On the color orange…

Today, on the way home from church, my husband said something to me that made my week.  He looked at me and said, “I can see that you are almost back to being yourself.”

I guess I should say more about that.

When I was in college, I was as active as humanly possible.  I was president of the student senate, I was vice president of my sorority, I was a little sister to a fraternity, I tried to join every club I could, and I tried to meet as many people as possible.  I was loud.  I was commanding.  I was crazy.  I loved every, single, beautiful moment.

My junior year of college I met a boy.  The first year we dated was lovely.  However, by year two, everything started to crumble.  The boy became controlling, emotionally abusive, and downright mean.  I was ignorant, and I thought that if I married that boy he would change.  So when I was 22, I got married.  As you can guess – things went from bad to terrible.  The boy became worse and worse.

Before I started dating my now ex-husband, I started out as a bright shiny orange sculpture.  Gradually, I was painted over with colors that dulled me.  My ex did not like that I was active, so he dulled the orange with some bland yellow. Then, he didn’t like my friends – so he put some green over the yellow.  Then, he didn’t like my hair, my clothing, how I spent money, my cooking, my cleaning, my family, my love of baking, my religious beliefs… so layer by layer paint got added on until I was the dullest tan you could ever imagine.  I wasn’t allowed to cook what I wanted, bake what I wanted, see my family, talk to my friends, or attend church.  I was finally palatable to my ex, but I felt dead on the inside.

They say that when you have post-traumatic stress disorder you do not just shut down the tough emotions (like fear, anger, or sadness).  In order to cope with traumatic events, you shut down everything.  I did that too.  In order to cope with being in an abusive marriage, I shut down everything.  I no longer felt fear when I was yelled at.  I could not cope with the sadness of not being able to do the things I loved, so I even shut out my grief.  My fear was gone, but so was my happiness, my joy, my light.

After years of hoping things would getting better, and seeing them gradually get worse – I decided that I either had to die or I had to leave.  I decided to leave.  I asked my ex-husband for a divorce, and we parted ways (I’ll write more about that whenever I am ready).

Everyone experiences or feels the love of God differently.  Some people feel God’s love when they walk through nature.  Some feel God’s love when they sing.  I, however, see the love of God when I am by people.  I see the love of God the most when I get to interact with children at church.

Children are the best thing in the world. In particular, I think toddlers are the most amazing miracles ever created.  They are amazing, because they are all bright, and shiny, and orange.  They scream when they want something.  They cry when they have to.  They are not afraid to be exactly who God intended them to be.  My favorite children (although I probably shouldn’t admit this) are the ones that are super crazy.  They won’t sit still, they run around like crazy, they dance, they sing…. They know they are perfect – because God made them that way.  Every time I teach Sunday school, I try to soak up a bit of the perfection. 

Two years ago I started baking again. I started with simple cookies, and now I’ve worked my way up to expensive cakes (eek!).

A year ago I started teaching Sunday school.  I am active in my church, I get to read my Bible whenever I want, and I am growing in my faith.

Now, I get to talk to my new friends and my old friends as often as I want.  They love me as I am, and they support who I am trying to become.

Now, I get to talk to my mother whenever I want.  I love hearing her voice.  She makes me feel calm.

Now, I get to be exactly the way that God intended me to be.

I still feel like I am covered in a few layers of paint.  Yet, each month, I shed a layer…

I am now happily married to a wonderful man named Del.  He is, quite possibly, the best husband in the entire universe.  My identity is not centered on my husband; however, with my husband’s love and support I am learning to let myself be the woman God created me to be.  Sometimes I am saddened by the fact that I am not the same person I use to be.  I miss the days when I was brave enough to talk to any stranger, and the days where I could command a room.  Some days I cry because I feel like I missed out on years of my life, buried under a terrible marriage.  I can either choose to wallow in pity, or I can move on and be happy that I am here – and that God has given me a second chance.  I choose to take the second chance.

With this second chance, I choose to peel away all of the layers. Surrounded by great friends, the love of my mother, some chocolate cake, an amazing husband, the grace of God, and some bright orange children – I know that I am on the right path.

