I Should Have Gone Swimming With Her

For the majority of my life, I've felt like a prisoner in my own body. 

Sure, I've taken amazing strides in getting past the bulimia, and learning to eat pizza again. 

I can be at home, by myself, with a plate full of cookies in the kitchen, and not  be tempted to eat the entire plate. 

I can hold a job, and even get through a break up, without a carton full of ice cream. 

Yet despite how far I've come, I still have a long way to go. 

Over Christmas break, my family decided to go to a inside water park in Northern Michigan. 

Now I've lived long enough to know that water parks mean bathing suits, and bathing suits mean a lot of skin, and a little clothing. 

One of the hardest things for me to do is wear a bathing suit, no matter if it's in front of family, or strangers. 

And if at this point you would tell me that they aren't looking at me, I would agree with you. But just being in a position where someone could see my pale body makes me shiver.

Truthfully, I didn't feel the best that day, so I decided to opt out of the water park, and watch from the sidelines. 

I was fine with my decision until my 5 year old niece asked me if I was going to get in the water. 

"No, Brooklyn, I don't feel well. Next time."

Inside, my heart was breaking because one of the things I've always strived to be was a good aunt. 

And that day, I had failed. 

To many, it's just a bathing suit. 

To me, it's jumping off a cliff, swimming with sharks, cracking on a note, walking into a crowded room completely naked, sky diving without a parachute, kind of feeling. 

I watched as my nieces went down the giant water slide, and lounged around the lazy river 

I watched my nieces smiling, and laughing. 

I watched everything from a distance. 

I thought to myself, "Amy, what happened to you?"

Before any sort of body image concerns concerned me, I was a bubbly, excited, all in kind of girl. 

I would have been the first on the slide, and the last one out. 

Leaving the water park that day reminded me that body image still has its strong hands around me.
While I am free in so many ways, I am still not totally free.

I missed the chance to be an aunt to my two little nieces. I missed the chance to create memories with my family... all because I was too afraid to wear a bikini in the winter. 

I started thinking back to everything I've missed because of body image issues…

Not wanting to go to the lake one summer because my body wasn't, "bikini ready."

Not going to the pool with my friends because I felt fat. 

Not singing on stage because I didn't like how I looked.

Sabotaging a relationship with a great guy because he gets a little too close, and I feel a little too exposed.   

And probably many more. 

I can't turn back time, and change my decision that day. 

And even I could, it still would be a struggle to get in the water. 

But, I would. 

In fact, Brooklyn wouldn't even have to ask me if I was going swimming, because I would already be in. 

Sometimes, we are too late to change anything once we receive a wake up call. 

We don't have another chance to change things.

But sometimes we do. 

Maybe you have body image issues like me, or maybe you have another insecurity that keeps you prisoner.

Maybe you have past regrets like I do. 

Maybe you have days, and times when insecurity won. 

And maybe this is your wake-up call. 

At 32 going on 33, I am working harder than ever to find the little girl in me. 

The one who loved to laugh uncontrollably. 

The one who loved to dream, and act out, "The Wizard of Oz."

The one who loved to swim, and didn't think twice about a bathing suit. 

The one who loved spaghetti, and bread. 

The one who could have fun. 

The one who loved life.  

Because that is who the world needs me to be. 

That is who my nieces need me to be. 

 

Filter-Free: A Look Behind My Facebook Feed

If you based my life off of my Facebook page, it would appear that I am making strides in songwriting with all my, "almost" chances.

It would look like I am on my way. 

It would seem as if I had it all figured out. 

However, as we all know, social media filters not only our looks, but also our, "behind the scenes. "

What Facebook doesn't show are the tears I cried last Tuesday night. 

What Facebook doesn't show is how lost I can feel in this city of dreams.  

If I can be honest, I haven't really had the urge to write in a couple weeks…not a blog…not a song. 

There is a part of me that wants to throw in the towel, give up, go back to school, and find a job that makes more sense. 

And here is where I would usually write some encouraging and inspiring quote, but not this time. 

This time, I'm not going to patch a discouragement wound with a self-help-self-motivating band-aid quote, or scripture. 

This time, I am going to dig deeper into what it looks like when dreams don't come true, when desires aren't met, when life doesn't look anything like we hoped it would. 

Because….sometimes, that is our life.

Sometimes, the breaks don't come. 

Sometimes, the deal doesn't go through. 

