Friday, December 14, 2012
worry makes you see things differently
and it's absence makes something new of the imperfect.
but it desires me in the worst way
singing me to shipwreck
caught between scenes
and it seems like an eternity
speeding up and slowing down
waiting for the line
waiting for the cue
waiting and ready...
and wondering if you're actually ready
don't overthink it.
but, one more time.
there is the right moment
and there's this terror that you just might miss it
so, in these moments, the trap door proves to be a lift...
and you're carried up higher and higher
bird's eye view.
i've forgotten it again
so focused on the cue, on the scene on that inciting moment and my performance
and obviously lack, thereof
that i've missed the big picture
i mean, i've lost the whole plot
sometimes the playwright needs to have a word
just take you up to the mezzanine floor
and remind you of why it was written in the first place...
and you sort of settle down and come alive
noticing all this light coming through the cracks
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Parker and Marley seem to love it, as well and retire to their respective cozy spots completely exhausted from racing up and down the stairs a billion times a day. Apart from a couple of finishing touches, I'm happy to say that everything is unpacked and in its right place in record time.
My mind however, is wrecking havoc on the rest of me. I've had some pretty astounding dreams over the past couple of nights - a sign that my imagination is in rare form. This can also be a negative thing when my mind decides to play God and resurrect scenes from the past and play them over and over. It also enjoys reading between the lines and getting very creative with worst case scenarios and conspiracy theories... or in layman's term, it loves to worry obsessively. This leads to anxiety.
I haven't had anxiety in a very long time.
But, on this super chilly Saturday after Black Friday after Thanksgiving, I am ridden with it like some sort of impeding outbreak of influenza. The people who really work my nerves are REALLY working my nerves. The things I've let go of have leapt back into my hands and stitched themselves round like gloves. Too tight gloves. The kind where my fingers feel claustrophobic. Uncomfortable like having to hold it in the car on a road trip until the next exit... which isn't for another 20 miles. Antsy. Like a dog in a cage waiting for it's beloved to come home. Even worse, how Marley must feel in that same predicament whilst Parker is free to roam around the new wide open space. (He's earned it, believe you me.)
Sometimes I wish that the mind WAS in fact a bit more like a computer, so that I could select certain files and delete them. Not only delete them from the original folder, but from the trash bin as well. But, the memories are here to stay. The scars from the wounds you've all but forgotten about are noticed on those random days... and all of the trauma comes back with it. And you wish that grace, mercy and forgiveness would outrun all of the nonsense and memories and the lingering pain. You wish that you were better at it all. But sometimes, the past comes back up like a flash and it just still hurts a bit. And the flashback makes you freeze... makes you shake a little... makes you panic... makes the simple tasks unbearable.
And so, diary, this is where today has brought me.
However, I'm not having it.
I have too many things for my mind to be proactively creative about...
Rather than worry and fear.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
It always comes out a bit better for me than good morning ever did. Though I love mornings, it's the actual saying that feels a bit strange whenever it comes out of my mouth.
I have also noticed that there are some days my handwriting is better than others. Whenever I have to fill out something at a counter, it's horrid. I don't understand. It's almost as if I don't recognize the letters I am making. Seeing as I've always had rather nice, albeit ever changing penmanship, this seriously bums me out.
I miss writing creatively... I miss poetry. But, sometimes it would seem my life isn't quiet enough to create rhythms unless time is set aside. At work, there is music playing almost constantly... I sometimes wish I could just turn it off for a while.
On slow days, I find myself scouring the inter-webs for blogs and new interesting instagrams to keep my mind occupied and to keep me inspired. However, I'm noticing there is a fine line between inspiration and envy. I'm also realizing that while I fully appreciate the high fashion//artistic//fun aspect of pointed nails, they absolutely freak me out. They look good on ya though. Do you boo boo. I also wish I had an ipod touch with a camera... or that tmobile would carry the iphone. Sorta. maybe not. I'm good with the touch.
