experience that with just my immediate family. I won't go into the details of Paris, for fear of sounding like another spoiled rich white kid (ok maybe I am a bit), but I do want to talk about a realization I had out there.

So here we go. 

Whilst we were in that city, the girls wanted to go shopping. Because, well, Paris...I guess, right? Some of my readers may know that I do not enjoy shopping. I'd much rather sit in a warm coffee shop having a deep conversation with the person sitting across from me. In fact, I'd rather do that then most any thing in life if I'm being completely honest. Needless to say, I tried to stick with the men during these sprees. As one of the shopping runs was coming to a close, my dad makes a comment about how some guy is gonna think he hit the jackpot with me, a girl that would rather NOT shop. 

It all started in junior high. My group of friends seemed to think that an afternoon at the mall was fun. Hmm, ok I thought, this is new, but if this is what girls do, I guess I can go a long with them and have fun. I don't remember too much from my junior high days, just because I have tried too hard to forget it. So let's fast forward to high school....

My best friend in high school LOVED to shop. And she STILL does, bless her heart. I'm convinced she thinks that my particular body type is WASTED on me because I hate to play that fashion game and shopping and dressing up. I remember one time I let it slip that I needed a fancy skirt for interviews coming up and that opened some kind of can of worms. Except these worms were pencil skirts. Really tight and inevitably short pencil skirts. She almost died of happiness as I awkwardly tried the first few on. My confidence slowly grew in the days after she bought me one. The first time I wore that skirt I'm pretty sure I saw some jaws literally drop. Silly boys. Thanks girl. 

Shopping isn't limited to girls, however. I remember one shopping trip I took with my guy friends seemed to last way too long for my liking, even if it was toys-r-us. But I got to wield some foam weapons and beat on them so I guess it might have been worth it. 

I know I'm not the only one of my kind, please let me know if you too are a female non-shopper.  My friends know that I have a time limit to how long I'm going to last before I start acting like a hungry tired  five year old. I'm the girl that sits on the bench outside the dressing rooms with the boyfriends. I hold the purses, or the accessories that need not be brought into the changing room. I am always the designated "boyfriend" in the shopping relationship and I'm ok with that, I have accepted my role and I thrive in it. But I'd like to think there's some one else out there like me.  

But do not think that I do not have my moments. When there is an article of clothing that I need or dare say - DESIRE - I will go shopping.. For example, last weekend. I couldn't take it any longer. I have the shorts, I have the visors, I needed the fanny pack. So I bought three. Yes, I went shopping, of my own will.  I know, try not to yelp. 

The endless aisles and racks of clothes bore me. Trudging around the shops grabbing everything that may look decent on me drains me of all my energy. Watching YOU do the same is just as bad. If I want to be with you, I will go shopping with you, if that is what it takes to be with you. But please, replenish some of that energy by talking with me over a cup of coffee or lunch. Stay up until 1 with me talking about, just....life I guess. I realized the people left in my life are good at that - and for that I am forever grateful. Dearest friends, thank you for loving me and my little quirks. Dearest of friends, I love you.

Happy Valentines Day.

I Run

Ok. so Taylor dropped an album about a month ago (ay ay ay). As a good cookie cutter white girl, you all HAD to know this post was coming. ACTUALLY, this post is like the most spur of the moment I've done in a while. Those often turn out to be my best posts. So we will see, maybe starting off with telling you about the new Swiftie cd was a weak start, maybe I've already lost half of my readers.

Well I have been thinking a lot about boys, because, whether or not I like it, some boys have had quite an influence. I'm just gonna shake it off. Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break.

I do tend to run. I run when I can't handle boy things.

So let me take you through a journey. We'll call it 'exhibit A.' Most of my coworkers will not be surprised when I say I was more than a little bit infatuated with the night manager at my latest job. I use the word infatuated because I was completely aware that we were not compatible on basically any level, and I say 'more than a little bit' because I worked late nights and did not have much else to occupy my mind. I won't describe the nature of our relationship not because it was scandalous, but because I tend to have very awkward, difficult-to-explain relationships of ANY kind with boys I fancy. Basically it's just not worth mentioning, and yet HERE I AM.

