Reality of my Life

I've hesitated to post about this because I know there's only so much I can type to convey what I want to say. And a lot of you will have questions so please ask.

I had a meeting with a lawyer on Thurs for my disability case. After he looked at all my med reports and such he thinks I have a viable case. So we are proceeding with the process to get disability. Next step is waiting (min 11 mos) for a hearing to determine my case. (Pray it goes quicker) and in the meantime doing what I'm doing daily to help myself be stable.

Why disability?
In considering my options since 2013, disability was not on the table. I was working part time and going to all my my therapy appts. However, time has gone by and my ability to hold a job decreased due to the overwhelming symptoms of the mental illnesses I struggle with daily. 9 hospital stays later and countless med changes and I am now unable to work. I just finished a work evaluation where I am evaluated to if I can even mentally hold a job and I failed. So even the possibility of working part time is out.

But when I knew you, you were "fine" (pre 2013).
Yes. I wasn't actively seeking treatment pre 2013. That's because I hid the symptoms so well. I have struggled with bouts of suicide and depression as far back as I can remember. I just never told anyone because I was afraid. There are countless instances where mental health symptoms have interfered with my life. 1)inability to hold onto relationships very well 2)obsessions over little things 3)the incessant need to not be alone 4)manic behaviors all are part of my symptoms. So, yes, I looked fine. I acted semi ok. But inside I was falling apart.

There have been a lot of rumours and things said about me in the last few years by people who refuse to understand whats going on with me. What has been said has been either partially true or total lies. I want you to know that you can come directly to me and I will tell the truth. My story is not just for me, I believe. Which is why I am open about my struggle with mental illness. And I always will be.

#breakthesilence

Kitchen Chaos

I grew up with my mom's pristine and cheerful kitchen. Everything has its place. You wanted a mixing bowl, they were right where the mixing bowls go. You want a spoon or a kitchen do-hickey? Check the utensil drawer. Mom would whip up hearty meals and snacks but I never saw her kitchen unclean. She did and still does the dishes every day. She made sure the counters are cleared except for the pile of mail. Mom's kitchen was a place of light and fun. And some of  heartache, but most of my cherished memories are in mom's kitchen.

But.....I avoid my kitchen like the plague. I hate being in there. I dislike the way it is organized even though I organized it myself. But the thing I dislike the most is that I can't seem to be able to motivate myself to keep it clean. Doing dishes daily is a chore and who needs to put dishes away when you're just going to use them again? Trash is a big one for me too. Half the time the stuff ends up in bags thr other half its just sitting there. I got fed up with myself this afternoon and started putting dishes away which lead to clearing the counters then organizing the pantry and then sorting out the cupboards and on and on until I stopped to catch my breath and I realize I just had a manic attack. And my kitchen looks like this now. (See picture)

This isn't my first apartment. My first apartment was a one bedroom and bath, no kitchen or hallway. I had to use a steamer, a microwave and/or a crock pot to cook. I did all my dishes in the shower. Lol. My fridge was too small even for a gallon or half gallon of milk. So I bought it by the quart. Living like that taught me to be grateful for every living space that I had. It also taught me to miss a real kitchen. So I'm conflicted. As I write this I keep hearing the words "be kind to yourself". And I remember that life isn't about having clean kitchens but its about the process it takes you to get the kitchen clean. So I have to ask myself "what am I supposed to learn from this?" I still don't have the energy to clean it tonight but then, there's always tomorrow.

Trust and depression

My story is long but I'll try to keep it short.
I streuggle with several mental illnesses every single day. I do not get a break or rest from the anxiety and stress this causes not to mention the other mental symptoms that I have.
Today I was going thru a box of office supplies and found 7 unused journals. Lol. And then 2 half used ones. To my surprise one of the half used journals was from January 2018 right after I got off the psych ward. I was there for 7 days. It was good for me but incredibly difficult to accept that this is my life right now. In and out of the psych ward. That was my 13th time of being hospitalized since 2013.
Anyways, I read what I wrote during that time and was surprised at the truth of what I was saying. I won't post it all here but one thing was "Trust is both blind faith and logical fact". How true.
I havent journaled since.
Me not journaling says A LOT. I have over 35 journals spanning 18 years. (I'm getting older - gasp!) So yeah, I just know that somehow in my mind I just gave up on journaling. It feels like I have nothing important to say.

