Friends with Benefits (of the doubt) and the Ten C’s.

“If you want a friend, first you must be a friend.” I’m sure you have heard this quote before but what I am curious about is if you believe it? Because if I am honest and blunt – two qualities that are sometimes like a bad gift, re-gifted until finally appreciated by the right recipient – then I would say most people don’t want a true friend. They want an agreeable friend.

The problem with that is that a true friend isn’t always agreeable. Friendship means the combination of affection, loyalty, love, respect, and trust. How can you possibly love, respect or trust someone who stands beside you with the sole intent of being pleasing to you instead of being more concerned with being a true friend to you?

There are ten C’s to friendship. I call these the ingredients to Friends with benefits – of the doubt. With these ten C’s put into action within your friendships not only will they thrive but you’ll recognize the difference between a friendship who benefits them or a friendship that benefits you both.

Communication & Contribution. There must be open and honest communication for any relationship to strive, especially a friendship. And, it is a two-way street. Conversations don’t work well when they are one sided. They may be nice if you want to be right all the time, but if you think you’re right all the time, you are already wrong! So. There’s that. Both communication and contribution require feedback and action on both sides. On the days when they can’t pull the full weight of the friendship, you take on the task. You pick up where the other lacks. If you feel hurt, speak it. If you miss them, say it. If you want to see them, get your tush in the car and drop by. The days of “the phone works both ways so they could call me if I mattered to them” only works if you are calling too. So, call your friend!

Consideration. This is one of my top two favorites of the C’s. The reason being is that if consideration is given to any relationship it’s as if it’s the nutrients underground that causes it to grow. The true benefit of a friend is for them to know you well enough to know you meant better. If someone says something that hurts you, but you give them the consideration you already know they deserve, and the benefit of the doubt before you take on any anger or hurt – you’ve already won. A true friend won’t choose to hurt you. When a true friend apologizes to me when they think they have hurt me, my response is “I know your heart, and I know your intentions always come from a good place.” That consideration saves us both wasted time in a sea of assumptions and what ifs that can drown a skilled sailor. By the way, what-ifs usually don’t happen so give your wandering mind and sensitive heart a breather.  

Celebration. The girls and tribes that surround each other at each life event and celebrate them, are women after my own heart. You lost 10 lbs, heck yes girl! You got a new job, let’s go to dinner and celebrate! You got the job I applied for too, the better person for the job, won. We are not the others cancellation. We are collaborators doing life together. If your own friends can’t celebrate you than who can? And, if you can’t celebrate your friends then you need to reevaluate how you are “friending.” Being a friend’s cheerleader in life should be a desire that comes wholeheartedly and without any fear of being or receiving less because of it. You purpose set aside by God will never lessen or dissolve by another’s gain or step ahead. Grab a megaphone and shout how awesome your friend did and how proud you are to know a woman who goes for what she wants!

Confrontation and Condoning. Odd right? These two are my FAVORITES. What are these two C’s doing here and how do these two attributes benefit or define a true friendship? Easy. A true friend will confront you and will not condone bad behavior. And, this causes one of the biggest demises in friendships. Who wants a friend that doesn’t accept them treating the other poorly? Or a friend that says you shouldn’t cheat on your spouse? Or, that you should not allow someone to abuse you. God does and I do. We are not here to tell someone it is okay for them to set themselves up to self-destruct or to destroy others. The sin of passivity tells us just that. We are not to idly sit by and do nothing. And, when a friend does something to us, that is wrong, you are supposed to call them out on it. (Matthew 18:15-17) You pull them aside, address the issue face to face, remedy the issue and then forgive. That is friendship. Yet, so many want to be passive and pleasing – or to have others be that way to them. Not me, I want the truth, I want to be held accountable and questioned when necessary. If I am wrong, I will own it and make amends. That is how we grow. (James 4:17, NIV)

Challenge, Confidence & Competition. There is nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, right?! But, why are we competitive and how do we benefit? When we see others doing well, we want to do well. That is why people create like-minded circles to work-out, do bible studies with, etc. because can learn so much from the people around us who want better and more for us. I love a friend that challenges me, that adds a dose of healthy competition because they can see my ability as stronger than I can. And, this over time builds confidence, not just in yourself, but in your friendship. When you can sit with someone and they can see you need a boost of confidence and they not only help with that but celebrate when you step up to the challenge, that is beautiful!

