White Horse

Before I go on with the story of how I came to be a strange Mexican-Irish girl in a strange Houston, Texas town, I need to divulge something. And I'm certain that many of you, dear readers, have been expecting it. And it would be an insult to all of you, loving friends, who had to deal with me during my healing process. This is it. Here we go. And please, I beg of you: remember that I am human, and not perfect, as much as I joke around about being perfect. I am broken and fragile. And very stupid. Some of you may jump to harsh judgments, but I contest that everyone has done something stupid in their life at some point. Maybe it was unhealthy relationship, maybe it was getting a horrible Madonna-like perm in the 80's, or naming your children after snack foods. We all make mistakes. Read on.

At one foolish time, in my very foolish life, I considered myself to be in love. Wait. Scratch that. I was in love. And that is something that I need to learn not to be ashamed of. It doesn't matter with whom I was in love with. But what does matter is that he said he loved me too. I imagined and longed for a life with this guy, and sacrificed a lot of myself for him. I pretended to love things that he loved, speak the way that would make him take notice of me. Like that 1960's song suggested, “You've got to show him that you care just for him, do the things he likes to do, wear your hair just for him...” Well, I did. And in the process I lost myself and who I really am. I became obsessed with hearing his voice, and being near him. I craved his approval, and yearned for the satisfaction that he loved me, and only me. We spent Christmases, birthdays, family outings together; his mother even told me she considered me her daughter-in-law already. And I was so.... happy.

But it was a lie. It wasn't that he did all the lying (although for someone who supposedly “can't lie” he did a LOT of it). I lied too. To myself mostly. But also to him. I lied when I compromised myself and my morals to make him happy, or when I would try to be someone whom I wasn't, just so he could admire me a bit more. I believed that if I could convince him that I was exactly who he was looking for, that would be it. And it'd be completely worth it. Its funny how things don't work out. And sometimes its wonderful.

I convinced myself of his steady and constant affection and love for years. Yet he was not steady. He was anything but constant. He ran hot and cold on me more than the plumbing in my cheap apartment. And I started catching him in lies. And hearing about how he was paying a lot of attention to someone else. I ignored it (again, please, I know... stupid, stupid girl). The idea of him being with another girl was so terrifying to me that I swallowed my fear, acted like an ostrich (which tastes delicious, btw), and stuck my head in the sand. I confronted him a few times. Every time I did, somehow, inexplicably, I would end up thinking I was crazy. Or he would remind me that we weren't married. Whatever the case may be, I was stressed, depressed, repressed, regressed, and obsessed (which are all red flags and marks of spiritual warfare). I stopped caring about myself; mistreated my body, went on binges, and became an all-around unpleasant person to be around. I did this to myself. I take full responsibility for that. When I get to heaven someday and Jesus looks into the eyes of my soul, I'm going to have to look at Him and say, “Yes, that was me.” And my biggest fear is that He'll cry. Not just for me, but for the loved ones I mistreated and took advantage of while coping with being taken advantage of.

The pinnacle and “no-turning-back-now”moment came one evening at the beach. Have you ever had moments when your heart is aching so much you'd swear it was being squeezed by a vice-grip? Or that being swallowed by a whale or eaten by a shark would be bliss in comparison to the bleak and utter melancholy and black abyss that engulfed you? I have.

We were at the beach at a youth event, and he was in the water. I was playing my guitar, avoiding the company of the other stupid girl he'd been allegedly spending time with. I heard his phone ring, and being the A-type-proned-personality person that I am, I picked it up. The number was unfamiliar so I let it go to voicemail. And then I got a nagging feeling in the back of my skull. He'd been so protective of his phone for the past six-months. And I'd (again, ostrich) ignored it, owing it to the fact that he was a pretty private person. But I couldn't help it. He had a password protected phone, but he's about as creative with coming up with passwords as I am with drawing people (I do stick-figures). I cracked the code in ten seconds. And there, on his phone, were hundreds of pictures of her. Smiling, laughing, sleeping... SLEEPING?! Yup. And there they were in Time Square, cozied up together. The phrase “made me nauseous” would be so applicable if it weren't so cliched. But those pictures literally made me nauseous. And me, being the non-confrontational person that I am, cornered the jerk and threw his phone at him. Not really. I wish I had. But I pulled him aside, told him what I'd found, and tearfully asked, “Why?”

One thing I'll never forgive myself for is how weak I became and how much power I let him exert over me. Where did sparky and spunky Katie go? Who the hell was this person in her flip-flops? Get this girl a backbone!

Long story short, I ended it that night. That horrible, toxic.... thing. The mockery and joke of a relationship. It ended. I ended it with the help of two of my dear friends, who sat on the beach with me that night and let me cry until there was nothing left. At their urging and my mom's approval, I started counseling the next day (my pride would like to conceal that factoid about me, but I am convinced that everyone needs counseling at some point or other. It helped me a lot).

Its been a long haul, and God has done some amazing work in me. He took me, all banged up, bruised, and broken, and put me back together. I've got scarred tissue. Battle wounds. And I'm wiser for it. My honest-to-goodness (ride-or-die) friends were revealed in this process, as they never failed to be there for me. To everyone who helped me through this time, or prayed me through it, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

One year and one month after that horrible beach day, I slammed the trunk shut and drove up and out of the driveway of my mom and dad's house. We stopped for gas on 6^th Street, and then pulled onto the 15 freeway. I sang along to Taylor Swift's “White Horse” as I bid farewell to the place I'd known almost since birth. And my mom clapped and cheered for me as the song ended and we merged onto the 10 freeway, the freeway that would take me all the way to Houston.

I don't want any confusion about my ultimate reason for moving; God called me here. I have a job to do. It's my vocation. So let it be known by anyone doubting, or mistrusting my motive: I was not running away... I was moving on.

Looking back, I don't completely regret the series of unfortunate events that took place: they've shown me the grace of our Heavenly Father, and revealed to me just how deep His mercy is and how wonderful it is to be truly healed. I learned that people who I love can and will disappoint; but I have to love anyway. And that God can and will work a miracle in whatever crap-pile of a situation I find myself in. Thanks for reading... and thanks for being charitable with your thoughts. Whew.... that was.... well, I'm glad that's done.

White Horse – Taylor Swift

Say you're sorry, that face of an angel
comes out just when you need it to.
As I paced back and forth all this time,
because I honestly believed in you.
Holding on the days drag on, stupid girl,
I should've known, I should've known...

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
lead her up the stairwell,
this ain't Hollywood, this is a small town.
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down.
Now its too late for you and your white horse
to come around.

Baby I was naïve, got lost in your eyes
and never really had a chance.
My mistake, I didn't know how to be in love.
You had to fight to have the upper hand.
I had so many dreams about you and me;
happy endings. Now I know...

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale
I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,
lead her up the stairwell, this ain't Hollywood,
this is a small town.
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down.
Now its too late for you and your white horse
to come around.

And there you are on your knees, begging for forgiveness,
begging for me. Just like I always wanted. But I'm so sorry...

Because I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale,
I'm gonna find someone someday
who might actually treat me well.
This is a big world, that was a small town
there in my rear-view mirror disappearing now.
And it's too late for you and your white horse,
yeah it's too late for you and your white horse.
To stop me now. Try and stop me now.
It's too late to stop me now.