On the week we broke the internet (and got a new water tower design in the process)...

Two weeks ago, my husband and I broke the internet.

Well, not really.  What we did do was try to make positive changes in our community via the internet.

Two weeks ago, I noticed the city council’s pick of a design for a new water tower.  I jokingly asked my husband to make a new design – because he is hilarious and I knew he could do a better design in less than five minutes.  He posted his new design on Facebook.  By noon that day we started a Facebook group claiming the water tower design was lame.  Then we asked people to submit new water tower designs, and asked people to vote on the design they liked the best.

Mlive (a local news source) did a few stories on our group (thanks again Mlive – especially you Will!).

The city council held a special meeting –where one of the topics was picking a new water tower design.

Last night – the city council picked a new design based off of submissions from our Facebook group.

The designs people submitted were beautiful.  I feel so incredibly proud of Jackson, and so incredibly proud of the level of creativity that runs throughout our city.  I am also incredibly thankful that the city council was receptive to reconsidering a new design.  Overall, I am just thankful and grateful.

I also learned a huge lesson about the internet: people on the internet can be jerks.  I go online and read three newspapers a day, and I peruse the comments section.  I always knew that there were a select group of people that were incredibly cruel.  It is one thing to read the cruelty when it is directed toward an op-ed piece on a news site.  It is entirely different to have people rip apart and denigrate the creative work of others for no apparent reason other than to be a jerkface.

When my husband and I created the group we had two rules: we would be positive about Jackson and we would never be mean to people that posted cruel things.  For the last two weeks, I think my husband and I have had several nose bleeds from taking the high road.

Foucault’s discourse analysis looks at how power can take form via language.  In other words, the moment you put something into language – you give it power.  By talking about the water tower design, we gave that power.  By talking about the negative comments via the water tower, I am giving them power.  We heard one guy ranting about how dumb our water tower Facebook group was.  I giggled thinking “We won.  You just gave us power.”  Then, I caught myself in my own ironic trap and thought “Damn, did he just win because I gave his conversation power by talking about it?” 

It is easy to get lost the power of it all.  So – let’s not get lost.  Moving forward, there are three things my husband and I want to do with our new found “power”.

First, we want to give power away.  The worst bosses are the people that sit atop of their knowledge and never disperse it.  Those bosses make you feels scared and intimidated.  We don’t want to be that type of boss.  Through this Facebook group, and through voting, my husband and I realized we have the ability to help people’s voices be heard.  We want to give more power to that.  We have an entire generation of people who feel like no one in government cares about what they are saying.  We want to help end that.  We have a bunch of residents who love Jackson and are waiting to see where they can help.  We want to give power to those positive voices.  We want our generation to be active and engaged.  We want people to feel like their views and voices are important.  We want to take the power of people’s voices on the internet, and channel them into streams where a positive impact can be felt throughout the communities in which people live.

Second, we are going to die of nose bleeds.  By that, I mean we are always going to keep our integrity.  A few days ago my husband looked at me and said a level of annoyance, “You ALWAYS take the high road.”  He is right.  I always do and I always will (well, more like 95% of the time).  I would rather die being kind to someone than live knowing I have the power to tear a man down and make him feel like he is less than I.  There is no love in that lifestyle.  There is no real victory in that lifestyle.  When people are mean to my husband or me it hurts my heart.  My human reaction is to punch that person (we are all human first).  However, because I have the ability to exercise control, my reaction will never be to punch.  My reaction will be to remain kind.  That does not mean we will be doormats to people whose only action is to tear us down.  I will walk away from cruelty and I will remove myself from abuse. 

Third, I pray that everything we do is to honor God and help people feel the love and compassion of Christ.  Over the past two weeks, I have never felt so torn down in my entire life.  Fortunately, every time someone said something mean – we had 10 people on our side lifting us up.  We had friends writing to us sending us words of love and kindness.  We had strangers defending us.  Despite feeling torn down, I do not know if I have ever felt so much love.  More than that, my husband and I had some amazing reactions with complete strangers.  One person wrote saying that he was disappointed that he missed the deadline to vote and that he had tough personal day.  My husband wrote back and sent the stranger kind words.  My husband and this stranger then proceeded to have an amazing conversation.  God’s grace came through in that moment.  Wherever we meet anger with kindness, we find God.  Whenever we meet dissent with compassion, we find God.  Whenever we find God in any of these moments, we honor Him in what we do.  I pray that we continue to do that.

