There's a page in your book that can only be written by me
the page where I talk about what it's like to be free
A page where you understand why I'm truly here
And that I never went away, I always stay so near
There's a book you can help me with that says all this truth is real
The space where you and I reside is based on how we feel
Gasoline and ice patches and meds that fogged my head
I don't care what that paper says, I didn't wish to be dead
My love has moved on without me and I'm proud she's loving again
My children play with me in dreams where the waking really begins
I will always guide and love them, they'll never be without me
The light and shadow veil are so thin, they almost see
Clovers, guitars and wedding rings, it's all just stuff to me
But I know these signs bring comfort to the ones who can't yet see
Love me, I love you, I am all around, I'm not above you
Trust me, we aren't broken
I hear your thoughts unspoken
Listen to what your heart hears
Let go of your imagined fears
Listen, please just listen, I have so much to say
I don't feel forgotten but misunderstood and far away
I'm not a real hero, I'm just real
I'm the sorrow you needed, but never wanted to feel
I'm the whisper you hear when you choose to understand
I'm the warmth next to you, holding your hand
Saturday, September 21, 2013
A Sixth Grade Girl
My older daughter starts sixth grade this year. As I'm filling out her paperwork, I keep thinking of when she started kindergarten. How she held my hand so tight as we rode the bus together, and smiled at me with her twinkly blue eyes sparkling. As I dropped her off for her "Student Only" orientation, she was nervous the whole ride there, and I reassured her by saying things like "Every sixth-grader there will be in the same boat as you- you all have something in common; you are ALL new at this!" and "Just be yourself and have fun. Because you are amazing, and your friends love you." As soon as we pulled up to the school, her friends are calling her name and waving excitedly. "Bye, Mom!" she says, and hops out of the car before I can mutter "Good luck, I love you!" This girl has got this.
As I drive away, my eyes fill with tears as I remember her first bus ride home from Kindergarten. She had fallen asleep, missed her stop and the bus driver took her along on her next route, not realizing my little Beana was curled up in a bus seat. I chased the bus across town in a panic, so sure that she would be terrified, traumatized, I was so worried about her. She was bouncing in the bus driver's lap when I got there, jumped into my arms and said, "I was so tired from all the fun I had at school!" This girl has got this.
I think about all the times my baby girl has reminded me of myself, sometimes to the point of exasperation. Hug me, but only when I want you to. Hold my hand, but only if I grab yours first. Kind of like a cat, affectionate on her own terms, but you'd better not miss the opportunities to hug her up when she wants them. She is her own person and makes that known to all of us. I accidentally smoothed her hair as she sat in front of me at 6th Grade Homeroom Orientation, and she whipped around and gave me a glare. Sorry, baby girl, I forgot, your friends are watching, and you're all grown-up now.
As we stand by her locker, and she gets her combination lock on the first try, I blink back tears. She's got this. I'm doing right by her. She doesn't need me every step of the way. She knows she can figure it out and make things work the way she wants them to. Fiercely independent, sensitive, quick-tempered, quicker to laugh...and so affectionate and talkative. Yep, that's my girl, and yet, she's not mine. I'm only blessed to be her mother. She is her own growing woman, and of that, I am so proud.
As we walk away from the seemingly huge middle school she'll be attending in a few days, she wraps her strong little arms around my waist and says, "I love you lida meme. Thanks for helping me today." I hug her back and say, "I didn't do anything but watch you do it. You got this, baby girl. Thanks for letting me come along."
As I drive away, my eyes fill with tears as I remember her first bus ride home from Kindergarten. She had fallen asleep, missed her stop and the bus driver took her along on her next route, not realizing my little Beana was curled up in a bus seat. I chased the bus across town in a panic, so sure that she would be terrified, traumatized, I was so worried about her. She was bouncing in the bus driver's lap when I got there, jumped into my arms and said, "I was so tired from all the fun I had at school!" This girl has got this.
