Thursday, March 30, 2017

Catching Feelings

March 30th, 2017

Wanna know what sucks? Wanna know what absolutely sucks? Not being able to express yourself to someone in the way you want to. Not being able to say "I miss you" or "I love you" to someone for a number of reasons that make it impossible to. All tiny, insignificant reasons, but reasons nonetheless. Sure, I can say them occasionally when the moment is right, but I hate not being able to say them out of the blue without seeming like I have a huge crush on this person (which I do, but he doesn't need to know that).

I hate not being able to text him anytime I want without being afraid that I'm bothering him or he's busy or I'm going a bit overboard with texting someone who is just a friend. He's my best friend, but that's besides the point. The point is that I really want to somehow express that I care about him and miss him, but he's at school and I feel like a moron and I don't want him thinking that I'm this boy crazy girl who goes crushing on people left and right. I doubt he thinks that, but I am excellent at worrying over the silliest of things.

I know just yesterday I was talking about how I am perfectly content with being single and I'm not focusing on guys right now, and it's true. None of that was a lie. I'm not going to distract myself with wanting a boyfriend because I know that I am not ready for that. I don't need a guy in my life when I have so many more important things to worry about. Yes, I like this person, but that changes nothing in the long run.

What I'm getting at is I like this guy, but I can't do anything to express myself. I wouldn't care if he knew that I like him, but I don't want him thinking that I was to pursue a relationship. I don't want him to think that everything I say to him as a friend is in someway romantic. I love him, but not because I have a crush on him. I've only just recently admit to myself that there are some feelings there. I love him platonically and I don't want him to mix those three words up with me being all mushy and romantic. Before all else, he is my best friend and nothing will change that.

It still sucks to not be able to express how I'm feeling though. It's bottling up and it's annoying. I hate having a crush because I feel like such an idiot. I don't like the way my heart speeds up when I hear his text tone, I don't like the way my skin heats up whenever he says something sweet, and I don't like feeling so restricted. I hate feeling so cautious about what I say. I just want to be completely open with him about everything, but again, there's that fear.

I spoke about my fear briefly, but let me go into a bit more detail.

I do not want to be in a relationship. I am not stable enough emotionally nor am I mature enough spiritually. I tried this whole dating thing a couple years ago and it's distracting. It's take up so much time, and though that doesn't bother me, I wouldn't mind spending the majority of my time with him, I know it isn't wise. I need to spend my time getting my education and thinking about my future, I need to work on my future career and preparing for college in just a couple of years. Above all else, I need to spend my time with God, worshipping him and praying about how I can serve Him better.

I am a crappy daughter of God. I suck at being obedient and steadfast in my relationship with Him. Seriously, I still wonder why He loves me so much when all I do is screw up and make excuses. He still does though. He values and loves me, He never overlooks me like I feel so many people do. He takes care of me and comforts me when I'm an emotional wreck. Whenever I feel alone, I call out to Him and He's there. He's always there, never leaving me to deal with life on my own.

After all I've done, all the horrible decisions I've made and the amount of times I have lied to him about putting Him first, He still loves me and never fails to remind me. It is so overwhelmingly amazing how wonderful and gentle He is Which is why I am not going to allow myself to get caught up in a relationship with any guy, no matter how much I like him.

God needs to come first in my life. If I can't maintain a relationship with Jesus, the who loves me more than I can comprehend and will never fail me, how am I suppose to keep a relationship with someone who can and most likely will fail me at some point or another?

The time will come when I am ready and I have faith that God will bring a wonderful man into my life as He has promised, but I'm still human. I'm still going to crush on my best friend and feel dumb while doing so. It's okay to like him, I'm not saying it's wrong. I'm just not going to act on these feelings and let history repeat itself, but I fear that if he knew how much I like him, he would think otherwise. And though I am determined to stay true to my word, I'm still afraid that I'll let my emotions get the best of me. I don't want that. It would more than likely damage my relationship with my best friend and I don't want to destroy any more good things in my life than I have already.

This is not where I intended to take this blog, but I'm emotional and frustrated, dang it. I needed a reminder that I can deal with this annoyingly persistent crush and focus on God.

