Five Promises for 2014,

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I sit here and type my last post for 2013, I sit and reflect.  This year hasn't been the greatest for me.  I've become lazy, unmotivated, and my demons are coming back.  I had an amazing internship possibly slip out of my fingers, my grandmother passed away before Christmas, and I've been given a death sentence.  But you know, at the same time, I've achieved so much.  A promotion.  A raise.  Getting over my anxiety (for the most part), and you know, that's something to be happy for.

I don't do "new year's resolutions" because, like most people, I commit for a week and go back to what I was doing before.  But this year, I am trying my best to fulfill these promises I'm making to myself.  Maybe you can join me.

1. Become more optimistic - I may seem like a positive person, but in reality, I sit in my room and beat myself up over every little thing I've never done or am not motivated enough to do.  Instead of beating myself up over things, I want to become that person that sees a little bit of light in bad times, even the ones I'm dealing with right now.
2. Get healthy - I know this is one that is the most broken resolution, but I'm setting the bar lower than I ever have before.  Instead of saying I need to go to the gym five days a week and eat nothing but fruit and air, I want to start at least once a week.  One day of the week eating yummy, healthy food and exercising.  Then two.  Then three.  I've noticed that when I'm thrown into a brand new routine, I tend to break it almost immediately, whether it's good for me or not.  But each person is different.  If you can work out five days a week and juice everything for a week, you go for it!  I'm just someone that needs to be introduced to something gradually, and that's okay!
3. Call family more - When my grandma passed away, I would call her every other month to see how she was doing.  No one else.  No uncles, aunts, brothers.  I didn't call her before she passed away on the 23rd, and there's a part of me that still feels guilty, though I've been told a million times that I shouldn't.  I want to be able to get to know more of my family this year, even if it means just leaving a message and letting them know I was thinking of them.  I know that phone calls mean a lot to me; maybe calling them more than once every other month will mean something to them.
4. Be the boss of your time - I'm a fan of the show Doctor Who, and my favorite Doctor, Matt Smith, has said a few quotes in his tenure as the raggedy man that I thought I would share with you:

"I am and always will be the optimist.  The hoper of far-flung hopes, the dreamer of improbable dreams.  You see, every life is a pile of good things and bad things.  The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don't always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.  No matter what, make today extraordinary."

I don't want to settle for the mundane life I have let myself live in 2013.  I want to travel, see the world.  Touch the clouds and the bottom of the oceans.  Go to concerts and climb mountains and take jobs I never thought I could.  Take time for myself and for my friends.  I want to run towards things, not away, before the fade away forever.  I'm a sick 20-year-old who's hardly lived because of fear and anxiety.  My life is very finite at this point.  I want to experience it before I can't anymore. 

     5.  Tell people I love them more - No explanation.  It's as simple as that.

Starting the first, I'll accomplish something I've been dreading for months:  taking my progesterone.  And for those of you who know what progesterone does, this could mean an easy 2014 or a year from hell.  So here's to 2014.  Whether you suck donkey teeth or are the best year of my life, I'm ready to experience you.  Tomorrow is page one of a brand new 365-page saga.  Time to write something good, huh?

Seeing Jesus at Target,

I work in retail, and for those of you who work in places that have to do with last-minute Christmas shoppers, you know how most people are at this time:  frantic, angry, depressed.  I've had people scream and curse at me over toys from as expensive as a Zoomer dog to as cheap as a common game of Candyland.  I've had people say their Christmas was ruined because their coffee was too hot or had too much hazelnut syrup in it. I've had people call me rude names because the wait time at the registers is way too long.  People have been very angry and mean this year over simple things, and it really has put a damper on my "Christmas spirit".

But when I thought my Christmas spirit was actually put to bed, kindness came out of the woodwork.  Compassion.  Love.

I watched small children put away their Pokemon cards and dig through their tiny pockets for all their birthday money to help a single mother buy the rest of her groceries.  I watched a woman leave $20 for a young couple so they didn't have to worry about buying their coffee and lunch for the day.  I heard stories of a kind man buying a $30 gift card so a grandmother could finish buying all the toys she needed for her grandchildren.  A gentleman even helped me carry a heavy box to a woman, then took it out to her car, all because "this is what the spirit of Christmas is all about".

