This Mess is Mine

Confession: A fear is that the car in front of me will put on their breaks and I'll run into them in the middle of a car wash." I posted this on Snapchat, along with a photo of my windshield completely covered in suds. The reply I received said, "100% impossible." I never said this was a rational fear... in fact, how often are our fears rational?  This irrational fear stems from the fact that I was in MANY fender benders in my early driving years. However, this hasn't crippled me from getting my car washed once every couple weeks, but I still think about it every single time I do it. There are many fears I have that haven't crippled me- yet. I love dogs, but I fear some, because I've been bitten a few times. I fear losing my job, because I've been the product of "restructuring" on more than one occasion. I fear escalators, this comes from when I was 8 yrs old seeing the insides of a little boys hand after it was about ripped off. I fear being divorced AGAIN, this comes from growing up around many failed marriages. I fear being too damaged, this comes from emotional abuse. I fear becoming too hard, which comes from being told I am too closed off not once but twice in the last few weeks. These are all factors of the mess that's mine. 

A sentence I'm tired of hearing is "whyyyyy are you single?!" Not only is this a rude comment, but its ignorant. It's akin to asking a married woman "whyyyyy haven't you had kids yet?" well, that's none of your damn business. Maybe she has a deep down in her gut desire to be a mom but it's not in the cards for her. Maybe she just doesn't want dirty, sticky hands everywhere and enjoys the freedom to travel as she pleases. Maybe she fears trying again because she's had two miscarriages before, and the heartache of losing another might just kill her. The point is, she doesn't have to tell you why.

When I'm told something like "you're so great, I just don't understand why you're single!" its slightly offensive. I'm aware that it's meant as a compliment, I really do, I know that's the heart behind it... but, I struggle to not respond with "that's a good question, did you have time to sit down and talk about how badly my heart desires a partner, but all I seem to come across are those who tell me that I'm 'so cute I make a baby deer look like a pile of shit?'  and why it is that my bar is set about 10,000ft due north of that kind of 'compliment? Or how I've been on a couple really really fantastic first dates, but not been pursued by any of them. Did you want to talk about that? Oh, I'm sorry have I made you uncomfortable in answering your question...?' 

I'm encouraging of everyone owning their stories, and I'm the first to publish my mess publically, obviously. But come sit on my patio and drink some coffee or a glass of wine and lets talk about desires of our hearts and our lives and the cards we've each been dealt. Please, please do. Don't just say this kind of comment on a whim, and please don't say it with such desperation in your voice, because instead of complimenting me what you're actually doing is confirming my fear that there MUST be something wrong with me for being single. When in fact there's nothing wrong with me. I'm willing to be open and vulnerable, but I'm certainly not desperate and won't force something to happen. I unapologetically wear my heart on my sleeve because I know the reward will be great and I have too much to lose to be anything but honest about the mess that's mine. Which means sometimes I’ll drive home drenched in tears after sharing parts of my heart with someone because I could see the bricks simultaneously stacking up around them with every word I spoke.


An M.O. of mine is to stumble across a song, fall in love with it and play the shit out of it until I'm utterly annoyed with it. Recently that has been a song called Mess Is Mine, by Vance Joy. There have been days at work that this is the only song I've listened to, on repeat, all day. Hours and hours and hours of playtime this song has received from just me alone. "This mess was yours, now your mess is mine...sorry for the mess. hey, I don't mind."  I have a few friends that have been a part of seeing this mess be created, they've seen me at my worst, then helped me find my feet. They know all my secrets, details of my stupid mistakes and things I will carry with my for the rest of my life. My friends that I can call and just say 'I need you to tell me nice things" or like Leslie Knope told her best friend, Ann, "I need you to text me every 30seconds and tell me everything is going to be okay" and they'll do it. They get it, but they've been a part of it all along the way.  These are my people, the ones who make me feel like my mess is theirs too, not just mine.

I'm messy, I get that. I have two children, very limited free time, some baby daddy drama, work-in-progress-credit, and a big ol' slew of scars on my heart. It’s a mess. My fear is that my mess is too large for someone new to come and claim, and this fear comes from having yet to see it happen.


Today is a day that I believe the fear that I am in fact a mess- and I am.  But some days I believe it more than others, sometimes people confirm it, and some days I burry myself under my mess. As I saw the bricks being stacked recently, I believed my mess was my identity. But it's not. I fear being closed off, because I've been told I am, and I fear being too open, because I know I can be. BUT, this mess IS mine, I do own it because I did my part in creating it. What I wont do, is continue to live in fear that this mess will always be only mine. 

Ugly Grace

Grace is not pretty. I feel like we hear the word ‘grace’ and we think of it written in pretty script with lots of loops and swoops in the lettering over an image of the beach and get a warm fuzzy feeling of this sweet term. But that’s not the grace I've always known. Grace is can be hard, ugly, often involves a person with a tear soaked, snot nosed, red face, with a stomach full of dying butterflies. That’s the grace I’ve experienced. It’s difficult and usually has to come from intention, without ease.

