Brighter Days

Well after the last few posts, everyone has been so loving and encouraging! People have been telling me how glad they are I opened up and shared my heart. So I figured I should keep going with it. Even if no one is reading it anymore, it’s still helping me J

It feels good to write again. It helps me gets my thoughts and emotions straight.

Every day is so different from the next. One day I feel like I have “pulled myself together” and the next day I feel like an emotional wreck.

Everyone goes through stages of grief after losing someone. At first, you go through the stages rather quickly.  Like a different emotion every day (or every hour..)

The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Not everyone goes through all of these exact stages, but I definitely experienced most of them.

I thought I was acting bipolar there for a while because I would be in a different mood so often. But I started to think about the grieving process and it made sense that there are so many emotions happening that you just can’t deal with it all.

As I mentioned before, about a week after losing my mom I thought I was okay and “coping.” That would be the denial coming through. But as the months went on, the stages of grief drew out. At some points I would feel anti-social, not wanting to talk to anyone, especially about my mom. Other days I was angry.

I can’t explain what I was angry at because I had no idea either. I guess I was just angry everything was changing so fast. I was angry at the people who had great moms.

(Of course it was actually insane jealousy, but I thought I was mad about it at the same time.) I never showed the anger but I definitely felt it. I was angry at God for doing this to my family. I knew it would happen someday… but why did it happen when I was in college? Obviously I am out of the house while in college but I feel like I need my mom more in college than in high school.

Other girls would tell me their complaints about their mom, like they were annoying or over-controlling. And sitting there, in my head I was fuming mad. They had their mom alive, yet they were still complaining. Don’t get me wrong. When my mom was alive, I got frustrated and annoyed with her just as much. But it’s hard to hear people complain about their mom when they still have one.. I wanted to shake them and say, “Just appreciate her!!” But I could relate to them as well because after being hurt by my mom so many times, I knew the frustration they were feeling.

Nowadays it doesn’t bother me to hear girls talk to their moms. Yes, I am jealous of course, but it makes me happy to see them have sweet and healthy relationships in their family. Every girl should have that.

I miss talking to moms a lot still. If I could sit and talk to a mom all day, it would be the best day on the planet. It never gets old. Give me ANY mom and I’ll sit there and talk to her like there’s no tomorrow. I think those are God’s little joys that He gives me because he knows I like it so much.

Some days I was genuinely happy my mom was in Heaven. I feel like she can see me more now than when she was alive. I talk to her in my car while I’m driving and tell her what I do everyday. Yes it sounds weird, but that’s when I feel closest to her. I wish I could hear her responses but I just imagine what she’d say.

Our joke was that she ALWAYS wanted me to have lip-gloss on. Any time I left the house, she would have to check to make sure it was on and colorful enough. And if she ever saw a picture on facebook when it wasn’t on, I would get a text from her about it if I wasn’t home. It used to drive me crazy cause I didn’t care if “you couldn’t see my lips,” but now I think about her every time I put it on.

Life has changed a lot now. I think that’s what I was least expecting. For everything to change so fast. We moved from our house in Plano because it had too many memories of my mom everywhere. We packed it up and moved out to McKinney. I was already at Baylor and rushing to be in a sorority. All my friends were changing and everything was different.

It was just my dad, Taylor and myself. And every time it would be the three of us, it was a reminder of who was missing. But as time passes, it’s starting to feel normal just having a family of three. But being the only girl and sharing a house with my dad and brother results in me being “out voted” in everything we do since I’m the only girl. I know if I spoke up enough they would listen to me, but I pick my battles and just let them go eat where they want.

So, needless to say, I am getting used to the guy movies, the fast food and making sure they both look appropriate and brushed their teeth. (Yes, no matter how old they get, you still have to remind them to wash their clothes and use deodorant.)

If anything, it is preparing me for when I live with my husband!

But day after day, I remind myself how blessed I am to have a loving brother, dad and extended family who continually love me and check on me every week. I am blessed and thankful for such amazing friends and a wonderful school. The things I dealt with in the past make me stronger and I rely on the Lord every step of the way. I cherish the times I have with my loved ones and don’t let a second of it go to waste.

Love you all,

Lauren

Gaining Strength

What I didn’t mention in the last blog post was I actually went to Zambia, Africa, after my trip to Italy. There is something in me that has a hard time talking about this trip because it was so personal to me.

My brother met me in Florence, Italy, the last week of my study abroad and we flew to Zambia straight from there. After a six week study abroad trip, I was extremely homesick and I was jealous that the rest of the group got to go back home to the states.

But I took the extremely long plane ride to Zambia to get my brain back on track with the Lord. I knew I was going to Africa to open up a house in honor of my mom in an orphanage, but that’s all I knew. I had no earthly idea what to expect. Taylor and I met up with my aunt and cousins in London and we all continued from there together.