On paying student athletes...

I'm a sociologist by heart.

What does that mean?

It means that when I see a social problem I try to do two things.  First, I try to understand the issue as it stands today as well as how it evolved to its current state.  Second, I try to understand how powers outside of the individual are at play within the issue.

Student athletes are trying to unionize at Northwestern University.

If I were teaching a social problems class, I would have students debate this article.  This article illustrates the intersection of so many amazing issues.

Student athletes are stating that they would like to unionize for two key reasons.  They state that decisions are being made about them, like their health and conduct, yet they have little to no input in those decisions.  They state that colleges and universities make a lot of money off of their performance, yet the compensation the athletes receive off of that is minimal.  The athletes argue that they put in around forty hours a week of work, so they should be given union rights comparable to someone that puts in a solid work week at an auto plant or as a teacher.

I am a firm believer in trying to solve the problem at its source.  I see no point in creating expensive band-aids that stop a leak, when you could prevent the wound from ever occurring.  The problem with this approach is that stopping the issue at is source typically involves changing social structures that are old, firm in their beliefs, and have the power to topple over anyone that gets in their way.

So what is the real issue here?

Well, I think the real issue here is capitalism.  When academia was founded, the entire purpose was not to get an education so you could make money.  What was the purpose?  Learning and the creation of knowledge.  Boom.  Yes, that simple.

However, we have evolved since then.  Instead of families subsisting on farms by their lonesome, we now have factories that make stuff.  When we shipped those factories to third world countries our economy began shifting to more services and the creation of the inanimate (um – see Google.com).  In order to feed this beast our education system changed.  No longer do people go to school just to learn.  People go to school so they can learn so they can get jobs so we can feed this beast that we created – even though we don't even remember why the hell we created it in the first place.

This begs the important question that no one is asking.  Why do we have student athletes?  The original intent of student athlete was rooted in the notion that it was important to be a well-rounded person.  Being a well-rounded person involved being both well-informed and a well-tuned semi-athletic person.  Colleges began having people (ok – mostly men) do athletic activities.

We seemed to have moved far away from this notion of a well-rounded college person.  Why?  Well, colleges have changed in their purpose and thus changed in how they are run.  Specifically, how colleges are funded has changed drastically over the last few years.  Colleges use to be paid for by the wealthy elite that could afford to attend their institutions.  I mean, let's be real here – what 1700's farmer could afford to send their kids away for several years to attend college?   It isn't like Joe Farmer had Pell grants.  Now colleges are funded by a weird mix of stuff.  The elite colleges sit on a huge pile of endowment monies.  The private semi-elite have a mix of endowment/tuition.  The private less than elite just keep raising tuition.  Public colleges pray have a mix of endowment, tuition and some government funding. 

Over the years, non-elite private colleges and public universities have taken a hit at their money belts.  The economic divide between the rich and poor continues to grow.  The economy crashes.  The middle class that could afford to pay tuition lost their jobs.  Public universities saw their government funds slashed.

Let's move to private colleges and public universities.  You use to have a good middle class base (well – for a few decades anyways).  You use to have more government funds.  Now both of those are slashed.  What do you do to get money?  Well, you develop a sports program (I don't have enough space to write about that history).  You make it popular.  You charge people to watch games.  You sell shirts and stuff.  You get your own tv network so people have to pay to watch your games.  You rake in billions.

The pro of this is that private colleges and public universities now have funding.  More non-athletes can attend.  College athletics helps to subsidize costs for many other programs.  The con?  Well, student athletes are pretty much treated as cheap slave labor.  Granted, many times their education is paid for – and let's be honest – they pretty much get a degree without actually having to attend class (shut up – you know it is true).

