2013 Reflections

On New Year's Eve of 2012, I received an email from a friend. I was feeling unsocial, uncomfortable in my own skin, and anxious. Her message ended up becoming a mantra of sorts for my year: Wishing you Poetry and Stars.
And, looking back on the year I had in 2013, it was filled with poetry and stars, just not in the way I expected.
One thing I tried to do in 2013 was to write. And I did, almost daily. I kept a running tab, wrote entries filled with whatever I was thinking about that day. Some months I wrote every day, and other months I wrote only a few times per week. But looking back on those entries, on the music I listened to in 2013, on the mementos I kept pinned to my wall and on shelves in containers, I get to see how far I've come in the last year, how I've changed, how I've grown.
This is my sentimental reflection on 2013, a goodbye echoing out as I ready myself for a new hello.

January
January began with hope, the desire to be better. It began with metaphors and stories and wishful thinking, the way January usually begins. I thought a lot about redemption, about the meaning of home, and struggled with finding peace within myself.
January was a month filled with hope and the promise of new beginnings. I was blissfully happy, learning to find myself in the world.

February
February began with thoughts of love and the transformation into a lion hearted girl. I was still wistful, happy in a way I couldn't quite understand. By the final day in February, my world began to crack. I didn't know then it was in preparation for the break that would upend my life.

March
March was grief, and brokenness. It was falling to the floor screaming and standing beside a grave with no explanation, only anguish. It was everything I didn't know how to understand, and everything I never wanted to have to learn. It was discovering the meaning of strength, daily. It was a time when my heart was broken, shattered into a million pieces I didn't know how to fix.

April
Looking back, I barely remember April. The days seem to run together, one moment fading into the next, none of them feeling real. I was still broken. I craved darkness, silence, solitude. I was restless, and angry. I tried to write through my pain, most of the words leaving my body bereft, inconsolable, and fierce. I watched too much television in an attempt to ignore the world that miraculously kept turning in despite of my brokenness.

May
May felt like another round of bad luck, like the blackness had swallowed me whole. The wound I had been trying to heal in April felt split open again, and I was bleeding all over the floor. I cried more in the first part of May then I remember doing before: in a parking lot, on the kitchen floor, in a doctor's office where suddenly the roles were reversed, and too often, in my own bed, crying myself to sleep. I held onto hope like if I curled my fingers around it tight enough, then it couldn't be broken. I went inward, taking stock of my life, bracing myself for the pieces of my world that kept falling in.

June
June was for rituals, for clinging to ceremonies. I was desperately searching for a way to be full again. I did a lot of yoga, ate well, and searched for people who were bravely walking through brokenness. Words weren't as easy to come by, and if I sat in the silence for too long I started to feel the voices in my head begin to take over. I chased sanity as if it was something I could grab, locking my fingers around it and holding it tight.

July
The discomfort I felt inside my own body grew heavier. I slept in hotel rooms and thought about death, and life, and living. My body felt broken, my mind felt broken, my heart felt broken. As many strings as I pulled, hoping to hold my life together, it kept unraveling. I felt like a stranger in my own skin. I had a restless mind and a restless heart, and I didn't know how to sit with myself and not run away from the pain, in some way or another.

August
August was for lusting after life, trying to swallow it whole. I tried stupid things and not so stupid things and did what made me happy. Maybe it was covering some deeper issue I still had, maybe it was well done denial, but I felt alive for the first time in months. I felt like the world was begging to be noticed and I vowed to take advantage of every moment.

September
September welcomed new things. It began with a desire to be brave, to experience life, and ended in quiet reflection. I was introduced to a world that challenged me, intrigued me and mystified me (and still does.) It was my first introduction to some amazing people. I wrestled with myself, asking a lot of questions, some that didn't have answers.

October
The broken heart was analyzed as more losses fell, reminding me of the grief that had draped itself over my life. It was death, and letting go. It was also welcoming new life, stretching to make room to accommodate it all. It was driving down back roads and listening to loud music and falling in and out of love daily.

November
November was for fiction, for distractions. It was poetry in dark closets and too many hours spent staring at the wall. It was the month when I turned another year older, which was both exciting and something I dreaded in the same moment. I was stuck in my head too much, as I always am. The world felt like it was moving too fast for me to keep up. I felt helpless to stop the spinning of my own mind. It was also a month of gathering stories, memorizing faces, collecting moments.

