God knew exactly what He was doing when..

I think I feel my best when I'm doing something for someone else. Even if it's something as small as sending a "Hope you're having a good day" text message. I wish I could say I do it out of the pureness of my heart (which, yes, I do) but I can't say I don't get anything back from it. It brightens my day, to brighten someone else's. It fills a desire in my heart that I'm not sure I can completely describe. Unfortunately, this can also be very exhausting for me sometimes as I am over aware of the emotions of those around me and at times, it even feels like I start experiencing those emotions myself. I definitely have a "hyper-sensitive" personality. I've lived an... well, let's just say.. interesting.. life (as I'm sure most of you have read about in this blog) and I live in a society that doesn't always cater to my very sensitive nature & if I give it the ability, it can tear me down in a instance. I can take things too personally, over think a mediocre situation and turn it into a catastrophe, I cry during movies and listening to songs, I feel pain for people I've never even met that live miles, states and even countries away (so just imagine the amount of pain I feel for those I do know). I have to process through every action and thought that I have determining the reason for almost everything that happens to me or around me. I am impacted greatly by those around me, their words and their actions.

I wish I could say I handle this gracefully. But I don't. It can be overwhelming, to say the least. I struggle with it constantly, always having an internal battle. My emotions can completely deplete the energy out of me. They can be so tiring that I neglect my relationships with the people around me because I just don't have the stamina in me to keep giving all I have. Being someone who is so in-tune with emotions and relationships, for me, the normal low points feel like rock bottom and the normal high points feel like I'm in a place of pure tranquility.

I have to believe God chose this life for me. There is a reason he gave me a mother who was addicted to drugs. There is a reason I've lived through the trauma of my mother being shot, of being neglected, of being sexually abused. As much as I hate to say it, there is a reason God took my mother when I was only sixteen years old. God knew exactly what he was doing when he chose me to be my mother's daughter. He chose me to love a drug addict unconditionally. He chose to put people in my life who would hurt me to teach me resilience and forgiveness. He made me over sensitive to the pain and hurt in the world. He put the hole in my heart that could only be filled by loving others, helping others.. even those who are deemed undeserving by others. He's taught me that even though sometimes all we can see is the worst in a person that they shouldn't be judged, for there is a deep history, a story, behind every single person. And we all deserve salvation.

This is all extremely challenging for me, some days are great days and some days are terrible days. I am constantly learning how to live with my past experiences while continuing to try and create the kind of life I want to live. I get off track, I fall down but His footprints are always right beside me and my mother is always in my heart. So while sometimes I am emotional and sensitive... this what being a child who loves an addicted mother has shaped me to be. It's who God chose for me to be and each day, I try to be the best me I can be, emotions and all.

.Mind.Body.Soul.

People have lots of different reasons for working out. To be skinny, to be strong, to be sexy, to be healthy.. etc. etc. Why do I work out? I want to be strong and healthy and definitely sexy but there is an even deeper reason for me.

I've never been a skinny girl, always had curves. Never had a problem with that. But when I was 16, my life changed. My mom, my best friend, my rock died so unexpectedly. It would be the honest truth to say my life crashed into a downward spiral. I hit into a very deep depression. I didn't care about my life my as much. I wasn't as committed to my activities, to my school work, not even to my friends.. I definitely wasn't concerned about my health, mentally or physically. This was a really dark time for me. I isolated myself, shut down, spent countless nights crying myself to sleep. I couldn't find a way to cope with it. I even turned to self-mutulation and started cutting to release any amount of the pain I was feeling.

My last year and a half of high school was anything but pleasant. I was lucky though that my life did start to take a turn towards the positive once I began attending the University of Iowa. I still had countless nights crying myself to sleep but throughout my freshman year the depression seemed to lessen and my cutting came to a stop.

It was during this time I became aware of my weight. I was entirely oblivious to the weight I had gained over the last two years. College definitely made me very aware of it. I didn't realize just how much I had used eating and food as a comfort when I was depressed until I looked back. I have to admit starving myself did cross my mind. I did try it. But I would last about an hour and realize, I just couldn't resist food. I think I tried that about twenty times before I realized, my mental health just isn't in a place where anorexia is something I can fully allow myself to give into. And for that, I was blessed. It could have been so easy to develop an eating disorder at this time of my life.

