So long Prince Charming

This is my declaration.

I do not want Prince Charming.
I do not want to be rescued,
or found.
I do not want to be admired, fawned over, praised,
or respected for my extraordinary beauty.
I do not want to hear how I am already beautiful
even though I don't have the right curves, right clothing, right skin, or right BMI.


Because Prince Charming implies
that I must be the princess of the fairy tale.
Because being rescued implies
that I was in harm's path.
Because being found implies
that I was lost.
Because being admired for my beauty implies
that I am my looks.
Because saying that I'm beautiful despite my lack of rightness implies
that there is a standard of beauty.


I am not the fairy tale princess.
(I do more than sleep, sing, and look pretty)
I am not in harm's path.
(I am also capable of getting out of harm's way if by chance I ever am)
I am not lost.
(I am taking the scenic route)
I am not my looks.
(I am a fully embodied human)
I am not less than a standard.
(I am me)


So, don't tell me how hot I am.
Don't tell me how sexy my body is.
Don't tell me that I'm the princess.
Don't tell me that you're Prince Charming.
Don't tell me.

Because I'm not gonna be listening.



** Edited on 13 March 2014: picture and formatting added**

Overflow: When tears become words

I am raw and broken.
I am a boat tossed in the sea.
Waterlogged and splitting, falling
apart as fiber after fiber
comes undone.

I can't continue, not without losing
the essence of who I am.
What do I do?
Do I surrender to the process?
Do I let myself be unmade in the
hope of being remade in a more
complete and whole way?
What do I do when what I thought
was my purpose is
no longer my purpose?

We talk about our desire to be
real, authentic, intentional.
But what do we do when the realness
is too much, when the unpolished
and ugliness of real overwhelms our persons?

Real requires time spent with the
pain and unpleasant as well as the
joyous and thought-provoking.
Real see the dissonances within living.
But what do we do when Real gets
too real?

I want to pull the mask up.
I want to pull away from Real.
Because...
Real is hard.
Real is brokenness.
Real is raw.

remembering

One year ago today, the world stood in solidarity as we all experienced the horror that was the Sandy Hook Massacre.

One year ago, we struggled to find a way to express the pain and heartache that filled our hearts as the news came that twenty of the twenty-six people were kiddos.

How do we stand in the tension between horrific events such as Sandy Hook or Columbine or most recently Arapahoe High School in Centennial, CO? How do we express our heartache for tragedies that impact communities so much like our own? How do we move on from these events in a way that acknowledges what happened yet doesn't dwell in the past?

It seems like we have a tendency to sweep horrific events under the rug, to medicate them away with reality TV, sporting events, facebook, or food. We take to Twitter with posts of horror along with hashtags of solidarity. We take to Facebook with our posts about the tragedy and an analysis of why it occurred. And once we have taken our two seconds of social media silence, we are back to our posts about what food we're eating and giving our opinion about the current Twitter-argument between two celebrities. 

The thing is, tragedy doesn't end in two seconds. 

The horror doesn't dissipate in two seconds. 

It lives on in the lives of each person affected by the tragedy. It lives in the eyes and memories of each survivor. And it resurfaces each time there is another tragedy. 

Two seconds is not enough for me.

It reminds me of the Advent season that we are in. Advent is a time of waiting for the arrival of the Messiah, of sitting in the uncomfortable place of "not yet." It is about acknowledging that something or someone is missing and knowing that it is coming. 

And so, I acknowledge each person who is missing this day, who tragically lost their lives for an unknown reason. Because two seconds of silence is not enough.

In memory of the twenty-seven women and children of Sandy Hook, but most especially for the children whose faces and names will forever be in my heart.

Rachel, Lauren, Victoria, Dawn, Mary, Nancy,

Charlotte

Madeleine

James

Caroline

Daniel

Photos via CNN, collage made by blogger

Dylan

Grace

Jessica

Olivia

Catherine

Emilie

Avielle

Josephine

Chase

Jack

Benjamin

Ana

Jesse

Noah

Allison