Thursday, January 27, 2011

God's Sculptures

yay random flower thingy!!!
I feel like it's been decades since I posted on my blog. I've been so busy with school and such. So anyways! I will restart the "What In The World Is Meghann Wearing", I didn't take pictures everyday but the few days I did I'll put them up in one post. So this morning the sky was so beautiful with the streaks of clouds with the sun gleaming through the cracks. It just makes me think of God painting a picture of the sky every night and then putting it up for the world to see in the morning. Same with the night, he paints all day. I can just see God being a master artist, molding this world into His personal active piece of glorious art. So beautiful. When I was in ceramics yesterday, I learned that I like the class when I get to be on the wheel. Who knew that molding a slab of clay on a spinning table top with gooey, clay crusted hands could be therapeutic. I find it to be a calming way to end the day, it takes the whole class period and either you make something or you don't. If you don't well then you start all over the next day, or whenever the wheel is open again. There becomes a point in your craft that you can tell if something resembling a bowl or a mug or a vase will be the product of your work, and when you know it's not, it's so much fun to just muck with the clay. Make a weird shape or see how distorted the clay will be on a wheel. During my mini adventure with the clay in my fingers, I can only think about God molding our world, crafting it in the way He desires, perfectly. I'm God's ceramics project haha, I am his art, masterpiece, and he wouldn't spend so much time on making me the way He wants, if it wasn't worth it. When you make something worth keeping on the wheel, you feel confidence and satisfaction with yourself. It's a pretty cool feeling, I can only imagine that this is how God feels about us and this world; whether its painting the sky or shaping the mountains or sculpting us, He loves what He does.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

So many students just see this day as an extra day to do homework, or another day to sleep in, or a day to get to the next level on their Xbox360 game. The meaning, the power, the dream, can be lost. It seems so long ago to people under 18, that Martin Luther King Jr. made his speech. In reality in the span of history, its not that far  away that society segregated "blacks" from "whites", that "whites" treated "blacks" as a lesser form of human. King helped change lives of millions, make it possible for people to believe in hope, make America the free country it claims to be. Religion, gender, race, sexual orientation, should all be irrelevant to the judgement of a person's soul. We are working down the list, first religion was accepted, then women started to work their way to the same respect of men, then race as MLK shared his dream and so many others reinforced that with boycotts and such, now we are working on allowing America's freedom being accessible for the lesbian, bisexual, gay, transgender and questioning (LBGTQ) community. Should we not make this day relevant to all freedoms? King believed that all people are made equal and we deserve all the same rights, at the time the big deal was the racism, but now in our modern society we limit LBGTQ, should we not aim for a completely free society? I strongly believe as long as someone isn't hurting themselves or anyone else, they should be aloud to live as they wish. Isn't that the purpose of America? Isn't that our desired reputation? Don't forget the power of this day, of how millions of people were effected by this day, how it enhanced a revolution of freedom. Lets not forget that everyone deserves freedom, everyone. Lets not forget Martin Luther King.

Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies - or else? The chain reaction of evil - hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars - must be broken, or else we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.
Martin Luther King Jr.

If we are to go forward, we must go back and rediscover those precious values - that all reality hinges on moral foundations and that all reality has spiritual control.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

What In The World Is Meghann Wearing? #3

This is my church outfit; a white strapless shirt with a ruffle around the top, and patterned with blue polka dots, a tan jacket that is super light weight with satin on the inside and summerish haha, white wide legged pants with light grey pin stripes and blue shoes with pink polka dots and a little ruffle on the toe. Simple but fun, people at church liked it <3. Don't miss my previous posts about church. 