Ah, the final C, and the most important, Christ. You had to know this was coming! If you’re not into God, or the bible and I just lost you – please keep reading. Because if you want to be a better friend, it starts with wanting to be a better christian. Christ is love and if we enter any relationship through love – it’s a game changer. With my friendships I’ve realized a great many of them were as if I walked through a crowd and picked from the most broken of people. A beautiful sentiment in part because who that is broken doesn’t deserve or want to be loved? After all God loves me and I have been broken most of my life. (Ecclesiastes 4:19-12)

I love first. I commit first. I do all these C’s first – jumping in with both feet and praying I make a big splash. That splash is for God. You see, it isn’t even about me in the end – it’s about him. That friend that walked away from me, that is okay because I know I did just as God says I should. That friend that needed someone at 1 am and never spoke to me again, that was God using me to help them. I’ve not lost friends; I’ve just been re-purposed to a new friend for whatever he needs of me. And, as a pinch to grow an inch, I’ll throw in a little extra C solely for his glory. Completely. Love others as such, just as he loves us.

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. 1 John 4:7

Keep watering the dead plants.

“Stop texting first and see how many dead plants you’ve been watering”

Is this you? Are you the first friend to check in, the first to text or call and you feel exhausted as if the friendship is a one way street? That was me, until I realized what God was actually doing.

For the better part of the past few years I have made a choice to choose happiness and to be a kinder more loving person. Gone were the days of venting and posting negative things on Facebook, any passive aggressive undertones and boasting for praise and acceptance. Positive Polly was in the house and she meant serious business! Not only was I going to encourage and motivate others, I was going to love people intensely and generously without judgment. I was going to crush comparison one thieved joy at a time, and I was going to nourish and cultivate some beautiful friendships.

I’ve always filled my own heart by filling others hearts. Some may disagree with this and think I can’t pour from an empty glass. However, maybe my glass refills from another source. Making someone else happy or making them feel loved, valued and noticeable is the most incredible feeling, it’s medicine for my soul. And, giving something that personal is one of the most risky things one can do. But, I do it, time and time again. Because out of any desire in life I wanted most it has always been To love so greatly that my heart is overgrown with stretch marks. If I do everything else wrong but love correctly – I count that as win.

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

My heart has always caused me to care differently than most. To be honest, having a bleeding heart or leaking reservoir has felt like a curse at times. I’ve asked God, “why does my heart get me into such trouble, why did you give me a heart like this? It’s been broken, bruised, manipulated and yet I still continue to love others. What is wrong with me?” It wasn’t until recently that he answered me, and revealed that my heart is not just an organ with vessels, it’s a chosen vessel in a whole different sense.

As with all the good that came from my reaching out, texting first, encouraging, being a social cheerleader and defender of all, bad was sure to follow. There were days when being the one to check in was exhausting and would deplete my heart. And, then there came days when I noticed that if I didn’t reach out, I was surrounded by silence. There were days when I really needed someone to ask how I was, to check in on me, to remind me that I was important and necessary to them. But, no one did. Facebook became my lifeline of key events, life changes etc instead of my friends and that hurt.

That hurt soon turned into bitterness and the bitterness made me feel guilty. After all I knew that don’t give to receive and I knew that was not my intention. However, I was saddened that it appeared I was unimportant to so many people around me. So, one day I just stopped. I stopped texting, I stopped going on Facebook and I withdrew completely. And, you know what happened, the silence multiplied, I lost contact with many people, no one noticed my absence and I was socially a ghost. And, I felt worse because I was forcing myself to not be who I felt I was meant to be.

Sometimes, a season of silence and separation ends up being the loudest connection.

Silence in the waiting. It became evident to me that this was supposed to be a time of just God and I. This was a time for me to build and love on my friendship with God and to see things that only would be visible with my attention fully on him. I’m a social person, and I love people, get-togethers, trips, anything and everything out and about with others. My happiness comes from inclusion, and that is why I always invited and planned, because that assured I would be included as well. But, God needed me to understand something more.