And I believe this is what the spirit of Christmas is all about.  Not presents.  Not who got the better game console or who got the bigger TV.  Christmas is all about loving others.  Helping each other when we struggle and being a light to those who can't seem to see it.

Be Jesus.  And if you don't believe in Jesus, that's fine.  Be a positive light this Christmas.

Music Monday,

Oops! Realized I haven't done one of these in a while, so I thought I'd update y'all on some of the music I've been listening to!

1.  Childish Gambino - 3005

If y'all don't know Childish Gambino, you'd better get acquainted.  A past writer for 30 Rock, a talented comedian, ex-quarterback Troy Barnes on "Community", and rapper with the moniker Childish Gambino, formed by using a Wu Tang Clan name generator.  This kid is talented... remember the name. He'll be big.

2.  Michaelf Buble's entire Christmas album

Have you heard this thing?  Like, Michael could sing the McDonald's menu and I'd be dead.

On Body Image and (Attempting) Positive Thinking,

“There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” ~Steve Mariboli

Out of everyone that has ever said a critical thing about my body, I can say that I am the most critical person in the world about it.  We are told to love the creation the Lord has made, but every day, I watch my body tear at the skin, falling apart and slowly be destroyed by the illnesses I am battling.

82 may be a number that doesn't mean anything to anyone, but 82 is the number that looms over my head every day. 82 is the number of stretch marks I can count on my body right now, as I sit here and type this out... and that number continues to grow.  82 stretch marks have formed on my body in the past four years, as my belly enlarges and my cheeks fill out.  82 stretch marks have grown as I stuffed my face with the comfort foods I thought would make me feel content with my diagnosis, but ended up destroying me more than I thought and forming another addiction.

I know this body isn't the most beautiful.  I look at it every day and cry as I wonder why I had to have the disease I have.  My legs are short and stubby, my thighs and calf muscles getting larger by the day.  My belly is protruding outward as I pollute it with the things I know aren't good for me, but I convince myself that just one more cookie will make me happy.  One more french fry will satisfy my sadness.  One more piece will be okay.  Just one more.  My face is filling in with the fat that won't fit on my body.  My hair is falling out.  My boobs are gross and discolored underneath by my Stein-Leventhal.  My butt is just this flabby thing and it's not even cute.  I just find my entire body to be this gross sack of disgusting that I happen to have to carry around for the rest of my life.

I feel like society has made me turn my body into this petri dish under a microscope, where I sit and examine every single crack and crevasse that seems abnormal to the 'average' person.  But is the average person really the thing we should be striving for?  We see the 'average woman' as something in a magazine:  tall, long, thick hair, thin, perfect curves, flawless skin, and not a blemish on her.  These were women I would cut out of various magazines and tape onto my mirror and bedroom walls in high school, striving to have my hair like them, my makeup like theirs, be thin and beautiful just like them.  I was already letting media corrupt my brain and make me think that these women were the body image I should be striving for:  something unhealthy and unreal.

It's one of the hardest things I do in my day, but I have to convince myself every day that I am a beautiful creation.  Whether I write it over and over again in a notebook until I go insane or I write something on the back of my hand so I always see it, I have to convince myself that I am truly beautiful.  Not because of a magazine, or a boy, or anything but because I want to.  I want to be able to look at myself and, even when I am unable to lose this weight or when I'm holding a pile of my hair in my hand, say that I am a beautiful person.   My discolored skin patches and scars and uncontrollable weight and stretch marks aren't going to change that.  What does change it is your state of mind.

When we immerse ourselves in positive thinking, we outwardly express positive words.  It's seriously the hardest thing to do, though, when we live in a society full of pessimism, anger, and sadness.  I have to wake up every morning, stare in the mirror for a few minutes, and find one thing about myself that I like.  And it always has to be different.  I can't say that I like my hair two days in a row; that'd be cheating.  Besides, if I only focus on one thing that I like, I'm going to miss tons of other things I could grow to love!  I sit and read the small pieces of paper I've taped onto my vanity over and over, like a first-grader trying to memorize simple vocabulary.