My whole point of writing this is to ask for help. (Which isn't easy). I want ideas on how to get back into journaling. Prompts, quotes, encouraging pages whatever. I need community. I need you all.

The Magical and Dangerous World of Imagination and Fantasy

My dad could tell the best stories when he could be persuaded to tell them. Which wasn't often but was enough for us kids to be hanging on his every word as he wove an epic adventure about "little pea" and his family LONG before veggie tales ever existed. Most of us can say that we were told bedtime stories. Or read a book with our caregiver. A child's imagination is a wonderful and terrible thing. I won't get into a lot of psychological topics or make this really long. But I have something to say about the imainary worlds we create as a child and later as an adult.
In my family of six, I am the third child. We were poor. Everything I owned had been passed to me from my sisters or cousins. I was thrilled when I got new clothes for Christmas because they were all my own. From the outside it looked like I had everything provided for me. Food. Clothing. Toys. But one thing was missing. Unconditional love. I could never do the right thing the right way. I wasn't a boy. I was just the baby sister. On and on went the negativity. I've briefly talked about it before but I was sexually abused as a child. Well, I learned pretty fast that I could escape into a world of my choosing anytime I wanted. At first it was just play. Make believe. And I knew reality from fantasy. But as I kept going further and further into daydreaming, I'd end up dissociating, or losing sense of reality. I don't always remember my childhood. Some good things but mostly the bad. Mostly the longing I had to please my parents. The disappointment when I failed. The stories I told myself. For a time I even convinced myself that I was adopted and my real family was out there waiting for me. I tried to run away a few times. But there was always this thrill of a new story, a new realm to explore. I missed out on a lot because I was present in body but my mind was elsewhere.
I get it. I understand the need to feel in control and safe. But there is an invisible line that I crossed as a child and to this day I struggle with dissociation and wanting to daydream my life away. Thats what happens. Our time is spent in daydreaming or playing fantasy games so much so that the line between reality and fantasy no longer exists. It's dangerous. It is robbing children and adults of precious time when they could be out there living! But there's that pull towards that perfect fantasy.
Depressing isn't it? I don't have the answers for this one topic. But I know that in living a fantasy I'm wasting away my life. And I dont want to anymore.

#tip Grounding. Use grounding techniques like using 5 senses, Observing your surroundings, talking to a friend or relative to keep your mind grounded in reality.

Keeping It Real

In fear of being redundant or overly tragic, I don’t always share about the specifics of my daily dealings with mental illness. I am afraid that people would either get tired of hearing me talk about it or shun me for speaking out about a “silent illness” that is sorely misunderstood. I am afraid that if I shared what I really think and feel, I would simply be told that I am being melodramatic. 

But…

The TRUTH is that the struggles I face daily are just as important and valid as the next person’s struggles.

The REALITY is that I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder (aka Emotion Regulation Disorder), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Unspecified Dissociative Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The TRUTH is that these are just labels that explain my thoughts, emotions and behaviors. They don’t tell me who I am, or at least I try to not let them define me…

It has taken me five years and many tears to come to accept that I cannot change my diagnosis. It is what it is. There are ways to cope with it, but not a single way to beat it, save dying and getting that new body and mind God promises. But that realization doesn’t change anything other than the way that I look at my day to day struggle.

One of the ways that people often describe mental illness is as if you are wearing a “happy faced” mask over your “sad faced” countenance. I like that description, not because it shows that people with mental illness are masking their symptoms; and I can relate, but that the MASK CAN BE TAKEN OFF!! That is the hope, that one day; there will be no mask and no sad face.