Sometimes, we don't get the guy. 

Sometimes, we don't get the girl. 

Sometimes, we don't have the white picket fence.  

Sometimes, we don't get the corner office. 

And if we allow it, these disappointments can become our ruin. 

But, they don't have to be. 

I saw in the past few weeks how my dream had become my idol. 

I saw how making it as a songwriter had become my only hope. 

I realized how this desire has kept me on a hamster wheel, running but going nowhere...

Trying to figure out who to write with.

Trying to come up with the best hooks.
Trying to figure out a way to make it happen on my own. 

I saw how music and, "making it,"  had become bigger than my God. 

And this was my recipe for discouragement...and intense writers block. 

Instead of holding on so tightly, I realized I needed to let go, and surrender my dream back on the altar, and back at Jesus's feet. 

Some would call this giving up. 

I call this pressing forward. 

I give my dream over to Him, because He was the one who gave it to me in the first place. 

We are called to dream BIG, to pursue our desires, to find our calling. 

But God loves you and I way too much to hand those desires over to us if they will ultimately cause us to lose sight of Him.

Stop the striving. 

Stop the obsessing. 

Breathe. 

Relax. 

Trust. 

"You may not end up where you thought you were going, but you will always end up where you were meant to be..."

-Unknown

First Dates and Burning Bridges

I have this problem when I drive.

I constantly look behind. 

Sometimes, I can get so caught up in checking the rear view mirror, making sure no one is riding too close to my tail, that I miss my exit. 

If someone puts on their brakes in front of me, regardless the distance between us, I look behind to make sure no one will hit me. 

Instead of 32 going on 33, I am 32 going on 82 behind the wheel. 

And last night, after a first date, I realized I have this problem when it comes to relationships as well. 

This is how the story seems to go with me….

Meet a nice guy. 

Go on a date with a kind guy. 

Start looking back at old relationships. 

Lose the good guy, and any potential of a new relationship.

In my mind, I know that there is a reason the past is the past. 

It's just that my heart hasn't quite caught up with my mind yet. 

A little voice in my head, longs to go back. 

Go back to the one's that didn't work.  

Go back to the one's who didn't really want me, for me.  

Go back to the one's who walked away. 

This little voice comes out whenever there is a threat of moving on, of finding someone who truly cares, of letting someone in. 

Just like the Israelites went around that mountain again, and again, and again, and again...

I go around this dating cycle, again, and again, and again, and again. 

And until I burn the bridge, the bridge that keeps me looking back at what once was, the bridge that keeps me replaying the, "what if's?" and "why's?"...

The bridge that keeps me running from letting anyone truly in, and giving a man a chance to love me, despite my deepest and darkest flaws...

Until I burn that bridge, I am not ready.

Not ready to let someone in. 

Not ready to truly let love in. 

Now,  just like rear view mirrors are a vitally important part for safe driving, you have to look back to move forward.  

Your past can teach you. 

Your past can show you what needs to change. 

Your past can give you the fuel to live a different life. 

But, if you get consumed with your past, eventually, you will hit a brick wall of salt (Exodus 19:26.)

Good guys and girls don't finish last. 

Good guys and girls stuck in their past do. 

Whatever you are hanging onto, a past relationship, a past friendship, a past mistake, a past heartache…

Let. It. Go. 

Because beyond that bridge, is a life full of abundance and blessings.

Full of hope and redemption, resurrection and restoration. 

Growth is painful.

Change is painful. 

But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. 

-Mandy Hale

Hit and Run

On Monday evening, I was involved in a hit and run. 

In a matter of seconds, I went from staring down the road to staring at a concrete building that we had ran into. 

Had it not been for guardian angels, a seatbelt, and a huge Ford truck, things would have been vastly different. 

I was lucky. 

So, very lucky. 

The next day, I saw a doctor, just to make sure that everything was ok.

Before she even took me back, she made me get on a scale. 

Usually, I request to turn around so I don't have to see the number. 

For some reason, I always revert back to lower school, when we had to get weighed in front of everyone at gym class. 

As a young child, this was always my worst fear. 

Before I even had a chance to turn around, she said, "115."

And just to make sure I heard, she said it again, "115."

Got it. 

And then something happened, something unexpected. 

You see, even a year ago, that number would have freaked me out. It's not a lot by any means, it's just a jump from where I have been used to being. 

After I heard the number…(insert drumroll)….I brushed it off. 

