Everyday I'm Tumblin'

I don’t even know what to call you; legally or personally because you’ve never been real before, that is until I found you.

I used to think that you’re just some person that I had imagined.

You’re just someone who abandoned me.

Who left me.

Even though you could take care of three other kids, I was too much.

Because you didn’t think that you could fight. Fight to raise me as your daughter.

You didn’t want the extra trouble.

You didn’t want the hassle.

You didn’t want me.

So you gave me up, to people that you didn’t even know.

To a life that you didn’t have to be a part of.

I wanted to find you. Run into your arms. To cry. Scream. Question you.

I needed answers.

For years and years I carried around this burden, not like a chip, but a mountain on my shoulder. Weighing me down because if I wasn’t good enough for my own mother, I wasn’t good enough for anyone.

I came from this place of anger and confusion.

But that’s changed. Or IS changing.

I never thought that I’d be able to be ok with all of this.

Maybe not fully, but I’ve healed a bit.

I know now that what I owe you is a thank you.

Thank you for letting me go.

You did the right thing.

If you hadn’t given me away, so many things would’ve ended up differently.

I wouldn’t have lived this life of privilege.

I wouldn’t have received this incredible education that empowered me to seek out new information and gave me a love for literature.

I wouldn’t have spent my summers in the outer banks of North Carolina where I fell in love with sailing and learned how to be a friend and a leader.

Without a doctor as a father, no one would have noticed that I was so sick when a thyroid disease was shutting my body down. Grave’s disease would’ve taken an even greater toll on my body than it already had.

I wouldn’t have become a swimmer and then never had the opportunity to go to boarding school to pursue college scholarships.

Or go to Auburn, University where I grew up a lot, had hard times, but loved a lot too.

I’ve almost blamed you for all of the dark times.

Because this is why I felt like I’ve never belonged.

Truth is, maybe I would’ve been hurt more and not had the resources to be healthy.

The people that helped pull me back together.

Maybe, just maybe, you helped save me.

So, again, thank you.

You have no idea how much I owe you.

Maybe we can meet, or just chat, someday, but know that I’m ok.

Thanks to you. 

This girl is one of my roommates. Her kindness overflows and she loves nothing more than a quite night to play cards and read a good book, but inside, she’s like this fierce fighter and I love knowing her. 

twloha:

“Secrets”
Mariah McManus

My father and I have never had a great relationship. By that I mean we actually had a pretty terrible one.

My parents separated when I was quite young. They lived on opposite sides of the state. My father would come to our house for the holidays, but when he did, things didn’t always go smoothly. I remember screaming fights late into the night. I remember being so young and not being able to understand the things that were happening.

I remember wishing that my father was around more.

As I grew older, things didn’t change all that much. My parents officially got divorced. I spent every other weekend and six weeks of the summer with my father. Which meant my sister and I spent a lot of time with our grandparents because my dad worked long hours.

When he was around, it always seemed like he was trying to buy our love. He bought us hamsters and cats, model airplanes and video games. I loved these things, but I always longed for more. I wanted his approval. I wanted a father that would be around for more than just the weekend. I wanted a father who didn’t drink when he was around his children.

I wanted his time.

“Give me a reason for everything you’ve done. Tell me this one thing, did you ever believe in me?”

The years passed, and I became bitter. I resented him for taking me away from my friends for the summer. I resented him for making me quit basketball so I could see him on the weekends. We fought more. He drank more. I just wanted to stay with my mom all the time. He blamed my mom for making me feel that way and took it out on me. The fights and the drinking were wearing on me.

I was being emotionally abused, and I wasn’t aware. He would tell me one thing but tell my family another. He turned a lot of my family against my mom and me. I became depressed. I pulled away from my friends because they didn’t understand what I was going through. It seemed as though they had perfect families. I, on the other hand, was struggling. I still had to visit my dad, but those visits were filled with yelling matches and panic attacks.

I stopped wishing my father was around more. I wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’ve spent too many nights waiting for you to come back around, to come back to this town.”

The next five years were filled with family fights. They were filled with bitterness and resentment, anger and pain. I would forgive my dad, only for the cycle to start all over again. I wanted nothing more than for things to be normal. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted a “normal family.”

In the past few years, things started to change. I’ve grown up, and I feel like with that, I matured a lot. I am stronger than I once was. I am able to acknowledge the pain that my dad caused, without feeling bitter or angry.

Recently, my father wrote me a letter. He admitted that he knows he caused me pain. In a roundabout way, he apologized. He explained himself, and admitted that he is hurting, too. I can see now that my dad is broken, just like me. We are all broken in some way.

I’ve started to see things from his point of view. I’ve started to reach out to him when I know he is struggling. I started to make some changes in the way that I think.

