Life Lesson #6: Work hard & Play hard

{the final part of a 6-part series of lessons I've learned throughout my life's journey}

Most of my posts thus far have been things I've learned in my childhood or recent past. This last segment is actually about something I've learned very recently.

This lesson came in part because of my relationship with Al; in part because of the recent developments in my education and career; and also in part because of the natural course of growing up and realizing just what's really important in life.

As I've said before, I have always been driven and career-focused. I have always taken pride in my education and worked hard to be as successful as possible. By putting that much energy into school and work, three main things happened.

1. I succeeded.

I graduated magna cum laude with my BS degree in Political Science and Business Law. I was the president of the political science honor society for almost two years, the VP of the pre-law society, and I participated in many other amazing educational opportunities during my 4 years of Undergrad.

These successes opened a lot of doors and set me on the path to law school. I was also able to make a lot of connections along the way with classmates, professors, and professionals in various pertinent fields. This was exactly what I needed to be on the path to a successful career.

2. I burned out.

I worked 40 hours/week while taking 18 credits and being involved in the many activities mentioned above. This meant about 4 hours of sleep each night and usually a handful of all-nighters each month. I would hop-up on coffee and No-Doz and once I could finally crash, I would. After 4 years of non-stop, all-go-no-quit, I was busted.

I definitely don't look back on my college years as having missed out, but I do know that it caused me to take life a little too seriously. I didn't allow myself to have as much fun and I was often crabby, sour or dense to others' sense of humor. I'm sure my friends would attest to the fact that I wasn't the most enjoyable, I had trouble just relaxing and taking a good joke.

3. I re-prioritized.

I've realized recently that the goals I have for my educational and professional life don't have to come at the expense of my personal life. A lot of this has been influenced by Al (and my step-dad) who works really, really hard but also has a fantastic sense of humor and knows when to put the work away and have a good time. Al has always encouraged me to "loosen the heck up" and I hope he'd say that I have.

Even more then that, I've re-prioritized what really matters to me. I still really want to have a successful career, but at the same time, I want to have a family. I want to travel and enjoy my life. I want to come home at the end of the day and be perfectly willing to turn off the laptop, sit on the deck and drink a glass of wine with my husband.

I think about it like the Kenny Chesney song - "Woman With You."

"I've been gopherin', chaufferin', company chairman
Coffee maker, copy repairman
Anymore there ain't nothin' I swear man
That I don't do
I been jugglin', strugglin', closin' big deals
Dancin' backwards in high heels
Just when it feels like I can't make it through
She said, it sure is nice to just be the woman with you"

I've grown up quite a bit in the last two years. I didn't think I had a lot of major growing up to do. I was/am pretty self-aware and knew just who I was. But I still had a lot of fine-tuning to do and I think that I will for the rest of my life. I don't ever want to settle for who I am now, but rather work at being a better version of myself every day.

As a part of that motto, I've tried to emphasize a balance in my life. I am working on not getting so caught up in a grade or a work meeting. I will still work hard, really hard, at having a successful career but I want the rest of my life to be equally successful.

I'm reminded of another song (this happens a lot!) by Lee Brice - "Love like Crazy."

"Be a best friend, tell the truth, and overuse I Love You
Go to work, do your best, don't outsmart your common sense
Never let your prayin knees get lazy
And love like crazy"

And this is really how I want my life to be going forward. Love, family, laughter, hard-work and a full, complete, happy, healthy life!

Life Lesson #5: The best things happen when you stop and let them

{part 5 of a 6-part series on lessons I've learned throughout my life's journey}

As many of you know, my relationship with Al was many years in the making romantically. We started as co-workers and friends and often went many months without contact. In fact, I've always said that our relationship happened to me. And here's my story of how the best things happen when you stop and let them.

3 years after meeting and becoming friends with Al, we were speaking sporadically. An email here and a phone call there, often with months in between. He was across the world in Korea, where he'd been since boot camp and AIT. I was in Newport, RI in Navy OCS (actually, I was in out-processing and getting ready to go home, but I spent a month working as a civillian while my paperwork was processed to send me home.)

