We Asked for Better, You Gave Us Bitter

I hoped for better in my lifetime than a regression to the "days of yore." But really, that time is not what most romanticize it for, it's a dangerous, dark and deadly door.

Now, here we are, in the future with a penchant for a past that doesn't exist, except in the minds of creative and deceptive revisionists.

The same who want to tell me that a protest isn't right, that that is not how Americans fight. I'm sorry, I'm sure I didn't hear you right.

This America, founded as the home of the free and land of the brave, made up of people running who, we’re told, didn’t want to be religious slaves. The ones who decided the rule and dare I say, oppression, of a king wasn't really their thing.

This America, taken from the hands of those who owned the lands through deceit and forced migrations, and stipulations that the indigenous are still paying for. You won’t even look at the receipt. Reservations set at a table at which no one should have to eat. The sky was the border until you brought disorder, and now they die bound on set lands.

Heritage and pride, ancestry and thriving lives, in your eyes, reduced to mascots.

This America, where we fight for a corporate logo instead of the people it purports to represent. How terribly indecent, how far our descent into insensitivity. And yet you say to just get over it.

This America, built on the backs of the blacks, forced from homes and brought here through abhorrent means. The families and lives destroyed, the pain of their humanity, traded as they were demeaned to be property.

Demons. Sexually immoral. Lazy. In need of a leader. Too feeble. Weak. ⅗ of a man. Childlike. Unable to speak up for themselves. To be coddled because they are ignorant. And still we pay the bill for these thoughts.

Like the native peoples, referred to as savages. Yet those who did these terrible things flipped through passages of a Bible that says "whosoever will" will be free indeed. Using the name of Jesus to enact the most horrible deeds.

This America, where a messaging strategy brought a thing created called Manifest Destiny, that is revered as the will of God. But it was an excuse used to confuse, to lay claim to what wasn’t yours- and as we still love to do, we came in kicking down doors, taking what’s not ours.

And now, you’re sour. Your greatest fear is that another group will come here and do what you did. You close your borders to those just like you and become hoarders of this so-called liberty that was once extended, but now is to be defended through hatred.

This America, where the poor are the problem. Where we laugh at the uneducated as we take their books and close their schools. We point at them on TV and refer to them as fools. We claim to be pro-life but let families starve with no regard for their hardship. We regale stories of grandads working hard, forgetting the subsidies that helped them to charge forward.

Programs of government were OK back in the day when the benefit went only to you. But now we talk about “hand outs” and “free stuff” as if no one has the guts to put in a full day’s work. You say, “If only the poor weren’t so lazy,” yet that’s obviously crazy when they’re balancing a job or two, and still can’t do what’s basic.

“Get an education!” But it’s hard to get one when charters are the new destination for segregation keeping the “separate but equal” lie alive. Here take this loan but don’t bemoan the 200% interest at which you must pay it back. And here they are, the educated and poor, living in lack.

Or what of those who work trades? Whose work was sent away, in the name of corporate greed, but we like to call by it’s acceptable name, profitability. We blame technology for the end of skilled labor but don’t talk about overseas sweatshops filled with penny-a-day wagers.

We blame the poor, on whom we shut the door and give low ceilings and slap them in the face when they come appealing for more. We take their chances for greatness in the name of morality and tell them to bootstrap their reality and that it will all be OK.

This America, where we like abstractions of the truth and distractions from the proof our own guilt. This truly wonderful place built with slave labor, poor families, immigrants and the indigenous so that our own tycoons could get rich. Then even richer and sell us a picture of what could be, if it weren’t for the “other guy” standing next to me; creating a dichotomy of us versus them, where we fight, only for the ones with no skin in, to win.

This America, where coded language is used to assuage guilt and incite hate. Turning brother against brother, each of us against one another, but we’re to believe in the beneficence of an oppressor, that has been the distressor since our story began.

Blame me, tell me I’m the problem. Yet I was born to solve them, to dismantle systems of destruction. Tell me, I’m the one who’s sedated, lulled to sleep by the lies of the “liberal media.” Who is always to blame when they shine light on the games you play. The check to your unbalance, only true when they agree with you. But the same media, guilty of being your tool to spread lies that defy the humanity of the “minority.”