The context of this story is that I was leaving. I was leaving my amazing coworkers because I was leaving the state. I was moving across the country for...for many reasons. Bad coworkers were NOT one of those reasons. 
So this was literally the last time I am ever gonna see this guy in my whole life. The interaction went splendidly.
 I sheepishly approach him, he's dutifully doing his job, stocking shelves or something manly like that. He had his dolly-cart with him. (I call it that because I don't know what else to call it: but it's important to note that it had a bar to push it)
So we said our goodbyes, which were less awkward than I thought they would be, he even gave me a hug. A nice hug too. Hugs mean a lot to me because well, I'm a hugger, and I'm also tall, which can make hugging a challenge at times.
 This was not one of those times, the mans taller than me. 
Well, maybe.
 Also maybe this hug wasn't a good idea because it got me even more nervous. We begin to walk down the [bread] aisle together (wow that escalated right?), and as he's pushing his dolly, I place my hand on the bar as well. I do this because, you know, it's occupying both our walking space, and we are walking and talking together, casually, super casually and I'm so smooth. Moments like these hand placement is everything, but I was trying way too hard to be so casual that I accidentally place my hand DIRECTLY on top of his hand that's pushing the dolly. This is when all my smoothness is thrown out the window and my mind bursts. From what I can remember, I stuttered out a breathy apology and started RUNNING. I bolted, no doubt in front of the dolly as he's pushing it. I think, I THINK, I sought solace in my female coworker. And by seeking solace I mean I ran to her as fast as I could from where I was with the man, and 'hid' behind her, disregarding the fact I'm about 7 inches taller than her. That's the story of how I never became the salt to his pepper.  

This concludes exhibit A. I have a feeling that I've already shared this in one of my posts, so sorry if you just had to read it twice.
I have many other examples like this, but I am not super eager to prove my point further. Because the point is just that I run. They are the hunters we are the foxes. And we run. Except there is not we. There is just a me. I run. I always run.

I ran.

So here I am, exactly one month from returning to the States. I am fully aware upon my arrival, break time is over. I am unemployed and currently seeking work in my area, a tiresome phrase.

As far as my emotional and mental state go, I have good days and bad days but the good days are outweighing the bad. Three months ago, I would have said the opposite.

On the good days I am excited to go back and start over in Florida. I'm excited to be a part of my family there. I have an opportunity to be a cousin, niece, granddaughter, and "aunty" to a whole set of people I've always just known OF my whole life.

 On bad days I hate that I called it quits in California and I wish - with everything in me - that I could have taken the bad with all the good. I hate that I had to leave the ones that it was all working with. It honestly keeps me up at night (it's midnight while I'm writing this) and causes my heart so much grief. I constantly think "oh gosh if I could just have gotten over myself it could have been so good"
Yes, it could have.
 I have to accept that I wasn't strong enough. Some day I might be, and when that day arrives, I will know what to do.

I hope to reach a point when I can look back not with sadness for things lost but with joy for what has been. Some day, but we are not out of the woods yet.