I think about all the times my baby girl has reminded me of myself, sometimes to the point of exasperation. Hug me, but only when I want you to. Hold my hand, but only if I grab yours first. Kind of like a cat, affectionate on her own terms, but you'd better not miss the opportunities to hug her up when she wants them. She is her own person and makes that known to all of us. I accidentally smoothed her hair as she sat in front of me at 6th Grade Homeroom Orientation, and she whipped around and gave me a glare. Sorry, baby girl, I forgot, your friends are watching, and you're all grown-up now.
As we stand by her locker, and she gets her combination lock on the first try, I blink back tears. She's got this. I'm doing right by her. She doesn't need me every step of the way. She knows she can figure it out and make things work the way she wants them to. Fiercely independent, sensitive, quick-tempered, quicker to laugh...and so affectionate and talkative. Yep, that's my girl, and yet, she's not mine. I'm only blessed to be her mother. She is her own growing woman, and of that, I am so proud.
As we walk away from the seemingly huge middle school she'll be attending in a few days, she wraps her strong little arms around my waist and says, "I love you lida meme. Thanks for helping me today." I hug her back and say, "I didn't do anything but watch you do it. You got this, baby girl. Thanks for letting me come along."
Friday, June 28, 2013
Happy Birthday, Brother
Today, you would have turned 34. Your son says he's going to crack you a home run in his baseball game today, just for you. I know you'll see it. I know you;re with him at every at-bat, every pitch. Tonight, we will write messages on balloons and send them to the angels, hoping they get to you. My heart is so full today, of love, of your smile, of a few tears, as I think of The Big Picture. I sense how proud of us you are, for going on living, for finding joy in the most unexpected and amazing ways. I am so thankful and in awe of the signs you continue to send us. The kids found 4 more four-leaf clovers this last week. We have found dozens now, always when we need guidance, or on someone's birthday or milestone, you send us more luck, more love, more evidence that you're not so far away after all.
I can see now how so many tiny pieces of this puzzle have all fit together to bring us to where we are today. They didn't make sense at the time, and they don't always now and they won't always in the future, but I can trust that it all makes sense, that our physical selves are incapable of grasping the clockwork of life and how each event takes place to create space for the next. I am filled with wonderment and love as I think of all of the people you have brought into our lives with your passing. People who have made us laugh when we never thought we'd laugh again, people who have also been touched by similar sadness and we've found strength in each other's stories and proof that all things happen for a reason, people who are many shades of you, Brother, and that makes the missing you a little easier sometimes. I am so grateful for this beautiful, difficult ang incredible LIFE.
You have been visiting us in dreams, always telling us things, explaining things we can't quite remember in waking, but we love that we've gotten to see your face, hear your voice, and we know that your words are in our hearts, even if our conscious minds hide it from us. Thank you for that, it is so comforting to see you in dreaming. I write each one down as best as I can remember it, and I love going back and reading about them and reading them to the kids. One day, the kids will have these books, they will know our family history, and they will be able to share these stories with their kids, their grandkids, and I hope it goes on and on.
So, even though I have tears today, they are less of sadness, and more of love and appreciation for you, Bri, for the lessons you've taught us about life, about being imperfect and human and still amazing and precious, about family, about overcoming obstacles and pressing on even when we feel our last drop of resolve is used up. I am thankful that I feel your presence today, I feel your love in my heart and know that you will be with us today, and you always are when our family is together. I love you so much. I miss you most when the kids are blowing out birthday candles or playing sports, because you were always right there. I miss you when I'm having trouble understanding a struggle one of the kids is having, because you always offered a new perspective and helped me to understand their hearts. You had a way of seeing into human nature with such compassion, you helped me learn to do the same. I try my best every day to live in a way that makes you proud of me, and I hope you are. I will try hard to feel less sadness and lacking, and more appreciation and understanding, because I know you're really not as far away as most people think. You are in every sunrise, every raindrop, every burst of fireworks and every time the kids laugh, I hear you. Thank you for blessing us with your life, and strengthening us through your passing.