I was busy moving 400 chairs from storage into the gymnasium for the next graduation ceremony when my cell phone rang. I put down the chairs I was carrying and fumbled for my phone only to hear a distant "hello" on the other end.

Me: "Hi. Who is this?"

Voice: "Guess..."

Me: "Umm...I don't exactly have time to play games. Who is this?"

Voice: "I'll give you a hint - we used to work together."

Me: "Yeah, like I said, I don't have time."

Voice: "You don't," *crackle, crackle* "this is?"

As the phone cut in and out I struggled to hear anything that could give me a clue as to who I was talking to.

Me: "I'm sorry, I can't hear you and I'm not in a place to keep trying to figure it out. Good-bye." And I hung up.

I went back to work, thinking about who it could be. I started running through all the options of people whose number I didn't have or who might call from an unknown number. Not once did I suspect Al. In fact, I suspected it to be the guy from this story, who had since joined the Guard and would every once in a while make his presence known in my life just to keep twisting the knife.

It wasn't until about a month later, when I was back in Minnesota, that I determined it was in fact Al calling from Korea. I felt bad that I had hung up, but I couldn't do anything about it. I apologized a few weeks later when we spoke for a few minutes on web cam. That was June.

It was after that when we started talking more regularly. At this point, Al was at Ft. Bliss and settling in there. I started applying to law school and working at a law firm. Christmas came and Al was able to make it home to see family for the holiday. We talked a couple times, but didn't get to see each other until New Years Eve. We went to dinner and then to one of my friends' house for a party with the intention of drinking and spending the night.

I can honestly say that I still wasn't sure if I was interested in anything romantic. I was enjoying our time together, but was NOT looking for any relationship in any way. I was attending law school the following year and wanted to focus on that. A relationship would be a distraction; a distraction I didn't want.

That night was one of those nights where nothing really goes right, but you just have a blast anyway. Turned out my good friend never showed up. That left me with a group of acquaintances who I knew through her. The only choice now was to start drinking and making friends. After a few hours, Al and I were plenty juiced and started playing Blackjack. Actually, Al was playing and I was learning which gave him a huge advantage. So, being intoxicated and overly-confident, we bet on the next hand. The wager: a kiss.

I would like to lie to myself and say that I just became so skilled in Blackjack that I outplayed him; but that would be wrong. In fact, I'm pretty sure he let me win. Either way, a kiss came out of the deal. It was the first time we'd kissed since years earlier. We kissed again as the ball dropped at midnight. It's all a blur to me, mostly because of the alcohol. What I do remember is feeling attracted to him more so then ever before.

I think it was the way he handled the rest of the night that really stood out. As we were told where we'd be sleeping, we realized it was a twin bed. The owner of the house was already sleeping, so we grabbed what we could for bedding; we ended up with one pillow, a fitted sheet and a small blanket and figured we'd snuggle for the rest of the warmth.

It was a complete disaster. We realized after about an hour that the window was open, which is why the room was so cold. Keep in mind, this is the middle of the winter on January 1st. (As a point of reference, the week of Jan 12th was the coldest of the year at -22 degrees.)

We looked around the room for more blankets, coats, or anything that could serve as a insulator to no avail. At this point we were actually shaking from the cold and were unable to warm up no matter what we tried. The hours passed and we finally got to the grey glow of morning with very little sleep and definite hangovers.

Looking back on it, I think I would have been twice as miserable if I had been with anyone else. At the time, leaving in the morning was the best feeling ever. We went our separate ways, and although we wanted to, we didn't make any specific plans to see each other again.

So I was surprised (and more excited then I thought I'd be) when he called me on the 3rd (the day before he was driving back to El Paso) to meet up with him and his family at a nearby indoor water park for swimming and cards.

I left a very intoxicated Al with his family in the hotel and headed home for the evening. He started his drive back to EP the next morning and I got back into my routine. I don't know that I thought anything of the separation. I don't recall if I was worried I would miss him or not. I knew I enjoyed the time we had spent, but I had chalked it all up to a good time and moved on.

