+ i have won. +

I am protected; guarded; covered.
He is faithful to be mine.
Get your twisting hands away from me,
send your wolves away.
I am the light you are drawn to
and it is the light that will defeat you.
You dim my sight and you escalate my senses to fear.
You taunt me, taking even the simplest choices from me.
Towards you, or away from you?
To fight? Without knowing what this is?
Are you coming for me, or only for those I love?
But then I see;
I am the light, the light you were drawn to.
What saves me is what beckons death.
I am paralyzed by what I am;
what gives me away, what I cannot shake.
It takes your own shape,
yet you seek to circle and threaten to kill.
I have always run;
wearer of the laurels, victorious one.
Daughter that wins the race.
But this I cannot outrun,
this I cannot escape.
And so I am protected; guarded; covered.
I have a shield of faith,
my feet have been anchored;
shoes of peace.
Get your hands away from me,
send your wolves back into the trees;
like a coward you come in my sleep.
I am protected; guarded; covered;
I have won.

+ blind. +

it is better to be blind and to stand alone in one place
than to make out a blurry goal in front of you
and stumble madly and wildly towards it
clawing at everything that seems in your way

for what do you do
when your legs give out where the goal should have been
and you realize it was nothing at all
and your sight is still limited to the Before
and now your eyes are locked on the bites and scratches you barely knew
you were leaving

what do you do
when you realize the prize is given
only when everyone makes it
but that no one ever explained the rules

i do not know.

+ see. +

i am too transient.
transparent. translucent. adaptable. influenced.
i am what i see.
i follow my eyes. they change everything. everything changes me.
i can promise nothing;
water promises nothing.
what could i promise?
what could i swear to be? what could i guarantee? what could i fill?
i am what i see;
i could never give you my eyes.
glass, cities, oceans, distance, galaxies, shadows, coffee, wires, that one time, vacant, skies, constraint, freedom, barefoot, yesterday, tomorrow, one day, never, forsythia, dreams, smokey, clean.
all these things i become;
all these things making me slip, slip, slip.
it should have been
part, whole; whole forever.
instead i am
whole, part; part forever.
it isn’t that you want to keep me as i am;
it is that i am what i see.

+ remembering. +

When I was twelve, my friend had a slumber party birthday. Best friends, silly girls, sweet girls. I was shy, and worked hard to get along with the other girls. Anna was my friend, that was all I needed. I didn't understand the other girls. Cornfields, puppy, tire swing. After the day in the sun, we set up a spa in the basement to paint our nails. I was again unsettled, nervous; I'd never painted my nails. We soon discovered that I was the best. I finally fit in! All the little hands waited til I could paint their nails the best. For my own nails, I turned down every color given to me, until they got to pink. Daddy only liked pink. Pink is for ladies, I'd heard him tell my mom. Little girl pride, excitement, novelty.

A bit later, mom and dad picked me up. I wasn't allowed to spend the night; they didn't know all the other little girls. Still bubbling, I slid happily into the backseat. My hands folded in my lap, I smiled into the window at my reflection. Lauren Nicole. Yes?! Let me see your hands. Fear, panic, anxiety. I held my hands out, shaking, to show off my stubby hot pink nails with my special 'glitter dots.' Lauren. Terror. The minute you get home you will go to the bathroom and take off that horrible nail polish. But... No, Lauren. It's trashy. You are not allowed to paint your nails. I will not go to church in the morning with a daughter who looks like that. Disappointment, hurt, shame. My pretty pink color was trashy. I was trashy. Daddy didn't think I was pretty. Daddy didn't want me to have fun with all the other girls. Daddy didn't want to be seen with me. Those girls...they were trashy. Too grown up for their age. I wanted to be pretty, but pretty was wrong. Those girls were wrong. I was different, again. I wasn't allowed to fit in, again. Just me, like no one but myself, again. Plain hands, again. I cried myself to sleep.

Ten years later.

