The kind of love like that of moonlight and stars.

Illuminating my very core. Inspiring me to run free.

But still cradling me for everything I am and everything I will be.

For it knows that the night in me still carries a luminosity that will never disintegrate.

I am no longer playing hide-and-go-seek.

Worrying about every aspect of my depression and anxiety.

I am ready to show you all of my pieces.

I desire to go further.

To break through every restraint and all limitations.

I yearn to explore every facet of the earth we walk on.

To have space and to breathe.

But, to somehow always find my way back into your very being.

Monday mornings with tangled sheets and sun peeking through the blinds.

Friday night discussions about all of our insecurities and fears and stopping in the middle to kiss your face, just because.

I want your broken parts, your humble parts and everything in between.

I hope you want that, too.

I want to be a team with you. Growing each other into the best versions of ourselves.

I have been scorched before you. But that fire, that hell-blazing fire, taught me how to love.

and I will love you, because that is how I love me, too.

The voices in your head and out

surrounding

suffocating until you start to shut down

They tell you what to do, how to feel, who to fear

shouting bad advice masked as good intentions

“Trying to protect you” They jeer

from yourself, from the world

Trap you inside your own mind

Like your own personal prison cell from hell

Every move deepening the paranoia

because every next step could mean literal catatonia

or at least abandonment, which may actually be worse than the former

“You’re becoming too much” They say

“Too anxious, too depressed

too messy, too distressed”

“Build the walls and lock them out

You’ve got us, when in doubt”

The voices become louder

until they’re all you can hear

leading you to the place where you find

You’re nothing but a shell

of your former self.

the extroverted complexities

the wild and untamed gypsy.

This is for the shattered esteem

the introverted tendencies

the broken complacency.

Truthfully, you’re a paradox of extremities

like a hurricane out at sea

or a forest fire burning violently.

But, sometimes a gentle breeze

or quiet rain in a grove of trees.

You sway back and forth

teetering between two extremes

Chaotic and bold

but, also

Quiet and reserved

You cannot be controlled.

Raw beauty in its truest form.

I don’t think I could have predicted 6 years ago that we would be here, in this place.

That I would have someone to wake up next to every single day or someone to brush my teeth with.

Drive in the car and crazy dance and scream to songs with.

It’s crazy to think that so much can change in 6 years. That someone can go from a stranger to a person’s other half. I’m writing this to get some of my thoughts out on the table. To make sure you know that I will always choose you.

You’re the person I want to see get dressed in the morning as you get ready for work. Scrambling around in the dark, trying not to wake me, probably complaining in your mind that I still haven’t put away the laundry.

I want to look at you those mornings when I walk out of our room — a t-shirt lazily hanging from my shoulder, and notice the wrinkles forming beside your eyes. The age marks on your arms. Your hair turning grey and still want all of you. I’ll run my hand over your shirt and you’ll say you have to go to work and you’ll walk out the door with a smirk and an “I’ll see you later”.

I’m writing this because you’re the one I’m going to have kids with and I can’t wait for those days. For the days that are wrapped around going to their school events. When they play an insignificant role in a school play and we still get so excited and want to record the whole thing. When they learn to play an instrument and they play really badly, and we casually make fun of them a little bit, but obviously when they’re not around. When we go to the sporting events and are the loudest and most embarrassing parents there, but we won’t care.

I’m writing this because I want to travel with you. All over the world. I want to explore as many countries as we can. We’ll drag our kids with us because we want them to be cultured and to understand the world outside of the United States consumeristic box. I’ll take a camera and it’ll always be around my neck and you’ll probably make fun of me and say something like “memories are more important than always taking pictures”. And that’s true, but one day we may not remember and we’ll at least have those photographs to remind us of all the years we spent together. Of all of the years that we may not have had all the money we wanted to have, but we saw all of the things worth seeing.

And we’ll go to all of the theme parks and we’ll probably complain about how hot it is and how expensive it might be, but we’ll go on every single ride our kids want and we’ll let them pull us around from sun up to sun down because we would do anything to see their faces light up with joy. And while I’m worrying about them falling out of a ride or being kidnapped in a huge crowd, you’ll be the fun dad letting them pig out on any sugary treat they want and putting them on your shoulders when they get tired of walking and I may be jealous that you’re the “fun” one but I’ll always know that I picked the very best man to be the father of my children.

I want this kind of life with you and I will choose it every day. I want to visit our families together. Trying to get everyone together every year, but always failing. Laughing at your parents table playing board games and eating candy. You and my dad goofing off. Watching my own siblings grow up every year and eventually adding our own annoying kids to the group running around the living room.

I want to grow old with you, go to doctors appointments and check-ups with you. Make fun of each other because we really can’t see anything anymore, and our bones and joints pop and crack with every move we make. I want to complain about how I hate getting old. How death feels like it’s right around the corner and have you smile and say “get used to. We ARE old.”

I want to fight with you — and I know we will. We’ll fight over everything sometimes. And some years we’ll fight more than others, and we’ll hold each other less but I’ll know and I’ll remember that no matter how mad we might make each other, how much we have an urge to walk, that you’re still worth holding onto, year after year, and that I waited so long to have a life that fit with someone elses.