So, today I am taking my “mask” off and showing the world, my world and those who are in my circles, that I am not defeated. I am not destroyed. I may struggle every minute of every day and night, but in the end, I will rise up and will be made whole.

What does this mean at a practical level? I mean, words are good and all, but where does the rubber meet the road?

It means that I am going to be more open with sharing how I am really thinking and feeling.

It means that I am going to be more open to talking about my past and the reasons why I have these diagnoses. (so, if you have questions, ask away)

It means that I am going to share with others the tools I have learned to get me where I am today.

It means that I am no longer going to lay down one my bed in defeat; but am going to use every coping skill, distraction skill, truth statement in my arsenal to keep going.

It means a change of thought, an hourly choice to say, I AM OK.

And then I think about you, all you wonderful people who have been supportive of me, and have watched me thru the years, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. You have prayed for me, listened to me, laughed and cried with me. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. And I am forever in your debt. Thank you.

#TIP  When dealing with pesky thoughts, keep your mind occupied. Read a book. Reading is one way to actively involve both the mind and heart. Find something that you enjoy and can learn from, while getting pulled into the story.

REAL

Note: Picture taken from pexels...free stock images

I want what is real. I want what lasts. I don’t want to be distracted by things that don’t matter as much as eternity. I am jaded by this world and its shenanigans. I am numb to the pain around me; all I see is my tragedies. I can’t reach out to  help because I can’t even help myself, or so I tell myself. I am quiet when I want to scream. I live when I should die to self. I am so full of questions that I don’t know where to begin. That little bit of courage that I found is real. It calls me to open up and breathe in spite of the suffocation I am living. Where can I turn? Who do I call out to? A god who is blind, deaf, and dumb to the hard things of my life? I realize now that I made that god me. I fashioned its form out of my desperation and fear, hoping that it would mean I would belong to something, someone.  I feel as though I was cheated out of my life. I was told lies from birth and expected to just believe them. But I can’t anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and forget the hollowness in my eyes. I am the one caught between heaven and hell. Where do I go?

I am sitting here with my heart heavy and my eyes running with the unshed tears that I have held back so many times before. Nothing has changed. I still need a miracle. I still need peace. The lies surrounding me give me grief. They pester and bother me until I am back at the exact point I was a few minutes ago. I want what is real, not an illusion. Not smoke. I want something, someone who will be forever.  I want to wake up in the morning with a smile because I know I am loved. I want the beliefs that I believe to be true. IS there a God? Does He even CARE? And what does He want for my life? So many questions go unanswered. I sit here and wonder if I believe because I have encountered God or do I believe because I have just been taught that there is a God? DO I BELIEVE? DO I BELIEVE?

I realize that there are things in my life that cannot change unless He reaches out to me. What if He’s been standing with His arm outstretched and I have been knowingly blind? Do I get another chance? Can I change the way that my programed mind thinks? Can I take flight with my soul in His Truth?

I can’t see the sky right in this moment, but I imagine it to be blue and full of freedom. Jesus gives that freedom, some say. DO I BELIEVE? Oh how I want my eyes to be opened and my heart to receive the love that God professes. No strings attached, no manipulation, no holding back.  Love that covers every part of me until nothing of me remains. I want to die the death of self so that I can live the life of Him. But how? How do I let go of the past to embrace the future? Do I even need to let go? Do I really need to forget? I want to be able to remember without the onset of pain. I want to look back and say that I am stronger than back then. I want to be able to forgive in the blink of an eye. Will I ever learn?

I build an altar in my mind and lay it’s foundations with my sins and fears. I cement it together with the all of the tears that I have never cried and those that have been shed in desperation. I take my hopes and dreams and write them down placing the paper on top of the structure. I then take the final piece, my Self, the very essence of who I am and hold it out.  It is twisted and dark, crimson and broken.  It is sad and joy mixed with disappointment and pride and hope. I place my Self up on the top of the altar where it can be seen clearly as it is. Kneeling before the altar, my head falls down and I bow, broken. I stay there for minutes, hours, it doesn’t matter. My head says this is dumb, but my heart says it is worth it. There was nothing to see, nothing to hold onto, it is just me completely exposed. Completely humble. Completely desperate.

