Chains, Not Necklaces

I spend a lot of time with my aunt, I love her dearly and she is one of the most important people in my life. We are similar in so many ways. We’re always on the same wave-link, but even with our same taste in toys, food and movies there’s so much that we differ in.

One day, I was hanging out with her and her granddaughter (my second cousin) when a conversation took place that I wasn’t comfortable with.

Cousin: 'Mommy says boys don’t wear necklaces'.
Aunt: 'That’s right. Girls wear necklaces and boys wear chains'.

How odd is it that we have to create a completely new word for an item that’s the exact same thing just so it can be gender specific?

And of course it would be taboo if the “chain” was thin and had a charm hanging from it; or had any decoration that might be considered “feminine”.

Why can’t a boy wear a necklace? Or play with a doll, wear a dress, paint their nails?

Little girls have a little more “creative” freedom. They can play with cars, action-figures, and play dress up in anything they want to. Because that “creativity” makes them stronger and more confidant. But if little boys play with "girl toys" or like the color pink, it makes them weak.

It saddens me that we live in a double standard world. That is FAR from changing.

You Are LOVED!

Mercy triumphs over judgement. What a powerful and life-changing concept - if we can accept it.

Sometimes that's the hardest part. It can be so hard for us to accept God's love and mercy. It's in His out stretched hand, all we have to do is grasp it and be dramatically changed.

I encourage you to watch this video and allow God's mercy, grace and love to dramatically change you.

Stop standing on your own, you don't have to any more.

be blessed (for Mami)

Today marks 10 years that my mother has passed. I've tried so hard to come up with a meaningful idea to memorialize my mother on this day. But I can't.

My heart is full of so many emotions. And my mind keeps going back to that day so many years ago. 

I was holding my mother when she took her last breath. She died in my arms. When my mother took her last breath, I knew it. I can still hear my scream echoing in my ears.

We were rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. I had to sit with a social worker; and the Chaplin was there also. With his comforting words. To this day I still don't understand why he would say those words to a young person who had just lost their parent minutes before.

I can't remember her voice or her touch or the smell of her hair. I can't remember hardly anything about her. Except for that day.

Deep down, I still secretly blame myself. I was 17 years old, I was scared and freaked out. I didn't want to leave her side. I didn't want to leave her alone. She would have hated that. So I stayed by her side instead of calling for help.

I hated myself for that, for years. And still do, sometimes.

I'd like to think she'd like who I've become. That she'd be proud of me. But honestly, I don't know. I don't think she would... I'm so different then that young girl. I have so many more scars.

But one thing I do know. She'd tell me to stop crying, to whip my eyes and to keep moving forward. "Stop being stupid." She'd say. "Don't look at me, look to God."

My mom was a strong God-fearing women. I remember every morning before school,  she would pray over my coming and going. Pray a hedge of protection over me. That God would keep me safe. I know, without a doubt, that her prayers are the reason why I'm still here. Why I'm alive.

Yes, it's been a decade since she passed. But her faith and prayers are still going strong. And touching me still.

I might hate what I did. And I might hate this day. And I might not be able to remember anything. And she might not like who I've become. But she loved me so much, that her love is still reaching me now, 10 years later.

Maybe that's something to celebrate. Instead of mourning.

"This is the day the Lord has made; 

We will rejoice and be glad in it." 

- Psalm 118:24 New King James Version

Be blessed. I hope you have a grand glorious day.

Hospitals

I took Sr Grumpy to the doctors yesterday. He is getting higher up in age and seems to be slowing down more quickly, so I try to take him every month.

The doctor told me his blood count was low from his last blood test (taken in May) and wanted to take a new one to see if it was the same, had gone up or fell lower. This morning, the doctors' nurse called me and told me that his blood count had dropped lower and that Sr Grumpy needed a blood transfusion.

When I heard this news, my mind instantly zoomed to a memory of my mom lying in her hospital bed getting dialysis. My breathing quickened and tears rushed to my eyes. For a split second I was overwhelmed with anxiety. However, I was able to pass it quickly and was able to soak in everything the nurse was telling me.

After I got off the phone with the nurse. I had to take Sr Grumpy to the hospital to get his blood drawn and matched for the transfusion - tomorrow.

When my mom passed, I told myself I'd never go back into that hospital. I have spent too much time there. Luckily, we didn't have to go into the "main" building. I have been back to the hospital campus a couple of times since my mothers' passing, but I've never had to go into the main building.