I want to fight with you over the things that matter, and the things that don’t. Argue with you in a car about which direction to take, about how much money we’re spending, argue over how annoying it is that I don’t do the laundry enough, argue about our jobs, and where we’re going to live. And argue about how to raise a kid in this world.

I want you to be the one that stands at my head when I’m having a child. You be the one that gets more worked up and I have to tell you in between pushing to shut up and hold my hand. Watch your big eyes stare at this thing we’ve created, and be scared to death when it comes time to put him or her in a car seat.

I’ll want to take a break from life with you sometimes — when things feel overwhelming and the kids are throwing toys at each other, and there’s marker on the wall and the fridge smells like something died and there’s a mess in every room.

Get in the car and drive to Mcdonalds or Taco Bell and talk about how we each could’ve ended up somewhere else, but here we are. Talk about all of the dreams that we still have and think about what life could have been and what worked and what didn’t. Leave happy, knowing that we still have this small life with each other.

I want to go through all the good years with you, and the bad ones too. The years we get job promotions, the years family members die, the years we don’t have enough money, and the years our children take over and become the only thing we focus on.

And when it’s over, when this small little life is over, I want it to be you that is there in the end.

I want it to be you that I have to say goodbye to as one of us passes on to meet Jesus.

I know that you might think that nobody cares about you. I know that you might think that you play an insignificant role in this colossal world, and that it wouldn’t make a difference if you left it. I know that you might think that people’s lives would be easier, or that suffering involving you in any sort of way would come to an end if you weren’t here. Hear me out, because I’m here to tell you that this is far from the truth.

Life can be harsh and grueling. This is not the first time that you are going to hear this, and it won’t be the last. But, don’t lose hope. I was trapped for years in a part of my life that I honestly believed I was never going to escape from. I had let myself fall deep into a hole that consisted of not voicing my true feelings and letting myself become a welcome mat. I was at a dark part in my life — a part in my life where I thought that it was normal to feel unhappy almost every day -a part in my life where I believed I was not worth it.

If you have ever felt this way, know that you are not alone and you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Have the courage to let go of something that is not helping you to become who you are meant to be. It will be hard, but it will be worth it. If you have not heard this from any other person, hear it from me, and then believe it: IT GETS BETTER. When you’re in the darkness, it’s hard to believe that — I know — but it gets worse before it gets better. Remember, it takes a certain amount of darkness to see the stars. A certain about of pressure to create a diamond. A certain about of heat to forge a burning fire. I promise you, you can make it through this. Life gets hard, and life gets discouraging, but life should never get to the point where you feel worthless or like the world would be a better place without you in it. Because when you let yourself believe that, you are stealing the greatness straight from under you before you have the chance to discover it. I made it through this part of my life. It took a lot of fighting, and trial and error, but I made it. I know it’s awful but don’t let anybody ever silence your voice. Never forget that. We all have stories that are worth sharing — that should be shared. Do not let your story go untold. You are strong enough to make it through your life — it was given to you for a reason.

You are stronger and more powerful than you know, no matter what your mind or the world may tell you. You are beautiful, resilient, and smart. It’s going to be really hard to start the process to recovery. Sometimes you won’t be sure if you even want to recover because you are so familiar with the sadness that consumes you. Sometimes,during recovery, you’ll feel like you aren’t getting better because you are finally allowing the pain to come inside. You have to embrace it and not run from it. Your wounds may not heal the way you want them to, and it will take time. Be gentle to yourself, and to your mind, and to your heart because, even though you may not feel worthy, you deserve to heal from all this pain. You have to forgive yourself and understand that none of this is your fault and that you are so, so worthy of love. Recovery and healing will come in waves, and sometimes you will gently hit the sand and it will feel beautiful. Other days, you might hit the rocks, and the pain might make you hit your knees.

Please love yourself, and take care of yourself. Not for anyone else except you. You’re going to have to let people in though. Recovery takes people who love you to get you to where you deserve to be and stay away from people who tell you that you aren’t worthy and that you will be depressed for the rest of your life. Rid yourself of toxic relationships and embrace the newness of trying to get better. Be honest with yourself and others about how you feel , what you want, what you need, and who you are.

You are braver than you think. You can, and you will come out of the other side of this so much stronger than you could even believe. You, are the epitome of a warrior, so fight.

would be a burden to my soul

They live in disbelief

never knowing of the toll

They walk so carelessly

treading harshly on the gift given so lovingly

Contemplating existence but never seeing the truth

Having many gods, but never noticing the one true God

One day, Death creeps around the corner

and stopping on the doorstop begins to chip away

Scratching and clawing at this nonbelievers soul

For Satan knows there’s not much time

and soon it will be his

But God pours out His heart and gives one final cry

“Repent and I will forgive”

“I gave my Son for you, so you don’t have to end with pain”

“Please, my child, run into my grace”

No longer terrified, for a soul is filled with light

The Devil crawls away, knowing he has lost this fight

With one final breath, a believer at the end, goes into the light.