We continued to talk regularly on webcam and the phone. We started talking for hours each day and when I started my law school tours I decided to head down to visit him in Texas and check out UT Austin's law school. We planned the trip for February, ironically over Valentine's weekend. Needless to say, we never made it to Austin. Instead, we spent a fantastic weekend together, enjoying each other's company. We hiked the mountains along the border of Mexico and I met a bunch of his Army buddies. We spent an anti-V-day (complete with movies, puzzles and Toscani pastas from Pizza Hut) night in a hotel just enjoying each other. Then it came time to leave...

I realized over the course of the last 6 months (and probably 4 years prior) I had really fallen for him. I didn't know it and I certainly never expected it, but I found myself faced with the decision to walk away from a great guy in order to avoid the trouble of the distraction or follow that small nagging in my heart that said it could turn into something great. We left it with no decision made. We knew we both liked each other but really, really didn't want to be in a long-distance relationship.

Back in Minnesota, I started my normal week. I actually had a date on Wednesday (which was planned before I left for TX) with a guy I'd seen a couple times before. He was cute and funny, but had a lot of baggage (a kid and some other family issues). And frankly, I spent the entire date thinking about Al. I ended the night really early, told the guy I was interested in someone else, and decided I needed to at least TRY something with Al. I called him the next morning.

Turns out, he was thinking the same thing and was glad I had changed my mind.

We've been together ever since.

I never, ever expected to be in this relationship and I certainly didn't expect it at this time in my life. I didn't want to have anything on my plate other then my education and my career. I expected to make that my number one focus until I was happily settled into a nice life for myself. Then, I'd start looking for someone to share that life with. Instead, in my efforts to focus on me and my education, I fell into an amazing relationship with an incredible man.

In retrospect, I think Al was ready to be in a relationship months before. In fact I think he even wanted to date back in the day when we first met. He always tells me how he remembers what I wore on our first date, what I ordered at the restaurant (and that I made fun of him for ordering a salad at a steak house), and many other memories from our first few years together that I just don't recall. I think he was romantically interested long before I was and bless his heart for keeping hope that maybe we'd eventually be together.

And I recall something one of my mentors growing up told me:

"If you want your dreams to come true, you have to be willing to let them go first."

As soon as I stopped worrying about having a man in my future and put my efforts into improving myself, I stumbled upon the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

{Al, I love you. I know this process probably took me longer then you wanted it to, but I appreciate your continued love, support and patience. I can't wait to have you home and start the next step of our life together. I never expected my dreams to come true so soon, but they really, really have.}

Life Lesson #4: Divorce is a 4-letter word

{part 4 of a 6-part series on the lessons I've learned throughout my life's journey}

{Note: Mom - I suggest you wait until you are in the comfort of your home to read this so you're not crying at work! I love you so much!}

Divorce is so common these days. Most people know someone who's going through a divorce or knows someone who knows someone. You get the picture.

Obviously, this is about me.

Let me clarify though. I've never been divorced (or married or even engaged for that matter.) This is instead about my experience with my parents divorce, both of their second marriages, and my mom's third.

{Some of this story is from when I was too young to really remember so I have pieced it together with stories my family has told me and things my sister and I have pulled together over time.}

When I was a kid, my mom sat me down and told me that her and dad had news to tell me.

"Yeah, you're getting a divorce," was my reply.

My dad climbed under the chair, embarrassed, and my mom gave me a blank stare.

I was 7 and I knew. They weren't happy anymore. I can't say I knew what divorce was, or had any idea what was in store for me, but I knew that mom and dad weren't happy. And I'd heard the word divorce associated with that.

My dad moved back in with grandma and grandpa and mom became a full-time single mom/career-woman/homemaker/etc... The first few years post-divorce were especially rough. Dad had met someone who was (let me say this as nicely as possible) - - a terrible person. She had three kids who basically terrorized my sister and me. (He did wise-up and leave her in her messy, evil-dust and moved into a small apartment in the city.)

Then we'd go home to mom's house, where she was engaged to a guy who was an angry, mean person (and as I would later find out, an alcoholic.) I spent much of this time doing everything I could to protect my sister. She really got the worst of it and I wanted to keep her safe. Unfortunately, I was young and there wasn't much I could do.

