There's No Place Like Home

Home is a tricky thing. It's revered as the most important place you can be. Home sweet home. Home is where the heart is. You can't go home again. 

As someone who has had many homes in her lifetime it's even trickier for me. 

The boys and I went to Illinois this weekend and everyone kept saying, "welcome back home!" And that was so sweet. 

Then one said, "This is nice, but my home is Florida."

Which makes sense. My kids have been in Florida since they were small children. So then I got to thinking; where is home to me?

It shouldn't be a hard question to ask, but I like to overthink and analyse things to death so why should this be any different?

Home is my first memories, which happened to be in Alaska. I remember the house we lived in, our neighbours, and the pets we had. 

Home is the first time I truly remember getting hurt, when I was hit by a car in Johnston City, Illinois. I remember my aunt bringing me a tiger from the Shirt Tales cartoon, I remember my dad was TDY, and I remember the laughs that were had after everyone knew I was okay. 

Home is the first pet I remember losing. When we moved from Texas to Hawaii we left my cat with my grandmother. Sometime after that, she wrote and said my cat had died. I remember misunderstanding her letter and laughing at her silliness. Then my mom had to explain that Fluffy had actually died. It broke my little heart and I'll always remember how sad I felt for days after. 

Home is my first kiss as an awkward 12 year old. I was never a pretty girl, I was never a popular girl, I was always the DUFF. The one they'd throw to their friend who never got a date. Then this guy I've liked since fourth grade came over one day, we talked talked and he kissed me. Right before I moved. lol talk about timing. 

Home is moving to my first school without the cloak of "military brat" to cover me anymore. The first school where I was the "weird new girl from Hawaii", and that's it. The first place I was out of my element and having to explain things I took for granted that everyone knew. 

Home is the first time my heart was broken. I felt what I thought was love for the very first time and ended up broken hearted. Of course many, many years later I learned about the real thing, but at the time it was completely real for me. 

Home is the first time I became a mother. Over 21 years ago my life changed for the better and the worse and since then I have two amazing, beautiful sons I wouldn't change for the world.

You see, my home is spread out all over the globe. My home, my heart, cannot be contained to a house, or a building, or anything other than a state of mind. 

So I guess one could say I'm homeless, or I just consider everywhere I go to be my home. 

So yeah, I guess when I visited Illinois, I was home, in every form or fashion. 

Today is Today...Not Tomorrow.

So one of the things people know about me is I tend to over analyse. And not just complex issues, but simple issues that most people don't think twice about. It's a huge burden I deal with, but because it's the way my mind works I learn to deal with it; to accept it.

Unfortunately it's hard on those around me because I'm incessant with my need to question EVERYTHING. Why? Why? Why? Why??? And I'm usually the frustrated one because the answers I seek aren't always there.

Lately I've had something that I have never had before and it's made me a happier person. It's made me more aware of my good qualities, my beauty as a person, and how wonderful I truly can be.

Unfortunately with the analytical mind comes the doubt. Is this sincere? Is this just a fallacy or imagination? But I'm learning to push that all aside and try to just enjoy it.

Yet today I found myself in tears because I was overthinking my future again. Where am I going to be? Am I going to be happy? What choices will I make? Will I be alone? Who will I end up being? All the questions one asks when debating decisions.

I disgusted myself for the first time. Why can't I just enjoy myself in the moment and not try to figure out every single detail for the next fifty years? Why can't I just be satisfied with where I am and who I am instead of constantly trying to improve or change? Why must I complicate things to the point of insanity? If I keep this up I will be alone. No sane man will put up with my mind for very long. I can barely tolerate it as of late.

I'm not promised a future.

I'm not promised tomorrow.

I only have today.

So my goal is, to love and accept today for what it is. My goal is to focus on the love I've been given and cherish it. My goal is to not understand, but to embrace and treasure.