God words don’t always come in a beautiful moment atop a mountain over looking his creation. Sometimes they come while floating on a $2 float in your clearance backyard pool that’s only 30″ high. As I was floating attempting to erase the tan lines from a different suit, I was listening to a sermon from Steven Furtick, Frozen Oil and Chosen Vessels. About 22 minutes in, he explains the oil only flows when you’re pouring. It is not a situation of not having enough to pour, and waiting until you have more, it is pour now and it multiplies.

You see, I’ve always poured my heart out and into people and life. You will get the same response from my enemy and best friend that I have a huge heart. And, until now I thought that was both a blessing and a curse. Because, I don’t always get that in return. BUT… God told me I was so wrong about 8 minutes later in this sermon. It was not about me, and not even necessarily about my connection with them. My heart pouring into them was from a whole other source, God. He was filling my jar of oil as I was pouring into them. Whether they returned it, accepted me, appreciated me or not, that doesn’t stop God’s need for me to keep pouring. I am his chosen vessel with an organ of vessels that loves so entirely and endlessly – for his Grace and his purpose.

As I took that in, my heart settled and swelled. It doesn’t matter if my loving a person doesn’t get returned. Or if my writing goes unseen and only helps one person – it is not about me – it is about him. And to me, that type of blind love, faith and obedience is the freedom I needed and a beautiful reminder that the oil will never run dry when your pouring from a source of love; God.

You deserve to heal.

The truthful story of a young girls’ abortion and how God’s grace restored her faith.

Abortion is not a topic people like to talk about aside from an easily forwarded meme or a hashtag. Many tweet their support or opposition much like the trending #youknowme , #shoutyourabortion #abortionishealthcare and #abortionismurder , #lovethemboth and #unplanned. Your friends are most likely divided as well and some like myself may have been torn on how they felt and throughout the years changed their minds. I’m sharing her story because we need to talk about the things no one talks about. We need to include the unknown, the uninformed and what really happens behind closed doors, inside broken homes and what can lead to, occurs during and follows an abortion.

She’s sitting there in a paper gown staring down at her feet praying harder than she’s ever prayed before, asking God to please not let her be pregnant. Pleading her case with him that she can’t be pregnant. She is too young, she is unprepared, her home-life is broken, she’s financially unstable, alone and scared. She only had sex one time, this can’t be happening. There is no possible way she can raise a child on her own when she is a child herself. As the door opens and her eyes meet the doctors eyes, she knows the result before he opens his mouth; she’s pregnant.

The nurse comes in, she is gentle, supportive and kind. The nurse consoles her, hands her a tissue and tells her she is going to be okay. Though unplanned this is not unmanageable, she has options: Abortion, Adoption, Abortion, Being a mother, or Abortion. She’s not very far along, approximately 4-6 weeks, there is no heartbeat yet, just a clump of cells – abortion is an option. And, she can have one tomorrow. She isn’t given tools for coping with the news of her pregnancy, she isn’t given time to discuss options, research options, and she isn’t offered support in becoming a mother.

This girl; she is more common than you realize. She is your sister, your mother, your wife or girlfriend. She is the lady beside you at church that cries every Sunday. She is your grandmother, your teacher, your coach, your therapist, your doctor; or maybe she is you. And, she is just as loved by God as you are. We don’t know her backstory, we don’t know what led her to a choice we may not choose or understand, and very few understand the torment that consumes her life after she realizes what she’s done.

The girl I knew was only sixteen when she found out she was pregnant. She had only had sex the one time. She was a good teenager for the most part, went to church every Sunday, stayed away from drugs and trouble. She had an unhealthy home-life which was littered with abandonment and loss, so she found “love” in relationships. She thought he would love her if she gave herself to him, but she’d find out eventually she was wrong.

When she found out she was pregnant, she was terrified. It was as if she was gifted an impossibility. She was handed something that she could never really have, and none of what she wanted even mattered, because her hand was forced. Her boyfriend wanted her to have the abortion, her father would have done worse, so her desires never entered her mind or heart. Her fear cancelled out any clarity or possibility of love, her shame cancelled out the desire for help, care or concern, and their control erased her options of breaking the unhealthy cycle of the life she was born into.

The day after she found out she was pregnant, with the help of a kind nurse and request of her boyfriend, she had an abortion. Just like that, quickly and easily accessible. A child, without parental consent or knowledge, any proper counseling, had an abortion. She was simply carrying a child who was viewed by others as a problem that their solution could solve. Her boyfriend wanted rid of any responsibility and eventually would leave her as well, once the “problem” was solved.