And now, you’ll say I’m un-American and shame me for reading through history and revealing the artistry of your well-crafted lies. You tell me to, “Shut up!” because you despise the tune of my song. You say that I’m complaining, but, in truth, I love my home. Tears at “Oh say can you see?” But for me, I can see. I know my freedom isn’t free. Far too many paid a hefty price for me. No, not ungrateful; tired. Too much blood watering seeds sown in the hopes of a better future.

Better. My grandmother worked hard for better. My mother integrated schools for better. My sister and I live to bring better. Yet today, you’ve shown me that in this America, swallowing a bitter pill of recognition and repentance is not an option.

You're bitter that the “old ways” aren’t good enough. Bitter, that you cannot say and do what generations taught you was cool. Bitter because things got better for more than just you.

You're bitter that you’re not better than all the rest. Bitter that your lies must be laid to rest. Bitter that we won’t rest until better has come through. Better will be better for you, too.

Now come on, we’ve all got work to do.

For a while it may be bittersweet, but the fight will only be complete when you dismantle the inferior systems of supremacy. Or you can choose to stay bitter. But that’s not the route for me. I am moving on to better, because I refuse to accept defeat.

© 2016 Aisha Nichole Willis

that moment when

That cathartic moment when I finally let go and let God.

I'm not trying to tell you I've suddenly figured it out but I realized God had told me something AND that I had not acted on it yet. At issue, I thought I had been obedient. I stepped out. I left the comfortable place physically where all was right. I made a crazy decision and I followed it.

Somehow, today in a moment, I realized I was literally holding on to fear with one hand, and trying to carry out, with hindered faith, what I'd been called to do with the other. I did not believe I was moving anywhere close to my goals. Perhaps I thought I was going in another circle, doomed to repeat yet another cycle of failure. But something has broken off, changed.

I'm not repeating or rehearsing those old moves anymore.

Have you ever tried to type with one hand and get a vast amount of work done? That's akin to what I was doing. I was holding on to the idea that "if only x, y, z, 1, 2, and 3 all line up then I can really..."

But I know that's not how it works. Sometimes you just have to cut loose, let go of everything safe and disappear below the surface of the water. You have to take the first step before you see the full staircase.

Today is February 2, 2015 and I decided let go.

If I look foolish, it's better than being proven a fool for not trying.

If I make mistakes, I won't die, I'll learn and grow.

If I get lost, I'll ask for direction. I am blessed with many mentors.

If...

That's the deal, it's not about if anymore.

I posted about "almost" before, "if" is just as bad.

I can. I will. I must.

I am drawn to this place in the future where great change has occurred because I stepped up to play my role.

I have never, and I mean this, felt so free as I do in this moment.

God told me something and I decided to believe Him and align with His plans.




end note: I wrote this early one morning in February 2015 and somehow never hit publish. I still remember typing this, that feeling I had. I didn't know what all was coming and it was unsettling to say the least. But this moment, has to be remembered and recorded, so I'm hitting publish today, which is May 8, 2016. 
I'm not going to let "if" get in my way. I believe what He said to me.

almost

Almost is a terrible thing I've allowed to happen too often in my life.

I have more times than I can count, according to others around me, been so close to a desired outcome- only to come up short.

I am a reluctant leader, because more times than not, once placed in a position of leadership, I would do something human and be asked why I did what I did. My motives questioned, and my leadership skills minimized.

I have almost measured up to my own brilliance my entire life, but never apparently really reached it.

All I've ever heard about is how much potential I have. I unfortunately let this color my view of me. Apparently I've never done anything well enough- after all if you're not rising to your potential, that's what is being said right? Maybe that's not true and a bit too harsh, but in my gray matter- that's the message I've repeated. The folds in my brain go to pathways and triggers of pain when someone mentions my potential.

I have learned the hard way that I don't fear failure, I fear the effects of success. Once you succeed, when you gloriously mess up, you're paraded around as a fool and then told, you never really were that good to begin with. Must have been a fluke.

I have always been a bit responsibility shy. But I also don't like disorder and I love to solve problems, so I put my head down and get to it, only to be told what I am doing is not needed. Until I'm replaced by someone with credentials and a cool brand who comes along and says the same thing.

