You can't prepare your daughters for college, but you can love them

            I have the greatest parents. Growing up, I was always told that I could do absolutely anything that I dreamed of, that I had zero limitations. They encouraged me to take every challenging class, try out for every sports team, and to make lots of friends and have fun. They praised me for every accomplishment and were understanding when I came to them with problems or mistakes that I had made, never angry. Perhaps one of the most important things that they impressed on me from a young age was the understanding that I have tremendous value. Not to let anyone ever treat me like I don’t. They taught me what to do in situations where someone might try to take advantage of that value. My parents were always the best examples, they showed each other respect and expected me to do the same.

Something that I did not realize during all these mini-lessons, was that I would be in situations where someone would treat me like I had no value. I knew things like that happened because my parents talked to me about standing up for myself and not settling for anything less than I deserve. But I was naive enough to think that those things wouldn’t happen to me, they couldn’t.

I felt especially safe because I was getting ready to attend a church school in the conservative state of Idaho. I wasn’t about to roam the streets of Detroit, no, I was settling in small town USA. Where I believed the worst thing that could occur was accidentally losing a finger in a potato factory. But attending a church – owned school in Idaho is exactly like attending college anywhere else in the world. There are still drugs. There is still underage drinking. There is still sexual assault. Of course none of the above are condoned, but it still happens.

As I began the adventures of dating, I noticed exactly what my parents cautioned me about.

“You could be really attractive if you lost a few pounds.”

“Why are you getting a degree? You’re just gonna be taking care of my kids anyway.”

“Don’t send snaps unless you’re naked.”

“I can’t date you if you don’t put out.”

“I bought you dinner, so now you owe me.”

These are all phrases I heard from boys who were also attending the same school as me, and most were too vulgar to share. I always ignored these comments, never talking back or getting angry. I wouldn’t want to look CRAZY too. But it is hard to ignore those comments when you’re lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and wondering why you didn’t get a second date.

Until one day it just clicked for me. I was going on a first (and only) date with an older guy who was taking me to get my favorite food, burritos. He drove me around for a while, showing off his fancy car. (I wasn’t impressed, I was just thinking about burritos the whole time.) Next thing I knew we were pulling up to his studio apartment, instead of the restaurant. The woman my parents raised would have never even gone in, but I didn’t want to be rude. To my dismay, there were no burritos in his motel-like room (No one gets in-between me and a burrito. Big mistake.) Just a big bed and a little love seat. Panic rushed through me, this was not the first time I had been manipulated. I awkwardly sat as far over on the love seat as I possibly could, looking for every excuse to leave. I thought about having a roommate call me with an “emergency.” I was thinking of ways to make myself sick. If I threw up or had diarrhea that would be pretty embarrassing, but then he’d have to take me home. I would have gone to great lengths to get out of this situation. After several advances and many firm “no’s,” I stood up and told him to take me home. The more he argued with me, the firmer I became. It shouldn’t have gotten to the point where I was threatening to call the police, but it did go there.

The ride home was awkward. He was mad and he was rude and he called me a “slut” more times than I can count. But all I could think about was how happy I was. This is the woman my parents raised.

My only regret was not standing up for myself to anyone before. I could have avoided some tough situations if only I had recognized my worth earlier. So many times I wanted to be nice. I never wanted to offend. But some people will take advantage of your kindness and your good heart. Protecting yourself and standing up for yourself is worth offending. It is worth one guy thinking you’re mean and calling you names. Because if someone tries to manipulate you, you should be mean. You can prepare your daughter for these situations, but you cannot prepare them for the feelings that result from these situations.

I am thankful for parents that were open with me and showed me that I have value, even before I knew it. You cannot give someone confidence and you cannot give someone courage, but you can give them love. And your daughters will never forget the love lessons you gave them.

These lessons are what led me to my husband, a man that would never treat me less than I deserve, someone who respects who I am, and someone who has shown me Christ-like love through his actions. And I would have never met him if I settled for a boy who puts his own desires before my love for burritos.

Let Me Tell You Something About Depression...

   Lately I have been feeling very prompted to write something straightforward about living with depression. I always hesitate to talk about this subject. I never want people to worry about me, pity me, label me, or feel that I am always complaining about my life. There will always be those people who just won't understand, not because they are rude, but because they just cannot fathom feeling so low. I am jealous of these people. I wish I did not have this deep understanding of darkness, but everyone has their own trials. This just happens to be mine, so I shouldn't have to keep such a big part of my life so hidden.

   The best way I can describe living with depression is "the hole". On my worst days I literally feel like there's a hole in me. A big, gaping one right in the middle of my chest. I feel like I have to curl myself into a ball and cover it to make sure my insides don't fall out. It's the weirdest thing.

   Sometimes I feel so exhausted that breathing is hard. That I consciously have to keep filling my lungs with air because my body won't do it on it's own. But that's the only thing I feel like I can handle in that moment. It hurts to even think about moving your body out of bed.

   Sometimes I feel so numb and it's scary. In my opinion this is the worst part of depression. There comes a point where you just start not caring. You don't feel happy, but you don't feel sad. You don't feel anything and you're kind of just there. Like you're just taking up space. That's the worst because nothing matters. Failing grades? Whatever. Your health? Ehh. Losing friends? It was bound to happen anyway. I would take the feeling of complete sadness or complete heartache a million times over feeling numb. It's better to feel something than nothing at all.

   I'm not sharing all this because I want to depress you or to try to get people to feel bad for me. The purpose of this is that I want you to know that even this pain passes. It really does. Of course, it may come and go. And during a low day you might not ever think that things will be different because it is so hard to see past misery when it forms all around you in a thick, black haze. But you're whole life will not be darkness. There are too many great things in this world to see, to do, and to love to always be sad. And the more things you see, do, and love, the less time you have to dwell on your depression. Yes, it may always be there. You may always have to take anti-depressants or you may have to go to therapy every week until you're gray, but happiness is so possible.

   I promise that the hardest part about living with depression is telling someone. It takes a lot of courage and recovery takes work. But it is the most rewarding thing. The first good day after a period of numbness is like a breath of fresh air. You finally feel like you can stop forcing a half smile and happiness starts coming naturally again. Feeling that on top of the world makes all that hard work feel so worth it. Just like sadness, happiness does not last forever. I encourage you to journal a lot in these happy moments. Make a list of reasons to live, or jot down some little things that just make you happy. Because if another bad day happens to pop up out of the blue, you have something to remind you how possible it is to feel good again. And remember that people want to help, so let them. No one can do life alone, even if depression is something they don't have to deal with.

:)