I always talked about wanting to lose weight during college but didn't ever really put the effort in. I dated a guy all throughout so I guess I didn't really feel a need to lose weight. I felt confident despite it.

In my post college wisdom (haha) as I was thinking about my life one day, I realized, since my mom died.. I have regained so much of my mental and emotional health. I haven't cut in years, I open up just a little bit more when I feel I need to. Hell, I even started a blog entirely about how my mom's meth addiction, my past and her dying as affected my life. I've really taken control over myself.

Now, I want to get myself back to physical health. Before you go saying "But you're not fat, you're beautiful the way you are" I don't believe I am fat or unbeautiful. In fact, i do think I am beautiful and no, I don't think that makes me cocky or full of myself. My beauty is defined by much more than my physical appearance.

Know that I am doing this for ME. This is about my journey through life, my happiness, my health. And let's be honest, if I need to throw a punch out at someone, I want to be able to do it with some power behind it ;)

I want my body to be as strong as my mind.

memories on an incomplete canvas..

My mom's 7th anniversary of her death is coming in less than two months. That means in one more year, it'll have been 8 years since she died. I was sixteen when she was found dead. In one year, I'll have spent half as much time without her, as I did with her. Which means in nine short years, I'll have spent more time on this earth without my mom, than I did with her.

I know nine years probably seems far away. But for me, it's not. I don't want that day to come. That day where a majority of my life will have been spent with no mom there to guide me, no mother-daughter talks, no laughing at her stupid, silly, sometimes perverted (okay, usually perverted) humor. I'll have been a motherless daughter for far too long.

I am terrified that one day the memories I have of her will slip away, entirely. And she'll just become this blank image of a woman I once knew as my mother. I'll be able to see her silhouette but nothing more than that. I'm scared that one day, it'll stop hurting completely. I'll be able to fully 100% live with the fact that I am a motherless daughter. And I pray and pray that day never comes. The day it stops hurting, is the day I've stopped missing her. The day the grief is no longer there. And I'm afraid that if I stop grieving her, it'll mean I don't miss having her in my life. And I worry that day will come because one day, I will have outlived my mother. One day, I will have more memories on this earth without her, than I do with her.

I don't ever want to stop missing her or loving her or stop crying over her. I sit here trying to remember specific memories with her and I just always feel like I come up short. Like there aren't enough memories there. There wasn't enough time there. I didn't pay attention enough, observe her enough, almost like I didn't care enough.

And now I lay her without her, unable to do anything to change that. I can't make more memories. I can't ask her questions. I can't get to know her. My biggest fear is forgetting her. Right now, it feels like all my memories of her are on DVDs and I should be able to play them over and over and over. But I can't. They're all scratched and I can only get little clips here and there that show me who she was to me, what she meant to me, what kind of person she was, what we did when we spent our time together. But it doesn't paint a whole picture. There's so much that feels like it's missing. Painted in black. Scratched out. And I can never recover any of it. It's all lost, somewhere. And I can never add to it. It's an unfinished canvas of a mother-daughter relationship, and forever, it'll remain incomplete.

I've tried to learn this. I try to observe more, pay more attention, so that one day, when other people I care for die, I'll have these specific concrete memories I can draw from.

Like my dad.. I go to his house every week for dinner. He might think it's because I don't want to cook for myself. Or because I don't want to spend money on groceries. But it's because it's a memory I want to have of him. To think back to all the weekly dinners we had. I'll be able to say that he made dinner for us, always letting me get my plate first. We'd sit down and watch the 5:30 news on Channel 13. After would be NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, followed by the 6:00 news then Wheel of Fortunate after. Sometimes we'd talk about the news topics, other times we wouldn't say much. But I always finished my dinner before he got even half of his ate. We always tried to guess the Wheel of Fortune puzzles, he is usually better than me. I always love when he bitched about work. He is such a calm, laid back person that I love when he actual states an opinion about something or talks about changing things to make himself happy. He always seemed to be so focused on my happiness that it's a nice change to see him thinking about himself. And every night I leave, I'd thank him for the dinner and he would say "I'll send ya bill. Drive safe, the deer are out!" And I would be on my way.

