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Life’s Feeling 

Guys, I’ve been honest on here before. I haven’t hesitated to talk about my heartbreak, my feelings of inadequacy, my fear of not knowing what I want to do with my life, and anything and everything in between. But, this post may be my most vulnerable yet. It may be one that I regret writing, but, it’s on my mind and in my fingers so, here goes nothing.

I’ve been trying so hard recently to be happy. In a way, I’m the happiest I’ve been since I started college. Switching my major gave me a feeling of happiness I haven’t had since I stepped foot into my intro Old Testament class day one of freshmen year. But, I’m also not happy. Because guys, if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I’m not really anything. And I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but, right now, my world doesn’t make a lot of sense.

I’m exhausted. I’m physically exhausted. The short nights and long days are finally starting to wear me out. The 5 hours of nonstop work every other day piled on top of classes and homework is finally starting to physically drain me. I have knots the size of boulders in my neck and shoulders and back. My feet constantly feel like I’m walking on rocks, like they are permanently bruised inside my shoes. My lungs sometimes get tired of taking in air, and, as an asthmatic who already struggles enough to take in air, that proves to be an issue. More often than not, my brain gets foggy and is no longer able to function properly. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even want to think about drinking coffee. Not that I’m going to stop, because it’s my life source, but I would just so much rather have real sleep, consistently, for days in a row, that the thought of drinking coffee is, quite honestly, a bit repulsive. I’ve had migraines that my usual tricks don’t cure– worse migraines than I’ve ever had before in my entire life. Migraines so bad that I literally cannot think. Like my own thoughts hurt my head. And, I can’t study because every time I try to read, I’ll see the letters on the page in an arrangement that makes something that should be a word, but my brain will literally not understand what the word is or recognize it. A few days ago, I came back to my room before chapel, sat on my bed, told myself I should get up for chapel, and then just sat there. For an hour. And then, I closed my eyes and decided I’d try to sleep. Because I was so tired, but I couldn’t actually sleep. When my roommate came in, I couldn’t even open my eyes it hurt so much. And her voice hurt but I didn’t have the energy to say anything. But, I’ve got things to do so I take my vitamins, take some pain relievers, drink a lot of water, eat well, and sleep when I can.

I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve always been an extroverted introvert who loves time to herself but also doesn’t mind hanging out with other friends, in small capacities. However, recently, it’s taken a lot of emotional energy for me to do anything. Sometimes, I have to leave class to go to the bathroom just so I can be alone for a minute. I lock myself in, with just my thoughts, and stay there for a few minutes–until it gets to be a length of time that seems unreasonable for a bathroom trip–when I force myself to snap out of it and return to civilization. I do the same thing with my roommate. We’ll be sitting in the room, not talking, just enjoying our own thoughts, doing our own thing, and I’ll leave to go to the bathroom–just to be alone. Getting out of bed for class is a daily struggle (when is it not?) It’s not aided by the fact that the professor of my 8am gives us no reason to show up at all– attendance has no bearing on our grade, and the way he grades makes it possible to show up to very few classes and still pass. Just this morning I got out of bed and got back in it 3 times before finally deciding I should go to class. I’ll sit in the lounge at the end of my hallway and do my homework, so I can say hi to people and chat a little– be present– but I’m never actually present. Even Quizzing, the one thing that has always emotionally stimulated me– the one place I’ve always been an extrovert and not felt emotionally drained by the end– has taken so much of my energy. I have come so close to actually getting mad at the Quizzers. And I love Quizzing and the Quizzers– I rarely get to a point where I’m angry at them, or at least angry enough to get mad And I know they can tell there’s been a change in my personality. I am normally the fun, patient, excitable Quizmaster, and suddenly I’ve become the exhausted, annoyed, “no fun allowed” Quizmaster– and I don’t like it, but I don’t have the energy to pretend I have the energy. I was playing a game with my family, and about 2 or 3 turns in, I was just tired of being there and playing the game– a game I’ve always loved with people I love even more. But, I go to class, talk to my friends, and fight my way through my non desire to be around people– faking it until I make it.

I have even begun to feel a little bit spiritually exhausted too. I go to church, I help teach the 7th grade girls’ Sunday school ( I even bring up some great points and say some cool things), I coach Quizzing, I pray, I read my Bible. And yet, I feel like God is further away now then He has ever been. It’s not because He is, or because I’ve stopped trying to seek Him. It’s because I’m exhausted and I feel like He’s unreachable. He’s always felt close– like I could reach out at any time and touch Him. And now, every time I reach out, I know He’s there, but I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel any different. It kind of hurts to try because I feel like it’s taking so much of my energy to reach out to Him for me not to feel Him. He might as well be a photon of light because I know He’s there, I can see Him, I can feel Him, but every time I reach out to touch Him, it’s like He isn’t as close and as tangible as I thought. But, I read my Bible, reach out, pray, and practically beg God to take whatever burdens I have that are keeping me from seeking Him so that I can seek Him.

