I love lyrics. Lately... Colton Dixon's lyrics. Here are some of the best!!
"NOISE"
Every day is a car alarm
That I don't know how to disarm
Where is the silence
That simple silence
Every day is a time bomb
Ticking louder till it goes off
Where is the silence
Where is it hiding
Cause everything is noise
Everything is screaming out
Everything has come alive, oh
But I'm getting lost in the sound
I need to hear Your voice
Reminding me that at the end of the day
No matter what goes down I'll be OK
Even through the noise
I'm looking high and I'm looking low
It's the same any place I go
Where is the silence
Where is it hiding
Gonna come what may be
But things are getting kind of crazy
Where is the silence
Can't get no silence
Cause everything is noise
Everything is screaming out
Everything has come alive, oh
But I'm getting lost in the sound
I need to hear Your voice
Reminding me that at the end of the day
No matter what goes down I'll be OK
Even through the noise
Whisper my name, whisper my name
When it's getting too high
Whisper my name, whisper my name
Tell me that it's alright
[x2]
Cause everything is noise
Everything is screaming out
Everything has come alive, oh
But I'm getting lost in the sound
I need to hear Your voice
Reminding me that at the end of the day
No matter what goes down I'll be OK
Even through the noise
Even through the noise
Friday, February 01, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
BREATHE.
Step one complete. It all hurts a little tiny bit less now. It usually dissipates for awhile before knocking me over again. I don't like feeling like I'm not in control. I'm definitely not in control. I need to switch roads for awhile and stay away from those destinations. I'm not ready to go there yet. SO! Until I am... Different road. Better road.
Writing. I need to do it. I need to be it. I'm working on an Author page, and here is my new self portrait:
I don't hate it, so that's a good sign. I look like I am dreaming up a story! This is usually the case when my mind gives up on reality. It's so much easier to exist in fiction. I suppose that's why it's fictional. Not real. *sigh* At least I have total control in that world.
The entire Granted saga is so personal sometimes. When I'm writing about their world in ancient Greece, I honestly find myself giggling, thinking... there's no possible way that anyone other than me will find this the least bit entertaining. Historical stories were where my brain always wandered to when I was younger. I blame my mother. Her passion for epic period romances was definitely passed down to me. Braveheart, Last of the Mohicans, Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility, Romeo and Juliet, etc etc etc. Everything seemed so much more passionate and beautiful in the past. Everything was more intimate and personal because it had to be. There were no phone call hang ups or misinterpreted text messages. People would travel for days just to see someone else they cared about. Saying goodbye was real. I just love it so much!
When I was in 6th grade, I wrote my first Historic Romance entitled "Lady Elizabeth". It became the obsession of every girl (and one special boy) in my Communications class. Writing about royalty and indulging in those languages is such a guilty pleasure, that I'm THRILLED I took Granted there. It was an experiment when Talie had that first dream in the first book, and before I knew it, I had developed a plan to have her get stuck in the past. It's so much fun!
It's personal, yes... but every time someone praises it or says something wonderful, my heart explodes with joy. It's validation, but beyond that... they are telling me that my passion is worth it. My dreams are possible. I can do what I love, and they want me to do it. They want more. It's incredible.
I'm looking forward to being done with reality for awhile. I need to go back to fantasyland. Nothing can touch me there. As odd as it sounds, it's easier to connect with God when I'm in that world, because I feel like I'm utilizing the gifts He's given me, and therefore making him proud. When I'm NOT in that world, I'm completely out of my element, and constantly lost. Sure, it's easier and much more fun to fantasize with someone else, but... sometimes that's just not possible. Also... I don't want to be loved for only my stories. You have to love my reality too... which I know is a HUGE order, because I can't even do that. Not yet, anyway.
People talk to me a lot when I'm writing. They don't talk to me much when I'm not. That's discouraging and encouraging all at the same time. If you're confused can you imagine how I feel??? Right?!?!? I love that they love it, but... I want them to love me without the words sometimes too. We can hang out even if I haven't written anything in several months. At least I'm writing here. It keeps my brain moving, anyway.
Life.
Breathe.
BREATHE.