Love to you each day, always,
Your Big Sis
I can see now how so many tiny pieces of this puzzle have all fit together to bring us to where we are today. They didn't make sense at the time, and they don't always now and they won't always in the future, but I can trust that it all makes sense, that our physical selves are incapable of grasping the clockwork of life and how each event takes place to create space for the next. I am filled with wonderment and love as I think of all of the people you have brought into our lives with your passing. People who have made us laugh when we never thought we'd laugh again, people who have also been touched by similar sadness and we've found strength in each other's stories and proof that all things happen for a reason, people who are many shades of you, Brother, and that makes the missing you a little easier sometimes. I am so grateful for this beautiful, difficult ang incredible LIFE.
You have been visiting us in dreams, always telling us things, explaining things we can't quite remember in waking, but we love that we've gotten to see your face, hear your voice, and we know that your words are in our hearts, even if our conscious minds hide it from us. Thank you for that, it is so comforting to see you in dreaming. I write each one down as best as I can remember it, and I love going back and reading about them and reading them to the kids. One day, the kids will have these books, they will know our family history, and they will be able to share these stories with their kids, their grandkids, and I hope it goes on and on.
So, even though I have tears today, they are less of sadness, and more of love and appreciation for you, Bri, for the lessons you've taught us about life, about being imperfect and human and still amazing and precious, about family, about overcoming obstacles and pressing on even when we feel our last drop of resolve is used up. I am thankful that I feel your presence today, I feel your love in my heart and know that you will be with us today, and you always are when our family is together. I love you so much. I miss you most when the kids are blowing out birthday candles or playing sports, because you were always right there. I miss you when I'm having trouble understanding a struggle one of the kids is having, because you always offered a new perspective and helped me to understand their hearts. You had a way of seeing into human nature with such compassion, you helped me learn to do the same. I try my best every day to live in a way that makes you proud of me, and I hope you are. I will try hard to feel less sadness and lacking, and more appreciation and understanding, because I know you're really not as far away as most people think. You are in every sunrise, every raindrop, every burst of fireworks and every time the kids laugh, I hear you. Thank you for blessing us with your life, and strengthening us through your passing.
Love to you each day, always,
Your Big Sis
Coming Into The Light
I have survived the worst of broken hearts. I have lived through horrific pain and death. I have healed when everyone told me I would never be the same again: they were right, I am not the same. I am stronger, I am more compassionate, I have more purpose and presence and love. My body is not broken, although it's still far from whole. I see now how my broken heart blocked my path to healing even more than my broken back, my prosthetic hip, my broken arms...these things all healed; not the same, some will always cause me pain. But what nearly killed me, what nearly took me from my children, it wasn't the morning of my car crash when I lay, bleeding out in a busted up van in a ditch. It wasn't in the months that stretched into the five years after my accident. It was my broken heart. I didn't know who I was or what my purpose was if I couldn't be a nurse. It was a dream I had chased for so many years, an identity I had fit snugly around me like my favorite sweater, protecting me from the cold...and I was so exposed, so raw to the elements and naked without it. I tried to keep up the facade of cheerfulness, of hope and joy, when inside, I felt so empty and lost. This depression was so complicated, it touched every single facet of my life, tinged it with worthlessness and seeped the color out of my days, coloring them black like the nights that went on forever. I fought to ignore the voice in my head that told me I wasn't worth loving, that my children were better off without me, that I was never going to live a day without pain.
I sat in a courtroom one day where I told the social security judge why the doctors and I had decided I couldn't work anymore. I sobbed to the point I could barely speak. It literally destroyed me to admit publicly that I had given up on my dream. I had never failed so miserably at anything in my life, unless you count my two marriages, but I had help destroying those. I had never failed at anything I had tried so hard to achieve, and I didn't know what to do with that type of pain.
I had to face the anger I felt for the drunk driver who hit me. I had been so afraid of how huge and powerful that anger was, I tried to completely deny that there was any anger at all for him. I felt it was wrong of me to harbor anger for someone who had not set out to hurt me, but that anger was churning somewhere deep inside where I had locked the door and never wanted to go back. But the truth was, until I was ready to face that anger, until I was ready to really sit with it and rage with it, howl like a damned banshee and cry the ugliest, most gut-wrenching sobs I've ever heard emanate from a human being, I knew I would not heal. So I began to pray for him, to feel compassion for him, to understand that I was the lucky one, because I lived in an ever-widening circle of love and support, and I embraced that. He could not. Not through the haze of addiction. I hope he heals. We all deserve love.