I have lost what little motivation I had just a week ago. I have a huge Organic Chemistry test coming up tomorrow and I haven’t really started studying. But, I also don’t really care. I know nothing, but I don’t feel stressed or motivated to learn anything. I have an 8 page paper for a class that, just a week ago, I was beyond excited to write. And now, it just seems like another paper I’m going to force my way through and probably start two days before it’s due– miserably writing every word. I’ve never loved going to work or really looked forward to it, but recently, I’ve been dreading it. I’ve been trying to come up with reasons why I just can’t show up that day. And, on days when I have a legitimate reason I can’t show up, I still feel guilty when I call in, but yet, on every other day I try to find reasons I can’t come in. But, nonetheless, I do my homework, albeit rather miserably, and, for the most part, show up to work and do my job– at least trying to have a positive attitude.

Even now, it’s 1 am while I’m writing this, and I have homework I should be doing, but I don’t really care. I’m just sitting here, typing two or three words a minute between staring out the dark window and scrolling through social media– mindlessly liking random Instagram pictures because it’s been a few posts since I’ve hit the like button. I haven’t really felt anything but nothing recently. Not the stress I know I should be feeling due to the next 2 weeks being the most stressful of my life. Not the excitement and anticipation I usually feel days before an upcoming Quiz meet. Nothing. Just some physical aches and pains and some overall fogginess. It’s weird, and I can’t explain it.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t hugged any adorable little kids in a while or pet any cute little puppies. Maybe it’s because I have a strange case of senioritis that only affects non-seniors. Maybe I’m dying from some incurable, deadly disease. I don’t really know. But I know that I’m trying my best. And that’s the best I can do.

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Major Life Update 

I’ve always been a stubborn person with a “fight through it” attitude and a strong intention to follow through with everything I commit to. I remember when I was little, my parents would put a baby gate in front of the staircase. And I, being the stubborn and determined child I was, would promptly push it out of the way and climb up the stairs. Then, I would sit at the top whining because I couldn’t get down. I’d wait for someone to come get me, and then proceed to do it again, all the while knowing I couldn’t get down by myself, but totally not caring because I just wanted to prove I could get up the stairs. And I was too stubborn to stop crawling up them just because I couldn’t get down them.

My life has been a lot like this. I’ve climbed mountains, gotten to the top, realized that I probably shouldn’t have climbed the mountain, but had no idea how to get down. Except now that I’m older, I’m too stubborn to ask for help getting down. Because if I climbed the mountain alone, I should be able to get down it alone. But sometimes, I know the way down, I just need someone to give me a little push. And recently, I was given a push down my newest mountain.

When I began this semester, I was signed up for 18 class credits, two of which were sciences, and one of which included Organic Chemistry, arguably the most difficult of all the sciences. And, somewhere along the way, I ended up committing to between 12 and 18 hours of work a week. Plus, I coach Bible Quizzing and agreed to be an assistant teacher in the 7th grade girls Sunday School class at my church. And of course, I have various clubs, social activities, chapel requirements, etc, that I must attend to as a college student. (A post about that can be read here.)

This has always been my mountain in life– my desire to do it all. I so badly want to do everything. I want to get a degree in Chemistry, coach Quizzing, work, teach Sunday School, participate in clubs, volunteer around campus, help my friends out, and sleep. But guys, the biggest thing I’m learning in life, is that I just can’t do it all. I have to say no to good things because I need to leave myself free time for the best things. But, because I’m stubborn, I decided to give this 18 credit hours piled on top of 16 hours of work mixed with hours of everything else thing a chance.

It wasn’t terrible for a while. I managed to get most of my work done and still get mostly enough sleep. But, I can only survive on 5 or less hours of sleep a night for so long before I crack. The more I got into the semester, the more miserable I got. I was sitting in the lounge of my dorm one night, alternating between my physics and organic homework, and I was miserable. Really miserable. I had never felt this miserable, and I didn’t even think I ever could feel this miserable doing something I loved. Days later, I cracked. I called my dad at 12:15 in the morning in tears. “I’m dropping out of college, just to let you know,” I said, tears streaming down my face. My dad listened, despite the fact that he himself was exhausted, and he provided support and fatherly love. After he told me not to be ridiculous for trying to drop out of college.

The internal conflict I had been having for a while mixed with all the stress finally built up to an unbearable amount. After some of my gen ed classes last semester, I discovered I had a passion for God’s Word greater than the one I already knew I had, and I knew God was calling me to do something about it. But, I wasn’t going to change my major because I still loved chemistry so much. So, I did what I thought would satisfy the passion I had and the desire I could feel God calling me to: I added a Biblical studies minor. As a result, I added an extra class, bringing me to 18 credits a semester.

And I said, “it’s fine,” everyday, while trying to convince myself it was, in fact, fine. But, in case you haven’t figured out by now, it most certainly was not fine. Which is why I called my dad in tears and told him I was dropping out of college.