Back From Church

I have to say that one thing I love about my church, The Calvary Chapel, is that when we go through books of the Bible, we don't just read it to read it, Pastor Tommy goes in depth for each line and the purpose of each word used. Today we had the opportunity to continue in 2 Corinthians, we focused on verses 7-11. My favorite verse is "In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely on only God, who raises the dead." (2 Corinthians 1: 9) This reminded me of how this past summer, I expected to die, I wasn't expecting to make it past 10th grade, I said my mental goodbyes to this world, but being "at my end", as Tommy put it, made me reach out to the Lord. Tommy used a story about how he was taken rock climbing by another pastor, when he wasn't expecting it, to describe how when he was at his end with fear on a fifty foot tall cliff, with only a rope to secure him, he realized that he just needed to trust in God to go on. That the rope was tied onto a higher rock. That God was his higher rock. When he finally put it in God's hands he made it to the top and he let go. In my life its been a struggle, a 50 foot cliff that I've been climbing, to finally accept my dad's absence, I found my end and I ran towards God. Jumping in God's arms is the most relieving, relinquishing, joyful action I have ever done. Its hard to be vulnerable, I don't like to be vulnerable, and to have God in your life is to be vulnerable to Him. Sometimes it takes finding the end of ourselves to finally cry out in vulnerability and desperation, for us to see the Lord beckoning us into His aura of love. I especially loved how Tommy didn't fail to say that even though we are Christians, we are not granted a perfect, flawless life. That sometimes we are haunted by more troubles, but we now have hope in Jesus, however, that doesn't change the battles of the world. We still live in this imperfect world. When it is said "For we do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, of our trouble which came to us in Asia" (2 Corinthians 1:8), God is telling us that we shouldn't let the worlds troubles and hurt bring us down, but encourage us, we can make it through when God is on our side. That the world will be uncomfortable when we, as Christians, say that there is more to life than the material, and that God is the true way to salvation and love and kindness, but this should encourage us. We know that the Holy Spirit is working through us and onto others. I expected to die, but when I found my faith in God, I discovered that nothing that this world can provide, will ever be enough to sooth me. Only God can sooth me, heal me and make me whole again. Thank you Lord! 

My Worship Song For The Week:
Mighty To Save by: Laura Story

Super Early (for me) Good Sunday Morning

Well hi! Last night I set an alarm for 9:10, hoping it would wake me up. Well I think church gives me some kind of adrenaline rush because the last thing I remember in the little dream I was having, was going to church, and I woke up at 7:53am heart beating fast. My first thought was "hey just go back to sleep take advantage of the time" the second was "hey now you can do laundry before church yay!" Now the strange thing about this is that I rarely have the inspiration to do some kind of chore, so I took advantage of that rather than the time to sleep. I sprung out of bed, turned off my yet to go off alarm clock, turned on some mellow music for some background music, and start separating lights from darks.

Now I've been a bit church deprived this week. I couldn't go to a youth group that I usually attend on Thursdays called Thrive, because I had the opportunity to babysit. I also didn't go to the Wednesday Service either, assuming I was going to join Thrive the next day. So today I am super excited to go to church! I love the people and I feel better connected with God when I'm in his actual church. I know meeting with God shouldn't be restricted to only church, but you have to admit, you feel his presence is a lot stronger there. Its also wild to think that millions of people are meeting at this one day (at least), to experience and talk to God. Sure at any given moment you know people are praying, but on Sundays, its like an energy that sweeps through all of us Christians. I walk into the church and I can just feel the energy and excitement dancing in the room. But most of all I get swamped by this feeling of compassion, and love. Its a feeling that just hits you in the chest, it takes your breath away for a minuet and then you just feel this warm light in your core and you can feel it slowly reach your  heart, and then once it's in your heart, it just pumps through your veins. Even if I come in after a hard week, this feeling does not fail to overwhelm me. I know that when I come in with heavy burdens I can just lay them down, pour my heart out to God; and I know that if someone else comes in with heavy burdens, I am more than willing to help them talk it out and help them present it to God. Once I was talking to a friend from church, Joanna, when she was driving me to Bible Study on a Monday morning, and we were talking about praying; about how childish my first time praying was and what she imagined while she was praying. What she said has stuck with me ever since (this may not be exact quote on quote) "When I am praying to God I just imagine that I walk up to his kingdom and open up the gates and it's white with purity and I walk up to the Lord's throne and I fall on my knees before him as a daughter and just let my heart out, telling him everything, and He sits there listening to me with such love and He says to me 'I have it all under control."' Beautiful right? I just believe that everyone should pray like this, because thats what it really is, you are talking to the King of Kings! He is all power, so he can some how manage to listen to everyone at once but treat it as an individual voice and plea, not as majority, but we each have our chance for a conversation with God. How wonderful! I am so excited for church and I still have another hour and half before it starts hah! I asked my little brother and sister, Cam and Sophie, if they wanted to come with me and they said yes! I'm so excited! But now I should go fold some laundry and take a shower and get dressed and when I get back from church I will post a "What In The World Is Meghann Wearing?" Have a great Sunday morning and remember what Joanna said when you are praying today. I love the Lord!