WHAT?!?!?!

Yep.

I didn't obsess. 

I didn't think negative thoughts. 

I didn't plan a diet. 

I honestly didn't think anything about it. 

Walking away from what could have been a terrible accident will do that. 

Weight doesn't seem to matter as much when you are thankful to be alive. 

I called my mom after the doctor and said, "They told me my weight, and I didn't care."

This. 

This is HUGE. 

It's so easy to brush off small victories, but you mustn't.

Whatever it is, celebrate it. 

Whether it's that you drove past McDonald's and didn't buy a coke, or went for a walk instead of watching tv, or didn't buy those $250 shoes, or went swimming even though you hate wearing a bathing suit, or you put down the bottle, or you finally forgave yourself for something you did. 

I have always been a black and white person. 

Living in the grey has always been a challenge. 

But life happens in the grey/gray. 

I'm not perfect, actually far from it, and that's ok. 

I'm not where I want to be, and that's ok. 

I get it right, but more often than not, I get it wrong, and that's ok. 

If you never celebrate the little things, you are never going to be able to celebrate the big things. 

And the other day, I was able to celebrate being ok with my weight, and being freaking alive. 

That was a good day. 

When Goodbye Came Too Soon

I walked into the bathroom, stood there for a second, and walked out. 

A few minutes later, I walked into the bathroom a second time, stood there, and walked out. 

I needed a release. 

I needed an escape. 

Earlier in the day, I had found out about a dear friend's sudden passing. 

And I started to do what I used to do when I couldn't handle something. 

I tried writing a song, but nothing came. 

I tried calling my mom, but she didn't know what to say. 

I tried talking to God, but I couldn't make out the words. 

So I did what I could do, I ate. 

I met Ryin in 2008, at the Mercy Ministries home. 

She wasn't the biggest fan of me in the beginning. 

She was sarcastic, dry, more of a introvert, and I was an annoying blonde, bubbly, wide-eyed, big-haired extrovert. 

But I was dedicated to winning her friendship, and eventually, I did. 

If you could have a best friend at the Mercy house, she was mine. 

Every morning we would pretend we were anywhere but where we where, which was, Fenton, Missouri. 

We would pretend that we were having our coffee in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower, and then in California, over looking the ocean.

My favorite moments with Ryin were on our weekly Saturday morning walks.

For 45 minutes, we would talk about faith and struggles, doubts and fears. 

Ryin was like a rock, firmly planted in her beliefs, where as I, on the other hand,  was more like a leaf that gets tossed here, and tossed there. 

On one of our walks, we talked non-stop about the things we were thankful for. From salvation, to summer, to Starbucks, to sprinkles. 

When I wanted to leave the program, she told me to stay. 

When she wanted to leave the program, I told her to stay. 

After our graduation in the Spring of 2008, I lost touch with Ryin.

She moved back to Minnesota, I stayed in Missouri. 

Life happened for both of us, and distance made it harder to stay close. 

It doesn't matter to me how she passed, what matters is how her memory lives on. 

And when I walked into the bathroom for the second time, planning to do what I have done so many times before, I saw her face, and knew I couldn't go through with it. 

I owe it to Ryin to fight. 

To fight for my life.  

To fight for my dreams. 

To fight for my faith. 

Ryin left a mark on my heart, and a picture in my Bible.

The picture is of coffee, with a massive amount of whip cream (because she knew I was obsessed), and the following scripture:

"Thus says the Lord, He who created you…He who formed you..Fear not, for I have redeemed you..I have called you by your name; you are Mine. Because you are precious in My sight and honored…Even everyone who is called by My Name, whom I have formed, whom I have made" Isaiah 43: 1,4,7.

You and I both owe it to Ryin, and to many others, to fight. 

To fight for life. 

To fight for faith. 

To fight for dreams. 

To fight for futures. 

From Sunset to Sunset

As I pulled into my driveway Monday evening, I heard a old, familiar voice start to rattle. 

After I turned the gas off and the radio down, I knew I was in for a battle. 

To give in?

To not give in?

Temptation tore at my innermost being, for what seemed to be forever.

And for five minutes, I refused to get out of my car. 

I placed my hands on the steering wheel, gritted my teeth, and closed my eyes.

"No, God please, No."

If you've ever dealt with any sort of addiction, you know the force that can suddenly, without warning, show up, and pull you in.  