This was especially clear one morning when we were all getting ready at mom's house. My sister was taking her sweet time - she was 4 and still had trouble with buttons and shoes and things like that. Well, apparently she was taking just a bit too long for his (mom's fiance's) liking. Just as I came around the corner, I see him pick her up and slap her, bare-ass, as hard as he could. It wasn't a "get your butt in gear" spank. It was a violent, angry smack.

Mom had enough. You don't touch her babies.

My mother called my aunt that night and moved out while he was at work.

Around 10, dad remarried.

My step-mom is a nice enough lady, but we've had our issues. My sister had never really cared for her and there have been many respect and religion (see my previous lessons) issues that have created some negative energy in our relationship.

On the other hand, dad is happy and I got three more wonderful siblings out of the deal.

About a year later, mom remarried too.

He was a good man who worked hard and help give us a nice life. We moved into the suburbs and got some stability in our lives. He was good to mom and he and Ginger were especially connected. And life was good. Until it wasn't anymore. It wasn't so much any particular problem as it was a complete breakdown in the relationship. They both worked hard to hang on to the life they'd built together, but had to walk away when it was no longer healthy for either of them.

By the age of 13, I lived in 11 different houses and attended 7 different schools. But after the second divorce, I graduated high school and mom made sure Ginger stayed in the district with her friends. The three of us moved into an apartment together and I worked for a year before going to college. About the time I left, was when S (mom's husband) entered the scene.

Actually, he'd been in her life since before her second husband. She'd known him for many, many years and they were good friends. He was living in Arizona, so they didn't pursue any relationship until it was more practical for them to do so. Mom's transition into single life again (and not having two kids to worry about) helped with that. They spent the first year or so of their relationship long-distance (sound familiar?)

He took a job in Minnesota, and 6 months later they were engaged. He actually asked our permission before he proposed to mom. He knew how close the three of us were - hell, we'd been "us" for so many years. It's scary for a man to break into that close-knit relationship. So, he sat down and asked if he could marry our mother?

We said yes and he proposed. She also said yes. They bought a house and had a small backyard wedding with just family. And they have proven the old adage that the 3rd time really is a charm.

I learned three major things from these experiences:

Divorce doesn't have to scar your kids for life.

My mother always did an amazing job of keeping us centered and realistic. We never doubted we were loved. My parents never pitted us against the other and there was never a disrespect between them. They were civil and parented together, despite all the differences. She never let us feel responsible and she always responded to our mental/emotional/physical needs. She put us first every step of the way, no matter what she was going through.

Marriage is work.

I've had many people ask if the fact that my mom's been married 3 times has tarnished my view of marriage. I can whole-heartedly say "hell no!" My mother taught me that marriages take work. It's not about attraction and butterflies and warm-fuzzies. It's about working and developing the relationship into something that can last long-term. My mom's first two marriages were both 10 years. She didn't try something and walk away; she gave both of them everything she had. And even more importantly, she made sure she was taking care of her kids and herself rather then staying in a marriage that was clearly unhappy or unhealthy.

Family comes in many forms.

I have an amazing family, who has always provided stability despite the instability of my childhood. I have been blessed with wonderful people in my life, even though some of them didn't stay. I have an excellent relationship with my mother and my sister, who have been constants through the whole thing. And the best yet, is that my step-dad stepped up and took on two teenagers (which he did like a champ despite all the craziness that ensued) when he married my mother and has been one of the largest blessings of my life!

He never once questioned it. He never looked back. And he considers us his own.

If that isn't family, nothing is.

In my life, divorce = love.

Life Lesson #3: Love Myself First

{part 3 of a 6-part series of lessons I've learned throughout my life's journey.}

{So this entry was later then I expected. I started writing it and it went a much different direction then I wanted it to go - so I scrapped it and took a different turn.}

Along with my spiritual journey, I did a lot of discovery and personality building. Mostly though, I had to come to terms with my body (like most teenagers do). Physically, as a kid, I was built like a boy. I was tall, lanky and flat as a board. I had the bumps and scars to go along with it, since I played hard like the boys too. I had a long, thin face and weighed less then 80 lbs.