Saturday, January 15, 2011


No no no no no, not Daryl, not Daniel, not Da'June and most defiantly not Dameesha, its DA-ril, its okay to get funky with it, its the only way some people remember it. I sometimes call her "Dril" just cus I say her name so fast. But she replies to almost anything, I think I called her "coffee" once, it was early in the morning walking into school, on a Wednesday, its hump day what do you want from me, and well she replied. Shes pretty magical, an amazing singer, bass player, drum player, friend, I totally have dibs sooooo shes mine! But I figured I could be generous enough to share her with the world. Well and she asked to be in my blog so this is an introduction to her.

Yes we get weirder by the photo. If you could come up with a caption for this last photo, post a comment with it haha. Don't miss my earlier post from today! 

What In The World Is Meghann Wearing? #2 (yesterday)

So yesterday I came home to my computer that decided to have a mini freak out, it wouldn't even let me open  the Start Menu. I figured I shouldn't tell my parents right away (mom who I know is reading this) because they already believe I have a magic touch of killing electronics; I'm it's own personal kryptonite, or spilled glass of water. Sooooo I managed to start a little virus scan and I'm not sure how it works but my computer was functioning perfectly by the end of the night yay! I owe you a pic of what I was wearing yesterday, (read my last post on why I didn't post right when my computer started to like me again), nothing too exciting haha, but each of the pieces I find difficult to describe. I mean honestly how would you describe that pattern of pants? I'm not even sure of what fabric they are, they are most defiantly not jeans, but they are stretchy, but not like leggings.  I don't know, maybe you could describe it as a printer's throw up, the printer freaked out because of how much it had to print, so it just spewed out slices of paper, some with ink some with out, so you have this weird edgy pattern. As for the shirt, well its a bit more elegant. The red-orange top is strapless and is skin tight except for the extra piece of fabric draped across me. This little piece of fabric may seem useless to people who don't care for the stylish effect, however it is perfect to wrap up a little kitten, you now have a pouch, like a kangaroo, and if the kitten stays quiet you can sneak it away to your house! For you non-cat people, there are always small dogs. Now for the gray sweater thing, it matched and its cold outside. Simple, rather boring, but hey it could become extra warmth to you, and for the kitten/small dog in your pouch. Hurray! 

Friday, January 14, 2011

Lazy, yet hyper?

At this moment, sitting in my room, I've realized that I haven't posted today, and I took a picture to post on what I was wearing. However, that camera is upstairs and I'm sitting in my amazingly comfortable bed, and upstairs sounds like a very very far walk right now and stairs does not help the case. SOOOOOOOO  I will just have to post the picture tomorrow haha. Right now I have the urge to run around in circles, hands in the air, SCREAMING! But in that same breath I could pass out cold. What to do? Well I can't scream, the neighbors would be angry. Hah and you know, its not a big deal that half the house is sleeping, no biggie. But hey a little freak out for the neighbors might be fun, maybe the people that live in my backyard are having a romantic moment and they hear my banshee scream so they pull back the curtains and they see me flailing around like an electrocuted octopus, and then the moment would be ruined. Oh good times. Maybe I will do that when its not below zero and theres not a sheet of ice covered with two feet of snow on the porch. Bummer, I guess I will just have to pass out, so maybe I should end this post before I fall asleep on top of my keyboard and head type a billion of random letters! Goodnight!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

What In The World Is Meghann Wearing?

So everyday (or that is my goal) I will post a picture of what I am wearing for the day. Some of you will be slightly shocked, some will like somethings I wear, but I try and mix it up all the time. I'll also leave a description of what I'm wearing, and if it has any significance I'll share why. Feel free to comment, even if you're reaction is "What in the world is Meghann wearing?" thats okay, I enjoy those reactions

I've invested in new snazzy red lipstick, I did some simple brown/black eye shadow and two messy buns! I look like a cartoon character!