I'm told repeatedly to quiet down and watch what I say because I have a way with words, and because of that I have a responsibility. And often times I follow,  I chill only to be asked why it's so difficult to get an answer out of me.

Almost.

I'm tired of almost.

Yes, I'm ranting and complaining. But I can only point the finger at me. I'm a grown up and my decisions and actions are my responsibility. Where does that leave me?

I'm done with almost.

If I gloriously fail, then I'll fabulously learn, regroup and do it better the next time.

At some point I have to accept that I am not, nor will I ever be perfect. TODAY IS THAT DAY. I have made many mistakes but I have also grown and changed.

At some point I have to accept that I am not bad at what I do, I am new at what I do. TODAY IS THAT DAY. By accepting this, I hereby give myself permission to learn, to do the hard stuff, to swing and miss AND on many occasions get a hit, round the bases and bring it home. I don't always have to score, but I do have to step up to the plate.

My mistakes do not define me, they molded me. Mistakes are scars that say at least I tried. There have been many times I was kinetic, moving toward my goals. Tearing into life and enjoying it, for the sake of enjoyment. Not trying to prove myself.

There it is. I've been trying to prove I'm more than potential to someone, God only knows who- because right now, I'm surrounded by people who are encouraging me, who love me despite me.

At some point I have to accept that I am worthy of love. You know what? No matter what TODAY IS THAT DAY!

Today I declare personal freedom from my own prison of perfection, my desire to steer clear of foolishness for the sake of a wreath bestowed by whoever that says I've finally reached some mythical plateau of potential.

I'm not going to chase this high called reached potential any more. I'm doing everything I can to be the best me I can be.

ALL IN!

no more small thinking

By now we all know I struggle with thinking less of myself than I should. I think one of the reasons I do this is to keep myself from being a know-it-all jerk, but that's no excuse. I have to learn to balance confidence that is encouraging versus arrogance which is disparaging. I finally see this as another skill to develop, as I would time management.

Today I find myself at a crossroads of decision making. The options before me are all good but which is the best? And I know my choice is wholly dependent upon how I view myself. One of the paths is a little easier than the other and does not require as much from me but that is not what beckons to me, we also know I am a fan of the "hard way". No the choice comes down to my decision to do what's risky and to believe that I can do what I've been preparing to do. I have to decide that even though I may not "feel" like I'm ready that I am more than ready.

For the past six weeks I've been encouraging myself that I am well able to do the tasks and face the challenges before me. There are times that my mind wants to subscribe to the lie, things would be "easier" if I was really doing the right thing. Silly, I know. I recently decided to break out and try something different and its great but I have to push beyond the boundaries of the lies I've allowed myself to believe that place limitations on me.

Right before I decided to write this I was developing ideas for a campaign strategy for a business as an exercise. I was writing down ideas when I realized what I was doing. Did I mention before that I was creating content for an actual client? I am sitting here right now developing ideas that will go nowhere for the sake of practice, yet I even had a moment of hesitation about which path to take for my future. Again, silly.

Well, I suppose writing this out has helped. Decision made. I'm going to take the risk and I already know I'm going to grow. Thinking small has kept the greatness within and I am of the mind that each one of us shining as the star we are to be provides illumination for others to see the path to become the light they are to be which keeps it all going. I will not make a decision that impedes another's progress.

I would like to encourage any who would read this to do the hard things that challenge and develop you. It's like working out, when we first start a new regimen it's uncomfortable, we look goofy and it flat out hurts. But through time, training and consistency goals are achieved and our outlook changes on what we believe we can accomplish. Thinking small keeps us locked into small places but daring to believe and a willingness to put in work will see our capacity and perhaps our responsibilities expand.

the write dream

I made a decision as a kid before life had its way with me. It was my answer to that question adults love to ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I want to be a writer."

I did presentations about it, I thought about it, I learned to love to read. Then I read my favorite authors and poets and read about their lives too. I read a little bit of everything.

I wrote silly stories as a kid and emotionally-charged poems as a teenager. I kept my mind full of story ideas. I dreamed of seeing my name on the spines of books in the library and bookstore- rows and rows of books with my name.