One terrible day and dinner visit home later, and I felt so much better. I felt peaceful, like the largest weight in the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Which brings me to the purpose of this post– my major life update. This update is actually two-fold. First, I decided I had to give something up. I can’t do it all, as much as I want to. As much as I love it all and struggle to say no to things, especially things I’ve already committed to, something had to give.

I was talking to my parents about what could go. My dad said, “were you anyone else, I’d tell you to drop Sunday School or Quizzing…”

“NO!” I exclaimed, before he was even able to finish his thought.

He explained how he would have told me to give those up, but he can’t because I have to do those things. I belong there, I’m doing good things, God’s working through me, etc. So, I couldn’t give up on those. And my work schedule had already begun to decrease, and it would continue to decrease. Nonetheless, something else had to go. Which left a class. But here’s the thing– I didn’t want to give one of those up either. Because, first of all, why should my academics be the thing that gets pushed aside? And secondly, dropping a class at this point in the semester seemed useless. Plus, I’d always been a “smart” kid, and dropping a class kind of made me feel like I was a failure. (But guys, dropping a class does not make you a failure. You do what is necessary for your sanity.)

I finally came to the realization that the best way to solve my problem would be to drop Physics. Here’s the thing– Physics is not that difficult of a class. In fact, it may be the easiest of the sciences I’ll ever have to take. But, I don’t have time to put into it, and I was already behind and struggling, and my other classes, particularly Organic, were suffering because of it. So, I set up a meeting with my adviser to get his approval and dropped Physics.

Which leads me to part two of my major life update. While discussing my life with my parents, they asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I froze and realized I have no idea. My friend asked me the other day what I saw myself doing in the future, and I didn’t know how to respond then either. My parents brought up the fact that I like to do it all. I enjoy a lot of things. I love science, math, English, Scripture, history, and most of all, learning. My dad said “I could see you doing a lot of things. I could see you working a job, or being a Pastor (as if being a Pastor isn’t a job).” And the more I thought about it, the more I realized, there are so many things in life I could be happy doing. I’d be happy working in a lab, working at a church, travelling the world doing who knows what, or even teaching. And, to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure that I’ll know what I want to do until I am doing it.

So, here’s the exciting part of my news– I’m seriously, seriously, considering changing my major. In fact, I’ve done everything but fill out the official paperwork. I’ve told my parents (well, actually, they told me), I’ve told my friends, I’ve mentioned it to my adviser, and now, I’m telling all of you.

Some of you will be disappointed to hear that I’m switching from Chemistry. Because those of you who’ve known me a long time know I love Chemistry. Others will be disappointed to find out that I am not switching to Biblical Studies. Because anyone who’s seen me at Quizzing or talked to me in the past year would know that I have a burning passion for that too. But, instead, I’m still trying to do it all. I’m switching to Cross Disciplinary studies.

I have not yet decided exactly what 3 areas I’ll be exploring. My main area will either be Chemistry or General Science (probably whichever one I’m closer to completing at this point), with one of my other concentrations being Biblical Studies. As far as the third area goes, I’m torn between math and English. Being my sister’s sister and grandfather’s granddaughter, I love English (and math). I love writing and reading various types of literature, but I am also only one class away from completing math (in fact, if I continued with my Chemistry degree, than I could easily get a math minor with one simple 300-level math class).

So, basically, I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea what I”m doing with my degree, or my life. But, it’s fine. And I mean it this time, because I’ve got God on my team, and God, being my homeboy and all, knows exactly what He’s doing.

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Finding The Love of my Life

This is not another post about how being a Quizzer impacted my life, (or at least not exactly). However, if you would like to read some of those posts, (and/or posts about my Kenya trip and its impact on my life) those can be found here. This is a reflection on my first year not being a Quizzer. Because it was more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.

Honestly, I was a bit doubtful about coaching after I graduated, but I had promised the Quizzers– two in particular– that I would come back and help them get to the next level. The more I thought about it, however, the more I thought I couldn’t do it. How could I help these Quizzers compete well and reach their dreams of winning the Alpha and Omega when I couldn’t even do it myself? I mean, my study strategies included memorizing all 4 chapters the night before a tournament and not prejumping questions because, quite honestly, I was terrified of taking chances. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was a good Quizzer. I may have even been great– I was consistently top 15 in the nation for my division all 7 years I quizzed– but, I was never an Alpha and Omega winner or a national individual finalist, and give these kids a year or two and they could easily out Quiz me.  So, I doubted that I’d ever be able to help them reach their goals. And, I didn’t think I’d make a good Quizmaster. I thought I’d be too harsh, or too nice, or that I wouldn’t be comfortable enough or confident enough in myself to do a good job. I didn’t think I’d be an effective, or even a good, Quizmaster. I wasn’t sure where my place in this family I had found 7 years ago would be, and I was terrified I wouldn’t have one. But, I never imagined I’d feel even more at home as a Quizmaster and coach than I did as a Quizzer.