Today I decided to stick to the white, black, red color scheme. I have black tank with a Day Of Silence Shirt, a lacy skirt, with black leggings with zippers going up the side and black boots. The Day Of Silence Shirt does have significance. I am one of the officers of the Gay Straight Alliance (GSA), every year there is a day of silence, it is international, and its to recognize the isolation and muted voices of gay, bisexual and lesbian students who feel they can't express their sexuality or they will be bullied. Let me tell you something about myself, I am not exactly considered a quiet person. Okay thats a major understatement, I talk all the time, I laugh really really really loud and a ton, I talk louder when I get excited and it takes a lot to shut me up (except chocolate usually I'll be quiet if you put a plate of chocolate in front of me). Anyways I did the day of silence with my GSA and the rest of the LGBT (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender) community and any supporters. It was extremely difficult and I will admit that I slipped up and I let out an angry "no" when so many kids were trying to get me talk. I've never felt so much isolation in my life, it was a very emotional day. One of my very good friends Ieva, made a video for the day of silence and I hope we can find it and get it on Youtube, it was incredible.  Its not about the sexual orientation, its about the fact that America prides it's self on granting freedom to whom ever wishes to have it. Yet we contradict ourselves by not allowing people to feel comfortable with their orientation. They can out law sexual orientation as much as they want but it's not going to change the fact that there are people of difference sexual orientation. So what is the point to it? The Day Of Silence is on April 15th, so mark your calenders. Please visit to find out about more. On the back of my shirt it asks a question, which is what I want to leave you with, and I want you to honestly think about it, don't throw it to the side, even ask other people. What are YOU going to do to end the silence? Please comment.

A few links on the day of silence if you are curious:

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The Start; My Testimony and Where I Am Now

(All Photographs are pieces of art made by me, it is apart of an altered book where this was originally written. Thank you for respecting my art and not claiming it as your own)
 “You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment laid out before a single day had passed” (Psalm 139:15-16 NLT). God has a plan for all of us, even if we are prisoners of the lies of the devil, God loves us and is always ushering us into his arms. God lets us go through heart aches and pains to mold us as people, “…we run into problems and trials… we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead us to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us…” (Romans 5:3-5 NLT), so I can’t say I regret my pain. My Aunt Rachel told me that hell is life without God; the hopelessness of it and the hole in your heart that only God can fill. Who knew that the most significant spiritual event in my life would be walking through hell and unexpectedly, being flown out with God’s wings?

(This is a degas print that I glued into the book and wrote lyrics around it. In brown is representative of the older good memories with my dad, it has a song we always listened to Don't Take The Girl by Tim McGraw. The blue is how I see my dad now, it has the lyrics of Because Of You by Kelly Clarkson)
Part 1 History
“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the lord” (Ephesians 6:4 NLT)
“Fathers, do not aggravate your children, or they will become discouraged.” (Colossians 3:21 NLT)
“Since we respected our earthly fathers who discipline us, shouldn’t we submit even more to the discipline of the Father of our spirits, and live forever?” (Hebrews 12:9 NLT)
Growing up my dad, Anthony was never readily available for my typical childhood needs. I was only there when it was most convenient to him; when there was nothing else to do but pretend to be a father, to uplift his own ego. Blinded by childish innocence, I never perceived my father fitting into the deceitful mold. I solely perceived him as “the Disneyland dad”, the parent who never disciplined me. It wasn’t until about 4th-6th grade that my dad consistently saw me every other weekend. My dad was married to a woman named Dana and she had two kids from her previous husband. Dana was from a Greek family and our Thanksgivings and Christmases consisted of exuberant meals with the tastes of Greek food and sometimes French food was thrown in the mix from a married-in uncle from France. The boisterous family always managed to cram everyone at one long table. A warm family aura danced with the smells of baklava, crème brulèe, lamb, cheese, mash potatoes and cinnamon candles that scented the air.
I was the classic daddy’s little girl. My dad was a baseball coach; I have probably been to more baseball games and practices than people who play baseball. The scent of the dirt, clean cut grass, sweat, even the feeling of nerves that would fill a baseball field or dugout; my mind turns to my dad. One of many things of course; our tradition and pattern consisted of legs and feet falling asleep on the tough carpet learning every card game in the book and mixing junior mints with pop corn at every new movie that hit the theaters, paint smudged on my cheek and the colors of the rainbow covering my father’s big, thick, roughed out fingertips, we painted for hours on end, I dreamed of becoming as great as him one day. My creativity never failed to stop there; I would set up a stage in our basement and perform a dance I made up minuets before, for him. I made him random pictures just to say “I love you”.  My main memories from my father though, were the drives down to Denver with a playlist I will never forget; Drive by: Alan Jackson, Dreams by: Van Halen, Where the Streets Have No Name by: U2, Grown Men Don’t Cry by: Tim McGraw, ect. Our voices would drown out any chance of silence. The time would go by just as quickly as the road would disappear under the car’s bumper. Within the two or more hours of alone time, I managed to pour out my, everything to my father, trusting him to only have my best interest in mind. That car had witnessed everything from tears to blasting music to howls of laughter, but never saw a minute of silence until the day he told me that he wanted to divorce Dana…  

