Endings.

I don't like endings.  Of any kind.  I'll put down a book I really like for months because I don't want to read the final chapters, and see it finally come to an end.  I'll leave it sitting on my shelf, full of possibilities, full of unread words that could potentially change my life.  I like it better that way, leaving it some-what unknown, just so that I won't be disappointed.  Because those are the worst kind of endings.  The disappointing ones.

Ending, much like goodbyes, are a necessary part of living.  You can't go on with your life with dozens of unfinished books on your shelves.  Things have to come to an end, and you will both be delighted and disappointed with the endings.

I have seen many endings, in my admittedly short life.  The end of friendships, jobs, relationships, families, childhoods, seasons of life, and life itself. Some I have just seen, and some I have personally felt. These endings have caused me to grow in ways I could never have imagined. Forcing me to wake up and realize that life is real, and it is brutally beautiful.  I didn't want any of these endings. If it were up to me, I would have put these things back on the shelf with a chapter or two to go, so that they never had to end. So that I could hold on to them forever and keep them just the way I want. Stopping them when they are perfect. 

But who would I be if those chapters never ended? Who would you be?

Would you still be sitting behind that desk at the job that you hate, instead of owning your own business? Would you still be dating your high school sweetheart, instead of your now spouse? Would you still be living with your parents, instead of leaving for college or moving out?

These are all endings that we want to happen! Very few of us are sitting here reading those going... Man, I wish that wouldn't have ended. No, instead we are happy that those times in our lives are over, though it may be bittersweet looking back on how easy it was to work that 9-5 desk job, or how nice it was to have a live-in cook and maid (love you mom). In this sense, endings are good, and we welcome them. Then there are the endings that cause us to question what our lives mean and why these things happen. 

The messy end of a relationship, dating or marital, that one thought would last forever. The abrupt end to a once blossoming career. The end of a childhood over just a few weeks, forcing someone, who was not yet ready, to become more mature than someone should ever have to be at that age.  The end of a life, whether is be sudden and wrenching, or a slow decline and decay of said life. 

These are the endings that cause us to ask the question; "why?" They cause us to question God's plan for us, or for some, even his excistance. We don't understand until given time and perspective. 

I don't know why there are bad endings, why some things, when they end, leave us feeling so hollow. While other endings give us tramendous hope for the future. In a perfect would, there would only be good endings. You wouldn't have to fear the last few pages of the book. You would know that everything would be okay.  But we don't live in said perfect world. 

Before he left for bootcamp, AJ said something that stuck with me;

"Your options are: 1. Accept your own helplessness. 2. There is no option 2." 

We cannot control how and when things end, but we can control how we deal with them.  We can sit in denial and demand things go back to the way they were, or we can strive forward, knowing that some way, some how, things will be okay if we put our trust in God. 

I Have Decided...

I have decided something. I have decided to stop hating myself.  I have decided that staring at myself in the mirror, and picking myself apart, wasn't worth it anymore.  

I'm not sure when I started hating my body. I know I was young, maybe seven or eight.  I was always bigger than the other girls, and most of the boys.   I was taller and thicker.   I remember being jealous of the small girls cause they could run faster than me and crawl through smaller spaces on the playground without getting stuck.  I was never a pudgy child.  Ever.  I have never been classified as overweight.  Honestly, throughout all my life, I have been a completely healthy body weight.  But I remember being able to give piggy back rides to my brothers, and never being able to get one because I was too heavy for them.  Both my brothers have the build that most girls would kill for, tall and slim.  And when I say tall... I mean tall.  My oldest brother is just about 6' 5" and only weighs about 180 something pounds... if that.  My younger brother is hot on his trail at about 6' 2" and he's not even eighteen yet.  Both are skinny, and athletic.  

I am 5' 9".  I weigh 153 pounds.  I am about four inches taller than the national average and about fifteen pounds lighter.  And yet, there is always the lingering thought it my mind, that if I could just lose about seven pounds, life would be better.  I would look better in clothes, I wouldn't be embarrassed to wear a two piece swimsuit this summer.  I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I was too fat to be attractive.

My arms are too flabby. My legs are too big around.  My hips have too much fat around them.  My chin is too fat.  My cheeks are too round.  My nose is too wide.  My hands are too big and are scarred.  My calves are curved funny.  My knees are oddly shaped and scarred.  My chest is too small.  My butt is about the only thing on me that won't gain any weight.   My hair is perpetually frizzy and not red enough.  My shoulders are too broad. 

These are the things that I say to myself when I get out of the shower ever morning.  The things I think when I look at myself in a sports bra, when I'm heading to the gym, before I throw on a baggy shirt to cover up my "ugly" self.  

There is only a handful of people who know the things I hate about myself.  To the rest of the world, I love my size.  I am athletic, love food, and never feel self-conscious about the clothes that I wear.   I have never admitted these things in such a public forum.  

Last night, I got back from the gym and just stood in front of the mirror for about ten minutes.  I went over every part of me that I hated, and how I could make it better, or rather, how I was making it worse.  As I laid in bed, I thought of how my life would be better if I were smaller.  I glanced up a list of goals that I made at the beginning of the quarter, reminding me of the promises I made for when I come home in June.  I promised I would be skinny, that I would be a new person.  I fell asleep hating myself, because I am never going to reach those goals. 

Today I ran across a chapter in Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist, that said something that made me want to write this post.  She apologized to her body.  Apologized for all the hate she had cast towards it.  Thanking her body for making a good home for her growing baby, and for not giving up on her when she had given up on it.  I did that today...  I apologized for filling my mind with poisonous thoughts about the rest of my body.  I said sorry for thinking so poorly of it when it does so much for me everyday.  I apologized to God too.  He gave me this body.  A good body.  One that has carried me thought nineteen years without injury or defect.  One that will someday make a home for my own growing family.  

Today I chose not to hate anymore.  Not to feel bad about myself.  To take that impossible list of goals off my wall that has been haunting me for two months.  To not apologize to people about not being the perfect skinny girl I promised I would be when I came home in June. 

When I come home in June, I will be 153 pounds.  I will wear the same pant size I did when I left.  I will not be amazingly skinny, and have six pack abs.  I will have my curved hips (to prove that I am no longer a little girl), scarred hands and knees (to prove that I have done something with myself and wasn't perfect), I will freckles all over my round smiling cheeks and wide wrinkled nose (to prove that sun makes me happy).  

The war with myself isn't over, but I won the battle today. 

Cause this seems like one of those blog posts you add a selfie to.