It sucks that I can't be as honest with my best friend about this and it makes me a little lonely, but I'll be fine. I'm not the kind of person to get all bent out of shape about a guy, at least not anymore. He's my best friend and no feelings are going to get in the way of that.

Let me say it again for that little part of brain that isn't listening.

He's my best friend and no feelings are going to get in the way of that.

Get out of my way feelings, shoo!

I am convinced that this is a disease. A sickness. I've caught feelings. *shudders*

Please, for anyone person actually reading this, pray for me. Pray that I don't do anything stupid, cause I'm good at that. I am amazing at doing stupid things. I'll be praying my most consistent prayer:

Jesus, help me not be a moron about this.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Little Autumn's Little Crushes

March 28th, 2017

I have had many crushes over the years. My first crush was pretty bad. Not that I had it bad (I did, but that's not the point), I mean my nine year old self had horrible taste in guys. He had the long bangs that I found so attractive for some reason beyond me. He was older than me by a couple of year, but no one's attracted to a nine year old. He spoke low and deep, and now that I think about it, he probably sounded dumb in the way he was trying to seem masculine in front of the other girls.

I was crazy about him and I have no idea why. I wrote his name on my skin all the time with a sharpie, I would try to wear cute clothes whenever I went to church in hopes he would be there (he never was), and I said the stupidest things in front of him the few days that I knew him.

Let me tell you an embarrassing story. So we were in the other building of the church, sitting at a table together; the only reason we were at the same table was because I hung around my sister who hung around our cousin who my crush also hung around. Yeah . . . Anyway, they were just talking and I was admiring his face that I now know was not really all that pretty. My sister and cousin were talking about how this one other girl had a crush on him and he had noticed it. Me, being the moron that I was said exactly this:

"A lot of girls have a crush on you. And one of them likes your hair." Then I proceeded to sink down in my chair with what I assume was a love struck smile.

Why, younger Autumn? Why on Earth would you say that? Did you think that was subtle or something? Did you think you were wooing him with your flirting skills?

Ugh, I cringe every time I think about. It gets worse though, believe me. Another time when he was actually at church, we were in the Nursery with some other people and I showed him a necklace I had recently gotten that had an N on it. I told him the N stood for his name. I told him that! I'm beginning to wonder if I just didn't care about being subtle at all. Later that day I accidentally threw a heavy, plastic, egg shaped toy at his crotch.

Yup, I was wooing him alright.

I still wonder why I ever had a crush on him.

My second crush was this really bratty boy who cried a lot. We were considered cousins, but it was distant so I didn't consider us actually related. How that one ended was when he stopped hanging out with me after he read my diary about my crush on him. It was awful. And I was so dramatic about it, too. I had this whole speech planned out to apologize for having feelings I couldn't control blah blah blah.

After that I just had bad crushes on boys I met at summer camp. My taste in guys got better as I went on, but then I made the mistake of secret dating one when I was twelve, thinking he was the one and we just had to persevere. I had this whole fantasy of growing up and getting married and having a big family with him.

Problem #1: WE WERE 12

Now, I'm not saying you can't date someone at a young age and end up having a future with them. One of my dance teachers got married to a boy she's liked and been with since she was 13. It just didn't work for me because I was a moron who thought I had everything figured out and I knew what love was.

Problem #2: He didn't want a big family. He wanted two, maybe three kids. I want five. I want lots of kids.

Problem #3: It felt wrong to be with someone without my parents knowledge and approval.

I'm a daddy's girl. Always have and always will be. I want a man who can get to know him and get my dad's blessing. When my future husband wants to propose to me, I want him to ask my dad. I want his approval, and it felt wrong to be going against what my dad has always told me. I didn't like disobeying him and my little secret boyfriend would always throw a fit whenever I suggested we wait (I ended up breaking the boy's heart, so he says, so it doesn't matter now. I realize that he was and still is really annoying and has little respect for girls.)

Problem #3: He didn't and still doesn't like to read.

THAT is a deal breaker for me. I'm a writer. I'm going to be a published author. That's going to be my career and life. He complained every time I sent him something to read. I'm not going to put up with that when it's something I'm passionate about. My sister, who is engaged to her boyfriend she's been with for three years, said that when you love someone, you love what they love. He didn't love what I loved and I didn't love what he loved. We were fooling ourselves with the idea of love.

