<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533</id><updated>2011-08-01T17:33:12.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we are who we believe we are</title><subtitle type='html'>a collection of vulnerability and truth.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-5162241844312698247</id><published>2010-08-10T19:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T19:45:13.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>something to live for</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; "&gt;today i found out a boy committed suicide. i don't much at all about him, except that he had not yet graduated from high school. that there is enough, enough to know he had so much left. a young boy so desperate for an escape for an end to his pain to end it all. all because no one told him. he didn't know how special he was, he didn't know the world needed him. what it was he needed to hear or whatever he was looking for he never found it. that saddest part is how many people young and old are likely to end up this way. and everyone of them just as valuable. yet in the overwhelming brokenness of the world so many people are forgotten. and then this tragedy shakes us all and we swear to love more and reach out and open our hearts to the broken, and then it fades. i feel sad and i feel broken, i feel nothing compared to what he was feeling, and this feeling will pass but that boy that irreplaceable impossible to repeat miracle is gone forever. never having the opportunity to feel free from his pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-5162241844312698247?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5162241844312698247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/something-to-live-for_10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/5162241844312698247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/5162241844312698247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/something-to-live-for_10.html' title='something to live for'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-1234699960751455535</id><published>2010-08-10T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T19:44:09.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>simplicity...these are just my jumbled thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; "&gt;"...be transformed by the renewing of your mind"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today i read romans 12. it is amazing how packed it is. as i was reading i was thinking about how we try so hard to be a good person, we talk about being a woman or man of God. how someday we'll be the person we were meant to be. and then i read romans 12. it is written so clearly and so simply. yet we can't seem to get it right, we still hurt the ones we love, fall into the same patterns, and feel useless. if we just take the time to read the word God will so plainly reveal to us how to be happy, purpose-driven, loving, and how to continue to grow closer to God and closer to just a happy, complete person, and will begin to see what we are capable to do. i think we over complicate things sometimes, if we overcomplicate it we begin to feel like we have an excuse for the things we do and how we act. when it's complicated and so far off we justify how we are living now. and it's not even about the "bad stuff" it's about the deep intimate relationship with God that is so available if we just pursue him. if we just set aside or insecurities, our own motives, when we surrender our pain and brokenness to Him we can enter into the kind of life we can never get by ourselves. i think if we can grasp the simplicity of romans 12 and the nature of the gospel we will truly be transformed more and more like Jesus everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;romans 12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love sincerely&lt;br /&gt;hate what is evil&lt;br /&gt;cling to what is good&lt;br /&gt;be devoted to one another in brotherly love&lt;br /&gt;honor others above yourselves&lt;br /&gt;never be lacking in zeal but keep your spiritual fervor by serving the Lord&lt;br /&gt;be joyful in hope&lt;br /&gt;patient in affliction&lt;br /&gt;faithful in prayer&lt;br /&gt;practice hospitality&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do not be overcome by evil BUT overcome evil with good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;live at peace with others!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-1234699960751455535?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1234699960751455535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/simplicitythese-are-just-my-jumbled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1234699960751455535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1234699960751455535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/simplicitythese-are-just-my-jumbled.html' title='simplicity...these are just my jumbled thoughts'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-1227014259891088709</id><published>2009-07-22T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T22:16:51.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>frustration and disappointment</title><content type='html'>it's amazing, even people who were never meant to mean shit to you can end up letting you down. the people that didn't have that place inside you weasel and deceive there way in. and for some ridiculous reason you let your guard down. you look for the good in them. but that turns to shit. i'm to angry to write anything not mean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-1227014259891088709?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1227014259891088709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/07/frustration-and-disappointment.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1227014259891088709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1227014259891088709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/07/frustration-and-disappointment.html' title='frustration and disappointment'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-365124073419134785</id><published>2009-05-16T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T22:38:34.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.</title><content type='html'>i thought love was supposed to be forever. love is supposed to be transcendent and eternal. love is the one beautiful and pure thing in this world. LOVE NEVER FAILS. so why do we give up on it so easily. LOVE IS NOT SELF-SEEKING. so why do we think more about what we are getting from someone than what we bring to the people around us. LOVE DOES NOT TAKE INTO ACCOUNT A WRONG. so why do we old grudges against those we've loves the deepest. why is loving someone so difficult. i know we are created for extravagant love by a God who truly loves, a God who defines love, WHO IS LOVE. and why do we love so deeply those who we are not meant for. who can never love us. when does love begin, how.  why do love and pain co-exist within one heart so intensely. why do we feel and experience what we can never put into words.  