Preparing my heart

Tomorrow, my best friend and I will travel down to the South OKC/Moore area to drop of supplies and to volunteer with the relief efforts.

This past week has been hard for my heart. It’s been hard watching the place that I called home for two years be turned in to piles of rubble and lives forever changed.
Knowing friends that have lost everything they have, hurts on such a deep level.

I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the images that I know I will encounter tomorrow.
It’s one thing to see it on tv or in pictures. Completely different to see it in person.

I’ve searched all week for the right words to say to people and the right way to handle everything.


God, I pray that you give me a servant’s heart. I pray that you allow me to be humbled and to not take the things that I have for granted. I pray that you give me the right words of comfort to those that have lost so much. I pray that you continue to shower them with your comfort for the days ahead. And that we as a state, and a nation, don’t soon forget what happened on May 20.


Much love to you all.


Sometimes the Road Gets Bumpy

If anyone has ever told you that recovery would be easy at any point, they were probably lying to you.
When you’re intentional about it, it can be the hardest thing imaginable.
And I’ve tried really hard to make this journey intentional, and I think that I have.
And let me tell you, it isn’t easy.

Day 90 has come and gone and so has most of the hoopla that came with it.
Now I sit here at day 97 and think to myself, “What’s next?”

Where do I go from here?
I have no clue.
I honestly didn’t expect to make it to 90.
After all, I originally started this journey last November and made it to 64 days before relapsing.
And with some of the things that took place in the last 90 days, I thought for sure I would break.

Sometimes I really question if recovery was meant for me.
And then I realize that it was.
That my Creator did not create me to harm myself and that every time I hurt myself, He hurt with me.
I was created for bigger things. For better things.

But even with that knowledge, the road still gets bumpy.
I still have to deal with ignorant people and their ignorant comments.

I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with being jokingly asked last night if I wanted a knife to slit my wrists when my basketball team wasn’t playing that well.
Self harm is no joke.
And things like that hurt when they come from people close to me.

I was almost tempted to look at him and say, “No, I don’t need a knife. A have a first aid kit in my bag that has about five or so razor blades if I need them.”
But. I didn’t.
Instead, I sat there and fought back the tears.

Speaking of that first aid kit, I figure it’s high time that I get rid of that thing.
It’s not helpful at all.
Knowing that I have it doesn’t make recovery easy at all.
If anything, it makes relapsing easy.
And I’ve worked entirely too hard to get where I’m at.

These are the realities of recovery.
And sometimes they suck.
But I know in the end, it will be worth it.

And it will be worth it because I’m worth it.