Okay.  So how do we fix this?  We have thousands of college athletes that are getting pimped out for their talents then thrown away when they are done.

Honestly.  We don't.  Short of changing the structure of capitalism (hahahahahahaha…. Never gonna happen) there is no real fix for what we have created.

We could pay higher taxes to public universities so we don't need college athletes to subsidize the cost of college… but who is going to vote for higher taxes?  We could raise tuition costs to offset the cost… but who is going to pay for that?  We could tax media organization's profits from these costs so that money could go pack into private/public university costs… but isn't that just furthering the problem?

We have created an entire system that tells people they need to be educated to work so they can create stuff so that they can buy stuff so that we can maintain this system.

There is no fix for this.  Nothing will happen.  College athletics are worth billions.  The networks that play NCAA games are worth billions.  Do you really think they are going to let some silly athletes have rights?  They aren't.

If you don't like what is happening, that is ok, but that is as far as this goes – a fleeting emotion.  The system that created this happened a long time ago, and it is only getting worse.​

On giving up complaining...

For the past few years I have tried to give up something for Lent.

Five years ago, four years ago, and three years ago I tried to give up swearing.  Honestly, it just never took.  I would drop a four-letter word and never think twice about it.

Last year I decided to go for something different.  Rather than give up something like sugar or chocolate, I decided to give up saying critical things about other people.  If you want to know whether you are critical of others, I recommend trying to give up saying negative things about people.

From that I experience I learned two key things.  First, I learned that if you give something up it is exceptionally healthy if you have something to replace that thing.  Second, I learned that when you are trying to give something up, you become incredibly aware of that thing.

This year for Lent, I decided to give up complaining.  I spend about three hours a day driving to and from work, so my first thought was to give up road rage (oh yes, I have road rage).  However, on the first day of Lent one of my friends sent me an article on complaining.  The article stated that complaining is – despite common thought – totally unnecessary.  You may be asking yourself, “Don’t you need to vent or get something off your chest?”  It turns out that the happiest people complain the least.  Further, research has found that individuals that complain are usually upset longer than people that internally process.  

When I was younger I remember being told that the point of Lent was to suffer.  Christ was tempted by the devil for forty days and forty nights.  I was told that we give up something for Lent so we can understand that suffering.  The thing is, if you are a human you know what suffering is because we are alive.  We have all experienced loss, pain and suffering.  

Twenty some years later, for me, the point of Lent is to remove something from your life, and replace that thing with Christ.

I had no idea how much I complained.  I made it one entire day without complaining.  Then, on day two I started complaining by 10:00am.  By noon I started feeling heartburn because I felt the complaints boiling up inside my chest.  When 2pm rolled around I started noticing my co-workers complaining about other people, and felt jealous that I could not join in.  By the drive home, I was concerned I would not make it to day three.  Thankfully, by 7pm I remembered the point of Lent.  Rather than start complaining, I took quiet time to pray to God.  I told God all of my complaints for the day and asked for peace in my heart.

Since Wednesday, I have complained one time.  What have I learned so far?

I have learned that there is a big difference between describing and complaining.  I have a bad neck from an old car accident.  My neck hurts quite frequently.  I have to tell my husband if I am in pain so he can help me.  Describing my pain is way different than complaining about it.  On Friday I told my husband that my neck was hurting and I needed him to help me by carrying something heavy.  That was descriptive.  Complaining would have been if I said, “I am so annoyed that my stupid neck hurts.  I am so sick of this crap.  Blahblahblah.”  The difference between describing and complaining is where you place the power.  Describing is stating how something is or was.  Complaining is putting the power of the situation onto someone or something else.  It complete removes your power as an individual from the situation.  I had no idea that I had been giving my power away.  When I complain, I remove my responsibility on an incident and place it on something else.

The best thing I have discovered so far is that because I cannot complain, I have to address problems immediately.  For example, today I was frustrated that my husband did not wipe off the counter.  Typically, I would have held on to that and told him sometime in the future that I would like him to work on that habit.  Instead, I told him right away that I was feeling frustrated.  He told me he was happy that I was upfront with him and told him right away.  I was shocked.  I thought I would be a nagging wife if I complained about something as unimportant as wiping the counter.  Now, I am wondering if I have been complaining for years about things I could have addressed right away?  