I’ve heard stories of people being persecuted for their ‘big’ sins within the church. The things that are considered the taboo and make people uncomfortable to even talk about like pre-marital sexual relationships, affairs, divorce, and some even just drinking… you know, normal life stuff that we have all been intertwined with at some point. I’ve had friends and seen people be shunned, and shamed, and treated as if they were nothing.

My divorce has been final for two years and I just experienced this for the first time and it fucking hurts.  I’ve been in a battle of my emotions and my hurt to not speak out and react, but rather breathing deep, staying centered and remembering the amount of grace I’ve accepted from my God. To accept shame from anyone at this point would be taking a step in the wrong direction, it would be the same as a prisoner that has been freed and released to a fresh new start, banging on the prison doors to be shackled again. 

I’ve read a lot on shame, I’ve written about shame and how no one has the ability to shame me more than myself. They’ve certainly tried, however my inner voice is loud and more cruel and honest than anyone else could attempt to be. But, grace. I’ve stepped out of the prison and am well on my way to the good life, arms and legs and heart unshackled and free to live. 

Here’s the thing, and I’m sad I feel like I have to say this, no one, not even you, has the authority or power to judge anyone’s life as sin.  When we attempt to shame someone for things they’ve ‘done’ we’re attempting to step into God’s role of judgment and delivering punishment. Like saying ‘hold on, God, I’ve got this one.’ But you, my co-human, are just not that powerful.  You don’t get to decide what my punishment should be and by attempting to you’re not teaching me anything about God and you’re not acting like the Christ you say you follow...you're just being an asshole. 

MY God, is loving, and kind, and his heart is BREAKING for things I’ve endured and decisions I’ve made.  My God, even in my ‘sin’, adores me and sits beside me, and invites me to sit at the table and break bread with Him. He’s seen my red faced, snot nosed, tear soaked face, and has taken the time to know why the butterflies are dying in my stomach.  He’s taken the time to know my heart, yet still calls me His favorite. Most importantly my relationship with the Lord is mine, it is deep, and intimate, and does not need to be explained. 

Hear me friends, I’m by no means saying there isn’t consequence to our choices. There is absolutely a cause and effect to all of the decisions we make, good and bad. Believe me two years out and I’m still feeling the ache and ripple effect of my divorce…but, there isn’t an ounce of regret and I truly don’t believe God is punishing me for it.

So now that I’ve been delivered a man made punishment for my divorce I will feel the hurt and process those emotions, but I will deliver grace in return. I will act in love, not out of spite but because I have felt the depth of what grace actually is and to not extend it would be the hypocritical churchy thing to do, and I’m determined to attempt to be like the Christ I say I follow. I have a natural conviction to believe that people are doing they best they can, but I also believe we all have a lot to learn. I cannot deliver punishment to my co-humans no more than I can accept shame from my co-humans, and I’ll never return to that prison again, my God told me so.

My Story, My blog-Smiling's my Favorite

I moved to San Antonio when I was in 4th grade. Many of these friendships I still have today and thankfully we never moved too far so I was able to grow up with many of them and collect more great friendships over the years. Thanks to social media I've been able to cheer them on in all their endeavors over the years. I've seen some of them be married, some divorced and so many babies born. One starting and thriving in her own business as a lady boss, one working for NASA and one opened a school in Africa for special needs children. Some chasing HUGE dreams, traveling the world, a professional fighter and an exotic dancer. So many serving our country, pastoring churches, becoming incredible musicians, the list goes on and on. I've read a lot about creating a great life story and what is your purpose in life and what kind of effect are you leaving in the world, but I think there's more than that. As incredible as all of these things are my friends have accomplished and dreams they're chasing, there is still so much more to each of them and still so much division between people. We all have stories of heartache and triumph, family ache, religion ache, physical and emotional ache. I feel like if we were all more honest about these aches, we will learn to be more compassionate with each other, and realize were all a lot more alike than we think.

Its no secret that I'm in the online dating world. It's terrible and hilarious and exhausting-but it is what it is. I have to have to give my story over and over, a quick synopsis- grew up in San Antonio, was married about fiveish years, divorced now 2. I have two babes and they're with me majority of the time. I have a great job, I'm very close with my friends and my family. I like to run, read and write although I don't give myself enough time for any of them. I like getting out when I can but home life is my jam." I basically say different versions of this same paragraph over and over. Those are the basics, but THERES SO MUCH MORE. We all have so much to our stories, the question is how much to we tell, when, and what parts do we keep to ourselves and which parts have we never told a soul? This surface level stuff doesn't make me vulnerable, sharing these details aren't scary. The people I connect with better and tend to end up talking with longer, eventually meeting are the ones that I get vulnerable with.  The ones that ask about my kids and their personalities or they ask about my marriage, my family, my dreams and goals. That's when a connection starts to occur, when I allow them into my life, I give them a peak at some of the more tender parts of my heart rather than just 'how's the week going?"...or other ridiculous and inappropriate things they've said...that's a whole other post that's in the works.

There is so much power in telling your story. It breaks walls between people, it breaks walls within ourselves. Freedom occurs as we share our hearts cries. Each word we speak it's another blow to the concrete wall we've barricaded behind until eventually there's nothing but dust in the air and as it settles we get to experience so much more, all the things that were on the other side of the wall that we weren't able to see with it in tact-usually its love.