We had to go into the 'out-patient' center today to get his blood drawn. It is RIGHT next door to the main building. Again, when I exited the car to get Sr Grumpy out, my breathing quickened, tears rushed to my eyes and my anxiety spiked. Again, I was able to get my emotions under control quickly and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

We entered the center, I checked him in, filled out the paper work, and that was when I was informed we would be getting the transfusion in the main building tomorrow. My stomach sank and my mouth went dry.

 'No. No I can't do that.' I thought quickly to myself. Just as fast as it entered my mind, I forced myself to dismiss it. I finished the paperwork, Sr Grumpy got his blood drawn and we drove home.

Now that the day is coming to an end and all the preparations have been made. All the feelings I kept pushing away are lingering their way back to the forefront of my consciousness. Everything is starting to sink in and my mind is now able to process all the information of the day.

Sr Grumpy isn't my mom. He doesn't have cancer. And he isn't dying. He's healthy.

My mom is in a happier, healthier place.

It's just a building.

God has healed me of all my hurt and pain.

Everything will be fine.

I have faith that everything will be fine...

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6

Sometimes It Lasts At Love...

If you’d ever visit our home, you’d instantly think we’re either lovers’ or hoarders’ of cars. We have four “classic” cars that line the side of our house. Three out of the four cars, anyone can see and admire their beauty. They’re not restored, but they’re gorgeous in their old age.

However, the fourth is not a rare model, it’s not made by a special company and it doesn’t have a fancy body. It’s small, blocky, has no leg room and it’s not that old (for a car). It’s just a car from the 80’s that’s covered in dirt and has degraded flat tires.

The other day we took the ’53 Chevy pickup truck for a drive (the ‘Twilight’ truck). Grumpy is slowly restoring this truck and we take it out from time to time to keep it in working order.

After our drive, I hopped out of the passenger seat and ran to the drivers’ side to place the cinder block behind the back wheel – just to make sure it’s secure. And that’s when I saw a little yellow card stuck between the Renaults’ driver’s door and window.

“WE BUY JUNK CARS”

The card was a business card from a local company promoting their removal services for old vehicles and machinery.

“Marty is NOT JUNK!” I shouted loudly as I showed the card to Grumpy. He looked at the card, chuckled and shook his head. Who knows how long that card had been there; and that I would find it a week from my mom’s birthday. But seeing that card on her old car – upset me.

Marty was my mom’s first ‘real’ purchase, at least that’s how she always told me the story. After her first marriage ended horribly, my mom was on her own and Marty was the first thing she bought by herself. She was always so proud of him.

My mom drove that car everyday till the day she died, for over 20 years. My dream is to one day restore Marty, better than he was, and drive him for another 20.

The next day Grumpy and I were driving home from a day of fun, when the song “Someone Like You” by Adele came across the speakers. Since the release of this song, my dad has always associated it with my mom.

“Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you
Don't forget me, I beg
I'll remember you said,
‘Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead’”

There we were in front of the house, sitting in my car, listening to the song, singing along and staring at Marty.

“They thought Marty was junk.” Grumpy chuckled – and I laughed.

No. No, Marty isn’t junk.

When I Met You

April and July are hard months for me. April the month my mom was born; and July the month she died. This year marks 10 years that she’s been with God. It feels so much longer; I can hardly remember her. She’s been gone almost half my life.

My moms’ twin, aunt Stella (who I was named after), really struggled with my mom’s passing in the beginning. After years of therapy and healing, my aunt is finally on the “acceptance” stage of grief. I feel like I’ve reverted to the “depression” stage. I know grief can be a cycle; we can cycle in and out of the stages of grief.

It’s really hard for me to deal with this.

I did so well when my mom passed. I truly believed (and still do) that God had a purpose for taking my mom. It was easy for me to “work through” the stages of grief after she passed. I did it in one night actually.

One long, late, tear-filled night.

A week or so after God took my mom. I sat in my room, listened to music and with my emotions fresh, I unleashed all of my thoughts and emotions to God. I remember so vividly, sitting in a corner, the tears running down my face, hitting the floor and yelling at God. I’d randomly get up, pace my room, hit the closet, kick my bed, and scream into a pillow.

“Why God? Why did you do THIS?!”

“Why did you take her?”

“Why couldn’t I save her?”

I’ve struggled with the guilt of not saving my mom on and off since her passing; but that’s a story for another journal entry.

I remember staying up past 3am. I gave all my hurt, pain, anger and questions to God and He filled me with peace and gave me reassurance that I would be okay.

This is why cycling through the stages of grief is hard for me. I know God healed my hurt. I know God took my pain. I know God was in the room with me when I was grieving.