And my goal is to cut myself some slack. Yes, it's pathetic to have to remind myself to QUIT OVER THINKING. Lord knows I have plenty of loved ones who do that. But the amount of disgust I feel for myself right now is simply revolting; only for the reason that if I don't chill out, and if I don't learn to accept things as they are instead of trying to fix them, I'm going to lose.

That scared me.

I don't want to lose. I want to be the victor. And I can strategise all day long until the cows come home, but reason doesn't take into account feelings, and emotions, and the unpredictability of others.

Not only do I want to be the victor, I AM the victor. I'm not a loser; I'm not a quitter. I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm me. And I am wonderfully and beautifully made. And everything about me is loved; my mind, my heart, my flaws, my happiness and my sadness.

I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of wondering. I just want to...love. And if I truly believe love is a choice, and the choice is made, then the only standing in my way...is myself. And I'm unkindly shoving myself out of the way and standing triumphantly.

I am happy.

I am in love with today.

I am loved.

Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Honesty Sucks

I've been lying to you. I've been lying to me. I've been telling the world a lie and I finally recognised it for what it is. A big, fat, ugly lie.

It's been a month since we last spoke, Since promising words were whispered under a clandestine moon. It's been a month since my heart was filled with dread that it would be our last, not realising it was.

I thought I was passed it. I thought I had moved on and healed. The sobbing shower tonight told me different. The words, "I hate him!" screaming through the streams of water spoke a truth I didn't even notice until now.

Promises were made...promises that had been broken many times by others but sworn to never be broken by him. Words and thoughts and hearts were exchanged with the vision of being forever tied together. Little did I know it wouldn't take much to break them. I thought they were strong as steel but they were as weak as a a spiders web in a raging summer storm.

You see, everything was perfect. I was happier than I have ever been in my life. I was with someone who validated me, who treasured me for who I was and not what he wanted me to be, and who thought I was more brilliant than a lightbulb. I was treated more precious than gold or silver.

Who would have thought it would take a small wrinkle in life to turn it all around? I'll admit; I'm not blameless. I could have done something more substantial to make things work, but I felt like I needed to honour my word and wait three years. I was content with that because I knew it would take us that long to keep getting to know each other, and each other's families. It would give everyone a chance to accept and realise it was the real thing and not some passing fancy.

Little did I know it didn't take much to bring it crashing down around us. A petty threat made by one who understood nothing, let alone me and my intentions. A nasty comment about my "inappropriateness" and "need for therapy" was all it took. How dare they? How dare they make judgments without even knowing me? How dare they question my integrity for the sake of appearances and ill gotten opinions? How dare the words, "It's not about you" pass by when it was all completely about me and the fact that I was older in years? We all know I act my age and some *sarcasm*. We all know I'm the epitome of maturity. *rolling my eyes*

It all boils down to one factor: I wasn't worth it. Fear overtook promises and won. It wasn't even a battle to be honest. It was a surrender. He hoisted that white flag up so high he probably smacked himself in the face with it. He caved to their wishes and did exactly what they wanted instead of keeping his word.

Here's where it gets personal for me: Will I ever be able to trust another person again? Will I ever matter enough to someone to stay with me? Will I ever be worth fighting for?

I'm done lying to you. I am broken. I thought I was bent but it's much worse than that. If you saw my naked emotions you would see a gaping wound covered by a thick wall of protection so no one can ever hurt me again. I can't imagine ever being that vulnerable to someone else again.

I find it ironic that me, a person who believes in fairy tales, happily ever afters, true loves first kiss and the prince on the white steed who delivers it would fall prey to loneliness and utter betrayal.

I'm learning my story has a different ending. Maybe my fairy tales is filled with me and my bunny having fun frolicking in fields. Maybe my happily ever after is working at a homeless shelter, soup kitchen, animal rescue center. And maybe my prince on the white steed is watching my children be the men they need to be; the men I raised them to be.

I may never find love again, and I may need to learn to be content on my own but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. But it doesn't mean I'm quitting either. I'm still me. And I'll still "fake it till I make it" because I'm still an Englebright, and Englebright's Go Big or Go Home.