Then I felt it. A tiny breath of wind moves my hair as I knelt on the ground before the altar. I raise my head and see.  Light. The Light that blinds stretching from heaven, down onto my altar. I hold out my hand marveling at the purity of the Light. I pull my hand back and my hand still glows. Before I could say a word, let alone think, the burst of light explodes on the altar and burns brighter than a thousand suns. I cover my eyes in pain, but can’t help but keep looking at the Light. It beckons to me. It comforts me. I watch as my altar is consumed by the Light and then I feel it again, a swirling breeze that wraps its arms around me. I breathe in and feel Love envelope me. I am caught up in the whirlwind and am floating freely, unhindered, and untethered. Is this real? Is this truth? I don’t care anymore. All I want is to feel these feelings of wonder and hope. I want everything to pause while I bask in the Light and wind that surrounds me. I can’t think yet I am thinking clearer than ever before. I feel the pains still, but I see now that they serve a purpose to show me how to thrive. The wind sets me down gently and I look at where the altar stood. Nothing remained, not even ashes. The wind still swirls around me and I breathe deeply. There is the scent of joy and peace filling my nostrils. I feel the wind speak to me. It speaks of an everlasting covenant, I will never be alone anymore. It tells me that I am ok, that I am loved. I close my eyes and feel. Truly feel. The weight of the world is no longer there. The fear of inadequacy is no longer hanging on my back. Moving my arms and legs in a little dance I laugh out loud. The sound echoes deep inside of me. I cry. I cry in awe of this miracle that happened to me. Stepping into the Light, I feel the rays burning away the remains of my burdens. Insecurity, depression, perfectionism and doubt fall away into nothing. I look at my hands, they look the same, but my veins are golden. I look at the rest of me and see that the very core of who I am, my heart is pumping loudly, golden and bright. I have been completely transformed. I have been completely restored. The past no longer has a hold. The present no longer has me in fear’s grip. But the future, it looks like a tunnel with a Light at the end. Some people say that’s what death is like. Maybe so, but I want to live in this moment. I feel peace and kindness surround me, pulling me to the tunnel. I take one step then two, and then break into a run. I meet Jesus at the edge of the tunnel and He puts His arm around me just as I looked back. There is nothing there. Nothing to hold me back, nothing to tie me down. Jesus hugs me and looks into my eyes. I feel safe. I feel hope. I think of nothing but the present moment.  Jesus beckons me to step out of the tunnel. I knew what He wanted. I want the same thing. It is time for me to live life in the Light of His Love and Grace. It is time for me to go back to the world and bring others to the Light. I step out of the tunnel and into Life. I am now the Living Dead, for I died to my self and have been renewed. I have come thru the fire and have been filled with His Spirit. I have been made whole.

Positivity

NOTE: photo is taken from https://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/ocean-human-health.html

It's been a few days now since I have been released from the inpatient unit aka psych ward. I was there for 7 days. This was my 11th time of being hospitalized due to suicidal thoughts and depression. It was a time of intense personal reflection and a lot of boredom while I was there.  I'm getting frustrated that this keeps happening to me. I don't want to die but the thoughts of suicide overwhelm me. But this time I made it thru. I defeated the thoughts and am fighting for a better day.
I could go into detail about my depression and its effects on me. I could tell you the thoughts I've been struggling with. But I'm not going to.
It's time to stop letting words like "depression, suicide, dissociation" take center stage. I'm not saying it's bad to talk about them, just that it's time for them to take the back burner and let other words have power. Words like "hope, serenity, revovery".
How often do I pay attention to what I say?  What excuses do I make? I make a lot of excuses. But today is a new day and I am choosing the positive.
It doesn't mean that I won't have times where the depression and suicidal thoughts kick my butt. I'm taking it on day at a time. Which is all that is required of me.