Lauren Nicole. Fear, panic, anxiety. You are miserable because you haven't repented for when you've dishonored your parents. You are the wrong type of girl. You aren't the girl your father is proud of. Disappointment, hurt, shame.Your father has never hurt you, ever. You're wrong. He's always loved you. Your father has never treated you badly. This is all your fault. It's always been my fault. Don't expect a birthday card for the fifth year in a row. You don't deserve it. You were the one that hurt your father, not the other way around. No! I was hurt! Lauren, your father won't be seen with you, ever. I'm the wrong type of girl.

---

Note: I've had two or three people ask me if it's wrong to post publicly about family issues. I want to say I'm aware of this concern, and I've wrestled with it in prayer. What I write is from the depths of my heart, and as a girl who is fighting to learn to finally speak these things, I've found a new 'letting go' and freedom in honesty of being open with past hurts. Despite everything, I love my parents very much. But this is me, my life, struggling to piece things together for myself. The encouragement I receive from all of you helps me in incredible amounts. Thank you for listening, understanding, and loving. xoxo

+ movement. girl: sold. +

spindly legs
just like the spokes
uphill
down
so much up
so much down

freckles, spindles
long and lean
clean
so much clean
so much clean

just like that
no just like this
blue
so much blue
always, always blue

eight miles
two thousand and eight miles
two thousand and five, miles
miles
so much coming
so much going

spindles sold
spindly sold
sold
not enough girl
too much, girl

girl: sold.

+ Life Lessons: What I Learned In The First 22 Years +

Remember when we were little kids that had bad days? As we get older, we seem to have bad years. Off years. This has been a hell of an off year for me, and I have absolutely had it. So, after spending a week in Los Angeles and Phoenix, giving myself time off, time to think, write, and have some incredible conversations with darling Annie, I am renewed and motivated again. I’m in the airport writing this, in hopes of solidifying everything before “getting home” brings me back to earth.

Every year we get older, rules change a little for living. I’ve changed a lot, and have been in desperate need of repairing and creating a whole array of new little synapses between the updated me, and you – the world.

In a sense, this is a list of changes I’m consciously making, based off the most important lessons I’ve learned in the last 22 years, in order to develop my life into one I’m happy to live:

+ Keep a “thankful for” journal. Hot damn, I’m ready to focus on the overwhelming amount of good in my life.

+ Business hours for my social life.

+ Understand that sleep is my most valuable asset.

+ Surround myself with inspiring visuals and sound. Environment is everything.

+ Limit the number of close friends I have. Write them down, and invest in them. Commit.

+ Create what I love, not what I think other people will.

+ View my life holistically, not in terms of times, places, or periods.

+ Never underestimate the power of beauty.

+ KNOW it’s the journey, and not the destination. (I’m sorry, but for all you perfectionist, goal-oriented, big-picture people, this is one oozing cliché you’re just going to have to accept as truth, and learn to ignore the elephant of how-to, self-help, 10-ways-to-happiness shit factor that it is. )

+ Realize that I have control of my life as a whole. Truly. I control what I do. For the parts that are outside of my control, I have control of my perception.

+ Keep a list of things I wish I knew. Block off time to learn those things.

+ Don’t ever turn an opportunity down because I fear the result.

+ With every choice, ask if it simplifies or complicates. Be honest with myself.

+ Most limitations are illusions. Almost any obstacle can be overcome if I genuinely work at it.

+ What I focus on, expands. Ask myself every morning what I will focus on today. Write it down EVERYWHERE.

+ Take myself on dates. Regularly. Pretend I am in a relationship with myself. Take myself places I wish someone would take me, sit down and talk to myself. I can’t have quality relationships with others until I know the person having a relationship with them. So get to know that person – me.

+ Take care of myself. Treat myself like I would my daughter.

+ Carry around a pad or tablet for a week and mark down the moments I am happiest or excited ( + column ) and the moments I am drained, stressed, or unhappy ( - column ) . Take myself on a date, and work on arranging my life in a way that increases my +’s and decreases my –‘s.