Problem #4: We just didn't match very well

He got emotional and I got fed up. He complained and I complained about his complaining. I liked being alone when he wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be alone when I wanted to be with him. It just didn't work. It probably would've if we would have just waited until we were more mature and ready to maintain a healthy relationship. We were idiots and that not only ruined our chances of being together in the future, but it hinders any friendship we could've had.

My taste in guys has gotten better since I've matured and gotten to know and discover myself. I know what I want now and what kind of person I want to spend my life with. I don't really worry about boys much anymore because God told me through someone else not to; He's preparing someone for me and I have to be patient.

So that was the end of all my left and right, back and forth crushing. It doesn't work and I'm not going to convince myself that I know better than God (I most definitely do not. It is only because of Him that I'm okay now).

So there's someone out there for me. I don't need to search him out, I'm not desperate to find him, because God will bring us together when the time is right. I trust Him, so I'm waiting. Patiently and happily. I'm content with my single status.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Those Moments of Awe and Joy

March 23, 2017

Does someone ever do something for you and it just blows you away? Like something for your birthday or a random little occasion in which a friend does something special. Someone gets you a present or gesture and you tear up and don't know what yo say. You're speechless and so touched, you just don't know what to do except smile and thank them over and over. Do you know what kind of moments I'm talking about?

Usually those kinds of moments for me are about small and oftentimes silly things. I always get super happy whenever my Sunday school teacher gives me the left over donuts or when my family gives me the last cookie (for some reason it always it always revolves around food. . .).
Then there are moments that are more serious and significant, not that donuts are any less significant. Those kinds of moments revolve more around words for me. I am not one to swoon over pretty words coming from anybody. It's hard for to open up and get close to people, but whenever I do show my whole self to someone and they reciprocate, well, it means a lot to me.

The first time I said "I love you" to my best friend, I was kinda nervous she would just smile and nod, humoring me and my stupidity. I don't take those three words lightly, because they are more than just feelings to me. They are more than just the thing to say when you know someone for long enough. So whenever I say it to anybody, I'm serious and most likely terrified the first time I do. Yes, she said the back and I had a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

It's those little things that get to me, it's the tiniest things that give me those moments of awe and joy. I more often than not get flustered and struggle to say something, because I take everything so seriously and deeply.

Well, I had one of those moments today. A person very dear to me wrote a me the loveliest, sweetest poem for my 200th day on Miraculous Amino (it's like a birthday every 100 days. I find it adorable because people will message you and comment on your profile congratulating you and wishing you a happy whatever hundred day it is for you).

I could go on and on about this, but how about I just show you the poem?


The wind rustles a few stray leaves
Leaves with colours, warm, and a promise, cold
They flutter about in the gentle breeze
Spiraling free, so daring and bold

The one raking them up sighs
As they are scattered once more
Before getting right back to work
Gathering leaves off the floor

On, the breeze whistles
Among the long scarves and coats
Of people battling the chill
As they match the whistling wind's notes

It's that time of year
When animals store up supplies
Preparing for winter
Before it arrives

Although the days shorten
And bright sunny days are few
It is by no means a season
In which to start feeling blue

The streets are laced with vibrant colours
Yellows, oranges, and res
Of the tree's last, bright goodbyes
Before they settle into their beds

Fall is my person favourite
Of all four seasons
It's astonishingly beautiful
To name just one of the reasons

The sheer beauty that comes with it
And the promise of change and things new
Inspires great wonders within me
As I observe it's ever-changing hues

Like the free, spiraling leaves
You taught me I can go in any direction I choose
That's always okay to be different
And to have unique, even unusual views

Like the poor soul sweeping up leaves
You taught me how frustrating life can be at times
But with perseverance and a good-natured spirit
The rewards will be sublime!

Like the happy, mischievous breeze
Ruffling children's hair as it gently blows by
You've taught me how to find humor
Smile and laugh, and not always sigh

Like the critters storing away for the winter
You've shown me how important it is to plan
How procrastination, although seemingly friendly
Can cause the downfall of even the strongest man

Like the stunning beauty of fall
You've inspired me more than you'll ever know
Not only as a writer, but as a person
You've helped and guided me to grow

- Retrofox

For my 200th day, I have been set to smile all day. That's all I can really say in my still giddy state of happiness. These words are overwhelming. Thank you, Retro.