The most common response in my previous writing is how vulnerable I am, how much I expose myself, and I've received an insane amount of feedback that it's encouraging to others that I bare my nakedness so freely. I just don't feel like I have an option. When I write it's to tell my story, its in attempt to not allow my past to control me, to not keep my life a secret. I want more than anything to be in relationship with people, but I can't do that if I keep myself behind walls. I have to accept my past in order to step into the future. Donald Miller wrote "sometimes our identities get distorted because people lie about us and scare us, and sometimes our identities get distorted because of things we've actually done. The result is the same, though. Isolation." And I refuse to stay in isolation. Yes, I'm an introvert, but total solitude and lack of relationships is something total different. I believe we're created to be in relationship with each other which comes with the risk of being turned away, judged, labled and discarded. It also comes with a lot of love, relief to some that they aren't alone, and deep relationships with real people who get it or are challenged with a new way of thinking if they haven't walked in these worn down shoes that I have.

Brenè Brown is a genius when it comes to vulnerability and she said "I believe that vulnerability-the willingness to show up and be seen with no guarantee of outcome-is the only path to more love, belonging, and joy....the downside? You're going to stumble, fall and get your ass kicked."

When I was first coming back to life, and really trying to figure out who I was and take control of things of my past I wrote "It's Time."  Sharing that was a wrecking ball to the Trump sized walls I'd built around my heart, sure to keep everyone out at a safe distance, ensuring no one knew shameful details and damage that had been done over the years prior. After I clicked 'publish' I felt completely naked and terrified as those walls were destroyed (queue Miley cirus.) The result? The boy I'd gone on a few dates with said he didn't feel we could see each other anymore. This was when I knew I was on the right track. He was kind and hilarious and probably the best first date I've ever been on to this day, but he couldn't see past my past and removed himself from any future. I'd love to say I wasn't phased and was onto the next but it did come with the feelings of being too damaged, shamed, and 'will anyone want to be with me?"

But then I realized the fact that this is me. I cant be anything less, I cannot change my past, and I cannot pretend that these things didn't happen. There's that scene from The Notebook when Allie shows up and Noah's house with her suitcases(baggage), lookin' a hot mess from all the tears and heartache and he sees her from the window and she just shrugs her shoulders, like "welp, here I am. I know I've made bad, hard choices, but here I am, choosing love."

This is a reintroduction to my blog. I'm not going to remove any of my previous posts because all of it, especially my writing the last 2 years, is part of my story(baggage) that's brought me to this point.

So this is my blog, Smiling is My Favorite. I promise to be nothing but honest and open. I promise to never be malicious, but I promise to be true and own my story. I can guarantee I'll be wrong sometimes and I promise to change my mind sometimes. I promise to be vulnerable, and I will support anyone who wants to take baby steps into owning their story-whatever that needs to look like to them. I promise not to judge. I promise to listen when needed and give feedback when asked. Lets start a bigger, real, honest, conversation in telling our stories. I'll start.

Living in Lala Land (a not so love story)

Tonight I experienced the movie LaLa Land. I had a smile on my face almost the entire movie. It’s an experience like no other. It's magic. It's perfect. I said goodnight to my friend, and I got in my car still on a high from all that LaLa Land was and dreaming of when I could see it again. I turned on Johnnyswim, my latest music obsession, and was homeward bound. As I was about to turn onto DeZavala Rd just a 1/2 mile from my home, my cheeks were drenched in tears before I even realized I was weeping.

I was so happy seconds ago, but my heart aches. I struggle to quiet the lies that have been spoken into my life as truth, declaring to me that I'm a failure, that I'm not smart enough, that I'm lazy, that I lack a backbone, and that I'll end up alone.

I've been reminded many times this week that I'm in a different season of life than those I'm surrounded by. I have a permanent weekly Skype date with my two best friends. One is married with two beautiful babies, and one is married and fighting a hard fight for children of her own. Another best friend recently married a wonderful man who loves her and her, now their, two boys and are in the process of buying a home together. Other dear friends of mine very much deserve and were hired into a job I desperately wanted for myself. I'm SO, deep down in my heart, over the moon for my friends and the amazing lives they've found themselves to be in. Yet, my heart aches, and I hear the false truths mocking me again, quietly announcing to me that I'm a failure, not smart enough, too lazy, and very much without a partner.

I know I am loved. The Lord has gently, and at times abruptly, placed people in my life along the way to reveal to me how much I am loved and cherished. My life is so good right now. I have a wonderful job, my kids are healthy, their dad and I are on good terms, I'm surrounded by great people, and I've created a wonderful home for my little family. We're doing good! But, I am being transparent that in ALL the overwhelming joy I have in my life, in all my celebrations, wonderful times, perfect-to-me  friends, and life I've created- my heart still aches for more. My life is far from perfect, and I certainly am not trying to live a façade that it is. This life is HARD. I take much pride in the life I've created, but it's definitely easy to fall into lala land and what if I had done things differently.  This isn't ever how I dreamed my life would look.