Originally my dad told me that he was divorcing Dana, (which I later learned was a lie and it was backwards). I didn’t just lose Dana and that vociferous family, but my dad drifted away as well. It was 7th grade and I couldn’t fathom that my “loving” dad could have abandoned me, I thought maybe he died and my grandparents on that side couldn’t reach me. Naturally I just made up excuses for him constantly. I was still wrapped up in his lies and skillful manipulation. I guess you could say I was in shock because it never really hit me he was gone, until he just showed up at my 8th grade continuation. My first instinct was to run up to him and jump in his arms like I was 7 again. Once again I went with my natural instinct to defend my dad and said that there’s no way that he would just leave me or forget me, in my conditioned mind, there must be, has to be some reason behind it. Disappointingly, his appearance was merely just that, an appearance, like footprints in the sand on the beach; you swear you just saw them but the waves washed them away. He made maybe a few other appearances afterwards but the years separating each one multiplied. Finally I told him I had enough, that he was hurting me more than helping me. That he needed to leave and let the relationship start on my own terms.
My views on myself were twisted inside out. I had this constant feeling that haunted me; I was going to dissolve into the wallpaper if I didn’t have some way to stand out. My efforts wavered between everything from dressing weird, to talking loud, to putting off the persona of not caring what anyone thought, to dance, to writing. I couldn’t fade away; I needed to make my mark in some way. My relationships with people became more of a desperate cling than a loving hold; constantly afraid that they are going to evaporate.  If my dad can forget about me, the very man who saw me grow from pigtails, to a full-fledged 14 year old, anyone can disregard me. What did I matter? Half my family gave up on me, I must not be worth anything… right? I must not matter so I can do anything, to my body, to my emotional state, to my reputation, it doesn’t matter…right? One thing about my dad is that he’s infamous with having a way with words. He knew just how to talk himself out of anything, he wasn’t stupid. He knew people’s weaknesses and knew how to take strengths and manipulate it so it is a weakness. My “weakness” was generosity, compassion, forgiveness. He takes advantage of that, he has blurred my line of what is giving too much and what is just enough. Oh my daddy needs help with money, sure he can borrow the $20 my mom gave me for shopping… oh my daddy is going through a rough time I shouldn’t be so harsh and use his unexplained disappearances against him. He knew. He planted the thoughts “be kind, generous and forgiving.” He purposely made the lines hard to distinguish. In his head, he owned women. I was merely a toy that he could just throw away whenever. Because I’m a woman I’m worth nothing if my father says so…right? If my own father doesn’t want me, no one will…right?
Jesus has a plan for me he knew that it was too soon for me to even consider accepting him in my life, I was a prisoner of sins, lies and the deceitful enemy. I shuddered at the idea of a bible. I felt like someone would have performed an exorcism if I were to try and walk into a church. I made fun of people who prayed, “Oh talking to your imaginary friend again?” How do you know that Jesus wasn’t a delusional man that was personally convinced that he was the “Son of God”, what does “Son of God” even mean? It’s all just a fantasy and God couldn’t possibly be real…right?