I am only four days in.  I cannot say that everything has been easy.  It has felt challenging not to complain.  However, I know I can do it.  If I fail every now and then that is ok.  I am trying my best.  Most importantly, for the next thirty six days I have the opportunity to turn to Christ to help strengthen me.  I am excited for the adventure.

On insecurity…

When will I ever believe I am safe?  What will be enough for me to believe I am ok?  Can my husband ever love me enough?  Can we ever have enough money for me to think I’m fine?  Will my friends ever care enough? What will be enough?  This house?  This car? This person?

I use to work for Nielsen at Kellogg.  Basically, that meant that every day I was surrounded by upper-middle class people who made more than enough money.  However, every day I heard people competing for something.  One day I was invited to a work event at a country club.  At the work event, everything was fully catered and there was an open bar.  In addition to all that I could eat or drink, there was a speed boat ride around a private lake.  I felt like a princess.  Interestingly, as the ten of us drove around the lake all I heard was “I wish my house was like that!” and “Well, we have a membership here” and “We just bought a speed boat.”  I felt super crappy.  I never wanted to live in a huge house.  I never wanted a speed boat.  Then, I felt pity for my co-workers.  Why would you be dumb enough to believe that your security could be found in material things?

As with most judgments, reality quickly slapped me in the face.  This week, God security checked me as hard as possible.  I deserved every security check I got.

Within the last six weeks, my husband and I literally were blessed enough to receive everything we could dream of.  Six weeks ago we – on a total whim – we decided to look at one house.  At the time, we weren't even looking at houses.  So at 11am on a Saturday morning we looked at a house.  By Wednesday we were pre-approved for a mortgage.  By Friday we had a signed offer.  God took care of us buying a house in the swiftest way imaginable.  It was a miracle.  Thank you God.

This week my husband was blessed with a different position at work.  He was trying to enjoy the role he had, but he was unhappy.  Thankfully, he got a new boss who saw he was suffering.  In a matter of days my husband’s boss moved him to a new position that my husband is going to love.  There was no change in pay.  There was no change in benefits.  A swift move.

Then, Thursday of this week – I totally blew it.

I went to start my car and the check engine light came on.  I should have stayed calm.  I should have thought to myself “God has taken care of us our entire lives – this will be ok.”  I should have reminded myself “God has given us swift kindness with a house and a job – this will be taken care of.”  I didn't do either of those things.  Instead, I totally freak out.  I yelled at my husband.  I blamed him for the car.  I cried and sobbed about how terrible everything was.  Then, I reluctantly drove the car to the mechanic and waited for terrible news.  After a brief wait the mechanic called me and said “Oh, it was nothing.  Your car is totally fine.  You won’t even have to pay for us to look at it.” 

Then, this morning – I totally blew it AGAIN.

My husband and I were sick of car troubles.  So, again, on a whim, we decided to get a different car.  We could no longer afford to pay for my car repairs.  In one day – my husband did all of the work.  He looked up dozens of cars.  He got us pre-approved for a car loan.  He found the perfect car and set up a test drive.  The car drove perfectly.  A friend looked it over and said it was great.  However – we went to get the check from the bank…. And we couldn't.  I should have stayed calm.  I should have been kind.  Instead… I DID IT AGAIN.  I verbally threw up all over my husband.

I feel so dumb.  Why am I dumb enough to believe that I will find my security in all of these material things?  We have a house.  Our cars are safe.  My husband is the most amazing person I know.  Still, again and again, in moments where I have every chance to realize that I am secure – I lose all control and freak out.

These experiences just make me ask “What is enough?”

I think one great flaw in our society is the belief that someone or something will make you secure.  My old co-workers tried to do it with boats and houses.  I think a lot of people in our society believe that once they acquire a certain number of things then everything will be okay.  We also try to do that with people.  We tell ourselves that if we have the perfect spouse or perfect friends we will suddenly be okay.  I think great spouses and good friends are vital to happiness.  However, believing you will find security in another person is false.  When you lose everything… what happens?  When it all shifts… where will your security be?