Know what I miss? My blackberry. I really really do. I can see myself as the person who has both smart phone and blackberry.
Know what else I miss?
The feeling of being included with people who deeply care about me.
I miss my girlfriends and time well spent with them.
I miss being somebody's baby.
I miss my family.
I've also got a serious case of the wanderlust. As usual, this is met by an equal desire to be very settled and have a home.
I am a walking contradiction. But, it works somehow.
And on that note, I can't wait to get home to my little family of puppies.
And to catch up on this season of gossip girl on demand.
Good day, friends.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
And always being a lot of dollars short is really wearing me thin.
Always being to tired to engage or to do out of the ordinary things is getting really old, as well.
Knowing I have to be up so early...
Going above and beyond and still stressing out about rent...
Round and round and round it goes.
There's so much that's good. But, something is missing... a certain... I don't know what...
Friday, October 12, 2012
the contrast is rather lovely
rather moody, if gray
perfectly seasick, yet nothing at all is in sway
i can't quite put my finger on it.
but, i'm not so very sad.
don't worry your head about that.
just lingering. just waiting.
and being quite present.
it takes time to unlearn the lifetime habits
the mechanisms of defense
and disarm them instead
and now the mind reels
with marvelous things
not fear and dread and self-loathing
i'm happy just to watch today
to keep still
the progress is impressive
but much left to go
brick by brick
and away we go
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
At the same time, I feel like I can begin to enjoy this season, and perhaps life in general a bit more than usual. Or maybe it's that I'm coming into a place of contentment... a rest in the chaos. Because, there is most definitely in need of a lot of resolution... and I've made some difficult choices, and I'm hanging in there. But, I'm seeing some positive change, if ever so slowly in me... in my heart... and best of all in my mind. I've decided not to hide anymore, and it's super hard coming out of hiding. I've never had such a hard time telling the truth... but I'm glad I have. It scares me that I may have hurt some people who are closest to my heart... it scares me that I'll have their understandable disapproval. But sometimes what I feel is the right thing won't make a whole lot of sense to everyone. And it's taken me twenty-some years to realize that it's ok. I love my friends and their concern, but sometimes I have to go in a certain way that I believe is right for me at a certain time. I didn't realize how much of the weight on my shoulders was because of this... and it's been lifted. Who knows where this road will lead... But, I'm happy to be inspired. I'm embracing these humbling times. I'm soaking it up. It's good to rest a little inside.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
I don't like it.
My grandma always told me that a lie was an intent to deceive. There wasn't a whole lot of little white lie gray area for her. And, I appreciate that these days. I think it's done me pretty good. Besides, I'm a really really bad liar. But, right now, I feel like a liar, and that doesn't make me happy. It's more an intent to keep some information hidden, for now because I cannot take the amount of disappointment that will be thrown my way. So, I've gone silent.
I feel like I've needed people more than ever to just believe in me, or to just listen without those stern looks... or worried faces. Just some love and some hugs. I'd just like for someone to walk in my shoes and see things the way I see it. I'm real thankful that there are a couple of people stepping up to that challenge. But for the most part, it isn't the way. And as one friend said, in response to my very cryptic description of the situation, "you can rapidly feel like an island."
On top of this, I'm absolutely scared out of my mind that my decision was wrong. Mostly, I feel pretty bled white from the whole situation. I feel taken advantage of. I need to say something, but I'm not sure what to say... I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure how to move from here. And so, I'm frozen in silence... overthinking from the moment I wake up until I lay my head down at night, and wake again in the middle of dreams, to sleep, to wake when the alarm goes off.
Meanwhile, work has picked up... and my list of responsibilities feels like it's growing on the daily. I have thrown myself headlong into this and into moving, so that I can't really feel much else. Sometimes, numbness is a beautiful beautiful thing. That is, until it wears off, or the deep melancholy is awakened by exhaustion.