Losing my mom and feeling like there aren't enough memories there to get me through the rest of my years without her, has made building memories and paying attention that much more important. I'm going to lose my dad someday. I'm going to lose one of my best friends someday. Depending on how long I live, I could end up losing a lot of people I care about.

At 23 years old, there may not be many things I am aware of. But one thing I do know I am aware of, is I have one regret in my entire life. And that was not cherishing the moments I had with my mom nearly enough. So I continue to challenge myself to cherish all my moments. I make it a conscious decision to pay attention to the details about my life, about my loved ones.

Like my friend Cassie.. I've always known how much she loves to laugh and how easy it is to make her laugh with her quirky sense of humor but now it's one of the things I appreciate the most about her and it's something I'll always be able to remember. Like laying in bed for one of our many sleepovers and she would lay there and read the silliest (and sometimes really lame) jokes but she would let all of her laughter out, not holding back an ounce of it. And I love that about her. I actually even envy that quality she has.

I strive to appreciate my job and every single one of my clients. And when I'm with them, I try to stop thinking about everything else going on in my life and focus on them. Because even though I am there to help them, they are teaching me things everyday, helping me to become a better social worker. I am not there with them just for a paycheck. I am there because our lives brought us together and for some reason I ended up as there worker. And I need to be alive, in that moment with them.

I need to be alive and presence in all my moments. It is easy to disappear when someone is talking about something we don't really care about or when our facebook notifications are blowing up or a cute boy is texting us. It's easy to forget about the moment just to try and capture a picture or tweet about it. It's easy to be listening to your friend talking to you about her life and for some reason your mind starts wandering off to all the things you have left to do today.

But I don't want to get lost and disappear anymore. I don't want to miss anymore memories. I don't want to have any regrets.

Celebrating My Mother's 45th Birthday

I'm 22 years old. My mother would have been 45 years old, tomorrow. It's been over six years since I've seen my mother, since I've talked to my mother, since I've felt her arms around me. I can't remember her voice. I can't hear her laugh anymore. Did she laugh obnoxiously loud or was she the silent laugh with her hands kind? I have no idea if her eyes were completely brown or if they had a hint of green like mine do.  Was she just as bad of a singer as me? I couldn't tell ya.

Tomorrow's her birthday, I want to celebrate her but how am I supposed to do that when I can't remember anything about her? Why didn't I pay more attention to these things when she was alive? Why didn't I celebrate her then? I can't even tell you if I got her a gift for her last birthday. I have no idea if I saw her. I have no idea if I even wished her a happy birthday. But now that she isn't here with me, every year, there's a count down starting about a week or two before her birthday. Every year I plan exactly what I'm going to do - eat Reese's Cups and drink Mountain Dew because how much she loved them is something I do remember.

I don't know what kind of person can forget so much about someone who would call just about everyday to tell me she's so proud of me and how much she loves me. I know my brother and I were her world, we were her everything. And even though she was my world too, she was my rock, my strength, my supporter, my everything, I don't think I ever really took the time to let her know, to let her know just how much she means to me. That even though she made so many mistakes, her mistakes led me to my passion to help people who were dealt shitty cards in life. That if it weren't for her believing in me, I never would have believed in myself. From such a young age, she started a fire in my heart, a fire that burns with passion and with empathy to see every person's self worth, no matter their path in life.

When I was younger, about 10 years old, I remember telling my friends I love every person in the world and my friends would say "Even murderers? and people who rape other people?" and I would so innocently reply, "Yes." and my friends thought I was seriously messed up in the head. But it's because of my mother I felt such an innocent love for these people. I would tell my friends "Every person deserves love." And I remember this so clearly because my friends response was so opposite of what I was feeling and I couldn't explain it to them even though I so badly wanted to. My mom taught me that every person makes mistakes and the people we love so dearly may hurt us because of their mistakes but their mistakes say nothing about how much that person loves us and cares for us. And in my mind as a 10 year old, that meant to me, that just because someone harms others that doesn't mean that person should not be loved. My mom model this for me, showed me it really is possible to love those that harm us because despite those that had caused harm to her, including the man who shot her, she continued to love them and show them grace.