Express yourself

There are many ways to express yourself. Most people can do this effortlessly. Some struggle. It doesn't matter as long as you find a way to express who you are and what you're about.

I've been thinking about how many people there are in this world that don't know how to express their emotions and thoughts. They are trapped. They feel alone and hopeless. There's nothing that is meaningful to live for. And even though I have created art for many many years, I can relate to those who don't know where to start. I want to show them how simple it is to express themselves. I want to show them that they can know who they are and love themselves just so.

Whether you cook or play sports, sing or act, do yoga or decorate, there are the same valuable principles in how to begin. I always ask myself three questions.

What can I do that I am good at?

I can't play piano or sing very well but I can write a story or poem. I can't play sports very well. (Too many times of being hit in the head with a basketball, volleyball etc) But I can paint. I was working for a college years ago and I had the privilege to mentor some young ladies. (That makes me old....I'm 32) I gave my students the challenge to create something that shows who they are. Any media. Anything really. Later that week a girl came to me in tears because she said she "wasn't creative". I just looked her in the eye and asked "what are you good at?" She thought about it and finally said that she was good at organizing. I asked her what she could do to show that. She came back that week when we all met together with the coolest excel spreadsheet ever that was for  her budget. She found something she was good at and could express herself.

The second question is "what am I passionate about?"
This has been echoing in my brain for many years before I came to accept the answer. I have always struggled with mental illness so when I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (Aka Emotion regulation disorder) and depression I was both surprised and not surprised. I always knew that I had problems. Putting a name to them made it reality. Since then I've added other diagnoses to that list but there is one thing that has stuck with me. If I am suffering in this way, there have to be others that are too. And then how can I help them? Advocacy.  Standing up for and educating people about mental illness is something I've become passionate about. I want to show people that even if you have a mental illness, you can contribute to society and life. In this journey of recovery, I have met some of the most awesome people who have had a lot more problems than I. It's important to care for your fellow human.

Which brings me to the third question...
"What can I do with my talents and passions?
It has taken me some years to figure out the answers to these questions. I had moments of self doubt and fear. I had moments of excitement and hope. And they all contribute to who I am today.
I discovered that my love of art could be combined with my advocacy of mental illness recovery by creating pieces of memorable art that depict aspects of those things. I can use my creativity through my writing and hopefully inspire even just one person.
I didn't always share my mental illness art but lately I have been sharing more and more. I think that our society is tired of hiding mental health problems rather than facing them. I know that's how I feel.

There's no limit to what you can do if you put your heart and soul into it.

So what are your answers to these questions? Think about it. You might surprise yourself.

I've attached two pages in my art journal. The first saying "embrace imperfection". This speaks to me about accepting mistakes and seeing how they cane be used for good.

The second one is about my garden of life. What do I have growing in my life? I hope it's good.

Don't forget that you are important and you are loved. It'll change your life.

Real

I want what is real. I want what lasts. I don’t want to be distracted by things that don’t matter as much as eternity. I am jaded by this world and its shenanigans. I am numb to the pain around me; all I see is my tragedies. I can’t reach out to  help because I can’t even help myself, or so I tell myself. I am quiet when I want to scream. I live when I should die to self. I am so full of questions that I don’t know where to begin. That little bit of courage that I found is real. It calls me to open up and breathe in spite of the suffocation I am living. Where can I turn? Who do I call out to? A god who is blind, deaf, and dumb to the hard things of my life? I realize now that I made that god me. I fashioned its form out of my desperation and fear, hoping that it would mean I would belong to something, someone.  I feel as though I was cheated out of my life. I was told lies from birth and expected to just believe them. But I can’t anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and forget the hollowness in my eyes. I am the one caught between heaven and hell. Where do I go?