God hurt with me. God grieved with me.

And it’s not that I still don’t believe that. I know I’m healed. God took my brokenness and put me back together.

I am healed. But, I’m also human.

Just because I cycle in and out of grief, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust God. It means I love my mom.

 And that I miss her.

“I remember the moment, I remember the pain
I was only a girl, but I grew up that day
Tears were falling
I know You saw me

Hiding there in my bedroom, so alone
I was doing my best, trying to be strong
No one to turn to
That's when I met You

All this time, from the first tear cried
'Till today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there, You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time”

Song: “All This Time” by Britt Nicole

The stages of grief

Just Keep Breathing

A couple of weeks ago marked the one year anniversary of me being self-harm free. I’ve said that three times in the last ten years.

So much has happened in the last ten years; so much happened when I turned 17. I started cutting a few months after my birthday. My mom was diagnosed and passed away from pancreatic cancer. I discovered my passion for music. The Internet became my world. And so many other things happened.

It’s so weird to think it’s been ten years. Ten years of me fighting the urge to place a blade to my skin. At moments, it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long. And at other moments, it seems like a lifetime.

It saddens me.

It saddens me that cutting has been such a big part of my life. It saddens me that I’ve only been able to stop three times; the first time for a year, the second time for two & half years and this third time for one year.

I was so lost last fall (Oct-Dec 2013). I had a fight with my dad, I packed my bags and left home; I couldn’t handle living in a toxic environment any more. I ran to the only place I could think of, my “sanctuary” became my trigger. The people who were supposed to help me, pushed me over the edge.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. And I knew if I gave in, it would be so hard to stop. But it didn’t matter, I was alone. Truly, and utterly, alone.

I cut more in those three months, then I had EVER done. I couldn’t stop. I was emotionally spiraling out of control. I was grasping for anything. It was SO BAD.

At one point, it finally clicked in my head to just stop and breathe. My thoughts were racing; I had to force my brain and emotions to stop. I needed a break. I was sitting in a Starbucks, writing in my journal and listening to music. I was hiding.

“2 A.M., too tired to sleep
When what you want's not what you need
And when these walls don't feel like home
Remember that you're not alone…

When heaven seems so far away
And dreams are just a memory
When love is all too hard to hold
Just take a breath and let it...

Go whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh
Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing
Whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh
Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing”

I went to my dad the next day, we worked out our problems and I moved back in. I learned that sometimes being in a hard place is better than being in no place at all. And that good really does come from bad.

It was so hard to stop; almost unbearable.

I remember lying on my bed and forcing myself not to move. It took over an hour, but the urge finally passed. One afternoon I was walking in the hardware store with my dad, and we walked down an aisle with every type of blade ever made by man. And I craved them, like I never craved anything before. My skin ached and I became jittery. I was an addict hurting for a fix.

As the months have passed, the lust has subsided, but it’s always there. And I know it always will be. I will always struggle with self-harm and depression. But as long as I remember to breathe, I know I can make it to the next hour and to the next aisle and through my life.

The 27th Year

It’s so weird to think I’m turning 27 today. Not because I’m getting ‘older’, but because I never thought I’d live past my 21st birthday. I’ve lived six years more than I EVER thought I would.

There are so many moments where I tried to snuff out my light.

I should be dead.

I should have never woken up.

There was a time in my life, where I begged God to let me die. I couldn’t understand why He couldn’t just let me go.

The harder I tried, the tighter He gripped me.

I was so angry. I couldn’t see, I didn’t understand.

I’ve always felt alone and invisible. I’ve never thought that I’ve mattered.

But this last year, I’m starting to see a glimpse. A glimmer of what my purpose might possibly be.

I started making gaming videos and placed them on YouTube for others to see. I was hoping to make a friend or two.

Honestly, I was reaching; I was reaching for anything to keep myself stable. Something to distract myself, and to trick myself into thinking that I WASN’T wasting my life.

From a young age, I knew I was made for something bigger then myself. I just didn’t know what that something was. And over the years, I’ve really started to doubt myself. How can a girl like me, change the world?

I’ve defiantly made more than a friend or two, these last 8 months on YouTube. I’ve created this family of support, love and motivation. I could have NEVER imagined, posting short videos of me rambling incoherently could EVER make an impact. And I NEVER thought that making these videos would bring me healing.

I call my family, Fireflies. Small, bright lights of hope in the darkness. Who would have thought, that I would find my light posting gaming videos online? Who would have thought that ANYONE would have noticed my dimly lit light?