It took me over seven years to work through that anger. I still have my days when I have to cry, and I let the tears come because I know they cleanse the hurts. I don't hide from the daily pain with medications, I don't self-medicate with alcohol or drugs of any kind; I medicate with love. I fill the spaces where pain lives, fill them up with love and I listen to my body when it whispers, "Love, you need to rest. Put down the laundry, you've done enough today." "Love, our bones feel 100 years old today. Be kind to us." Some days it's a whisper, some days it screams in my face "DON'T DO THAT, OWWWW!!!" But I always listen now. I'm done fighting against what I can't change; that robs me of my peace. I'm done listening to the cruel voice in my head that doubts, undermines my joy. I'm putting down the sword, and picking up my spade. My life began a miracle, and it will end a miracle. I will grow my garden, I will feed my family, I will heal with my herbs and nutrition, and I will live a full life. I will not feel cheated. I will not feel unloved. Love begins with me, and I choose to live in love each day.
I sat in a courtroom one day where I told the social security judge why the doctors and I had decided I couldn't work anymore. I sobbed to the point I could barely speak. It literally destroyed me to admit publicly that I had given up on my dream. I had never failed so miserably at anything in my life, unless you count my two marriages, but I had help destroying those. I had never failed at anything I had tried so hard to achieve, and I didn't know what to do with that type of pain.
I had to face the anger I felt for the drunk driver who hit me. I had been so afraid of how huge and powerful that anger was, I tried to completely deny that there was any anger at all for him. I felt it was wrong of me to harbor anger for someone who had not set out to hurt me, but that anger was churning somewhere deep inside where I had locked the door and never wanted to go back. But the truth was, until I was ready to face that anger, until I was ready to really sit with it and rage with it, howl like a damned banshee and cry the ugliest, most gut-wrenching sobs I've ever heard emanate from a human being, I knew I would not heal. So I began to pray for him, to feel compassion for him, to understand that I was the lucky one, because I lived in an ever-widening circle of love and support, and I embraced that. He could not. Not through the haze of addiction. I hope he heals. We all deserve love.
It took me over seven years to work through that anger. I still have my days when I have to cry, and I let the tears come because I know they cleanse the hurts. I don't hide from the daily pain with medications, I don't self-medicate with alcohol or drugs of any kind; I medicate with love. I fill the spaces where pain lives, fill them up with love and I listen to my body when it whispers, "Love, you need to rest. Put down the laundry, you've done enough today." "Love, our bones feel 100 years old today. Be kind to us." Some days it's a whisper, some days it screams in my face "DON'T DO THAT, OWWWW!!!" But I always listen now. I'm done fighting against what I can't change; that robs me of my peace. I'm done listening to the cruel voice in my head that doubts, undermines my joy. I'm putting down the sword, and picking up my spade. My life began a miracle, and it will end a miracle. I will grow my garden, I will feed my family, I will heal with my herbs and nutrition, and I will live a full life. I will not feel cheated. I will not feel unloved. Love begins with me, and I choose to live in love each day.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Another Letter to My Brother
Dear Brian,
Today, your baby girls are six years old! I cannot believe how they have grown. Six years ago, I stayed overnight at Kristi's, got up at 6am with her and a bunch of beautiful people who love us, and we went to the hospital to finally meet those precious girls that Kristi miraculously carried to term. She has greater strength than she knows! I remember that morning, Kristi said, "These babies were going to be born today, whether the doctor decided or not!" She knew it was time.
As I sit here looking through pictures of your beautiful twin girls, I imagine how you would be with them. In my mind, I see you hold them in your arms, bounce them in your lap, cuddle and goof with them and love them...just like Corey does now. He has since they were tiny, and Aidyn too. He is so good to them...I know you know that, because you wouldn't have anyone less than wonderful for your kids, or as a husband for Kristi. I see how you and God work through him and I am amazed.