I am sitting here with my heart heavy and my eyes running with the unshed tears that I have held back so many times before. Nothing has changed. I still need a miracle. I still need peace. The lies surrounding me give me grief. They pester and bother me until I am back at the exact point I was a few minutes ago. I want what is real, not an illusion. Not smoke. I want something, someone who will be forever.  I want to wake up in the morning with a smile because I know I am loved. I want the beliefs that I believe to be true. IS there a God? Does He even CARE? And what does He want for my life? So many questions go unanswered. I sit here and wonder if I believe because I have encountered God or do I believe because I have just been taught that there is a God? DO I BELIEVE? DO I BELIEVE?

I realize that there are things in my life that cannot change unless He reaches out to me. What if He’s been standing with His arm outstretched and I have been knowingly blind? Do I get another chance? Can I change the way that my programed mind thinks? Can I take flight with my soul in His Truth?

I can’t see the sky right in this moment, but I imagine it to be blue and full of freedom. Jesus gives that freedom, some say. DO I BELIEVE? Oh how I want my eyes to be opened and my heart to receive the love that God professes. No strings attached, no manipulation, no holding back.  Love that covers every part of me until nothing of me remains. I want to die the death of self so that I can live the life of Him. But how? How do I let go of the past to embrace the future? Do I even need to let go? Do I really need to forget? I want to be able to remember without the onset of pain. I want to look back and say that I am stronger than back then. I want to be able to forgive in the blink of an eye. Will I ever learn?

I build an altar in my mind and lay it’s foundations with my sins and fears. I cement it together with the all of the tears that I have never cried and those that have been shed in desperation. I take my hopes and dreams and write them down placing the paper on top of the structure. I then take the final piece, my Self, the very essence of who I am and hold it out.  It is twisted and dark, crimson and broken.  It is sad and joy mixed with disappointment and pride and hope. I place my Self up on the top of the altar where it can be seen clearly as it is. Kneeling before the altar, my head falls down and I bow, broken. I stay there for minutes, hours, it doesn’t matter. My head says this is dumb, but my heart says it is worth it. There was nothing to see, nothing to hold onto, it is just me completely exposed. Completely humble. Completely desperate.

Then I felt it. A tiny breath of wind moves my hair as I knelt on the ground before the altar. I raise my head and see.  Light. The Light that blinds stretching from heaven, down onto my altar. I hold out my hand marveling at the purity of the Light. I pull my hand back and my hand still glows. Before I could say a word, let alone think, the burst of light explodes on the altar and burns brighter than a thousand suns. I cover my eyes in pain, but can’t help but keep looking at the Light. It beckons to me. It comforts me. I watch as my altar is consumed by the Light and then I feel it again, a swirling breeze that wraps its arms around me. I breathe in and feel Love envelope me. I am caught up in the whirlwind and am floating freely, unhindered, and untethered. Is this real? Is this truth? I don’t care anymore. All I want is to feel these feelings of wonder and hope. I want everything to pause while I bask in the Light and wind that surrounds me. I can’t think yet I am thinking clearer than ever before. I feel the pains still, but I see now that they serve a purpose to show me how to thrive. The wind sets me down gently and I look at where the altar stood. Nothing remained, not even ashes. The wind still swirls around me and I breathe deeply. There is the scent of joy and peace filling my nostrils. I feel the wind speak to me. It speaks of an everlasting covenant, I will never be alone anymore. It tells me that I am ok, that I am loved. I close my eyes and feel. Truly feel. The weight of the world is no longer there. The fear of inadequacy is no longer hanging on my back. Moving my arms and legs in a little dance I laugh out loud. The sound echoes deep inside of me. I cry. I cry in awe of this miracle that happened to me. Stepping into the Light, I feel the rays burning away the remains of my burdens. Insecurity, depression, perfectionism and doubt fall away into nothing. I look at my hands, they look the same, but my veins are golden. I look at the rest of me and see that the very core of who I am, my heart is pumping loudly, golden and bright. I have been completely transformed. I have been completely restored. The past no longer has a hold. The present no longer has me in fear’s grip. But the future, it looks like a tunnel with a Light at the end. Some people say that’s what death is like. Maybe so, but I want to live in this moment. I feel peace and kindness surround me, pulling me to the tunnel. I take one step then two, and then break into a run. I meet Jesus at the edge of the tunnel and He puts His arm around me just as I looked back. There is nothing there. Nothing to hold me back, nothing to tie me down. Jesus hugs me and looks into my eyes. I feel safe. I feel hope. I think of nothing but the present moment.  Jesus beckons me to step out of the tunnel. I knew what He wanted. I want the same thing. It is time for me to live life in the Light of His Love and Grace. It is time for me to go back to the world and bring others to the Light. I step out of the tunnel and into Life. I am now the Living Dead, for I died to my self and have been renewed. I have come thru the fire and have been filled with His Spirit. I have been made whole.