Monday, March 13, 2017

Maybe Someday . . .

March 13th, 2017

I have this really bad habit of piling a bunch of things on top of myself and wondering why I'm so stressed. Some things I don't even have to do, like certain projects I have for fanfiction and potential books I plan to write in the future. Those things I don't necessarily have to do, but because they are important to me and I treat them like they're going to save someone's life, I take it upon myself and add it to that long list.

Now, the most stressful things are the one I do have to do. Those little things called responsibilities and the other crap I agree to do. My homeschool group put together a team of people to create a yearbook. It was optional, my mom didn't make me do it, but because I wanted to go to this fancy school of arts at the time, I figured it would give me a better chance of getting in and it could be fun. Well, I changed my mind about going to that school because it decided that it wouldn't benefit me as the other things in my life would (like dance and other things that would come up in the future that I would not be able to do if I went to a school that let their students out at 5pm). And, unsurprisingly, working on the yearbook is not fun. I repeat: It. Is. Not. Fun.

I'm only working on two pages, the page about co-op and about the yearbook committee. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if the lady who put the team together would help us and explain what exactly she wants in it. I'm a clueless little homeschooler! I don't do things like that, I don't have experience. What is she trying to get out of us when she should know that the majority of the people on the team don't have clue on how to properly do it. I could figure it out, yes, but I do very poorly when I'm left to my own devices on something I have never done before.

So I have to do that mixed with the things I feel would grow me as a writer, and recently the youth group worship team leader reached out to me and asked if I was interested in becoming a student leader. Now this I am ecstatic about! To do something for God that would not only benefit myself, but the church and people God brings into the church. I love that I have been given the opportunity, but just like with the year book committee, I don't know what to do.

Nicole, the worship team leader, has given me many options and has pretty much given me free reign on what I want to do or learn. I want to write, of course, so I told her that. She asked if I could write songs. I said I haven't in a long time, but I could try. If God wants me to be her lyricist, then I can do it. But that's just about all there is to say. She invited me to sit in on a worship rehearsal, I went, and I didn't get much out of it aside from the confirmation that I am not needed to learn an instrument (and the one instrument I want to learn –piano– is the one the two other girls Nicole asked to step up are very familiar with). I haven't gotten any word from Nicole, so more than it being another thing that I piled on top of myself, I'm nervous.

I really want to do something and lead someone in some way, but as of right now, I don't know how. That's something for me to pray on though. I shouldn't worry about it, but hey, I'm human. Humans are really good at worrying about everything despite the fact that worrying does absolutely nothing to help.

I should probably text Nicole and ask if she wants to meet up and talk about what I could do, or I could ask if I could come on practice Tuesday so we can talk, but oh! That's right! For the next month I'm going to busy doing this other thing I agreed to.

This one doesn't upset me, but it's a lot like dance. My older sister asked me if I wanted to join this temporary group with her and one other person to learn karate for this teen talent competition. We're going to learning chunks of martial arts and sloooowly do them to a version of Amazing Grace. It's fun, I'm learning how to properly punch people, and it's a great way to put myself out there and really do something for once. I really like it and I'm so excited I'm getting to do this. I also get to call our teacher "Sensei" (to which he is unamused, but I finally get to use it without being called a weeb, dang it!).

It's a lot like dance, meaning I have to practice relentlessly along with relentless practice of actual dance. And dance has gotten a lot harder since I graduated into the Freshmen class.

So I go over to spend three days with my grandparents every week in order to make practice while worrying about all this other stuff I have to do or I feel I have to do. Like co-leading a Miraculous Ladybug blog on Miraculous Amino and reading books for school and catching up in math and just sitting and wondering, "Why am I doing all of this?"

I was going to end this post right there, but I came to a conclusion.