The terrifying journey

Yes, I'm talking about driving in a third world country. I know that it is not limited to the country I am in as I can not imagine that there are not a hundred other countries with drivers as crazy as they are out here. "Third-world" or not, I acknowledge the fact that I am not alone.
This year is my third time out here, so I knew what to expect. The first time I visited my family had only been here nine months and so they rather expected for me to be shocked. By the next year, however, they were completely unaccustomed to the "normal" way of driving, as they had fully adopted the new normal. All this means is that when I would gasp and shriek as we were driving a long they whipped their head around to me, perturbed at my outburst. It took them some time to realize that I was not used to what I was seeing and experiencing on the roads of this crazy big city they live in. By my third visit (my time here now) I've learned to keep my mouth shut for the most part. That is until now.
I've quickly discovered how much lanes are taken for granted in the States. Here, lanes are guidelines here. No, actually, lanes are just laughable pointless lines on the road. There is no such thing as a safe lane change here, because you kind of just drift from one side of the road to the other, if your bumper is ahead of theirs, you have the right of way. If you're on the losing end, you better move out the way or else you will get bumped out of the way and cursed at while doing so.
Now I will talk about intersections. All intersections, slow or busy in America have stop lights, turning lanes, even lights for turning lanes, and you have to be stupid to not know which lane you are suppose to be turning into. Here you have to be stupid to think you know which lane you will be turning into, or even from. You have to turn left, but you are in the far right lane of a three, four car wide street? No problem, DO AS YOU PLEASE! I live in a huge metropolis, so I can't say what it is like in the more rural areas of the region. We do have busy intersections with adequate stop lights. However, if the intersecting crossroads are in any way NOT major, it's a free for all. How do you turn then? Well, you drive out IN TO THE MIDDLE OF TRAFFIC, and wait. If it's possible, you may try to keep out of the way of oncoming traffic, from both your front and your back, but if that's not an option, well then it's not an option and traffic must go around you or stop until oncoming cars lend you an opportunity to make your desired turn.
Trucks and buses terrify me in the States. Why? Well, for starters I do not like things being bigger than me. That includes people too, if I'm being honest. Then take the fact that I do not enjoy driving, and the idea of the automobile is kind of scary to me. How many tons of machinery driving HOW FAST? Well, trucks and buses here follow the same rules as all cars: there are no rules. In fact, there's only one rule for class C drivers out here, and that is that when you see a bus or a truck YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY. All you can do is pray that you are not in their blind spot when they decide to turn, merge, or swerve just to give the common man a jolt. They reign supreme on the wild streets of this city and they know it.
Drivers. Now I must tread lightly on this ground. Why? Because I understand that people who drive in this country are reading this. Take what you are about to read with this in mind: I have and will only ever be a passenger in this country. I will never trust myself enough to drive in this country. I do not wish to invalidate any ones skill as a driver in these parts. Crazy as they may be, in some odd way they are probably some of the best drivers I know. Why? Because driving here is A WAR ZONE. I respect the struggle, but I do not wish to join it, because as I said before, they are crazy. It's every man for himself out their and every one insane enough to get on the road knows it. Defensive drivers are non existent.
My favorite part about drivers here is just one hand gesture. What is it? Well, they simply raise their open palmed hand in the air. This? This pardons all wrong doing. Someone is cutting you off at the round about? No worries, they raised their hand. All is forgiven. A moped is driving down the highway the wrong way? Hand up? It's forgotten. Pedestrians join this game too! They weave their way through traffic the same as cars. You're about to hit the gas but someone steps out right in front of you. Well they've not only raised their hand but placed the other one on their chest, this basically means you two are chums now. Like you've shared some sort of experience and the bond can not be broken. He crosses safely to the other side and you have the illusion that you have a new best friend. Forget the fact that you almost killed him and he's totally at fault. Crosswalks exist but the value of them should, at this point of my post, be understood.
As fast as my heart has beat and as sweaty as I may get just being an eternal passenger in this crazy city I would not change this experience for anything. I am just about halfway through my extended stay here, and I'm still alive and uninjured. Lord willing the next two months, I will not have to recant this testimony. 

Permission to live

I was 21 and 1/2 when I graduated college. I'd been in school since I could walk (almost literally I was a very late walker, some of you aren't surprised. Most of you aren't surprised.) What this means is that up until 21 years of age I have had people telling me what to do. I had a set of boundaries put up either by myself or by others that, as long as I operated within those boundaries, I could do any thing. School, classes, schedule. That was my life. That's what it was built around for me. This may sound silly to those of you who know I was not a very good student and only really enjoyed the social aspect of school. But at least when people asked me what I was doing with my life I could say with confidence "oh, I'm a student." That's always been my identity. 
So here I am, a year and a half after closing the chapter in my life called "formal studies". Now what? CAN SOME ONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT I AM SUPPOSE TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE? Right now I'm living with my parents again, jobless, hoping to gain an answer to that question. As students, we have it pounded into our head that a high paying or fulfilling career is what we must do with our lives. Ok teachers and grad students, please don't get your panties in a bunch. I know I'm not the only one who feels like this is the standard set for me as a college grad. Just let me have my say. 
What about those of us who'd rather jump off a bridge than enroll in another semester of classes and spend another hundred dollars on books that the teacher may or may not use? What about those of us who did not "hear" the "calling"? What about those of us who do not feel drawn to a certain "career"? What about those of us who aren't even sure of all the gifts and talents we possess? What about us? What about me?
I can't speak for every one but I'm certainly going to speak for me. No one on this earth can tell me what the standards are that I need to be living by. I plan on spending the rest of my life, my time (back in my parents house)here included, finding what makes me fulfilled. I set my goals. My life is going to look different than any body else, because, just like you, I'm an individual. I may not have any of the answers I want right now, but I'm only 23. So this is me ridding myself of the people that tell me  I am worth less than what I am. This is me shaking off the lies, the false standards, breaking the walls, ready to live my life. 