why do we let ourselves fall away from people we love. why can't we work it out. where is trust, communication, vulnerability. where is 'til death do we part'. why has this world hardened itself to the power of love. i refuse to believe everything is just going to fail. God is bigger than that. i am not going to end up like that. my life is meant for something greater than that, because love is the motivating factor behind too much. LOVE IS WHY I AM HERE. in spite of what the world has shown be i believe in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-365124073419134785?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/365124073419134785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/bears-all-things-believes-all-things.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/365124073419134785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/365124073419134785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/bears-all-things-believes-all-things.html' title='bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-7503616754521515093</id><published>2009-05-16T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T22:14:58.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i thought you were my kindred spirit</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a kindred spirit is someone you can rely on right to the innermost part of your soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-7503616754521515093?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7503616754521515093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-thought-you-were-my-kindred-spirit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7503616754521515093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7503616754521515093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-thought-you-were-my-kindred-spirit.html' title='i thought you were my kindred spirit'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-7269909843308714945</id><published>2009-03-18T00:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T01:25:16.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>birthday</title><content type='html'>today was my birthday(3/17). i stayed up until 12:00 and officially celebrated my 21st birthday with my sister and some of my most favorite people. we sat in the hicks center where courtney and amanda entertained us with some impressive dance moves. as people walked by they were sure to be informed of the special day. one hour later i was in bed anticipating the day ahead of me. eight hours later i was awake, excited for the day. i've always loved birthdays and i believe everyone deserves a day all about them! why not? so i woke up and did my hair and put on my new dress that i quickly labeled my "birthday dress." i felt like a little girl excited to wear her new dress for the very first time. as i walked outside i observed the people around me--the preview students who had no idea who i was or why today held more significance than just st. patricks day, then there were those who knew me but also were not aware of the day, eventually came those who may have been informed by facebook and politely wished me a happy birthday. but the most important were those who eyes lit up as they hugged me and wished me happy birthday over and over. again and again friends were coming up to me and each time i felt so much love and joy. as we sat down i got a call from a friend--us girls were going out to dinner--top model status. immediately my mind ran wild. i couldn't wait to get ready, any excuse for lots of makeup and fun clothes. i questioned my friends over and over, none of them would tell me what was going on. still i was convinced we were going out. 6:30 came around and it was time to meet at the apartment. as we walked up the stairs to the apartment ideas ran through my head--what were my friends planning. maybe just maybe a suprise party? i've never had a suprise before. no, where going out to eat, just us girls. and i was so excited for that. the kitchen lights are off...that weird, oh well. i opened the door and there in front of me and following behind me were my most favorite people all shouting "suprise" and blowing bubbles. it was perfect. i've never felt so special. from the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;flowers &lt;/span&gt;to the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;r&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; cake to all the trouble of clearing out the apartment. and as the night went on it only got better as more of my friends showed up. they all knew. every time i talked about what we could do, they knew. with every update i gave them about the plans they knew.  i really and truly have the most amazing friends in the world. i couldn't ask for better people to share my life with. to invest in and grow with. to cry with complain to and rejoice with. friends to sit outside and paint with or lay around with watching movies all day. friends to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PREVENT &lt;/span&gt;with and change the world with. i can't imagine a life without such amazing relationship. i'd be nowhere without this part of my life. i've never met truer more genuine people. people i can easily and unashamedly say &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love me&lt;/span&gt; because if i didn't they would smack me. before i came to college i'd never known friendship so amazing. i'd never desired friendship like this. to be in a place of such safety and comfort. where i'm not afraid to admit how much i cry and how much it hurts. where i've learned to embrace who i am. most importantly where i can sing out "i will survive" even if i don't hit a single note. life has never been so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                        &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;God is good and he loves me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-7269909843308714945?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7269909843308714945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/birthday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7269909843308714945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7269909843308714945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/birthday.html' title='birthday'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-1020486969600036778</id><published>2009-03-16T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T00:00:47.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;reality confuses me. i'm not trying to be deep and obscure. but sometimes i convince myself things are not real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-1020486969600036778?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1020486969600036778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1020486969600036778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1020486969600036778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-7463811092019592029</id><published>2009-03-13T02:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T02:48:19.