I have spent my whole life subconsciously thinking that I am only worth something if I do something. If I do something that someone else can confirm is actually significant to more than just me, then I've done something to give me worth. I hate doing so many things and stressing myself out, but if I don't, I feel like I am a waste of space. Like I'm just stealing the air from other people when I could be something more than a lump of tissue and blood and organs covered in skin. Like simply existing and being who I am isn't enough to be important to somebody ― anybody.

That's pretty harsh thinking, but I think It's true that I feel that way in some corner of my brain where everything is dark and dreary. I feel like some lazy glutton if I don't do anything. I feel like I'm doing something wrong when I'm spending time for my own relaxation a lot of times, so it makes sense that in order to feel important I take the responsibility of doing a bunch of crap even they don't have some long term impact or I don't really care about them. A lot of times I still do nothing, I still procrastinate, but maybe it's just the thought of I have a bunch of things to do that I will eventually do that comforts me.

None of this is for certain, I'm psychoanalyzing myself. But it's plausible. It makes a lot of sense, but if all that is true that I am taking the responsibility of doing all of these different things, how can I do them without their sole purpose of being to make me feel like I have worth? How can I not agree to do a bunch of things that stress me out and still like I have some significance?

I might have an answer someday, but I'll work on that when I finish all that I have to do right now.

Forgotten, Remembered, and Ready

March 13th, 2017

I remember when I first made this blog. It was around 2 am on my older sister's birthday, January 5th, and my dad had accidentally left the wifi plugged in. So of course I was up late that night to get my share of nice, quiet internet time. I can't remember how late I was up or how much sleep I got, but I know that I was happy and giddy the whole time. Why? I made a blog, of course! I love the idea of journaling my life and keeping a record of all the little things that happen. I've always loved journaling and blogging (I kept a couple dozen diaries full of gobbledygook throughout the years when I was little). It's always been a part of my life in some form or fashion, so of course I was happy when I finally made myself a real blog for me to not give up on.

I talked about in my first post how I had made many accounts on several different social media to fulfill my desire to blog, but it never really worked. I still can't tell whether it was because they were very unofficial blogs or I just didn't have the motivation to continue them. Anyway, I was dead set on keeping this one alive. I was determined to make it work for once and keep writing for as long as I could. I had goal of at least posting once everyday, but as you can tell, it didn't really turn out that way if the two months between this post and my last one is anything to go by.

Yes, I admit it. I just about gave up on blogging. Come at me, imaginary readers! Sue me, lovers of my blog whom I pretend exist! Tie me to a post and set me on fire, for I had forgotten about Unlucky Little Lady (for the most part).

So yeah, I was determined to keep it going, but as time drew on, it dwindled.

Wow, now that I read back on this, it looks like one of those dramatic posts you see on social media all the time. You know, the ones where people are crying about how they can't do it anymore and they're leaving that site forever. They just lost the motivation and there's so much going on in their life. [Insert long list of people they're thankful for here].

I'm not that kind of person. If I were to stop, well, I wouldn't be writing this. I'd just cease activity until I have a mental breakdown and start ranting about my problems then never post again. Is that shallow?

I am going to continue writing here. Hopefully I'll write on better topics than I did two months ago. I'm not going to read back on all my past blog posts in fear of deleting them because of how stupid I sound.

I do have a couple of topics I want to write on, but I'm going to save that for their own post. Like, I finally talked to my dad about how his words were affecting me and how my family life is right now, also some cool opportunities I've had in the last two months. I'm not going to go into detail now. This post is mainly to tell all of my imaginary readers that I'm still alive and ready to start blogging again.

I forgot how relaxing it is to blog. Dang, I could've really saved myself from all the stress I was going through a few weeks ago.

Thanks for reading any weird person who actually took the time to. It means a lot and I'd love to hear of some topics you'd like me write about or things in my life that you're curious about (I'm probably going to write down a bunch of random questions for myself and say they were asked by one of my imaginary readers).

- Autumn

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Spicy Pancakes & Oatmeal Cookies

January 14th, 2017

I suck at cooking. I cannot cook for the life of me. I once tried to make fried rice. Yeah. . . . I ended up putting in Worcestershire sauce instead of soy sauce, and I cooked it too long so it was gummy. I can follow a recipe kinda okay, but never leave me to my own devices. I can, however, bake and cook breakfast foods. That I can do.

