Broken

Broken is a good place to be. God's love can't get in when we put up walls. The walls need to come down. Hammering at my heart with a sledgehammer hurts, but it works. Breaks, but its good. A terrible good, full of suffering, but the kind of suffering that leads to joy. Dante walked through the fire for Beatrice, for love. I want to do the same. Because fire purifies. And once you've gone through the fire, the old loves, old habits, old fears and failures and follies are all burnt away and a new creation is left.

Falling hurts. Learning to ice skate is painful. You stand insecurely, barely upright, unable to move forward. And you fall. Again and again and again. And no bones are broken, no fatal wounds are sustained, so you can't call a doctor. But you bruise your knees and hands over and over and over. Ripping a newly formed scab off doesn't just keep you from healing. It makes things worse. And you fall, and stand up, and fall, and stand up, and you aren't moving anywhere because you can't even stay upright long enough to take the first step. It feels like you're breaking from the repeated bruising. So you try to find something to steady you until you have strength. You grab onto someone. And it works, and you start to take a step, so they let go, and you feel insecure, and you fall. And you grab onto something else, pull yourself up, and it slips away and you fall. Only one thing will hold you up forever, but you've got to run to it. And you can't even stand. But you have to stand up if you're going to run forward.

Run to God, they say. But I can't even stand up. God, you're going to have to run to me. Please be my strength, cause I don't have any more. I can't love, can't run, can't strive or strain anymore. God hold me please, cause I've got nothing else. Everything I've loved, I'm losing. Help me to hold a thing loosely...by prying it away from my deathgrip, if need be.

I can't keep living like this. Falling, jumping up, falling, jumping up. I've gotta just run. All the energy that goes into crashing and soaring needs to stop and go into running to God and loving Him. A friend told me last night, that I need to believe I'm worth it first. Before i can try to love others, love God, fix myself, I need to believe that God ransomed me because I am worth it to Him.

But I'm not worth it, my mind and heart cry out. I've fallen so far. I've hurt so many people. I'm breaking, I'm killing myself, I'm bruised and bleeding, helpless and hopeless. Why would Christ, the perfect lamb, shed His blood for someone like me? No, not for someone like me, for me. Because I am worth it. To God. And to those who still love me when they've seen me at my worst. I can't say "Screw this, I am pretty freakin' awesome." Not yet. But God has said "Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life." (Isaiah 43:4). And I believe it. Jesus loves me, this I know. And His love has to outweigh all the condemnation I feel. Because if I reject His love, I spit in the face of a bleeding, dying Savior. So if God says so, I am worth it. So I'll keep running. Cause I've got nowhere else to go.

Breaking

‎"How did I get here? I'm not who I once was. Am I crippled by the fear that I've fallen too far to love?"-Tenth Avenue North, "You are More"

Falling apart, spiraling out of control. My life the past few days has been one miserable failure to love. Anxiety, depression, strain and stress and a breaking heart, coupled with physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion and the cares and frustration with running on 60-70% energy almost constantly have broken me.

I have no strength. I can't fight, I can't love, I'm slowly unravelling and I'm going to end by hurting everyone I've ever loved. A walking disaster of bitterness and betrayal, abandonment and angst, bump me and I'll bleed toxic waste. I've already hurt people I love, and that's killing me slowly, bleeding out from an imperceptible wound. Throughout the past semester, my one comfort was that no matter how much I screwed up, no matter how unhinged I came, I was still learning to love. And now...epic fail beyond that of all epic fails. Eyes wide open, hands free, I destroyed my one security-the belief that I could love.

Crippled by fear...that's so incredibly true. I'm starving for love and acceptance that I've convinced myself I no longer have. I need. So much. And this intense need is driving the very people I need farther and farther away. Without this assurance of love and sense of belonging, I feel like I'm slowly dying inside. But the very pursuit of being loved is killing me too.

I'm too far gone, I think. I'm an emotional wreck. Each mood swing more drastic than the last, the pent-up pressure can only result in an explosion. And when I explode, it won't be pretty. So look out world, cause I'm dying, and I won't go down gently. Slipping into the dark, grasping at straws that I know won't save me, falling off a cliff with nothing to break the landing.

