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I have no good title for this.


(No big deal, just a really too large photo of me being a total weirdo in a bathroom, because what's a blog post without a self-indulgent photo of oneself?) 

I am far beyond an open book, ask me anything and I will give you the most honest answer, probably more honest than you want. So this means as my story unfolds, I have shared it openly and honestly, not with the intention of asking for pity or for pats on the back, but out of the sheer fact that when searching for stories similar to mine, I couldn’t find anyone talking about any of this – it was as if I was completely alone in my struggles.

I’ve told my story many times, but the beautiful thing about life is that as long as I’m alive; my story is still being written. My story will keep getting longer; there will always be more to share, more to learn, more to give. So I’m going to share again – although, an abbreviated version as not to bore anyone who has heard it many times. ;)

I have, for as long as I can recall, struggled with severe anxiety and depression. I had my first run-in with anxiety at age 10, experimented with self-mutilation between the ages of 13-16, once ridding myself of self-harm, I moved onto dating every guy that would look at me (I think I had probably 7 “boyfriends” just during my junior year of high school) and I kept it all under wraps until I was around 24, or so.
During my high school years and my early twenties, my anxiety and depression stayed fairly dormant. I had great friends, a great family, a super active social life – I was one of those girls that on the outside, had it all, but on the inside was so desperately unhappy with herself.
I was told once that my depression was from a lack of faith. So I started going to church more regularly than I ever had in my life, praying as hard as I could, begging God to make it all go away – not just the unhappiness, but the self-loathing I felt, the voices inside my head that told me I was never going to be good enough, the fear that consumed me daily. While it was all still there, lying under the surface, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be, so I chalked it up to my more regular church attendance.

And then, the fun part.

I got married too young to the wrong person. But things were great! For two years! As my contentment with life became greater, my anxiety slowly got worse, quietly rising to the surface, but just slowly enough that it went unnoticed for years. But, still, I was happy, everything was fine, I had a great life.

I got divorced just shy of being married for 3 years. I tried so hard to keep it all together for the sake of appearances. As someone who shares my life daily with the internet – with complete strangers – I didn’t tell a soul outside of my inner circle about my divorce for over two months. I completely stopped sharing anything personal. I would post these pretty little photos with empty captions on Instagram, and would quote the hilarious things the kiddos would say for Facebook, yet no one knew I cried myself to sleep every single night for three months – and this wasn’t like soft little pretty tears, this was loud sobbing to the point where I couldn’t breathe. My life had absolutely fallen apart, despite doing everything “right” in terms of my faith, society, my own standards, and like hell I was going to tell anyone about my failures. I kept everything so hidden, not wanting to show that I had failed so horribly at something I fought so hard to keep in tact.

Here’s the problem with what I did – we are not meant to do life alone. We aren’t meant to struggle alone.

While I didn’t owe anyone answers, I didn’t need to tell the whole world what I was going through, I didn’t need to share every detail of my life -- the fact that I struggled with even confiding in my friends for fear of being judged is so incredibly sad. 

It started making me angry that I had fallen into the trap of posting things on the internet that simply weren’t true. I remember posting about a Disney trip and that I was living my best life and having the greatest time and everything was so perfect and as it should be – but in all reality, my soon to be ex mother in law had just texted me “happy anniversary” knowing that my marriage wasn’t going to be salvaged.

Things got way worse before they got better, but they didn't start to get better until I started sharing what was going on with those I was close to, stopped faking happy and started being honest. 

Why do we do these things? Why do we keep up appearances when we are falling apart on the inside? Sure, no one is interested in hearing the stuff that makes life hard, the world is so full of negativity as it is, why add to it?
But why sugarcoat when things are hard? Why cover up what you are going through when your words might help someone more than you could’ve ever known?

So I started being honest. No one was talking about being divorced at 25 years old. No one was talking about having it all, but falling apart when everyone leaves at the end of the day. No one was talking about losing 30 pounds in less than 2 months because you’ve lost the will to do anything when you are that sad. I started saying the things that I wanted to read when I was hurting most. I wanted others to know they weren’t alone. I wanted people to know that there was zero shame in admitting you need help sometimes.

And people responded to it so well. I received countless messages of women telling me their stories, confiding in me, seeing me as a friend. These are stories that I am so grateful to hear and be trusted with.  