I had been posting videos online for a few months, when I almost threw in the towel. My Fireflies were calling out to me; they said I brightened their day, that they looked up to me and that I was changing their lives – it was too much for me to handle.

I had started to listen to the darkness.

You’re not worthy.

You’re worthless.

You’re damaged.

How can a depressed self-harming suicidal girl help anyone?

The darkness started closing in on me. Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter. The darkness was right.

I find myself looking back on my journal entries often when I’m searching.

So there I sat, in the middle of the night reading through my blog. And it all slowly started to click into place.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve overcome a lot in my life. I’ve fought and I’ve clawed myself out of the hole of death.

My destiny is not to die! My destiny is to LIVE! I am to live and to shine bright.

I AM A FIREFLY! Sure, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. And I DO still struggle with depression. But that doesn’t mean that I’m stuck or that my light is covered.

I can share my thoughts. I can share my experiences. I can tell my stories and pour out my heart. I CAN help others! 

Even if the only reason I was placed on this Earth was to post short videos of me rambling incoherently to brighten others days.

THEN THANK GOD! Thank God I didn’t die. Thank God my prayers weren’t answered.

I’m a fighter!

I’m a firefly!

I’M ALIVE!

Fall to Pieces

It’s strange how memories fade and how even the pain of emotion can subside, but in an instant it all comes rushing back. Like the pressure of a damn being released, and how the water saturates everything in its path. How it makes you paralyzed and anxious all at once.

Human memories and emotions are funny that way.

The other day, I attended a funeral of a family member that I didn't know. So when I felt a strong sting of emotion I didn't know how to respond, I was taken off guard.

My first reaction was: ‘I need a blade now!’ And then I instantly rebuffed the thought with: ‘I can do this!’ I hadn't experienced these emotions in years; I thought I'd worked through them. I thought I overcame this painful memory.

I instantly knew the enemy was taunting me. He was trying to cause havoc, to make me falter to have me loose absolute control and to fall apart. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was safe. That everything was going to be okay...

And that he couldn't hurt me anymore.

I was molested as a child, by a family member. Over the years, since the incident, I'd see him from time to time at different gatherings. Always from a distance, I've always made sure to stay away.

But this time, this time, was so uncomfortably close. I hadn't seen him in years. And now, there he stood an arm’s length away from me. I had my back to him, trying to block his existence, but then I had to turn and greet him.

The instant my hand touched his in a shake, I cringed and couldn't let go fast enough. Luckily our group instantly started moving and I was able to distract myself. This was when my silent battle started.

Tears rushed to my eyes, my breathing quickened, and my mind raced. I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast! Either allow the emotions to take over or fight; fight against the hurt and pain and NOT allow myself to be a victim any longer.

“I can do this.” I said quietly out loud to myself.

We found our seats, and again the enemy taunted me, there he sat right in front of me. I quickly started quoting scriptures and prayed a desperate cry of help.

“By His wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5.

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13.

A technique I learned in therapy came to me; I took a deep breath and calmed myself.

‘If little Star lived through this horrific situation, big Star can too.’ I lived through the situation once, I could relive it emotionally again. I’m stronger now. Braver. He no longer has the power to hurt me. I’m in control.

Once I took the power back, gradually I felt peace. The memories were still there, they were uncomfortable but not painful; the emotion was gone.

I had overcome the painful memory, I did work through the situation – but I never worked through the emotions of it.

The enemy saw the chink in my armor. The enemy thought throwing him at me would cause me to crumble. I faltered for a moment, but the warring – fighting spirit in me won.

For the first time in a long time I felt strong.

I am a strong. I am brave. I AM A FIGHTER! I need to remember this more often.

What's a Firefly?

I’ve slowly started telling my family that I’m making and uploading videos to YouTube. I kept it to myself for a while, because I didn’t know how my family would react. I knew most of them wouldn’t understand and I was afraid of having to explain it to them; because I knew I wouldn’t do it right. But honestly, I was afraid of having the idea rejected by my family. I liked having YouTube be my own private thing, my secret. But as my channel grows, it’s taking more and more of my time and energy and I had to let people know what was going on so they could try to “understand”.

There are only two people’s opinions in the world that matter to me. And I was terrified of telling them both.

I love how the first thing out of Aunt Stella’s mouth, after I explained everything was “And how can you bring God into this?” Ha ha, it wasn’t “That’s stupid” or “It’s a waste of time”.  Just, “How can you bring God into this?”

I just smiled and looked at her and said “How do I NOT bring God into it?”

Aunt Stella always knows the right thing to say.

