This is what I'm most thankful for this year.

Well, more like this is who I'm most thankful for.

Forgive me for risking sounding like a broken record, but Clayton, Jay, Reafe, and Tunji are my angels on earth. This year, more than ever before it feels like, they have carried me when I didn't think I could walk. They have saved me from myself when I felt like giving up was the only option and couldn't see a way forward. They have held me up when I felt like I was collapsing and refused to let me go when they saw me slipping into that dark hole. 

No matter how isolated I've felt this year, I've always known that I had someone I could call or text, someone who would be there to tell me the truth of who I am and how much I am loved. They've let me vent about the same fears and the same stresses over and over again and never once gotten annoyed or tired of hearing it. They each encourage and push me in their own unique ways, and I can't imagine my life without each of them in it. 

Clayton is my spiritual/faith encourager. He's the one I can go to with all of my questions and fears and frustrations about God and know that even if he doesn't have any answers, he won't judge me. Conversations with him always help me work out struggles with my faith. Even if I'm not feeling God's presence anywhere else in my life, when I talk to him, I remember that God is here and God is alive, because I see God in Clayton. I truly have learned more about God from him than any church service I've ever gone to or could ever go to. 

Jay is my, stealing a quote from Hamilton, "look at where we are, look at where we started" friend. Because he has known me longer than anyone currently in my life, he has the unique ability to remind of how far I've come and grown, and he really knows what he's talking about. Because we've seen each other through so much, he's seen firsthand everything that I've overcome and uses that as his proof that I'm going to keep growing and keep moving forward. He reminds me that even if I feel stuck now, it's not going to stay that way, because it never has - I've always overcome. 

Tunji is the one who forces me to find the humor in life when I can't see past whatever hard thing is in front of me. That may sound like more of a distraction than an encouragement, but it's not. He has this instinctive ability to know when I need to laugh and has no shame about doing whatever is necessary is order to make that happen. And by making me laugh, he reminds me that there is always something light in the world. There is always joy to be found somewhere. I just have to be willing to look for it. Even if it's found in one of my best friends saying the most random, off-the-wall nonsense just to make me smile.

Reafe is the one who pushes me to hold on to positivity when that feels impossible. He is the first to remind me to choose joy when letting the pain win is the much easier option. He unashamedly reminds me of why he and others look up to me so much, and that, in turn, forces me to remember that there is good coming from all of this. Texts from him always remind me that as long as I'm alive, God is using me for something, and that it's going to be okay in the end. Even if I can't see it getting better right now, it's going to get better. 

The real, blunt truth? These four guys are the main reasons I didn't try to kill myself back in September, why I stopped and called for help when the thoughts first entered my mind. Because even though I thought at the time that their lives would be easier without me in the long run, I knew that I couldn't hurt them, and I know for a fact that losing me would devastate all of them. Their presence alone in my life, even though they are hundreds and thousands of miles away, reminds me that I matter to someone when I feel like my biological family only cares about what I can do for them, not actually about me. 

An exchange trip I wasn't supposed to be allowed to go on to a city more than 4000 miles away. A class I randomly joined for a Twitter experiment. A soccer team I never intended on meeting, let alone becoming friends with. I met all four of these guys in the most accidental ways, and now, they are the most important people in the world to me. That's God, y'all. That's all God.

I've said it a million times before, and I'll say it again: DNA doesn't make a family. Love does. The relationships I have with Clayton, Jay, Tunji, and Reafe are all the proof I need.

So yeah, if you were to ask me what I'm most thankful for this year, I would give you this answer without a second thought. It's these four guys right here. They are my angels, my saving graces, my four best and truest friends. Since I can't change my health issues, at least I have the comfort of knowing that I have people to help me get through them. I couldn't ask for anything better.

Windows of Light

Well, all hell broke loose here today.

I can't get into how exactly for several reasons, but suffice it to say that Chelsea has taken her stellar decision-making skills to a whole new level and it's probably going to have ramifications for a long, long time. So that's awesome. And it nearly sent me into a panic attack tonight. Which is really shitty timing, especially seeing as Blake is at our house for who knows how long.

Thank God that I have the best friends on the planet, friends who are more like family than my biological family at this point. An hour with Clayton and 45 minutes with Tunji, and I actually feel like I can breathe again.

My family-friends (yes, I just made that up), they're the ones who actually care about how I'm feeling and are willing to listen. They care about how the stress of everything happening in my life is affecting me. They care about supporting me and lifting me up, instead of telling me basically to just suck it up and deal. They're here through everything, even though there are hundreds of miles between us and they have craziness in their own lives to deal with. They just get me, as stupid and cliché as that sounds. Tunji and I call each other "Siamese twins" for this reason; we're not just incredibly similar, we also have the innate ability to understand each other even when we can't find the words to communicate coherently. I used to be able to talk to my mom like this...until she stopped having the time or energy to care.

I told Tunji that I've spent the past 14 months that I've been in North Carolina taking care of everyone else and their problems and trying to keep them happy and balance everything and putting myself last because I've felt like I don't really have a choice; after all, nobody else seems to care that I'm dealing with severe and constant pain through all of this. You know what Tunji said in return? Two things. One, that he admires me so much because I've been able to keep hold of who I am at heart in the midst of all the crap I've been through - goofy, smart, outgoing, caring, and loving. After all, one of the reasons I stopped myself from attempting suicide is because I didn't want to hurt someone else (him). I haven't given up on trying to live my life and be myself. Two, that I am the most loving and caring person he knows, and I deserve to have someone love me and take care of me. He believes a guy will come along love me the way I want and deserve to be loved, and until then, I have him and so many other people who are going to make sure that I am never alone, no matter where I am.

These two conversations tonight, these were a reminder and comfort I needed that God is still here and God is alive. At the end of our conversation and prayer, Clayton read a blessing that he said he'd never read before but was led to, and when I heard it, all I could say was "God is good." Read it for yourself. Maybe you need it, too.

May you be blessed in the holy names of those
Who, without you knowing it,
Help to carry and lighten your pain.

May you know serenity
When you are called
To enter the house of suffering.

May a window of light always surprise you.

May you be granted the wisdom 
To avoid false resistance;
When suffering knocks on the door of your life,
May you glimpse its eventual gifts.

May you be able to receive the fruits of suffering.

May memory bless and protect you
With the hard-earned light of past travail;
To remind you that you have survived before
And thought the darkness now is deep,
You will soon see approaching light.

May the grace of time heal your wounds.

May you know that though the storm might rage,
Not a hair of your head will be harmed.

Typing it out now, one line stands out in particular: "May a window of light always surprise you." These two conversations tonight, they were my windows of light. In the fear and stress, they were reminders that I am not alone, I am loved, there is good in this world, and maybe God isn't as distant as it has seemed lately. They were the light on a hard and dark day.

I think maybe my family is going to need me to be their window of light now more than ever. And it's going to take supernatural strength and peace, because J am tired and overwhelmed trying to do everything on my own hundreds of miles from the people who know and love me best.

Lord, help me. Just, please. Whatever it takes. Help me. Help me help my family. I need you. I'm tired and confused and don't know what to do. But also, thank you for my friends. Thank you for my windows of light. I get it now. I'll try not to forget it next time, but I might need some reminding.

To Love and Be Loved

"The single desire that dominated my search for delight was simply to love and be loved." - St. Augustine

Yesterday, I got to go back to Campbell for a soccer game and see my boys that are still there. I was counting down to this day, praying that Mom would be well enough to take me. I so desperately needed something to work out in my favor. I honestly wasn't certain it would happen until she actually got out of bed to get ready; it's been a really rough week for her, but she said she toughed it out because she knew how important it was to me.

