I'd like to start this post by saying thank you. Throughout the past week, I have received an overwhelming number of comments, e-mails, texts, snap chats, and kind words regarding my last post. Out of all of my blog posts to date, "Beautiful" has been the hardest to write. Not only did I struggle to decide what I wanted to say, but I also struggled with figuring out how I would put it all together in a way that would make sense. There was even a point in my writing when I considered completely shutting down this blog.
As a college student, I don’t always have the time to sit down and write. My days are filled with classes, studying, and different activities which make running a blog tough. I am one person in charge of writing & editing content, deciding on what content to publish & when along with every other detail you see on this site. At times I enlist help from friends, but a majority of the time, it’s just me. I’m a one woman show with God as my foundation. I started this blog under a different name on January 1st of this year. It wasn’t just some New Year’s resolution; in fact, it wasn't a resolution at all. I started writing for the world to see as a way to record my life and share my story. At the time, though, I would have never expected my story to look like it does now. A lot has happened in the past ten months, and I often wonder why, but I stand firm in my belief that God will use my story for good. In fact, He already has. Not only do I write, but I have been blessed with the incredible opportunity to share my story with friends, old and new, and minister to them in a way that I never could before. Nearly a month ago my college held an event called Take Back the Night in which I, along with other survivors of domestic and/or sexual violence, were fortunate enough to share our stories with roughly 450 people. I believe I can speak for all of us when I say that we don’t share our stories for pity or attention, but to raise awareness for a cause that has affected and touched us down to the very depths of our souls. There are things in life we can never control, but we can control how we respond to them. I’ve used this blog as a new way to cope and heal. When things become hard, it’s easy to forget the progress I’ve made and desire to turn back to my old destructive ways. However, I have worked too hard to go back now. I have my whole life ahead of me and will not allow my story hold me back. Each day, I am beyond grateful for this amazing platform that provides me with the opportunity to share my heart. I pray that in every post you will be inspired and moved. I desire to shine like a light for Christ and show others his incredible love. However, without my reader's none of this would be possible. So thank you again for all of your support. Your kind words mean the world to me and it is because of all of you that I keep writing. Thank you. Much Love, Bri
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If only I were taller, then I’d be beautiful.
If only I were thinner, then I’d be beautiful. If only I could do my makeup as well as her, then I’d be beautiful. If only I had hair like hers, then I’d be beautiful. If only my nose weren't so big, then I’d be beautiful. If only my hips weren’t so wide, then I’d be beautiful. If only my belly weren't so round, then I’d be beautiful. If only I didn’t look sad all the time, then I’d be beautiful. If only I was beautiful. For many people, the words above are all too familiar. I am no different. All too often I’ve become caught up in the lies of the world that tell me I must change to be beautiful. I’ve stood in front of the mirror and told myself horrible things with tears in my eyes. I’ve mentally beat myself up until I could no longer take it. I’d cope by going to the gym and pushing my body past its limit. Then I’d go home and eat next to nothing. I’d go to school then do another workout at night. My morning workouts consisted of lots of cardio, mainly running which I hate. At night, I would lift weights, a workout I truly enjoyed. However, I soon became obsessive. I’d make myself lose weight no matter what it took. Every time someone complimented me on how I looked, it only encouraged my behavior. I dedicated my time and energy into being beautiful, but I failed. In place of beauty, I obtained misery, and it fricking sucked. I was constantly tired and irritable. Anytime someone would ask me if I was doing okay, I would tell them not to worry about me, I was fine. My junior year of high school I was sleeping for only a few hours a night. Then I would get up at 4:15 a.m. to be to the gym by 5 o’clock. I’d workout then go home to shower before spending my days in class. After school, I was back at the gym by 5:15 to meet a friend for a weight lifting class. My meals consisted of eggs, spinach, and fruit. It was working, my waist was shrinking all the while my irritability was growing. I remember one night in particular in which I looked at my best friend and directly lied to her face. We had just gone to supper with a large group of people and were back at her house. Our friendship was on the line, and we were trying to talk it out. Then out of the blue, she asked me if I was eating enough. I told her not to worry that I was eating plenty of food and was fine. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. I was far from it, but because I wanted to be beautiful, I lied. This past April, fourteen months after that conversation, I asked her along with one other friend to go out to lunch. I was scared but knew I needed help. Finally, they asked me what was going on, and I told them the story. I told them how for the past four years I had constantly been harming myself in an effort to be smaller and beautiful. They listened and supported me, and asked me to please be open to professional help. Eventually, I was. Two months ago, I moved away from home. A few days before I left I looked up at one of my senior pictures on the wall. My immediate reaction was, “Why I can’t I be like the girl in the picture? She’s happy and constantly smiling.” However, a few seconds passed, and my thoughts changed to, “I don’t ever want to be that girl again.” The girl in the picture was struggling, she was in desperate need of help but was too scared to speak up. She found her worth in the number on the scale and the size of her jeans. That girl hid under layers of makeup and baggy sweaters. She believed her value was determined by the guys she dated. The girl in that picture wore a smile as a mask. Eventually, that mask shattered into a million little pieces. It hurt like hell and that girl who I once was found herself lost and confused. She spent months awake at night and slept all day. She became so unrecognizably sad and tired that the bags under her eyes started to transform into tattoos instead of temporary features. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and still I was left struggling to keep my head above water. I had gained weight, and my jeans were starting to fit a little tighter. My struggle with bulimia became worse as I tried to lose weight, but could never succeed. With only a few months until high school graduation, my grades dropped lower than they ever had been. My parents and friends tried to help me, but nothing they did worked. With that extra weight around my middle and no guy by my side, who was I? In my mind, I was worthless and ugly. I was incapable, and I was destined for failure. However, each Sunday morning I woke up and headed to church with my best friend. I prayed and prayed hoping this pain would go away. After all, what had I done to deserve any of this? I was praying and reading my Bible; I was practicing my faith, and I spent my Wednesday night’s pouring God’s love into a group of freshman girls. My heart ached with a pain deeper than I ever thought possible and I didn’t understand what was going on. I had failed to realize at the time that the pain I was going through was God’s way of protecting me. I had been on the fast-track train headed straight for a lifestyle of self-destruction and wasn’t likely to jump off anytime soon. I was upset and angry with God. I pleaded with him, just please make me better. I was experiencing brokenness in a way I never have before, and I was hating every second of it. Little did I know, that this time of feeling as if I was nothing more than a million tiny little pieces would be the best thing ever to happen to me. It separated my real friends from my fake friends and forced me to be brave. I didn’t want to feel like I was hiding anymore, so I spoke up. When those closest to me found out what was happening, I ran the risk of not being believed. The mask of happiness I had learned to wear so comfortably was ripped off, and all that remained was the cold, dark truth. At first, I considered my truth to be horrifying and ugly. I already wasn’t enough to be beautiful, now with a story like mine, I was sure to be nothing short of hideous. Depression, anxiety, an eating disorder, and sexual assault. What more could I add to my “Shit I’ve Had to Deal With” resume? After a while, I started to look at my story in a different light. Instead of looking at my story of brokenness as who I was, I began to view it as the launch pad for who I would become. I learned how to be brave by speaking up for what is right and sharing my story. It isn’t always easy. Some days I can’t bring myself to share my experiences, and that’s okay. On those days, I have to allow myself grace. My story has taught me that my beauty doesn’t depend on how much I weigh or who I have standing next to me. My beauty isn’t in worldly things but Heavenly things. I find my beauty when I trust the one who created me. It’s not always easy, and I never will pretend like it is. There are times I struggle and wonder how I am anything more than broken. It is during those trials that I look myself in the mirror and say to myself, “You are beautiful. You are loved. You are worthy, and you are enough.” Somewhere out there one of you reading this may be holding onto every word. You may find yourself relating to my story and feel as if you are struggling to breathe. It may feel as if you will never be more than you are right now, but listen as I say, when you ache, God aches. He loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurting. However, sometimes in order for him to protect, he must allow us to break. Then we must embrace that brokenness and use it for something good. Finding the good in the bad can be difficult, I know. At times I don’t know how to hang on, but then I remember: I am broken, brave, and beautiful and I love every minute of it. Happy Thursday everyone! Only one more day of the week left then it’s time to relax! Last week, I ended my post about brokenness by stating that brokenness allows for people to be exceptionally brave and beautiful. Now as promised, this week I’m going to talk all about bravery. The following quote by Veronica Roth in her book Allegiant, beautifully describes what it is to be brave. “There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater. To each person, bravery can be something different just as Roth stated.