Silent Screams

When all you can do is open your mouth and pray a sound comes out. Clutching a drenched pillow in the moonlight as your heart wails to the stars. 


His brow furrows and her lips purse seeing that vacant wild gaze you sweep upon them. You hear them before the sound even reaches their lips. 


You fail. 
Your fault. 
You die. 
Worthless. 
Expendable. 
Cheap. 
Failure. 
Retched. 
Undeserving. 
Unloved.



You know these words. They are the song tattooed on your heart. They resonate in your soul like the beating of the drums. Slow. Steady. Strong. Consistent. 


You dream of a far off time when the sun would catch your lips and the breeze waft through your hair as if it were spun silk. 


You remember when your soul laughed and the tears that streamed down your face weren't from anguish but joy and contentment. 


You run around blindly searching for the one who might comfort you. Whose arms are strong enough to block even boulders from crushing your heart. Pushing through the weeds and filth of your existence you realise your search is in vain. 


There is no Great Comforter. There is no where safe. There's nowhere left for you to run. 


Your existence is final. You have been chosen as the least acceptable and it Has Been Written. 


Falling to your knees in defeat you know it to be true. Despair has hit you like a ton of bricks; knocking your breath away and settling around you like a death shroud. 


Go ahead.
You know you want to. 
You just know you can't. 
No one will hear you. 
No one will care about you. 
No one will notice...your silent scream.

Forgiveness

Earlier this year I met someone and when we connected I thought, “This is the last guy I ever date, whether it works out or not.” Let me tell you something, dating SUCKS ASS. Like majorly. I hear these stories of how people had life changing issues, got back on their feet and BAM! The dating world opened up to them like a geyser. They met all these people, had all these adventures, and things were just swell for them. So I get it in my brain that's how it's going to be for me. NOT!! Oh my goodness. It was awful. I seriously thought I would need a tetanus shot or rabies vaccine after some of the dates I went on.

Then I met this guy. We talked for hours. We connected. We laughed. We disagreed. And we agreed on so much. His voice was the first thing I heard in the morning and generally the last thing I heard at night. I was hooked.

Then I started noticing things. Nothing blatant or obvious, but small nuances that would pop up and cause me to take a step back and look quizzically at things. Small things I soon learned to ignore. You see, one of my biggest characteristics is being a perfectionist. I look at myself and expect perfection, and because I know I'm far from it, I don't even try. I look at others and think of how things should have gone or should have been said for it to have been a perfect situation. So when in a relationship I really struggle with red flags versus my idiosyncrasies popping up. I ignored the red flags and kept on trucking. Maybe red flags are too strong? Yellow? Orange? Regardless, things weren't right and I struggled significantly with them.

Soon I began to cling to the small beauties that popped up occasionally. Validation of my opinion. Punny texts all through the night. Frustrating concern when my safety and my sons safety were in question. Those small gestures became life lines and I didn't even realize I was drowning. The rest of the time I felt was spent placating rants and frustrations just to keep from being the focus of them. And of course waiting patiently for the attention I was apparently never going to get.

When it was over and I was left bewildered and confused I realized I really shouldn't be. I saw the signs. I knew what was going on. I just chose to ignore it because I was enamored by this person…this creature would could turn mundane discussions about comics into a full fledged debate over which is better, DC or Marvel. Who could bring clarity to a crazy situation and walk me through it. He had his great points. And he had his not so great points. And it was only when I realized it was over that I could look at everything about him, good and bad, and understand why it didn't work out.

And guess what I learned? Not a bloody thing. Surprising huh? Not really. Because it all boils down to one concept. He is an imperfect man and I am an imperfect woman and the likelihood of us being perfect together was slim to none. I could sit here and pick him apart and tell you every little flaw and irritants that I discovered but what would that prove? Nothing. Because that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I've come to terms with the loss of what I thought we had as opposed to what we DID have.

I'm here to say three words: I. Forgive. You.