It would be six years later that she would find herself in a similar paper gown, this time with her husband and the hope of being pregnant. The doctor came in confirming the good news, and performed an ultrasound. This was the first time she had viewed a baby on an ultrasound. She saw a fluttering and asked what that was, and he told her it was the baby’s heart beating. She asked how far along she was and he said about 6 or 7 weeks. And, she cried. Not tears of the love to come, the joy of being pregnant but tears of regret, failure and disappointment. She suffered a loss in that moment realizing the supportive nurse from before wasn’t as honest and helpful as she had thought. And, she felt undeserving of this child too.

She revisited that day six years ago; which consisted of mere moments scattered like chaos. She remembered the emptiness. She looked back down at her feet just as she did at sixteen and remembered leaving that clinic feeling like a worthless woman. She remembered the steps from the exam room to the front door of the doctors office being heavy and long, that the hallway stretched like looking through a funny mirror and one step closer felt like 300 steps back.

She remembers that the exam room table chilled her body. That the air held a smutty dampness that was thick enough to choke you yet invisible; deceiving you into trying. That it held an ominous feeling of emptiness and an overabundance of death. She remembers the tears running like she wanted to. Running and hiding behind anything and anyone to save her. But, she had no one.  And, no one would understand or feel sorry for her.

The cramping and immense pain that started as mild discomfort gradually became the type of pain only a monster deserved to endure. It was a hell she deserved. The silence that accompanied the pain was broken by the sound of a machine being switched on. A low hum of suctioning, sounding strangely familiar to the sound she had just heard today of her baby’s heartbeat; except that this machine had silenced it.

She’s unable to recall arriving or leaving the doctor’s office that day. No idea of how she got home, how she cared for herself following the procedure or any other detail of that day. All she remembers is that outside
of that room she was an empty shell of existence and was never the same again. There wasn’t just the painful awareness and absence of what had been growing in her belly the past few weeks, but also the realization that every ounce of her soul was extracted and held captive in the same container that held her baby.

She had often wondered if the women who came before and followed after were as uniformed, frightened and tearful as she was on that day. Were they alone and there because they felt like they had no other choice? Did they feel as though God didn’t love them and that he would never forgive them? Do the tears ever revisit them, weighted with the same shame and despair as hers? Did their lives get lost without healing, did they slip into addiction, self harm, sexual or physical abuse, or did they possibly attempt suicide like she had.

She recalls being disgusted with herself the days and weeks following her abortion, even her own reflection was too much to bear. Even though the nurse told her it wasn’t a baby, she felt like it was and she felt as though she suffered a loss. A loss that others would say she had no right to suffer or grieve, thus going without any healing. And, today six years later she realized she was right, that the clump of cells was a baby, it had at the very least a heart forming and depending on how far along she really was, possibly beating.

After the abortion, she was tormented every minute by the memory of what she did, how she wasn’t strong enough to keep her baby. She knew she had let her baby, herself and God down. She wasn’t worthy of the breath she breathed, she was worthless, tainted and unlovable. She was desperate to escape her hell and trade it in for whatever hell God had planned for her. Surely she deserved it. She wrote her goodbyes, swallowed handfuls of pills and with an odd sense of calm and peace, she closed her eyes praying that they never open again.

But just as she had prayed weeks ago that she not be pregnant, God too left this prayer unanswered, or so she thought. He did not take her that night twenty-three years ago, instead he opened her eyes once again to a life she was meant to live. A life that carried consequences, pain, and anger – but ultimately filled with love, compassion, growth and understanding. She was given another chance to break the unhealthy cycle she was in, to toss away the crutch of false security and stability she leaned on, and to stand firm on her own foundation of faith, restoration and love.

What most fail to see is that our God is a loving God. He creates beauty from our ashes (Isaiah 61:3, NIV) and works all things for the good of those who love and follow him (Romans 8:28, NIV). On that awful day 23 years ago, God was with her. He held her hand the day she suffered and thought she was alone. Although he disapproved of what she was doing, he never stopped loving her, because she had never stopped believing in or loving him. Just as a loving father does. And, on the night a few weeks later when she closed her eyes praying for him to forgive her and take her life, he actually had. It wouldn’t be until six years later that she would realize that.