Being back at that soccer field...it feels like home. Even though I felt so old being surrounded by college students (when did that happen?), it still felt so right to be sitting there watching a team that I have followed for five seasons now.

It was all the more perfect because it was this guy's senior night.

Matt was a true freshman my senior year, but he redshirted that year, so that's how he's still at CU. I was so proud of him to get to see him celebrated after all the work he's put in. 

I was also there to see these two adorable boys.

Josh

and Seth

I met them back in January of 2016 when I was visiting Campbell while on break from New York. They had heard about me through Ricky and quickly became my "second generation" of brothers. It's crazy to think that they were freshmen when I met them, and now they're juniors.

And because God was apparently in a really generous mood yesterday, one of my other brothers who graduated last year, Martinez, was actually at the game to see Matt for his senior night, too. Of course I had to get a picture with him. He knew it was coming. ;) 

While I was taking the picture with Matt and Josh, another guy from the team I actually really wanted to meet walked by, so I got everything I wanted out of last night. His name is JJ, and I've basically become his biggest fan. He's a ridiculously talented player, and I really wanted to meet him to just tell him what an incredible player I think he is. He was such a sweetheart, too. I think I made him a little bashful with all the compliments, but hey, I was a little excited. He even reached down and gave me a big hug to say thank you, which I was pleasantly surprised by. Despite the jokes the rest of my brothers like to crack, I never make strangers hug me. Even I'm not that weird. ;) But he and I got to talking on Facebook today, and he told me that Matt, Josh, and Seth had told him some about me, so I semi-jokingly said I was more than willing to adopt him as my brother, too, and he said "I'm in!" so I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. :) 

I was on such an emotional high when we got home last night around 12:30 that it took me a sweet forever to fall asleep. This is what my boys do to me. It's not so much being back at Campbell as it is being with them. Which is weird, really, since Matt is the only one (Martinez, too, but I'm talking about of the guys still on the team) who was there at Campbell when I was there and witnessed what I went through, and by the end of next weekend at the latest, the only guys I will know on this team will be guys I met after graduated and through association from other guys. But as I was telling JJ today, the guys from my year pretty much saved my life (there's an understatement), so I see it as me just passing on the love, and it's created this bond that can't really be explained to anyone who isn't part of it. They're my boys, my brothers, my family. Just as much as anyone who shares my DNA is. When I'm with them, everything feels okay for a change. It's like I can forget everything that is going wrong, everything that is stressing me out, everything that is negative because the love that I feel both for and from them is completely overwhelming in the best possible way. It's not lost on me for a second how lucky I am.

To love and be loved like this, well, it's everything.

A post about bullying.

When I was in third grade, Becky O'Neill called me stupid, because I wrote my Js backwards. I told her, "J's a hard letter. You never know whether to hook left or hook right." A right hook from Ashton Bellman in junior high was meant to swell me up and make my tiny nose normal-sized. At least, that's what he told me. And in high school, Ryan Mundy called me many things I dare not repeat but still replay in my head from time to time, all because I did theater instead of playing football.

Sticks and stones, right?

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words...A stone I can take. A quick break, yeah, that I can shake. And though you've never punched me in the face, every syllable you speak stabs through my spirit and hardens my heart. And though my hand makes the cut, your words are the accomplice, seeking to accomplish I know not what other than to bury some sense of loathing you have for your own self. I know you hate yourself so much; otherwise, you wouldn't be so obsessed with hating me more. No eye has seen and no ear has heard just how much I care about what you think of me, because I would never show anyone other than the darkness of my bedroom and tear-stained pillowcase. Just in case Mom and Dad could hear my cries, I suffocated my suffering in a cotton case grave and believed all the lies you told me about who I am, or what I would become, or whose fault it was. 

It got worse when your fingers started saying what your mouth was too cowardly to utter. Under the influence of your description of me, I learned to despise many things about myself, not because they're so bad, but because if I didn't have them, then you wouldn't have noticed them and be powerless to use them against me. The pricks and pins of pricks' opinions spins my whole sense of self out of whack, and so I shacked up in the safest place possible: on the island of invisibility, on the shore of "don't make any waves," at the corner of complacency and fitting in. I hide in the back country of cowardice praying you won't notice this insecurity factory I call a life, or a family, or a faith, or a body. And even today, I'm not lying when I say I could care less about what people think of me, because I could. I could care much, much less, because I still care a whole lot.

But you are not my source. You are not my well. If your opinion of me were the last cup of water in a desert, I would throw it in your face, and even though there's still a trace of the pain you caused, those scars are hard as armor and so faint that sometimes I can't even see them anymore. Because the sticks that used to harm me have been crossed, the stone that used to bruise me has been rolled away. Sticks and stones were your weapon, but sticks and stones are His way. So say all you want; a better Word has been spoken. Lie all you need to; a greater Truth has been revealed. Hold me back if you must, but my future has been sealed.

Sticks and stones, right?

-----

It's been a while since I've really thought about the bullying I experienced growing up. Progress, right? Well, then things like this poem come along, and I realize I've still got a lot more healing to do than I thought I did...and I've never been more thankful.

Most people know that I was bullied pretty intensely when I was a teenager, to the point where I was forced to leave the church I'd grown up in and spent the vast majority of my high school years contemplating suicide. I was surrounded by so many people telling me that I was unwanted and that I would never be loved that I became convinced that they were right. Even when I got to Campbell and met the people who proved they were wrong, became my family, and loved me at my lowest, my brain couldn't reconcile the truth in front of me with the lies that had been engrained deep into my soul.

I think I've gotten better at it over the years, but listening to this poem made me remember that those wounds are still very much a part of me and how I view the world and relationships. I still struggle to understand why people like me as much as they do and to accept the love that I know in my heart I deserve. I can't help but wonder how different my life would be now if I'd had words like Jon's to hear when I was younger, if I would have sabotaged so many friendships out of fear and shock.

I know the truth now. I know who I am as a person, as a friend, and in the eyes of God. I know how loved I really am. Just today, one of my friends from my neighborhood in NYC called me. He originally said he only had five minutes, but we ended up talking for nearly half an hour, and one of the last things he said to me was a reminder that I am never alone and never forgotten, even though it can feel that way being stuck in this town so far away from the people who know and love me best.

Let's be real: bullying sucks. I know that sounds obvious, but this is something that I think most people don't talk about because they're afraid to, or they're ashamed and they haven't fully recovered from the lies and the hate drilled into their heads. I think a lot of us get bullied, even the people we think are untouchable, the people we think have it all together and everyone likes. People are cruel sometimes, and while it'd be easier to say something cliché like "Why can't we all just be nice to each other?!", the reality is that we don't live in a utopia where that's possible. We're broken, and we hurt, and it's easy to take that hurt out on someone around you you see is vulnerable. I definitely was vulnerable and easy to attack, especially being in a small school where it was easy to be known for all the wrong reasons.

Words can break you. Physical wounds heal. The bleeding stops. The bruises and scars fade. The pain goes away. But mental wounds? They seep into your soul like red wine into a white couch that you have no idea how to get out, except you can't throw out this couch because you've only got one and you're stuck with it for life. So you scrub and scrub and pray that God will perform some miracle and it will go back to the bright white it was before, and some days you think it has, but other days, you look at it, and you notice the faint reddish-purple droplets still lingering and become convinced that it's all ruined, that you're ruined, and you might as well give up.