And I'm free to say those words because I've finally forgiven myself for all the mistakes I made and all the dorky things I did to push him away. I'm finally free to move on with the knowledge that I'm not perfect, no one is perfect and to expect perfection only leads to disappointment.

And that's it. Nothing special. Nothing fancy. Just that simple message I hope one day he can accept.

Because it's true. I do forgive you.

The Appeal

It took another man to walk away with nary a word for me to realise something about myself. I hold no appeal to the opposite sex.

Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I decided at the beginning of the year the last I was dating would be the last. And he will be. But it took his absense for me to notice my lack of appeal and what I'm going to do about it.

You see, I'm too liberal for the Christian guys and too conservative for the more liberal thinkers. Too matronly for the younger guys and too immature for older men. Too into football for the geeks and too geeky for the jocks. Too smart for the industrial man and too shallow for the intellects. I'm too loud and outgoing for the quiet man, but too much of an introvert for the outgoing life of the party. I'm funny enough for the dry guy but not witty enough for the class clown. I'm chaste around the boisterous man, but too shocking for the modest guys. I'm loving and kind and honourable and organised. I love animals and my own children and willing to open my heart to his. I fear adding "a true submissive woman" because it can be misinterpreted as easily walked over and that's far from it.

I spent a lot of time looking for the right guy that I forgot how to be the right woman, not realizing she was there all along.

You see, I was never looking for a jock, or a geek, or someone smart. I was only looking for someone who loved me. Who wanted to be with me and who invested himself in me whatever way possible. Someone who thought I was worth it.

I quit looking for that person. Instead I AM that person. I love who I am. I enjoy who I've become. And I think I am so worth every effort I put forth and more.

I'll grow, and I'll mature and I'll make mistakes along the way. But I will never lose sight of who I am and how much I'm worth. Never again. If someone wants to join me on this journey, so be it. But if not, I'm fine taking it solo.

As for what I'll change about myself? Not a bloody thing. And if you love me, and if you value me as a person, a woman, a sister in Christ, you won't ask me to.

Thank you for loving me. And thank you for letting me love me too. I love you all dearly and love sharing my journey with you.

The Best of Me...and The Best of Me

So for lent I decided to give up romance novels, and last week was Easter so I was able to go back to them. I decided not to. I was able to think and realise why I read them and why they became so important in my life.

 

For one, they were a great way to pass time. If I was sitting around and wanted to read something that didn’t require too much brain power, I would read a romance novel. Most are simply written and rarely do I read one that I end up perplexed and have to go back and re-read passages.

 

And as a single woman they were a way to fulfill a fantasy. I’m not shy; I’ll admit it. I would read those books and picture myself with a man like that and if I’d be happy with him. Some men were too alpha for me, some were too weak, some just too perfect and others too flawed. There were a few that I thought I could see myself with and found myself looking for that man instead of looking at the men in my life. I would put those characters on a pedestal and forget they were fiction. It was dangerous and I didn’t realise I was doing it until I stopped reading the books.

 

As for how the removal helped my relationship, it didn’t. But that’s okay. The end of any relationship sucks and hurts but if I didn’t learn anything from it, it would be for naught. And I learned that men in real life are soooo different than book characters and if I had the choice I’d pick real men every time. I learned that men aren’t as cognizant about things as I am, but that doesn’t mean they care any less. It just means they think differently.

 

I also learned that I am not ready for a relationship. At least right now. And not because I don’t want one, but because it’s not time. When it’s time, it will be because God says so, not because I do. I wish I figured this out before I got hurt, but that’s more my fault than anything.


I take this back. I AM ready, but it wasn't the right time with the right person. Someday it will be, and that's because God will say so, not me.

 

I am incredibly thankful for this experience, and grateful I am able to continue my life without romance novels. Oh I’m sure I’ll read one here and there, but for now I’ll just focus on other things.

 

Thank you for reading my life journeys. I can’t do this without you. Any of you.