Failure can serve a beautiful purpose if we let it and that is why you often hear that God uses broken people to share his grace and glory. Today, I am that broken person. This girl from so many years ago, was me. And, this is my story, my truth and my testimony.

When the doctor laid my daughter on my chest six years later, and her cries were comforted by my heartbeat, I knew. It was then that I realized God have given me a new life, he had forgiven me and he showed me an endless amount of the loving grace he is. My cries were comforted by her heartbeat as well, and I named her Gracie. She saved my life in ways only God knows as that was his plan all along. She gave me purpose until I could find my own, she taught me unconditional love as I was learning to love myself and she reminded me that each child is a gift from God, perfectly planned in his image.

It took twenty-three years to heal from this and I still grieve both the act and the loss. If my sharing this either deters you or helps you understand you deserve to grieve, to heal and to be loved, then I will boast of the things that show my weakness, (1 Cor. 11:30 NIV). If you think you’re too far gone, or God’s too far away, simply say his name and know he is already there, (Isaiah 30:18, NIV).

In My Father’s House


In my Father’s house,
There’s a place for me.
I’m a child of God,
Yes I am.

Hillsong Worship

His aunt’s hand stretched backwards from the row in front of us at church, handing him two old photographs. In one, there’s a boy maybe twelve or thirteen with a red button-up shirt who looks like our son Cole, sitting next to a little black and white dog, that ironically looks like our dog Luna as well. As my husband studied the young man in the photograph, I studied him. Waiting to see if there was a warmth in his eyes as they tracked back and forth over the photos and to our son, as he compared them. Was there any reaction to seeing a man we seldom talk about? And there was, but I could see it was met with hesitation.

As I searched his eyes and studied his facial expressions, the worship band played Hillsong Worships, I am who you say I am. As we’re singing along, my mind realizes his hesitation wasn’t just rooted in the fact of the man being his father, or that he had passed years ago. His hesitation came from not knowing where his place was now. And how that picture was probably more important to him than he would care to admit. Mindlessly, the lyrics slipped out until I read the verse on the screen above, “In – my – father’s -house – , there’s – a – place – for – me -” and my voice cut out under the heaviness of the words. I couldn’t finish. None of us had a place in our father’s house, not God, but our biological fathers.

In my Father’s house there’s a place for me.

Over the years my focus had been on myself never having a place in my father’s house, and on my daughter, who didn’t have a place in her father’s house. My husband was raised by a wonderful man, who was technically his stepfather, but he accepted him as his own and treated him as such his whole life. He was his and is his father. It never crossed my mind that maybe he missed the lack of a relationship with his biological father. I had missed the fact that he too hadn’t felt as though he had a place with his own biological father, which explained more than I realized. But God’s plan was already in place; we just needed to trust and have faith.

I am chosen. Not forsaken. I am who You say I am.

Every year just before Christmas, my husband’s grandma would call him and invite us to the family breakfast at our local Elmer’s restaurant. “Matthew, this is Grandma”, she’d say, and he would respond by saying, “Yes Grandma, I know it is you, it says your name in my phone” and they would share a laugh. She would extend the invite, and we would accept. The last couple of years she would call out of the blue just to say hi and to tell him she loved him. And I would tell him he needed to spend more time with her, and he would agree, but it wouldn’t happen.

This past year that changed. What started with Christmas breakfast became a wedding, church, lunches, visits etc. It’s funny to look back now and see how smart she was in knowing that she planted the seed each Christmas starting with the breakfast, we just had to water it daily for it to grow. In January, there was a push in my heart and not a light one, it was more like a shove to get back into church, and to be closer with his family. Church was where his family was rooted, and where Grandma was every Sunday. When we would hug her and say good morning to her, I remember thinking she had the kindest eyes, and though I’ve never liked anyone touching my face, the way her hand cupped my cheek as she said good morning in return, is something I will treasure always.

Free at last, He has ransomed me. His grace runs deep.