I was a gymnast and had the body for it (which is basically none other than muscle.) But the time I was 15, I was about 95 lbs., 5 ft. tall and could bench my body weight. I also had long, stick-straight, hair down to my butt. I went through the typical teenage angst over my body and hated Jr. High. I was a book worm and a total nerd, which is never really "cool."

Then came the summer before high school. I first got one boob. Yes, just one. I remember being so excited and running into my room to show my mom and grandma. Then, over the course of 3 months I grew 7 inches, gained 20 lbs. and developed C-cup boobs. I finally got my period (at 15 - way late!) and felt like a real woman for the first time in my life.

(I have since grown a few more inches and a few more pounds and my boobs are a (much-too large) 36D.)

I was stoked to enter high-school with this new body. To be noticed. To be pursued.

I went shopping for new clothes for school, thinking that would help even more.

Turns out, high school was pretty cool anyway. I met a lot of great people, many whom I'm still friends with today. I had a lot of great experiences and really enjoyed the education (did I mentioned I was a total nerd!?) And when all was said and done, it had nothing to do with my body or my physical appearance.

This was the first experience I had with loving myself.

The whole virginity/HPV thing happened and my views changed again.

Then I met my first serious boyfriend, who we'll call N. N and I met at work (see a trend, ladies?!) and I thought he was a nice guy. We were friends for a few months when we started dating. And for 4 months it was simply amazing.

He was a gentleman. He was sweet and funny as hell. He worked hard.

But, he was a gamer. For those of you who don't know, that means he plays RPGs (role-playing games) on the computer. Specifically, he played World of Warcraft (WOW).

He lost direction and started playing WOW for hours and hours each day. There was a incident where I was wanting to get rowdy and I decided to distract him from his game by getting undressed. I did and told him that he "could take me now."

His response: "In a minute, I'm in the middle of a raid."

(I refuse to get into the details of the game, such as what a "raid" is - - partially because I hate that game and also because I'm embarrassed to admit that I even know the details.)

A minute passed, 20 minutes passed and I went to bed.

This became a normal thing. I wanted his attention and he wanted to play his game.

I can't say that didn't take it's toll. I started smoking (there were MANY, many other stressors that lent a hand to that, too.) Then, we broke up. Actually, he broke up with me.

It was the day after I took the LSAT.

I had been stressed and studying all week, but by Friday I put the books away and wanted to go out and do something relaxing and fun before the test on Saturday. Instead, he wanted to play his game and I got pissed. He broke up with me Sunday, in the middle of a party we were hosting AT HIS PLACE. He was dropping out of school and felt like he was stretching himself too thin, so the girlfriend was the next to go. I was devastated.

4 months later, we got back together. He was definitely different and things were much better. At first. I started involving myself more in school and advancing in my job. I started expanding my horizons with travel and education and I poured myself into everything I could. And I left him behind. When we would discuss our future, it was always weird and uncomfortable. He didn't want kids; I definitely did. He was a small-town guy who was OK with his current life and didn't see that changing. I wanted more, SO MUCH more.

We tried for another year to force our goals into something that would work for each other. I wanted him to follow me. I wanted him to want different goals and to understand my goals. I wanted him to change his mind about kids. I tried to make him into something he wasn't. As a result, the relationship exploded.

We fought for about two months straight. We fought about everything. We started going through the motions. We were both so unhappy. But we hung on to the hope that we could get through it. Until we couldn't anymore. The break up was extremely hard. The break-up was emotional and painful, but respectful.

And I wasn't ready to let go. Neither of us were. We both dated other people and we both tried to move on. But we still slept together sporadically, which lasted WAY longer then it should have. We still spent time together, laughing and enjoying the good stuff. And I'd find myself broken-hearted all over again every time. Until I decided to break the vicious cycle.

I realized that I was going back to the comfort of the past rather then moving to the future. I wanted him to love and support me; I wanted him to motivate me and comfort me; I wanted him to be what I needed all the time. And he wasn't Truth was, I was a much different person after 3 years of college and I was finally becoming the person I wanted to be.