As I grew I allowed life to change me and made a poor decision. I thought becoming a writer was impractical and would be a waste of time. I walked away from it and did not recognize it as my passion. I listened to an inner voice, what I thought was responsibility and reason and tried a different path. I've written much about that here but something wonderful happened in a moment when I was at a low point.

My desire to write was rekindled by a homework assignment, of all things. For a short while I was in ministry school and I wrote my version of a psalm. That simple act released what had been bound deep within me. From that moment in 2010 until now I've worked to rewire my mind to accept that I am made for this and that there is nothing wrong with that.

As noble a thing as it is to pursue studies and careers in the STEM professions, it is not for me. I am an artist and my palette is filled with words.  My creations are not always masterpieces but  the exercise is often a fun endeavor, mixing and matching letters on a blank page. Whether or not others appreciate what is on the canvas, I have to ask questions, I have to create, I have to speak- it's what I was made to do.

I was unfaithful to this but after all these years I'm grateful to finally be content in my pursuit of the write dream.

What makes you smile when you consider it as your work? What would you do even if you weren't paid? I'd like to encourage you to pursue that with your whole heart, no matter what detractors may say. You were made for it- go for it and find your right dream.

i am here

I am here because I was sent
I was sent because of a plan
I don't know the whole plan
I walk obediently following a call
I'm not good at walking by faith
Everyday I face fear and doubt
Sad to say right now I lose, a lot
You know what?
I am still here because I was sent
There is still a plan
Everyday a little more is revealed
I make decisions because I am not to aimlessly wander
I have been given gifts
My gift is making room for me
Not because of me or anything I've done
It's a spiritual law
Spiritual laws, like natural ones are always in effect
I can work with or against the goodness of the future
I'm not giving up or giving in
I don't know the details of how now gets worked out
I just know it does and it works well
I will not come this way again
I will not be held back or delayed anymore
Let go of what's mine
I see this trick for what it's been
I won't be  your puppet on a string
I'm not going crazy, I'm going free
He called me here
He made a way
He prepared and sent provision
He always wins

never say never

Never in my life did I expect to say the following statement:

I love working at the paper!

My fearless editor-in-chief and student publications director push the team to consider different ways to tell stories. In addition to writing the group is fortunate enough to learn to be creative through multimedia and digital storytelling. But selfishly I just want to focus on the writing part so I can become a better reporter.

I had an "aha" moment yesterday when I figured out it's thinking about those other things that will make me a better reporter. I took 10 minutes to walk outside the newsroom. I traded the walls and fluorescence for greenery and fresh air. I was able to clear my mind before I asked myself the question I hope I've learned to love:

"What's another, more interesting way I can tell this story?"

Within a few minutes I had an answer. I fought the urge to run back to the newsroom and really let the idea sink in. By the time I was back at the desk I was bursting with excitement to discuss the idea with my news editor. He liked it and helped streamline it for the best presentation.

The story is scheduled to publish tomorrow and I'm already thinking of creative supplementation for my other stories. And I'm excited about.

I never thought, imagined or dreamed that being a reporter would interest me. I've avoided it. I disliked the idea before I gave myself a chance to explore and see if reporting was for me.

I'm not telling you that I plan to do this for the rest of my life but I'm starting to see how so many are bewitched by journalism's charms. During spring break I read up on the current state of journalism, women in media and what's happening in the digital age. Seriously.

Even though I'm new at this I decided to change the way I view the newsroom. Yes it's a student publication and it's understood that it is a training ground, a place to learn. But I want to be sure I'm giving back. I'm challenging myself to go beyond.

I'm sure I said, "I'll never be a reporter," because I was afraid to try. I thought I would be bad at it, or say or do the wrong thing, and I dread deadlines. I allowed fear to become a limitation. I never gave myself a chance to do something I currently enjoy. How silly.

I'm grateful for this opportunity to learn. I'm changed by what I've seen and who I've been around. I'm going to give it my all.

Goodbye never.

magic words

Today I was told that I don’t have to suffer to make myself fit into a mold that I don’t within the workplace. I believe the words were, “I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here.” Oddly I’m challenged by that concept, as I am accustomed to the hard way.