(If you can tell or not there is words written around the girl, it says :dress me up and hide my pain)
Part 2 Cascade
“…and I was just walking on one fine wire but It's frayed at both the ends and I'm slow unraveling”(One Fine Wire- Colbie Caillat)
If someone were to glance down at my life from a bird’s eye view looking down on a city, only the surface would be visible; a sophomore in high school, the first year on dance team; a developing and devoted dancer, a first serious boyfriend, I was hyper, loud, giggly, couldn’t-care-less-about-what-others-think type of girl. From a bird’s eye view you can’t see any of the quirks and turns and ditches and stray raggedy dogs that inhabited the darker corners. Looking down I was a 2 dimension happy-go-lucky girl. It’s not until you land from that flight, decided to walk down the old cracked roads and suppress the fear of turning down the darker allies and listen to the echo of my thoughts. It’s not until then it is apparent that honestly I was walking on a tightrope from one sky scraper to another and both ends of the wire were frayed. The “happy” surroundings in my life were designed as a dedicated deliberate, distraction. I didn’t fully pin point it that I wasn’t fully intact on the inside. I only had the gut feeling that if I were to spend too much conscious time alone with myself; let all the hurt catch up with me, I’d shatter. What I didn’t see was I was holding back the explosion of a volcano and that build up only makes the final eruption that much more agonizing.
 Through the end of the 10th grade school year I put on a smiling mask so no one could see the webbed cracks of my glass heart. I couldn’t even tell my own boyfriend that I was going to crumble from the inside out, because it would only hurt him to know. I need to focus on him, he is hurting too, he is more important, I can’t tell him… right? And if I can’t tell him I defiantly can’t tell anyone, ever. In my head his story was my reasoning. I would constantly remind myself it could be worse. Ultimately he was the perfect distraction. He admired me for who I was, encouraged me to grow and he was my first love. I felt that I couldn’t fall apart and let him down, he deserved much better than I could provide.  
My depression began to overwhelm me; if I didn’t do something then I would drown in my own pain. I needed some form of release. By this point I stopped everything, I didn’t dance, I didn’t write, I wouldn’t draw, but I couldn’t see past the fog of my depression. I didn’t know I dropped everything. But this pain needed to disperse. Not seeing how I was taking a nose dive, I decided that the only way I could be relinquished of this pain was to scratch my wrist. I managed to convince myself that it wasn’t a bad thing;
(The actual page this part of the essay is on)

It’s not that bad it could be worse; at least I’m not hacking away at my wrist with a razor…right? Besides my dad doesn’t care about me why should I care… I’m just a waste of time I couldn’t even keep my dad around… I have everything under control…right? It’s my body I can do what I want with it. Only I can hurt myself see, only me.
 I could feel the pain get stuck in my throat, a lump that I knew I couldn’t get rid of… but the release, of “scratching” seemed to free me for a moment. And I craved that moment like a heroin addict craves that first high. The “scratching” became an addiction; I needed it to feel like I had control over my body, my mind, my life, my worth; but trying to free myself of pain by using physical pain, was just as useless as chasing for a first high. I didn’t want to think anymore. It seemed like I had another person snarling in my ear, constantly reminding me how unworthy I am, my mind was in constant battle;
 you don’t even deserve a boyfriend, you’re only hurting him… half your family doesn’t want you… you’re not even good enough to be on the competitive dance team… why are you writing? You can’t write you will never be good enough to amount to anything…”
 “I need to get rid of my thoughts.”
 You are nothing your father doesn’t even think of you…”
“I need to escape!”
 Your boyfriend is only with you because he feels sorry for you…”
“Please! Leave me alone!”
“Your own mother doesn’t even notice you anymore…
“You’re fragile, weak, you act like a baby there’s so much worse…”
“How do I stop this?!”
“Why don’t you just kill yourself…?”
“That’s it… my escape.”
When that thought slithered into my mind it never went away. The whisper of sense of worthlessness inflicted on me became my own thoughts, no longer an argument with a stranger. The opposing thought of actually being worth something was drowned out. It wasn’t necessary for another opinion, my own were twice as damaging. From then on I had 10 ways to kill myself no matter where I was, at any time. My mind was plagued with “it could be worse”. Focusing on what could be worse allowed me to disappear in the fog; I couldn’t see how horrific my thoughts were. Only the knowledge of always having a way out if the thoughts were too heavy for me to bear, kept me going. Conceiving ideas of suicide became a distraction; if I lost it, then I would have to focus on all of the pain.
I reached the eruption point. All I wanted was my parents to HATE me. “Then they won’t care when you die”. I wanted to be out of the world, NOW. I was done, I quit.,  I fail, the world obviously doesn’t need me and is better off without me My father doesn’t want me, it shouldn’t be hard to get rid of the other half of the family… right? That night, I was at such a suicide risk my mom took me to the ER. The ER didn’t make me want to stay alive any more than being suffocated by my own house did. The ER smelled of plastic, cleaning supplies and hand sanitizer. It was too clean, it seemed staged like a movie scene. It only reminded me of the staged smile I put on my face so many times before. The plastic chairs stuck to my bare skin and when I stood up it felt like taking off a band-aide. My face was red, tear streaked and my eyes were throbbing, they had run out of tears to shed. I couldn’t even look over at my mom but I knew she was suppressing tears so she could sign me in.
“What seems to be the problem” the man at the desk asked,
“My daughter is suicidal and I’m scared I can’t keep her safe…” my mom simply put. I had never really heard anyone call me suicidal until then. It didn’t hit me that I was suicidal until then. I knew that I didn’t want to suffer anymore, but I never put the label “suicidal” on it. I don’t know why it made such a difference but when I heard the words tumble off her lips, a new wave of sorrow hit. This sorrow wasn’t for me though. She was “scared”. How could I ever even believe that I could make this woman hate me; the woman who I held on to crying after watching a sad movie, the woman who told me how when she looked at me when I was born and knew that she couldn’t stay with my dad, the woman who said “she’s a pain in the ass now but she will be one kick ass woman!” It was virtually impossible. So I cried my selfishness thrown in my face by one word “suicidal”.  The doctors called in my therapist, the same one who has been with me my whole life, she saw me go through the whole process of my dad disappearing. I didn’t want to talk to her at first, I can’t lie to her, I’ve tried it doesn’t work; if I talk to her then she won’t let me escape.
On this summer night we decided that I needed new scenery, and time to heal. My mom was texting my Aunt Rachel at the time and she offered to take me for the rest of the summer, I don’t know what jumped in me, but I instantly knew that was where I needed to go. Looking back I just see God guiding me to him when I was blind. 
“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end its right, I hope you have the time of your life” (Good Riddance- Green day) 