My ‘slogan’ or ‘catch-phrase’ is “Love Will Save the Day”, for the banner/header on all of my social sites I have this slogan with John 3:16 tacked on the end.

I call my fans ‘fireflies’; little lights of hope and joy in the dark – Matthew 5:13-16.

I also pray often that God would use my channel and bless it.

But like my name says, Because She’s Star. How can I be me, without having God in my YouTube channel? I don’t know why, but this was a confirmation to me.

That I’m doing something right.

That I’m on the right track.

That I’m in alignment with God.

I’ve just got to be me and trust. And love myself, like I tell my fireflies.

I Have Hope

Normally on this day, I write happy cheery posts about my mom. How she was an amazing woman, how she’s now with God & how glorious that is, and I share a witty story. But today, today I’m just not feeling it. Because today, I’m not happy and I’m not strong enough to fake it.

I’m angry.

I’m angry at her for dying and changing our lives so horribly. I’m angry at her for leaving me and my dad; and making me deal with a woman that I hate and treats my dad so poorly. I’m angry at her for not teaching me the things she should have. I’m angry at her for making me feel like my words weren’t important, because now I’m too scared to share my thoughts. I’m angry that she told everyone good-bye but me.

I have hate.

I hate that the only things I can remember her saying are negative. I hate that I can’t remember her voice. I hate that I can’t remember how she looked, without looking at a picture. I hate myself, for not making her proud.

I’m weak.

I’m not strong enough today to put on a brave face. Today, I’m not willing to accept that she’s gone for some “greater good”. I’m tired of day-dreaming that she was by my side, I just wish she was. Today, I feel I will never overcome the pain that my mother’s death gave me.

I have faith.

I have faith that God won’t leave me in this horribly deep hole of depression that I’m in. I have faith that when I get to heaven, my mother will be there. I have faith that I’m not alone. I have faith, believe and know that the many powerful prayers my mother said over my life are still in effects today.

Today is a sad day, but I have hope that tomorrow will be better.

He Hears Her When She Cries

I’ve really been struggling with my depression this last month. I’ve almost cut myself three times. This last temptation, almost won, but I was drowning so far down that I couldn’t pull myself up enough to do it.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. But, it’s not like I’ve ever really “known” what I’m doing. I flounder, it’s what I do. I bounce from space to space, never grappling to anything in particular. I’m like a helium balloon that’s been released. I just float; higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

I’ve been growing bigger on YouTube, which has been keeping me occupied; but doesn’t completely distract me. I keep thinking; if I killed myself, would my fireflies know? How would they take that?

I’m trying to stay strong. I’m trying to stay. But the darkness is calling me again. And its voice is so sweet… I just want to lay and rest.

I know these thoughts are wrong, and that I shouldn’t entertain them.

I have these young fans that look up to me. They call me their best friend; say that they love me, that I get them through the day. They say that I am this amazing person and I try to see myself through their eyes… But I can’t.

I don’t see anything, I just feel pain.

How can I help them, when I’m so empty?

How can I be a positive influence, when all I want to do it die?

…And then I breathe, and say a prayer and close my eyes. Because I know in the morning I will wake, and deep down, I’m glad for that. 

Song that accompanies this post:
 "When She Cries" by Britt Nicole.

Hope & Faith

A couple of months back I met this person online and we started talking back and forth. We only exchanged a few emails; I realized pretty quickly that this person and I didn’t mesh well. They sent me an email and I just never replied, maybe that was wrong of me. Maybe I should have replied back and told them that their last email gave me some red flags and that I wasn’t interested in continuing our friendship.

I hate when people write me off like that, they just ignore you and act like you don’t exist. They don’t have the decency to treat you like a human-being. I was wrong. I should have said something.

However, I am only human and I hate confrontation. I try to act all tough, strong and in your face – but in reality I’m afraid. I’m weak and have horrible self-esteem issues. After a hotly spat comment, most would let it roll of their backs; move on. But me, I dwell on it; over and over again until it rips my inwards to shreds.

Words, especially written words, are my life. Ink to paper, cursor to screen; this is where I found myself. It’s my safe haven. My home. It’s the only act that I’ve found that truly makes me ‘feel better’; the one and only good coping skill that I have.

Words are existence. Words are power. Words give authority, and take it away. Words changes and destroys life. Words are freedom, freedom from our sometimes dark selves.

Words are my being.

Last night I got an email, from the person that I mentioned earlier in this post. They wrote me (what I consider) an angry letter.