+ Scrapbook. Not craft mom scrapbook. Keep a booklet (small enough I can throw in my purse or bag or backpack) around with a pen and some tape so I can throw every fleeting though, inspirational-anything, great ad, idea, photo, or pretty thing in it. Start documenting my life OFF the computer.

+ Give, not take. Give to myself, and give to others. Don’t let anyone take from me and don’t take from anyone else. Don’t let a day go by that I don’t consciously give to myself AND to someone else.

+ Compartmentalize only the bad, and none of the good.

+ Ten minutes every morning. Work it into EVERY morning before I go anywhere or do anything. Think about nothing other than myself. Get to know the person that’s getting ready to live my day.

+ Learn to believe that I am unique and can honestly give in ways that no one else can. I may not know right now what I can give, but when I believe it, I’ll see it.

+ Learn to need others and be needed. Do group projects and collaborations.

+ Everyday, stop and use my eyes’ macro lens. I may forget it often, but I’m a badass camera. Watch a bug, study a snowflake or blade of grass. Come to a dead stop and change my view for a couple of seconds, and I’ll see the world differently.

+ Do things I’m afraid of doing. Failure is better than not attempting.

+ Don’t be afraid of pain. Don’t run from it, don’t smother it, and don’t let decisions be influenced by it. There is a healthy outlet for pain, unique to me. Find it, use it, and create with it.

+ Love people. If you don’t have it already, make a conscious effort to develop a deep love for people and humanity as a whole. People are the key to life. Love them, know them, meet them, listen to them, learn from them. View everyone as an encyclopedia with a beating heart.

+ Don’t let weaknesses affect strengths. Use strengths regardless of weaknesses, and focus in on weaknesses one at a time. Work on them in environments where it’s already acknowledged that you can’t, and you’re there to get better.

+ Exchange my “I can’t” to “can you teach me?”

+ i'm back. +

I know what I miss. I miss my imagination. I miss fairytales. I miss the story telling, the make-believe. I miss creating worlds and colors in my head. I miss using my hands to build a prettier place. I miss the beautiful things. The real ones. I miss feeling everything with my whole body - when the senses were still new - when I could find things I hadn’t before. I miss picturing what I wanted without being miserable that it wasn’t possible. I miss being able to escape reality. I miss knowing that life is what you make of it - in your mind, not by actions. I miss feeling. Wholly. I miss when the colors were brighter, the touch was heavier, the breathing more clean. I miss the universe as something astounding to be explored, not corrupted to be avoided. I miss my childhood mind.

+ alive.+

i'm sorry for the unannounced sabbatical i've been on. i overworked myself and am paying for it dearly. doing a little better today...found this photo i loved and wanted to share. :) the writing below is mine. love you all.

tiny thing, i know the smoke that circles down your lungs and envelopes your heart. the skin you wear that tugs and pulls at everything within. the hope your eyes have given up as they stare through everyone they see.

twenty ten.

happy new year!

i played with the idea of posting my resolutions,
but since most of them are about doing things,
i thought i'd post what i've done so far. :)

writing.

drawing.

random project.

---

post script: i also have a tumblr now, so you should follow me! sensoryregister

post post script: i have a formspring too. i've thought they were pointless for the longest time, but we'll give it a shot and see what happens. laurenlankford

+ sometimes, i write. +

I'm getting better at knowing what I need, and even better at seeing my flaws. It's amazing how honest writing forces you to be.

Someone stop her
the girl
with all the beautiful things
slow
slow her down
she enjoys
only
the finding and
not
the having
someone stop her
teach
her to see what
she has
already found
teach her
to enjoy it a little
longer
show
her she has found
enough
she has enough
someone


stop her

p.s. new self-portraits here.