That's what happened to me. I became so convinced that I was too broken to be redeemed or ever be worthy of love that I stopped trying to find it, but more importantly, I pushed it away anytime I thought it was getting close. I hid. I tried not to be seen so I could avoid what I believed was the inevitable end of someone else telling me they hated me. But people like my soccer boys and my Reformation brothers, they saw me saying "no" and refused to take that for an answer. They made me their family when I didn't think I wanted them to and pursued me when I tried to run from them. They are the reasons I finally began to understand that maybe I am worthy of love, after all.

But ask any of them and they'll tell you the lesson doesn't always stick with me. I've said more times than I can count that I don't understand how I got so lucky to have them, and it's partially because it still seems so unbelievable that everything has changed so drastically. God used two groups of guys I never really intended on meeting to begin with to show me that His declaration of my worth is the final say. He is the voice of truth, and He tells a story completely opposite from what I grew up hearing and believing. It's like Jon says; my future has been sealed because my self-worth lies in a foundation that no person can ever shake. I know it's true because I actually trust people now. I'm not afraid of loving and being loved just because I've been burned or I've heard a lot of terrible things said about me. I stay determined to see the good in people because God sent me people who saw the good in me when I didn't see it in myself.

Do I remember the things bullies told me? Yep, pretty much every single one of them. Do they still sting? Yep, some days more than others. But do they define me? Not in the least. And that change in my perspective is 100% all God's doing through the Holy Spirit and His working through the people He's surrounded me with.

Praise be to God.

If you have scars from bullying (which, really, I think more of us do than we care to admit), go listen to Jon's new poem, "Sticks and Stones." It's embedded in this post. Bring tissues.

At War With Myself

I should be going to bed right about now, but I need to get this out. (Also, I'm listening to Ed Sheeran's new album for the first time, and I don't want to stop.)

Okay, so remember how I mentioned that video I got from one of my soccer boys for Valentine's Day?

Truth time: I still have that video saved to my phone and have played it I-don't-even-know-how-many times in the past two and a half weeks.

Every single time, it makes me smile as wide as my mouth can stretch and gives me this warm feeling of being loved that is like wrapping up in a blanket on a cold day, but there's also been this recurring thought that I really, really wish would get out of my head.

I see my brother's face in the video, and I hear him saying the words "I love you," and as though it's out of my control, I think, I don't know how I got this lucky. It's not supposed to happen like this for me. 

Three and a half years of knowing him and the rest of my brothers, and a large portion of the time, my brain still cannot wrap itself around the idea that I actually deserve their love. It still searches for answers as to how a "girl like me" got chosen by "guys like them," why the good-looking and popular athletes who could have the attention of anyone on campus decided to love the semi-outcast, not conventionally gorgeous girl with health issues. Why did they pick me? I keep asking myself, as if that's something that really makes a difference after all this time.

Besides, I already know why they "picked me." I already know what they love about me. It's not like they've kept it a secret. They've told me time and again why they're grateful to know me and why they love me. They've never once made me feel like I was their "charity project," like a lot of people in high school treated me," yet I somehow still have trouble just accepting what they have told me, even though, in my heart, I know it's true. It's not like I don't believe they're telling me the truth. It's just that part of me still doesn't understand why it's true.

The good-looking, popular guys used to always be the ones who made my life hell. That's exactly why I was scared of these soccer boys in the beginning, and I've told them as such. I didn't think they could actually care about someone who was so completely different from them and anyone they usually hung out with. But when I learned they really were different from all of the others, when I learned they actually were who they appeared to be, the question became why are they wasting their time? That was the same semester my seizures came back; it would've been a hell of a lot easier for them not to bother with me than to invest in me and my life on top of everything they had going on.

Instead, Chirag and Justin sat at the ER with me for hours one day.

Justin and Bryce picked me up from the ER another day then spent close to 90 minutes taking care of me.

Bryce - how many seizures did he take care of me through between soccer and Reformation??

Isaiah brought me drinks when I was too sick to even leave my room.

Reafe, Tunji, Ricky, and Isaiah showed up to be my bodyguards.

So many of them carved time out of their schedules to spend time with me, whether it be lunch or dinner.

They listened.

They prayed.

They hugged.

They were always there.

Some of them are still always here.

And they've never even wanted a thank you for any of it.

I have a soccer ball sitting on my shelf signed by almost every boy from that year, a daily reminder of the memories that we share. I haven't forgotten any of it. So why is it that I still sit around wondering why I'm even in this position? It's been almost three and a half years. Will I ever accept this love, whether or not I think I deserve it? They believe I deserve it; isn't that enough?

One of them has reminded me many times that they all love me to death. He knows my insecurities, a lot of them do, and they've never judged me for them or been put off by them, so it's not that I'm afraid that I'm going to ruin things. It's just frustrating. I'm tired of spending time wondering why instead of just enjoying what I have.

It's been three and a half years. Is this ever going to make sense? Will I ever believe that I'm enough, that I deserve to be loved, that there doesn't have to be some crazy explanation for "guys like them" to love a "girl like me?"

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - from The Perks of Being a Wallflower...if this is true, Lord, please let me believe I deserve this, because I'm tired of my head being at war with itself.

I am crazy loved by some amazing guys who are the best friends a girl could ask for.

That's the truth.

That's what matters.

And that's more than enough.

Sometimes you just need to hear the words.

Dude. Real talk?

Most of yesterday sucked.

I got another PhD rejection letter which, so far, brings the total to 4 rejections and 0 acceptances, which, you know, is just fantastic for a girl's self-esteem.

I wasn't in a good mood because, well, Valentine's Day. And I was in pain.

Mom's been super, super sick lately.

So it just felt like everything was gonna go wrong.

And then I decided to do something that would make me feel good but also make other people feel good, too, so I sent video messages to three of my favorite guys. That alone made my mood perk up a good bit, but then I got a response from one of them that honestly turned my whole day around.

There's something about hearing the words, "You know I love you. I always do. I always will," that just brings such peace to my soul sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I'm always very much a words of affirmation person, but there are certain times more than others where hearing the words really calms me down, and yesterday was one of those times. It's really hard for me to be so far away from everyone that I love, and because Mom's so sick, my relationship with her has been tense and stressful and distant, so I've really felt like I have no one. But getting the message I did from my brother, it came at exactly the right time to remind me that even though there's no one physically near me, I am not alone. I am so crazy loved.

So for the rest of the day (and let's be honest, a good portion of today), I've replayed that video as many times as I need or want just to make myself smile and remind myself of the truth, of how lucky I am to have this love in my life.

Because there's nothing wrong with just needing to hear the words.

(And then Matt came over for a few minutes last night, so I really got a special treat on top of my day turning around.)

We could be the greatest team that the world has ever seen.

Might as well fit in one more blog post before the end of the month.

Last Saturday, I got to go to Campbell for a soccer game and to see my boys!!

It was the one big event I'd been counting down to since I moved back here, so I was so, so relieved that Mom held up her promise and got me to the game. It was the last Saturday home game of the season, so she knew it really was the last chance, and how important it was to me.

The game was a heartbreaking last-second loss, and those sweet boys actually said they were sorry they couldn't "get the win for [me]." I told them that I was there for them, that the game was completely secondary. Really, if I just wanted to watch soccer, I could stay home with my computer. They're what is important.