"You are altogether beautiful, my love. There is no flaw in you." ~Song of Solomon 4:7

"I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it too well." ~Psalms 139:14

"I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys." ~Song of Solomon 12:1

I'll write it on my hands and in notebooks when I'm feeling down at work or hanging out with friends, or when those feelings and life in general just catches up on me.  When I get that bad diagnosis and all I wanna do is build a blanket fort and eat a bag of chicken nuggets in it.  When I feel like I can't get out of bed or when big crowds just aren't my thing.  When I feel alone or when I feel worthless.  When I slip up and don't know how to explain.

I am courageous.  I am strong.  I am brave.  I am beautiful.  I am human.

And though it may look stupid, at the end of the day, when I'm all alone in my room, just me and my thoughts... what comes up sometimes are these verses and sayings I force myself to recite every day.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made... there is no flaw in me... I am courageous... I am a rose of Sharon... I am beautiful...

I've had to learn that we have to literally train our minds to think something different than what we've learned to think for so long.  Trust me, it's hard.  I have many days where I sit and think of how gross my belly is, or how no one will ever love me because of my size.  Thinking positively about yourself is one of the hardest battles you will involve yourself with in your entire lifetime on this Earth, but when you are able to speak life over yourself instead of death, I can tell you those days are worth it.

Thanksgiving,

“Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough.” - Oprah Winfrey

Right now, it's 4pm.  I'm in my pajamas, my legs are sore from a football game from last night, my throat is scratchy, and Thanksgiving dinner is in about two hours.  Yes, it's late, but thanks to a guy who works second shift called "dad", we have to wait.

The past month, I've been seeing a ton of people writing statuses as to what they're thankful for.  A few people asked me to do it, but all I could think was, "Why are we spending a month thinking of one thing each day that we're thankful for... when we could do it every day of our lives?"  So I happily declined the offer and decided to make it one big blog post on Thanksgiving day.

I don't think I ever really sit down and think of what I am thankful for.  Because this is usually how I, and maybe a lot of others, see things:  I'm an average human being living an average life in the United States of America with an average job and an average family and an average personality. But today, I want to shift my mind off that "average" mindset.

Sure, I have an average life.  My mom and stepdad are alive and working. They have their share of health problems, like me, but they're still kicking and trying their best to give my brother and I the best life they can.  

I have an average brother, who likes to close himself in his room and play COD all day.  But when he comes out and isn't too grumpy, we'll have nice conversation and he may even offer me a Kit-Kat or two. That's pretty cool.  

I've got average aunts who help me get around to doctor's appointments and to-and-from work and teach me to drive and to parties and church.  

I have average friends who come from all kinds of different worlds and backgrounds, who love me and accept me for who I am, from my weird laugh to times when I struggle and I'm not myself.  They encourage me to do things I would never think I could and support me no matter what the situation.  That's pretty cool, too.

I have an average job where I also work with average people and deal with average things.  My job isn't the greatest thing in the world, but in the past few months, the people have been what make it worthwhile.

I wasn't blessed with the greatest health, but I have two eyes and a nose and ten fingers and ten toes. I have a heart that beats so loud and works so hard sometimes, that I can hear it and feel it in my ears. I can smell yummy foods and candles whenever I want.  I can touch things and listen to my favorite music and run outside and even just look outside and enjoy the view from my bedroom morning of the sun setting, like the sky has turned into this beautiful, harmless ball of fire.  And though my body may be failing and doing things I don't understand, that is pretty cool.

I have a not-so-average God who wakes me up every morning and grants me life and salvation from the moment I open my eyes to when I go to sleep and even while I dream of crazy things and the future, the life and salvation is still there.

In the end, when you take all these small things you realize you're thankful for, it turns into something extraordinary.  You can't build an entire building without having little things, like beams and screws, putting it together.  A train can't get to it's destination without all the tracks leading it there.  So my life and things I've been blessed with aren't that average, but rather, pretty remarkable.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. :)

A Short Blog Post about the Future,

It's kind of disheartening and at the same time encouraging that one year ago, Jonnie from The Buried Life saw my graphic design portfolio and ultimately offered me a year internship on the spot.  Sure, I don't have the internship at this moment, nor is my work anything spectacular or noteworthy, just average.  But it keeps me motivated to get better everyday and hopefully work for these guys.  If I had potential a year ago, with a portfolio of two weeks worth of work, imagine me going in with a portfolio with a year's work.  Though the future is scary, I'm real excited for it at the same time.