The things I love the most about Quizmastering and coaching are the same ones I loved as a Quizzer, but they are so much more beautiful viewing them from the other side of the table. I love watching the joy on the Quizzers’ faces when they win a Quiz. The excitement mixed with disbelief when they answer a question correctly for the first time or quiz out for the first, or even the 50th, time. When they’re excited, my heart is filled with joy. When they’re sad, I break inside. And, as much as I love my church and our Quizzers, I view every single Quizzer I have ever Quizmastered or coached as my Quizzer. My friend. My little brother and sister. And I love them all so much. My heart fills with love and joy when I see them come into my room excited and smiling. “Hi, fun Quizmaster!” they say with bright smiles, as they reach for a piece of candy, a high five, or a hug. The sadness on their faces when they find out I won’t be Quizmastering them that day, or when they realize they won’t be in my division the next year, breaks my heart. I love being able to watch them grow up over the years, and even over the course of a year.  I am so incredibly proud of them– every time they answer a question, get a prejump, win an award, or have a fun time. When New Hope won the Alpha and Omega, I felt that I had won it myself. When other Genesis Conference Quizzers succeeded in finals, or their teams won, I was beyond joyful. When the Pearce teams did well, I felt their joy and their heartbreak in their losses. And, when the ones I’ve Quizmastered all year, or even all week, accomplished something, I couldn’t wait to give them a high five and tell them how proud of them I was, even after they eliminated Pearce from the tournament. And I am filled with joy because I know that they are committing themselves to learning the Word, and they will become servants of God, thoroughly equipped for every good work. And that is what Quizzing is really all about.

That’s why I continue to help with Quizzing and can’t imagine walking away. It’s watching the Quizzers discover who they are. It’s giving back to a ministry that has given me so much– a ministry that has impacted, and in some cases even saved, so many lives. It’s watching these incredible young people learn and memorize the Word, knowing that will lead them to amazing places. It’s hanging out with them and writing ridiculous stories that make no sense, three words at a time. It’s reading the longest joke in the world every time we go on a long road trip. It’s listening to the testimony of a shy, quiet young rookie who said she was so glad her mom made her do Quizzing because she was so excited and impacted by it. It’s hugging the young Quizzer who’s sitting behind you, whom you’ve coached, Quizmastered, and quizzed with, when he breaks down in tears. It’s kneeling at the altar with your teammates, friends, and Quizzers. Hugging them all as you leave. Talking to a Quizzer who knows your name and your story, even if you didn’t think anyone knew who you were or remembered your story. Finding a group of girls, from all different churches, praying for each other, and going over to pray with and for them, as a coach, Quizmaster, former fellow Quizzer, and most importantly a friend. Feeling incredibly honored when young Quizzers ask for your autograph and do a cool handshake with you. Offering the Quizzers a high five, a “great try,” and a piece of candy. It’s about finding your best friends, who live next door, or who live hundreds of miles away– whether they’re 12, 22, or 52.  It’s about igniting a passion for God and His Word that you didn’t even know you were capable of having.

It wasn’t until I went to Kenya and experienced Quizzing there that I realized just how important Quizzing really is. It wasn’t until the charge given to us at the coaches’ meeting to expand Quizzing to our neighboring churches, whether Free Methodist or not, and I almost stood up and said “Send me anywhere and everywhere. I’ll do it.” that I realized how huge my passion was. And, now, here I am, hoping to spread that passion to others. In fact, I am seriously considering and praying about going back to Kenya next summer, and all your prayers for me in this process would be greatly appreciated too. But, honestly, I’m just hoping to spread my passion to anyone who’s willing to catch it.

And that is what I have learned the most this year about being a Quizmaster and coach. I may have been terrified of messing up, I may not have been confident enough in my abilities, I may have thought I wouldn’t be good enough, or I may have thought I’m too much of an introvert to be a good Quizmaster. But, I have learned that anyone can be a good Quizmaster. Anyone can read questions in a loud, clear voice, look up the passages in the portion, and make a wise and fair decision about whether or not an answer is correct and worthy of 2o points. Anyone can know the rules– when to re-read, when to throw the question out, and how to handle appeals. Anyone can say “that’s correct,” or, “I’m sorry I cannot accept that.” But, not everyone is an effective Quizmaster. Not everyone can make the Quizzers feel comfortable. Not everyone can make Quizzing fun, keep the quizzes moving, be encouraging, and take control but also not be intimidating. And that’s what makes an effective Quizmaster. I don’t know if I am an effective Quizmaster or not– I’d like to think I am. I mean, I’ve been told I’m the fun Quizmaster. Coaches and Quizzers have told me that I have done a good job and have made Quizzing fun. The top Quizmaster for Senior Teen Vet A, and the former question writer, has told me that her kids enjoyed my Quizmastering. So, maybe that’s evidence enough to prove I’m both good and effective. I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because maybe it’s the candy. Or maybe it’s the fact that I have an uncontainable passion for Quizzing and a seemingly mundane yet incredibly inspirational and impactful Quizzing testimony which puts me in a unique position to share and encourage. Maybe it’s my constant attempts to make all the Quizzers feel encouraged and loved by my “good tries, ” “nice jobs,” candy, and high fives. I don’t know. But, I know that I love it so much that my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I love it more than I loved it when I was competing. Which I never thought was possible. 