I only got to see them for a short time because Mom and I had a late drive home and they were exhausted, but that was sweet enough. I got hugs and pictures (which they well know is enough to make me giddy happy), and I gave a few sister pep talks, and when I left and got to the car, Mom looked at me and said, "You're really happy, aren't you?"

And I was. So very happy. Those boys are my home; they're where I feel safest. It's funny, even Seth and Josh, whom I only met last year, are included in that. I can't explain it. All I know is that the bond I have with them is about as close to perfect as I could ask for.

Seth, me, Matt, Pepe

Josh, me, Matt

I'd go to the ends of the earth for these boys, so a two hour drive was nothing.

I'll take the human ones any day.

Well, Hurricane Matthew has officially arrived. Surprisingly, the center of the state seems to have gotten it worse than we have down here on the coast, but it's still not exactly pleasant here. Downtown is getting beaten because it is right on sea level.

So I've been passing time with a lot of music, TV, and sports. There have been a couple good games that make me very happy.

First, the Campbell boys beat UNC Asheville, the conference leaders who were on a 3-0 conference streak, 2-1. UNCA came very close to tying the game on a penalty kick, but Matt, my little brother, made a gorgeous dive and saved it. The whole team was just on point. The offense was fierce as hell in the first half, and aside from the one goal, the defense was not letting UNCA get away with anything. It was beautiful. But hands down, the most amazing part of the game for me was Matt saving that PK. If you know anything about soccer, you know that it is very, very hard to block a PK. Besides that, he made several great stops on all of the other attempts that UNCA had to tie the game. I'm so proud of him. I call him Triple Time because he is just so good.

Then, today, the Wolfpack hosted Notre Dame. In a monsoon. Not joking. It was like a 100-yard game of slip and slide for 3 hours. So statistics were totally screwed for both teams, but the Wolfpack won out 10-3 after we blocked a punt and returned it for a touchdown. It was kind of funny, though, watching it on TV. You could see the guys just flying around. They'd fall and make splashes taller than they were. The balls were so hard for anyone to hold on to, even for our QB who had amazing stats coming into this game (he's from Phoenix, poor guy, this must be a shock to his system). But ahhh, then there's Matt Dayes. This dude must have the strongest thighs in the world. He's a running back and he can often get several extra yards even after he has two or three defenders hanging on to him trying to bring him down. He is easily my favorite Wolfpack offensive player. (Jack Tocho is my favorite defensive man, but that's for a whole different post.) Get this: Notre Dame had 113 yards of total offense for the game. Matt? Had 140. One guy had 27 more yards of offense than an entire team.  His goal is to get 1,000 yards rushing this season; he's already at 563 five games into a twelve-game season. I really really hope he doesn't get injured like he did last year; otherwise, he probably would have hit it last year.

These two boys are their own kind of hurricanes, and the only damage they cause is to their opponents. Yeah, I'll go with them. Mark, Luke, and John can come take care of the other one.

Not My Time Yet

The surgery on Monday didn't go like we planned, to say the least.

And by that, I mean they couldn't even do the surgery. Because it was a laparoscopy, the first step was to inflate my stomach with gas. Usually, when they do this, a patient's blood pressure and heart rate slowly decrease to a low level and remain there during the surgery.

Well, with me, the queen of freak extreme reactions, my heart rate went from 60+ to 0 in just a few seconds.

Yeah, zero.

I flatlined.

I was clinically dead for about a minute, until they managed to restart my heart with drugs and chest compressions.

Needless to say, they stopped the surgery there. I woke up from the anesthesia as they were wheeling me to the post-op, and I remember my first thought being "I should be in a lot more pain than this." Not long after that, the anesthesiologist started talking, and I could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying, but those bits and pieces were plenty.

"couldn't do the surgery" "heart stopped" "a minute" "epinephrine" "chest compressions"

It's hard enough to figure out where you are when you're coming out of surgery. That's one hell of a wakeup greeting. I immediately started sobbing, but they had an oxygen mask on me, so everything was super dry, so there were no tears, just my whole body shaking. It was...not pleasant. Holly could barely speak when they brought her in there and I told her what happened.

They kept me overnight to monitor my heart and run a couple of tests, just to make sure that my heart was okay and that this was indeed just a rare extreme reaction to the gas. I figured it would be, because I've never had a problem with my heart, surgically or otherwise.

Once I got upstairs, I had to deal with this crazy old lady roommate, so it was about an hour before they moved me and I actually got somewhere comfortable. She was screaming because some friends of mine from church called to pray over me, even though I had headphones in and was speaking barely above a whisper. The nurse was in and out doing things, so I even confirmed with her that I was not being loud (because I know that sometimes I can be without realizing it), and she looked at me and mouthed "No, I'm so sorry." So they moved me to a different section of the floor where I didn't sleep (because I never do in hospitals more than a couple hours) but I at least had some peace and could talk to people without being screamed at. Hospitals make me incredibly anxious when I'm there alone. I was not going to apologize for talking to my people.

The best part of the whole time was getting to FaceTime with two of my soccer boys. They were so, so sweet, and it was really humbling to see how worried they were about me. Don't get me wrong; obviously, I knew they love me, but I just never really thought about how important me being in their lives is to them.

The first one told me that losing me was something he didn't even want to think about as a possibility, and so I just tried to reassure him like "Hey, I'm right here. I'm fine. I'm right here." I was kind of cracking jokes and trying to laugh it off because that's generally how I process stuff like this at first, and he said "You're suppressing the emotions, aren't you? This is the last thing you should be laughing off." I told him that if I didn't laugh, I'd cry, and not long after that, he started crying. That broke my heart. This kid is the type of guy who is always Mr. Stoic, cool, it's all good. The only times I've seen him remotely upset outside of a soccer game loss are the first time he saw me have a seizure and the night he found out I got bullied. So to see him that emotional just at the idea of something happening to me was so, so humbling. The cutest part was that he was practically falling asleep while on FaceTime, but he refused to hang up until he knew that the second guy was awake and was going to call me. He told me "I can't leave you alone right now," but I think that was more for his own sanity than it was for me.

The second brother called me while I was saying goodbye to the first one, and I ended up going out in the hallway to talk to him because at this point it was really late. He told me some of the same things the first one did, about how badly it scared him when I sent him the first text about my heart stopping. He said he and the first guy (they're close friends) had texted each other when they first got my message freaking out. He told me that he refused to let himself cry all day until he got to talk to me because he thought that if he did, he wouldn't stop. That made me feel so bad for scaring them like that, but again, it was just so humbling to hear that stuff from him, about how losing me or something happening to me would kill him. He told me some of the reasons why I was so important to them, and it was honestly so mind-boggling to hear it spelled right out for me. Like I said before, it wasn't that I didn't know they love me, because of course I do, I just didn't really realize how important having me in their lives is to them. They really would miss me if I was gone, and that's something that is incredibly humbling for me, especially because I spent so long before I met these boys really feeling like no one would care if I disappeared. I'm so lucky to be so loved. Anyway, this second brother and I basically spent the rest of the time just cracking jokes and laughing with each other, which is the norm for us, I think because he just didn't want to let himself get emotional over what happened.

I texted them the next morning to let them know nothing had happened overnight, and they told me thank you. Not even kidding.