In my previous life I would often be asked, "What would you do if I wasn't here? What would you be doing? How would Rhonda make decisions if I didn't exist?" and my answer was, "I've lived my life in a way so that I didn't have to make these decisions or carry the weight of it all on my own."  I married the first man I loved, the first man I slept with. I tried to do things the right way. Yet, here I am, weeping on my computer, without my children in the next room, while I make people uncomfortable reading my diary and my battle stories of emotional abuse.

I'm a survivor. I am happy. Yet my heart aches and I hear the words again:

“...you're scared, that's okay with me.' You're a failure. Your marriage failed. You're failing at work. You can't afford a vacation. You will never afford a house. You didn't get that job. You don't have a degree. You're not smart enough. You're lazy. You're a liar. Look at the weight you've gained. Look at what a mess your house is. You're a terrible cook. You'll certainly never finish school because you're so lazy. You don't have a backbone. Those guys at work have backbones. They got the job you wanted-as if you had any chance of that against them. You are alone. You want to be chased? lol I don't see anyone around. You're hard. You're damaged. You're too difficult. You're too dramatic. Way too revealing about your life. ‘it will hold strong. You cannot escape the truth’ You have no time. You're frumpy and awkward and boring. No wonder there are so many first dates and so few seconds and definitely no thirds. ‘With your bitterness, hatred, non conformance, pride and small mindedness haha, so glad I'm not with that for the rest of my life! Good lord, you're a special breed of crazy.”

The enemy uses these phrases to keep me in the darkness, to ensure dominance over my life. The enemy dances these words around me, disguising them as truth with tap shoes on that rat, tat, tat on my heart relentlessly on and on, leaving me defeated and weak. This is the lala land that emotional abuse has abandon me in.

 

"Don't you think I hear the whispers

those subtle lies, those angry pleas

They're just demons, demons

Wishing they were free like me."

 

The truth is I am enough. I know I deserve greatness. I've started an incredible career for myself and am the sole provider for my children, and we’re MAKING IT. The truth is I have a linen closet full of extra blankets, and we have clothes all over the damn place. We have a messy home because we have a home that we live and play in and are abundantly blessed to have filled. The truth is I'm kicking ass and the lies that were declared to me are in fact false. I'll continue to battle them with truth, I'll continue to learn, and fail, and cry and address the invisible scars I've collected like stamps in a passport as I’ve traveled back and forth to lala land. I'll continue to dance to the music of the truth that I am free and I am oh, so worthy of love.

My Factiest Fact

Some facts about me: I have 3 tattoos, and no, the one on my arm isn't finished. I know how to drive a standard. I have hazel eyes. I have two children. I hate being cold. I love Chinese food, dad jokes, and riding on the shopping cart. I have an addiction to my phone, but I also hate it. I’ve battled psoriasis since I was in 6^th grade. I really hate mushrooms and olives. I want to like whiskey, but I don't yet. I love to laugh more than anything in the world. I love Jesus, but I cuss a little(lot). I hate being alone. My biggest desire is to be married. My second biggest desire is to never ever EVER be divorced again. My biggest struggle is silencing the fear that it's inevitable.

I'm good at relationships. Donald Miller taught me this, and my Jessie-friend reminds me of it oh so often. Honestly, I think I'm damn good at relationships. I cherish my friends and my family, and if I'm dating someone, they can be confident in where I stand. I don’t play games.  I'm pretty self-aware of my faults or when I'm acting irrational and can ask for grace as I'm working something out in my head and in my heart. If I’m offended or hurt, I've learned to talk about it and squash it and move on even though its not natural for me. I understand about myself that I get grumpy when I'm tired and have no problem nudging (pushing, hitting, smothering) to stop snoring around me. I've learned to just say what I need like when I need to be loved a little louder, none of us are mind readers after all. I’ve learned I need space and time to myself. I don't do the silent treatment. I'm not clingy. I believe in a partnership. I know that words are relentlessly powerful to me, second only to silence. I've made huge, shameful, embarrassing, awful relationship mistakes, but they've not occurred without a high price and gain of wisdom. I know the ease of an emotional attachment and how its hooks are deep long before you have any idea you’re in it. I've learned to keep sturdy, high, and healthy boundaries. I've learned when it's time to say goodbye in dating- although I tend to keep trying and fighting.

I think I try and give so many chances and opportunities for change because I'm so determined to prove to myself, to my past, and to onlookers that I CAN put in the work. That I can compromise. That I do love well and hard, and I don't give up easily. I left my husband after 5 1/2 years - and contrary to what many believe- I did NOT make that decision lightly. It had been years of turmoil and hurt and struggle and lies- on both sides, I'm far from innocent. We did counseling, separation, feast & famine, had children, moved away, faced catastrophe...you name it. We were broken, and I stopped living. I did the thing we vowed wasn't an option-I left.

I read an article once about a couple who was in a season- you married folks understand- a really fucking hard season (I don't care how happy y'all are today, you've been in a really fucking hard season and, if you haven't, I’m sorry to say you will.) This couple went to a Christian counselor who basically asked them if divorce was an option. That hit them hard because they weren't anywhere near that point and always agreed it wasn't. But one of them got really, really, REALLY brave and said, "Well, yeah, I guess it could be," and the counselor said, "Good! Now we have some work to do."

