Courage

I've never really given a whole lot of thought to the word.  I always just thought of people like Harry Potter, or Frodo Baggins, people who have marvelous but perilous adventures but come out on top in the end, because that's just the way it is.  Good always wins.  

I never realized just what I had been missing.

It's the same for me.

I, in my own way, am like Harry Potter or Frodo Baggins.  I have my own marvelous, but perilous adventure that I deal with every day.  Every day it changes, every day new circumstances arise that were maybe unexpected or unwanted, but they come.  There's nothing I can do to stop that.  

It's called Life.

I've been selling myself short for a long time, thinking that I wasn't worth the extra effort of anybody else because the battles I'm fighting weren't that big of a deal.  They should have been easy for me because they seem to be so easy for everyone else.

Here's my problem though.

I love.

Deeply, truly, and completely.

It devastates me when someone I love is hurt, or sad.  But I've found that it was even worse when someone I love hurt me.  How could they do such a thing if I loved them like I did?

Perhaps that's how the Savior feels sometimes.

He loves us inside and out, and sometimes we spit in his face and make bad choices, despite his constant efforts to remind us who we are, and who we can be.  What must he feel like when that happens?

Perhaps this has been my way of knowing.  But it hasn't been easy, for having been hurt so deeply by someone whom I cared for and trusted more than anyone else, I stopped loving myself, and everyone around me.

I put on a mask, and put up walls so high not even a Mongolian could scale them.

I wasn't able to see the good of any relationship, for if the opportunity came up for me to possibly consider dating somebody, I would run from it, because what I saw was the ending conversation of "it's over." before it had even began.  The pain of abandonment ruled my thinking and I no longer trusted that any good would ever come from any sort of relationship.

I knew I was wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to change my behavior, because I was afraid.

Afraid of change.

Afraid of pain.

Afraid to trust.

Afraid to love.

Afraid to let the world see me for who I am.

Because the more people know about you, the easier it is for them to hurt you.  You can only trust that they aren't out to get you.  

I didn't.

I wouldn't have changed either, had a not had a talk with Nathan tonight that changed everything.

He convinced me to go on a date with him, which I was more than skeptical of, being me, but I went nonetheless.

We went to Denny's and talked about my book that I'm writing, but the fact that it was a date still put me on edge.  He knows me possibly better than any of my other friends.  He has this horrible gift of being able to see through me.

When he dropped me off at my house, we started talking about why dates and relationships make me so nervous, and got to the root of the problem.

In a sense, I've forgotten how to trust.

I've been so consumed with my own guilt, pain, and regret, that the thought of being able to love and trust again seemed impossible.

Nathan was a willing listener, but when I wasn't talking, he was teaching me things he's been learning in his therapy sessions, most of which I could apply to myself.

Turns out I've still been asking myself that same question: Why me?

I thought I was done asking that question, but it's still a prominent issue for me, not being able to understand what role this mistake had in making me a better person.  

I've learned from it, that's for certain, but the only good I saw coming from it was being able to help a good friend of mine avoid a bad relationship.  Nathan suggested that maybe that was the purpose, but I said that I don't want to be the example of what NOT to do.  

Nobody likes being the example that people look at and say "Oh, don't do what she did."

It's rather embarrassing and somewhat humiliating.

But after going inside,  talking with my dad, and receiving a Father's Blessing, I've started looking at it a different way.

Maybe I wasn't meant to be the example for what not to do.

Maybe I was meant to be the example of overcoming.  Maybe the purpose of all this is to show people, and myself, that even the hardest trials can be overcome.

This is, without a doubt, the hardest trial I have ever come to face.  It has been a dominant part of my life for the past year, and it's not over yet.  

But it's not over until I give up.

But only I can make that decision, because the Lord isn't going to give up on me. 

And I hope that my friends won't give up on me.

What significance that word has...

Hope.

Hope for the future.

Hope for relief.

Hope for guidance.

Hope for courage.

That was what I had lost.

I had lost hope in ever overcoming, and because of that, it was a huge setback for me, and I almost had to start over.

I very well might when Ty leaves for Korea.

But I have to keep remembering.

I'm not alone.

So long as the sun continues to shine every morning when I wake up, I can rest assured that I'm not alone.

As my dad said in my blessing, the Spirit of the Lord will be my wings, my swift feet, and my strong arms.

I'm still learning how I can fully give my burden to the Lord, because I've tried, but for some reason I continue to mull and despair over the same problem.  

That's the next adventure.

Learning to let go.  To give up my burdens to the Lord.

And most of all, finding the courage to wake up each morning and say 

"I can do this."