This is on the list of the most freeing, life-giving statements I’ve heard. It was more than the words because friends have said it. But the position, the office this person holds made all the difference.

It’s someone in authority. I’ve dealt with intense hurt from authority figures so my interactions with that crowd can be awkward. I didn’t realize how deep into my thoughts the hurt went and how much I allowed it to fuel my smoldering self-loathing.

I come from the school of thought that you go through what you have to until you get to where you going:

“Do what you must until you can do what you want.”

So I would get a job, whether or not it was getting me closer to my desired path and do my best to get the job done. This has worked for a while but I’m not a kid anymore. Surely this axiom has an expiration date.

Unfortunately the damage is that it is hard for me articulate what my “dream” career looks like as I’ve made a career of learning what’s necessary, adapting to the environment and blooming where I’m planted. I’ve worked to support everyone else’s dreams.

But after this talk, I think something broke, in a good way. Now I have Questions:

1.    What’s the big lie?

2.    When did I begin to believe and repeat it?

Answers

1.    The central lie is like an equation:

• Excellence = Perfection, Perfect execution, every time, no matter what, so
• Lack of Perfection = Failure, Failure is always bad and always fatal, thus
• Failure = Inexcusable

2.    This equation became a rule so long ago I don’t remember when I began to believe it. As a result, I don’t think highly of or believe in myself. I don’t regard myself kindly or trust myself. For some odd reason, I think I have to keep myself on a short tether.

Lies, all lies. Vicious, malicious whirlwind of darkness and distraction to the point of filling my mind and heart with crippling self-hatred lies. I don’t even realize how harsh my self-criticism is until someone calls me out for it. If I talked to friends the way I talk to myself, I wouldn’t have any friends.

Today someone asked me what I wanted to do then called me out when I spoke negatively about my ability to make it happen. She took time from her busy schedule to help me. She told me to give my best everyday and that there was no expectation of perfection from me. She said that I could be free to learn from the mistakes I will make. Again not new words but definitely from a different source. She invested in me and gave me a reason to believe in me.

Those beautiful magic words that showed concern for my well being did something to me. I was given a new equation to replace the old one. I literally carry it on a note card in an envelope that says “Open in case of emergency”

Excellence, not perfection.

There is so much freedom in this simple phrase. It is a challenge to the lie. It means that everyday I will give my best and be teachable. I don’t have to expect myself to be perfect. It means when I do make mistakes that I don’t have to fear wrath. I’m not being measured against an impossible standard. I am allowed to fail forward when necessary.

I am free to learn, grow and flourish right where I am and for that I am grateful.

comfortable (now what?)

I did not share this scene from the script of my life just to stroll down memory lane. This is personal, somewhat embarrassing and a little uncomfortable. I share it because I know what it’s like when everything seems to be wrong. I know that vulnerable, weak place where so much seems lost. I hope this helps someone to know nothing is worth trading the comfort of the One and Only God. I didn’t pass that particular test, not at all. But I did learn about triggers, my personal points of weakness that can lead to bad decisions.

Four weeks ago I returned to the scene of all of this. It's years later and the characters are all different except the leading lady whose current situation could be seen as a place of weakness. I’m not perfect now either, but I have grown. I’ve learned there is an odd place of comfort in the midst of my greatest discomfort.  I am learning how to boast in my weaknesses, for in my weakness He is proven strong and He helps me to grow.

Right now I am moving forward and acceleration is happening in my life. Certain connections are being made and I’m acquiring new skills at an almost alarming rate to move toward my current goal. I’m launching my business for copy writing, editing and freelance journalism soon. I am also making new friends and strengthening old bonds.

Yes it’s a lot all at once and it requires a great amount of faith. After all, this is all happening on a college student’s budget. That is enough to cause a major meltdown and freak out session. But I am looking to the Comforter for help, strength, decisions and direction.

Fourteen years ago, I could have just told God, “I’m hurt and unhappy. I don’t know what to do. Please help me.” But I didn’t know how to do that. It really is that simple though to talk to Him. That’s what I hope anyone who has braved this historical document will take away.

God is Comfort in the midst of any darkness or uncertainty: loss of a relationship, loss of a job, death of a loved one, times of transition, financial instability, tough decisions for your business, family issues, etc. No matter what comes God is there not only with great love and comfort but also peace and direction.