December
December was the apology I never knew how to write. It was days upon days lived in a perpetual state of fear, of panic, of grief. It was losing my mind slowly. I didn't try to understand it all. I went through the motions. I didn't write, didn't let my mind run away with the endless possibilities that were churning inside of my skull. I didn't let the brokenness of the month, and of all the months that have come before it, catch up with me.

2013 was a year of firsts, a year of being completely broken open. As a whole it was probably filled with more tears than any other year, more grief, more moments I didn't know how to comprehend. I told my secrets to the stars and wrote poetry on the side of coffee cups and crawled my way up out of the grief.
I'm coming out of 2013 not at all the same person who walked into it. I've been forever changed by the things that happened this year. I questioned my whole life, and am on a quest for answers. I cried, screamed, felt and wrote my way through this year. Because sometimes that's the only way you can do it.
I carry more anger now, am more jaded, more scarred. The world doesn't make sense to me anymore, not in the way it used to.
But, despite all the grief I carry with me from this past year, it was also full of good things. I felt the world inside of myself, and started (As I always am) making peace with it. While I lost people, I also met some amazing people, people who make me laugh and fill me with hope and encourage me to be a better person, to "write with blood" and to experience life. I had moments when I felt truly alive. I fell in love with people, with things, with the world despite it's brokenness.

"You'll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living, breathing, screaming invitation to believe in better things"

"Sometimes its the smallest things that save us: the weather growing cold, a child's smile, and a cup of excellent coffee."

'Sometimes Emotions Are Wrapped Up In Music'

This year I kept a playlist all year long, adding to it songs that meant a lot to me through out the year. Looking back, it's something I'm glad I did. There are so many emotions frozen in music and it's good for me to look back over that playlist, and to over some of the writing I did early on in the year, and reflect back on everything that happened.
Tonight is filled with nostalgia, as Christmas always is for me. I took the opportunity to go through my 2013 playlist, and I thought I'd share it. This was my year, in music.

Begin Again - Taylor Swift
The Call - Regina Spektor
Braille - Regina Spektor
Moments - One Direction
It's Time - Imagine Dragons
Would It Matter - Skillet
Goodnight Moon - Go Radio
Iris - GooGoo dolls
Fix You - Coldplay
Ghost - Ingrid Michaelson
A Bird's Song - Ingrid Michaelson
Wherever - Kim Haller
Who I Am - Jessica Andrews
Worn - Tenth Avenue North
When A Heart Breaks - Ben Rector
Wild Horses - Natasha Bedingfield
A Thousand Years - Christina Perri
We Both Know - Colbie Caillat and Gavin DeGraw
Say - John Mayer
Roots Before Branches - Room For Two
You Have More Friends Than You Know - Glee
Everybody Hurts - R.E.M
Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
Paper Doll - John Mayer
Roar - Katy Perry
Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey
Reno - Alex Woodard
Breathe (2a.m.) - Anna Nalick
Comeback Kid (That's my dog) - Brett Dennen
Cold Coffee - Ed Sheeran
Here's To The Good Times - Florida Georgia Line
The Struggle - Grizfolk
Wanted - Hunter Hayes
Wildfire - John Mayer
I Still Miss You - Keith Anderson
Blown Away - Carrie Underwood
Taking Chances - Celine Dion
Stupid Boy - Keith Urban
Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson
Payphone - Maroon 5
More Like Her - Miranda Lambert
Far Away - Nickelback
She's 22 - Norah Jones
Story Of My Life - One Direction
Sober - Pink
Playing God - Paramore
Manhattan - Sara Bareilles
Gone To Soon - Simple Plan
Untitled - Simple Plan
Jetlag - Simple Plan
Lucy - Skillet
Purple Sun - Samuel Larsen
State of Grace - Taylor Swift
22 - Taylor Swift
Fast Car - Tracy Chapman
Colder Weather - Zac Brown Band
Love The Way You Lie - Rihanna
Jar Of Hearts - Christina Perri
Elastic Heart - Sia
We Remain - Christina Aguilera
Come Home - One Republic
Saving Amy - Brantley Gilbert
Underneath The Stars - Kate Rusby