That person wasn't going to be with him. I was ready to love and support myself; to give myself the strength and motivation I needed to go forward in life.

He was/is a fantastic guy and he was SOOO good to me. But we weren't good for each other.

The bottom line is this: you have to know who you are and what you want before you can ever be in a relationship with someone. I figured those things out while I was with him, which pulled us apart instead of bringing us together. Our journeys took different paths and we weren't able to give each other what we wanted and needed.

I say this to women all the time - you can't expect someone to love, support and respect you unless you love, support and respect yourself first.

Life Lesson #2: Guard your heart and your body

{part 2 of a 6-part series of lessons I've learned through my life's journey.}

{This particular post is pretty personal, so I apologize in advance. It's also very long.}

Since I grew up in such a religious household, one of the major concepts predominant in my life was purity. The idea that one's virginity was a gift to give to one's future husband. It was not only a continual trend in my church life, but it was reiterated in abstinence-based health class AND in my home life. I certainly can't say that was a bad thing.

Although when my spiritual life took the turn that it did, some of my life views went along with it. I looked at things less like a strict rule and more like a guideline of morality that can be interpreted different ways depending on my circumstances. And I believe that's still true.

Nevertheless, when I first walked away and started my journey of figuring out what I really believed, I didn't make the best decisions. I was 18 and headed off to college, after all. It was the time for experimentation. It was time to try new things and learn who I was.

Let me back up a bit before I continue with the story. When I was 16 I got a job at Wal-mart. It was actually a brand new location opening up and I knew one of the managers so I got a job pretty easily. And I stayed for two years. During this time, I met a nice guy (who we'll call D) who became a great friend of mine. He was 5 years older than me and charming as all get out. I crushed on him pretty hard and spent a few years cultivating a great friendship (although I always wanted more, he did a good job of keeping me around - man, was I young and stupid!) Even so, I considered him a great friend and someone I really trusted.

Fast forward...I'm 19 and in my first year of college (experimenting, remember.) I'd been to my first keg party and had been on a few dates here and there. I got my tongue pierced and a tattoo. Plus, I had decided along the way that I was ready to lose my virginity. I still didn't want it to be a one-night-stand or some random person I didn't know very well; but I didn't feel the same way about virginity being a precious flower for your husband's garden. (The movie Now and Then, anyone? ha ha.)

So, when I was home on break I spent some time with D and decided since we'd been friends for so long that he was the perfect person to lose my virginity to. I mean, I trusted him, right? I never really had any real conversation with him and I certainly wasn't confident enough to ask the right questions (ie: do you have a condom? do you know I'm still a virgin? etc...) Even so, I thought I was ready and I spent the night. And we had sex.

The first time is never good, but mine was worse. In retrospect I'm sure it had a lot to do with not having feelings for the person. As I've determined in my many years and the partners I've had since, sex really, REALLY is better when you love someone. I digress...

The sex was terrible. It was awkward and completely uninteresting. Half-way (about 1 minute) into it, I almost started laughing. What was the big deal about this sex thing anyway? How can people think it's that good when this is all there is? Another 60 seconds later and he went outside for a cigarette. OK. Thanks.

He came back with a glass of water. It was the least he could do, I guess. I remember sitting there in the dark, putting my clothes back on feeling so extremely weird. I told him it was my first time and he said, "oh, I didn't know." (Of course not, you can't read minds, I thought.) I left in the morning headed over to my BFF's house. She said almost immediately that she knew and didn't say anything until we were in the car on our way back to college later that afternoon.

6 months later I'm at Planned Parenthood (getting birth control because I didn't have health insurance.) I'm in stirrup-position, high-and-dry, and the doctor tells me she'll be right back. A few minutes later she returns and tells me she's done. I get dressed and she writes my prescription. Before I leave, she pulls me into another room and sits me down.

Dr.: "You have HPV."

Me: {blank stare}

Dr.: "It's a sexually transmitted disease. Are you sexually active?"

Me: "Umm..."