Step one complete. It all hurts a little tiny bit less now. It usually dissipates for awhile before knocking me over again. I don't like feeling like I'm not in control. I'm definitely not in control. I need to switch roads for awhile and stay away from those destinations. I'm not ready to go there yet. SO! Until I am... Different road. Better road.
Writing. I need to do it. I need to be it. I'm working on an Author page, and here is my new self portrait:
I don't hate it, so that's a good sign. I look like I am dreaming up a story! This is usually the case when my mind gives up on reality. It's so much easier to exist in fiction. I suppose that's why it's fictional. Not real. *sigh* At least I have total control in that world.
The entire Granted saga is so personal sometimes. When I'm writing about their world in ancient Greece, I honestly find myself giggling, thinking... there's no possible way that anyone other than me will find this the least bit entertaining. Historical stories were where my brain always wandered to when I was younger. I blame my mother. Her passion for epic period romances was definitely passed down to me. Braveheart, Last of the Mohicans, Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility, Romeo and Juliet, etc etc etc. Everything seemed so much more passionate and beautiful in the past. Everything was more intimate and personal because it had to be. There were no phone call hang ups or misinterpreted text messages. People would travel for days just to see someone else they cared about. Saying goodbye was real. I just love it so much!
When I was in 6th grade, I wrote my first Historic Romance entitled "Lady Elizabeth". It became the obsession of every girl (and one special boy) in my Communications class. Writing about royalty and indulging in those languages is such a guilty pleasure, that I'm THRILLED I took Granted there. It was an experiment when Talie had that first dream in the first book, and before I knew it, I had developed a plan to have her get stuck in the past. It's so much fun!
It's personal, yes... but every time someone praises it or says something wonderful, my heart explodes with joy. It's validation, but beyond that... they are telling me that my passion is worth it. My dreams are possible. I can do what I love, and they want me to do it. They want more. It's incredible.
I'm looking forward to being done with reality for awhile. I need to go back to fantasyland. Nothing can touch me there. As odd as it sounds, it's easier to connect with God when I'm in that world, because I feel like I'm utilizing the gifts He's given me, and therefore making him proud. When I'm NOT in that world, I'm completely out of my element, and constantly lost. Sure, it's easier and much more fun to fantasize with someone else, but... sometimes that's just not possible. Also... I don't want to be loved for only my stories. You have to love my reality too... which I know is a HUGE order, because I can't even do that. Not yet, anyway.
People talk to me a lot when I'm writing. They don't talk to me much when I'm not. That's discouraging and encouraging all at the same time. If you're confused can you imagine how I feel??? Right?!?!? I love that they love it, but... I want them to love me without the words sometimes too. We can hang out even if I haven't written anything in several months. At least I'm writing here. It keeps my brain moving, anyway.
Life.
Breathe.
BREATHE.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Why does everything have to be so confusing?? It was just a few months ago when I thought everything was figured out. There were no more questions. Everything was comfortable and secure. What happened next? Someone dropped an anvil on my head and knocked me out. When I came to, everything was different. I think I'm in an alternate universe...
It's frustrating to be 'one of my dearest friends' to every friend I have... and yet... that only comes into play when something horrible is happening to you. When it comes to the good stuff, I'm a pal. When it comes to the bad stuff, I'm your rock. I'm who you turn to. I want to be that for everyone, that's part of the very core of my being. However... I want the good stuff too.
It's confusing when someone calls themselves YOUR best friend, but not the other way around. It gives you a sense of false entitlement, and when things don't happen it's beyond confusing. It's devastating. Why call yourself that? Why lay that claim? I've watched envy come out of people when I display a closeness to others. What's entertaining, is that I WANTED to belong to you. Your actions make no sense. "Hi, I'm Corrie's best friend..." why would you want that title?
If those words had never been spoken, it wouldn't be such a heartache to realize that while you say I am the only person privy to your dreams and fantasies... that on the day when those dreams come true, I don't get to stand beside you. I don't get to trounce around in a gown and pose for pictures. Why do you want to be my best but keep me as a dear friend?