Before you get huffy, LISTEN.

If divorce isn't an option, then there's nothing to work towards. You trust that no matter how horribly you treat each other, or how many women you sleep with, or men that become your confidants they will stay. No matter how much you drink or lie or speak with razors, whatever your poison may be-it's okay. You both are choosing to exist in misery because you have literally nothing to lose. HOWEVER, if you can get really, deep down in your bones, honest with yourself and your partner- divorce is always an option. Once you realize that, you have something to work for.  You have something to fight for more ferocious than Gerard Butler in 300 (hubba, hubba, am I right?) It’s worth the fight. Grit your teeth and snarl and claw through anything to choose your partner, on purpose, every single day as long as you both shall live.

We didn't do that. "Divorce wasn't an option" and I was reminded of this everytime I attempted to stand my ground. Those words held me pinned against the wall like a knife against my neck. So I didn't move, I stopped living. I lived in fear as those words pushed in closer, sharper, I hung my head in defeat. I stopped talking to my family. It was easier to not have friends. I battled less, I learned its safer to not argue. I learned my voice was just white noise.
"Divorce is not an option" and I stopped living.

But the reality is, divorce is always an option. The reality is Jesus cared about me more my marriage, and his love is bigger than my divorce. I chose to live.

Here's the fear I try my hardest to overcome- I can do everything right, and they can still leave. At any moment, they can stop choosing me. They can soften that wall for a female friend who was going through a tough time. They can chose a night out with the guys a little more and more and often. They can choose work or beer or power over you. They can make the decision, for no apparent reason, that "I just don't want to be married anymore."
And then what, I start all over again?

This is my fear, yet, I chose to love.

I choose to risk my heart. I choose to seek it out. I choose to tell my heavenly Father the desires of my heart. I choose to go to the well, because I believe that we're all human and I believe in grace and forgiveness. I believe that good and honorable men exist. I believe that it's worth the fight. I believe that I'm worthy of love and for someone to choose me again and again and again every single day. I believe in marriage and that a healthy partnership can exist.

I HAVE to believe it-it’s the factiest fact of all the facts about me-I believe in love and that it can coexist with life.

A love letter to 2016

Dearest 2016,

 I was nervous when you showed up, and I wasn't sure if we'd be friends. I didn't know if you would be on my side or betray me like so many before. You've been quite a ride, not too scary and didn't need Dramamine, but a fun and exciting experience. Overall I'm thankful for you, let me count the ways....

In January I was let go of a job I believed in. I knew it was coming, or had a feeling for a while, but still when it came I was terrified. Two days later, I was offered the opportunity to return to a previous role in a higher position with a more than acceptable pay increase. I fell up, to say the least. I returned to the company I whole heartedly believe in, with incredible and honorable leadership and hands down the best coworkers I could ask for. This job has not come without a lot of work, but it's work I love. It makes me laugh, brings me joy, challenges me, stretches me, and I feel a valued part of the team. 

I ended a relationship with a kind man who taught me an incredible amount about myself and being loved and accepting help. I was blessed to spend time with an unexpected old/new friend. He's a kind-hearted, generous, confusing but gentle giant. He was an adventure and he too taught me much, but above all, that I deserve to be pursued and cherished. I've learned that I'm not too hard to love. That I have the ability to fight for what I want, compromise, and put in the work when the time comes for me to love again. I so want to love again.

I've once again, through this year, been reminded of how abundantly blessed I am when it comes to the people I'm surrounded by.  Whether it's my incredible family - aunts, uncles, cousins and everyone in between - I'm so happy to also call them my friends. There are so many actual friends that feel a whole lot more like family:  those I see every day that hear my laughing and crying and terrible singing through my cubical walls. My dearest most favorite friends who walk with me through all the valley's, relentlessly hear my hearts cry, my biggest celebrations, my foul mouth and (self-proclaimed) hilarious things I say. There are those I've been able to link arms:  my mom friends, my divorced friends, my work friends, my prayer warriors- we'll all get through this together.  My incredible guys and their beyond wonderful wives, as we tell alllll the funny stories of years past and who make me laugh until I run out of happy tears, and my belly aches in the best way. They have a way of making me feel more loved and protected than anyone else. Or my favorite friend that's been around for about 14 years, who half the time I want to kill and the other half I want to love, but who I cherish and would be lost without- so, fire away. I'm not certain what I've done or why God's surrounded me with this perfect-to-me group of people, but I know there would be no 'me' without them.

2016, you gave me the chance to spend more time with my little sister than I ever have in my life. I was honored to cheer her on in huge milestones and am in awe of her bravery and resilience. I got to swim in Medina Lake for the first time in about 8 years and share that experience with my children. I celebrated my best friends nuptials with her kinder than kind husband and danced the night away. My sweet heart, goofy brother made me an aunt to my first blood nephew. I battled depression and anxiety. I'm BROKE. I'm tired. I reunited with friends and family lost in divorce. I learned about self-love and seeing my worth.  I've fallen in love with podcasts, iced coffee, Jazz, TX, and my kids again and again and again.

