has to be

someone recently referred to me as something they were concerned about breaking.
my brow wrinkled & courage took my words,

"i am not something to be broken."

my statement of faith rang in my mind hours later.
all i could hear was the sound of the sprinkler rotating and spitting cold water on the sidewalks.

you carried me away into the realm of disbelief.
to the twisting, muddy slough of self-doubt & blame.
questions, take backs, concerns & regret lace the overwhelming desire to surrender to the idea of my inability to conquer you.

my bed swallowed me and i never wanted to be spat out.
mom's broncos hoodie and my sheets.
i convinced myself i was wrong.
this is broken.
no quote, no verse and no pin i had pinned could speak to me now.
this is broken.
i am broken.

i can't process this because i can't see you.
i do not know what i need to feel.
deception has a way of halting process.
this is broken.
this is dangerous.
this is resigning.

hours turn to days
& somehow there is victory in this.
the moon lights my backyard.

transitioning from a handstand to a bridge, my feet touch down & starting at the bottom of my spine i pull myself up and am standing.
finished.
whole.
the finale.
"yes."

i slide into my splits & inhale.
my quads are tight, but my muscles are inclined to let me rest on the pavement, even through the pain. as my chest moves slowly up & down and my eyes close.
tears stream down my cheeks & kiss the top of my right thigh.
i can hear the sprinklers again.
throughout the distraction, my goal remains the same: wholly feeling the process.
"broken?"
my eyes roll and tears continue to fall on to my sunkissed legs. 

forgiveness kissed your lips & confused you.
with goodbye i handed you a pardon.
the only piece of me you are welcome to.
the one part i need you to have.

you have carried me into the realm of disbelief
but
i am not something to be broken. 

i will bend, i will be stretched, hurt and contorted into something i didn't know possible, but i will not break.
you do not have that.

there has to be more to a human.
there has to be growth before wilting.
there has to be purpose before ending.
there has to be bending & not breaking.

there has to be because: forgiveness. 

buckets.

i was sitting in my backyard in my swimsuit with about 20 minutes till i needed to leave for work. my spiral bound journal was making an imprint on my thigh as i was writing the things i felt i needed from my senior year.
my bucket list included yoga poses, always painting my nails black, writing love letters, skipping sit-ups and donating to organizations i love. i wrote all the things my reckless heart wanted and needed.
today as i sit in my room with only a few square feet of my floor unoccupied by clothing, books and bobby pins, i look at this list and am conflicted between wanting to cry and laugh.
the summertime brought with it a sense of urgency. a need to inhale the beauty of life and the journey. senior year would trick me into thinking love is a lie, and i would believe it. senior year would influence me into thinking that the preciousness of life cannot be a priority.
senior year has weathered me. stretched me. it has given me a darker picture of what honestly leads to and what vulnerability can produce.

as i sit with 5 word documents open and my planner full of uncrossed items i see the demand senior year has. and i see that this...this flood or responsibility, this is not just an aftershock of academia.

 this is life.

this will not change once i graduate. this will not change when i get a job. this will never change. so what then? what and how do i fight for urgency of life? how do i demand to see beauty?

for me, i think it includes lists. things i know my heart needs. practical. physical. but more than just bucket lists. lists reminding me of Who provides. Who sets the very beat of my heart. Who never gives false promises. Who is "sheer beauty, all generous in love, loyal always and ever". lists to remind, uplift and encourage.

my walls are covered with reminders of the preciousness of life.
a dream-catcher kayc made me, artwork by denae, snapshots of moments where i was happy.
simple statements of accuracy,
"keep not settling"
"chase grace"
"good vibes only"
&
"tu me manques" in kelly's handwriting.
verses & the map of Gettysburg.
frames with photos & my creed "refine me lord, through the storm" delicately designed by erin.
sunflowers, beaches and a dia de los muertos skull.

all my favorite things.
all of my favorite people.
all things that remind me of life.
that even through heartbreak and ache, frustration, anxiety and a full fledged desire to be done...all my reminders speak to beauty.
things will not change & neither will He.
if there is any confidence in static, it is in Him.
the only thing.
the one thing.
& my hope is that His unchanging nature will defeat the mundane and numbing feeling senior year has given me.
my hope is that i will not be forced to see the fleetingness of life at funerals of loved ones.
my hope is that i can reclaim all of what senior year has taken before i walk.