As a young woman I was willing to compromise everything for a modicum of comfort in a moment of weakness. But now as a mature one I can confidently tell you I know Him Who is my Comfort and I rely on Him daily for every good thing.

image found at Living Healthy Together

comfortable (a compromise)

The room was dark. I only had the hazy glow of the building's exterior light to assist with sight, although I didn't need it as my eyes were pretty much closed. I leaned in closer and adjusted there on his lap.  Here it was a cold Saturday night and we were warming things up the old fashioned way. He held me steady with one hand and the other was let's say wandering while he kissed me deeply. We went on like that for a while before he said we should move to be more comfortable.

I had a brief moment to ask myself, "What in the world am I doing and how did I end up here?" but soon most of my rational thought exited the premises. Note: mostly not completely. The he was Alex, the only man to be that intimately close to me. We'd just turned 22, were not in love and were searching for comfort.

Before I move on to what didn't happen once we crossed that threshold, I would like to address how I allowed myself to get there. As I explained previously, Alex and I parted ways at 16. I saw him for a brief moment at 18 before he went to UT Austin and I went to UT Arlington. We were in different places physically, spiritually and emotionally. And I bet he was not thinking about me just as much as I was not thinking about him.

I always dreamed of going far away to school but remained in the Dallas area. I didn't have my own vehicle so I couldn’t just go home, or anywhere, whenever the urge struck. So here I was in Arlington, Texas, the transition town between Dallas and Fort Worth where so many major attractions stand. My first night there a group of us went to a movie and friendships began that would be incredible bonds even to this day.

The next day we met for church and to be honest, I don't remember much. But the midweek service three days later I have certain details of. It was at a local recreation center, the weather was Texas warm, there was so much joy in the air, and I met this guy who was part of the campus ministry who would become a close friend. OK, I think you may be able to see where this is going.

His name, Brandon (changed this time to protect the innocent, well mostly), and I guess technically this was our second meeting. He was a counselor at my freshman orientation that summer, although it was he who would remind me of that later. He was just shy of 6 feet tall, straight brown hair, brown eyes, a bit scrawny and a total geek. Now understand, it took me a while to notice everything but the geek part. He and I became fast friends.

I don't have time to develop the story of our budding romance but the CliffsNotes version goes a bit like this. Brandon and I went on a few dates and I always enjoyed the time I spent with him. He would often drive my roommate and me to church and other locations as needed and we talked -- the usual university student, campus ministry stuff.

One night as I was spending time with my friend, Lori (yep, name changed), she asked the question that changed everything, "How long have you liked Brandon?"

I think I managed the very intelligent "Huh?" as my answer. I was shocked, a bit lost, a lot confused and felt the sudden urge to exit a moving vehicle. Then I managed to laugh.

"I'm very serious," she said, responding to my unspoken question. "It's obvious the way you look at him when you two talk, and come on, how many times has he asked you out now and you say 'yes' every time?" I continued to deny but became more uncomfortable with each denial although I didn't understand why. "Deny all you want girl but you like him."

Six months later I admitted defeat. I don’t remember the exact circumstance but I was aware the idea of him with another girl didn’t work for me. And if you think six months is a long time, it took him more than a year after that to understand how he felt about me. We were both rather clueless. We met in the summer of 1995, and on the last day of 1997, Brandon finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

As the story goes we had something special in my humble opinion. Initially some were shocked at our pairing; we are two very different people. And thank God we already had a great friendship because we needed that foundation. I was young and stupid; I did and said crazy stuff and if I didn’t know better I would say I was a terrible girlfriend, but I do know better. We had a lot of fun together, learned about life, leadership, and I know I came to understand the importance of someone else’s dreams, (good) expectations and feelings. I was challenged by him to allow myself to be more feminine — he wanted others to see that side of me.

In the midst of all that, I think it's called growing up, something amazing happened – I fell in love. I loved him so much, I didn't understand it and I definitely wasn't expecting it. Before you call me names, understand I was only 21 and very career- and ministry-oriented. Falling in love that young with my first adult boyfriend after only nine months was nowhere in my day planner, scheduler or plan before graduation. I actually wanted to marry him and yes it was another friend who pulled that truth out of me.

