catching up and keeping promises.

I quit writing awhile back. I promised myself that I would not quit writing and that I would keep people up to date about my life, my struggles, and my different seasons. And here I am telling you the readers that I stopped writing. I stopped journaling, I stopped thinking like a writer and those were my favorite things.

I am not going to blame anyone in this situation besides myself. Its not fair. But, I need to be honest  -  being honest is not easy. It never is.
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Word on the street is that I am known as a flight risk. I get it, what you see on social media only shows the good side of my life, it only shows the good pictures, the funny statuses - I'd like to think they are pretty funny, but then again I laugh at my own jokes more times than not. So, as many of you have seen my travels and my job opportunities, you automatically assume that I am flighty. However, there is so much more behind the posed social media post.

I guess this is where I tell you a little about it -

I ran from Uganda. It got hard and I moved home. Why? Because I let the enemy completely steal every single bit of joy that I had in my being. I cried myself to sleep every single night because I was scared that someone was going to get me. I thought that life outside of people giving death stares or people stealing phones would be nicer. I was scared every single second of every single day. So I moved home, I moved home because my thoughts left me. I was no longer in control of my thoughts. I could not stop them.  I would wake up, get dressed, get in the car to head to the office and within the first 5 minutes of the car ride - my brain made me think that an earthquake would happen and I would be separated from everyone that I knew, my phone would go missing and I would be lost - forever. You see, I could not stop those scenarios.

I did what I thought was best, I moved back to Dothan, thinking that things would get better that the fear would vanish. I laugh now because its been months and  it didn't just vanish. I moved back into my parents house and I would not let my best friend leave my side. On my birthday I finally decided to leave my house, I'd been home for 10 days. I left my house to go do other things for people and get my mind off the terrible, terrible scenarios that left me stuck in bed - but no matter how many smiles I got, or phone calls, or texts I still only imagined myself crawling back into bed. Thats just what I did, on my 24th birthday I crawled into bed at 3pm and stayed there all night. My mom came into check on me and I told her that I wanted to go home, I was home - but I meant home, like heaven - home. I told her that I was too scared to try and live life anymore and that I needed to be with Jesus.
I haven't written this out because I haven't known how. I can only imagine how my mother felt the day I told her I didn't want to live on earth anymore. I told her I wanted to throw all away because of my fear.

I didn't. Instead I saw a counselor.

And she told me that I had PTSD, that I never let myself understand that I lived in Uganda, so when I jokingly told myself, "this is not my life," my brain actually started believing that this was not my life. And that is when the fear creeped in. I told her about how I went to Italy with my family and how I wanted so badly to relive that trip because I was not there, I was in my head. I do not remember that trip, I only remember pieces. I remember being sick the entire time because I wasn't sure how to process my fear. She told me that day that she was not worried about me. She said, she could tell by how I was answering my own questions that I would be okay. I did not really believe her because I knew my thoughts when I was alone and I knew that I had felt with this for quite sometime. I went home, knowing that maybe I would be okay someday, but just not sure when - I figured that this would be something I would carry for the next 5 years and then get over it, eventually. I was okay with it being the new me. I had to come to grips with it.

Here we are -5 months later and I can honestly tell you that I cannot go into that back bedroom at my parents house without crying, because of how dark I was then. Do you know when something happens and you remember it? You remember your first break up or a phone call you never want - you remember exactly where you were and you avoid that spot at all cost. That is how I am with that back bedroom. Of course I go in there to put towels up or open the blinds (I sound like Amelia Bedelia) and now I thank Jesus every time because I know that HE is the only reason I was pulled out of the pit.

This past year has been a wild one, I moved to Uganda. I moved home due to depression, I overcame depression, I became a college student again, I got multiple part time jobs and then I went to Uganda for a short visit, I have a boyfriend (thats a new thing, for another blog), I got use to meeting strangers, I adopted a child in my heart, and I walked through the darkest season, yet.

I am not going to pretend to have it all together, I never do.
I am a flight risk, sure. We can say that.
I do not know what my life will look like next year - but who does?

But I know that I faced fears when I went back to Uganda this past month. I know that I literally FOUGHT the enemy to get back there. I went with two incredible friends and I was greeted at the airport by someone special, whom I surprised, might I add. I went in the slum and taught girls about being girls, I watched my two best friends host medical clinics, I loved on my little boy and I ate too much ice cream with my guy. I laughed a lot, I cried some too. I spent time with my roommate, I ate dinner with a big family, I rode in the car with the windows down, I laughed more, I sang terribly, I saw wild animals on a safari and I went to Gulu (blog coming) -