These last few years haven't been kind, but 2016, other than our presidential election shit-storm, a few heartaches and some hail damage, you've been alright. I'm thankful for you, and I'm not sure I'd change a dang thing. Life is good, and my heart is so happy.

Big Love,

Rhonda

This was a new first…

***This is different than my previous posts, however, making myself just as vulnerable and possibly giving too much information… I learned something at 30yrs old and wanted to share this experience. I’m hoping I can paint this picture well. Praying for the words to portray this incredibly simple event and completely at the risk of you finishing reading and thinking “Well, thanks Rhonda, can’t get that time back. Talk to your girlfriends about this shit,” ... but, here goes. I’m not here to go on and on about dates and experiences and the INSANITY that is online/app dating… although I could, maybe I will in another post. But, I did recently have an incredible first experience, that seems like it should be rudimentary, and I’m trying to think and feel my way through why it was so significant to me.***

I’m in this brand new season of life, one that is full of firsts and unmarked territory for my little tribe.  I was at one point, the person who was told “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”  As that circle of friends paired up rode off happily ever after into the sunset, a new circle of friends developed just shortly before I met my, now, ex-husband.  Then I was the first of us to ride off happily ever after into the sunset…until I wasn’t. Then I was the first push through a separation. I was the first to have babies. I was the first to be divorced. And now, I’m the first to go on first dates again.

Dating is so fun yet the most dreadful thing all at the same time.
I was recently reunited with a high school acquaintance.  I don’t know that we’d ever shared words in the 4 yrs we spent wondering the same halls so many years ago, Go Rams.  We never had a class together and, until recently, I couldn’t have even told you what he was involved in. I remember I always thought he was incredibly handsome, but that’s about all I remember. Our circle of friends just never crossed.

Now, if you’re able to enter into a judgment free zone with me for a hot second then do so, if you’re unable, then go ahead and press that little X at the top of your screen. I’ll give you a minute… Ok, for those still with me, we matched on Tinder (I know, I know). Both of us had resigned, just days before, to just try it out and both had basically the same thought process as we came across a familiar face with 50+ common Facebook friends -including each other- and decided to swipe right. It’s a match!

We exchanged texts for a few days and planned to see each other on a Friday night, however, some plans changed and my Thursday evening was free, so we got together for drinks, a pre-date, if you will.  I’m giving this much detail about our history and location, because, well its fun, and this is where the simple, incredible-to-me, experience occurred.

We met at a trendy bar he frequented.  Our pre-date went great! He’s clearly a very well liked man, loved even, as he was being greeted left and right. We were submerged in his community, his friends, his ‘cheers bar’ as he calls it. We caught up on the last 13 yrs and just enjoyed each other’s company.

So, Friday night. Date night. We walked to dinner, hand in hand for a few blocks, he always made sure he was closest to the street. We met another couple for dinner, and then walked to get drinks after. I was lovingly teased for ‘talking way too much,’ as I was happily laughing at all their stories but naturally took a backseat to the dominant personalities around me. We went to a couple bars but eventually returned to the one we started at on our pre-date the night before.  As he ran into people he knew throughout the night, again and again people seemed filled with joy as they greeted him. However, this time was slightly/immensely different. He kept his hand on my back or a hand in mine and almost seemed to rush through his own hello so he could get to the part where he could introduce me. Every. Single. Time. He’d confidently introduce me to each person that greeted him. With a hand on my back, aware, I assume, that this could be overwhelming to the quiet girl that’s been taking a backseat to the dominant personalities around her. I felt safe, cherished, and a prize- not in a cheap or materialistic way, but I was in a room full of his community, his friends, his tribe, all vying for his attention, yet I felt like he just wanted them to know me. 

As I try to paint this picture, I know how simple it sounds, how it’s hard to see any significance here.  This isn’t a bash on anyone from my past, present, or future. It was just a moment, where I felt like the only person in the room, where it didn’t feel forced or awkward. A moment where I didn’t feel like I was messing up street cred, or cramping his style, or an ‘oh yeah, and this is Rhonda,” moment.  This was a new first for me…A simple, normal, social interaction that in my 30yrs I had never experienced.

Now, I don’t know if there will be a happily ever after with the incredibly handsome boy I once kind of knew, but I do know that as I’m in this new season of firsts, for the first time, maybe ever, I felt like I was picked first.  And for the first time, this is a requirement of all my future firsts.

Single Parenting. Co-Parenting. Just, Parenting.

Single Parenting. Co-Parenting. Just, parenting. 

This is not for the weak. I'm exhausted. Raising children was not created to be done alone.  I want to tap out sometimes, I want some back up. I want to be the good cop sometimes. I don't want to follow through. I don't want to make dinner and then argue with her about eating it, or not eating it, or eating something else i.e. turkey sandwich that you seem to never tire of, and then deconstruct every. single. time. I also want to share in their successes and really really funny things they often spout off.

