I remember the day my best friend told me that she knew it wasn't always smiles with me. We like to share the story about how she disliked me at first because she thought I was too nice and it had to be fake. As time went on, she realized there was more than the bubbly attitude,to the point she reassured another friend that I had issues too so I was trustworthy.
For once, I was glad that someone saw past the smile. Believe me when I say that, the smile is real and intended for others to smile back. I have always wanted people to feel joyful around me. I have this desire to make sure no one every felt left out or uneasy around me: that they truly felt welcomed in my prescense.
The truth is I'm not normal. I have a dark twisted side. A side that I feel is completely broken. A side that has thought it would be better for everyone if I didn't live. A side that has failed over and over again with my family. A side that continues to make poor choices in relationships. A side that completely blames herself for being sexually assaulted because why else would it happen. Ultimately, I have a fear that no one will ever love this broken side of me.
I have overcompensated by being one of the hardest working people I know. And yes, I have found love in what I do. I truly get to serve.
One of the biggest shocks in my 24 years of living is coming to the realization that God would allow me, a completely broken person to carry and grow a life. How could I be responsible for such a beautiful, innocent, untouched, life.
So I worked harder and harder, to compensate for all my failures as a human being, as a child of God. God would see that I was worthy of this child. I worked through the 7 months of morning sickness, through the flu, and I paid every bill that had to be paid, beause this baby wasn't going to suffer because of me. My mistakes would not affect the stability my son would grow up in.
Up until, I couldn't work no more.
Bed rest: The worst phrase a woman determined to make things better by actions could hear.
I was angry.
I was angry with my babies father for not being the support I needed, but I was really angry with myself.
The moment I moved back in with my parents was one of the hardest things I had to do. Not because of who they are as parents (even though they drive me crazy with the amount of truth they speak into my life ), but because it was the realization that I couldn't do it all on my own and I made a mistake that caused them heartache and they would be going through the consequences with me.
For 6 weeks, I have been laying down, while my poor brother has to feeds me every morninge, while my mom washes my clothes and comforts me, while my dad has to work every day to provide for me and my baby. The most humbling experience I've ever endured.
And guess what? My family still loves me.
God still loves me because he forced me to see that in my brokenness, Hehas been teaching me that my worth isn't from how much I can do or what I've been through.
I'm not perfect and I'm completely broken. But I am loved and that is reality. This baby that I get to love is reality.