Heartstrings.

              {one year ago}

They had grown close. He had undeniable charm and her smile took it all in. A 5 month friendship that grew to something a little more. They were complete opposites. He drank on the weekends and she went to church every Sunday. Somehow they interchangeably became an important part of each others' lives. A drunk kid on the phone with the girl he liked for 4 hours turned into sober heart to heart conversations. Soon enough he took her very first kiss on his couch. This fascination with each others' minds and lives and the advice they gave each other. They thought it was love. It was risky and passionate. She thought sneaking away to see him would make it more fun instead of creating boundaries.

She's screaming. Her mom won't stop telling her to stay away from him. He's not good news. His reputation is bad and he doesn't care about you. She's crying. Trying to explain how she feels without contradicting her words. Her heart is throbbing in her chest, almost as much as her throat is from screaming. Trying to deny that he was toxic for her. But inside she knew him and his past. He just kept drawing her back in.

His name popped up on her phone. 

"Are we okay? I feel like I messed up."

"What do you mean you messed up?"

"It was just one night when I was upset. I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you."

"Whatever. I thought you were different now."

Heartbroken. Her mom was always right. She couldn't deny it any longer. The passion, happiness, what they thought was love...was not. Tears stained her pillow night after night until she realized it wasn't worth it. She wrote him letters that never got sent. Her mind raced with memories and her heartstrings ached. How was she going to move past this. Someone she thought made her feel so special, so alive. She moved on and kept going. Life didn't stop and month after month went by with an emptiness still inside her. Eventually, strength and independence coursed through her. She would know what happiness felt like again. It wasn't because of a person or a moment...it was because she was living her life and doing things for herself. But she couldn't help but think it was because of the heartstrings he pulled, that actually made her realize how strong she could actually be.

Happiness.

Recently, I've been encountered with the question "Are you happy?". And to be honest, this year was a growing year for me in my strength, maturity, and faith. Nine months ago, the beginning of my senior year, I didn't feel happy. I was stressed, disappointed, lost. Everyone else around me had their lives and plans put together and smiles on their faces.

It felt like I was getting over difficulties in my life and I had no one to turn to. But I kept a smile on my face and went through the motions. I prayed to God to "just make me happy". I quickly learned that He couldn't just "fix" my problems. It takes positive changes and efforts to gain what you want to achieve.

If something makes you unhappy, you have to know what needs to change. Sometimes it takes weeks and sometimes months. Happiness is something everyone wants. If something makes you radiate joy and the people in your life are witnesses, then keep it. Other peoples' opinions often shouldn't matter but when they're people that love and influence you, listen to them.

I'm so thankful for a Savior that loves me unconditionally and is there when it feels like no one else is. He lifts me out of the trenches and back onto the right path. Today, I can honestly answer that question with a positive "yes!".

Do what makes you happy.
xoxo,
~Michlyn

High School Graduate {2015}

So I did it.

I graduated from high school.

13 years of school. check.

Got my diploma. Threw my cap into the air. Heard my name announced as "the class of 2015". goosebumps.

It's all surreal. You never think you'll make it. It seems so far away. And soon enough it comes and goes.

So extremely thankful for getting to this amazing point in my life. I have so much that I will look back on and remember. The good times and bad times. Everything I've learned spiritually, academically, and emotionally are all apart of who I am today. I have so many incredible people in my life that have helped me mature and grow into the person I am today.

In just 3 short months, I will move unto a college campus and begin my journey as a UNW Eagle! There, I will pursue my dream of becoming a teacher. If someone was to ask if I'm excited or nervous? ALL OF THE ABOVE.

nervous.anxious.excited.thrilled,determined.scared.everything.

Congrats to us class of 2015! We did it!

xoxo,

~Michlyn

Graduation Count: 15 Days

In just 15 short days I'll walk across the stage at my high school, shake my principal's hand, grab by diploma, and accomplish one of the biggest goals that every average teenager has. But this accomplishment will be more than just a piece of paper, (that they actually mail to you and the fake one is inside the folder at graduation...but sshhh you didn't hear it from me) it will be everything I did to earn that diploma and I couldn't be more excited.

Because school is hard. Whether you're a natural at math equations or went by the saying "C's get degrees" throughout your years, you still did the work to get that piece of paper with your name in cursive on it and a couple of official signatures. We all just do what we're supposed to do (or don't) and go through the motions and make friends and learn things and soon enough we're the ones accepting our own achievement. Your parents talk about it, you've gone to grad parties & open houses growing up, you saw a couple upper classmen that became your role models and best friends accept it, and now it's you.

Honestly, it's just one of those things where I'm extremely proud of how far I've come. I'm also incredibly grateful for all of the mentoring I've gotten through the years, the opportunities I've gotten to experience, and the people I've gotten to meet.

It's coming fast people and the class of 2015 is one thing I'll get to be apart of forever. Just 15 days....

xoxo,
~Michlyn

Prom 2015 {Senior Year}

On May 2nd, 2015 I went to my senior prom! My last high school dance ever...

I'm so thankful that I got to go with my best friend as my date and all of my favorite people got to spend the night together dancing, laughing, and making so many memories. We enjoyed every single part of the day/night and made it as fun as could be.

My sister, Erin, and I got our hair done at 10:00am and then finished our makeup and made it home in time to get in our dresses and put on our jewelry before my date showed up and it was time to go.

One part that does get sort of exhausting are all of the pictures that we take before we actually head to prom. Thankfully everyone was pretty patient and we had some very nice photographers & parents ready to capture the moments.