The last time I saw her, she stopped my husband as he was walking out of her hospital room. She was asleep we had thought and suddenly we hear, “Matthew, don’t you leave me.” and it made us laugh for a minute. We had thought at first she was going to pull through, but it seemed as though we were wrong. While some other words were spoken in that room that night, that will remain in that room, but my husband received one of the grandest gifts he’ll ever receive. As he stood at her bedside she spoke to him and said, “Don’t forget me, I love you” and I don’t know that I will ever be able to recall that memory without crying, because I know he had thought of her so much over the years, but it was his hesitation that kept him away. It was one of the few times I had witnessed my usually strong as an oak husband, cry.

Grandma passed away a little over a week later, and although that was the last time I saw her, he visited her again which I know he is grateful for. Yesterday, we celebrated her life in the most beautiful way, through worship which was something I learned yesterday that she loved. Witnessing my husband up on stage with his cousins, all worshiping and singing praise together for both the joy of her living a loving life, and now dancing in heaven with Jesus was priceless. And, to know now that this writing piece that I have been working on for weeks, rooted around a song during worship and her, is all the more fitting.

I am who you say I am.

As we were about to leave her celebration of life, our son Cole, looked over at his great grandmother’s photograph and said he only – almost cried a couple times – and laughed, as he hugged me. He teased me for crying as he usually does because I cry all the time. When he asked what made me cry, I told him to look around, to see the surrounding family, the church we now belonged to and to remember it was all because of her, and that this was God’s plan all along. We just needed to water the seed from Christmas.

My husband is his grandmother’s grandson, his father’s son, his aunt’s nephew, and welcomed by the highest king whose love for him, found him and brought him home at the right time. While the push for me to return to the church, to be closer to his family is equally a blessing for me, it was all in God’s plan for my husband to find his place. The lyrics to “I am who you say I am” don’t just belong to a beautiful song of love, redemption and having a place with God, they also tell a story. A story of where a little boy’s grandmother reminded him of where his place was, how to get there again and that he was always loved and deserving.

In this post we are talking about Empowerment, inspiration, self love, motivation after abuse emotional and mental

You deserve better.

Some of us are raised with such convoluted ideals of what is expected and acceptable in relationships. Even when we know better, we don’t choose to do better. We relent, we condone, we allow others to interject their opinions and what they feel our relationship should produce or protect. Truth is – it is not their relationship. I’ve heard wait until you’re with someone for 15 years – that is a real relationship, real dedication, and real love. The hell you say?! Real love, real dedication – has no essence of time. Period. Love is an ongoing action, not a timeline.

Being a self-proclaimed love addict that had the belief that one day, if I put up with enough these disastrous and detrimental relationships would surely blossom into a loving and healthy lifetime commitment was a fallacy. I’ve literally laid down and allowed men to walk all over me my entire life, starting with my own Father. That feeling of worthlessness was like sewage that continued to spill into relationship after relationship. You want to know why that is? Because we believe what we are fed, things like the adage “you might as well stick it out – because the next person has just as much issues as the one you are with.” LIES! People listen here that is completely inaccurate. Did you ever think that maybe all these closed doors, all these U-turns, was GOD saying “Hey, I love you, this is not right for you and you need to go a different direction?” Not, stick around and continue to be beat down.

Everyone has their flaws like leaving their clothes beside the laundry basket, forgetting to take the garbage out, not always helping with the kids, but serious issues, deal breaker issues — there are men/women without them. You can do better!

They say if you want a different outcome, you must do things differently. In each relationship, I tried that. Any previous failures from ended relationships, I would try to preempt and rectify in future ones. If the guy before was unfaithful, I made myself more sexual, more available, more pleasing. If the guy before was unhappy or felt unimportant, I learned to cook, to provide, to take care of. If the guy before was deceitful and untrustworthy, I tried to open more, communicate more, to allow and invite an openness in the relationship. If the guy was emotionally, mentally or physically abusive, I would modify my looks and my behaviors. I would give up my life, my fun, my wants and needs and dedicate myself completely to helping and fixing them. DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM HERE?? The problems and changes to be made were not mine to make. It was simply the wrong relationship. I didn’t trust myself enough, I didn’t listen to my brain or follow my own intuition which was screaming incessantly that this was not okay, I can’t fix this, I deserve better!