And don't worry- I know you hold them in their dreams, I know you held them before they were born, when they were still in Heaven with you. I know you watch over them and their big brother, all of us, and I am so thankful for that. I know I've been dreaming about you, and I need to try harder to remember what you tell me in my dreams, because I have a feeling it's something you want me to give the girls for their birthdays. Help me remember!!
I will never forget the day those girls were born. I am a very lucky auntie, to have been present at the births of each of my nieces and nephews. Thank you for that. I remember the first time I held them, Your spirit is so strong in each of these beautiful babies...it is overwhelming. I remember that it took months before I could look into those tiny, perfect faces without having to swallow the huge lump in my throat. But concentrating on Aidyn and these two little miracles, they took some of the ache out of our hearts when we were missing you so bad. Each year that goes by, I remember the year before, and see how far we've all come. The hurt and the empty space are filled now with happy memories of your children as they grow, all of us with your blood in our veins and all of those who've come into our lives because of you, we are so grateful. You have taught us all so much about love, family, and never giving up. I bet you are surprised at how far we've come! (so are we!) Somehow, I know and trust that this all makes sense. I've let go of the need to know why, I've let go of the feeling of lacking (for the most part) the place in my heart that was always filled by my brother, is STILL filled by you, you are with us every day. We just see you differently now...like I said, it takes our earthly eyes a long time to adjust, but we're coming around.
Happy Birthday, Elliana and Ava!!! You are amazing, and your dad is so proud of you! We ALL are!
How blessed could we be as you enter this world
Babies A and B, Doctor said, two perfect little girls
As you opened your eyes and stared into mine
I saw Heaven, your Daddy, everywhere the signs
The birth room attendant wore a tag with Daddy's name
He might have been Brian but his face wasn't the same
Mommy and I knew it was Daddy's way to let us know
He wouldn't miss this for anything, we knew he'd show!
I remember the song on the radio as we cried
The Riddle, "There's a Reason for the World; You and I"
It was playing so softly, some words were unclear
Your first lullaby from Daddy, who couldn't be here.
You saw him long before you learned he was gone
As you played in your cribs, and sang daddy songs
"Daddy" was your first word! How could that be?
Because you'd already known him, his angel, you see.
His love surrounds you, and it always will
He loved you in Heaven, and he loves you still.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BtqElO1OX4
Today, your baby girls are six years old! I cannot believe how they have grown. Six years ago, I stayed overnight at Kristi's, got up at 6am with her and a bunch of beautiful people who love us, and we went to the hospital to finally meet those precious girls that Kristi miraculously carried to term. She has greater strength than she knows! I remember that morning, Kristi said, "These babies were going to be born today, whether the doctor decided or not!" She knew it was time.
As I sit here looking through pictures of your beautiful twin girls, I imagine how you would be with them. In my mind, I see you hold them in your arms, bounce them in your lap, cuddle and goof with them and love them...just like Corey does now. He has since they were tiny, and Aidyn too. He is so good to them...I know you know that, because you wouldn't have anyone less than wonderful for your kids, or as a husband for Kristi. I see how you and God work through him and I am amazed.
And don't worry- I know you hold them in their dreams, I know you held them before they were born, when they were still in Heaven with you. I know you watch over them and their big brother, all of us, and I am so thankful for that. I know I've been dreaming about you, and I need to try harder to remember what you tell me in my dreams, because I have a feeling it's something you want me to give the girls for their birthdays. Help me remember!!
I will never forget the day those girls were born. I am a very lucky auntie, to have been present at the births of each of my nieces and nephews. Thank you for that. I remember the first time I held them, Your spirit is so strong in each of these beautiful babies...it is overwhelming. I remember that it took months before I could look into those tiny, perfect faces without having to swallow the huge lump in my throat. But concentrating on Aidyn and these two little miracles, they took some of the ache out of our hearts when we were missing you so bad. Each year that goes by, I remember the year before, and see how far we've all come. The hurt and the empty space are filled now with happy memories of your children as they grow, all of us with your blood in our veins and all of those who've come into our lives because of you, we are so grateful. You have taught us all so much about love, family, and never giving up. I bet you are surprised at how far we've come! (so are we!) Somehow, I know and trust that this all makes sense. I've let go of the need to know why, I've let go of the feeling of lacking (for the most part) the place in my heart that was always filled by my brother, is STILL filled by you, you are with us every day. We just see you differently now...like I said, it takes our earthly eyes a long time to adjust, but we're coming around.