(Thought For Photo When Made: Before I was filled with darkness even though there was light around me, now I am the light and the darkness is behind me)

Part 3 Resurrection
“…he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory” (Isaiah 61:3 NLT)
My last two months of summer were spent in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was prescribed an anti depressant and I was sent off within the week of my little ER trip. My Aunt Rachel is the person who I couldn’t ever fool. When I got into her car after the two hour flight, the first thing she asked was
“How are you?” After the months of conditioning myself to robotically respond this question with a plastered on smile and automatically responded,
“I’m good thanks how are you?” Her response was just as quick as mine,
“Liar,” Flashing a smile at me she added “but I love you.”
Digging into something that I had constantly been burying for months was harder than I anticipated. Before I could start digging I needed to rid of any distractions or unnecessary stresses. With unfortunate timing my boyfriend and I were in an argument, because I wanted to take a break because needed to focus on myself. I came out of the argument a single girl. With this blow, I felt like I had time deprived from me. I was angry at him, for giving me more wounds to heal over when I already had plenty of other scars to heal.
Aunt Rachel took me to church; she is the type to sit in the front. I didn’t connect with anything that was said. I honestly felt like I was invading an intimate moment for most of the people there. Like I wasn’t in on the secret of what they were feeling. I was an intruder. My aunt told me that even if I don’t believe it, the Lord loves me.