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm okay with not being okay</title><content type='html'>i've talked to my dad once since christmas (because i wanted to know how to marinate steak). and i haven't talked to my mom since i saw her over christmas break. i don't hug my brothers and sisters and every day i'm afraid they don't know how much i love them. i dont know how to explain how i feel and i get so overwhelmed with emotion i can't express with words that it all just turns into frustration and i make people i love feel like no one should feel.  i'm broken and it's the worst feeling in the world but i carelessly break others everday. i'm afraid to the let the intensity and depth of my feelings show and i'm afraid i'll never change. i avoid interacting with people to keep all i'm feeling at bay. but what am i afraid of? i finally get out of bed and God, as amazing as he is, shows me the beauty surrounding me. he shows me the amazing love and safety of the people he's placed in my life. he's surrounded me with people i can't help but love and open up to. in a matter of ten minutes once again my world is flipped upside down, with a flood of emotion and pain i can't erase. but those beautiful people never get sick of me. the big picture reveals it is God in them and through them. it also reveals when the lights go out and i'm back alone in my room my only comfort is in my saviour. my friends get my through the day and i rely on the Spirit of God to bring me through the night, in hope of joy in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-7463811092019592029?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7463811092019592029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-okay-with-not-being-okay.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7463811092019592029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7463811092019592029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-okay-with-not-being-okay.html' title='i&apos;m okay with not being okay'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-5280645627896335164</id><published>2009-03-13T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T02:20:10.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>inconsistency</title><content type='html'>how do you really know you are where you're supposed to be? with every decision i make there is doubt.  i never know where i am supposed to be or what i should be doing. inconsistency has consumed my life. i don't believe i know how to let go of my life, to give over control. in my attempt to control and balance my life i have caused myself more pain and heartache than i ever imagined--yet i still can't let go. with every reason to let go laid out before me i find myself holding on all the tighter. i don't even know what i'm holding on for. and then there are those days where i think i'm happy, whole, i did it--the sunshine, my friends, and my painting before me, life really is beautiful. and then in a matter of ten minutes my heart breaks, my stomach aching, every reason to smile is a million miles from me. life isn't beautiful anymore, it's so painful and i don't know where to look. i know there is only one place to turn, but i can't figure out how, how do i put my life in His hands. how do i fall in love with My Savior, how do i rest in Him. how do i let go of all my anger and hurt. how do i surrender my pride. how do i find peace. and how long does it take? how long until my pillow is dry before i drift off to sleep and the morning doesn't seem so hopeless. i find myself reading the psalms over and over, i find comfort in the desperate cries of the psalmist.  Tonight my friend told me if your going to blog you have to be honest and that takes vulnerability, he said don't write for anyone but yourself. Another friend was talking to me about the importance of self-care, and as cliche as it sounds it is so important.  i've spent to much of my life worry more about the problems of the people around me while convincing myself i was okay. i've put all my effort into trying to find my identity apart from myself, i've lost that--who am i. i'm left feeling empty and meaningless, i know in my heart it's not true but it sure as hell hurts like it's true. i'm left to  rebuild myself, i find hope in a brighter tomorrow, in joy and wholeness. and i can see beauty all around me and if i have to take the pain that shadows it, i know i can only be made stronger. i meant to write about how inconstistent i am. and in my inconsistency i trailed off. so another blog for another time. i have a pounding headache and a million thoughts. i need sleep. goodnight moon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-5280645627896335164?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5280645627896335164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/inconsistency.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/5280645627896335164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/5280645627896335164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/inconsistency.html' title='inconsistency'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-7366409074218359990</id><published>2009-03-12T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T13:34:52.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>heartache</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"i've come to realize that in the end, everyone turns out to be the person they swore they'd never become..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-7366409074218359990?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7366409074218359990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/heartache.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7366409074218359990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/7366409074218359990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/heartache.html' title='heartache'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4257180701559478533.post-1344673648699997398</id><published>2009-03-12T03:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T03:36:50.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>insomnia</title><content type='html'>inside my mind i could write for miles but nothing seems to come out on here. nothing seems right. the audience is never right&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4257180701559478533-1344673648699997398?l=bizzaaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1344673648699997398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/insomnia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1344673648699997398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4257180701559478533/posts/default/1344673648699997398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bizzaaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/insomnia.html' title='insomnia'/><author><name>elizabeth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14213750459793757035</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0zbAl5UMd1M/Sbjo8612weI/AAAAAAAAAPc/rhcC_xsR8HM/S220/IMG_3012.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