It's Time to Let Go,

"We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." ~Joseph Campbell

I'm not one of those people who vents.  Usually, I'm the type that keeps everything to myself and, when completely boiled over, lets everything out in a smashing rage and leaves nothing but a valley in my path.  But this is something I never let out. Something I've come to realize is probably time to let go of, and I can't let go of it until I talk about it.  Yes, it's about a boy.  Yes, it's about a love I believe would happen, but have come to realize probably never will.  And yes, it's something that will take time and commitment to let go of.

So this is what this is for.  It's a letter I'm writing to this gentleman to say goodbye to my feelings towards him.  Because I have a strong feeling that they are not reciprocated or acknowledged, and because of the situation the both of us are in, it's really not the best decision for me to keep pursuing it.

I've known this particular guy for a few years, but those little butterfly-feelings started coming around about a few months ago. We'll call him Esteban, because I don't know any Esteban's, other than Esteban from "The Suite Life", but he doesn't count because I don't know him personally.  But anyways, back to the story.  Esteban and I are very similar in just about everything.  It's actually kind of scary, to be honest.  When my dad had a stroke a few months ago, he was the first person I consoled to, and that's really what started making our friendship stronger than ever.  He and I opened up about our pasts, telling each other who we were and the things we've done.  The adventures we've been on in life, the heartbreaks we've had, and the transformations we've experienced.  He's even told me I know more about him than most of his friends and potential love interests, and that's a huge honor to have with someone.  Eventually, I started over-thinking things and thought he actually liked me.

And then the big kicker:  he then asked me to help him find a girlfriend.  As he went off on his list, he kept asking questions about me.  All I could think was... why is he asking me these things?  Why does he want to know if I have a good relationship with my family?  Why does he want to know what kind of sports I've done?  And again, I over-thought things, drawing the conclusion that he was secretly asking about me because he liked me.  But the more we saw each other, the more he'd ask me about other girls.  Is she pretty?  Is she right for me?  Carly, do you think she is the one?  Of course I would tell him to talk to the girl and give it a chance, but inside, all I wanted to do was grab his shoulders, shake him, make him look me in the eyes, and yell, "HEY ESTEBAN, WHAT ABOUT ME?"

The truth is, no matter how hard I try, it'll never be me.

I had this dream last night that really inspired me to write this out.  I was a deer trying to cross an empty road to the woods.  As I walked, a car came by and I stopped in my tracks, staring at the car's headlights, so dazzled and infatuated with the view.  Every time I try to achieve something, I'm like a deer in the headlights, losing focus on the goal and averting my gaze to something that'll hurt me in the end:  you.

So Esteban, I know that even though you're calling me pretty, you do it to make me feel good, not because you really mean it.  I know that those talks we have are because you want to get things off your chest and I'm the one there, not so that I can get to know you personally.  I know that your hugs, hand holding and kind words were just kind gestures, not signs of infatuation.  And I'm sorry that that was how I saw it the past few months, and if you ever find this during your travels on the Internet, if someone shows you, or if I have the guts to present this to you in the future, I really hope you understand and forgive me afterwards.  I can't keep having these sleepless nights, wondering what you think of me... in the words of my friend, Mike Ballz, "Fantasize about us living in paradise, in a warm place where we never really die".

I've been sitting here for the past eight hours, trying to compile my thoughts into words, words into sentences.  And hopefully this is the last time I ever touch this.  So, until these feelings are mutual (which they probably never will), I have to let you go.  Put these feelings, dreams, aspirations, thoughts... all in a box and put them away for good. It's going to be tough.  It's not like I see you only once a week or month.  I see you more than that.  Three, four times a week.  Sometimes every day of the week.  But I can't keep torturing myself with false hope and aspirations with someone that doesn't want to be a part of it.

With being sick, I don't want to waste my time with someone that is steering me the wrong way.  I literally do not have time to mess around and joke about life.  And ironically, I've spent eight hours of my precious time writing about someone who I say I don't have time to be hung up on.  It's time to build relationships with others, not just you.  It's time to put myself out there for people and show them the best I can be, not put myself out there for you and show you the best I can be.  It's time to move on.