Those in the military demonstrate it by going to war and risking their lives to defend our constitution. They are a part of something greater than themselves as they fight for our freedoms as Americans. Throughout history, thousands of American soldiers have died on the battlefield and yet each day, men and women from across the country agree to fill the roles of those now gone. Not only are these soldiers brave, but so are the family and friends they leave behind while they are away. Each day brings about worries, about whether or not their husband, wife, son, daughter, or parent will return. Worries about how they will care for their children while the other is away. Throughout it all, they keep going. Then you have the girl whose father has passed away. It’s his birthday and all around her are people whose fathers are still living. She hears them complaining about how they don’t like their dad and can’t bear it. She longs to run to them and say “Please, appreciate him while he is here! Soon he could be gone!” However, instead, she simply walks away from the situation with tears in eyes. She contemplates calling her best friend but worries she is a bother. However, she dials her friend regardless. She considers setting down the phone and picking up the bottle, but something stops her. A voice in her said tells her to leave the bottle lay and stay on the phone. She's scared but listens. When her friend picks up she tells her everything and with every ounce of courage in her body, she bravely asks for help. There are others too; that demonstrate bravery by fighting battles we cannot see. Some fight against the unforgiving grip of depression where even waking up in the morning can be extremely hard. However, through it all, they keep living even though the demons in their head tell them to end it all. Others fight back against eating disorders and anxiety. Asking friends to go to the bathroom with them after a meal to make sure they don’t purge to practicing saying, “I am kind, smart, talented, and worthy of love,” these are both examples of bravery. Even when you don’t believe the encouraging words you are saying to yourself, simply being able to say them is an act of bravery. Sometimes being brave means being vulnerable, it means sharing your story with people. It means letting others in on your deepest and darkest secrets. It means allowing others to see your scars whatever they may be. Each day brings about a new opportunity for bravery. Although we may not think of asking for assistance from a professor or coworker as brave, it can be. For some, admitting they need help is incredibly challenging and asking someone else for help is even harder. Even apologizing to someone you have wronged is brave because you don’t know how they will react. For each person bravery is different. However, throughout it all bravery has one thing in common; it is born out of fear and brokenness. Author’s Note: This is the first of three posts that will cover the topics of brokenness, bravery, and beauty. Check back every Thursday for a new post.
Brokenness, it’s something we all experience at some point in our life. To each person, it appears different. Google the phrase, “stories of brokenness” and in 0.69 seconds you receive nearly 500,000 results. Reading through the different results, you find stories of all kinds. People share their experience of domestic violence, childhood abuse, heartbreak from infidelity, and so much more. These stories shed light on painful pasts and current situations. Some are simply remembering times of brokenness they have experienced throughout their lives. Others share their stories of brokenness as it is happening in order to work towards healing. So many times brokenness is seen as something negative. Society condemns those that display any signs of brokenness, labeling them as weak or unsteady. From the woman in the grocery store crying because she has just received a call informing her of the death of a family member to the man walking out of the clinic in disbelief after hearing the words, “You have cancer.” Even the small child on the playground going home with tears after being ridiculed by bullies is shamed. For those struggling, phrases like, “Well you should be grateful you don’t have it as bad as they do,” or “You’ve got to get over it if you ever want to get better,” amongst many others are often heard. However well-meaning these phrases are, they often are more destructive than they are helpful. By comparing someone’s situation to that of another’s you are simply telling them that their feelings are not valid. This only adds to the feelings of brokenness and despair. Each person that has walked this earth has a story to tell. Some are full of never ending joy and laughter. Then there are stories that only seem to know pain. Often times the stories of people we know are not always what they seem. That guy in your English class, you know the one that seems to have it all together? He’s struggling. His struggle and feeling of brokenness are deeper than you could ever imagine. You can’t see it now because he hides it so well, but there was once a time in which he revealed it. He spoke up and was shamed by those who downplayed the seriousness of his situation. Then were the people who questioned his faith. They asked how much he was praying and reading his Bible. When he answered, they said it wasn’t enough. Didn’t he know that he was only struggling because he wasn’t praying and reading enough? As a Christian, I do believe that reading your Bible and investing in a relationship with Christ can help with healing. I say this because it has helped me and I’ve seen it help others. However, I do not find it acceptable to question someone’s faith, especially when they are struggling. Just as you would never throw a Bible at a diabetic and tell them to simply get better; you should also never do that with someone feeling broken. A diabetic goes to professionals for help, and sometimes a person struggling with brokenness also may need the help of a professional. So instead of questioning their faith, pray for them and pray with them if they allow you to. Encourage them and be willing to listen to their story without judgement. By condemning those who struggle you do not help them; instead you hurt them even more. Because of this, brokenness can often lead to low self-esteem and isolation. Those living in brokenness many times feel as if they have nowhere to go and no place to turn to. I know this because I have felt this time and time again throughout my past. Many of you reading this may have also experienced this feeling at different times in your life. You may even feel completely broken right now. If you’re someone who has previously struggled with brokenness or are in the midst of your struggle, please know that you are not alone. You may feel so broken that you are unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I promise you that it is there. The late Vance Havner said it best when he said the following: “God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.” -Vance Havner I truly believe that just as Havner has said, “God uses broken things,” he also uses broken people. Those people are not just broken, but they are exceptionally brave and beautiful because of their brokenness. |
AuthorHello everyone, I'm Bri! Here you can find me writing about life in order to help provide you with encouragement and hope. Want to find out more about me? Go visit my "About Me" page! Happy reading! Archives
April 2017
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