I use to read the Old Testament and get ticked at the Israelites.  I would think to myself “Really? You guys saw a sea get split in half!  God lead you out of slavery!  You have seen it rain bread! Why are you not trusting God?  IDIOTS!”  As I get older, I see how many similarities I bear to the Israelites.

This last week God gave me every chance to see that everything will be ok.  Then, in times of stress – I blew it.  I forgot everything I have learned about trust and staying calm.  I freaked out.  I lost my temper.

Thankfully, I have an incredibly forgiving husband.  When I apologized for my mistakes he promptly said “I forgive you.”  That is the glory of God.  Our security lies in the fact that we are forgiven.  When we have failed, which we all do all the time, we are forgiven.  When we lose our tempers, we are forgiven.  When we forget that we have been taken care of, we are forgiven. 

Now, that doesn't mean we get to fly off the handle and be jerkfaces and then just play the “Forgive Me!” card (I, obviously, need to work on controlling my tempter and my tongue .  What it does mean, is that we have the beautiful opportunity to see that in every moment – there can be redemption.  It means that real security lies in trusting God.  It means that when we our terrified and scared and angry, we can turn to God.  It means that in those moments where we have failed, we can turn back and say “I have failed.  Help me heal.”  And God will answer like my husband did and He will say “I forgive you.”

On the greatest sin…

Today, someone I know and love told me they had committed what they felt like was a terrible sin.  My heart cried for that person.  I write this post – for that dear, wonderful person.

We all have crap.  Everyone has sins, everyone has burdens, everyone has made mistakes.  I mess up ALL THE TIME.  What separates us is not the fact that we have sinned, but the fact that some of us deny the sin.

One of my undergraduate sociology professors once told the story about an abortion clinic.  When a new abortion clinic opened in Wisconsin (soon after Roe vs. Wade), protestors soon started to stand outside the clinic.  One protestor was a middle aged woman – let’s call her Kim - that had a 14-year-old daughter.  Kim would stand outside the clinic and yell profanities at the women and workers who entered and exited the clinic.  The woman who ran the clinic – let’s call her Maggie – came into work one day to find Kim sitting in the lobby with her 14-year-old daughter.  Curious about why she was in the lobby instead of protesting outside, Maggie asked Kim why she was at the clinic.  Kim said “Well, my daughter is only 14.  She is too young to have a child.”

Some days I dream of slapping people like Kim in the face. Who are those people?  They are the people that stand outside of where everyone is at, and just yell and scream.  They are the people that pass judgment upon everyone else, and never turn inward to try to improve themselves.  They are the first people to ask for forgiveness, and the last people to grant it.  They are the people that will yell at women who have abortions, and then be the first in line when their teenage daughter gets pregnant.  What holds me back from slapping people like Kim is an honest confession. The confession is, if we are being truthful to ourselves, we realize that we are all like Kim at one point or another. 

For some reason, we like to dream that perfection is attainable.  For example, whenever I hear people talk about Moses they usually discuss how he was a great leader that helped to lead the Israelites to the Promised Land.  Interestingly, when people talk about Moses they tend to leave out a few key things.  Like…. the fact that Moses killed a guy.  Oh, and the fact that after he killed a guy he ran away.  Oh, yes, and the fact that when God asked Moses to confront Pharaoh, Moses was pretty much like “Nope!” 

When I was in my earlier twenties, I got to counsel women who had abortions.  I got to ask them about the experience, ask if they were okay, and ask how they were feeling.  The most common thing I heard was “I never thought I would have an abortion.”

If we remove the “abortion” part of the sentence, I think we have a common experience.  There are many times in my life where I can say “I never thought I would….”  For example, I never thought I would be divorced by age 25.  However, at a very young age I found myself on the inside of a very difficult experience.  I felt unloved.  I felt judged.  I felt like a sinner.  I felt like the world – and God – were so disappointed in me. 

