Too Young

Last week, I GOT ENGAGED!

We put a lot of thought into whether we should even announce it because we would basically asking for people to judge us. But to keep it secretive would invite even more questioning. 

When we decided to say it, I told him that people might "like" it and then talk crap behind our backs. Which of course actually happened.

We've received a lot of mind-opening feedback, honestly. But only a couple really stick out to me. Mostly though, "are you guys getting married so fast because she's pregnant?!" 

I WISH. Trust me if I could just voilá and be pregnant, I would. But unfortunately, we're only getting married because we are crazy in love with each other. Sorry y'all. Also, getting married because you're pregnant isn't a bad thing. So don't say it with such distaste in your judgmental mouth. 

In the Mormon culture, getting married at 20 is completely normal. Getting married after only dating a couple months is completely normal. My oldest sister was married at the same time in my life when I met Zach. So I'm behind. Okay not really but I really hope you catch my drift. 

I know what you're all thinking and why you're thinking it. 

Because 20 is young. I totally get that.

But 4 was too young; the first time I was thrown from my chair across the room because I dropped my cup of juice at dinner and spilled its contents. 

7 was too young; the first time I got punched because I didn't know how to do the math problem.

And 14 was too young; when my sister had to scream and wrestle him just so he wouldn't stab me with my golf club he just snapped in half, all because the ball wouldn't fly straight.

16 was too young; I was left alone with my parents, the protection of my sisters gone when they finally could escape to colleges around the world, and I succumbed to the depression that had always been looming.

And 17 was too young; when I was forced into adulthood after becoming just another domestic-violence teenage-pregnancy case.

18 was way too young- when my purpose for life, my whole heart and soul was ripped away from me.

19 was too young; when I got punched, shoved, cussed out and degraded in every way, every day by a boy who said he loved me.

So 20? 20 has been what I've been waiting for. 20 is finally happening. He's never going to hit me. He's never going to say derogatory things to me, or about me to his friends. He's going to help me out of this blackness. He's going to love me despite the hate, and cruelty and bitterness that I have become because of the things I've had to experience in my younger years. He's going to accept all my apologies, because we hate fighting, and we love each other. He's going to make me smile, and laugh, and snicker every single day. And when he tells me he loves me, I know with every fiber of my being that he means it, and he will always mean it.

Because I already knew by the day I turned 20, mere weeks after we met, that I wanted to be with him forever.

Because he is making all my dreams come true. And he is better than any dream I've ever dreamt.

Because when you've had to go through all the horrible things I've had to, you learn to cling to all the

light and happiness you can find in this annoyingly long life.

And I will cling. Even though I'm only 20.