Everyday I work with parents who make mistakes that in turn affect their children and many people wonder "How could someone who loves their children so much do that to them?!" and I work with children everyday who are living in environments that don't have all the resources to allow them to succeed and reach their full potential. But I believe the reason why I can work with these family in such an optimistic way is because of the fire my mom ignited inside of me to see strength's in even the weakest people, in the families where you could easily justify giving up on them. Some  may call me naive but I call myself a true believer.

Imagine if people gave up on my mom, imagine if people gave up on me and my brother, but they didn't. And while my mother did ultimately lose her battle, she was able to be a large part of my life for 16 years. My brother is an Airman and I'm a social worker. There is light in even the darkest of places. You just have to be willing to search for it and once you've found it, don't stop until it's shining brighter than the black of the darkness.

I think where this post has lead me, without even me realizing it, is I may not remember the tiny details about my mom like her voice, her laugh but there's something that is just as important about her that I do remember. I remember the lessons she taught me. And the amount of love she was constantly pouring over me. I'll never forget the way she made me feel. Even in her darkest times, her laugh and smile would remind me that everything is okay, that she is okay, that I'm going to be okay. Her heart was so full of love and she was so good to the core that her voice and essence would always make me feel so safe. She would remind me to laugh at every situation because life's too short to be taken seriously.

Everyone makes mistakes, some big, some small, some that hurt those around you. But your mistakes don't define who you are. My mother is not defined by her meth addiction. My mother is defined by the amount of love she gave to those around her, by her strength to keep her own light inside of her shining, by the life lessons she taught to those around her, including her children, without even recognizing she was doing it, her selfless-ness, her goofy, up beat personality that reminded me life is still good no matter the amount of shit that's been dumped on you.

And most importantly, I believe my mother is defined by her children. And this is because, I feel my life, my choices, my career path show that my mother's life lessons are carried on through me. Because even though I don't remember what her singing sounds like, the fire she started in my heart, continues to burn and continues to grow.

So tomorrow when I celebrate my mother's birthday, I'll be enjoying a Reece's cup, a mountain dew but everyday I hope to celebrate her by spreading the amount of love she spread to me and those around her. That love is something that I will never forget.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

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I have always had a dream, to run away, to a new place far enough away that the "Wauters" reputation can't follow me or find me. Pack up my belongings, drive till the land turns blue, settle down and begin a new Wauters family tradition. Go to a place where when I'm asked who my mother is and my answer is "Denise Wauters" they won't automatically know that I come from that family and there isn't the reaction of "wait.. you're Denise's daughter? and you're doing this well for yourself?"

Don't get me wrong, I am not ashamed of my past. This dream of eloping isn't because I want to deny who I am and where I came from. I have my mother to thank for shaping me and molding me into the person I am today, I could never deny her. My dream isn't about running away from my past as much as it is about creating my own identify for myself. 

In some ways, I know I have already done this by achieving goals I have laid out for myself. But I can't shake my past. I don't know how to fit it into who I am today. 

For instance, I was transporting a client I work with to a doctor's appointment and during the drive we were talking and somehow we figured out that she knew my mother. She used to party with my mother and knew me when I was a little girl. And one thing she said during this conversation was "Wow, no one ever thought you would do anything." When I was in high school and college a comment like this would make me really proud.. I would think "That's right, I am not a statistic, I beat the odds." But now, I wish when people did find out about the past I overcame that my achievements wouldn't be about the fact that I overcame adversities. 

And I wish I could understand why I don't want it to be about my past anymore, but I absolutely don't. I wish I knew what I did want it to be about but I have no idea.

I mean.. for people who didn't have to overcome the adversities I did and they make the same achievements I did.. what do people say to them?

I am just so sick of hearing that I wasn't expected to do anything. Because really, it honestly hurts my feelings so much to know that at the age of 5, at the age of 8, at the age of 10 and whatever other age, I was already being casted as someone who wouldn't achieve anything. How can people make that judgement about someone who is so young and whose life hasn't even started yet?

Am I proud of the things I have accomplished? Without a doubt, 100%. Do I know my past has shaped me and lead me to my passions? Yes, there is no denying that. But I want to figure out a way to not have my past be so strongly embedded into me.