Crossroads

I've been sitting here list'ning to the rythem
And flow of the traffic at the crossroads
Been waitin' for my turn to make a decision
Which way am I goin'? Where do I turn?
Or should I keep goin' on this journey?
To get to you
To get to you
To get to you.....
To get to you

I've watched the cars passing as I sat contemplating. 
Memories of our time together flow like the tides of the ocean
I'm too far in this journey to be forgetting, its upsetting

But I know....
I've got to get to you
Get to you
Get to you

The traffic is stopped up behind me
And I don't care

My hearts racing wild with fear
So I put my foot to the pedal,
My eyes are straight ahead
And I turn, turn, turn,
And run away from you
Away from you, away from you
I run away from you.....

Time stops my heart for the seconds it takes to realize
That we might have had a chance but you'd forgotten me
Now I'm on my way
To find the rainbow
Away from you, away from you
And I can't stay to wait for you, wait for you

You broke my heart before we even began. And I loved you so much I didn't care.
But now as I hold the broken peices,
I'm not whole, I'm not free, but I've got to be. I've got to be.
Now its your turn to cry and regret me
But I don't care
And its your turn to be lonely
And I don't care

Now I'm leaving on this journey
To find myself, where I've always been.
Right here. Right here. On this road to my future.
My tail light reflect on the memories of our past. And I'm not gonna look back anymore.
I know you'll be ok when you realize I'm gone
And we'll be stronger apart from each other
So don't give up on this life
Don't despair that all is lost
We'll make it thru
Make it thru make it thru
I wish you happiness
I wish you peace
I wish yoy joy and all that encompasses the path beneath your feet
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
This journey never ends

Home

Home was in his arms
Home was taking care of mom
Home was tucking my nephew into bed
Home was watching TV with my sister
Home was fishing with dad
Home was cats
Home was tomato sandwiches
Home was watching the stars
Home was sugarland
Home was talking about books with aunt Mary
Home was hugs and forehead kisses
Home was sleeping in his bed while he slept on the couch
Home was sister days
Home was knowing they're proud of me
Home was my childhood
Home was tacos
Home was angel food cake
Home was laughter and tears
Home was Thanksgiving and christmas
Home was my brother
Home was grape soda
Home was day trips and history
Home was camping
Home was mom and dad fighting
Home was rock collecting
Home was swimming
Home was wildlife pets
Home was clean sheets and soft bedding
Home was getting up early to watch the sun rise
Home was Christmas morning anticipation
Home was new sleighs
Home was riding bikes
Home was getting new clothes
Home was college breaks
Home was books to read
Home was mom's plants.
Home was dad's mess
Home was niece and nephews
Home was family birthdays
Home was shared lives
Home was depending on one another
Home was weddings
Home was sewing
Home was climbing trees
Home was getting dirty outside
Home was homework and chores
Home was scary movies
Home was swimming
Home was holding his hand
Home was watching him sleep
Home was riding bikes
Home was snuggling with mom
Home was listening to coyotes
Home was campfires and marchmellows
How was playing dressup
Home was playing robocop
Home was tgif
Home was Dr. Quinn and star trek
Home was picking blackberries
Home was gardening
Home was rainy days and hot summer days
Home was writing poetry
Home was singing loudly to country music with him
Home was exploring and hiking
Home was long trips in the van
Home was playing Legos with my brother
Home was dad snoring
Home was learning to shoot a gun
Home was evergreen and carpet trampoline
Home was backuard golf cart racing
Home was thunderstorms
Home was reading rainbow
Home was sharing clothes with my sisters