Happy Birthday, Elliana and Ava!!! You are amazing, and your dad is so proud of you! We ALL are!
How blessed could we be as you enter this world
Babies A and B, Doctor said, two perfect little girls
As you opened your eyes and stared into mine
I saw Heaven, your Daddy, everywhere the signs
The birth room attendant wore a tag with Daddy's name
He might have been Brian but his face wasn't the same
Mommy and I knew it was Daddy's way to let us know
He wouldn't miss this for anything, we knew he'd show!
I remember the song on the radio as we cried
The Riddle, "There's a Reason for the World; You and I"
It was playing so softly, some words were unclear
Your first lullaby from Daddy, who couldn't be here.
You saw him long before you learned he was gone
As you played in your cribs, and sang daddy songs
"Daddy" was your first word! How could that be?
Because you'd already known him, his angel, you see.
His love surrounds you, and it always will
He loved you in Heaven, and he loves you still.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BtqElO1OX4
Saturday, April 13, 2013
1/16/13
Almost a year exactly since I've written here. Today, it's been six years since my beautiful brother passed. I wonder if he's proud of us all, if he feels his passing was not in vain if we've all learned and grown so much? We'd all trade the knowledge in a heartbeat if we could have him here with us, but we've all accepted that life doesn't always bring us fairness, what it brings is experience. We don't always understand, but we live on.
I haven't been writing here as much recently. I feel that even though my words are my own, and I should have free will to say what I want, I don't. I am fearful of people taking my words and twisting them into less than the pure intention with which they were written. I am fearful of people taking what I say, and judging me, lessening the beauty of my life experiences, the loving intent I have for each being that reads this or comes into my life. I realize that it truly does not matter if I gain the approval of any other human being; I have my own. I don't need to explain every single thought and emotion I have. Validity is not something I seek anymore; I want to share my experiences with others so that they might find their own validity in their own experiences. Life happens to each of us. How we deal with the situations in life is something that defines us, breaks us, reshapes us, bends us again, sometimes until we break. I have been so near the breaking point these last few years...not everyday, not even weekly or monthly or on any set time frame. But the beauty, vibrance and sheer wonder that I have experienced each day of this life, they are each a brighter and more brilliant fiber woven deeply into my life's tapestry. I feel so fragile because I'm allowing myself to FEEL. No more walls. I have no time for them.
Here are some realizations I've made this year:
When we grow so accustomed to hurting, we shut out love. Love becomes an unnatural, unwanted emotion, we feel numb where we used to bubble over with love. Passion for life, for work, it all becomes gray. You wait for the color to return to these things and it just doesn't come. The only thing that feels real or genuine to me is the love for my children. I can feel that; it is real. Their lives, their daily joys, these are the beautiful spots of my life now. I don't feel that what I do, beyond loving and raising my kids, has any value or meaning. I wax and wane in the degree of my conviction in this, but the conclusion is always the same. I feel I am constantly waiting. Waiting for pain to end, waiting for a moment of relief in my day. Waiting to discover what it is that will finally make me "snap out of it." Is this true reality? Have I seen the puppet strings to such an extent that I have even lost hope in hope?? These pages used to be so cleansing, so uplifting, if I didn't quite believe the words I was writing, I took consolation in knowing that, if I read them again tomorrow, I probably would. Now there is only observation. No strong convictions, no major remorse or sadness or anger or happiness or...anything. One thing is for sure...I used to be angry at God for allowing my family to suffer, for allowing me to suffer. I hate the saying "God only gives you what you can handle" Such bullshit. A loving God does not want his children to suffer. God gives us free will, and as shitty humans, our will can affect one another in the most horrible ways at times. I can no longer be angry about that, anger is crippling, and I am damn tired of limping.