Musings at 3am,

A few weeks ago, I confessed to a guy I had been talking to for a few weeks that I had feelings for him.  If you know me, this is one of the hardest things I can do with anyone.  I have these spasms of anxiety every now and then that like to come back and haunt me with tongue-tied words, awkward sweating, and absolutely no eye contact.  And yes, as you would figure, the guy rejected me, like they all do.  But it was the way he rejected me that struck a cord.

When I told him, all he did was look at me and say, "You're one of the nicest girls I know and your personality is spot on, but you don't have the look I'm looking for."  The look.  Excuse me?

No, I'm not tall or blonde or blue eyed or tan.  The gene pool didn't really work in my favor in that department.  My upper lip isn't as full as my lower lip and my teeth are fucked up and my nose looks like the nose on your grandmother's old Santa ornaments she puts on her tree on Christmas.  I'm probably the largest 5'1'' girl you've ever seen, but I really can't help that either, since... well, I'm probably dying of some fucking cancer or some other unknown disorder my doctors don't know anything about.  I would've rather have been told that I was way too fat for him than to be told that I didn't have "the look".

I feel like I run into this problem a lot.  That because of my size, I'm 'undateable'.  And if that is the only problem with me and why I've been single for the past 5+ years, then I'm never going to find anyone at this rate.

Another thing:  I am such a hypocrite with this, but I'm sick and tired of people telling me that "good things come to people who wait".  Excuse me, I've been waiting for over five years to be a skinny, beautiful woman with no irregularities about her and who men find to be this absolutely beautiful creature sent from the Heavens.  I've been waiting for over five years too look like a normal fucking human being, and that obviously is never going to come for me.  No matter how hard I pray, no matter how tough my exterior is, no matter how many friends I make or how much community service I do or how many times my doctors make me not eat, I will never look normal.  I'm always going to have these stretch marks, and they're only going to get larger.  I'm always going to look like this, and I'm only going to get bigger.  No one will love me for me because my Stein Leventhal is getting in the fucking way and I'm so sick and tired of being alone.

All I want is for someone to make me feel beautiful and special.  For just one night.  Take me to a light dinner.  Let's take a stroll in the park at night.  Look at the stars.  Just him and I.  Hold my hand and dance with me under the stars.  Make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

But this probably will never happen.  Because I'm me, and nothing good ever happens with me.

Music Monday,

I've been behind on my blogging game, but I'm here for Music Monday!  It'll be a quick one, since I've been listening to the same few bands this week.  This week, we're going a little more on the mainstream side.

1.  "Girls/Girls/Boys" by Panic! at the Disco

Mmm... Brendon Urie.  Even more mmm?  Naked Brendon Urie.  I'm really liking the new sound P!ATD is playing with on this new album.  This is honestly more of my music taste, and I love it.  Check out his homage to D'Angelo's classic 'stripped' video.

2.  "Kiss Me Slowly" by Parachute

Parachute is probably one of my favorite bands out there... ever.  And this song is probably one of their most popular songs, right below their debut single, "She is Love".  Even though the song is co-written by Lady Antebellum (and I hate Lady Antebellum), this song is probably one of the best songs they've written on all three albums.  Check it out, and maybe they'll become your favorite band, too.

3.  "Heartbreaker" by Justin Bieber

"WOAH CARLY WHAT IS THIS CRAP YOU HATE JUSTIN BIEBER."  Yes, but...

a. This song is absolutely beautiful.

b.  I still don't like Justin Bieber.  Just this song.

c.  If you don't like that I like this song, you can swerve to another blog.

But hey, if you don't wanna be judgmental and not judge this douchebag for all the idiotic things he does and actually check out this song, go for it.

Change,

"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance." ~Alan Watts

It's crazy to think how much a person can change in a period of time.  Whether it be from their hairstyles and clothing choices, to where the place their faith or their general attitude.  A few years ago, after my friend's suicide, my high school placed me under intensive therapy during hours because of me lashing out and becoming extremely depressed and anxious my senior year... along with telling my assistant principal that I was seeing my friend in the hallways covered in blood, but hey... that's not an issue, right?