So many little lovely things are in the pipeline. It's just a matter of time... of waiting. It's a matter of trying to find enough extra nooks and crannies of hours in the day to be productive. It's a matter of holding it all together. It's a matter of not growing weary in well-doing... It's a matter of perseverance.
But I'm ready for resolution. I'm ready for breakthrough. I'm ready for the end of this season. I'm in need of some release. For the joy that comes in the morning after a dark night of the soul.
Bring on the sun, please...
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Boredom allows the mind to wander a bit, and think of things you wouldn't normally. I get kind of frustrated by moments like these, because most often, there's so much that needs to be checked off my "to-do list" and the present situation limits me from doing any of it. I am confined to work, or waiting on this or that... and my anxiety grows with my list of unticked boxes.
I am most definitely in one of life's waiting rooms right now. The kind without many interesting magazines, sketchy service on your phone, mind numbing info-mercials on the tv (if there is one) and no books whatsoever in which to dive. No paper, no distractions, just you and that "calming" color of paint on the walls and time ticking slowly. There is something to be learned in it, for sure... and I intend to soak it up as fully as possible. I also know that on the other side of this waiting room, some wonderful things are processing. Like a good home-cooked meal, it's just gonna take some time.
However, living in the tension... it's tedious as hell and there's nothing but temptation on all sides to give up. There is some sort of perseverance mantra ringing in my ears, and I'm going into some sort of trance, at this point. I will be honest here, and say that I'm tired of having a sore throat... and talking over enlarged tonsils. Yes, I do still have them. I'm tired of shouldering the responsibilities of others... of hearing the engine in my heart revved up to redline... of loving between a rock and a hard place. I'm weary of holding my tongue. I am weary of my love being taken advantage of. I'm tired of my energy level being on empty constantly. All I want is a couple of days to meet with friends and have coffee, eat good food, drink red wine... smart conversations and all that... laugh til my face hurts. Go on an adventure with my partner in crime... and maybe a little romance? Oh and a walk and cuddle with muh babes (dogs. )
I love those weeks when about 5 new albums come into your life and you cannot stop listening to them. Cannot. STOP. But it's the little bit of a comedown that stinks, right after you've learned them.
Boredom wanders in... and... you start noticing that those men in suits often move the same way.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
I walk into the bathroom and am surprised when looking in the mirror. Surprised at the welling up of tears glazing my eyes and my feeble stupid attempts to hold them in. I woke up with my eyes nearly swollen shut… how much more is left in those ducts?! But, it is Sunday. I think every week for at least the last 4 or 5 weeks, I have said, out loud to myself at some point or another, " I hate Sundays." I'm not entirely sure it's true. I think six days of the week is my capacity to quell the grief. I can hide it from the world for six days… and on the seventh day, I need a rest. The bandages fall off, like the adhesive will no longer hold. Right around midnight the panic attacks begin, and I'm in bed hyperventilating, praying to just fall asleep. Sunday morning is the hardest day to pull myself from the white haven of blankets and the warm of the dogs. If I make myself get to church, it begins sooner than later. I sit alone in a room full of people. I look around and find familiar faces everywhere, but they'll not notice I'm there. I'm not there to be seen. I'm there to unfold… to be unfolded. And sure enough, some invisible blanket wraps round and I'm hidden behind some veil of grace. The silent room is permeated with a story being unwrapped for my soul. There is sweet relief here. I am met by this strange feeling of release mingling with failure. I thought I'd done so well. Come to terms. You know, all of those therapy sort of phrases we Westerners use to explain that which we really know very little about…. The human heart and it's strength… and it's frailty. Today, he said that it hurts so deeply, when you love so deeply. I've heard that before, but it brought comfort in hearing it again. Unlike most Sundays where I'm happy to unravel in the shadows in movements of worship, I wanted to leave. It doesn't matter, though whether I stay in bed or head to church, those hands will find me wherever it is that I may be on Sundays. They will find me and unwrap the bandages. They find me and clean my still gaping wounds. Ever so gently applying some soothing balm. They take care to gently wrap them back up. And I fall to a million pieces. I am absolutely alone, but wrapped up by this invisible presence.