I know, I've seen many miracles and coincidences and I should remember those, and I do! These are the things that give us hope and keep us going. But that is LIFE. That is CHANCE. That is FATE. And mine has been cruel, as much as it has been beautiful. Hope has run out. It is hard to draw inspiration from a void. I am the only person who can fill that void. Me. I can't stop loving life because I'm afraid of being hurt again. That is no life.
I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I just feel so goddamn miserable all of the time, I can't get out from under this cloud, no matter what I do. I wish I could find my joy again. I am afraid to put much effort or emotion into anything. Not including my children because they are not things, they are precious beings that deserve and receive ALL of my best, my love, nurturing and guidance and I will always do my best to help them grow into healthy, loving and productive adults. I smile, I laugh, I hug them and teach them and grow with them every minute that I can. But I have nothing else, because I have had too much taken from me to feel secure enough to open those wounds to hope again. Here's to 50 or 60 years more! I hope soon I can find a way and a drive to make my life more satisfying again. I'm sure I will, I just wish I knew when.
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I wrote this 3 months ago, but I didn't publish it because it is so sad and raw, and it's difficult for me to put these slivers of myself out there...and since then, I have woken up. Let's call it another "bouncing point." I think we all have them throughout our lives. I've decide to stop being controlled by pain, to stop hating how I hurt and start loving that I'm alive. I'm in charge, but releasing control. We are not in control of anything but ourselves. I changed EVERYTHING by changing my mindset and practicing what I've been preaching for a long time. I stopped beating myself up in my head every day, and started listening to the loving thoughts. (they were always there, just so damn quiet compared to my sadness) I look myself in the eye every day and say, "You will NOT give up today, dammit." I'm too stubborn to be beaten, I have too much to offer this world, and I won't give up. DON'T GIVE UP!!!! The fact that we wake up each morning is proof of our purpose.
I haven't been writing here as much recently. I feel that even though my words are my own, and I should have free will to say what I want, I don't. I am fearful of people taking my words and twisting them into less than the pure intention with which they were written. I am fearful of people taking what I say, and judging me, lessening the beauty of my life experiences, the loving intent I have for each being that reads this or comes into my life. I realize that it truly does not matter if I gain the approval of any other human being; I have my own. I don't need to explain every single thought and emotion I have. Validity is not something I seek anymore; I want to share my experiences with others so that they might find their own validity in their own experiences. Life happens to each of us. How we deal with the situations in life is something that defines us, breaks us, reshapes us, bends us again, sometimes until we break. I have been so near the breaking point these last few years...not everyday, not even weekly or monthly or on any set time frame. But the beauty, vibrance and sheer wonder that I have experienced each day of this life, they are each a brighter and more brilliant fiber woven deeply into my life's tapestry. I feel so fragile because I'm allowing myself to FEEL. No more walls. I have no time for them.
Here are some realizations I've made this year:
When we grow so accustomed to hurting, we shut out love. Love becomes an unnatural, unwanted emotion, we feel numb where we used to bubble over with love. Passion for life, for work, it all becomes gray. You wait for the color to return to these things and it just doesn't come. The only thing that feels real or genuine to me is the love for my children. I can feel that; it is real. Their lives, their daily joys, these are the beautiful spots of my life now. I don't feel that what I do, beyond loving and raising my kids, has any value or meaning. I wax and wane in the degree of my conviction in this, but the conclusion is always the same. I feel I am constantly waiting. Waiting for pain to end, waiting for a moment of relief in my day. Waiting to discover what it is that will finally make me "snap out of it." Is this true reality? Have I seen the puppet strings to such an extent that I have even lost hope in hope?? These pages used to be so cleansing, so uplifting, if I didn't quite believe the words I was writing, I took consolation in knowing that, if I read them again tomorrow, I probably would. Now there is only observation. No strong convictions, no major remorse or sadness or anger or happiness or...anything. One thing is for sure...I used to be angry at God for allowing my family to suffer, for allowing me to suffer. I hate the saying "God only gives you what you can handle" Such bullshit. A loving God does not want his children to suffer. God gives us free will, and as shitty humans, our will can affect one another in the most horrible ways at times. I can no longer be angry about that, anger is crippling, and I am damn tired of limping.
