Beauty From Ashes

I grew up in a home where there was lots of cursing. I consider myself a "cursing Christian" and am always happy when I meet a fellow CC :). I find cursing to be theraputic and actually once read an article in a health magazine that said studies show that people who swear are less stressed than people who don't. So that's a good thing! But the four letter word I am talking about today is not a "swear word." Love is a four letter word. It's amazing to me how something so amazing and precious and beautiful as love can also bring so much hurt and pain and devastation. There are so many people around me who are experiencing great heartache because of love. Relationships are severed. Strained. Longed for. Complicated. And sometimes, the cynic in me wonders if love is really worth it. Is it really worth all the pain and heartache? We grow up (especially us girls) watching Disney Princess movies and having fairy tales read to us. And in all of these stories the

I am currently in the process of getting a phoenix tattooed on my left thigh. It's huge. It's beautiful. And as the artists in the tattoo shop continue to tell me, it's " badass !" :) I've spent nine and a half hours laying on a table while the BRILLIANT Steve Schram tattoos my leg and I have five hours to go. And oh my goodness, it's been painful! There have been parts that were just irritating and uncomfortable, but bearable. There have been parts that hurt like hell and I just wanted to scream (I've only said the f-word once so far). There have been moments where I've wanted to stop and be done because I couldn't handle it anymore. During these nine and a half hours I've had time to talk to Steve and get to know him and how effing amazing and talented he is, what a beautiful human being he is and what a loving father and husband he is. And I've also had LOTS of time to think and reflect. And this whole process of getting tattooed,

So, I’ve been told by many people that I write well and that I should write a book. I always laughed that off because I’m not an author, sure I was an English major in college, but that doesn’t mean I can write. And yes, occasionally I can spout off something witty or thought provoking after I’ve had an experience, but that would account for a few pages, not an entire book. And what would I write about? I don’t feel like I’ve arrived at anything and have no authority to give people advice on anything. But what if I did write a book? A non-fiction book. What would I write about? People say you should write about what you know. I know about sorrow, loss, heartache. I know about working my ASS off to lose weight only to have it come off very slowly. I know singleness, being an outsider, always feeling like I’m the only one bold enough (maybe dumb enough) to challenge things and ask questions about why they are the way they are. I know what it’s like to be the fat girl wherever I go and AL

Finding The Smile So there’s this blogger that I follow. His name is Ben Davis (bendoeslife.com) and he has lost 130 pounds after discovering a love for running. He has completed countless races and has even completed an Ironman! He’s badass, super funny and easy on the eyes:)!!! Once in awhile he will write something deep and thought provoking, and yesterday I came across one such post (see below). As I read this post, I felt like I was reading my own life - that Ben has been sneaking into my journal and into my head. These last few months of my life have been filled with sadness and a rollercoaster of emotion. And the saddest thing about all of it is that I gave up on me. I decided that I wasn’t worth fighting for. I let the darkness creep in and take over. I allowed comfort to beat out sacrifice. I decided that being sad was easier than fighting to find the joy. I quit on myself. I lost focus. I decided to settle for comfort because it was safe. It didn’t matter that the comfort was

Some of you know that last year I trained for and completed my very first half-marathon. It was one of the most life changing experiences I have ever had. It helped me to realize that all my life I have allowed others to define me and that I didn't really know who I was as a result. All the training and completing the run was about proving something to myself. It was amazing! (See my note More Than A Run for more on that experience.) Well, I decided I was going to participate in the half marathon again this year. Training began a couple weeks ago, and I will complete the run on Mother's Day. I went for a six mile run this morning, and had a bit of an epiphany about my life. You see, when I do something once, I automatically make this assumption that I have conquered it/mastered it and if I do it again, it will be a piece of cake because I know what to expect. Well, I have ran the six mile distance hundreds of times, but today it was a real struggle to complete. And as I was on

Well, it’s been one month since I ran in and completed my very first half marathon! And it’s actually really hard to believe that I did it or that it was even something that was in the realm of my abilities to do (due to my own personal demons and things I was told/experienced as a young lady about myself and who I was and was not). So I have to remind myself that I did actually do itJ. Completing this race was not only good for my body and physical self, but it was so good and needed for my heart and my attitude toward myself and who I am. And what is even more strange is that I’ve had at least a dozen people tell me that I’ve inspired them. It is so odd to me to hear people say that. I’ve never considered myself as inspiring. I’m very flattered, but again, I don’t often believe in my own abilities and impact. So that has been a big thing for me. This whole process has changed my life! It was like my own little personal Breakthrough trainingJ. I never could have imagined how training

Do you ever feel better about yourself/about life when you're around someone? There are people in my life who just make me feel good about who I am. I find myself smiling and laughing a lot more around them because their personalities are so infectious. Do you ever wonder if you get in your own way in life? I wonder this a lot actually. Do my own fears and insecurities hold me back? Have I missed out/passed up some great things because I was scared or unsure? And sadly, I'm positive the answer to this is yes. Do you ever wish you could get away with saying exactly what was on your mind? Gosh, I really wish I could do this….sometimes I don't say things I want to because I'm afraid of the way it might be received and sometimes I don't say it because it may be deemed inappropriate. And sometimes I don't say it because I'm too nice. Do you ever just want to grab ahold of someone and kiss them? Man…I wish I was a little more bold and brazen sometimes! Have you ev

I am going to begin this post with a disclaimer (which probably means I shouldn't be writing it, but I'm going to anyway)....The thoughts and opinions expressed in this post are mine and mine alone. I am speaking only for me and not the enitre female population. And the paragraphs to follow are written with deep emotion (hurt, disappointment, frustration, fear, saddness, lonliness). So these are not always my opinions, just today:). Okay, now that I've got that out of the way...... I have to say that I L-O-V-E, love men. I relate to men much more easily than I do women. I grew up the only girl in a family of tons of boys. Two of my very closest friends (people I would lay my life down for) are men. I trust them completely and adore them with my whole heart. Men are fantastic, really they are. BUT men can be big shallow, self-absorbed jerks sometimes too. What is that all about? Why is it a man can say that he wants a woman who's going to love him for who he is, who'

I have a tattoo on the top of my right foot that's been there for about four years now. When people see it, they always ask me, "What's on your foot?" And I always say it's a heart shaped rock with the hebrew word, hesed, that means unconditional love. And they look at me strangely and I reply by saying that it's a long story, but I have the actual rock that is tattooed on my foot. So, I decided to explain my tattoo here...In the fall of 2005 I had my heart completely shattered. I had fallen in love with a man whom I thought loved me back. It turns out that he did love me, just not enough....basically it came down to this - he cared for me and another girl and had to make a choice and one week after my 27th birthday he told me he was in love with her and wanted to marry her (people work fast in the romance department around here!). I was shattered, broken, devistated. I cried for about three days straight. I didn't know what to do. I thought this was the m

Food and I have quite the history together. It's really a love hate relationship - I love food, and it hates me and my body. I've realized how food treats me and have tried to end the relationship many times, really I have. But it's soooo hard. Food tastes so good, and it can be so comforting sometimes. I know that there are times when I eat my emotions instead of dealing with them. Sometimes sad and lonely is a plate of chocolate chip pancakes or pizza and stressed out is Qdoba and a candy bar....not good, I know. I've decided the only way I can end the vicious cycle is that all food needs to either taste like crap or I need to remove the tastebuds from my tongue....I'm just kidding, but life really would be a bit easier if food didn't taste so wonderful....But seriously, this is something I'm really trying to work on. I don't want food to rule my life, and I think I'm making pretty good headway on this one. And hopefully one day soon I'll be ab