+ this is what he's for +

so often i feel like the child
that is
sitting on the ground waiting patiently
for my daddy
to finish building my bridge
so i can get across the river
while i'm laughed at by the neighbor boy
that taunts me for needing
someone else's help
and brags
that he doesn't need HIS
daddy's help
because he is big enough
grown up enough
to do it himself now.
and it hurts.
and i sit
and stare at my hands
and wonder if maybe
maybe
i'm just too small,
not enough.
but then i realize,
as i tiptoe across my new bridge
made just for me
that the neighbor boy is still
stranded
because he can't find long and strong
enough sticks
and everything keeps
breaking
despite all his efforts
indeed more effort than my own
and that on top of this
he is alone.
and it hurts.
and all i want to do
is go back
and take him by the hand
and kiss him on the forehead
and walk him across my bridge
and say it's okay,
this
this is what daddies are for.

+ ache. +

"Time heals all wounds. It does not heal love."

---

flickr: flickr.com/lauren_nicole

---

Europe may have picked me up off the floor, but it stole from me the romantic innocence I took for granted and now long for in the presence of the cynicism, uncertainty, and jadedness that flew home with me. I am bereft of such naïveté and mourn it's loss. But I'm trying.

---

this writing was stolen from madison over at her blog. i hope she doesn't mind. read her a bit. she's wonderful. and now, i'm off to find coffee. oh and ps. i went to an estate auction this weekend and got so many pretty things. pictures soon. yay. annnd p.p.s. i also re-organized all my links over there --> by category so it's easier for you to find the pretty things you want most! xoxo

+ here to stay. +

---

more of this photo here.

---

the danger of a broken heart is not the pain.
not the tears, or anger.
not the ache, not the loneliness,
not the quiet, the empty seat, the bed now much too big.

the danger of a broken heart is what we have to repair it with.
mistrust, hopelessness, faux comfort.
independence.
the oaths we take. what we swear to ourselves.
the danger is self-reliance.

the danger is that these stitches in our heart don't fall out.
that they are there to stay.
because they must.

the danger is that we know it isn't about love anymore.
and,
it isn't about how perfect we are in our world.
it's about how perfect we are in theirs.

the danger is that two became one.
and a half of one...
well.

half is not whole.

but now we must make it so.

+ pretending. +

 

i want to squint my eyes til all that can i see
are the blinding, glassy drops of water
bouncing off the rays of light between you and me

 

+ wednesday. +

why does time grant the illusion
of innocence?

yesterday, sins.
last year, only missteps.

are we simply forgetful creatures?
or is this a gift.
so that we have some hope of
holding hands
again and again and again.

-lauren nicole

- - -

i bought another book!

+ have i found love? +

Preface: Over the last several years, I have suffered from panic attacks and periods of severe anxiety; this being the overflow of the fear that is rooted in the rock-bottom depths of myself: I must be perfect in order to secure a love that will never leave me, and I cannot be perfect.

When my dad and the anchor of my world stopped being a dad, and became simply my father, I realized that there was nothing I could say nor do to accurately express nor portray who I truly was, and how much I loved, needed, and wanted his love and presence. I realized that my security was entirely at the mercy of the perception [of me] of the person choosing to love or not love me. I had always thought that if they just knew what was inside...if they could just see my heart, they would never leave me, never be harsh with me, never speak against me, never hurt me, and most certainly never do the worst: abandon me.

Since I was 17, I have sought to find an accurate definition or picture of love. My definition thus far has been painfully skewed: Love is someone else doing what they think is best for you, and you earn this love from them by being perfect in their eyes. Read that again, and let it resonate.

The default definition of Love that I came to was Jesus's death. But sacrifice didn't seem to cut it - I can't find someone to nail me to a tree, and even if I could, it would serve no purpose here. But today, I think I am finally seeing the beginning of the picture, and I want to share. The heart of it, I believe, is this: REAL Love is something that is always given in spite of you, never earned.

- - -

I am not loved because I am perfect.
I am loved because I am not perfect.

It is my imperfection that makes it possible for me to be loved.