I received a message from a parent and coach earlier today. She wanted to thank me for giving up my time this past week to be at Nationals (which, to be fair, is the furthest thing from a sacrifice– there is no better way to spend my time) and for talking to her team and expressing interest in them– especially her daughter, who had never had that before. She was excited and happy that I had shown interest in her. As I read the message, my heart broke a little. I hadn’t done anything special. I simply talked to her, offered her high fives, and made sure I acknowledged her, even when she wasn’t in my room. And to think that made her happy filled me with joy, but it also made me a little sad to think no other Quizmaster or person had done that before. But, it reminded me that, just like how in Quizzing there is more than winning, in Quizmastering there is more than just asking questions and keeping the rounds running smoothly and timely. There’s encouraging, high fiving, loving, and laughing. And again, I don’t know if this makes me an effective Quizmaster, but I know I impacted at least one life, even if it was just in a small way, and that is why I do what I do.

Quizzing has taken me to Kenya. It has taken me, and three of my friends, to local churches in order to put on a skills clinic for other Quizzers. It has taken me to four different and beautiful places for Nationals. It’s taken me to different churches and led me to volunteer at two different church’s practices. It has taken me across oceans, under bridges, over highways, and into people’s hearts. It’s led me to go on a missions’ trip, help plan service projects, and help start a fund for growing international Bible Quizzing. But, it’s also led me to learn more about myself and about God. I learn more about my passions, my gifts, my talents, and most importantly, God and His Word. And I could go on for hours about the impact it’s had on me in my own life, both as a Quizzer and as a Quizmaster, but until you experience it yourself, you won’t understand. You won’t understand my passion or my love. So, if you have no idea what Quizzing is, go out and discover it. If you have experienced it, go out and share your passion, your light, your joy, and your love for it and for God. Because if it were up to me, every person in the world would have the chance, and the desire, to experience Quizzing.

I never thought I could love something so much it physically hurts. Yet, I constantly feel a pain inside me when I’m Quizzing or when I’m talking about it. But, it’s not from sadness. It’s from unimaginable, inexpressible joy and love and passion. It’s from a desire to encourage every teen to try it, every adult to watch it, and every person to fall in love with it. I never thought I could love something so much that I’d rather die than be separated from it. Because making me give it up would be like ripping my heart out of my chest. In fact, that would probably hurt less. Because I love Quizzing more than anything, and I don’t think I will ever love any person, place, or thing more.*

*obviously this excludes the One who makes Quizzing possible and who gave me the ability and opportunity to participate, and who is the reason I Quiz. 

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The Art of Healing

Healing is a long process. Whether it’s physical or emotional, healing takes time, energy, effort, trust and patience. It’s like trying to paint a materpiece. There are steps you must take to get it right, there are things you must do to make it beautiful, and there is time you must put into it. You may have setbacks and you may need to start over. But, once it’s all said and done, it’s an ultimately wonderful and amazingly beautiful thing. 

Thankfully, in my life, I haven’t experienced a lot of tremendous physical pain that required a lot of healing. I had eye surgery when I was about two- the healing process from which I hardly remember. I’ve pulled muscles, twisted ankles, bruised vessels, cut skin, and scraped elbows. And, two weeks ago, I had my wisdom teeth removed. 

Thankfully, in my life, I also haven’t had too many emotionally difficult and painful experiences that required a lot of healing. My grandfather and great grandma died when I was really  young- the healing process for which I didn’t really understand. I’ve had bad days, stressful weeks, difficult years, painful months, and confusing times. And, a month ago, I had my heart broken.

To sum up the story: girl meets guy, spends years falling for him, he becomes one of her greatest friends, and he eventually gets a girlfriend, effectively crushing her heart. You all know the story- it may have even happened to you at some point in your life. But healing from heartbreak, like wisdom teeth removal, takes time.

The day I got my wisdom teeth out, I was a mess. The anesthesia affected me so much, I was unable to physically walk to the car by myself. My mouth was numb. I felt like my tongue weighed 90 pounds. I was shivering and exhausted. I was forced to keep ice on my face, change my gauze every half hour, and I couldn’t go more than three hours without needing pain medicine.

When my heart broke, I was miserable. The news affected me so much, I was unable to eat or physically function properly. My mind was numb. I felt like my heart weighed a million pounds. I was dejected and exhausted. I was forced to drag myself out of bed, try to hide my feelings, and I couldn’t go more than five minutes without wanting to burst into tears.