Pictures went from about 2-4:30pm with all of the driving to different locations and meeting up with different friends. Finally, at 5:00pm we all jumped in our super awesome cars (just kidding - nothing too extravagant) and headed to the river boat where our prom would be held from 6-11pm.

I had an absolute blast with some of my best friends! Time passed way too fast on prom night but we all enjoyed ourselves. Afterwards we all followed each other back to our friends' house and ate more food and eventually crashed on the couch before the guys left.

Senior year has been full of so many incredible opportunities and sweet memories that I will never forget. I'm so looking forward to graduating with my amazing senior class in just 18 days, and then enjoying the summer before we all go our separate ways. Here's to the best prom I could of imagined!

xoxo,

~Michlyn

endless grace.

You guys! I have some exciting news!

My incredibly beautiful (inside and out) friend Brooklyn just began blogging again. She tends to make people smile, take incredible pictures, laugh continuously, be wise beyond her years, and give all the glory to our incredible God.

Go check out her blog endless grace and leave a comment telling her how awesome she is and check out her photography!

I thank Jesus that he gives me the opportunity to write, meet new people through blogging, and then calling them some of the sweetest friends I know. This blogging world is such a fun and blessed environment.

xoxo,
~Michlyn

The Story About My Mom

In my literature class this semester, we're reading this book called "Riding Shotgun" :Women Write About Their Mothers: I highly recommend it. It's raw and beautiful and realistic and full of old black and white photographs of incredible women. The stories are real and you can picture every single thing vividly in your head. So I decided to write my own story about my mom...
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My mother was born to a 17 yr old who's boyfriend was enlisted in the U.S. Navy. She was the first born to my young grandparents, Bonnie and Melvin, who had little to nothing figured out. By the time my grandmother was 19, she was married, graduated from high school, had a job, and was a mother to 2 children. Melvin eventually wasn't in the navy anymore and worked full time as a garage door installer. He would tell you every place he installed a garage door or what kind of garage door you had installed in your home. My grandparents grew up on the ghetto side of the city and raised my mother there for a couple years. By the time her brother was born, they had moved three times and eventually bought a house in the country. My grandmother was the middle child of 10 children and my grandfather the first son of 4 children. Together they raised 4 kids before Bonnie was 25 years old and they both worked full time. My mother, 2 brothers, and her little sister. Bookend girls who were 7 years apart and became best friends. 

My mother grew up to become the second mom to her 3 younger siblings and traded rooms between sharing with her brothers to sharing with her sister. There was only one major school district in their area, so kids from the nearest 5 towns all went to the same elementary, middle, and high school. My mother's mom used a gas stove and burnt everything she cooked. She grew up with the words "suck it up and eat what I made you" and "you didn't cook so you can't complain". Throughout the years, the sacrifices her parents made were difficult and having her mom gone even after she was home from school was hard. Because a woman in the workforce was a privilege and one my mother's family of 6 needed to maintain stable.

When my mother was 16 yrs old she met a boy who was a junior in high school and played for the hockey team. He was dating the snottiest girl in school, and when he walked by my mother in the hall, he winked at her behind his girlfriend's back. After that girlfriend broke up with the boy, he took my mother's best friend out on a date, changed his mind, and started dating my mother. One breakup before prom, graduating high school together, and dating for 6 years later...My mother married her high school sweetheart at the age of 23. For a couple of years they went on adventures, honeymooned in Florida, drank beer up at the cabin with their friends, and built a house on 5 acres. Five days before my mother turned 26, she gave birth to me on the snowiest day of the year. My parents brought me home in a blizzard and started a whole new life experience together. My mother was meant for motherhood. It was her calling, her destiny to raise a family with her loving husband at her side. My parents gave me a sister when I was 18 months old and we were best friends ever since. I remember my mother doing the dishes, and teaching us how to sing our ABC's. I remember her makeup-less face when I had a nightmare and woke up in her bed. I remember her getting the privilege to stay at home and raise me. I remember going to church every Sunday and her talking on the phone for hours at a time. 

My mom had birthed 5 children before she was 35, 4 down on earth and 1 baby girl up above. When I was thirteen we adopted a little girl from Africa and that meant 5 kids, a husband, a house, and a dog that my mom handled with pure grace. This was her job. Motherhood was her job. Girl scouts, snotty noses, dying flowers in vases, messy rooms, greasy hair. Spring break trips to the zoo, school musicals, sleepless nights, a sick husband, dirty dishes. That was her job. She didn't get paid but she sure did one hell of a job.

I remember staying with friends for 9 days because my mother was in Africa with my dad, and crying because I had never been gone from her that long in my entire life. I remember my mother always getting up and getting ready in her blue robe. I remember her pretending she was good at singing while she mopped the kitchen. I remember the toys she helped me pick up after playing with them all day. That was her job. My mother was "the mom". The mom everybody knew. Everybody looked up to. Who raised beautiful children. Who kept her life busy and messy but it was perfect. The one who taught morals and kept the neighbors kids in line to protect her own kids. She was the glue that kept everything together because her husband had chronic headaches his whole life. Together they lost their house and moved three times in 4 years. Together they lost a couple dogs, but just bought another one. Together they lived their life. Not lives, life. My mother was so intentional about everything she did. She was the mother and wife that made everything make sense and if other people did it differently, it didn't make sense. My mother was a role model. For my grandmother, for my aunts who were much too crazy, for her little sister, for her peers and her children. She was "the mom". Because motherhood was her job.

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xoxo,
~Michlyn