I'll be the first to say that I've been a whiny spoiled little brat but the jokes over. It's not cute or funny any more. It never was. It's lame and stupid. Sure sometimes life sucks and it was rough, but that's the past. I plan on returning to my new home at the start of the new year, hitting the ground running, or walking, if that's what I choose. But it is after all, MY choice. I plan on using this time and distance to gain objectivity and a better perspective. I hope to transform the negatives to positives. The search for my purpose and my identity continues. It is intimidating but also new and exciting. 

Why

There are some people in this world who relocate destination oriented (leaving strictly for bigger and better things) and there are some who relocate because they must leave something behind (escaping...unpleasantries). There's a bit of a build up here because you must understand my frame of mind if you are going to understand the rest of this post. I fall into both sides of this "relocation spectrum" [i don't know if spectrum is the correct word exactly but I hope you get it]. There's a lot that I am going to have to leave out of this post, but it's my blog and I am the writer and editor so deal. And just because I leave it out does not mean it's not playing a major part in my decision making. 

One more topic I must preface this with is that I am independent. I believe I am independent in the truest sense of the word. Right now I've been holding down a "nine to five" job [3-12 job for those who know me] for about a year. I clock in and clock out and I do NOT have to bring my job home with me. No strings attached there. I have no boyfriend, husband, or kids. I debated just now whether to "get in" to the details of the topic of "boys" but I would not be able to stop so I'm going to try to breeze by this and keep going, and maybe hit that  point later. I have minimal commitments in serving, at church and in the community, some by choice, some not. [As of late I see how this has been a good thing as I am about to leave but another part of me knows that I am afraid of commitment because that means I would have to stay] Not too many strings attached there. I've got no strings on me I'm feeling fancy free. Except that I'm not. I am not sure if my resisting these strings has been a good thing (can we say twenty something with a fear of commitment, I'm a cookie cutter, really). With me I know the possibilities are endless, nothing is permanent and even though I can't wait to get out of here, if it's God's will to bring me back here, well then that's still on the table (I've learned to never say never because that's exactly how I ended up back here). I know that even as I write this God could still put something in my path that changes all my plans. That's just where I'm at right now, everything is temporary, nothing is settled.

So enough of that, here we go. 

Destination oriented: 

1) My two younger siblings were both quite young when I up and left for college, and they were not much older when  they moved overseas. So I am ceasing this opportunity to spend at least a few months actually being their big sister. I am excited to see the people they are becoming.

~~For those who do not know, my tentative plan is to finish out the remainder of the year (August through at least December) with my parents, sisters and brother overseas. Upon my return to the States, I have some family on the East Coast I plan to live with. 'Tentative' is a very important word when used in the same sentence as 'plan' in my life, because if you have not noticed by now I really have no idea what direction my life is taking. It's a rather exhausting place to be in life. ~~

2) Living back in my parents household is not going to be easy as I have been out from under their roof for quite a few years now. I know also that adult children at home is especially tricky when those parents are still in the process of raising two other children. This being said, I know it's going to be a growing opportunity for me. I know the Lord has blessed me with two of the wisest people as parents and I am excited to have them physically present to speak into my life again. And also hugs. You don't understand the value of parental hugging until you go a full year without it. Don't pretend like you know my struggle.

