Body Positivity and Borderline Ovarian Cancer

          On November 18th, 2014, after a year of dealing with pain and benign cysts popping up all over my body, I had a twenty pound precancerous ovarian cyst removed and began the process of taking five different tests, seeing an oncologist, seeing an ENT (since I had large benign cysts in both eyes and tonsils), and seeing a gynecologist every three months under a new diagnosis of "Borderline Ovarian Cancer". My body has never been more exhausted or more unable to rest. My veins now refuse to give blood without a baby butterfly needle, tons of water, and more pressure than I care to think about. My body is so sick of being probed and tested. My mouth is tired of taking a minimum of six pills each day. I still don't know how to best function in the liminal space of waiting for cysts to become precancerous so they can be removed, waiting for another one to turn so I can have surgery to prevent it continuing. Most days, I am just thankful it is not worse and that we are waiting for something that may never get worse. Other days, I am too exhausted to get the memo that I should be thankful. Some beautiful things came out of the dust of my old life--I begin each day with more passion than I did before, I lean into self-care instead of putting myself last, I stay in the moment instead of focusing too much on what may come, I care more about surrounding myself with happiness than surrounding myself with labels, and I love those around me in ways I never knew I was capable of.

          The adjustment I did not expect, however, has been to my new body. I have been the same size since 8th grade, and despite how much the world decided to let me know that my body was not good enough, by my freshman year of college, I learned to love every single inch of me. I loved my face, my nose, my chubby waist, and my curvy, soft skin. I dedicated myself to helping other women and men learn to love their bodies as they are and not as society has told them they should be or they want them to be one day. By the fall of 2013, I fully embraced myself. I loved treating my body well. I appreciated that even with exercise and a healthy diet, my pre-existing conditions created this size 16/18 body.
          Then the twenty pound cyst happened. I spent months being convinced by doctors that the weight gain was my fault before they finally found the cyst. After it was removed, smaller cysts kept returning, I was diagnosed with PCOS, and my body refused to let go of weight surrounding my reproductive organs. The more cysts appeared, and the more I became obsessed with getting back in my old body, the more difficult it became to be body positive. I didn't know how to love this body; hell, it took me 23 years to learn how to fully love my old body. People loving all of me, and accepting my body before I knew how to, is what helped me begin to process the new me.
          As another cyst takes over my right ovary and I wait to see if it needs to be removed or if it will go away with medications, I am prepping myself for what I feel about my body that is twenty pounds bigger once again. It is still a daily struggle to not compare my new body to the way it was before; it is a daily struggle to not want my old "self" back (because no matter how hard we try, women cannot fully escape the narrative that their body is who they are). This is the shitty thing they don't tell you about chronic diseases that grow inside of you--even when you are dealing with treatments and testings and family and living in this new reality, one of the hardest parts can simply be learning how to love the you that comes out on the other side.
          Sometimes our ability to fully love ourselves and our bodies falls short. We don't get the job we wanted. We cannot complete our degree in the timeframe we wanted. We lose the body measurements that we loved and made us feel like we belonged. Sometimes we are left picking up the pieces of broken understandings about who we are and who we could have been. But we can all hope for One Day. One Day where we wake up, and we suddenly realize that we have remembered how to love ourselves again, how to live our lives again, and how to dream about who we can be again. One Day may not be tomorrow, but with each new morning, we are all a step closer.

#KellyOnMyMind: A Letter to Governor Deal

           As we enter into the few hours leading up to Kelly's execution set for 7PM tonight, there doesn't seem to be much of a case for hope. Yet hope is still alive. Hope is the only thing more powerful than fear. Hope sheds light on even the most dim of situations. But hope cannot come without fire--a fire begging, pleading, for us to do something, to say something. Consider how you will spend these next few hours. What can you do for the life of Kelly and those touched by Kelly? What can you bring to the table? Words are powerful. They have the ability to change us, to awaken understanding, and to shape the world. While in times of grief our words seem to be the most disjointed and least eloquent, those words matter. Even when we know our human words will never be enough, a piece of the divine can be found. Consider how you can use your words, whether you have five of them left or five hundred, to add your voice in solidarity with Kelly and her family. Write a letter to Governor Deal and submit it via  http://gov.georgia.gov/webform/contact-governor-domestic-form. Follow #KellyOnMyMind. Attend a vigil across Georgia today (McAfee will be hosting one at 7PM outside the front entrance for those interested.) Pray. Pray for a world that better understands the difference between vengeance and justice. Pray for mercy to overpower our human tendency of hatred and misunderstanding. Pray for reconciliation in a broken system. Listen to Kelly's words. Provide your own words. Be an advocate of the change we desperately seek.