{Active? No. Not with multiple partners. There was D, and then my current boyfriend.}

Me: "Not really, I mean, umm...I've had sex."

Dr.: "Well, do you know anything about HPV?"

Me: {shakes head}

Dr.: "I'll get you some information, but I can tell you the basics right now."

I sat there for 20 minutes while she rattled off the facts. (18 different types; most curable or without symptoms; some permanent; 4 happen to cause cervical cancer.)

I had one of the 4.

I swallowed. Hard. What did all this mean?

I left the clinic with a huge stack of brochures and flyers about HPV.

Dr.: "You need to call all your sexual partners and tell them."

Huh? ALL my partners?

I cried the whole way home. I told my BFF, crying more. Once I calmed down, I called D.

When I finally got the words out, I awaited his reply.

D: "Well, I knew my previous girlfriend had it and that I probably got it from her. I didn't think it was a big deal. I mean, it doesn't affect me or anything."

I felt like I had been punched in the face. He knew and he didn't tell me. He knew and he didn't have the damn decency to give me all the facts before we had sex. On the other hand, I didn't ask either. I wasn't mature enough to even know the questions to ask, let along have the guts to ask them. I trusted him, so I figured he'd tell me if there was anything I needed to know. I never spoke to him again.

I had one abnormal pap smear, followed by a colposcopy. The results were a slew of pre-cancer cells on my cervix. No problem. Easily removable, the Dr. told me. No worry of cancer or anything, just a precaution. So I had the cells removed and was told I needed to return every 4-6 months for follow-up screenings. To this day, I am VERY aware of my health, especially of my female parts.

I spent the next couple months feeling extremely down. I was sure I had a neon sign on my forehead that read "dirty STD girl." I was sure people could tell and thought I was a whore. The only thing that got me through, besides my family and friends, was that I read A LOT about it. I wanted to know everything I could.

My HPV makes me more susceptible to cancer and other STD's. It may interfere with childbirth or even the ability to conceive, although it's rare. It can cause cervical displaysia or other conditions of the cervix. (Every year, 12000 women are diagnosed with cervical cancer and 70% of them are women with HPV.) There are many other minor symptoms or inconveniences, but those are the worst. I've had "the talk" with every partner I've had since then. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't do to someone else what he did to me, especially someone I cared about. The good news is that it doesn't affect men really at all. They can get lesions or genital warts (the main physical symptom of HPV), but the worst is that they can carry it an pass it on to their future partners.

So I made sure to tell every one of them so they could do the same going forward. I also took it upon myself to educate my friends on the virus and how to prevent it.

{Quick note: If you've never had the Gardasil injection, DO IT! Even if you're monogamous or married, or if you already have HPV. There are many strands and you can never be too protected.}

The biggest lesson that came from this was the following:

It doesn't matter how much you trust someone, it is solely a woman's responsibility to protect themselves. It is MY responsibility to ASK for a condom. To ask if they've been tested. To ask for double birth control. It's MY responsibility to protect my heart AND my body. In a defiant effort to lose my virginity rather then "gift it" to my future husband, I ended up with an entirely different "present" altogether. I can never take it back. But I can do my best to protect myself and my future family. I hope you gals do the same.

Life Lesson #1: Find a direction of Faith

{Post 1 of a 6-part series of lessons I've learned throughout my life's journey}

I was baptised as an infant in a small, inner-city Lutheran church. It was the same church my grandparents sang in the choir, my aunts and uncles and cousins all attended, and my parents were married in (many years later it would also be the site of many cousins's weddings and both my grandparents funerals.) It's one of those churches with huge stained-glass windows and a massive pipe organ. Much of the church is the same as it was 40 years ago and will probably be the same in 40 more.

It's a beautiful church and certainly a huge part of my childhood, but it was cold and impersonal. It wasn't a very welcoming environment to cultivate a relationship with God. So, for a while I just went through the motions.

As a young teenager, I started attending church with my father. The church was a Pentacostal Assemblies of God church. I can't speak for the Assemblies of God faith as a whole, but I can certainly say on behalf of this particular church that it was exactly the opposite of the Lutheran church I grew up in. Which was exactly what I was looking for at the time.