Your biggest dream comes true. You have found the man God has chosen for you. All the people who really hold that place in your life have met and loved him. I'm literally...across the street when it happens. My brain works differently than others I think. Were I engaged and across the street from a "dear friend" who had not met him yet, I would be like "Let's run over for a quick minute! She HAS to meet you!"
I joke about it. I shrug it off. But there's no reason that will satisfy me. There is no excuse. There is only a choice, and you chose what you chose, and I'm here. I'm still here.
There have been abundant amounts of these choices throughout the years. What am I hanging on for? A change? It's not going to happen. Why are we here? Haha... isn't that the mother of all questions.
You know what's funny? When you get hit with a wave of memories, there's no telling where it's going to knock you back to. Recently it's taken me all the way back to the beginning. The beginning of it all. It's remarkable.
LuRae was my closest friend in the whole world. We met in junior high, and I comforted her when she got pelted by water balloons at Lisa Nelson's birthday party. She was the weird 6th grader who liked to dip string cheese and french fries in frozen yogurt. She wore a lot of turtle necks. It was she and I every day. We were best friends through the rest of junior high, and into high school. We developed a serious fascination with The Moffatts. I started writing a story about them.
When she was in 9th grade, LuRae brought Nikki to our lunch table. I knew Nikki. Her Grandma lived across the street. She was so sweet and cute and everyone loved her. It was impossible not to like her. LuRae wanted Nikki to be in on the Moffatt story, that we took more seriously than reality. I promised to write her into the sequel. Suddenly, our duo became a trio. Every day it was Corrie, Nikki and LuRae. (And the Moffatts) We made up dance routines and had sleepovers constantly. It was my version of Heaven.
One day that same year, I was sitting in homeroom in Mr. Arney's classroom. Lurae rushed into the room and threw herself into my arms, sobbing. Nikki trailed behind silently. I held my friend and asked her what was wrong. Her Mom had gone into the hospital for psychiatric care. Nikki informed me that Lurae was going to be staying with her family until further notice. That's when everything changed.
I couldn't be upset, what kind of person would that make me? They became family, and I stayed a dear friend. I lost my two best friends... to each other. They were so excited to tell me about their family trip to Mexico. I couldn't imagine a more painful thing at the time.
I had a friend named Sarah. She had a friend named Jenny she met through softball. I became friends with Jenny as well, and introduced her to Nikki and Lurae. Jenny and Lurae became inseparable, and that left Nikki and I to become a lot closer. I didn't mind. She was easy to confide in. She understood my quirks and sense of humor. I supported her while she dated my best guy-friend, even though I was insane with jealousy. She was too kind to hate. We got BFF rice necklaces at Marketfest. She was my kindred. Most times I didn't even have to say what I was thinking out loud. I loved having that connection with a friend.
There was a party one night in which I acted as a vessel. Jesus and me told them a story. They remember it vividly, and they say it played a huge role in changing their lives. I loved being that moral sounding ground, that person who would be the reality check they needed when temptation came knocking. Maybe that was my entire purpose...
There was a boy named Ryan. I really liked him. He really liked Sunnie. He pretended to like me to get an invite to a barbecue. He destroyed me. Everyone knew everything that happened. Lurae dated him and Nikki hung out with him. This was the beginning of my inability to understand their actions. It only got worse from there.
The following year I went to south campus. White Bear is screwed up, housing 9th and 10th grade in one campus on one side of the city, and 11th and 12th on the other. I was one year ahead of Nikki and Lurae. I was separated from them, and they... being thoroughly engulfed with Jenny and the new slew of friends they found themselves with... rarely talked to me. Then Mom got sick. Very sick.
We've been over, backwards, forwards...all over this. It was so extremely painful to be so very on my own. My only friends were my teachers. I was 16 years old when I started living truly on my own. My mom had trained me well to be her minion, having had me running an entire household by age seven... but when she got sick, it was no longer optional. I was in charge.
I wrote gut wrenching emails begging Nikki and Lurae to be there for me, help me, spend time with me... but they couldn't handle it. I had been there for Lurae when her Mom wasn't doing well, why couldn't they help me? I never asked for help again. From anyone. Ever. Scared straight.