Governor Deal,
           I know you've heard the pleas of thousands today for the life of Kelly Gissandaner. By now, you may feel exhausted and helpless, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. That is how many of us feel as well. We don't know if this is all in vain. We don't know if anything will be overturned. We don't know if our prayers will be answered. But we have hope. We have hope because Kelly's life does much more good than harm. We have hope because Kelly's words have brought each of us healing in times of tragedy. We have hope because we recognize no action, no matter how unjust it may seem, warrants taking away a sacred, human life.
          I'm not asking you to arbitrarily overturn the decision--I know you can't do that, and even if you had that power, I wouldn't want you to. Instead, I ask that you look at the case, and really look at it. Ask your board to open it back up. Use your voice as an advocate for Kelly. Perhaps appoint a woman or two to the board, maybe a few individuals that are just as against the death penalty as many on the board currently are for it. Take a step back and think about what it would be like for the state to decide whether or not you were worth living based on the worst decision you've ever made without taking into account all of the beautiful ways you have impacted lives around you since then. Know that you are not alone in this, even when it may feel that way. While it may cost you a few powerful constituents if you ask the board to halt the execution and reopen the case, it will gain you the support of many more of us who have started to give up on the idea of the state system as something that can be just and good for humanity.  
          Our voices matter, and so does yours. It's hard for me to think a man so passionate about rehabilitation can be a supporter of the death penalty, especially in a case where rehabilitation has clearly taken place by all accounts. It is a broken system, made ever more clear by the fact that the person who actually murdered Kelly's husband received a life sentence and not a death sentence. Do not let the inability to financially access a strong lawyer, or a few wrong choices on behalf of legal counsel, end Kelly's life. Her family asks for clemency, her fellow prisoners ask for clemency, her teachers and ministers ask for clemency, and now those of us who represent our congregations, seminaries, and ministry positions ask for clemency, urging you and the board to truly live out your Christian faith. Show Kelly, Georgia, and the world what it means to grant mercy. Help us see what can be done when we are advocates of change.
          Be a beacon of hope for a woman who has given hope to the world around her. Be a conduit of grace for a family who has already lost a father and is desperately pleading to hold onto their mother. Be an icon of love in a broken world, restoring Kelly to her prison community, giving her the ability to continue sharing her story, her life, and her joy with those who feel hopeless. Live out what it means to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly.
         With Love in Christ,
         Tara Brooks

The Beauty of "What If?"

                I realized something: I LOVE “What If?” “What If?” keeps me going. “What If?”  keeps me day dreaming. “What If?” keeps me coming back to who I am and what I need. Sometimes I learn more from not taking a chance than taking it, moving on, and forgetting I ever paused to think, “What If?”
                I've learned more from not acting than I ever thought possible-- not because I decided to let fear take over, but because I made the choice to be okay with not knowing the right decision before walking in the other direction. Life is confusing and multi-faceted; we can waste away waiting to have all the answers. “What If?” helps me understand what is important, not to society, but to me. Perhaps the answer isn’t always going for it and living without a sense of regret. That can get messy, and even a bit reckless. Our first instinct is not always the best. Our emotions tend to cloud our sense of truth and understanding.
                Maybe instead we should get better at noticing the “What If?” moments and reflecting on them. Sometimes, the answer may be to go for it. Other times, the answer may be in the beauty of the “What If?” that will stay with us the rest of our lives, better preparing us for the next time those two words become our reality.
                With each “What If?” we choose our own path. We take control of our lives. We use our free will to the fullest. Some may view it as running away or letting fear win. I view it as having the courage to walk away, even when the “What If?” blurs the clarity of our destination. Maybe, just maybe, “What If” is the fuel that keeps us going.

