We all have stories we shall never talk about..

Sometimes no one can see the truth except the person carrying it, living with it, going to sleep with it, tangled to it in bed, limb to limb.

The breakdowns in the showers that turn to long baths aren’t seen by anyone, neither are the immobile moments spent on the cold floor because it hurts too much to move because you keep thinking, doing so will finally be the act that makes you shatter.

It’s only behind closed doors that you cling on to your bed under the sheets and you keep thinking, “I don’t have to justify myself, my emotions are mine.” It’s only the silence surrounding you that makes you realize that even the absence of sound can be so deafening, so drowning.

Sometimes no one can see this because sometimes saddens, the gravity drowning your heart along with a million other things, comes in short skirts and burgundy lips in heels, walking from bar to bar, with a vodka water in hand, downing a tequila shot. Sometimes she wakes up even when she doesn’t wish to open her eyes up to the sun. Sometimes she wakes up with bouncy hair, a smile, a laugh so loud it resonates. Sometimes sorrow comes in the most beautiful, colorful and beguiling of disguises.

Because sometimes all we want to do is buy a ticket and jump on a train to destination anywhere, with a stop that leads to a place other than where this heaviness is, where you don’t have to think about what hurts you and face it everyday.

So we shave our legs, and do our hair, and we paint our faces literally and figuratively, even though doing so takes up all the remaining energy inside of our bodies, even though it hurts our heavy bones.

Sometimes coping just comes in forms of pretending. So we stop ignoring the ringing of our phones, make plans  and talk to  friends who have no idea of anything, hit the streets and let the city lights course through our veins.

We fall back into old habits – bad habits – with way too much ease. We’re thirsty, high and drunk on the act, we’ve got chatty mouths, hungry hands, and a fake light in our eyes. We begin to tear ourselves apart, yet again, in different ways only to let this heaviness out of our heart.

No, sadness isn’t always lying around crying, it rarely is, it also isn’t always curling up in a fetal position, numb and still, letting each hour dwindle away like petals on dandelions. Sometimes heavy hearts is what you wouldn’t expect, sometimes it’s moving too fast, baring too many teeth, it’s the loudest of laughs. Sometimes it comes with hands in the air, taking a joy ride out with the cool wind sweeping carefree hair.

It isn’t always painted in dark colors, it isn’t always out on the surface or visible to the naked eye. Sometimes it’s splattered in colors brighter than you could imagine, hidden beneath layers and layers of skin. Sometimes it’s holding hands with those you’d least expect on a bench or at the train station, waiting for the train to destination Anywhere.

This heaviness is the story no one talks about, this is the story that you won’t talk about ever… perhaps…

We women are colorful people!

I am the flickering flame threatened with the chance of a rain. The trembling hands after worry paid a visit. I am the lose of breaths after panicking. The heavy tears that travel their way past my exhausted eyes.

I am the steps I have taken, the scars I wear.

The unexpected news that attacks the faintest of hearts.

But.

I am a flower blooming from between the sidewalk crack.
The unforeseeable sunlight coming out to play after a thunderous rain.
I am the electrifying words falling off the tip of a poised pen.
The welcoming waves that continue to kiss the shore we walk along.

I am a riveting page turner just waiting to be devoured by curious minds.
The breeze that dances with the leaves of the highest tree.

I am the anchor that keeps my ship afloat.
The road map to my heart’s deepest desires.

I am radiating absolute beauty,
the kind of beauty that is imperfect but still leaves you breathless for more.

I am fierce as the lightning striking our earth’s surface.
The mold of all who came before.
I am woman, and you’ll hear me roar.

 

I’m Learning To Be Still….

Nothing stays the same; nothing is constant – This is something I’ve  come to discover in this 20 year journey.

Although obviously, I knew it, I just kept fighting my way through.

I have always wanted to make sense of what is happening around me, I want to know where I am headed, and see beyond the present. I want to go and go and go and rush and take everything in, taste it, spin it around my mind till it makes me dizzy.

But something I am learning is to slow down.

Something I am learning is to be still.

I am learning to quiet the rushing thoughts in my head, I am learning to close my eyes and breath deeply, smell the earth, the sky, the hint of flowery perfume, the cotton of clean clothes,  the sweet sticky fruits fallen on the road.

I am learning to let life happen – to me and around me – and smile even through the storm. I am learning you cannot always have answers held in the palm of your hand or written somewhere on a sheet of paper, ready to be pulled out from your pocket and read when life seems to strays from its path.

I am learning something you know will drastically change, and you will only exhaust yourself trying to keep up, trying to run when you’re only meant to walk, trying to make people love you when they’re meant to be set free.

I am learning to be still.

I am learning to close my eyes and slow things down and make a moment stay, instead of letting it go too quickly  into a faded memory. I am learning to relish the present, to hold onto it as long as I can.

I’m learning that I cannot rush—my decisions, God’s plans, or the feelings written on someone else’s heart. I do not have control of this; I must trust, let go, and let life play out.

I am a character in the movie, not a director, not the one who can rewrite the script or know what’s coming, no matter how hard I try to. And I am learning to trust in this.

I’m learning to stand on solid ground and quit fighting the natural course of events, quit being so damn stubborn when what I think should happen doesn’t, or when what does doesn’t match up with my pre-written plan in the slightest.