3) The world. I have been blessed in being born into somewhat of an international family. A family that knows there is a world beyond the borders of the county. I am so excited to see the world. I am excited to spend some time, no matter how long that may or may not be, in another country, on a different continent. Even with the language barrier, I have been raised to know how vital it is to experience other cultures. With a family lineage like mine, how can I not travel? That's not to say that my unsettled state might not get tiresome some time from now. Like I said, nothing in my life is really permanent. And I'm not saying my family's way is the only way. Maybe some sense of regional stability rooted in my family would have done me some good, who knows? (inquirers get lost somewhere between England, Ethiopia, Morocco, and Santa Barbara. So i don't know if you really want to know about my family)

Leaving behind:

1) This thing that I can't even talk about.. I wish I could say that I was in a different place in my attitude towards all of "this" but I'm not. Most everyone would scoff at my continual struggle with any of this - on any level - this far down the road. But, I am not most people and this is an extremely difficult situation that I have allowed myself to continue in for much (x 1000000000) too long and I'm emotionally drained, to put it lightly. My fragile naive hurting little heart, unfortunately, has never known what a white flag is so I can't even pretend to know what "surrender" is going to look like in this current (yes, current) situation. I'm afraid that's all I can write on the matter. Pray for me.

2) Insecurities. Insecurities that stem from hurt that I was never able to process or deal with. Don't get me wrong, I am more than grateful for everything EVERYONE here has done for me not only this past year but my whole life. I am so blown away by the beauty of some hearts I've come to know this last year. On the real, there's a select PRECIOUS few that I WILL cry over having to leave behind. MOST people the Lord has put in my life during my stay have done EVERY THING they could to love and accept me. But for me (with some), it was just never enough and I realize now it's never going to be enough and that is not healthy. I tend to blame myself because my affections (not boy-affections, just general) were misplaced. My expectation of what certain relationships needed to look like were not reality and will never be reality. I realize that now; I also realize that insecurity is personal and no one else is truly to blame. Whatever was meant to be has been. If I do not find security in what really matters, then these same insecurities will be waiting for me no matter where I am. It's time now for me to step out of my current situation, there's nothing more I'm expecting to gain. 

3) Debt. Right at this moment the hurt is so real that it is difficult for me to see the lessons the Lord has been teaching me in my time back. So I'm going to focus on the practical positives of what I have done in my time here. I HAVE PAID OFF MY STUDENT LOANS IN FULL. My final check posted about one month after my one year graduation anniversary. I know how monumental this is but it has not sunk in yet and I don't think it truly will until get out there to explore all the doors that are NOT closed on me BECAUSE I am debt free. What I am leaving behind a LABORIOUS job that has allowed me to knock out my loans quickly. The biggest blessing in the cruelest disguise. I worked at a tiny grocery store. I do not hesitate leaving this job but I do hesitate leaving the community. The way I was able to bless and be blessed by some of my regulars is something I'll carry with me my entire life. The same and more can be said about my coworkers. I am going to miss SO MUCH all the amazing, broken, beautiful people, just like me - that I had the pleasure of working alongside. 

I'll be 23 at the end of the summer.  My 22nd year of life is not something that I would repeat EVEN IF YOU PROMISED ME A LIFETIME OF HAPPINESS WITH A DANCING DARK MOCHA BOY WITH DIMPLES. Well, maybe if he had dimples, when it comes to dimples I just can't. Anyway I hope to one day look back on this year of life and NOT cringe and be able to look past all the bad that happened and just look at the gold nuggets. Right now however, I am not feeling 22, not in any way. Sorry Taylor. Go away. No don't tswift you're an inspiration to tall girls everywhere I kind of love you.

In conclusion, I do not want this to come across as me being a whiny unsatisfied brat who does not see everything I have been given since moving back. I want to just thank everyone who has worked overtime to make sure I did not completely lose it, and who made sure I was well loved and fed on any holiday and any days in between. I am looking forward to bigger and better things which as of this moment I KNOW can not be found here. This place will always be home, and when all is said and done, and in the grand scheme of my life I know it will be only good times remembered.