A few nights ago I went to an Underoath concert. They didn’t say much in between the songs, but before playing one of their newer songs, Spencer said something that I immediately typed up in the notes section of my phone – “I think it’s lame that we can’t talk about our problems and look at our friends and ask for help.”

I just want you to know that you aren’t alone and we aren’t MEANT to do any of this alone. I know how hard it is to admit that something is wrong, but people love you and care about you and would bend over backwards to help you. But sometimes we get so good at covering up how we are feeling on the inside that no one knows how much we are hurting.  If you can, reach out and ask for help. And if you don’t feel like you have anyone, you always have me. I’m always here and I want to help you.

And if you’re on the other side, and you know a friend is hurting, just be there. Lend a shoulder to cry on or listening ear. Don’t judge what you may not understand, don’t give advice unless they ask for it; sometimes they just need someone to vent to. Just be there, be present and let them know that without a doubt, they are so loved. 


I prayed so hard while writing this, asking God to give me the correct words to reach whoever needed to hear this. That someone who is sugar coating their struggles, hiding their problems from their loved ones, living in grief alone - that they would find this poorly written blog and know they aren't alone and that life isn't meant to be lived that way.
I know that my struggles, the cards I have been dealt in life, the things I deal with on a daily basis, are not all in vain, but for the glory of God and for the use of His kingdom. I am nothing without Jesus’ love and I’m here today because He has fulfilled and continues to fulfill His promises to me. While I don’t believe that I can pray away my depression and anxiety, I do believe that my faith keeps me grounded in truth that I have been given a purpose in this life, and you have a purpose, too – even if you don’t know what it is yet. If you ever wanna talk about Jesus and the love He has for you, I’m always here to talk. <3

"Clean me up, show me how to live. Tear me down, let me start again." 

Things are weird right now

I started dating fairly soon after my divorce. I'm not really sure why.

Maybe it was because my therapist had planted the idea in my head?

I remember sitting in her office in one of my appointments and she says "so, have you thought about dating at all?" "HELL NO. Are you kidding me?" And then when I got home, making dinner for just one person and later settling into bed with my two cats, "well, it might not be a bad idea"... ha. 

Shortly after, I found myself going on dates fairly regularly with a pretty great guy. We ended up dating for a year.  (And he's probably going to be mad when he reads this, ha.)

Over the course of that year, there were bumps in the road. There were really, really good times. And there were some really bad times. There were times when I was so happy I could hardly stand it, and there were times that I cried myself to sleep, exhausted from trying too hard. I rarely gave myself grace for the fact that I was still learning; that I’m still learning, now.
When you put two flawed, broken people together, it doesn't always make everything better. People can't fix you, they can't fix your problems, no matter how hard you try to wrap up those wounds with the attention of someone else. No matter how badly I would want things to change, they couldn't unless we made changes in ourselves. I knew this with my marriage and was able to walk away knowing I did what I could, but this time seemed much harder for some reason. 

In this last year, I've learned so much about myself.
I found that I let my anxiety hinder me in many ways - I cancel plans last minute, I say things I don't mean out of frustration for not being able to properly communicate. I often use it as a crutch.
I found that I'm very good - almost too good - at placing blame on everyone but myself. I tend to take the blame only when I feel cornered - it's a known problem, it was a known problem when I was married, and it's an issue I am slowly, but surely, working through. 
I found that I'm needy as hell. Good grief, am I needy. And if I never marry again, I'll know this is the reason why. ;) 
I learned exactly what I need out of a relationship, that I deserve all those things that I need and want, and I shouldn't have to compromise any of it. But how to receive those needs without being selfish about it is something I haven't quite mastered yet.

Now let's add in the fact that I was married and had just spent the last 7 years of my "adult" life with one person.

Growing up with one person - someone who knew me inside and out, who knew what I needed emotionally and fulfilled those needs really well for the majority of those 7 years -- then moving into a world of dating, where no one knows me that well, no one knows what I need in order to calm my fears and my anxieties. Beginning a long term relationship on the basis of "this is what I need from you, can you do that for me" was a mistake. It was frustrating. It made me cry, a lot, on many occasions. I expected too much right out of the gate and that's not fair - to me or anyone I date. 
I found that dating as an adult is really weird and really different than dating straight out of high school. It's weird to reflect on the last time I really dated someone prior to this; I was 18 and I ended up marrying that guy. Now I'm 26 and have zero clue how to date a man. 