After our Reynolds session last night, my biggest realization was this: Love is the most important thing in the world. And I'm screwing that up. So I'm basically gone, burnt out by a passion I didn't have strength to maintain.

What's In My Head Right Now

"I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, singing "Hey-o, gotta let go" This song always makes me think of crazy awkward dance parties in the back seat of my car. Not a good song to sing while I'm driving. Or at least, not a good song to obey.

Plato. He's pretty awesomeness. Symposium was good on the first read. The second read-through just to skim for key points blew my mind. Pretty sure I'll need to read it again before session. And talk to lots of Morgan House kids about it. And my mentor. And other mentors. And Dr. Reynolds. And then write my paper on it/Anna Karenina and have my mind blown some more.

Love kinda blows my mind. There's just so much of it here. I don't deserve any of it at all, the encouragement, the support, the hugs and compliments and patience. Maybe that's why it's called grace. I don't accept grace very easily. But I am so grateful for it nonetheless.

Grenade. Depressing song. I hope I've never been like that to anyone. I hope I've returned the love I've been given. Cause I'd catch a grenade for all of you...and I know you'd do the same. Still...catchy song :)

Catchy but depressing songs-John Mayer. Kinda mildly obsessed with his music sometimes. Learning Heart of Life on guitar and Dreaming with a Broken Heart on piano would be a successful accomplishment this semester.

It's kinda awkward sitting alone in the caf on a computer, wanting to sing your heart out and not being able to. Not that I'd do it if I weren't alone, but still. I wish practice rooms could fit more people, so people could just come chill while I messed around on the piano. I don't think I hate playing for people anymore. Probably a good thing, since I'll have to keep doing it for the next for years. It's easier with people I trust though.

It's been a long week. Lots on my mind, starting to weigh me down. Sometimes it feels hopeless, all the backsliding into depression and stress and anxiety each time I resolve to simply live and love and rejoice. But God's been there to pick me up every time I've fallen. So I should probably believe that He'll keep being there. And the cool thing is, people have been too. So I should probably stop doubting that they really love me. To everyone I've been driving crazy this week with my irrational fears, I'm sorry. To everyone I've vented to during the worst possible times, I'm sorry. To God, I'm sorry for failing. Thanks for loving me anyways. And for not making my works a condition of your love. Cause otherwise I'd be screwed.

I'm still sick after three weeks of coughing. Sometimes I think I'm just gonna keep coughing for the rest of my life. Which, other than the fact that everything is just sore now, wouldn't be as bad as a perpetual headache or something. But it just makes everything hurt...shoulders, back, ribs, throat, lungs...yadayadayada and I'm gonna stop complaining now. Cause life is pretty good. When my neck hurts, people give me backrubs. When I'm super tired, people give me awesome hugs. When I'm doubting my friends' love, someone tells me how much I mean to them. When I doubt God's presence, He gives me reminders through people, through music, through His word. When I'm hungry for more than I can find on this earth, God reminds me that there is more than this earth to look forward to. When I try and fill a void with guys, music, keeping busy, distractions, etc., God takes it all away, so He can fill the void.

"Have you not known? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted;

but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

They shall mount up with wings like eagles;

They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint"

-Isaiah 40:28-31

Signs

So I've been writing songs again. It's felt good to be back at a piano in a more creationary aspect than I generally do in the conservatory. This doesn't have music yet, but it will.

Signs

v1
I think I'll make a sign
Beware this heart of mine
Cause I know that in time
You'll find out all of me

I'll warn you to take care
Red letters say beware
You say that you don't care
But you won't like what you see

ch
This is your only warning till you walk in, eyes open wide
My heart's a danger zone of fears and shame and pride
But if that doesn't scare you, if you don't run away
Then promise me despite my scars that you are here to stay

v2
These signs are warning you
What comes if you break through
The walls up shielding you
From what you shouldn't know

Think you can handle me?
Not scared by what you see?
Hold my heart carefully
Cause I could still explode

Aspirations

I want to write poetry like T S Eliot, song lyrics like Mumford and Sons, prose like a cross between Charles Williams, G K Chesterton, and Jane Austen, and letters like Paul.