The Reality of Rape Culture as a 20-Something Woman

            Everyone has stories that create who they are and what they believe, for better or for worse. Although events leading to suffering differ, the core of suffering, the feeling of being alone, is the same. We are all looking for community, for comfort, and for warmth. Moments that cause suffering can become moments where we find what we need. As a Christian family, we can be a beacon of hope in a world of suffering, spreading out into the streets and inviting all to the banquet of love and acceptance.     
            In situations of rape, we can just as easily be a beacon of shame, casting shadows and making the survivor feel unwanted and unloved instead of offering guidance and a hand to hold. In a society so focused on sexuality, it is easy for us to try to qualify what makes something a crime against humanity. Innocent until proven guilty leaves the victim on the line, waiting to see if the Good Samaritan is real or just a story we tell inside the safe, white walls of a church building. The Urban Gospel Mission, a website for young Christian adults, posted an article last year on sexuality and culture. Instead of focusing on what Christians can do to influence culture positively, the focus was on women’s clothing choices. It ended with the words, “I hope by reading this article there will be someone who will consider this message and rethink of how their choice of attire is representing themselves and their view of God. Women, real beauty is found in Christ. And wearing modest attire is not only for the benefit and protection of yourself, but also to help the men around you from stumbling.” Even within an article that on the surface has nothing to do with sexual assault, the stage is set.
            We feel sorry for her if she wore jeans and was raped, but not if she wore a short dress. If she wore a short dress, she made him stumble and he could not control it. We view rape as a member of a jury, deciding when we should or should not walk alongside the victim. Instead of seeing the survivor as our sister, as a piece of the beautiful puzzle of humanity, we see her as a weak link that pulls us down.We cannot keep creating a culture of unsafe space. We cannot keep watching young girls try to figure it out on their own because we do not want to help them afterwards. We cannot keep refusing to talk about rape and sexual assault or pretend it’s not there. We have to face reality: one in six women. One in six. Not doing anything about women suffering creates a silence so piercing that it rings out across the nation, begging for the day we create a space of safety and comfort for those that need us the most. Our job is to be. Be there for one another. Be there for humanity. Be there for all we share life with. The true meaning of life together takes place when we see suffering, heartbreak, and pain through the lens of connection and understanding instead of separation and disengagement.

It's 3pm

         At 3pm, I will be done with this final. At 3pm, I can begin writing for fun, reading countless books, rambling with friends, and organizing my bows. At 3pm, anything is possible. 3pm. But what happens if I waste my month of no assignments and no deadlines? Is it even possible to waste time? What if my Chefville, nap, and Wii Fit addictions take the place of everything I want to do in the next thirty days? That's when I realized I am afraid of 3pm.          
        Since January, I have had a clear goal: Go to class, Go to work, Prepare for class, Prepare for work, Sleep when there is time, Socialize when there is time, Complain about not sleeping when there is no time, Complain about not socializing when there is no time. Simple. But now there will be an abyss where a schedule used to lie. What if I don't use it well? I have not written in this blog since Christmas break. What if that doesn't change? I haven't finished a book all the way through for fun in months. What if I've forgotten how to stay engaged to the end? Let's be honest-- I've never had a clean room. What if I can't break the habit? 
        I'm finished with my last final, but I am still waiting for 3pm. There's something about a deadline that is hard for me to break. I want to have time to plan for 3pm. I want to have time to decide what is next. But maybe that's not the point. Maybe we aren't supposed to plan life. I guess maybe Lennon was right when he said "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." Yet somehow that's less comforting. Did he mean we have no say? Do plans mean nothing? Or maybe the point of plans is to help us feel a part of our journey. Maybe plans are there to get us where we need to be when we need to be there. Maybe life is what happens when we are busy over thinking the future. Alas, my alarm just sounded. It must be 3pm.