They called me a bad person, rude, pathetic and a ‘lunatic’. They said I was a horrible ‘Christian’. That they hoped bad things would happen to me and that I would continue to harm myself; “cut yourself and cut your throat”.

I’m trying to forget the hurtful words that I read. I’m praying for God to help me pass this.

I did reply back to this person’s recent email, and I told them they were right. I should have wrote them back and told them I was no longer interested in communicating.  I told them I was sorry. I told them why I stopped communicating with them; what the reasons where.

I also told them, that my intuition was right (because of their action in writing the recent email). And that I would have never cursed them or said such horrible things about them or to them.

They replied back with another anger filled email. I read only half of it.

I think the thing that hurts me the most in this situation is the fact that a person who knows nothing of me, that I only wrote three or four emails to, would say such horrible things to me and about me. I know I shouldn’t be shocked, I’m fully aware that people like this do exist (even before this email). But still, how could someone do such a thing to another human being?

The way they threw my self-harm in my face; acted like I was a lesser person, worthless, because I’ve placed a blade to my skin in my past. I actually get this a lot from other Christians and ‘believers’. Most of the time I just put it off as ‘ignorance’ but this time… this time it punctured my heart.  

“Cut yourself and cut your throat”.

I’ve attempted suicide, I don’t know how many times. But for someone to say that I should kill myself… that’s, that’s ludicrous! And they say that they “follow Jesus”! I know, that’s a low blow and I shouldn’t say such judgmental things… but a person that I’ve only talked to a handful of times (in email) wants me to kill myself because I didn’t respond to them.

I didn’t respect them. I didn’t honor them. I didn’t acknowledge them as a human being, or as child of God.

Yes, I might have done wrong. But I don’t think I deserve the emails they wrote. I struggle enough, within my own mind, with my own words and thoughts – I don’t need added fuel from negative outsiders.

“Cut your throat”.

This sentence will haunt me, for who knows how many days to come. All I can do is have hope and faith that this won’t come true.

I'm a Firefly

Today was a big milestone day for me on YouTube; for two reasons.

Reason #1: I got my first “hate” comment. I struggled a really long time with the decision to delete the comment and pretend it never happened or to allow the comment to be posted and attempt a witty come back.

  

(This comment was left on my “Who Is Star?” video. My trailer for my channel, where I have my Sim-self do random activates that I enjoy.)

It wasn’t the wittiest come back, and it probably didn’t make the poster think twice. But I stood up for myself. I owned me and I didn’t allow someone else to make me feel bad about who I am. Who I am proud to be.

Reason #2: I hit 100 subscribers. That means I have 100 followers, people who think that my videos are worth watching, that they want to be notified every time I make a video.

Excuse me, WHAT!?? 

Dude! I can’t even come to terms with that. How is that possible? How is it possible that that many people would want to watch me play The Sims 3 and listen to my random (and sometimes inaudible) gibber-gabber?

That’s just mind-blowing to me. To someone who feels (most of the time) that they’re making no difference in the world. To have 100 people say: “Hey! I like you, there’s something about you that makes me want to know more about you and keep tabs on you”.

It’s extremely humbling. And awe-inspiring at the same time.

Cut It Off

I’ve been kind of down the last few days. I wouldn’t call it depression, just a little sad. It feels like a cloud is blocking my sun.

When I first started feeling this way, I allowed the emotions to lead me. It wasn’t drowning, so I figured I was fine – right? But then it hit me, the enemy was testing my shield. He’s looking and searching for a way to break into my mind and rip me to shreds (Matthew 12:43-45).

I could almost feel my shield being poked and pushed in. I instantly quoted Isaiah 53:5:

“But he was pierced for our transgressions,
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
    and by his wounds we are healed.”

And Leviticus 12:8c:

“And the priest shall make atonement for her, and she shall be clean”.

Then slowly, I felt the cloud pull away from my sun and I felt peace.

Sometimes we get so use to things being ‘just a little bad’ that it doesn’t bother us. But then the enemy adds a little on top of that, until it becomes part of the pile. And the next thing we know, our ‘little’ is a huge mountain that we have no idea how it got there.

I finally took a stand today, and stopped the sadness before it got worse (Mark 9:42-44).

One small victory; one huge step in the right direction.

This is a Call Out

I remember when I first discovered this song; I thought it was my life to the 'T'. It's like Trevor himself wrote about me, as if I told him all the details of my life and my situation and he wrote it in a song for all to see. 

“She fooled all of her friends into thinking she's so strong,
But she still sleeps with the light on,
And she acts like it's all right on, as she smiles again.