The day after I got my wisdom teeth out, I had begun to heal. I was still exhausted and in pain. I laid on the couch for most of the day, watching Netflix. I still couldn’t eat real food because I was unable to chew. My cheeks had begun to swell, although only a little. I sill had to take pain medicine every three hours.  However, I had stopped bleeding, I was able to take a shower, and I no longer had to hold ice on my face. I was feeling much better.

Days after my heart broke, I had begun to heal. I was still shocked and in pain. I laid in bed longer than I needed to, thinking. I sometimes couldn’t eat because I was unable to process. My heart had begun to ache, although less than before. I still had to wipe my eyes a few times a day. However, I had started accepting, I was able to laugh, and I no longer fought so hard to get out of bed. I was feeling okay.

The third day after I got my wisdom teeth out, I thought I would be better. But, I woke up nauseous. I was starving, but I wasn’t able to keep my food down- at least not first thing in the morning. I was more exhausted than I had ever been, the antibiotics upset my stomach, the pain medicine made me feel like I was high, but the Advil wasn’t strong enough. Thankfully, I was eventually able to keep food down, get out of the house, and talk and laugh with my family like a normal human being. Even though I had to alternate between Tylenol and Advil every three hours because it still hurt.

A week after I got my heart broken, I thought I’d be okay. But, I woke up teary eyed. I was exhausted, but for some reason I couldn’t sleep- at least not without my mind wandering and wondering. I was more angry and dejected than I had ever been, the thought of it upset my stomach, the sadness and anger made me feel like I wasn’t myself, but the consoling words didn’t make me feel any better. Thankfully, I was eventually okay enough to get up, watch one of my favorite T.V shows that was also his, and fight some of the feelings of pain and anger. Even though the feelings still came and went occasionally because I was still hurt.

By the end of the week that I had my wisdom teeth out, I was feeling great. I was able to give a devotion and quizmaster for a Bible Quizzing tournament. I was still taking Advil and Tylenol every three hours, and the talking hurt my jaw. I could feel my stitches beginning to dissolve, leaving open holes in my mouth. By this point, the salt water rinse felt like more of an annoyance than a healing step. But, by the end of the day, I felt feverish and had a headache. I was exhausted again. But, the pain, except for in the lower left jaw, had mostly vanished.

By the end of the three weeks away, I was feeling great. I told myself I’d accepted it and my heart had healed. I was still struggling with the pain, and the thought of it made me cry. But, I could feel my heart healing, leaving open scars in its muscle. By this point, the talking felt more like a broken record than a step toward healing. But, by the end of the final day, I felt more broken than ever and had doubts about myself. I was sobbing and emotionally unstable again. But the anger, except for that which was directed at myself, had mostly vanished. 

And now, here I am, two weeks after my wisdom teeth have been removed, and I’m feeling great. I no longer need any Advil, and I am able to chew normally without pain. I can wear my retainer again without it hurting, and I can quizmaster all day without my jaw being sore and exhausted. I don’t have to cut my food into tiny pieces like a little kid. I feel great. But, I’m still missing a part of me.  

And now, here I am, a month after my heart was broken, and I’m not sure how I’m doing. I no longer struggle to get out of bed everyday, and I’m able to text him like nothing happened. I can listen to that song I’ve been avoiding without crying and I can have a normal conversation with him without wanting to cry or get mad. I don’t have to find as many excuses to not see him or talk to him. I feel okay. But, I’m still missing a part of me. 

My emotional pain, just like the pain of having my wisdom teeth removed, will eventually heal. But, like having my wisdom teeth removed, I’ll never be completely whole. Because some part of me will always be missing. It won’t be my wisdom, or my teeth, but rather, a piece of my own heart. 

So, unlike, the pain from getting my wisdom teeth out, this pain will never completely go away. My wisdom teeth took weeks to heal. My heartbreak may take months. I’ve gone through all the stages of grief, and I’ll go through them again. I still fight the pain, anger, sadness, and doubts that come with each day. But, I also find trust, hope, joy, and strength in God. I painfully wait for His plan to come to fruition in me and I wonder where He’s calling me, finding the waiting to be almost as painful as the pain itself. I find myself wondering, questioning, doubting, and hoping. I find myself taking small steps toward the long process of healing. 

Because yesterday, I sat next to him at dinner and didn’t feel like crying, getting angry, or walking away. Last week, I said hi to him and made small talk with him without feeling awkward. Today, I texted him something stupid and ridiculous that wasn’t related to making plans or wishing him a happy holiday. Tonight, I listened to that song I’d been avoiding because it always made me think of him. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to see them together without immediately feeling sad or nauseous or angry.