I don't know how to share my passions with people I have relationships with without sharing my past. Whenever I have a new relationship, I have a constant battle on knowing when and how or if I even should share my past because I know it's such a large part of who I am and without understanding my past, I don't feel like people can truly understand me. It makes things extremely complicated for me, like I'm going through a maze and I have no idea if sharing my past be the right turn to build the relationship or if it will lead me to a road block. My past isn't something I can tell just anyone but at the same time I have such a strong urge to tell people because I feel it's the only way they'll truly know who I am.

I hope for a day when someone can know me, really know me, without needing to know my past. But at this point in my life, if I am beginning a relationship with someone, I feel as though until they know of my past, they can't know me.

And it breaks my heart to know I am defined by my past. I want to be able to start fresh and just be me. Not the girl who overcame adversities. I hope my path of self discovery can lead me to that one day. And that each day I continue to take steps to create myself, to find out who I am so that one day, I can feel like even if someone doesn't know my past, it doesn't mean they don't understand me.

I really question myself on if that's really possible. All the reasons why I do what I do, why I have the passions and morals I do, why I love and receive love the way I do, is because of my past. I don't have the power to change my past or the way it has impacted me. And I know everyone's past has shaped them, it's not just me who is shaped by their past. But I have this really strong urge to want to have a separate identity from my past but I want it to still be an identify that is true to myself. I don't want to pretend to be somebody I am not.

This is something I am struggling with so much. This isn't my first post about my past being my identity and wanting to get away from it. I honestly wish I knew what to do here because I am stuck and I feel like I am banging my head on a wall because like I said, I can't change my past or it's affects on me. But my biggest desire right here, right now, is just feeling like someone can know me and more importantly, understand me, without knowing about my past. I wonder why that is something I want so badly. 

Newtown, Connecticut: May God Heal the Broken Hearted and Bind Up Their Wounds

Newtown, Connecticut  Most of us never even know this town excited. After yesterday, it's a solemn place no one can stop thinking about, praying about and sending their love to. My heart has been heavy ever since I heard it on the radio yesterday that at least a dozen elementary students were shot and killed (later to find out 20 children were killed). Everything about this event is unimaginably tragic and it hits so close to home with every parent, teacher, school administrator, friend and family member because this could have happened in any town, at any school.. to your child, your baby sister/brother, your friend.. I can't even begin to list the amount of ways this weighs on my heart, as well as the rest of America.

No one can tell you why this happened. And everyone has their own thoughts and opinions on what needs to be done to prevent these tragedies, that as Americans, we know all too well, from happening.  One piece of this that breaks my heart is the fact that shootings are all too common. We've seen them in schools, places of worships, malls, movie theaters  on the street corners and I've even seen one happen in my own home. This is where the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School starts to hit so close to me home for me.

I was only six years old when my mother was shot in our farm house right outside our small little town in the middle of Iowa while I was curled up in a box, under a table in the basement trying to hide with my cousins and my brother. I know what I lost that day. I was very fortunate that I did not lose my mother but I lost my simple idea that our world is safe. And that monsters only live in our closets and under our beds but are easily scared away by having our mommies and daddies check for them.

I weep for the children who did lose their lives that day as well as for the children who now have first hand experience that world is not all good, that there are people out there who want to hurt others and who are capable of hurting others. This is a fact of life children should not have to learn at such a young age.

I have many fears about the affect this event will have on our country as well as the families directly involved and affected by the shooting, but one fear that I have is that the children who were traumatized that day, more than a lot of people ever will be in their life, won't get the help they need and will never feel safe again.

After my mom was shot, I haven't ever felt completely safe since that day. I'm 22 years old and I still have to sleep with a night light on as well as sound on but I can't have the sound from my TV be too high because then I won't be able to hear if someone is in my house. I can't walk by windows at night because I'm terrified someone is lurking outside waiting for me to walk by so they can shoot me through the window. Anytime I see someone start to show even a little aggression when they are drinking (my mom's shooter was an alcoholic as well as a drug addict), I immediately think they are really going to try and hurt someone. I feel that way anytime I see a fist raise or even a voice begin to yell because I know a fight that starts off as a normal fight, can end in tragedy. The man who shot my mom, I loved him a lot. He was my father-figure during the time my mom was in a relationship with him and he provided for me, hugged me, made me laugh and told me he loved me. I now live with the fear that someone I love dearly and who loves me, can hurt me really badly if ever pushed to that point.