The sole purpose of Righteousness is to be placed in a position where love unhindered can be both given and received.

Righteousness is the means, not simply the end goal.

My righteousness no longer comes from my being and doing that which is perfect (for it cannot guarantee love) – my righteousness comes to me in love, from Christ, because I am imperfect.

This is a new love(!); we love because he first loved us. This is a new love; one that is safe, and does not allow my imperfections to cause me to fall out of love, for it is these very imperfections that allow me to be made whole by a righteousness not my own, in order that I my be the recipient and also the giver of a true, pure, and honest love. Perfect love, that casts out all fear. This love is now out of my hands, forever. What peace!

Sin is missing the mark.
My sins are not my conscious slaps in the face of God with the intention of hurting him.
My sins are missing the mark of what is best – what makes me whole.
My sins are the actions I take that give evidence of how broken and hurt I am.
My sins are my desperate search to numb pain, fill emptiness, and feel whole – and fail.

My sins are my imperfections, not what makes righteousness impossible, or what keeps the aching hope of love at bay.

No, if I were perfect, I would not need a righteousness not my own. And if I did not need a righteousness not my own, I would never experience a Love that says “I want you for you, not what you can do for me.”

Again, my constant state of missing the mark is what triggers the outpour of compassion on me from a Father who loves me as a child –

Again, my imperfections ALLOW his righteousness to work itself out in me, which places me in the position we all hunger and hope for: to stand in the middle of a saturating love that does not rely on me.

At last, something I cannot ruin.

I cannot ruin this.

Love, forever.

+ sabotage +

I.
i am not safe to speak.
my lips do not yet know my heart.
i sabotage myself.
perhaps you truly cannot fight
to be at peace.

II.
do you not know?
i am one great experiment.
if you hear ink and not lead
i will stop speaking,
altogether.

-lauren nicole

+ therapy +

thank you for digging around on my blog. :) if you are looking for substance, click through the "writing" and "observation" labels to read what i write. it's what i love most, and where my heart is, but i try not to be overwhelming.

you can find my website here: laurennicolelove.com

- - -

every so often, i force myself to write these obnoxious little social-networking prompted autobiographies in order to face what exactly it is that makes up lauren nicole. i've found it's also a very good way to see what was on the front of my mind at different points in my life. so, here goes.

- - -

My name is Lauren Nicole. I was almost Madison, but my parents didn’t like the nicknames. According to my birth certificate I was born 22 years ago. But most days, I either act six, 16 or 26. I love way too easily, and way too hard. I can’t handle when people make self-deprecating comments. The only reason I am still a functioning human being is because of an outrageous grace and an unconditional love. If I care about you, I will do everything within my power to show you these things. I care about everyone. I tend to either over simplify, or over complicate. I’m still learning how to grow up. I expect a lot from myself, and usually nothing from anyone else. I stand up for everyone. If you cry, I cry. My heart is way too big. I haven’t gained a pound since I was 16. My brother and I share clothes. I hate negative humor; if it’s at someone else’s expense, it’s not funny. The keys to my heart are as follows: single flowers, little doodles and drawings, hand-written notes, little tiny things, French vintage jewelry, anything from Anthropologie, and being taken places I’ve never been. I’m good at a whole lot of things, and not really great at anything. I am an ADD perfectionist. I am not from Ohio. I am an early riser and a night owl. I am a firm believer in honesty. I am always biting off way more than I can chew. I take walks, and want you to come with me. In the summer, I live outside. I hate cold. I am not a favorites person, but my favorite place in the world is the Lux in Phoenix, Arizona. I do too much, and doing less is on my to do list. There is nothing you can ask me that I won’t tell you. I would die for any of my siblings. I make mistakes a lot. I want to know everything you’re scared of, and everything that hurts. I’m a color addict. I’m 50/50 in every category on every personality test I’ve ever taken. I like my music loud. Really, really, really loud. My interests will probably confuse you. I insist on seeing the best in everyone, even when it bites me in the butt. I believe in pda. I’m pretty much a different person every three months, because I tend to change very quickly. I put 100% of my heart into everything I do. Its dangerous, but the only way to do it. I’m a big sister, and you can tell. I’m not a feminist, but if you put girls down, we aren’t friends. My parents don’t know anything about me, and today that hurts. I’m working really hard on being right here, right now. Sometimes when life wears me out, I pretend that you can trust boys. If you want to know anything else, you should probably have coffee, tea, or a smoothie with me.