This was meant to be a team effort, and by that I do not mean a few days here and a few days there. There are days, ya'll, that I don't see an end in sight. When will the fits stop? When will she stay in bed after only getting up 5 times? Why is the bedtime battle over an hour long some nights? When will he stop throwing his food on the ground? When will he not HATE getting his teeth brushed? When will I stop breaking a sweat trying to get him dressed?  When are they old enough to teach grace instead of the constant follow through? 

Some days ya'll, some days I cannot wait for the break that they spend with their dad, I enjoy my weekend and play catch up and relax and rejuvenate as much as I can, and by Sunday I'm pumped and ready for them to come home. And then some days... Some days I've only been away from them a few hours and I feel like I'm walking through the day in a haze, like something from within my being is missing. All is not right in the world and something unnatural is occurring and I'm reminded again that our family looks different than families were created to look. 

My babies have an incredible love from their mother AND their father that they only experience one at a time.  I can't help but be concerned about how they will view love and relationships with another when that time comes for them.  I pray for them every day that the Lord provides in them a love and commitment beyond what they understand or have experienced.  

I pray that the Lord bless their dad with a God fearing woman who will love my children fiercely and intentionally, who will discipline them in love and grace. Someone who will speak life into them and who will thoroughly enjoy these children for who they are.  Who will constantly encourage them to be silly and exactly who they were created to be.  Someone who will hold them to a high standard of being good and honorable humans.  I pray that my babies enjoy who she is and sitting with her at a table and chatting about the day.  That they confide in her, trust her and love her. I pray that their father is genuinely happy and finds a partner that he can create a strong healthy relationship with that proves to be a positive example to our children.

Of course I pray for all of these things for myself, but I have control over myself and who I allow in my life. I know the standard I have for myself and trust that the Lord has a great plan for me.

My hearts cry is also that eventually, as time moves, wounds are healed and respect is grown they can see their father and I enjoy life simultaneously in their presence. That they see a healthy relationship between their mom and dad - their two constants.  Although separate, our love for you both will never fade or take second place to any other person or thing.

Because of our family dynamic, and what their family portrait looks like, all I can do is continue to teach them to be good humans as well as I'm able.  Teach them to be kind to others, patient, at least TRY new foods, and that the Spurs are the best team ever.  I can make sure they know how to two step and that they understand that creamy peanut butter is the only acceptable kind.  I can love them with my whole being and remind them that as I disciple and continue to follow through that it's BECAUSE I love them. I can be humble and apologize as I make mistakes again and again.

We have days ya'll, that I just don't know that I'm good at this at all. My house is a disaster, she's sighing heavily at her brother for not listening to her, and he is yelling "no ma'am!" at me...both responses they have learned from yours truly.  Some days I realize I haven't just sat and played or laughed with them longer than that laundry has been on the couch.  Some days I decide my failures on how much I have in the bank, or the fact that I haven't even been able to get a hair cut in at least 9 months.  I have dishes in the sink, un-made beds and un-decorated bedrooms and things growing in Tupperware in the fridge (I threw that away.)

Yet, she still looks at me with heart eyes and calls me 'best friend.' He still grins with one thumb in his mouth and the other combing his hair, like I did as a child, and says 'lalalalala you."

Lalalalove you too, babes. always always.

It's Time

Deep breath. It's time.

It's time to take ownership of who I was. It's time for me to put a name to things in my past so I can stop living in fear of repeating them or fear of them being thrown at me so I continue to feel shame.

The enemy wants me to stop living, yes physically he is out to seek, kill, and destroy... but emotionally too. He wants me to live in the darkness with him. He wants to continue to whisper my failures and faults in my ear like deadly sweet nothings.  He wants me to be so scared of my future that I stop creating one and stay inside the walls I've built up.

But, I refuse.  I refuse to get depressed. I refuse to live in the darkness. I refuse to let my past self keep me from becoming who I was created to be.

I feel in order to take control of my life now I need to take control of my past, and that means owning up to who I was. Not excusing them as sin for sin or pointing blame to other circumstances.  Not being passive about my mistakes or minimizing them, but putting a name to them.  This takes away the power the enemy thinks he has over me to live in fear and shame.

So, its time. I've not been a great person. I've tried really hard and then sometimes not so much- but I've failed over and over. I've lied. I've cheated, had inappropriate relationships. I abandoned my marriage. Lived in offence. I've not been a good friend.  And the list goes on... I'm sure some of you can add to it.

But its time to believe this truth deep in my bones.

 I am not the mistakes I have made. These things are not my name. These things are not my identity. And to most of you, they really haven't been my identity. I've been able to keep them covered well enough, but I've carried them as my own identity.  And these are the heaviest name tags.  

I'm taking them off. I'm not these things anymore. This is who I was, not who I am. No one can shame me more than I have myself, and I'm done with self-shaming. 

It's time. It's time to step into who God created me to be. I wasn't created to live in seclusion, crippled by fear. By living in my shame and staying in the darkness is me saying I don't believe in what Christ did on the cross...Or even worse believing it but choosing not to see it.  Isn't that worse?  When we know the deed someone did for us and not acknowledge it?  How rude... but this is on an eternal level, not just someone buying us dinner without saying 'thanks.'