I can't say exactly how the child survivors will be affected, because each person responds differently. Some children will be horribly affected for a little while but will be able to work through it, some children may be affected their whole lives. And then there will be children all in between there. But in one capacity or another, every single child will be affected. Many may never feel safe in a school again. If they were hiding in the bathroom with their classmates and teacher, every time they walk into a bathroom, it may remind them of this tragic day.

Knowing what I have gone through because I lived through my mom's finance coming to our farm house and shooting my mom then killing himself when I was there, it absolutely breaks my heart that these children have to live through a similar, unfathomable, tragic, horrendous, life changing event and will forever be affected.

Their innocence and belief that the world is a safe, happy place and you live until your 100 years old is gone. And can never be restored. That is what truly what is weighing my heart so far down. I pray that every child and every person traumatized by this gets the help, support and love they need to come out on the better side of this.

RIP To All The Children Who Received Their Wings Way Too Soon and To All The Adults Whose Lives Ended Before It Was Time <3

To every single person who has been affected, remember "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

The Outsider, The Exception

The more I start to learn about my family and other people I know who have grown up similar to have.. I'm starting to feel like I'm the exception rather than the rule.

Growing up with a single, drug addicted mother and in and out of foster homes.. yet I've never tried any drugs other than alcohol and I've graduated college. Everyone else I know who had the same or similar up bringing to me, have at least tried drugs once, sold drugs, are addicted to drugs and didn't go to a four year school.

I'm not bringing this up to brag. I'm bringing this because why is that I have to be an exception? Why can't I be the rule? What happens to these children to make them turn to drugs to get through life? What happens to them that they lose sight of college or making any long term goals? Where was it that they slipped through the cracks? And why didn't it happen to me?

I've learned a lot the past few weeks about my family. Information I never would think to be true. And it's nearly impossible for me to wrap my mind around. They know drugs are bad. In multiple ways, yet they're still involved with them somehow. Or even tried them. 

Lately, I've been around drugs a lot more than I can remember since I've become detached from a lot of mom's family. And I've been experiencing the weirdest.. what's the word.. cravings? curiosity? about drugs.. ya know.. what's it like to get high? to do some molly? what's it like to trip on mushrooms? I bet I'd like it or so I hear. 

I've been trying to process these thoughts because these are thoughts I've never endured before in my life. When I think about it.. almost every other person I know who had drugs so embedded in their childhood, never got out of that lifestyle. They lived with parents who did drugs up until they were 18. They were in consistent contact with other family members who abused drugs. The friends they had were drug users. The lifestyle of drugs was constantly surrounding them.

What makes me different than the other people I know is I got out of that lifestyle when I was 8 years old, when I went to live with my dad. My dad didn't use drugs. We went to "normal" family reunions that were filled with love and laughter. Drugs were no longer in my everyday life. Was I still affected by them? Absolutely. My mother was still a meth addict. But I wasn't with her everyday being dragged through that lifestyle. I was living in a completely drug free environment.

So maybe, the more you are around it, the more "normal" and "acceptable" it becomes and when kids of drug addicts say "It's all I've ever known" they really mean that. When mad, sad, upset or even happy.. the way you deal with it is through doing drugs. The way you make your money is through selling drugs. The way you make friends is by getting high together. So, why wouldn't that child grow up not having the idea that drugs are bad? Do pretty much all kids of drug addicts experience trauma and are affected negatively by drugs while growing up? Yes, it's unavoidable. But.. it's still just... normal.

If I didn't move in with my dad when I was 8, I really have no clue where I'd be right now. As much as I loved my mother and all the times I cried because I wanted to live with her, it really was a blessing that I was lucky enough to experience a new life. While being raised around drugs has made me into the person I am today, being able to live, grow and shape in a drug-clean environment allowed me to prosper. 

And I know I'm not the only exception out there.. And I'm not saying all people who do pot or other drugs are bad or unsuccessful.. I just can't help but wonder why I am so different than the other people I know. I'm not better than them. I'm not smarter than them. I'm not anything more than them. I'm different.. and I'm the outsider.

I hope that with my career choice, I can make a difference. Make a difference so that the exception becomes the rule.