Brokenness

Like Humpty Dumpty, I sat on a wall.
While in my grief, dire grief, I had a great fall.
Soon all the words of comfort from men
couldn't put me together again.
Only the One who has healing powers
could rain down on me His soothing showers.
This Son of God and this Son of Man
took my brokenness, just as I am.
Gathered me into His mighty embrace
and whispered His truth to me, face to face,
that in my brokenness, I may fall.
Yet, He will raise me back to the wall.
Humpty Dumpty may never be healed
but my name is forever sealed
upon the hands of the Son of Man;
because He has made me whole again.

I wrote this poem on a loose sheet of green paper back in May of '05. I dont remember what prompted me to write about Humpty Dumpty, but I do know that I was reading Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll at the time. Maybe I came across the part where Alice meets Humpty Dumpty and I was impressed upon to mention him in this poem.

Poem - Time

Slip away from the darkness
Step away from the pain
Whatever you do different,
don't do it the same
Because life is hard
and
Full of mistakes that grab your attention
No matter your apprehension

Time is not your own for the taking
Even as you are waking
From a slumber deep enough to hide the real you.

Just before the Storm

Bed time. It's such a fight sometimes to force myself to go to bed at a reasonable time. Either I want to go to bed way too early or I want to stay up too late. There's little middle ground. Then there's the fight of taking meds....
I am so tired of taking meds. I pop a handful every morning and every night and now I have a pill in the afternoon. Sigh. I guess this is what comes with living with mental illness. Or any illness really. The exhaustion. The pain. The constant feeling of helplessness. It gets old.
And as I write this, I struggle to find the positive. Where is God in all my chaos? Why did this happen to me? How will I live? What will I do?
I don't have the answers. I won't even try to answer the questions, but I have learned this:
God doesn't always answer in the storm when it is loud and raging. He often answers in the stillness before the storm. The breath of wind right before the clouds burst.
I don't have the answers. I won't even try to answer the questions, but I have learned this: God doesn't always answer in the storm when it is loud and raging. He often answers in the stillness before the storm. The breath of wind right before the clouds burst.
But I'm so focused on the coming storm that I don't hear His voice. It's easy to miss. He wants me to draw close to Him, to lean in and hear Him say, "it's going to be ok."
GOD HELP ME TO LISTEN TO YOUR STILL SMALL VOICE BEFORE THE STORM.

Small Destinies

"I just heard someone recently...we all get hung up on what am I supposed to be doing with my life? What's my destiny? What if we have a series of small destinies we never step into cuz we are too busy looking for the big thing. We weren't called to seek our destiny with everything we have. We were called to love. That is our greatest destiny."

Text message from AZ, my best friend.

This text really spoke to me on the issue of "what am I doing with my life?" and how do I figure out my destiny? I get so depressed and anxious when I think that I could be doing something great or important with my life but I'm not. But, who determines what is great and important? Why do I view my life as not important or worthwhile? Why must I do just one great thing? Thinking that there's only one thing I'm destined to do is very deceiving and disappointing. What if it's not something I like doing? It's easy to get caught up in the drama of "only one purpose" that we miss the little opportunities to work out our destiny.
It's like this. If you have one destiny, one purpose, and all your time an energy are spent on working those things out, what about the little things? Small destinies like saying hello to a stranger, hanging out with a friend in need, going on that trip you've always wanted to go on? The possibilities are endless if you think of your destiny being a bunch of little purposes and bundled destinies.