Every good story has a moment of doubt

   I'm not perfect. There, got that huge secret out of the way. In fact, I'm pretty much the opposite of perfect, but I didn't know that that was okay until recently. At some moment in my 22 years, I convinced myself that I had to do everything right the first time, I had to look fantastic at all times, and I was never, ever allowed to fail. All throughout elementary, middle, and high schools I was one of "those people." The one who made straight A's and was always called up during the awards ceremonies. I took AP classes in high school, made good enough scores on my exams to earn college credit, and graduated 9th in my class with honors. I had been accepted into an amazing college and had done well enough in high school to earn an academic scholarship. Basically, I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down....

   Fast forward to my junior year of college and my first year of nursing school. Looking back now, I can't think of a better word to call myself other than "haughty." I mean, I had breezed through high school and my first two years of college. This was going to be a piece of cake, right? I took good notes, I studied hard, I highlighted my book so much it looked like a traffic sign. I went in to take the test (a little nervous for my first one, but still confident) and tried to recall everything I had studied the past couple of weeks. I felt pretty good coming out of it and was as calm as can be when I went to see my grade. As I looked down at the piece of paper that held what would end up defining me, I had to do a double take. 82. A "C" by our nursing school's standards. The very first C I had ever made, but the first of many to come. That one C, that one grade had, in about 2 seconds, started me on the downhill slope that I would ultimately head down. I know what some of you may be thinking: "Is she serious? It's one grade. One grade doesn't define an entire class." Something you need to stop and realize though is that, my entire life, I had gauged my self-worth by my academic status. It was who I was. That one grade shook my confidence enough to where, when I went into my next test, the exact same thing happened. I made a C. This happened again and again throughout all of my nursing classes (with a few A's and B's dispersed in between) until my senior year. My very last semester of nursing school. I had made it this far. All that stood between me and graduation was one class. One. Class. The first few went pretty decent, a B and a C (which at this point, I still wasn't happy about, but after seeing some of my friends fail classes, I could deal with it a little bit better). Then on the third test, my worst nightmare happened. I failed. If you thought I was a wreck due to a C, failing probably seemed like the apocalypse. My confidence and what I thought of myself was spiraling dangerously out of control. As you can probably guess, I had a very bad anxiety problem. Everything made me anxious and I was having panic attacks on a daily basis. I spent about 97% of my time studying and the other 3% stressing out about studying. No matter how much I studied, I never felt prepared going into a test, and it was surely showing. I failed more tests in that one semester than I would like to recall. I struggled through studying at this point, thinking "what's the point? I'm just gonna fail it anyway," but still spending all my time and energy trying to make it through the class. My family and friends were trying their hardest to be supportive and understanding, but I could tell they were concerned. I wasn't sleeping; I wasn't eating, and for someone who at 21 only weighed 110 pounds, that was a huge issue. The more stress I began to heap on myself, the more perfect I was trying to be, the less I had a grip on reality. I could feel myself slowing started to lose touch with who I really was, not the perfect student I was trying to be, but who I REALLY was: a child of God. God was trying so hard to reach me through all this, but all I could think about was studying more and more. It had become a sickening addiction. I didn't pray, didn't read my Bible, and even skipped church on Sundays so I could read over my notes and textbook. I was obsessed with being perfect, obsessed with trying so hard to prove that I was smart and capable. I had become who the world was trying to make me, and as we all know, that never turns out well.
   Going into my final, I was borderline passing the class. My anxiety had ruined me. My obsession with perfection had destroyed everything I had built my entire life on. The night before my final, I had the biggest panic attack I had ever experienced. I couldn't breath, my heart was racing, and I literally felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn't do anything except sit curled up in the corner of my couch and pray that it ended soon. I couldn't tell you a single question that was on that final. All I knew was that I was physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I went in to what I hoped would be my final grading report. As I walked into the room, I knew instantly what my fate was going to be. The professors faces didn't give anything away. I just knew. I failed the class with a 79.88. Every single hope and dream I had ever had was, at that moment, shattered by a measly 0.12 points. When I heard my grade, I'm pretty sure my mind shut down. I was completely numb. I couldn't cry. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything. I don't even remember walking out of the room, but I somehow ended up in Weaver where my best friend was working at her work-study job. I had somehow managed to call my mom and tell her, and that's when I broke down and cried. I sat on the steps outside and cried on the phone to my mom until I started hyperventilating. I had failed. I was a failure. In my eyes, I had committed the world's worst sin. I spent the next 24 hours between crying at the drop of a hat and sulking in my cottage. All I could think about was how I had let everyone down. All the hard work I had put into the last 17 years was for nothing. My dad traveled over 10 hours from Texas to be with and I was on the phone constantly with my mom. My best friend forced my to go to social events so I wouldn't be sitting on my couch, sinking deeper and deeper into my own secret depression. I put on a brave face for everyone, but on the inside I was fighting a spiritual battle. I felt absolutely worthless. I felt like I was the biggest loser that had ever existed. It was forced labor just for me to go eat dinner with my friends. I became so paranoid, thinking that even though everyone was being nice and supportive, they were thinking the same things I was. Knowing that I wasn't going to graduate when I thought I was suppose to made me so angry at myself. I was angry that I was failure. I was angry that I was incompetent. Graduation was like agony for me. I was so proud of my friends and celebrated with them for their success, but on the inside I was bitter and resentful. I hated myself for what had happened. For weeks, I continued to let the anger and hate build up inside of me, letting the sickness of perfection consume me. I was allowing myself to become depressed, but I didn't care. Like I said, I hated myself. And then one day, I decided that I had had enough.
   I had basically reached an all-time low. I saw all my friends getting these amazing opportunities, and while I was genuinely happy for them, in the back of my mind I was thinking, "why couldn't that be me?" As I was thinking about all the opportunities I was missing out on, I just began to pray. Hard. And then I began to cry. A lot. I apologized to my Heavenly Father for essentially kicking Him out of my life. I apologized for not letting Him help me with something I obviously needed help with. And I apologized for hating myself, His child that He created. After I had poured everything I had left into that prayer, and had drained myself of every tear that I had, I heard the smallest voice saying, "I love you, even when you don't love yourself." Well, that just made me come up with a whole new bucket of tears. I then felt a small flicker of hope inside me, like maybe it wasn't all over. Maybe, just maybe, this was all part of His plan. Maybe this was part of a bigger picture that I just couldn't see yet. And maybe, *gasp* I just had to accept the fact that I'm not perfect. No one is. Those flaws, I've slowly come to learn, are what build our testimony. They make up who we are. If we were perfect, we wouldn't have needed someone to die for us. I am not perfect; I have flaws; I failed a class; but I am loved. I am loved by my family who are my biggest support. I am loved by my amazing friends that I couldn't imagine life without. I am loved by my Savior who loves me, even when I don't love myself.