I didn't know whether to be happy or cry. I was back in that odd place of shock, a bit lost and a lot confused. There were so many other things going on at that time too. School was very difficult, and for the first time in years I was dealing with temper issues that I was sure I had mastered. Some of my friends were afraid of me. I was moving from one small group to another at church, attempting to settle in somewhere, I was working and I began to perform poorly in school. I began to see a counselor and take medication; depression had set in.

Shortly after my confession of wanting to be Mrs. Brandon Norman I broke up with him. I was afraid to lose him because of all of the craziness that was going on in my life. I didn’t consciously end it as a preemptive strike, but somewhere inside I feared he would leave me like some of my other friends. I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it so in a moment of intense anger I ended it.

Unfortunately there were people around and it was ugly. I hated myself even more and questioned my sanity. The next few months were dark and troubling. I felt as though I was losing my mind and my friends. Not just anybody either, my brothers and sisters from church. This was scary; I was afraid of who I'd become and didn't understand what was going on inside me.

Within a few months some of my friends began to marry, and those who were already married began having babies. I wasn't jealous, I just had the desire to participate in the fun and games, too, but felt as though I destroyed my chance. I lost my closest friend, Brandon, and I was the third wheel with other friends. I was depressed, felt alone and I was terribly uncomfortable.

One week after my best friend's wedding (seven months post break-up) I was in the computer lab working on a paper for history of interior design or some such when I looked up just as Alex walked in. He smiled, that one that melted my teen-aged heart so many times and made his way over to a terminal near me. I politely smiled back and made small talk. After all, we were old friends.

This wasn't our first meeting. He transferred to UTA during our sophomore year, prior to Brandon and I dating. We saw each other near the Activities Building one day and that was about it. I went to a movie with him for his birthday, but other than that I stayed away from him. A friend suggested I not get close just to be on the safe side. She said it may seem cruel but I would later understand that it was for the best.

So as we sat there talking, my personal emergency warning system was going crazy. Every sign of trouble was blinking and telling me to keep it light and go back to my paper. I think I even made a slight attempt to do so. But it was late and I was tired and uncomfortable with my state in life, and he represented a memory of comfort.

Any time he stepped away I agreed to keep an eye on his things and any time I walked away I know what he was keeping his eye on. I don't know when exactly I learned the rules of seduction but here I was playing this game like a pro. At some point I gathered my things and headed home but a seed had already been planted in me. Again I think I tried to resist but it wasn’t a real fight.

I saw him again the next night at the lab. Nothing happened, we worked diligently and went our separate ways. The next Friday, even without communicating we were at the lab at the same time. When I turned and said goodnight he leaned in and kissed me. Just a quick one on the cheek and another soft one on the lips.

The sirens were wailing in my head and I heard the warnings: “Stop!” “What are you doing?” “He is not who you want!” “This is dangerous!” But I smiled and winked as I walked away letting him know I understood what he had not said.

Saturday night my roommates went off to work and I was back in the lab grateful they wouldn’t notice my absence. I had no intention of going home because I was searching for the comfort I was so desperate for.

I knew it wasn't real. I knew I didn't have any feelings for Alex and I knew what he wanted to feel, but I didn't care. What happened to my unwavering commitment to God? Where was my resolve to remain pure and faithful in the face of temptation? At that moment all the pain and shame I felt for my failings left me almost desensitized.

I was facing challenges in my life without trusting God. I was caught up in the lie that I was a failure and only able to hurt the ones I loved. I was grieving over my poor choices. On the stage of reality the script didn’t play out the way I'd always imagined and I was ready for a rewrite.

So that night I was in Alex's apartment where this story began. Believe it or not, we did not consummate the relationship that we didn’t have. I am not proud of what did happen that night or the days prior to it. But even in that place of compromised discomfort I couldn’t go through with it. As much as I physically desired to have him fully, I couldn’t overcome the spiritual and emotional implications. But at the end of the day I was definitely willing to compromise for the sake of my own comfort.

Afterword
This is the end of the history section. The final part will discuss what I learned and why I decided to share this. Thank you for your extra time this week.