I have come to the realization that for many, many years, I have been running from my anxiety, hoping to get away, but never actually getting very far. So now, I have stopped running. I have turned to face this giant monster that has made a home in my head. Feet planted, I am going to war every day. Slowly, one step at a time towards it, and it is finally retreating instead of barreling towards me like it has for years. I’m sure it will always be in my field of vision, but now I am hopeful that one day, it won’t be close enough to wound me quite as much. Now that the monster is releasing some of its hold on my mind, I am starting to see just how resilient it’s been. My mind is capable and brilliant, and imaginative, and so many words that I never saw before because I was so susceptible to fear and anxious thoughts. It’s mystifying that I am finally using these words to describe my own brain when I spent so many years in school studying other brains. It’s so unfamiliar to have confidence in myself. These are words that other’s used to describe me, sure, but I could never form them in my own head. It’s quite a beautiful sentiment to finally see your potential after so many years of others seeing it in you.

It takes quite a toll on you both emotionally and physically, to re-wire your brain after so many years, which is ironic because I’m trying to heal my mind in the first place. But the saying goes “it gets worse before it gets better.” That’s basically been my life for the last few months, but there is light on the other side for the first time in a while. I read something a few days ago that really hit home. The author compared herself to an egg, fragile, seemingly intact and clean on the outside. Inside, however, was a different story. There was a mess inside that shell. You do everything possible to keep from breaking, because heaven forbid, you crack and someone actually gets a glimpse of that mess. That would be the end of the world inside your mind. My shell shattered a few months ago, and at first, I never thought I could put myself back together. But I have been, and while it’s not the perfect egg that it used to be (or seemed to be to everyone else), I think the visible cracks have made me stronger. Those cracks are the vulnerability of sharing about my mental health and not just holding it all inside.

If I’m being honest, I’ve questioned God more than once in the last few months. Not my faith in Him or His existence, but things like ‘Why would God make me with so many emotions and wild thoughts?’ ‘Why does He let my thoughts spin out of control?’ ‘What is the purpose for the anxiety that has had such a strong hold on me?’ Those kinds of questions. I think those kinds of questions are okay because I’ve been challenging myself instead of just staying stagnant. Personally, I think God likes questions like that. He’s been patient with me, slowly revealing His plan. Today, I read a quote that made it even more evident.

“What if what you are going through right now, is God creating in you a story, that someday someone else will desperately need to hear?”

One of the things I needed the most during the darkest times was to know that I wasn’t alone. That is why I tell my story and speak about my own battle; so that one day, if needed, someone else will know that they aren’t alone either; and so I will continue to press on and fight, knocking the ugly monster back one step at a time. If you are reading this, and are also battling a monster, please reach out to me. I’d love to have a conversation with you about it.

“Dear love,

I remember the conversation as clear as day, talking about our broken homes and the people that couldn’t stay. I didn’t believe in love and you were afraid you’d become your father’s son, never sticking it out when things came undone. We talked about the families we always wanted but never got to comprehend, and about the marriages, we hoped for but we weren’t quite sure it could ever really work. I was afraid of commitment, but honestly, too stubborn to admit to it. Maybe it was because I never quite understood the value of that commitment if all it got you was a shattered heart and let’s not even start about the kids intertwined in that twisted up mess. Or maybe we should, because I think, too often, we think entirely too much about custody and money never stopping to think about the battle just starting. And even when that war is won and years have passed, there’s still a boy or a girl with fictitious thoughts about what love is and how to make a marriage more than just distraught.

See when I was only two; my mommy went away because for some reason, unbeknownst to me, she just couldn’t stay. Days turned into weeks and weeks into years and without even realizing it the thought of her disappeared. Then daddy married someone new and my love for her grew ’cause a child of three doesn’t truly see and a child of four doesn’t remember the first mom anymore. All would have been grand and I’m not quite sure if dad would have ever been honest or let me go on thinking I actually truly belonged, to this woman I now called mom. “Real mother”, “biological mother” came running back and the confusion began.

“I don’t know this lady, and oh, why is she crying, and now she’s grabbing and holding” and “WHY WON’T ANYONE LEAVE ME ALONE”. Then, I hear the words ‘court’ and ‘judge’ and how does a 6-year-old mind grasp that she may have to leave the family she’s always known behind. Therapy, custody, yelling through the lines and that 6, 7, 8 year old’s view on love is now corrupted and distorted.

The shouting calmed and the battle was won, supposedly, but the cycle had just begun. Suitcases, phone calls, and visitation rights were life. Revolving doors and constant strife running the course led to the dreaded, 2nd divorce. An emergence of anxiety and pushing emotions down silently. The battle had unknowingly traveled to the mind of the one who never had a fault but was somehow left behind.

Who would have ever thought she would see divorce twice in her life and maybe that’s why I was scared to become a wife. Terrified I’d leave my own daughter behind. He tells me I am different and most of the time I really sincerely believe him. Love, thank you for helping me see it and I promise I am trying and I’m not just gonna quit. I’ll stay every day and even when inevitably this thing becomes tough, I’ll fight against every cell exclaiming I should “run”. I may not understand this crazy thing called love, but I’ll choose you, even when it’s rough. We’ll be the examples we never really had, and our future kids will say they had a present mom and dad. “