I’m learning that stillness doesn’t mean a perfect life, but it does give me peace. And I’m learning that when I stop running wild, stop letting myself be pulled in three different directions, stop thinking I have to know everything—I am in-tune with the people around me, stronger in my faith, and more focused on the people and things that really matter.

I’m learning that when I am still I am not static, but strong. I am prepared. I am whole and have regained my sense of self. I’m learning that when I am still, I am not looking at what’s to come, but celebrating what is, and ready for whatever God has planned for me next.

I am learning that life is even more beautiful when I stop trying to have the answers, when I stop trying to write my own path, when I stop trying to continually be something, be somewhere, and instead just be.

I’m learning to be still.

Independent vs Dependent

I aspire to be a strong woman.

I want to be someone who is capable and confident, poised and proud, tough and resilient, physically and mentally able to fight through any difficult task put in front of her.

Most days, I feel like this woman—powerful and determined, loving and stubborn. But sometimes I put too much faith in my own two feet instead of my God.

I have constant battling thoughts in my head : independent vs. dependent on God. When I think about the things I’ve gone through, the way I’ve fought to become the woman I’ve become, I am proud. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and how I found strength in my body and voice. But then I think about my faith. I think about my God. I think about all the ways He’s strengthened me, given me confidence and the ability to fight. I think about how, because of Him, I have been able to stand after falling down, been able to rise after slipping, been able to push forward after taking so many steps backwards.

I’m stubborn. And I want to take pride in who I am. I want to fend for myself and fight my demons alone. But even if I was the strongest woman in the world, I can’t. I still need my God to help me fight through.

And sometimes that’s hard for me.

I think about the way God has built me and other strong women—stubborn and flawed and resilient and passionate.

And I don’t think He made a mistake.

See, there has to be a balance. As women, there has to be independence and strength within our own feet and hands and brains and bodies. But there has to be a dependence on God.

Yes, you can be a strong woman who loves the Lord. You can be a woman who is dignified, who is faithful, who honors her spouse/boyfriend/authority/superior but also lets her own voice be heard.

You can be a woman who respects others, but also respects and puts herself first sometimes. You can be a woman who is powerful, who is bold, who stands up for her rights and the rights of her sex, but with a soul that shines with Christ’s love.

You don’t have to compromise your faith to be a strong woman; you don’t have to lessen your strength to be a woman of faith.

I think that God made strong women the way we are—a mix, a mess, bodies in conflict—but as He wanted us to be. Sure, sometimes we’re going to test Him. Sometimes we’re going to make the wrong decisions. Sometimes we’ll start to rely on ourselves more than Him.

But our strength is a part of His creation, and I don’t think us strong women need to deny ourselves of that.

You can be strong and love God. You can fight to be who you are and for what you believe in, while still honoring Him as your savior. You can be sometimes stubborn and sassy and too much and a little fierce, but someone who is all those things for God and for others, not just for herself.

You can’t hide or hold back the woman God intended you to be.

Yes, you can be a strong woman.

The strongest, most passionate people make the biggest impact. So keep shining your light and raising your voice with God’s blessing. You have nothing to be ashamed about.

And you are loved, just as you are.

Yes, you can love the Lord.

I am a Woman, Both Soft And Strong

I am woman. I give my hand and a tender heart, open hears and a body that always beckons others in, let them rest against the bed of my chest. I am arms that spread and fold over tired souls, bring them comfort and love. I am solace. I am safety. I am soft.

I smile at people – strangers and friends alike. I’ve grown up believing on the idea that the world is beautiful and that even with the terror, the pain, the brokenness –  there is hope. And I cling to that. I hold it tight between my fingertips, even when the sun falls behind the closed clouds and sharp words roll off tongues.

I am a woman. I am soft. I hold my heart out in my palm and let others touch the warm surface. I listen with my eyes closed and let stories wash over my skin like rain. I speak my emotions to life, I let them run wild like horses through an open field. I do not fear or hold back.

I am soft. I’ve learned to love like I am malleable because love does not stay still and stiff. I try to be gentle and kind,fill my heart with the spirit of patience. I trust because I don’t know how not to. I care because to feign indifference makes my chest ache.

I don’t know how to love with less, how to be cold and distant, how to hold others in an arm’s length. I am a woman with a big heart – I am soft and not afraid to love.

 

But I am also strong.

My body is fluid dancing to the rhythm of the songs on the radio, humming in the light of the sun. My laughter flirts with the wind ; my voice gets lost in the clouds.

My heart is powerful, a deep beat quickening with every measurable step, pumping faster as I pursue all that I believe in and care for.

I love wildly, but not naively. I care passionately, yet always purposely. I am soft but also strong.

I do not let myself be taken advantage of. I take determined steps and stand my ground. I raise my voice and use my head just as much as my heart. when it comes to a crossroad, I take my time – not because I am scared or weak, but because every decision I make is calculated and thought through.

Because I am capable of choosing, of believing, of being my own person, every single day.

I am a woman. I am stubborn and wild. I am tender and compassionate. I am all things bold, but also gentle. I am both loud and quiet, light and dark.

I do not fit into a box. I am not easily labelled, not always understood. Sometimes, I am a little too much, but sometimes I want to be more.

But I will not be stepped upon. I will not be silenced. I will not be told that my body, my mind, my spirit is a little  too loud or my heart is a little too open or closed.

When someone asks, I will not need to explain hoe I love, how I fight, how I live, how I continue to become the woman I am and always will be.

I will simply say, ” I am a woman, both soft and strong”.

And I will let them wonder in my wake.