Tuesday was when the reality of it all really sunk in for me. I mean, I had the words of the anesthesiologist ricocheting around my head all night (I only slept about two hours), but it still sort of  seemed like a dream. No one really wants to think that would happen to them. I broke down crying after I talked to the doctors because it was sinking in for me, but my nurse gave me a hug and helped me calm down. And when I was getting the echocardiogram (basically an ultrasound of my heart) and the tech doing it said that "asystole" was in the order for the scan I was sort of like "Oh crap, this is real. This really wasn't some bad dream."

I got home at like 6:30 on Tuesday, and I was so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained that I basically just collapsed in the chair and didn't move unless absolutely necessary for the next three days almost. Everything about me was exhausted in every sense of the word, but because I was finally in the comfort of my own home and had peace and quiet, the nightmares came out.

All I could think when I was awake about was the fact that I was dead for a minute and barely more than 24 hours after the fact, I was home almost as if nothing happened.

And when I sleep, I've been having variations of the same nightmare: people are nonchalantly telling me I'm gonna die soon and there's nothing I can do about it, and I just keep saying over and over again, "I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die."

You know, I think I do a pretty good job most of the time at accepting the difficulties of the life that I have. A lot of the time, I can even honestly say that I'm grateful for it, because of the ways that I know it has helped people and given me ways to support others through their own struggles. At those points, it's easy for me to focus on the purpose that my life has.

But this week, I've really been struggling with understanding what the point of what happened on Monday was. Why did I need to have another near death experience? This was supposed to be a relatively minor surgery, compared to a lot of the other ones I've had. Is it not enough that I have all of these medical problems to deal with? Does treating them really have to be so freaking complicated, too? Isn't the story I have to tell great enough?

Basically, I'm at that point where I just really wish I could get a break from having to fight so hard to do the most basic things. I don't like feeling or sounding self-pitying, but that's the truth. I'm tired.

So little of this makes sense right now. I feel like I could be handling it a lot better if I just had a little bit of a clue as to what the point is. I know that God's ways are greater than mine and I'm not always supposed to understand, but I'm kind of going, "Can't you just give me a little bit of a clue?!" right now.

It's not a matter of me doubting my faith or anything like that. I know that God is good and faithful as much now as I ever have, and I am so, so grateful to have made it through that surgery alive.

I'm lucky to serve a God who is greater than medical standards and explanations, because God has made it clear that it's not my time to go yet. I guess that, for now, all I can do is try to make the best of the extra chance I've been given.

Lucky

Yesterday was the birthday of one of my brothers. Since this brother is one of the ones I'm closest to, he got a cheesy IG birthday post from me (yes, I can own my cheesiness) (I prefer to say I'm sentimental).

Between that and talking to him to see how his day was, I can't but think once again just how grateful I am to have the place in their lives that I do. More than pretty much anyone else in my life, it makes me feel so good to support them and make them happy.

I've been trying to figure out why exactly they are so much more special to me than most people in my life. I've boiled the answer down to three reasons.

1) They are the first people who never once made me feel like I had to try to impress them. They saw me just as I was from the very first night, even when I still had walls up, and decided they wanted me in their group. It frankly still makes no sense to me some days, and I often catch myself bracing for the moment when they tell me they don't want me anymore, even though I rationally know that's never going to happen. They've seen me at my worst, and not only did they help me through it, they stayed around for when it got better. For when I got better.

2) They saved my life, more times than they know. A former therapist told me that I have this tendency to think that I have to do things in order to make people want to be my friend, and she's right. And I know that I don't owe them anything - these boys have never asked for so much as a thank you for all they've done - but I feel this innate desire to live out the gratitude that I feel and take care of them the way they have so often taken care of me.

3) I feel so, so lucky every single day that I'm the one they "chose." I mean, I'm not the only person who regularly went to their games my senior year. I didn't do anything to try to make myself stand out among the crowd. I just happened to know Bryce, and he happened to invite me to one of the after-game meals, but I wasn't the only non-player there, either. I started going to the games regularly for Bryce and because I like soccer. He kept inviting me to the meals. And I happen to be a 100% extrovert who took the opportunity to talk to some of the best-looking guys on campus and ran with it. I didn't know they'd like me. It wasn't my goal to make them like me.

I didn't realize it until after I started to trust them that a big part of the reason I kept going back in the beginning even though it terrified me was that I really just liked the attention. I felt seen for the first time in a very long time by some of the last people I expected. They saw past my size and my looks. They saw past my sicknesses and seizures. They saw past my walls and scars and baggage. They saw me for who I was, and they helped me become who I wanted to be, a girl not held back behind walls or tied down by fear. So many other people decided I was too much to deal with. These guys decided I was worth it. They helped me believe that I was worth it, too.

And the lessons didn't stop when I graduated. (Otherwise, I wouldn't still be writing about them two years later.) They remind me of and reteach me about unconditional love any time I get to have a conversation with one of them. Yes, it's more complicated now that there's distance between us, but another thing these relationships have taught me is that love transcends all, even distance.

So yeah. They're my boys. I'm their sister. Lucky, lucky me.

It's not just a ball.

I've written a good bit on this blog about this soccer ball over the two years that I've had it.

I admit, most people probably wouldn't write so much about a soccer ball. But I've never been "most people."

I was looking back through my Facebook tonight and found this article , and it reminded me why this ball will never be just a soccer ball.

That ball is a reminder of the love I found that I didn't even know I needed until I had it.

It holds memories from that year that make up some of my favorite times in all of college - really, in my whole life.

But most of all, the autographs on that ball symbolize relationships that have forever changed me. They are representations of the boys who taught me what I deserve and what real respect and love look like. My boys, just by the way they live, taught me more than I explain about how I deserve to be treated.

I know they won't let me settle. They're not afraid to call me out on my crap, and I know that any one of them wouldn't be afraid to tell me if a guy I was interested in was bad news (some of them already have). I've said a few times about how whatever guy I end up will have a lot to live up to and a lot of approval to earn, and it's always been in a joking tone, but it's not really a joke.

Because of them, I know that good guys really do exist and what they look like.

Because of them, I know what it feels like to have guys truly be concerned about me and my best interest, instead of being interested in taking advantage of my big heart.

Because of them, I know what it's like to have someone answer the phone late at night just to tell me they love me because they know I need it.

Because of them, I know what it feels like to have people who will do anything to make me laugh when I need it, and that I don't have to be ashamed of needing that support.

Because of them, I know what it's like to have someone who doesn't give up when I push them away.

And most of all, because of them, I know what it's like to feel that I'm good enough, that I'm worthy of being loved, that I'm worthy of having one of the good ones. I know what it feels like to believe that I don't have to settle.

This soccer ball sitting on my desk may be just a ball to everyone else, but to me, it's a physical representation of one of the best years of my life, some of my favorite memories, and the boys whose love and friendship can never be forgotten or replaced.

So yes, I am a bit emotionally attached to this soccer ball. Because it's never been "just a ball" to me. And it never will be.

Five Little Words

Some days, I just get really fed up with having to deal with all these different physical and medical issues.

And I especially get really fed up when doctors have no idea what is wrong with me, let alone how to treat it.

The pain in my leg keeps getting worse and worse, to the point that it made me pass out and I ended up in the ER again today. But all the tests and examinations I've had can't find anything wrong. So I dope myself up on Vicodin and muscle relaxers just so I can escape the pain for a while, except then it knocks me out for hours on end and I miss out on valuable work time.

Basically, it feels like I can't win.

While I sat in the ER today, I got tired of sitting there feeling sorry for myself, so I texted my brother Chirag and told him I was in need of one of his pep talks. He is one of those people who just exudes positivity seemingly all the time, and I know he is always there to give me some perspective and lift me up when I need it.