The week consisted of playing with the sweet Zambian kids and fixing up the house for the kids that would be opened on the last day of the trip. Walking around the slums, I saw kids running around half naked and completely filthy. They would see us and scream “Mzungus!” while running at us. Mzungus mean ‘white people’ and they loved to just walk with us and hold our hand. I could tell they were desperate for love and affection.

We had been in the slums for at least an hour walking around and it hit me, my heart wasn’t breaking for these kids. I looked around and saw despair and a lack of joy in the moms’ eyes. The dads were already in the bars at 9 a.m. and had no intention of being around their family.

I was so mad and confused at myself that my heart felt like stone while holding a little girls’ hand right next to me. I don’t mean to sound like a heartless person, because believe me I had a huge place in my heart for those sweet kids. But at that moment, I was so scared of hurting that I had just built up the walls around my heart so I didn’t have to hurt anymore.

Granted, no one wants to feel pain. And after these past few years, I was so tired of hurting, but compared to the luxuries I get back in the states, why wouldn’t I let my guard down and let these sweet kids touch my heart?

I knew it would hurt to let myself feel again. I let myself become numb. I guess I thought I was protecting myself, but in turn, I was only causing myself more problems.

Believe me when I say it’s hard to knock down the walls you build up. Easy to say, nearly impossible to do. But during the week in Zambia, I told my cousin I would work on it. She encouraged me to let myself feel again, even if it was painful. I wanted to feel what it was like to see 12 kids from the slums move into the house that was in honor of my mom.

I knew she would’ve wanted that. She would want me to heal and process after she passed away.

I never got the chance to say bye to her. In some ways I know that was a blessing. I couldn’t imagine what that would have been like to say bye to the very person that raised you. I would have felt like my heart broke into a million pieces.

I had already started to let go of her when she was still alive just for my sanity. I still loved her as much as a daughter could possibly love her mother. But I knew there had to be some separation. I remember the day I had come to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be around much longer, and I think that day was harder than the day she actually passed away.

I thought I was awful for being somewhat relieved when she had gone to be in Heaven. It didn’t seem right for me to be happy for her, cause everything in my entire being wanted her to be back with me. I was still devastated, but why wouldn’t I want my mom to go be with her Savior, in a perfect body, where there would be no more sadness or temptation? Of course I wanted that for her.

I was still in shock about a week after the funeral, but I had actually tricked myself into thinking I would be alright with all of it because I wasn’t crying all that much. I guess I was just in “survival mode” trying to get everything done with the funeral arrangements and taking finals at Baylor.

But when everything settled down and everyone went back home after the funeral, that’s when I fell apart. I thought everyone was just going to forget about her. People still asked me if I was okay, but obviously there are no words to say. I was worried about my family. I didn’t just lose my mom. My dad lost his bride, my grandparents lost their sweet daughter and my aunt lost her sister. I was worried and hurting for them as well.

Some people back at school asked me how I could manage so well after losing her. To answer your question, I wouldn’t call it “managing.” I was barely getting through. My grades dropped the next semester and I couldn’t even listen or comprehend anything in class. I was just going through all the motions of life. I’m sure anyone who has lost a loved one could agree with me.

But as each semester passed, the days got easier. I was still going through the grieving process so there were some days I barely got through. But overall, I knew I was healing and it would take time. If it weren’t for my friends and family, I honestly don’t know where I’d be. I wasn’t always the most fun to be around on some days, but they loved me when I wasn’t very loveable. And for that I am more than grateful.

I wasn’t sulking around all day everyday being depressed, but there were some days I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom, and those were the days my friends and family stepped in the most.

My relationship with the Lord was strong way before my mom passed away, but it is on a new level now and He is the one that pulls me out of bed in the mornings. Every single person on this earth will let you down or disappoint you at some point. But the Lord never falls through. He’s there on the days you need Him most, and He’s still there on the days where he’s not on the forefront of your mind. Just keep trusting Him even in the dark times.

I know God has the most perfect plan for my life and my family’s life and we continue to rely on Him through everyday.

This is a verse my mom always loved and I always think about her when I read it.

“But those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
 they will walk and not be faint.”

–Isaiah 40:31

A tough two years

I started this blog while I was in Italy. I wanted to share the crazy travel experiences I was having everyday. On a study abroad, there are so many new experiences that you can't remember them all unless you write them down. It helped alot to get my thoughts into words and I enjoy getting to go back and read the posts.

But after I returned to the states after my trip, I really started to miss all the blogging!
Sure, not nearly as many exciting things were happening back in Texas, but I had just as many thoughts that I needed to sort out.

I have tried many times to think about how to restart the blog and what I should even talk about. But I know my story and the experiences I have had growing up can touch others lives in more ways than I know. It is painful and exhausting to rehash the memories growing up, but if this blog can encourage or give anyone the slightest glimpse of hope in their darkness, then I have succeeded in wanting to write again.