“And I know that you’re broken. And I know that you’ve given up. And I know you are scared.”

I responded to his letter. I told him I forgive him. I forgive him for all the pain that he has caused. I told him I understand that people make mistakes. I told him that everyone is broken. I told him I want him in my life. I told him that I love him.

There is no doubt that my dad and I still have some work to do. The past isn’t erased, but the future can still be built. It’s not perfect, but now I call him just to talk. I made plans to visit him once the internship is over. I am willing to put the past behind me and try to build a relationship with him. All I can do outside of that is hope he is willing to continue to do the same for me.

“You’ve given every reason for all the things you’ve done. So could you honestly tell me that you’re still sorry? Oh, I meant every word I said.”

Forgiveness isn’t an easy thing, and it doesn’t always work. I’m prepared to give it a chance. I now have relationships built on trust and honesty. I have people in my life that know about my past, and they stand behind me no matter what. If forgiveness doesn’t work, I have my community to back me up.

I guess the moral of the story is this: things can change. Things can get better. Pain can ease over time. It is possible to let the past go. It might not seem like it in the moment, but it can happen. Try to believe it. Try to believe in you.

—Hannah
Spring 2012 Intern

twloha:

Dear friend,

You have been hurting. You have been moving through your days slower, weighed down and broken by what life has bestowed upon you. While you smile, there is pain clutching on to your heart and pulling you down. Your smile has been replaced with a resolute indifference. You are angry and scared. You’ve been pushing me away in my best efforts to comfort you and hold you tight. You aren’t yourself.

Do you remember that trip we took in the summer of 2009? You had just lost your job and your house, your cat and your car, a dear friend and even a glimmer of hope, and all that remained was a your desire for something more. A promise of a brighter tomorrow. We traveled north and found ourselves on the banks of Lake Michigan on a cold day in July. The lake expanded farther than we could see, and as we stood there in the wind, hands clutched tightly, we prayed.

You closed your eyes and a tear fell and in that moment you chose life. You chose to push forward, and you chose to hold on to hope even when it didn’t feel possible. You were uncertain at first, but that decision pushed you toward a life that brought you joy and true happiness. A life that you couldn’t have known if you had made another choice. A life that still exists, though it’s hard to see through the unsettled dust of the chaos you’re fighting.

Friend, you are stronger than you believe.

Last night someone told you that you have an honesty and a compassion that others do not and that until you can love yourself, they will love you. You rolled your eyes and you dug your feet into the sand, but you tucked those words into your pocket, desperate to hold them as truth. You whispered the words to yourself through the night while you slept.

I believe in your strength. I believe that you have what it takes to pull yourself out of this place. You are good enough. You are worth it. You are capable.

I will not leave you. You are not alone as you try your best to figure this out. Some days are harder than others. Some days life seems like too much, but know that I am here making the journey with you. When things feel too heavy, when it gets too dark, I’ll be there. I’ll carry you when you can’t carry yourself.

We will stand firm. We will choose hope. We will push through this. We will see a brighter day. Tomorrow the sun will rise and we will face the light and know that we chose an uncertain life, but a life filled with joys we don’t yet understand. We will walk strong and hold ourselves high. Though the pain still has a grasp on our heart, with each step toward hope, its grip will loosen, and we’ll persevere.

“I won’t give up on us, even if the skies get rough. We’ve got a lot to learn, but God knows we’re worth it.”

With love,
Holly

kristastetler:

This song has been stuck in my mind for the past week.  It’s hard for me to explain why it resonates with me so much, but I think that it speaks of redemption and the idea of resilience.  

I know that I have been in this place before.  This idea of being lost, but still not wanting to come to terms with it.  To keep going, to keep walking, to keep trying.  To be able to come out of it, and to be realize that God has played a part in it all along.  Being stubborn in what you want to believe, and the idea of not wanting grace, because you think you can do this on your own.  

I struggle a lot with my faith, and I think that I’ve come to a crossroads with it.  I’ve come into this time of my life where it is okay to talk about the struggles and demons I’ve felt, but at the same time not being ready to accept the love and forgiveness that people have shown me.  I have questioned God’s existence because of what I have been through.  It isn’t easy to accept things that you know you never deserved.  But at the same time to be able to look at getting through these struggles, and realizing that God had his hands on me all the time.  

I don’t have to the strong person that everyone needs me to be all the time.  I can mess up, I can make mistakes, I can ask for forgiveness, and I will be forgiven.  I am learning that brokenness is okay.  I don’t need your grace, I need to see my own.

My struggles don’t define me, but they have undoubtedly played a part in my story.  I am not my past, and it wasn’t my fault.

I was not my fault.

Brought out from the darkest place, and put into the light.  God had His hands on me all the time.