It's the quietest day…. and I break again and again and again.
I long for the days when the heaviness is gone from my heart. On Sunday I'm able to weep for the great weight. On Sunday I don't have to pretend it's all ok. Homesick for family, for loving souls who will wrap me up in their arms where I can disappear for just a little while. I long for resolution or for deep sleep. What would sleep do, though, but leave my wounds unattended to and allow some cruel reprieve… only for the pain to intensify the moment I am once again conscious. I have never been so tired… so utterly exhausted. I have never reached such a depth in the seas of sorrow. So I suppose I've never loved so deeply. And I have never been so full of hope in such a dark night… yet I've never felt such agony in waiting for the sun to rise.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
the magic of the woods at night is met with the terror of the unknown
because it always will.
and healing invades
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The sunset was crazy. So red and the sun so incredibly bright. On fire.. like a camp fire sliding down the wall of the sky.
I don't remember what time it was. I'd been off work for hours and I wasn't hungry so it really didn't matter for some reason. Running errands. Trying to go unnoticed. Trying to ignore the glances. Strange how much the tiny heels on these sandals actually cause the legs to wobble. I was waiting in line. Watching the familiar tapping of the palm on the scalp of the customer being served. Girl's got weave. If you didn't know, well, now you know. I miss my long hair. I say that at least twice a day. I wonder if my coworker is right, and I can actually get extensions that look awesome? I'm too low maintenance. I wonder if it would make me feel like a million bucks, though. Like a few inches of hair would make me feel a bit more like myself or something. Silly things girls think. All the conversations were mumbles and hums. I kept catching clips and phrases, something about being able to count, something about switching to self check-out lanes, and employees searching for elusive cigarette brands. Drawers opening and closing. The shelves did look a little barren, this evening. I don't smoke, but I kind of thought about it for the first time. I mean, other than those cloves way back. You know what I mean. I wondered if it would actually take the edge off. I wasn't really going to buy them, though.
So, it was my turn, then. I felt awkward answering the question "How can I help you?" I wanted to use as little words as possible. I don't remember saying anything, actually. If I did, maybe three words. I stood there just watching the wall of Marlboros and it took a moment to realize my vision was blurred and that I'd been staring at the same carton of marlboro reds for at least 30 seconds. A long time, when you're standing on your own, processing. I don't even know what I was feeling, other than weightlessness. Just floating. Half there. Completely sober. Feeling absolutely stoned. Noticing another box on another shelf. What is the rhyme and reason to the stocking here? Back and forth. I wondered if I thought hard enough, if I might see something appear. I could've sworn I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I considered getting food, at this point, but I couldn't fathom anything tasting remotely nice. I didn't notice anyone standing behind me, well except for this woman who was fascinated by the payment fees posted on the desk. She stood next to me and I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I was suddenly aware of space and my personal space being filled up with a stranger. I glanced and saw some men passing, and felt their looks passing, and I didn't want to be alone anymore in the grocery store. Great. This is going to be cake. I felt the dull ache in my chest. Thanks for the reminder. I noticed the girl, working… her facial piercing and faint shadow of a mustache on the upper lip. Or was it just a shadow? Am I drawing mustaches on faces in my mind? That's just weird. Maybe I'm about to go crazy. Like the sunset… just combust into flames like a campfire sliding down the wall of the sky.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Blessed are those who have run out of strength, ideas, will power, resolve, or energy.
Blessed are those who ache because of how severely out of whack the world is.
Blessed are those stumble, trip, and fall in the same place again and again.
Blessed are those who on a regular basis have a dark day in which despair seems to be a step behind them wherever they go.
Blessed are you, for God is with you, God is on your side, God meets you in that place.