Giant Leap of Faith

      Hey everyone! I've kind of decided to go out on a limb and try something that most people (including myself) don't like doing: talking about imperfections. If you know me at all, you know how much of a perfectionist I am. That phrase, "You're your own worst critic"?.....yeah, I'm pretty sure whoever said that was talking about me. If you know me then you also know how much of a whirlwind this year has been for me so far. In a nutshell, I was suppose to graduate from college this past May with my nursing degree, but didn't (I'll go into more detail about that later). Since then, there has been many ups and downs, tears and screaming, and a LOT of prayer. One of those ups (hopefully) is the decision to start this blog. I've shared my testimony with a few people, and they all seem to say the same thing: that I helped them by doing so. With aspirations of being a nurse, knowing that I've helped people is always a plus to me. I don't want to become famous by doing this, or to be known by tons of people because of the things I post. Nothing that I have done so far, or will do in the future, can be attributed to myself. God has held me in His hands my entire life, never letting me go even when I was kicking and screaming, trying to get away. I am the person I am because of Him. If you don't get anything else out of what I write, please grasp this: God is amazing. He loves you. If you let Him, He will make your life worth living. 

       Now I want to take a minute to explain the title of this blog. I thought for a while trying to think of the perfect name that describes me and wear I'm at in life. The "faith" and "trust" are self-explanatory: I have had to put every ounce of faith and trust that I have into God and His will for my life. The "polka dots" part is because.....well, I'm incredibly girly and love pretty things, plus my newly found love for crafting has become somewhat of an obsession =) There is also a small nod to my love for Disney as well (think Peter Pan). Yes, at 22 years old, I still shamelessly watch Disney movies. I've even been told that I remind my friends of Rapunzel (possibly because she hits herself with a frying pan, but hey, I'll take it). I hope that I haven't bored you yet and that you stay tuned for more details, because I can promise you, my happily ever after is yet to come.....