It's time to accept that incredible gift and choose life. Choose to live and to step out of the darkness. Choose joy. Choose to drop these heavy name tags I've been wearing. I don't really know all that God has created me to be or what His plans are for me, but I know it's not what I have been.  

Now, I'm just stuck with the ol' "Rhonda" name tag... I know it's not much better. but I'll wear it proudly over the alternative. 

**Some say I'm painfully honest in my posts. Sorry, not sorry.  I pray and mill over each post and I believe in transparency to show all the Christ has done.  I would rather be brutally honest and make some people uncomfortable in their chair by my honesty than be surface and appear as a fraud.  Life is hard and Christ is amazing and there is no other way to show it than putting all your shit on the table. Yes, I said Christ and shit in the same sentence. Now, go be kind to someone who doesn't deserve it.**

For those not 'in it'

There are some quotes, scriptures, passages, sayings and songs that you just don't understand fully until you're in it such as, "Divorce is a funeral no one attends."

No one knows how to reply. No one knows how to respond. Even those those who have been through it-theres just not much people can do. It's such a range of emotions and theres no where to go but through it and keep going. Even if you're the one initiating the motion, there's still so much to mourn and so much heartache.

I'm in it. I was 1 whole person, and then became a totally new person as I was joined with another 1 whole person, and now we're apart and I am half a person. I know that math doesn't really add up, but it's truth. That's why divorce is so hard. Two people become one flesh and when that's torn apart - no matter the reasoning, hurts you both have or have caused - it's painful and it sucks.

All will be fine;  I'll just be bee-boppin' along, drinking my morning coffee, jammin' to the new Taylor Swift, going through the day the day, the new norm's and BAM it hits. This gut wrenching ache and pain you didn't even know was humanly possible to survive. This overwhelming sadness, heartache, loss and fear.

I'm in it. I'm trying to figure out how to survive being just half a person.

I've not yet had to handle the death of someone in my immediate world, friends siblings, accuantainces, teachers, grandparents in other states, greats, and step family, but no one too close...yet. And I cannot imagine the pain and difficulty of trying to wrap my brain and heart around the fact that someone is just not here anymore.

In death everyone typically finds out about the loss within a couple days. Everyone pretty much knows exactly what happend. We have a funeral as closure. We send flowers. Cook food. A Shiva call in the Jewish culture. Everyone comes together to mourn that loss, or at least begin that process together... although I'm sure it's a much longer journey thereafter. But those feelings are obvious and its just known that you're hurting and feeling loss.

Life around you keeps existing and it doesn't make sense how it does but it does. People go to work; they are in traffic, in lines at HEB, tweeting away. Life around keeps existing.

Divorce is different.

There's no ceremony.
There's no Shiva Call.
Nothing.

Everyone doesn't find out about a divorce at the same time-and if they do they are being nosey and gossiping, and "shame on them," right? It's amazing how many people you havent talked to in years "just wanted to say 'hey" after you change your name on Facebook. Right.

People rarely know the real reasons for what is happening. Often they feel they have to choose a side, or just do naturally without realizing it (please know in our situation, you dont need to pick a side... actually please dont pick a side.) There are a lot of assumptions and tip toeing around and hush hush, and checking the ring finger until just everyone just figures it out and stops asking...or honestly, I dont know... I'm still waiting to see what happens.

But still, life around you keeps existing people still go to work; they are in traffic, in lines at HEB, tweeting away. Life around keeps existing.

No one in the halls of this enormous work place knows the heartache I'm feeling.
No one knows that I have $7 in my bank account and a bill going through tomorrow.
No one knows that I'm not being shy or rude, I just know if I open my mouth and say anything at this moment the tears will fall and then my face will be red for the next 2 hours. Although I must say, I've become an almost-expert at crying at my desk without those around me knowing. (ie. now as I write this blog.)
No one understands why I don't want to hear your advice or your opinions.
No one understands why I will still stand up and defend the person that I'm no longer one with.
No one understands that I don't always need your encouragement, just empathy. Not sympathy.
No one understands that I just don't want to be around people today.
No one understands that tomorrow I just really really really need to be surrounded by people and laugh and laugh...and then half way through that time might need to sneak away because its too much.
No one understands how many individual and seperate things and people I'm currently mourning.
No one understands that I. just. need. a hug.

Don't think that I'm just depressed, hum drum, broken and sad all the time. It's day to day. And sometimes minute to minute. Jesus restores the brokenhearted and I know that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord.

Honestly, I dont have a great solid take away from today's post.

I do have many hugs for those that are in it and those will go though it.
I have open ears when needed.
I have no advice, other than just keep getting up, keep going.
I have a kitchen that I can cook you dinner (but I must warn you I'm an awful cook.)
I have sappy movies and a love for ice cream.
I have a Savior that is crying right beside you too.
I have silence because that's often needed.. as well as good playlists on Pandora.

Keep going. And try not to be so nosey, y'all.





I did come across this article that was extremely encouraging to me, and if you're in this place I encourage you to read it as well.

PSALM 30.11