The challenge was to first spend time with Jesus for 30 minutes everyday for 30 days and the second was to write 30 minutes everyday for 30 days. Needless to say I failed on both accounts. I sit here in front of my computer writing for the first times in a while. To give the excuse that I am too busy would be a lie. I have the time to watch a few TV shows a day, I have time to play on our Wii...Super Mario Brothers is addicting. But at the end of the day the things that I know will enhance my life, will make me a better person lay on touched. Most days I havn't spent time with Jesus and almost everyday I haven't written more than two words, let alone created a sentence. My natural tendency would be to see myself as a failure and come to the conclusion that I will never accomplish what I set out to do. But the truth is this, I am not a failure. I could spend the next hour or so spouting of scripture and telling all the "churchy" answers about how God has redeemed me and all of that. As true as all of that is, I don't want to just be cliche. I don't want to be the writer or person for that matter that only speaks the things that are the typical sayings. And more than that, those typical words no matter how true they are, are the easy ones to say. I desire to be vulnerable, to put my story out there for others to read. See the truth is, is I have been trying over the past few months, to write about anything but what I know I am suppose to write about, what I haven felt called to stare for a couple of years now.
One of fears is actually having to remember those times, remember the pain, remember the mistakes in order to write about them. I mean who wants to relive the hardest parts of her life? It was bad enough the first time around. Another fear is, well I am afraid that this picture that people have painted of who Amy will turn out to be a false one and then I am left with feeling like I have falsely represented myself to those around me. I also worry that people will read it and think, "Why in the world did she just share that big old mess? Now everyone just knows her business and nothing good came of it...I just feel uncomfortable." The truth of the matter is honestly my story will make others uncomfortable, it may even offend some people. But if I make you uncomfortable you have to ask yourself, "Why does this vulnerability make me feel this way?" So here goes, here is the first part of my story...and to be honest no I did not write this tonight, I wrote these words about two years ago...its just taken me this long to have the courage to share them. Please let me know what you think. You are my audience, I want your feed back.
I have started this paragraph about a hundred times trying to figure out the best way to start this story. First off, I can’t truly call this a story, even though it is a telling of specific events—these words, these sentences are more about a journey than a story. A journey that I lived out everyday. I felt every pain, enjoyed every laugh, and partook in every tear. Even now as I reread what I just wrote I wonder if I should trash these sentences and find a better way to start—a more professional way, a more literary way but then if I did than I would start this journey off not being true to who I am. Putting oneself out there for the whole world to see is a tough thing to do—especially if you are going to write about it. Look at it this way, if you write a book about your own story and people hate it, you are either a terrible writer or just not that interesting. Either way I look at it it’s hard to swallow. But I figure I have two choices in this life—I can be real with the world, put all I have out there or be stuck wondering if I ever could.
I met Shawn the night of my friend Alex’s birthday. I remember calling her up that night to tell her to stop working on her paper, go out, and have fun. Little did I know, she already was out having fun and she actually pulled me away from my mundane night to enjoy some fried pickles and karaoke. Shawn showed up with Jesse, who sadly enough did not make the cut for the telling of this journey—a fact that will make several of my girlfriends happy when they partake in this reading. Don’t worry this is not another story about how two people locked eyes across a dimly lit room and found themselves talking into the wee hours of the morning and declaring their love for one another as the sun rose. No, this simply begins with two strangers who start up an awkward conversation at the end of a long table, in a smoke filled room while their friends sing very badly and old people cheer them on. And the night ends with a standing ovation after a beautiful and touching rendition of “Summer Lovin’” by the whole group. Had the journey of Shawn and I ended that night I would not remember the look on his face when he sang, or the way he walked across the room towards our table, or even me leaning over to Alex asking her who the guy was with Jesse. Of course, it wasn’t until months later that our paths actually crossed again but that first encounter with Shawn is still some how ever present in my memory.
There are moments in life that for some reason stick with you for a lifetime. These are the moments that you can remember specific words that were said, exact details of the setting, the scent still lingers in your nose, and most of all the emotion still stirs in you. If it is a heart wrenching sad moment, you can still feel your eyes welling up with tears and the churning of your stomach. You can remember the moments right before your heart was ripped out of your chest and the naïve way of thinking that everything was going to be just fine. In those joyful moments you can still feel the laughter flowing through your veins, the look in someone’s eye as he glances at you. The butterflies still flutter through your stomach as you recall the exact moment his hand brushed against yours. Its funny how not every moment in life is remembered so clearly. Life is filled with sadness and joy but why is it that some are imprinted so deeply they become a part of your soul and others simply fade with time?
I encountered Shawn for the second time at an all day concert event. I cannot recall the various hours in between meeting him once again and the moment my phone rang and it was him but I do recall the moments after the phone call. We were simply feet away when he called and to this day I still do not know how he had gotten my number. Thus starts the journey. Never would I have imagined that night as I am sitting listening to the bands, talking to Kay and flirting with Shawn that in the next few months my life would change drastically. In the matter of months, certain events would occur that would alter the way I viewed myself, would send me in a downward spiral but on that night all I could think about was sitting beside Shawn on the grass. All I could think about was the cute text messages he kept sending me. All I could think about was the smile on my face that this boy had placed there. Who would have guessed that maybe this time I should have just walked away?
It has taken me a long time to come to the point in my life where I can look in the mirror and not be repulsed by the reflection staring back at me. For most of my life I either saw a chubby, plain girl, who would always be stuck in the best friend status or I saw the girl who just sold herself to feel loved. It is hard to admit the mistakes I have made—I never want anyone to look at me and see the sin I have committed, see the stains that were once there. And if I was completely honest I have a hard to time putting myself out there because for so long I simply imitated the person those around me expected me to be. Sadly though all people truly want is to encounter real, honest human beings. If we were all honest with one another, wouldn’t we find that the girl sitting next to us in class also struggles with loving herself or the guy passing us on the street has the same thoughts of suicide as we have? I have held these secrets in for so long because I was ashamed of what I had done—ashamed of who I had become but it is time for them to burst forth in truth. Some may say I am crazy for laying it all out there but the one I am concerned about is the one that I may help. So you can think I am crazy, you can dismiss these words as meaningless and never think of me again…and that’s okay by me, you were not the one I sat pouring out my heart for.