So yesterday I was getting hungry a little after lunch time (I never really eat lunch). I decided that I was going to make pancakes. I actually don't mind making pancakes. They're yummy and filling and has just the right amount of sweetness on their own. Usually I make homemade pancakes, but my mom bought pancakes where all you really had to do was put the right amount of the flour (that was mixed with all the other ingredients) in the bowl and add water. Easy! I wasn't too fond of that, but I thought it would be quicker than if I made it homemade.

I was about to open the box when my mom came in and said that there was already one open. She searched through the cabinets and found a ziplock bag with the same flour. There wasn't quite enough of that, so I ended up opening the other box anyway. I noticed that the flour from the bag and the four from the box were slightly different shades, but I just figured that the one that was opened first wasn't whole wheat while the new one was. But then after I mixed it all up, it looked and smelled odd. There were specks that looked like seasonings or something else and it smelled like something that I couldn't quite place. I thought that something may have gotten into it, but there were no holes in the bag or the box.

At my mom's urging, I made them anyway (I honestly just wanted to chunk it and make my homemade pancakes). I made one and tasted it. It was weird. It was a pancake for sure, but there was something about it that kind of made me want to spit it out. The aftertaste tasted like the batter looked: seasoned.

I did not want it. It tasted gross. My mom said that she would eat them, so I stuffed 14-16 pancakes into three and gave them to my mom (she ate half of one before she threw it away). So while I was searching for the self-rising flour to make my good pancakes, I found this package of darker flour that looked strangely like the one I had opened from the new box. I took it out of the cabinet and held it up to my mom and said, "Isn't this that pancake mix?" She had this look on her face that very clearly said "Oh."

I was freaking out over what I had actually put in the pancakes when my older sister realized. Turns out, her and my younger sister had made chicken nuggets some time ago and that was the heavily seasoned flour they used to bread it. That's what we put in the pancakes. Freaking seasoned, spicy flour. It was making a lot more sense (my mom was throwing away the pancakes while we were laughing about it. Not because she knew what was in it, but because it tasted bad).

I made my homemade pancakes and they were good. They were originally all for me, but I gave my younger sister two. Not that I really wanted to. I was perfectly content with eating a plate of six thick, buttery pancakes lightly glazed with honey.

I can't cook, but I like me some breakfast food.

 Later that day I made oatmeal cookies for just me and my older sister while the rest of my family was out. I can't remember how many I ate, but it was good. My older sister made chicken and paremesan spaghetti. I felt bloated and stuffed by the end of the day, but do I regret it? Nope! I finally got some writing done while I snuggled under my penguin blanket, so yesterday was pretty good.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

The People You Love The Most Hurts You The Most

January 11th, 2017

After a long time of dealing with certain things and keeping all your emotions about it tucked inside and hidden away, it takes its toll on you and you just can't handle it anymore. There are many things like that; insecurity, anxiety, bullying, addictions, abusive relationships, etc. There are just those things that everyone had, has, or will have in their life, and it's more than likely that there will be multiple of those things in the different stages of your life. The biggest one for me right now is the words that my parents say to me.

I love my parents, I really do. They have sacrificed so much time and money and everything for me. They have shown me so much love and affection over the course of my life. They are incredible people whom I love, and I know that they love me, too. But humans tend to hurt the people they love the most. Sometimes it's because they're close to those people so things slip easier, and sometimes it's for other, more personal reasons. Either way, the people you're closest to are the ones you are more likely to hurt. I find this to be true as I face the pain and difficulties of being verbally abused by my parents.

They don't mean to do it. If they knew just how much the words affected me (affect? Effect? It doesn't matter how many articles I read, it's still troubling), they would try to stop. They would encourage me to finish the things they told me to do rather than constantly calling me lazy. They would ask me not to do something again rather than calling me retarded. They would not go on and on about how they should just try again (it's a half-joking, half-serious thing). They would try to understand the things I try to tell them rather than calling me rebellious. They would not compare my accomplishments (or lack thereof) to my sister's. They would be careful. If they truly understood how much it hurts me. If they knew.