Then her mother lies there sick with cancer,
And her friends don't understand her,
She's a question without answers, who feels like falling apart.
She knows, she's so much more than worthless,
She needs to find her purpose,
She wonders what she did to deserve this, and…”

Thousand Foot Krutch is my second favorite band (of all time). And this song is my second favorite song. I don't think I've ever actually stated either of these facts on this blog. If you've been reading my blog for any long length of time you would know what my favorite song it ('Wishesand Dreams') and who my favorite artist is (Stellar Kart), because I talk about them ALL the time. 

However, TFK has a very special place in my heart and in my life. A private/intimate place.

Whenever I'm going through a medium to difficult situation in my life, my first response is to turn TFK on. I don’t know how many times I’ve cried to myself and/or wrote journal entries with TFK blasting in my ears. I relate to so many of their songs, this song is just one of many songs I feel were taken from my journals.

I discovered TFK at my very first Acquire the Fire event. Ha ha, it really is quite funny how my life kind of revolves around ATF. Anywho, I had just started listening to Christian music and seeing TFK perform live on this huge stage with hundreds of people all around me and their music blaring through the speakers – something just clicked. After the concert I went to their table and I bought all the CD’s they had released at the time. I then went home and listened to their music NON-STOP.

This all happened a few months before my mom died.

I vividly remember sitting in the car, being driven home from school, Air1 playing on the car stereo when this song came through the speakers. Like I said in the beginning of this entry, it was my life to the very detail.

I had just started to self-harm, my mom was in the middle of her fight with pancreatic cancer, and I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about how I was feeling or thinking. I was so confused, lost and scared; and there was Trevor singing my story.

“She's calling out to you, this is a call; this is a call out,
'Cause every time I fall down, I reach out to you,
and I'm losing all control now, and my hazard signs are all out,
I'm asking you, to show me what this life is all about.

Have you ever felt this way before?
'cause I don't wanna hide here anymore.
Take me to the place where nothing's wrong, thanks for coming, shut the door.
They say someone out there sees us,
Well if you're real then save me Jesus,
'cause I've been this way for far too long.
I wasn't meant to feel alone.

Show me what this life is all about
Show me what this life is all about”

I played this song over and over and over. It became my anthem for a very long time; it became a part of me.

This is one of the songs that started my love affair with music.

Whenever I hear this song, I can’t help but remember this hard time in my life. But, I’m glad to say, that I no longer see it with pain and hurt.

God knew what He was doing. He placed me at that ATF, in that seat for a reason. He knew I would connect with TFK. He knew I would become obsessed with their music. And He knew that this song would be the rope I desperately needed to cling to. He knew that seed would get me through the hard years ahead of me.

He gave me a gift; a precious, life altering gift, that I will always be grateful for.

Song: "This is a Call" by Thousand Foot Krutch

She Shall Be Clean

I listen to this song a lot, when I'm grasping for a string to hold onto. I discovered it in my teens (shortly after the song was released), and I instantly gravitated towards it. It's a song about self-harm, felling alone and how God is always there and will never leave you.

“She's pulling down her long sleeves
To cover all the memories that scars leave
She says, ‘maybe making me bleed
will be the answer that could wash the slate clean’"

"will be the answer that could wash the slate clean". This line always stood out to me. I have always said that I cut because it's easier to feel physical pain then emotional/mental pain. However, a lie truth I believe is: 'cutting will make it better'. That somehow by me harming myself will make the pain, problem, and situation better. That magically, seeing my blood will change my circumstance and my life will be "good" and "happy".

But that's never the case.

I was reading in the book of Leviticus yesterday, for Wednesday night Bible study, when I ran across this verse:

“Then she shall be clean from the flow of her blood”. -Leviticus 12:7b

For those who don't know what the book of Leviticus is about, or what chapter 12 is about, the beginning of the book documents the ritual traditions that the Israelites were to follow; and chapter 12 describes what a women is to do after giving birth to become clean again.

Now, I've never given birth and I'm not trying to relate self-harm to the miracle of life - but that verse really stood out to me. 

In my study Bible footnotes, it says: 'The loss of blood signifies that one is incomplete and unclean'.

“And the priest shall make atonement for her, and she shall be clean”. -Leviticus 12:8c

Under the new covenant, Jesus Christ is the high priest and His atonement was His dying on the cross.

definition; atonement - satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends.

For so many years I’ve been placing a blade to my skin to make things ‘better’, when Jesus had already done that. Jesus has already made things ‘better’, He’s already made me clean. No more blood needs to be spilled for my life. Enough blood has been spilled.