I went to summer camp, snow camp, Wednesday night youth service, Friday night youth bible study and of course, Sunday service. I made great friendships and really enjoyed myself. My junior year of high school I went on a mission trip to England to help teach kids about God and learned even more. Soon, though, I started realizing something about my involvement in this church - it came at a cost.

When I started being really active in the church, I was encouraged to purge unhealthy and "unChristian" things out of my life (whatever the heck that means.) I threw out all my Backstreet Boys posters (because those obscene hip gyrations were a direct insult to God) and Teen Beat magazines (can't have that filth around.) I started telling all my friends (including my bestie, Thank God she stuck with me!) that they were a bad influence and I would be spending the majority of my time with my church friends (who were CLEARLY better Christians then they were.)

The worst thing that happened (and perhaps the worst thing I've ever done) was when I told my Grandmother that she was going to hell. Yep, those exact words. I'm surprised she didn't hit me. She should have. She would have been justified.

I'd love to say the look on meine Oma's face was enough to wake me up to reality, but it was still a year or so before that happened. It actually happened shortly after my England trip.

We had spent over 2 weeks in the country-side of England working with small-town schools and churches. I was expecting the trip to involve reaching out and giving the kids places to learn and worship as opposed to "spreading the word of God." But when I found myself walking up to kids on the street and pushing my faith on them, I realized I was mistaken. Granted, many of the things we did were a huge help to the schools, but a lot of it was not what I thought God wanted me to do with my time.

When I started vocally questioning my faith, talking to youth group leaders I'd known for many years at this point, I was shocked at the response.

I attended this church because it was fresh and forward-thinking. Because it was based in education and community and allowing a safe place to make friends and work on your relationship with God. Or so I thought.

Instead, the reaction I got was disgust. Anger that I dared to question their teachings. That CLEARLY there was ONLY one way to interpret the bible and live accordingly and the fact that I doubted that was simply abhorrent. I was told I was going to hell.

It was THAT that woke me up. I realized that what they had just done to me was exactly what they had taught me to do to other people. I had detached myself from my family and friends because these people said they had my best interests at heart. They obviously didn't.

I was so ashamed. I was scared to go back and tell my father that I didn't agree with the church he'd come to love (and still attends to this day.) I was the most ashamed to return to the family I'd been so terrible to - the real people who loved me and supported me - and tell them how wrong I had been. But I did.

And if there is any act on this earth that serves as the best example of a "good Christian" it is that of forgiveness. My family forgave me, unflinchingly. And that day I walked away from the church. It broke my father's heart - and my relationship with him and his wife remains strained to this day as a result. Perhaps not surprisingly, he was the least understanding about it.

Reflecting back on the whole situation, I should have seen the flags.

~The pastor won't marry you if you have dancing at your reception

~They have "alternative proms" so you won't go dance/drink/become impregnated at your highschool prom

~They encourage students to go to college at ONLY their promoted Christian colleges

~They encourage "tithing" or giving an offering of money to the church every month, even if it means foregoing your bills (which is the one that really floors me!)

But when you're young and searching so hard for a place to fit in, it's hard to see past the people who say they love you to the reality of who they are. It took me a long time to get back to a healthy outlook on religion and faith.

Most of my college years were spent educating myself on various religions throughout the world, including a better understanding of various Christian cultures. I also spent a lot of time improving myself and my personal relationships (especially repairing the relationships with people who I'd hurt so much.)

After all, the best way to stand by what you believe is to have a truly educated and honest grasp on what others believe. Which is where I am today. I believe in God. I live to be the best person I can, flaws included. I love and forgive and work hard. I am always re-checking my faith to make sure I'm on track and staying strong.

Christianity isn't about how religious you are or how many people to "bring God to." It's about living by example; being a good person and trying your best to love the people around you the best you can. It's about friendship and respect. It's about education.

It took me a long time to find the best way to live out my faith. I'm so blessed that my friends and family forgave me for how I treated them and since have encouraged my new faith-based attitude. Most of all, I'm glad God was patient while I figured out how to best honor Him.