Maybe you would learn more about me by getting a list of the books I've read in 2013, or a list of things and people I've written about. But I think there's something to be said for the music that I've related to most over this year. Music that's happy, and heartbreaking. Music that's full of emotion and music that is fun.
Goodnight Moon reminds me of my friend, who stayed up with me into the wee hours of the morning, and then sent me this song. Jessica Andrews reminds me of my childhood, and the people I spent it with, and the time we requested that song on the radio and then sat around the tape player waiting for it to come on so we could record it. Natasha Bedingfield is for those nights when I just wanted to cry, and John Mayer is passing my driving test and lazy Sunday afternoons. Brett Dennen and Grizfolk are the concert that I'll never forget, and Carrie Underwood and Celine Dion are for the concert tickets I got for my sixteenth birthday. Pink was how I felt in July, and Rihanna was how I felt in February. There are songs about heartbreak, about losing people I thought I'd love forever, and for the people who could have loved me better, and the people I could have loved better. There's playlists for loss, and death, because saying goodbye is never as easy as it sounds. There's songs about dreaming and songs about surviving and songs about the state of my heart on any given Tuesday.
I think a lot of emotions can get wrapped up in music. And for me, that happened a lot this year.

In Five Years Time

It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart
I know what day it is...
Because at night I forget to sleep.
Every year, like clockwork, more than any other night of the year, on November twenty fourth I lie awake, tossing and turning.
Inside the cells of my body, somewhere, I imagine is the memory of it all. Folded up nice and neat like origami and pressed into the corner. And every year on this day, more than any other day, it is unraveled like strands of DNA that are pulled apart in order to separate.
It was five years ago today...
Even though the immediate danger is gone, the sting still lingers. Absentmindedly I reach for the scar on my neck, the one I relate with confusion.
Because five years later and I still don't understand.
I don't understand how things were fine, until they weren't.
I don't understand everything I went through in those days when I was fighting for my life.
And I don't understand why I'm still here.
...
My dreams are haunted now by the things I've seen, the things I've experienced. I remember very few days when I've awoken feeling like I actually slept, when I haven't been restless or awoken in the night paralyzed with the fear of something I can't remember, or something I can.
I guess that's true of every battle, that when you come out of it it's not without a price.
...
It's a one of a kind feeling to have someone you've never met stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people and say "This song is for a special girl," and then sing a song for you while all those hundreds of people cheer and scream your name.
It feels something like being a rock star.
Thanks to two very amazing bands, I got to know what that felt like.
It's an amazing feeling, one I'm sure I won't soon forget. One that wrapped around me like a blanket and whispered in my ear, "It's ok, now. You're ok. You're here, and this, all that you don't understand, it matters."
It's someone you've never met telling you "I'm in your corner. We're supporting you, every step of the way."
It's stitching the cuts in your soul with guitar strings and piano keys.
...
I don't think you can walk away from something like this unscathed. It changes you. Everything I've been through has changed me. The pain, the death, the unknown, the fear, the people you feel like you should have been able to save, the survivor's guilt, the smells and the sounds. It's changed me. all of it. It's made me stronger, yes, and more compassionate, but its also made it harder to sleep. It's made me freeze in hallways and duck into bathroom stalls to gain composure again because there was this one sound...
It changes the way you see the world, the way you see yourself and your life. It changes everything.
...
I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious. But there are much worse games to play.

The Miracles...