(Once again this represents change before, I was a ballerina stuck in a cage in a dark world, now I am a free dancing ballerina in a world full of life)
One night I went to a Wednesday church service with Rachel. A song was played called “Better Than a Hallelujah”, I found my eyes wet with tears. I was immediately embarrassed, me a non- believer crying in church. God isn’t really real…right? Later that week at Rachel’s house we went to my little cousin’s room to paint it, Rachel is amazing at painting rooms, she was doing alternating dark blue and light blue stripes. Truly the hardest part was taping so the stripes would be straight. I was lying on the top of the bunk bed just simply telling her if the tape was straight or not. Somehow the topic of what I was doing with myself after high school came up. I was slightly thrown off by it because for the past few months I hadn’t even considered being able to live past 10th grade. I honestly didn’t know. I still didn’t feel good enough for anything,” there are people out there with so much more talent and knowledge and skill than I had. How could I ever amount to anything? All I know how to do is dance, which I’m barely any good at, I can kind of write, I’m not good at art anymore, I just think people think I’m way better than I really am.”
“You are so full of your own shit, so convinced of this bull!” my aunt Rachel exclaimed, “you can’t let you’re crappy father have such an effect on how you see yourself, because I know this isn’t you talking, you are so full of shit!” I started to defend myself but it was useless because she was right, I was allowing Anthony, to man who dares to call himself my father, the one who can’t emotionally handle himself so he abandons his daughter! I started to get angry at myself for letting someone control me when they weren’t even there! Then the song “You Found Me” by the Fray bounced off the speakers, Rachel said something that will always stick with me “Most of the time when someone asks where God was during the hard times, when they look back they see he was there the whole time he was there but they turned their back on him, and he can’t help you if you don’t want him.”  All of sudden this wave of emotion and power hit me and nearly knocked the breath out of me, and the words “I want to know more about God” danced off my lips. What was more surprising was that they were honestly true, the most honest thing I have said in my life. My Aunt instantly dropped her paint brush and ran down to the basement yelling “be right back” over her shoulder. Sitting there alone in the half painted, pain scented room, I cried. However it wasn’t the same tears that had harassed me for the past few months; these tears were joyful, because I knew and I know that Jesus wasn’t a delusional man that was personally convinced that he was the “Son of God”, or that God was some imaginary friend people talked to. How did I know? I could feel him, his arms were around me, I could feel his very breath reviving mine.
Rachel was back in a flash was a box of journals and books; journals that she took on mission trips and her walk to Ameas(sp?). I climbed down from the bunk bed with a thump and sat down and began to read as much as I could through tear blurred eyes. My heart managed to beat twice as fast.
               The next morning we went to church and I went as a believer for the first time. I was like a new born, uneducated, hungry and raw to this new world of hope. When I prayed for the first time I didn’t know what to say but I knew the Lord was just as excited as a parent hearing their children mess up their first words. When I got home I needed to find a church, I needed to be as close to God as possible. I was hungry and I wasn’t about to wait around to ease that hunger. My mom, being a wedding planner knew a pastor that she liked and guessed that I would like him as well. Pastor Tommy, he is one silly, enthusiastic man of God. Now I’m involved with the youth group in the Calvary Church called Thrive, I attend a bible study every Monday, I go to morning church and night church every Sunday so I can hear the youth pastor Ben speak and the senior pastor Tommy speak. I go to Wednesday night church for the truth project. I am on fire for God. Is life perfect? No, just because you’re in a relationship with Jesus doesn’t mean that your life will all of a sudden become easy. There’s always evil out there, always the devil tempting people with sin and lies dancing in and out of the media. However knowing that Jesus flew me out of depression and out of the darkest spot that my mind had been, I know that he can do anything. I am now a free bird, the cage of depression has been broken. I crave his word, for that’s how he speaks to me. Do I still have confidence issues, and family problems, yes, but would I be the same person if I didn’t, no, will it last forever, no. I know that he would never let me crash and burn, and truly allowing me to go through my tremendous testimony I am now a witness for others, my family and I have a reminder of his power. If I wasn’t in such a vulnerable spot I wouldn’t have ever thought to pursue the Lord, I wouldn’t have the experience under my belt. Now I’m a wiser woman.

(I am now pure with God's love)

               I was dead on the inside; I went through the hell of hopelessness. I don’t regret it; no matter how painful it is too look back. I am now a free bird, who is just learning to fly again, I can gladly say I’m a survivor, and the Lord saved me when no one else could. I am worth so much more than I ever thought, I am a daughter of the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, my Savior, and I have the Father I never had. I don’t need to look at Anthony expecting him to be the dad I want him to be, or look at him and depend on his opinion to define my worth.  “The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice of you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17) I am a woman of Jesus and every breath I take is now fuller, stretching every bit of my lungs to full extent of my diaphragm. His love comforts me when I stumble, his word reassures me. I can’t help but share how amazing I feel about him. I now know that Christians aren’t trying to take over the world when they share the gospel, they are simply just trying to spread the immense love they feel, and bring people in to share Jesus just like Andrew in the book of John “Andrew went to find his brother, Simon and told him, ‘We have found the Messiah’(which means Christ)” (John 1:41). The excitement that has me leaping for joy just can’t be contained. Thank you Lord Jesus, thank you. Who knew that the most significant spiritual event in my life would be walking through hell and unexpectedly, being flown out with Your wings?