Boy, did he ever. He gave me what I think is one of his best pep talks yet. There are so many things he said that made me smile for the first time today, but it was the five last words of his text that stood out to me the most.

I believe in you, Mal.

This is what I meant when I said that my boys have done so, so much for me in the time that we have been family to save me from myself, just by the way they live. Five little words from Chirag was all it took to remind me that even when the stress of everything I'm dealing with feels too much to bear, I am never alone. Just hearing (or reading, in this case) that my brother believes in me even when I feel like I'm struggling just to keep my head above the water was just the reminder I needed that I have people cheering me on and that I am capable of so much more than I think I am most of the time.

This is why I keep that soccer ball on my desk; it's a physical reminder that no matter where I am or where they are or what is going on, I have an army of brothers at my back who have cheered me on, held me up, and kept me going from the very beginning. Chirag reminded me to keep searching for the beauty in every day...I told him that talking to him was the beauty in today because it/he reminded me just how blessed I am to have a community near and far that loves me so well.

Five little words. That's all it took for me to be able to catch my breath.

The power of words, y'all. It never ceases to amaze me.

The Way You Live

Today is the birthday of one of my brothers. Naturally, I called and sang for him. I even made an Instagram post for him because he was one of the first ones Bryce introduced me to, and thus was one of the first ones to integrate me into the group. He knows that he's always been very dear to me.

My boys are all very aware of the fact that I am a) very sentimental and b) very open about my gratitude and love for them. And lucky for me, they all seem to appreciate it, or at the very least, they accept me just as I am and don't expect me to change. So this particular brother and I have been texting throughout the day today because he originally sent me a message to thank me for the song left on his voicemail and the IG post. One part of the exchange said this:

Me: If you ever need a friend or just someone to listen, I'm here for you anytime. There's not a thing I wouldn't do for my boys. You guys saved me.
Him: That means a lot. And the same goes for you! And don't say that. You saved yourself. You're a lot stronger than you think, Mal! Keep bringing positivity!
Me: No, see, here's the thing. I'm strong because I have people like you. That year was harder for me than I let on. I genuinely don't know if or how I would have made it to graduation without you boys. When my seizures came back as frequent and hard as they did, it was a battle not to let my depression win. But being around you guys with your infectious, bold, silly personalities, you guys made everything seem okay in the world any time I was with you. And the way you guys accepted and believed in me, that kept me going on the days I felt like giving up because it helped me remember that I could do anything. I pushed myself to go to your games because you guys brightened up my whole life. Even when I was too sick to leave my dorm, I knew that you guys were with me every step of the way. You guys made me your sister when I was scared to trust you and wasn't even sure I wanted you to. Now, I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I hope I never have to.

Yet again, these guys have proven that they don't understand just how much they did for me. And in a way, I get that. There weren't a lot of outright actions they did that made them so special. But that's the thing - they didn't have to do things.

It was just the way they lived and the way they loved me that saved me from the darkness and saved me from giving up on myself.

It was the way they made me feel accepted and normal, two feelings that haven't been so frequent in my life, that reinforced the lessons I've been struggling to learn about what I'm worth and what I deserve.

It was the way they made sure I knew they were always there for me to talk to, the way they listened, that kept me from thinking I had to do everything that year on my own.

It was the way they asked me how I was feeling any time we saw each other that kept me from forgetting that people genuinely cared about what I was struggling through.

It was the way they kept me smiling without even trying that helped me remember that the bad days wouldn't last forever.

And now, looking back, because there weren't a lot of specific actions they can point out, they underestimate the power of the way they lived their lives, and that's why I'll never stop reminding them of all the good they are capable of without even trying. They saved me from the darkness and from myself just because of who they are and the way they lived. Because of that, any time I tell my story to people, they have always been and will always be a part of it because they made me a stronger person and a better friend.

I know they're not the only people like this, but they are the most obvious example of it in my life.

To me, it seems like we're surrounded by so much bad stuff in the world that we forget the power of choosing to care, choosing to listen, choosing to be present, choosing to love, especially when other people don't or won't. These are things you can't always put words to, but they are the things that can radically change lives. They are the things that beat the darkness. They are the things that can save people from themselves. That there is often the best gift you can possibly give someone.

Two years later, and my boys are still teaching me about what unconditional love looks like. To this day, I have my soccer ball sitting on my desk that serves as a constant reminder of the army of brothers I have at my back every step of the way, as well as a reminder to pray for them. Hundreds of miles may stand between us, but those boys still help keep me going, and if I can just help them understand the power they have, then I feel like I have succeeded.

So if there's one thing I can say to those of you reading this tonight, it's this: the way you live holds great power. It can be used for greatness and help strengthen people, teach them, and change their lives for the better, or it can be used to break them and shatter already fragile hearts. Choose the former. Beautiful things will happen.

To my boys (because I'm hoping at least some of you will read this): You are more powerful than you know. You are capable of more good than you can imagine. I'm serious when I say that you saved me, and the gratitude and love I feel for you exceeds words, and you know how hard it is for me to be out of words. Keep being you, keep living the way you have since I met you, and mine won't be the only life you change. Trust me on that one. You are influential and mighty and fierce in the best possible way.

These Two

In just a few hours, these two boys of mine will be in the middle of their graduation ceremony. This is another time I'm really grateful for whoever invented the livestream, because I get the joy of watching it happen from more than 500 miles away.

I would scream it from the rooftops if I could just how proud I am of these two. They have stories that inspire me, faith that teaches me, and wisdom that pushes me to grow. They are two of my most favorite people in all the world, and tomorrow will mean as much to me as it would if it were Holly's graduation. I'm so proud of who they are and who I know they'll become. I know that God has great and wild plans for them, and I'm so honored that I get to play even a small part in all of it, because I know that they are going to do big things. There's not a doubt in my mind that God is going to use them to affect people.

They are an example of why my heart will always be tied to Campbell. I originally didn't even want to go to that school, but God knew that it was exactly what I needed. It may have taken me a few years, but I found the first family I felt like I could really trust and was completely safe with. I found the people who broke all the stereotypes I held because of my scars, and when I expected them to reject me, they instead insisted on getting close to me and taking me in. That campus will forever hold some of my dearest memories and spots that will stick in my mind holding stories that I cherish. I can't imagine what my life would look like now if I hadn't met my boys, especially Reafe and Ricky, and I'm so glad I don't have to know, because they have changed my life impermeably and forever. They're too humble to admit how wonderful they are or what a gift they are to me, but I'll keep saying it because my gratitude for and awe of them hasn't been diminished one bit. Campbell will always be not just my alma mater, but also the place where I met my best friends.

These two are also a prime example of why I can never regret my friendship with Ryann. I did initially because I was so hurt, but the truth is that while she may have caused me a great deal of pain in the end, it was because of her that I got to know these boys. Because I knew her, she took me to lunch the day that I initially met Bryce. Because I met Bryce, I knew who he was when I randomly went to the soccer game with Paige. Because I was at the game, I was in the parking lot to run into him after the game where he called me his good luck charm and asked me to come back. And it was because I came back that he invited me to the after-game meals and he introduced me/I introduced myself to the boys. So yeah, I will always be grateful I was friends with her because I now have these guys whose loyalty to me I can't ever question.