I've talked to my older sister about this. I've told her about how I feel about it and what it does to my mind, and she understands because she feels it, too. She's been subject to the hurtful words our parents utter. She knows of the pain and insecurity that comes with being judged and insulted over things that are so silly and insignificant. She knows how I feel, because she feels it, too.

Every time someone says the word "Lazy" I instinctively put on a neutral expression and try my best to not let it hurt me. They don't even have to be directing it at me, it's just one of those words I hear too often that are pointed in my direction. My dance teacher once said that she does not tolerate laziness because she works hard. I felt a little pang in my chest because I heard the word. It's almost as if I have been called lazy so much that I am beginning to believe that I am. It's like I have allowed the insulting words my parents say define me, define who I am. I am not lazy. Sure, I procrastinate, and yeah, I could do better, but that's everyone. Everyone procrastinates on something and everyone can do better. But the word has been drilled into my mind to the point of believing that not only am I lazy, but I will never not be. I have resigned myself to laziness. I have resigned myself to the words my parents say when they are disappointed in me.

It's not just that though. That was just one example. I have allowed myself to be believe that I am so many things simply because I suck at consistently washing the dishes. I am not. I  know I am not. I am capable and I am hard working when I am motivated, but it's hard to believe that I am when I hear so often that I am not.

It's just frustration and irritation that causes them to say such things. It's just the annoyance that they tell me to do something and I don't always do it. It's just them trying to get me to do things. It's just them expressing. But it hurts. It's hurts horribly so. I know they love me, but I feel like they acknowledge the things I don't do more than the things I do. I feel like they acknowledge how much I disappoint them more than how much they love me.

It's taken its toll on me. I'm tired of hurting and getting scared every time I hear my dad's truck when I haven't finished everything I'm suppose to do. I'm tired of trying not to cry every time one of them goes off. I'm tired of simply sitting back and letting myself get insulted constantly everyday.

Constantly, constantly, constantly.

But how do you tell your parents that they're hurting you?

That's exactly what I asked my youth pastor earlier today at church. Which is funny, because she actually preached on not letting the world define you. I think that was a God thing. Anyway, I asked her how I should go about talking to them. I asked her how I can get them to understand. I've been thinking about approaching them and talking to them about, but that's freaking scary. How on Earth are you suppose to tell your parents that without them telling me things like, "Well, you should do a better job." or "Then don't give us a reason to." How are you suppose to make them understand that they are doing something wrong?

I've always had a close relationship with my dad, but I can feel myself distancing myself from him as the insults continue. I can feel myself growing bitter. I can the contempt I am beginning to have for him. He doesn't know he's hurting me. It baffles me how someone can say such things and think that everything is okay. Because it's not. You can't say those things and expect everything to be fine. It's never fine. It hurts and influences. Even more so I've grown hatred for myself, because I have caught on to those hurtful words. I catch myself insulting my younger sister all the time. I call her brainless and dumb and stupid and idiotic, and I hate myself for it because I should know how much it hurts. Then that only fuels my bitterness towards my parents.

I don't want to feel that way. I love them. I love them so much, but I just don't know how to deal with this anymore. I've gotten to the point where I'm lashing out and crying in the shower because it I can't handle it. I've bottled it up for too long. It's violently coming out. It became clear to me that I need to talk to my parents when my older sister and I were talking about it. Something needs to be done. They need to know. So I asked my youth pastor and told her about it.

She said that I really do need to talk to them. A rift is forming in my relationship with my parents, and it's only going to get worse if I don't do something about it. She said that I need to pray, first and foremost. Pray a lot. Pray that God will give me the strength and courage to approach them and that He will give my parents an understanding of what I need to tell them. When I talk to them (she told me this part while using a conversation she had a have with her family at one point as an example, I have to tell them to listen to me without interruption, to not already have an answer thought of and really consider what I'm saying. I need to ask them to really listen and let me get it all out before answering, that way I will be able to have a serious, mature discussion with them. It is going to be hard and I'm going to waver, but God will give me strength. This is something I have to do.

I love my parents, and they love me. Not only do they need to know that they are hurting me, but they will want to know. It's pretty freaking scary, but I know God will give me the right words to say and my parents will at least try to understand.

P.S I'll blog about the talk afterwards