+ a study on brokenness, part one +

We are objects of the greatest pain, yet insist on muting our heart-wrenching cries. We do not voice our plea for comfort, we do not implore for consolation, we do not beg for solace. It is numbing, debilitating, and disabling, and we stubbornly march on, idiotically expecting the cracks and tears to hold water, and the shattered bones and hearts to hold our weight.

We call ourselves a broken people, yet do we understand what we are admitting to? I cannot help but experience it unceasingly, yet I seldom comprehend the depths of brokenness. More often than not, I admit to being broken as an excuse for not being whole, instead of as a despairing confession of utter helplessness and paralyzing hurt. I readily call myself broken; anyone who has seen the past few years of my life knows I couldn’t be anything but this. Every once in awhile, those that catch glimpses of my heart in its rawness will witness a rightly warranted desperation; this offers undeniable proof of my true state, even if against my will.

We all cry out, and we all admit to our brokenness, yet I find that we still deny just how absolute and vindicating the state of being broken truly is. We are still uneasy to justify acting out of brokenness; so hesitant to allow ourselves to believe that our mistakes and emotional instability are compassionately acquitted by the intensity of brokenness. We almost comically attempt to mitigate the severity of brokenness, not realizing that broken is broken. Simply put, I can come to terms with being broken yet I persistantly expect myself to act out of wholeness.

In light of all this, my hypothesis: we do not accurately grasp the totality of Broken.

- - -

Bro⋅ken [broh-kuhn]

1. Reduced to fragments.
2. Ruptured; torn; fractured.
3. Not functioning properly; out of working order.
4. Incomplete.
5. Weakened in strength, spirit.
6. Lacerated; wounded.
7. Reduced.
8. Forcibly destroyed.
9. Spoken in a halting or fragmentary manner, as under emotional strain.
10. Disunited; divided.
11. Rough; irregular.
12. Ruined; bankrupt.
13. Smashed, split, or divided into parts violently.
14. Ignored.
15. Dissolved or annulled.
16. Destroyed regularity, continuity, or arrangement.
17. Having had a part stolen or removed.
18. Disabled; destroyed.
19. Overcome or worn down in spirit or strength.
20. Caused to yield under extreme pressure or torture.
21. Impaired; weakened.
22. Trained away from the natural state.
23. Shattered.
24. Ended ubruptly.
25. Inoperative; malfunctioned.
26. Detached; separated; disassociated.
27. Overwhelmed.
28. Value dropped sharply and considerably.
29. Collapsed; breakdown.
30. Severed prematurely.
31. Crushed.
32. Ripped; torn; halved.
33. Forcibly separated into pieces; pierced.
34. Flawed.
35. To give up.
36. Rendered useless.
37. Failed; unusable; of no value or worth.
38. Split into lesser parts.
39. Weak.
40. Helpless.

+ forward +

when the morning sun breaks, it brings a forced rememberance. all is new.
colors, details, shapes and shadows disappear, making way for only the whites and yellows, blending everything together. yesterday's eyes, pathetic. the piercing warmth casts forgiving rays that soften and blind the outlines of our harsh reality and the mistakes it contains. yesterday has ended. the consuming, all-captivating strength of our sun is our salvation. the source of light commands our gaze. in it's wake, all else is insignificant and unworthy even of thought. we can and will see nothing else except that which is before us, for we are now blinded by light. praise, eternal. - lauren nicole.