When we are young, we are blank slates.  We are perfect, unblemished, and clean.  We look around at everyone else and tell ourselves “I will never do this” and “No, that will never be me.”  Despite our best efforts, sometimes, we mess up.  We do something we never thought we would do.   We thought we might always be perfect.

Moses was imperfect.  Despite his imperfections, God loves him and called him to greatness.  Despite killing a man, which is a really crappy thing to do, God planned for Moses to do something incredible. 

There will be days and times when we find that we have erred terribly.  On those days, the only thing we can do is ask for forgiveness.  Ask for forgiveness from God.  Ask for forgiveness from anyone we have wronged.  Ask for forgiveness for ourselves.

Then, we must make right what we have wronged.  We must recognize where we screwed up, and try not to screw that up any more.

Next, we must move on.  We cannot go back to the way things are, because things have changed.  All we can do is move forward.

The greatest sin is not murder, or divorce, or abortion.  The greatest sin is pride.  The greatest sin is the day where we stand outside yelling, and never try to come in.  The greatest sin is where we turn to our neighbor in a time of need and say “You are terrible and I am better than you” instead of saying “I too have sinned, but we are loved by God – and we are forgiven.”

On my birthday…

Growing up, one thing my parents did EXCEPTIONALLY well at… was birthdays.  My dad loves giving people gifts, and my mother loves giving people attention.  That combination led to some of the best birthdays and birthday parties the world has ever known.

For my fifth birthday, we did a pizza fest at Rocky Rococco’s – and it was awesome.  For my seventh birthday, we went to Chucky Cheese – and it was amazing.  For my tenth birthday, we went to the YMCA.  For at least four of my birthdays, my parents threw me a surprise birthday party.  My childhood friend Mandy (she is still my friend today) likes to joke that my parents threw me a surprise birthday party just about every single year.

Then, something terrible happened.  I started dating my ex-husband around age twenty, and he did not believe in birthdays.  If I listed the top five worst days of my life, they would easily be:  3) my 23^rd birthday, 2) my 22^nd birthday and 1) my 21^st birthday.  By the time I got to my 24^th birthday, I gave up on celebrating my birthday altogether.  I stopped wishing for cakes.  I stopped hoping for presents.  I stopped wishing for breakfast in bed, flowers, attention, or anything else. 

Not long after my 25^th birthday – I got divorced.  You would think that I ran around and painted the town red after years of crappy birthdays.  Instead, I told no one it was my birthday and spent the entire day alone. I did the same thing for my 26th birthday.  

Several months after my 26th birthday, I started dating my husband Del.  For my 27th birthday, Del asked what I wanted, and I told him I did not want anything.  He refused to do what I wanted.  Instead, even though he had very little money, he got me ice cream cupcakes and wine.  He then proceeded to shower me with love and attention.

He asked me what I wanted for my 28^th birthday, and I told him I wanted nothing.  Then a few minutes later I told him one or two things I wanted.  He asked if I told anyone it was my birthday, and I told him “No” and that “I don’t want anyone to know.” 

The altogether sad reality is that years of abuse takes longer to break then you think it will.  When I married Del, I thought the cycle was broken and a shower of new love and light would rain down upon me.  Instead, I am finding that the cycle is gradually cracking.

Today, I told two co-workers that I love dearly that it was by birthday tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will be 28.  I wasn’t going to tell anyone.  However, someone at work brought in the exact same ice cream cupcakes Del got me for birthday last year.  If that wasn’t a sign from God to share what is supposed to be a day of joy, I don’t know what it.

I write this blog as my (passive aggressive?) way of telling people that it is my birthday.  I probably can’t tell you in person, because I will most likely start crying.  I don’t want gifts, because I haven’t really coped enough with the past to accept gifts very well.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I am not old, but it is the first birthday that I feel older.  College sports players are all younger than me.  Super Bowl winners are younger than me.  I have seen some birthdays come and go.  As much as I can be, I am ready for this birthday.

Bring it on God.  Bring it on world.  Bring it on family and friends.  I don’t know what I want, other than to say, “Hey, it is my birthday tomorrow.”