I want to write music like Jonathan Jones, play the piano with the passion of Rachmaninoff and the technique of Bach, understand music like a theory nerd, and love music like a little child.

I want to love eternally like God, unconditionally like my family, generously like my best friends, wisely like John instructs, and with abandon like a girl in love.

I want to dream big, never look back, have no regrets, reach for the stars, fly fearlessly without recoiling from failure, fall down without staying down, trust the trustworthy, love the beautiful, make the ugly into something beautiful, and find something to love in everyone.

I want to fall in love, find my dreams, go where God sends me and stay where He puts me, write what's on my mind, sing what's in my heart, and live with abandon. Love with abandon. Always hope. Always persevere.

I want to be there for my friends, love faithfully and freely, weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice. I want to be a new creation. I want to live like I know I've been forgiven of the greatest sin. I want only to know that I am a great sinner, that Christ is a great savior, and that love can redeem everything.

These are my dreams, my goals, my hopes. This is who, by the grace of God, I hope to someday be.

Change

I hate change. I really do, and I always have. Change is unsettling. When life is good, and things are comfortable and going well, there's no need for change. And when things are bad...they can always get worse. Change, in my mind, is almost always for the worse. And so I fight change and cling to tradition, cling to old friendships and old loves and old habits, grabbing on to weathered and worn weapons to protect me against the terrifying unknown. But sometimes, spring cleaning needs to happen. Sometimes the worn-down habits and strongly-held ideas need to go, need to be cleared away to make room for better beliefs, better friendships, better loves.

So at the beginning of a new semester, because I am a new creation, it's time for some changes. It's time to clear out the cobwebs of my soul and let in a little light.

1) I need to rest. Hectic hustle and bustle is killing me. Stress and anxiety about things I can't control is wearing me down. Rest restores. Rest relieves. But rest is also something I honestly don't know how to practice. So this semester, even with an 18-unit load and on-campus job, I'm going to make it a habit to deliberately and daily rest in the Lord for everything, but also take specific moments in the day to stop. Be still. And rest.

2) Spaces. Because not everything in life is a life-or-death situation, and little things matter. One space between sentences. Because I don't have to be right about everything.

3) Love. I don't get it. But I need to accept it without trying to be worthy of it. I need to give it without wondering how and if it will be accepted. God loves me. And I tend to forget that. But that's where everything starts. If I don't know that He loves me, if I don't remember that His love is unearned and constant, then there's no possibility that I can either give or accept that love. This semester, I want to love God, and remember that I am loved by God, so that I can love the people God has given me to love, and not doubt their love for me.

4) Humility. I may not act like it, but I am a ridiculously prideful person. I don't accept help easily. I don't change easily. With this pride comes a great deal of stubbornness and refusal to change, simply because I have to do things my own way, for myself. And this has hurt not only me, but a lot of other people. To everyone who's been hurt by my stubbornness and refusal to listen, I'm sorry. To everyone who's dealt with the consequences of my refusal to change, I'm sorry. To everyone who's borne with me throughout this past semester and interterm, thank you. The only reason I am a new creation is because Christ has made me so. The only way I can change is because God has given me the desire to change, and because He is making a beautiful thing out of me. This semester, I want to submit. Submit to God's plans for me. Submit to my professors' and mentor's corrections. Submit to my friends' wise insights into my flaws and failings, and then change.

Change is hard. But good. And it never stops, but I am confident of this: that He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

one step forward, half a mile back

Worn out, falling over, grasping at the last straw

hoping it'll hold me up for just a moment longer

hoping with each step I take I'll somehow come out stronger

breaking down, giving up, heart cracked in two through a fatal flaw.

each step forward feels like another mile run

on shattered legs, with rasping lungs

death of everything i thought was given back to me

losing sight of everything I thought I'd finally learned to see

a whirlwind spinning out of control, sweeping away the pieces of my life

dust and debris and dirty broken secrets

regret for all the words I couldn't hold back

feeble apologies, bandaids to hide the knifes I twisted in their hearts

why am i so tired?

stop. peace, be still. rest in the center of the storm,

the still center of the whirling world. do not lose heart

let the wind batter, the world rage, the weight of glory fall

heavy on tired shoulders. He gives me strength to bear it.