But, healing is a process. And it’ll take time. It’ll take longer. It’ll take days of acceptance followed by days of pain. Because, unlike physical healing, emotional healing is unpredictable and irrational. Because emotions are unpredictable and irrational. So, the steps may be small, and some days it may feel like I’m moving backwards, but it’s all part of the art of healing. It’s all part of its beauty and its pain. 

Because healing is a wonderful thing. And it, like art, takes time. But the art of it is, it’ll eventually happen. Sometimes, it may seem like it’s failing. And sometimes it may seem like its the most beautiful thing in the world. But, regardless of what it feels like or looks like, I just need to keep trusting, even when it’s hard. I need to keep quoting those verses over and over to myself everyday. I need to keep forcing myself to face it. I need to keep moving forward and moving on, or else I’ll never heal. 

Today, I wrote a Bible verse on my white board for encouragement- a thing I had stopped because I wasn’t sure I believed it. I wrote these words without crying or getting mad. I read some of the words I had already written without feeling the same anger and pain I did when I wrote them. I talked to my friend about my future wedding and didn’t imagine him in it or cry because I hoped he would be. My roommate and I have been praying together every night, and I’ve cried less as the days have gone on. I’ve been able to watch those much hated rom coms and not imagine it were us. I listened to my friend share his stories about love and was able to remember to focus on aiming my arrow instead of fighting against its pullback. I’m able to spend time alone without thinking about it. I’m beginning to be able to listen to all the songs that used to make me think of him. I’m able to watch shows on Netflix that I know he loves without crying. I can talk about mutual interests we have without thinking it must mean we are “meant to be.” I can pray without asking God why but instead asking Him what now. I can begin to look at the wreckage of my heartbreak and begin to think of reasons why, and glorify Him through it. I’m beginning to heal, and I feel almost as high as I did when I got my wisdom teeth out. 

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Love Struck? Or, Love’s Truck?

Life is a journey. It’s like a road. There are twists and turns, ups and downs, and smooth patches and potholes. And sometimes, you’re standing on the road, happy, energetic, ready to run to the finish. But, sometimes, you’re standing on the road dejected, beaten down, unable to take another step in any direction. Sometimes, a truck hits you out of nowhere. Or, maybe not out of nowhere.

You see, despite my visual impairment, I saw the truck coming. It was coming at me, slowly at first, but gaining more speed with each day. Its lights were shining and its horn was blasting. And, I tried to get out of its way, I did but, I didn’t. Or, at least I didn’t get completely out of its way. I may have mostly jumped out of its way. Or, convinced myself I still had time to move. Or, I may have said I was out of the way in my mind, but my body wasn’t actually listening. Whatever the reason may be, I got hit. Hard. And it hurt.

Because I was semi-prepared (haha get it. Semi-prepared, semi-truck). But, I guess I had always held out a little bit of hope that I wouldn’t have to move out of the way. That the truck would prove not to be a truck, but to be my ride. My vehicle through the next part of my journey. But, surprise, it wasn’t. It was a truck. And it hit me. Crushed me. I had told myself I was braced for impact, but, I didn’t brace myself hard enough, thinking the impact would never actually come.

And now, here I am, in the middle of the road, dejected, beaten down, and unable, unwilling, to move. My physical wounds are not nearly as painful as the emotional ones. Because it hurt. And, ever since the impact, I’ve asked myself so many times how I could be so stupid, how I could have such a false hope, how I could think the truck wasn’t going to hit me. I wondered if I had been more obvious about my presence if the driver would have seen me.

And so, here I am, laying in the middle of the road. Watching my life play out. Watching my hopes and dreams being achieved by another. Watching my life, as if a movie, except I am no longer the main character. This life I had planned for myself, this life I had hoped for myself, happening, but happening to someone else.

Because, I am “actually a pretty great person.” But, maybe, I’m not good enough. Because, apparently my years of trust, of openness, were not what I thought they were. Maybe my openness was scaring him away. Maybe I wasn’t obvious about how it was that I felt. But, whatever, the reason, I now have to learn to get over the impact. And five, no, maybe seven, years of bracing myself for impact while simultaneously hoping it wouldn’t come made me think I would be okay. There were signs along the road. Signs which I read to mean that I wouldn’t have to brace myself for impact. And, eventually the signs changed, and I could tell I was probably misinterpreting them, but I pretended I wasn’t anyway. Because I’d have seen the truck. I’d have been able to see the signs. But, then again, I am blind.

And, so, again, here I am. At a crossroad. Laying here. Slowly but surely getting up. Ready to stand. Unsure how to begin. Unsure how to pull myself up and stand amidst the pain. But, I’m figuring it out. I’m doing what I can. I’m filling up word documents and journal pages with words. With emotions. I’m taking in air; despite how much it might hurt. I’m figuring out how I’ll stand up, crawl around the wreckage I left behind, and move on. And, I’ll figure it out eventually. It may just take a while. Because processing a heartbreak seven years in the making is tough. Watching my five year long dreams, hopes, and wishes come crashing down around me hurts.