It is important for you to realize this: It is not your job to take on the success or failure of a relationship in its entirety. If the marriage/relationship is failing and you are the only one fighting…STOP. Cheaters, cheat. Liars, lie. Abusers dominate and destroy. And Addicts, simply transfer their addictions. You do not need to stay in any of these situations. It is your choice – not God’s choice, or the Bibles choice, because if it was, it wouldn’t hurt you. God would never ask you to sin, or put yourself in harms way. It is not what is best for your children, or what is best for you. You will undoubtedly lose yourself as you continue to lose this battle.

Here is the thing, yes, we tend to fall into relationship ruts, and picking a different type of the same bad guy repeatedly. But you have the ability of modifying and updating your hardwired picker – your picker doesn’t have to remain broken. You are wiser than you give yourself credit for. And, my favorite part is this: Not every person will abuse you, not every person will cheat on you – repeatedly. Not every person will be systematically deceitful, selfish and manipulative.

In my lifetime, I have loved entirely and completely three men – an abusive alcoholic, an unfaithful deceitful younger man, and an honest to goodness good man. The honest and good men, they do exist. I didn’t have to settle. I didn’t have to allow him to hurt me to feel loved temporarily. Or chase him for attention, affection, or temporary stability. He chose to stay, he chose to be kind, to be considerate, to listen, to communicate and to love me for me – even when I feel like I don’t deserve it. And, he makes that choice every day, because he chooses to.

You’ve heard the saying do not compare your behind the scenes to someone else’s highlight reel, and it is true. Trust me, I lived in a highlight reel life, I boasted and hung tightly to every UP, because I was so tormented by every LOW. I thought I needed to be thankful for the good times, because they made the hard times worth it, which is true to a point – a breaking point. When the hard times are many and the good times are few, you must be strong enough and value yourself enough to look at why that is, and when necessary, draw the line. Enough is enough.

There are several unhealthy relationships that are littered with guarded secrets, ultimatums, unstable foundations, infidelity, deceit and immoral actions. The worst part is that there are people who think this is what they deserve! That this is the best they can have. That no one will love them outside of this relationship. That they have nothing to offer the world, no dream to chase, no voice to be heard, or gift to be shared. They look in the mirror and see failure, ridicule, embarrassment and despair, when instead they should see strength, honor, integrity, beauty, hope and success. And love, damn it! You should look at yourself in that mirror and see LOVE, for yourself.

In my mirror, I can choose to see all those negative things as well, I can see my flaws and imperfections, my failed endeavors, relationships, parental screw-ups, employment mistakes, and lord knows what else. But, you want to know what I see when I look in the mirror? I see my daughter. I see her impressive beauty, her intelligence and witty personality, and her STRONG sense of self-esteem. I see my sons, their goofy ways, kind hearts, and loving souls. The reflection of my green eyes that I love, that have cried tears of happiness more than sadness, and that many have investigated, viewing the goodness of my heart. I see a woman who has been real, honest and fought when necessary and is learning to let most battles go. I see a woman who is beautiful because of my actions, my children, my mind, and my heart – not because of my physical features. And most importantly I see a woman who is gritty, quick-witted, stubborn, hilarious, bold and authentic. There is no one like me and GOD did that on purpose.

That is what I choose to see, and what I will continue to raise my daughter to choose to see. It is what you should choose to see. Choose yourself and take back the ownership of your life. It will be the best investment you will ever make.

This post and quote talks the six friends we all have and about suicide, loss of a parent, loss of a child, divorce, empty nest, depression and life in general

Six friends we all have.


I support you.

When was the last time someone stopped you, looked you in the eyes and I said, I support you? I’m willing to bet it has been a long while. It’s overdue and you need to know you are supported.

I also believe in you.

When was the last time you felt that someone truly believed in you? That they had your back without judgment or something to gain? Continue reading “Six friends we all have.”

Everyone has one more chance for love inside them

It is true, you may be scared and uneasy maybe even willing to self sabotage it once it arrives – but the ability to love someone new, a last ditch effort of maybe this could be the elusive one – is there inside everyone. But, why? Why not just completely rule out the possibility of love, why don’t our fears of rejection and heartbreak – keep our hearts locked down tight? And, what do we gain from loving again?

Read More at http://www.divorcedmoms.com/articles/why-im-not-afraid-to-love-again

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Why I’m not afraid to love again. DivorcedMoms.com