I know, I've seen many miracles and coincidences and I should remember those, and I do! These are the things that give us hope and keep us going. But that is LIFE. That is CHANCE. That is FATE. And mine has been cruel, as much as it has been beautiful. Hope has run out. It is hard to draw inspiration from a void. I am the only person who can fill that void. Me. I can't stop loving life because I'm afraid of being hurt again. That is no life.
I know I have a lot to be thankful for. I just feel so goddamn miserable all of the time, I can't get out from under this cloud, no matter what I do. I wish I could find my joy again. I am afraid to put much effort or emotion into anything. Not including my children because they are not things, they are precious beings that deserve and receive ALL of my best, my love, nurturing and guidance and I will always do my best to help them grow into healthy, loving and productive adults. I smile, I laugh, I hug them and teach them and grow with them every minute that I can. But I have nothing else, because I have had too much taken from me to feel secure enough to open those wounds to hope again. Here's to 50 or 60 years more! I hope soon I can find a way and a drive to make my life more satisfying again. I'm sure I will, I just wish I knew when.
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I wrote this 3 months ago, but I didn't publish it because it is so sad and raw, and it's difficult for me to put these slivers of myself out there...and since then, I have woken up. Let's call it another "bouncing point." I think we all have them throughout our lives. I've decide to stop being controlled by pain, to stop hating how I hurt and start loving that I'm alive. I'm in charge, but releasing control. We are not in control of anything but ourselves. I changed EVERYTHING by changing my mindset and practicing what I've been preaching for a long time. I stopped beating myself up in my head every day, and started listening to the loving thoughts. (they were always there, just so damn quiet compared to my sadness) I look myself in the eye every day and say, "You will NOT give up today, dammit." I'm too stubborn to be beaten, I have too much to offer this world, and I won't give up. DON'T GIVE UP!!!! The fact that we wake up each morning is proof of our purpose.
Hope
I realize that, for the last few years, I have lost hope in feeling better. I have gotten so depressed, every day has felt like a shadow, and although I put on a brave smile for my family, inside I was always crying. I felt like I had let a huge part of myself die. I let the things that I'd lost become a void inside of me, and that void, the void of things that no longer were, I let it be bigger than the blessings that surround me every day. People might think it was the physical injuries that almost killed me; in reality, it was the overwhelming sense of failure and hopelessness that nearly did, several years later.
Where have I gone?? I have been trapped inside my own head, feeling so afraid of hurting when I used to be so strong and brave, and I'd smile in spite of pain...I think it all just collapsed inward one day. There is no weakness in admitting we need to be held up sometimes. I waited til I almost broke, and even then I couldn't ask. I am so thankful for the loving people around me who saw me struggle and helped me up.
But now I am hopeful again. I have a sense of direction and a paddle I'm tentatively putting in the water. I'm not ready for the rapids, although they may find me anyway. I'll take what I can. I stay too close to shore, and don't allow myself to truly experience the power of the river. But I will. I am almost strong enough, and I know I can't be broken, not if I don't let myself. :) I'm less afraid of pain, I'm working with it instead of fighting against it. I let it keep me in a prison for too long, and my life is far from over. I need to come back into the light, and back into love. Who's with me?
Where have I gone?? I have been trapped inside my own head, feeling so afraid of hurting when I used to be so strong and brave, and I'd smile in spite of pain...I think it all just collapsed inward one day. There is no weakness in admitting we need to be held up sometimes. I waited til I almost broke, and even then I couldn't ask. I am so thankful for the loving people around me who saw me struggle and helped me up.
But now I am hopeful again. I have a sense of direction and a paddle I'm tentatively putting in the water. I'm not ready for the rapids, although they may find me anyway. I'll take what I can. I stay too close to shore, and don't allow myself to truly experience the power of the river. But I will. I am almost strong enough, and I know I can't be broken, not if I don't let myself. :) I'm less afraid of pain, I'm working with it instead of fighting against it. I let it keep me in a prison for too long, and my life is far from over. I need to come back into the light, and back into love. Who's with me?
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