I am more than ready to go back to Campbell in a month (a month from tomorrow, actually!), but I already know that it's going to be really, really weird to see the other boys and not have Reafe and Ricky there. I know that leaving is what they have to do and what is best for them, but with them both being from other countries, I selfishly wish they'd still be there, because it's scary not knowing when you'll be reunited with two people that you love more than you can put into words. I'm thankful that God showered His grace upon us so that we could form this bond to begin with, and I have faith that God will bring us back together one day sooner than I expect. I also know that the bond we have is one that will outlast time and distance.

But that doesn't mean I'm not sad. I remember how I felt when I saw them for the last time before I graduated, but then at least I knew I'd be able to come back to visit. And when I saw them last January, I didn't realize they were graduating now; I thought they'd be graduating in May and I would get one more visit with them. So I didn't know that that time was my last. So I'm sad. Sad that I didn't treasure those goodbye hugs enough to last me for who-knows-how-long; y'all know what hugs mean to me. Sad that I didn't know just how big of a deal saying goodbye really was last time. Sad that I didn't have as much time as I thought I did. Sad that things are going to be very different when I visit this time.

Sigh. This is what happens in life, I guess. People grow up and you move apart and your best friends stop being minutes away. Some friendships will outlast the changes. But some won't, and that's the scary part. I don't want to lose any of these guys. But one thing I know is that God has proven His faithfulness in my friendships. He has brought exactly the people that I needed when I needed them and has kept the people who needed to be here in my life. He knows what is coming for me and all of the boys, and He knows where we'll be one, five, ten years from now. God knows what He's doing, of this I am sure.

Well, this post took a much more serious tone than I originally intended. Ah well, I'm choosing not to think so far in the future for now, and instead focus on tomorrow, my two incredible brothers, and the huge milestone that tomorrow is. I choose to celebrate them. They've earned it.

Four Hours

You know that feeling when you spend a really long time on the phone with someone, and when it's over, you can't really believe it was that long because it didn't feel like that much time had passed?

Yeah, that was me tonight. I spent four hours on FaceTime with Ricky tonight. Four hours. I want to say I didn't know I had the stamina for that, but let's be real, this is me we're talking about. I guess it's more along the lines of I didn't know I could have a conversation that long and not have there be any awkward pauses where we run out of things to say. I think our last record was three hours, but the first two of that were basically spent with me just watching him play FIFA. This was four solid hours of talking and singing songs for each other.

And it was amazing. Granted, I have a lot of work to do, but this was so worth it. The work will get done. It always does. I knew from the beginning that he needed it, but what I didn't realize was that I needed it, too. Isn't it funny how that works? You think you're doing something to help someone, and then you end up getting a big benefit from it, as well. It's like God knows what He's doing or something.

After some of the things we covered tonight, I just can't help but say that I so dearly love this guy. He has a pretty powerful story, too, totally different from mine but still very powerful, so we understand each other in a way that most people can't or don't. It's comforting to have someone who grapples with a lot of the same questions that I do and who approaches things from the same perspective. It's a safe place for the both of us. I told him today there's nothing he doesn't know about me, and he said I know everything about him, too, and it just spoke to me how safe we both really do feel. It's a friendship where I have no doubts that it's a two-way, symbiotic, both-are-giving-and-receiving kind of friendship because we've both needed to be there for each other over the past few months. We know what the other one needs. And I never feel more fulfilled than when I get to help people.

Ricky makes me feel adored, and valued, and appreciated. He's the kind of man I would like to marry one day. I'm so thankful I get to call him my big brother.

On to the semis!

Oh my boys.

November certainly has been an interesting month for them.

November 4th, they played Liberty and one of the freshmen whom I've started getting to know and already semi-adopted scored this AMAZING goal on a free kick from like 30 yards out. It was so amazing it got recognized by FOX Soccer. A huge deal for someone from this tiny school. Watch. :)



November 7th, they had their final regular season game against UNC Asheville. As I said before, if they won this, they would earn the #4 seed in the conference and earn the right to host their quarterfinal match of the tournament. A kid named Brad scored his 14th goal of the season to secure the 1-0 win for us. Quarterfinal at home Tuesday!

Then came tonight. Game against Longwood, playing for passage to the semifinals. Longwood beat us 2-1 at the end of September, so not only was this big for tournament reasons, I knew it would feel good for the boys to get a revenge win. This game was INTENSE. The field was muddy because they've been getting a ton of rain, so bodies were flying all over the place, leading to some fouls that may not have happened if the field were dry. It also led to some hilarious moments from Josh and Isaiah where they LEAPED over defenders who had slipped in front of them. Longwood got on the board first off a corner kick. Brad (surprise surprise) spun around like three defenders AND the goalie and scored a goal just five minutes later. Then, Longwood got up 2-1 just before halftime.

I may or may not have screaming at my computer throughout the second half, praying that they would at least get an equalizer to send it to overtime. Oh, me of little faith. ;) 72nd minute, Reafe sent a pass to Isaiah, and he legit shot the ball through the goalie's legs. Hope was alive! And THEN, 83rd minute, another freshman scored a beautiful game winner!!



Now, on to the semifinals! Friday, they play Winthrop, the #1 seed. Winthrop beat us 4-1 a few weeks ago, so suffice it to say, this will be a huge upset if they can pull it off.

But you know what? Just like that video says, these guys have character, and they know how to keep believing. With that, and the skill I know they have, anything is possible come Friday.

Go Camels!

Because of course I'd get sick now.

Now, when school work really picks up as we head towards the end of the semester.

Now, when I have to really dig into internship applications.

Now, when PhD application deadline are creeping up on me.

What started out on Tuesday as me just thinking I overworked my vocal chords sending too many singing videos to Summer ended up by Thursday as me sounding like a 70-year-old pack-a-day smoker.

I went to the doctor that afternoon because I had to miss class again, and not only did the doctor tell me that it was good I didn't try to go to class that day, but considering how the symptoms had only been around for a couple days (and Thursday was really only the first day I truly felt terrible), that I was probably going to get worse before I got better.

He gave me an antibiotic prescription and told me that I should wait a week and see if I got better before I filled it. Saturday, I woke up wheezing, which meant it was REALLY moving into my lungs, so I said screw that and filled it yesterday. I cannot afford the risk of my lungs getting really bad off because I cannot afford landing in the hospital.

The upside to this crappy weekend is that I had an overload of sports and that always makes me at least a little bit happier.

My boys won at UNC Asheville, their final regular season game. This meant that they ended up 9-8 and got a winning season for the first time since 2012. But not only that. This also meant they ended up 4th in the conference so they get their quarterfinal match in the championship AT Campbell on Tuesday. It's always good to play on a field you know.

Wolfpack football beat Boston College AT BC 24-8. This is the first time any team has beaten BC on their field since BC joined our conference and the first time the Wolfpack has beaten BC on their field since 1937 (!!!!). Plus BC had the #1 defense in the FBS, and the Wolfpack absolutely crushed the averages they had for defense coming into the game.

And to top it off, Wolfpack basketball had their pre-season exhibition game today and won it. This means that basketball season is here.

So at least there is something going for me this weekend.

No Greater Love

I spent close to three hours on FaceTime tonight with Ricky. The first two hours of it were basically spent me watching him play FIFA, but honestly, I've been wanting company so badly that even that was fun for me. When I finally got him to take a break from that, we started reading some Scripture together and got to talking about our friendship and our stories. That was when he told me something that I'm pretty sure I'm going to remember for the rest of my life.