In the midst of all of that, my ex-husband re-entered my life. It threw me into a tailspin of emotions. He was asking me for the very things I had begged him for when our marriage was ending. He was practically offering them to me on a silver platter. 
But I didn't want those things from him anymore, I had moved on, I had learned to live without this person. But I wasn't sure what to do with any of this mess. How to handle it. How to tell anyone about it. If I should tell anyone that it had happened.

And in the midst of all of that, I was also off of my medication. Which, if you've been on any sort of antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication, the withdrawal is absolute hell. Your emotions are all over the place as it is, and when life throws a few more wrenches in there, everything feels a little too hard to handle sometimes. 

Dating post-divorce, when you really didn't date as an adult prior to getting married is a rude awakening. Life is really different after marriage. Men are different. The rules of dating are different. It's just weird and I wasn't prepared for it. 
Maybe I jumped in too soon. I can admit to that.

I was talking to a friend about the many emotions I've been experiencing lately and I said, "I have no idea why I feel this sad. I've been through so much worse than this." She told me that even though I'm well past my marriage, that I've moved on with my life and I'm doing well - I'm probably still grieving the loss of my marriage in many ways, and now I'm grieving yet another loss. Another failure, so to speak. And she was right. I am grieving two failed relationships at once. And it hurts. And it sucks really freaking bad. 
But. 
I've been through worse. I'll probably go through worse again. This is but another bump in the road, that I'll learn and grow from. And I can't help but be thankful for it all. 


365.


As of today, I can say that the hardest year of my life is behind me. It feels good, scary, relieving and weird all at once.

I've always shared personal experiences, from my silly blogs in high school about the stupidest stuff, to the beginnings of my relationship, to getting engaged and all of the wedding planning, and the marriage itself - it only felt natural to share what was going on as I navigated the waters of divorce. Looking back, I'm split a little; part of me is so happy I shared all that I did. Although it was an extremely painful time, and whenever I read back on those writings, it feels just as fresh as it did when I wrote them... really good friendships were forged from being open about my divorce and subsequent depression. On the other hand, I know I hurt a lot of people by writing so freely about what was happening in my life.

Every time I wrote about my divorce, I felt so much better. I felt closer to those who took the time to read, and listen to my struggles, and especially to those who would reach out to me and offered a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear or to even asked for advice (which is so flattering because I feel like I know nothing). I never felt quite as alone whenever I wrote about what I was feeling. It felt different than just talking to someone about it - whether it be a friend, family, or my therapist. Writing always felt better.

Getting married at 22 and divorced at 25 was hard. So hard. I felt (feel?) like a failure, like I gave up on something that was supposed to last forever. It's taken a lot of hard work to realize that sometimes things just don't work out and that's okay. And I made it through relatively unscathed, I feel.

So - a run down on the last year:

- I got divorced. (what?! No way!)
- Made some of the best friends. Honestly, these are some of the most genuine relationships I've ever had in my entire life.
- I went to Disney four times. Once with my mom, once with a friend I'd never met in real life, and twice completely by myself. I can't begin to explain what each of those trips meant to me, and I hope to write about it eventually (I have written about the trip with my mom, already)
- Got more tattoos in the last year than I've gotten in the last 8 years combined.
- Started therapy and medication for my depression and anxiety, something I should've done forever ago but was too intimidated to do.
- Lost a bunch of weight because I never ate anything, except for a protein shake maybe once a day. Gained a bunch of it back because I semi got my appetite back.
- Moved into a house in my favorite Springfield neighborhood.
- Went hiking in the Smoky Mountains! (While seemingly insignificant, I promise you, this is big for me.)
- Dating a really great guy. He has chickens, one in particular attacked my left foot last weekend.
- Went to concerts! Lots of concerts! My favorite was probably seeing Band of Horses one last time with my dad (our fourth time together), before two of the original members left the band. (AND I'm seeing Banks next month. Her newest album was released while I was at Disney World with my mom over what would've been my third wedding anniversary. It was a perfect album with perfect timing. I'm excited to hear that music live.)

It's been incredibly hard; there have been days where I struggle to get out of bed, I forget to eat (and y'all, before all this, I never 'forgot' to eat), I've ditched my friends more in the last year out of pure anxiety than I ever have in my life.

But I'm really grateful for these last 365 days. They've changed me and continue to shape me into who I am, and it's hard to look back on this last year without acknowledging all the good that's come from it.

Anyway. Here's some music.


Thanks for being great, always. I've never experienced such kindness in my life and I'm really grateful. 
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