Somedays, the force is nonexistent, and the voice is quiet. 

Other days, it seems to pound over me like a never ending hail storm. 

Lately, I've been asking myself if I am missing something...

Like, maybe it's that my faith isn't strong enough? or maybe it's that Jesus is just a little slow with me? 

Sitting in the driveway, I wanted to give in. 

So, so bad.
But I didn't. 

Rather than thanking God for getting me through the moment, I became more and more disappointed with myself.
Disappointed that I still struggle and disappointed that my faith isn't stronger.

While I was sitting in my living room later in the evening,  I looked out the window, just in time to catch the sunset. 

Instantly, I was reminded of a summer night last year. 

I remember walking to the harbor with my family, when I caught one of the most gorgeous sunsets I had seen in awhile.  I just stood there,  looking off into the lake, and feeling more at peace then I had in a long time. 

Despite all the questions I had in my mind, all the heartache I still bore, all the dreams still unfulfilled, I couldn't help but be in absolute awe of God's faithfulness.

For a sunset, I was completely at peace with the unseen. 

It was as if God was reminding me, from one sunset to the next, how He is still on my side.

Despite the mistakes I've made.  

The people I've hurt. 

The times I gave into fear. 

The times I trusted in myself, more than Him.

It was as if He was telling me, "Stop. Just stop."

That evening,  I decided to give myself a break. 

I stopped toiling and stewing over why I still struggle with temptation. 

I forgave myself for the wrongs I've done. 

I threw off the burdens I was carrying.  

For the rest of last night, I didn't try to fix myself, or my faith. 

I only rested. 

Maybe, like me,  you still struggle?

Maybe, like me, you feel like your faith is lacking? 

Maybe, like me, you don't know how to just stop, and rest? 

And maybe, just maybe, it's also time for you to  forgive yourself, take the load off your shoulders, of perfectionism, of control, of inadequacy, and of self-sufficiency.

Maybe, it's time for you to stop, rest, and just let yourself  be a child of the Almighty. 

Completely loved. 
Totally forgiven. 
Fully accepted. 

Don't Just Call Me Beautiful

The other night, I found myself in downtown Nashville, on Broadway.

As I sat on the window sill at one of the bars, I started people watching. 

I watched bachelor parties play pool, bachelorette parties dance, guys hit on girls, and girls flirt with guys. 

I watched people who had a little bit too much to drink, to those who ordered water. 

I also observed my stunningly gorgeous friend get hit on by almost every guy in the bar. 

It didn't take long until I was wishing I was anyone else but me, and anywhere else but there. 

I felt invisible. 

I felt undesirable. 

The conversation running through my head was as followed, "You've gained weight, so, you aren't beautiful anymore……Your outfit makes you look fat…You are ugly."

That night, it was as if I had retreated back to old, but familiar years. 

However, instead of ordering 3 pizzas and 4 hamburgers, I ordered nothing. 

Instead, I wrote in my iphone notes, "God, I just feel so ugly, so, so ugly."

As I held the phone in my hands, I heard myself say,"Don't call me beautiful."

It wasn't with a degrading, insulting, or self-defeating voice. 

Rather, it was a voice of confidence, grace and assurance. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me talented. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me honest. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me real. 

You see, on Saturday night, I realized that the thing I have desired and strived for most in my life, is the very thing that has taken away everything that makes me, me.

While I have been obsessed with my wrinkles,  recovery, and being a, "good" Christian, I have hidden the parts of me that don't always fit into a nice, put together, Sunday-morning box. 

I love Jesus, but I don't always love myself. 

And somedays are worse than others. 

Just before I wrote this, my sister-in-law called me, and told me how my niece had won a Library contest for her drawing on a book mark. It was her talent, her gifting, that was noticed, not her beauty. 

Like everyone else, I have told both my nieces they are beautiful, over, and over, and over, in hopes that they never go down the road I went down. 

However, the only way they will not be tempted to question their worth and appearance, is if they can appreciate their unique skills, personality, and gifts. 

Hear me out when I say that calling someone beautiful is not bad.

That was not the intention of writing this. 

There is just so much more to a person than their looks. 

If all you call someone is beautiful, they will enter into a race that they will never be able to win. 

Don't call me beautiful. 

Call me lovely. 

Call me sensitive. 

Call me deep. 

Call me different. 

Call me relentless. 

But please, don't just call me beautiful.