And the more I cut myself, the more of my own blood I spill, makes me incomplete. I’m trying so hard to piece myself back together; so why do I continue to tear myself apart?

“Every day's the same
She fights to find her way
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray
She'll be just fine, cause now he hears her when she cries”

Song: "When She Cries" by Britt Nicole

Breathe

I've been obsessing over this song the last few days. It was the breath of fresh air that I desperately needed.

"When heaven seems so far away

And dreams are just a memory

When love is all too hard to hold

Just take a breath and let it...

Go whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh

Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing

Whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh, whoa whoa oh

Just keep breathing, breathing, breathing"

I've been in manic mode the last few weeks. My thoughts have been racing, I've been on edge and triggery. It was like I couldn't catch my breath. I kept gasping over and over, trying to fill my lungs. But instead it felt like they were getting full of water.

There was an incident on Friday, that almost pushed me off the ledge I was teetering on. I've been teetering on this ledge a lot lately, and I've fallen off it most of the time.

But, in this moment, with my mind spinning, my thoughts racing, my emotions in over-drive and my skin craving the blade... My fighting instinct finally kicked in.

"2 A.M., too tired to sleep
When what you want's not what you need
And when these walls don't feel like home
Remember that you're not alone

The beginning's just another end
It's not too late to start again
When hope is all too hard to hold
Just take a breath and let it go"

I sat still. Took a deep breath and forced my mind to clear. I haven't been manic for so long, I forgot how paralyzing it is. I also forgot that I control it, it doesn't control me.

Isn't it amazing what a soothing breath can do? How it can clear your mind. Make your world better. Give you hope.

It's amazing how taking one extra moment for yourself can get you to the next second. I need to remember to take that moment more often. 

"When heaven seems so far away
And dreams are just a memory
Without the dark the light won't show
Remember that you're not alone
When you watch the world just turn away
And break the promises it made
When love is all too hard to hold
Just take a breath and let it go"

Song: "Just Keep Breathing" by We The Kings

You Can't Run When You're Holding Suitcases

This song sends me mixed signals, which makes me love and hate it.

“You can't run when you're holding suitcases
It's a new day, throw away your mistakes
And open up your heart, lay down your guard
You don't have to be afraid”

I am always envisioning myself running away. I see myself running away from my family issues, my mental & emotional state, my financial hardships and my life in general. In these fantasies, I see myself with bags in my hands, throwing them into Thomas and driving away into the sun-set, blasting TFK.

“Just breathe, your load can be lifted
There's a better way when you know you're forgiven
Open up your heart, lay down your guard
You don't have to be afraid

There's nothing holding
You back now, just run”

On days that I love this song, it encourages me to leave my problems behind me and to hold my head up high and face the world with determination. On days that I hate this song, it torments me with the realization that I need to leave my problems at God’s alter and allow Him to take my problems and heal my ravaged heart.

“Can you imagine what it's like to be free, oh, oh, oh?

Well, send those bags packing, they are not what you need, oh

Abandon your troubles by the side of the street

Just let them go now, believe me”

However it doesn’t matter what day it is when I’m listening to this song, it always makes me dance and smile. Because I know when I do abandon my hurts and pains, I’ll be happy and free. 

And who doesn’t want that? 

Song: "Suitcases" by Dara Maclean

God Made Me

I was asked a question yesterday that really got me thinking. The question was: "What do you do that makes you stand out? What makes you different?"

I thought about the question for a few seconds, and my first response was nothing. Nothing makes me stand out. And I almost spoke the words aloud, making them true. But, I bit my tongue and really thought.

A friend of mine always says that I amaze her, that I encourage her and my fighting spirit gives her strength.

"Whenever I fall down, I always get up." The words just flowed out of my mouth.

"And why do you always get up? What motivates you to get up?"

"Because I know that God will always be there for me. To help me up." Again, the words just flowed.

I doubt myself all the time. And honestly, I think very low of myself; of my strength, courage and relationship with God. I see myself as never being able to reach satisfactory.

People tell me that I’m kind, sweet and caring; that I’m genuine and honest. But all I hear is that I’m full of anger, hate and bitterness; that I’m a horrible person and worthless.

So when people say positive things about me, it throws me off. I don't understand why or how people can see me in that way.

Then in a loving whisper God reminds me that I am those things. The positive ones. God made me that way. He made me to be my flamboyant, loving, mischievous self. Even if I can’t see it myself, others see it, because it’s who I am.

It’s the way God made me.

It’s my light.