Are We Listening? Our Hearts Are Speaking

Every once in a while, you find a truth so deep, so intense, that it's no longer possible to ignore it.
          While on Skype earlier, I updated my status. When I pressed send, that sentence was there for the world to see. At first, I was not even sure where it came from-- maybe it was all of the caffeine I had today. Or maybe it was the heat of the election after last night's debate. Either way, I typed it and pressed send without much thought. I almost immediately had a response from a girl I knew in high school. As we talked, she told me how much my words meant to her and the closure she received from them. The more we chatted back and forth, the more words flew from me. I hope it works out, love. And by works out, I mean what needs to happen is what actually happens, even if it's not the happiest answer  quickly turned into Regardless of your decision, you will be able to come to a point of happiness. I completely believe that. It's all a matter of which path you choose to get there. But sometimes, the best way to get there is to leave others behind. Just as I pressed send, it clicked. Am I really conceited enough to believe those words were given to me only so I could share them with her? Am I that blind? Each letter I typed had to come from a part of me; that's the only way it could sound so raw.
          This afternoon, I went to lunch with one of my favorite women. As we talked about her boy troubles, she asked me for advice. I was as blunt as possible, not leaving any stone unturned to the truth behind her hesitations. As my words of honesty sank in for her, they also did for me. Wisdom like this has to come from somewhere, even if we don't want to see the source. It's easier for us to ignore where the advice we give to other people comes from. The second we realize it's also about us, we want to run away. It's easier to recognize why others are having issues than to see the why written on our own hearts. It's time for us to listen up. Our hearts are trying to speak to us. If people in similar situations come to us for advice regularly, chances are, there is a reason that we know what to say. We either have been there or we are there. Based on the human condition, I'm going to make the staggering claim that we are there.           We have to stop pretending our advice only applies to other people. It is so much simpler for me to tell someone that I haven't seen in years to make a change than to tell myself that, although I know myself much more than I know her. There's something about our own reality that freaks us out. The only way to step into a better future is to face our present. Does that mean I'm going to handle all of my problems tonight before I go to bed? Probably not. Do I expect you to deal with everything jumbled in your life as soon as you wake up? Absolutely not. Every destination needs a good journey. Realizing that sometimes we need to take our own advice is a starting point that we can all tackle together.

What Emory Did for Me

          With the news released today of discrepancies within Emory's reporting of data for college rankings, I felt like I needed to blog about the single most important academic institution that has ever been a part of my life: Emory University.Yes, Emory pushed me academically in ways that I never dreamed. By the end of four years, I perfected the 25 page paper, knew how to do any form of research, and could write an exegetical paper in my sleep. More importantly, I learned how to question myself. I began to ask questions instead of assuming. I became confident enough academically to put my best work forward. All of this is because of the wonderfully challenging professors that pushed me to become an academic scholar. However, that is not the best part about Emory and not the reason for this post.         

          Instead, I want to write about what Emory did for me. When I was in high school, I didn't know who I was-- I couldn't find my passion, I couldn't find what I did well, I couldn't find where I belonged. By going to Oxford College and then continuing to Emory's Atlanta campus, I found myself. I found mentors, professors, and students that truly cared about me. I immediately found activities and classes I was passionate about, and I will be forever thankful that Emory gave me the opportunity to explore myself, to figure out my interests, and to move forward on my own path while still being connected to one unified community. 

          I came into Emory not having many high school friends to keep in touch with. I left Emory with hundreds of friends that I know I will keep for a lifetime. I came into Emory unsure of what made me happy. I left Emory getting a Presidential Service Award and Distinguished Service Key from Alpha Phi Omega, Emory's service fraternity that helped me grow in more ways than I can count. I came into Emory an International Studies major because that's what was expected of me. I left Emory an English major heading to Theology school because professors helped me realize that's what I am called to do. But most importantly, I came into Emory not knowing how to lead with integrity, how to be myself, or how to be an example of ethical living. I left Emory knowing that I will never forget how to lead with integrity, how to be myself, or how to be an example of ethical living. 

          Regardless of what happens over the next few months or even years, my Emory University degree is my most prized possession. It's not because it will get me a great job or because it got me into graduate school. Instead, it's what my degree stands for. My degree from Emory stands for my new beginning-- my second chance at finding where I belong. I am a world citizen, a helping hand, an understanding heart, and an ethical leader because of Emory University. That is worth more than all the top rankings in the world.