Last week's ministry team was one of those great ones. Not just because I was lovingly convincted on something I needed to be convicted on, but because of something my youth pastor said.
We were talking about the obedience in Jesus's life. We're memorizing the passage Phillipians 2:1-18. We just finished up verse 8, and were discussing this portion. This is the section where it talks about your attitude being the same as Jesus, who was human and became obedient. This is where my youth pastor asked a question. He asked us what is the bigger miracle, in our own opinion, Jesus's birth, or His death? The question struck me then, but now, as Christmas posts are starting to appear on the In Real Life (Nancy Rue's) blog I've been pondering that question a little bit more.
What is the bigger miracle here? Is it that Jesus, who was holy and perfect and the very Son of God came down to earth, a place so filled with sin, as a baby? Or is it that Jesus, this very same perfect Son of God, died a sinner's death on a cross?
I don't know if I can pick which one was more miraculous, more incredible. The fact that Jesus would leave His throne in heaven and come down as a baby, at the most dependent stage of human life, to a world where everything was so sinful when he was so perfect, that is incredible. And the fact that He came to this world, and then died a sinner's death on a cross when he was perfect because He loved ME, that is equally incredible.
I think both are miraculous, incredible things. I can't pick the bigger miracle here, when both are so wonderful.
I can't comprehend why the Son of God would want to come down to this world where everything is so sinful, and then still die the worst kind of death FOR ME! I don't understand, but I am so grateful that He did.
Christmas is a time where we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Remember the miracle it was that He came, the incredible thing it was that he came to this sinful world as the most dependent kind of creature, and then died a sinners death. Remember those miracles, because I think that, too, is what Christmas is all about, the miracles.

At Half Mast...

For me, there is few things harder then seeing my friends hurting and being able to do nothing.

On Saturday morning, 4 guys from the high school in GP were killed in a car crash.

2 of the guys in my close friend group, as well as a couple of other people I know, knew the guys that were killed that day.

Like I said, there are few things harder for me then seeing my friends hurting and being able to do nothing.

It's hard to know they are hurting, and to see the pain in their eyes, and not be able to do anything to stop it.

It makes me think, about how nobody ever knows where they might end up, or when their life will end. I'm sure when those guys woke up they weren't thinking they were going to die. But it happened.

For some reason this hits close to home. Maybe because the guys were only 15 and 16, barely older then me. Maybe because I've seen the hurt in the eyes of the ones left behind. I didn't know them, but I know people who did. I've heard stories of how great these guys were. They were real, and they laughed and they loved.

I hate being helpless to stop the hurt that the ones I love are feeling. I hate not knowing what to say, or what to do, or how to be there, or even if I should be.

It's almost as if our entire town is grieving. On the way home from pottery today, I noticed the flags were at half mast.

So my heart hurts. My heart hurts because these teenagers died so young. My heart hurts because I've looked into the eyes of the ones who knew them, the ones left behind. My heart hurts because 2 of those people were a few of the people that I love the most, and I hate to see them hurting.

I hate seeing my friends hurting and not being able to do something to fix it.

I remember

10 years ago today, I started kindergarten. I remember watching the twin towers fall on TV, mad because they had canceled my kids shows to show the news report.

Today, I am surrounded with images and video clips of that dreadful day. And through out it all, I can't help but remember this was the day I started kindergarten. Admist all the tragedy, with my backpack slung over my shoulders, I headed off to school.

I remember you- oh you who lost your life protecting North America

I remember you- oh parents who laid their child to rest

I remember you - oh people who boarded the plan and never came off

I remember you - heroes, who selflessly offered up your lives

I remember you - workers of Ground Zero

I remember you - The people who survived, but are forever scarred by the horrors they witnessed

I remember you - oh sweet little girl who started Kindergarten that day. You were not forgotten admist the horrors that came with this day. The importance of that day for you was not lost on me, sweet child. It is important to me, because you are important to me.

On this day, We remember

on September 11...

On September 11, 2001, I started my first day of Kindergarten
On September 11, 2001, I was mad because they interupted my kid shows to show a news report
On September 11, 2001, I put on my backpack and stood at the front door, waiting to go to school
On September 11, 2001, Airplaines hit the twin towers
On September 11, 2001, thousands, if not millions, of people died
On September 11, 2oo1, they stopped my kid shows to do coverage from the twin towers
On September 11, 2001, Families lost their sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, wives and husbands.
On September 11, 2001, Ground Zero was born.
On September 11, 2oo1, countries rallied together
On September 11, 2oo1, people frantically called their loved ones, hoping they would be alive
On September 11, 2001, some of them were not
On September 11, 2001, heroic men and women re-enlisted in the army, picked up their bags and flew to New York to help with the clean up, and lived amoung death
On September 11, 2001, it started out just like any other day, until the buildings started burning
On September 11, 2001, it is the day we all remember as 9/11
On September 11, We Remember