I am hesitant to even post this because I feel like it might just be another "boring family problem story" to others. I know every family has their issues, some harder than others. But eventually, every family will hit a point where everything just gets really difficult. If you are in that valley, take a deep breath cause it gets better!

To get a few things straight, I don't want to give specifics on some of the things I experienced growing up, simply because there is no point for that.
But I bring it up because I want people to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

For starters, I had a wonderful family growing up. It was just my mom, my dad and my brother Taylor and I. Me and Taylor are only 18 months apart so we have always been really close.

My dad was a businessman and my mom was a "stay-at-home mom that never stayed home" along with being an etiquette teacher. She trained at the Protocol School of Washington and would also teach every once in a while at Baylor and SMU.

As you can see, we were the typical American family from the outside. Everything was perfect and everyone was happy all the time.

Dont get me wrong, we were happy and there were many fun times. But we were also hiding a secret. And we fought really hard for years so that only few people would have to find out.

My mom had an alcohol addiction. She had been struggling with it since I was very little. But growing up, she would only relapse every few months. She would be "sick" for a week and lay in bed, but then she would pull it together and start to get her strength back. Around high school though, the relapses got more frequent. I didn't see her as much because when she got sick, I would go stay at my friends house until she got better.

I thought it would help to stay at friends house so I wouldn't have to see her like that.
But when my mom was sober and healthy, we got along great. I was always close to her and she was the mom that alot of girls wanted. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had a HUGE heart for others. She was an amazing cook and walked and dressed with class.

This is why people were so shocked when she passed away in December of 2010. Since not many people knew about her addiction, they were coming up to me at the funeral asking me what happened.

I guess it was just me, but I just assumed that more people knew about our family secret. I didn't mind telling people what was going on, but I know my mom was embarrassed for people to find out. I didn't blame her. I know everyone wanted to help our family, and I am beyond grateful for that, but I also know there would have been judgement on her as well.

I always hoped my mom would get better. I had this hope for her that would never go away. While she was at rehab in San Antonio, I would write her letters trying to encourage and support her. I couldn't wait until I could go visit her.

Rehab would work for her for a while after she came home, but after time, the awful temptations would come back.

There are many things I could say to explain the years growing up, but the day my mom passed away, I seemed to forget about most of the bad memories that happened in my family. Before she passed away, I could remember every time my mom would relapse or disappoint me. But now I only think about the fun and sweet times I had with my precious momma.

The last summer I had with her, she asked me if I wanted to go to Beaver Creek, Colorado, with her for a few days before going to visit my cousin. At the time, I wasn't exactly excited to go on this trip with her because I thought she would relapse and I would have been stuck with her by myself. But I didn't tell her that I didn't really want to go because I knew she would be mad.

Let me tell you, I was shocked because it was the best few days of my life. I didn't know that would be my last trip with her. And I didn't know God had that trip in store for me. But he knew I would hold that trip close to my heart, because my mom acted like the mom I knew she really was. She was sober, sweet, loving and fun every single day of the trip.

She took that time to tell me how sorry she was that she hurt our family. And she would tell me how pretty I was and how proud she was of me. She had told me all of that many times before, but it meant something different this time.

After that trip I came to Baylor to start my first year of college. Since I am the youngest in the family, it was devastating for her to have her last child to move out of the house. I think I had only talked to my mom a few times while I was at Baylor because she got sick and relapsed often. I had to emotionally let go of her just so I could focus on school and classes.

But it was killing our family. We were going crazy. My mom wasn't getting better. It was getting to the point of no return where my mom would ever completely get better. I was even fighting with my friends because I was hurting so bad.

I knew she wouldn't be around too much longer, I thought we would still have her a few more years though. Her liver was completely fine, shockingly, but her brain had been damaged.

I got the call half-way through my freshman year at Baylor that she had passed away. My roommate drove me home to Dallas and we planned her funeral within a few days and then I made it back to Waco just in time for finals.

It was all a blur. I was in shock.
Part of me was relieved that she wasn't in torture anymore and I was relieved that she was at home in Heaven. I wanted that for her. I wanted her to be on the streets of gold that I had read in the Bible.

But that didn't help the loss I had deep in my heart. Every girl needs their mom. Every girl wants their mom to plan her wedding when she gets older. And every girl wants her mom to just play with her hair.

I just wanted to call her to hear her voice. I remember her bright smile and warm hug. I used to play videos of her just to remember her contagious joy. But it has been two years since she has passed away and my head is starting to feel like I am above water again and I can manage.

Some days are harder than others. But the Lord has pulled me through this tough track and He has kept his hand over my family. I have never been more grateful for His plan.

There is much more to explain but that will just have to come next time :)

Love you all, Lauren