So, I am doing what needs to be done. I’m writing. I’m shedding tears. I’m talking. I’m giving myself space. I’m sitting in the bathroom while the DJ plays one of my favorite songs because I just can’t bear to hear it. I’m listening to that one song on repeat. I’m avoiding being the one to initiate contact. And, for a while, I’m avoiding some of the things I used to love because he loves them too. But, I’ll come around eventually. It may just take a few weeks, or months. Hopefully not years. Because I am determined not to let this setback, this heartbreak, set me back.

So, maybe I’ll be less open to people. Maybe I’ll be more open. Maybe I’ll be more cautious about who I tell my deepest intimate secrets to, because maybe I’m worried it’ll scare them away. Maybe I’m worried they’ll think I’m too much to handle. Maybe I won’t change anything. I don’t know. I know that I’ll survive. I know that it’ll take a while to get over it. I know that I am trying my best. I know that I don’t want to let this get to me, even though that is incredibly difficult not to do. I know that there will be tough days, and tough conversations, in the future.

But, I know that God has an amazing plan. And that this heartbreak is just a bump in the road of His amazing plan. And, for now, even though it still hurts, and there are still sores, I’m finding good in the small things. I’m finding things to be thankful for despite the pain. The friend who walks across campus at one in the morning, in the snow, alone, just to sit with you, talk, cry, vent, and throw some pillows. The friends who sit with you in a bathroom stall because you can’t be out there with all the people, not yet. The family who drove to school to pick you up, take you home for dinner, and listened to you share the news. Who were upset with you, and for you, but who also gave you great advice as to how to get up and move on.

The sister who, despite the fact that you weren’t sure if you wanted to tell her, or even how to tell her, allowed you to come to her room and watch a movie. Who didn’t ask to talk about it, but instead just sat and watched a movie, trying to make you laugh. And, who used her million and a half flex dollars to buy you some mozzarella sticks. I’m finding joy in the little things. And being thankful for the small things. And, I’m waiting for the day that I can look back on the wreckage and prove to myself that I can get over it. That I can survive. That I can thrive.

“I remember when we met, I was young and innocent
And they told me you were all a girl could need
So I wrapped my life around you, I felt safe cause I had found you
But security’s become my enemy
You’re the only road I’ve ever known, but it’s time to move on

Cause the truth is I’m finding that it might not go my way
If I hold this life too tightly, my heart would break
And it’s time to say goodbye to everything I’ve ever known
But I choose freedom so this is me letting you go”

– Letting You Go, Jenny Simmons

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Kenya? Apparently Our Bags Can’t.

Okay, so you know how you always hear those stories around and you always think it’ll never happen to you. Well, it happened to us. Our luggage got lost at the airport. Or rather, it didn’t get put on our connecting flight from Paris to Kenya. It apparently wanted to sight see a little bit. I’m jealous. But anyway, we went the first day without luggage. 

And when this situation arose, I had many emotions. Understandably, I was frustrated, sad, and upset all in one. What a way to start a missions trip- no luggage. It was an interesting experience.

On the plus side, we didn’t have to drag all of our luggage from the airport to our guesthouse, trying to squeeze 14 people and 27 bags plus our carry-ons onto a small bus. We were so exhausted we didn’t want to do anything that night but sleep anyway, so we didn’t have to try to lug our luggage. On the negative side, I didn’t have sunscreen and my allergy medicine, which meant my first day was filled with sneezing and the constant fear or being burned to death. (And I got a little pink, but it’s hardly anything. It’s not bad.) 

So, we got to our guesthouse, and the girls began sorting out who had enough clothes to share with those who didn’t. And we talked about what we were doing the next day and when, and then we went to bed. And we woke up the next day, some of us wearing borrowed clothes or clothes we had worn for 36 some hours straight. But, we got up, had breakfast, and began our day. Thankfully, it was a pretty low key day with not a lot to do. We exchanged our money, had some lunch, and then headed over to the school. We watched some Quizzing, hung out with the kids, and even quizzed an “all-star” team made up of the Quizzers who had quizzed out during the rounds. We then left, had dinner, and went back to play games and wait for our luggage to arrive. And although some of us hadn’t showered in over 48 hours, or hadn’t changed shirts in at least that long, we had fun. We laughed. We talked. We experienced new culture, and we learned new things. 

This experience was an interesting one. I was worried, and frustrated, and mad all in one. But, despite it all, I was okay. Our team was okay. We survived. And, although it was a very unfortunate situation, it was an important experience. It began our trip by forcing us to trust God completely. It forced us to believe in Him despite unfortunate circumstances. We all got a lesson in preparedness. And, we now have a great story to tell. So, it may have been frustrating or sad or whatever, but we are better for it. And I believe it has set the precedent for the trip- blind faith in God. So, yes, we went a full day without our luggage, but we had a full day of laughs and love, and that’s more important anyway. 

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