I was originally going to write this post about a dream that I had and draw a nice picture of it on one of my drawing pads, but when cleaning out my closet, I found my old journal from said intensive therapy.  Flipping through it, I realized that though I was coming off as normal to my peers and teachers (well, for the most part), I was one messed up seventeen year old.  I'm going to put some excerpts below.  And I'm warning/reminding you:  this stuff was from two or more years ago.  I do not feel these intense feelings anymore.  Grant it, they do come back sometimes, but not in the way they did at this time.  And it's pretty sad that I was thinking/writing these things right before my 18th birthday.

The assignment I had from my therapist was to take a week and essentially write to my dead friend, Shane.  So during this week, that's all I did.  And these are the results.  Take a look.  I'll only provide with some of the journal entry, because it does get pretty explicit and vulgar with the language, but it's actually pretty interesting.

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April 18-19, 2011

Shane,

A few days ago, my therapist gave me this worksheet to do so I could "communicate" with you and express my feelings.  Like that's gonna f***ing work.  It's not like I'm gonna fill out some goddamn paper and *poof*, there you are to tell me everything's going to be okay.  Because it's not.  And it's never going to be.  But I'm still going to do this stupid paper, so that my therapist doesn't write me as "clinically insane" and I can possibly graduate a decent human being.

I remember one of the questions being about song lyrics that reminded me of you.  Well, that's a little hard because all you listened to was country, and you know I avoid that s**t like the black plague.  The only thing I could think of was that one song that kept playing on your slideshow.  It was some Sarah MacLaclan song, and the only reason why I remember was because it's always on those ridiculous ASPCA commercials you used to make fun of.  What irony.  You don't understand.  I looked right at your body that day right when that song came on.  I wanted to scream and tell you to get up... the joke was over and you could get up, but you never did.  I PLEADED WITH THE LORD IN MY HEAD FOR YOU TO COME BACK AND YOU NEVER DID.  I wanna see you, not hear some stupid, sappy f***ing songs that remind me of you or pictures or videos that remind me of you.  I don't want reminders.  I want you.  I wanna hear your voice, you laugh... I'm starting to forget what you sound like and it scares me to f***ing death how much I will remember of you in the next year.  You'll never understand what we have to go through.

You make me feel so guilty.  You being so selfish and taking your life has given me so much guilt.  Why did you send me that f***ing text?!  You never should've sent me that... maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty.  You should've just done it and not told anyone, especially me.  I probably would feel a little guilty because I never saw that side of you, but you gave me an opportunity at two in the goddamn morning to save you and I never took it.  I hate myself everyday.  I hate it when I wake up in the morning and you're not here for me to call or text or message on Facebook or see at church... hell, you're not available to do anything because you're f***ing dead!

Every day, I see you in the hallways.  Covered in blood.  Screaming.  Telling me it was my fault.  I wake up every day and want to end my life.  I can't take this anymore.  If I was brave enough, I would probably do the same thing you did.  But how wimpy am I to not do it, huh?  At least you don't have to experience everything afterwards.  

I got my acceptance letter for Edinboro on April Fool's Day, and to be honest, joke's on them because I don't even wanna go anymore.  I know you wanted to go there with me and now the thought sickens me.

Every morning is the same routine.  I wake up with a struggle, knowing you won't be there.  I put on your bracelets again, look at your name, and think, "Could I have saved you?  Could I have done something to save you so you'd still be here?  Could I have done anything?"  And the answer is always the same.  No.

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Less than two months after this entry, I did something my guidance counselor told me I'd never do because of my behavior:  I graduated in the top third of my graduating class, almost hitting the honor roll.  I didn't get to go to school, but I got my first job (ironically at the place he was working when he died) and have met the most wonderful and supportive people there.  I made new friends, something I thought I'd never do.  I've become an activist for suicide and depression awareness and support.  

I'm not one hundred percent happy or over Shane's suicide.  These things take time.  But I'm happier than I was.  And that's the most important thing.

If you're ever feeling the way I was in that journal entry, or have a friend/loved one feeling that way, here are some resources you can use to get better.  Don't be afraid to take the first step.  That's the most important one.