I'm too tired to remember his exact words, so I'll paraphrase. He basically told me that if he had the choice to either save his life or save mine, he would save mine. If he had to do it 100 times, he would always save mine. And it wasn't just because he loves me, it was because I'm such a miracle that he couldn't let that be taken away from the world. He said that he may bring one or two people to God over the course of his life, but that he believes with the story I have to tell, I could bring hundreds. He wouldn't even consider it a loss for him to give up his life for me to live; he'd consider it a blessing because I have so much more good to do than he ever could.

While I'm not so sure about that last bit, hearing that from him literally brought me to tears in the middle of our call. I don't know that anyone has ever straight out told me that they would give up their life to save mine. And even if they have, I know that it wasn't because of what Ricky said. To say that it's humbling to hear someone loves you that much is the understatement of the century.

But here's the thing. That wasn't the whole reason that I started crying. As I listened to what he had to say, it hit me like a ton of bricks just how amazing God's powers of redemption really are. I spent so much of my life believing not only that I would never find love, but that I didn't deserve to find it, so to have someone right in front of me act as living, breathing proof of how far God will go to answer prayers beyond your wildest imagination? That's a feeling beyond anything I can ever put into words.

As Ricky also said, God knew what I needed before I was even born. He knew I would need a brother like this, so he created Ricky two years before I ever existed. That is the kind of God we serve. Before the beginning of time, He has our whole lives planned and displayed out in front of Him. He knows exactly who we need and exactly when we'll meet them. As much as I wish I had met him and the rest of my boys earlier on in my time at Campbell so I could have gotten more time with them, I can see the beauty in our family forming when it did.

Since we got so little time together on campus, it's that much clearer and powerful how close we are now. When most people would have let the distance make things fall apart, especially only after having a few months together in person, our bonds have only grown tighter with time, despite me being so far away now. That's God's grace in action, that He would choose not only to bless us with each other, but to help us keep our family and love for each other strong.

The danger of putting your heart on the line, the danger of choosing to trust and love again even after you've been hurt, is that you risk giving a piece of your heart and yourself to someone who may not love and appreciate you as much as you do them. That's a fear I struggle with. It's exactly why I was so scared to trust these boys in the beginning. I couldn't figure out how a girl like me deserved to hang out with the gorgeous athletes, some of the most popular boys on campus. I couldn't convince myself that it was real. So I was completely terrified that it would all fall apart, that I would let them in only to get crushed like I had by so many other gorgeous, popular boys in my past.

Whether they know it or not, those rowdy boys are Jesus in the flesh to me every single day just by the way that they love me. From the beginning, they have told me that I was enough, enough just as I am, enough to be worthy of love. They make me feel safe, and seen, and beautiful, and that brings such comfort to a bruised and battered heart like mine. I think of the way that they love me, and I am instantly reminded of the fact that God loves me infinitely more than they do. And that's just amazing to me, because it's hard for me to imagine love beyond what these boys have shown me from day one.

So to hear Ricky so plainly say that he would give up his life for me, that was a reminder to me of the God who already did just that.

And it's because of that love that's beyond all understanding that I know I would give up my life to save any one of those boys. I can't imagine loving them any less. And for the first time in my life, I know beyond all doubt that the feeling is mutual.

"Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." ~ John 15:13

It's all about balance.

I met with a deacon from my church today. When I told her about the loneliness I've been battling and how much I wish I could get back to my soccer boys, and how wrapped up I have been in trying to take care of them and support them because of the different issues several of them are struggling with, she told me it sounds like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I couldn't really argue with that.

But she also told me not to completely shut that part of me down, either, because God has clearly given me a gift of giving, in the sense of encouragement and support, and it would be a bad idea to stop using what God has given me to share with the world. We weren't meant to do this life alone. Galatians (at least, I think it's Galatians) says to bear one another's burdens for a reason.

I guess I just need to remember that, like everything in life, the key is to finding the balance between the two. Still being there for the people that I love (because let's be real, I can't imagine being any other way with my boys) but not let myself take it on as my responsibility to fix.

Because I'm not God. I can't fix everything, no matter how badly I want to.

What I can do is support them the best I know how and help pull them out of the dark holes, just like they've done for me.

So yeah, it's about balance.

Balance between taking care of the people I love and taking care of myself and my needs, too.

Balance between helping them through their problems and trying to take them over.

Supporting without micromanaging.

Loving recklessly without losing sight of myself.

Assuring them of better days to come without expecting myself to make those better days come more quickly.

Love can't fix everything, but it sure can make the bad stuff a heck of a lot easier to walk through. And sometimes, that's the only help people need - just a loving hand helping them forward one step at a time.

What to do when your heart's in two places.

"Just think where you are! You're in NYC. People could only dream of living there."

This is what Jay told me when I talked to him about the loneliness I've been battling lately. It's also, frankly, what I've been telling myself a lot.

I know how lucky I am to be here, and I know that this is where I'm supposed to be at this point in my life in terms of schooling and figuring out the next step in my life and whatnot.

But in terms of fitting in? I just still don't feel like I belong here.

The only people I can really consider my friends at all are the people at church, but I really don't talk to them at all outside of Sundays, let alone see them. I never see Holly anymore, and the people in my classes are friendly in class, but everyone just rushes off as soon as it's over so there's no opportunity to talk. Because this is life in the city. Everyone is on the move all the time.

I do love my church, though. They are a family. They are the first church that I've really had good experiences at/with (Theater Church, looking back, was not a healthy place for me to be). I wouldn't have made it through this past year without them. And I am so, so glad I found them and am with them as a part of this church community.

But NC, Campbell, that's still where my heart says I belong. That's what I think when I say the word "home," which is why I tweeted this to Isaiah last night.

@izzyest21 Your #1 will be coming home where she belongs! Even if only for a few days.

— Mallory Jones (@_callmemal) October 18, 2015

Because in my gut, that's what it feels like. Even though my life and my mood have drastically improved over the past few weeks, I still can't wait to get home. I can't wait to have girl time with Summer, and see Nicole's house, and laugh with my boys again. I can't wait to give them the hugs that are long overdue. I can't wait to be surrounded by their infectious personalities and get that everything-is-right-in-the-world feeling that I seem to only get when I'm with them.

That tiny little campus out in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, that was the first place that ever felt completely safe for me. There wasn't anywhere close to the drama I had to deal with in Swansboro, and I met so many people that, when I did have problems, I knew would have my back without a second thought, people who are still with me even when we're so far apart.

I guess I'm just tired of being so far away from everything and everyone that makes sense to me. From the people who know me in my bones and that I have security with. It's like as soon as I found those people, and I found that security, I had to leave. And even though I know I still have that tight bond with several of them, it's just not the same. I can't get hugs from them when I'm sad, and I can't hug them and be right there with them when they need me. I hear their voices on the phone or see their faces on FaceTime, and it simultaneously makes me so happy because it reminds me of the authentic friendships that I have but it also makes my heart hurt because it reminds me that 530 miles is a lot and I can't get back there until January, and when I do, it'll only be a few days before I have to leave again and go through that heartache of remembering what I'm leaving behind all over again, just like I did this past January. Once a year for the people who know you the best and love you the most is just not enough.

So yeah, my heart is torn between here, the city I've always dreamed of living in and know is where I'm supposed to be, and there, the place that makes me feel safe and secure and has all the people that make everything seem okay and make me feel like I can conquer the world.

But is there really anything I can do? I don't have the money to go back early.

So all I can do is just suck it up and grow up and learn to deal with it. I'm not a real big fan of that answer, but it's all I've got.