~Carly

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National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:  

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ or 1-800-273-TALK

Hopeline:

http://hopeline.com/ or 1-800-442-HOPE

Other options:

• There should be a list of local suicide hotlines in your local telephone book.
• Dial 411 and ask for a local suicide hotline.
• Dial 0 and ask for a local suicide hotline.
• Call 911.  Tell them you are in suicidal danger.  They will help.

Don't be afraid to ask for help.

Music Monday,

I think I'm gonna start sharing some of my favorite songs on Mondays. I listen to a lot of different music, and sometimes, a person's playlist can show you who they are.  So here are three songs I've been loving the past week.

1. "No Name" by Ryan O'Shaughnessy

This guy was on "Britain's Got Talent" and auditioned with this song... and it's been one of those songs I've put on repeat.  A boy with his guitar and some sweet words is all I need to be reeled in.

                                 

2.  "Better When You're Gone" by Luke Conard

Oh, Luke Conard. I've been watching this guy on YouTube for a pretty long time.  Though this 32-year-old has a baby face worthy for a teenager, this guy can bolt out an amazing song full of angst and I love it.

3. "Look at me Now" and "Seventeen" by Charlie Puth

You can probably tell by now that I like independent artist.  But anyways, Charlie is probably one of the most hardworking artists I've ever seen. A full-time college student at Berkeley, talented musician, and after losing his cousin last year, used his tragedy as a creative element to make some of the best content he's had in a while. Check him out... you won't regret it. 

                               

A Short Post About Love,

Sometimes, I feel like love has become superficial. One sided. Critical. Love is not something that can be thrown around like a ratty rag doll that should go to waste. Love isn't achieved when reaching a finish line or checking off all the opposite person's requirements.

Love is when you accept someone with all their imperfections, stupidities, and ugly points, and still see their perfection whilst knowing of their imperfections.

Fear,

"Love is what we were born with.  Fear is what we learned here." ~Marianne Williamson

When I was younger, I was always taught to be fearless.  Carly, don't be scared of the snake in the bushes.  Don't be scared of falling off your bike.  Don't be scared of the old man across the street.  You'll be okay.

In school, when I was starting to get bullied by all the kids in some of my classes, my teachers would pull me aside and tell me, Carly, don't be scared of these bullies.  They can't hurt you.  You'll be okay.

The day before graduation, my criminal justice teacher, who became a huge mentor for me in high school, told me, Carly, don't be scared of what happens next.  Be excited! I know you'll be okay.

But this one is different.  Being told that your body is doing things that not even your doctors understand, that there's something floating in your blood stream and your uterus and ovaries and heart and bones and there's no way to get it out is probably the scariest thing to ever experience.  And the worst part?  They don't tell you you'll be okay.  They tell you you're going to die.  If not from Type 2 diabetes, then blood cancer, or ovarian cancer, or uterine cancer, or your body fighting the medicine that's trying to help you get better and making me blow up like a little fat bag and dying as a fat, disgusting lard.  I am a ticking time bomb.  I don't know when something else is going to go wrong.  I'm scared out of my mind and I've never been this scared in my entire life.

The Problem With Stein-Leventhal,

"Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it so seriously." ~Hunter S. Thompson

So yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment regarding the progress of my Stein-Leventhal.  I'm just gonna come clean with y'all and say that it definitely wasn't the news I was looking for.  I haven't gotten any better since last year, only worse.  But I know that I have an awesome team.  I have a doctor solely specializing in natural treatments and supplements.  I have a primary care physician who's been with me all my life.  I have finally come to realize that there are many people in my life that would back me up in a heartbeat. I've got Jesus Christ, who looks fear in the face and swats it away like it's a little fly.  Stein-Leventhal may have won the fight today, but in the end, I will win the war.  Mark my words.

Loving with the Eyes vs. Loving with the Heart,

"The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." ~Helen Keller

This morning, I got to talking to one of the many girls I meet on a weekly basis at the local young adults ministry I attend.  She always messages me on Facebook, and though most people find it annoying to get the same "Hello" every other hour, I'm happy to know that she finds me as a good friend and is comfortable with doing that.  Our conversation ended up being about one of her pictures of her and a young man that I thought was her boyfriend, though, and then she said this:  Tell me what he looks like.  This girl, though blind, has had this young man as her boyfriend for almost two years (I found this after creeping on her Facebook a little bit... don't judge! You do it too!) and doesn't even know what he looks like!

When we find a person that we want to spend the rest of our lives with, it seems like we have a checklist of things that that person has to meet or else they aren't fit.  And sometimes, though not of personality traits, they turn into those superficial things we want:  blonde or brunette.  Brown eyes or blue eyes.  Short or tall.  They're things that we see visually that we find pleasing.  And though those things are important, shouldn't we focus on who that person is rather than how they look?  I mean, I'd rather date a radish that clicked with my personality than a super hot, Jake Gyllenhaal-esque Norse God from the Heavens and him end up being a cowsack of suck.

I have a friend that means a lot to me that asked me once to help him "find a girlfriend".  Eventually, he opened up to me as to what he wanted in this said girlfriend.  Here's a few that I remember:  short, smart, athletic, Christian, stable relationships with her family and friends, no daddy issues, and she HAS to be pretty... just to name a few.  Talk about huge checklist of things these girls are going to have to compete with.  And yes, he's a great guy, but what a list!  As wonderful as he is, I don't think any girl reading this right now could check every single one of these things off their list.  If he keeps being this picky, how will he know if someone he could have a connection with passes him by?  And the answer?  He won't.  Why?

I believe sometimes, when showing someone love or even showing interest in someone, we should love with the heart, not with our eyes.  Our eyes can sometimes be deceiving.  Though someone may have a pretty face, they might not have the most beautiful of hearts.  Once we can see the true goodness in people with our hearts, I think even the pickiest of people can find love in everyone.

The eyes were meant for sight, but the heart was made for love.

My Buddies Stein and Leventhal,

"When something bad happens, you have three choices:  you can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or let it strengthen you." ~Anonymous

So if you haven't heard (heard the word), I've got two buddies named Stein and Leventhal. Stein and Leventhal have been with me for a few years now... let's just say October of 2009. So these two goons have been up my butt for about four years now, which is crazy to think about.  They've been with me through hook ups and break ups, school essays and reports, graduations, interviews, and college enrollments. They've been a part of my life for a very long time, and I can't really remember high school without them.

Now I know Stein and Leventhal seem like great guys, but they really aren't.  They cause me a lot of pain and sadness every single day, despite always being around.  Because of them, a lot of things in my life have been affected, like my appearance, menstrual cycle, hormones, and ability to have children. I want little munchkins in the next ten years or so, but Stein and Leventhal have said, "Carly, we don't want that for you! We want to be the only things you are concerned about! Why have children when you have us?! And you can also be fat and ugly and alone for the rest of your life while we laugh at everything you're insecure about! Yay!"  How about I get the cute kiddos and they can go away.  Maybe I'd be a little happier.

And with Stein and Leventhal around, my ovaries are even taking a beating! Instead of fully forming and having a period, my ovaries are just turning into little cyst bags or something like that. I bet at this very moment, you're imagining a beautiful picture of two cyst bags in my uterus. So cute.

There are only two things that really bother me about this relationship I have with Stein and Leventhal.

1. I don't know when they showed up.
2. I don't think they'll ever leave.

I can't just find some Harry Potter-like invisibility cloak to throw over these nuisances. I can't buy two one-way tickets to Nigeria for them so that they never come back. When I was told that they were gonna be hanging around for a while, I was distraught. This is something I wouldn't wish on anybody.  But with the help of my true friends, family, and my team of Stein-Leventhal exterminators, I can at least put a blanket over their heads for a while and pretend they're not there.

Today will be the start of my fourth year with Stein and Leventhal at my side. This year, I don't want them to beat me. I want to beat them. They may win the fights, but I will win the war. 

New Experiences,

"Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have." -Louis E. Boone

Having a blog like this is a new experience for me. I mean, I've had a Tumblr for a few years, but I've come to realize that Tumblr-blogging is a lot different than actually sitting down and writing about myself.

I've always been told to write things down.  Funny dreams I come to think up in the middle of the night, how I feel when I hear rain beating on my windows, what I eat on a daily basis. And I think this would be a cool way to be able to share myself in a way I've never been able to before.  So if you're interested, pull up a chair, grab a hot chai or something else super delicious, and come along. I'd love for you to join me.

~Carly