Mom went into remission and before I knew it, the three of us were in school together again for my senior year. We shared my giant locker and rode to school together every day. Lurae was suddenly a lot more mature than Nikki and I, and I remember one day of goofing off in the hallway that had Nikki and I thoroughly scolded by Lurae for embarrassing her. I could feel them slipping. I was supposed to go to a movie with Nikki and some of her friends one Friday. She was asked to un-invite me, and so she did. I still don't understand that one... because I would never do that. I just wouldn't.
I graduated High School. Whether it was her medications, or just her ongoing craziness... my Mom kept up her habits of verbal and emotional abuse. There was one day in particular when I had planned to go on a college visit. My Mom said if I didn't go to school, she would kick me out. I was being proactive, and Kelly was going to pick me up and take me to River Falls. When I was packing up, my Mom informed me I had to cancel my plans and clean out the garage. I tried to reason with her, but it turned into her screaming at me, and tacking on chore after chore after chore. When I still claimed that I had to leave within twenty minutes, and I would clean the garage the following weekend (since apparently neither Sunnie nor Jamison were being asked to help in any way. As usual.) she called for my Dad.
He had me up against the wall military style screaming all sorts of things at me. I cried, and he laughed at me. When I broke away I ran for the front door. They told me if I walked out the door I was no longer their daughter and I couldn't come home. Things like this had been happening for so long, that I was ready to walk away.
I thought I was witnessing a miracle when I saw a slew of cars across the street. I recognized Nikki's parents' car, and thought... oh thank God. Thank you God! I rang the doorbell and was very grateful when Nikki answered to my shaking, sobbing, blubbery self. I explained what had happened and she invited me in.
She filled her Mom in, and having known that they had selflessly housed Lurae repeatedly in her times of need, I bravely asked if I could stay at their house for the night. Nikki's Mom said no, saying she didn't want to disrupt our family dynamic. I didn't understand... I realized I had nowhere else to go, and I was really truly on my own. I ended up calling Jessie Coffey and stayed with her family.
That group of friends that I had been a central part of continued on without me while they finished their senior year in high school. This was normal, I suppose. Mom got sick again on and off, and I became her full time care giver. My sense of commitment to my family has always been a little too strong for my own good. I met BJ and moved to Alabama. Nikki came to visit during the worst of it, and saved my life. I was still her best friend then. That was the last time.
When I moved home, Lurae got married. It was so surreal and painful to watch my best friends up there celebrating something while I watched. I wanted to be a part of it. Nikki's parents stood when Pastor Steve asked for the families of the bride and groom to rise. I didn't have a family at that point for the most part. They had loved and supported Lurae, and had become her family. No one had done that for me, and I was so envious and sad. I nearly crushed BJ's hand, but was so fortunate that he knew everything and said I wasn't crazy for being upset.
At the reception after the meal, they had the wedding party all dance. Then they had them each grab someone else. These had been my closest friends for four years or more... nobody grabbed me. BJ, Sunnie, Paul and I were the last ones standing there, with the exception of a few older guests who had remained seated. Seems like a silly thing to resent, but it was the final dagger. That's when I officially let go of Lurae and the rest of them. I was a shadow from a time that had ended. Nikki was different.
We all know the rest of the story. Well, I do anyway. It's been a constant yo-yo ever since. Now I'm just confused. How did I start out at the center and end up 50 miles outside of it all? Lurae is in Nikki's wedding. They're still family. I saw their Christmas pictures this year. Nikki knew I didn't have a Christmas. I wonder... if my Mom had gotten sick first if maybe I would have been the one invited into the family. Not likely, but... it's nice to think about. I could have had holidays and pool parties and be in weddings and in on the celebrations. I could have been the girl on the inside, instead of the girl constantly staring out the window gazing at all of the cars gathering for things I wasn't invited to, and seeing the pictures later.
Corrie's the strong one. She's good on her own. Except she isn't anymore. I just want someone to see me, REALLY see me, and tell me all the whys so I can sleep. Because I don't want to spend all of these moments every time the shadows get in analyzing what I did wrong and how I could have changed it. All of the times I tried to walk away and she would show up crying begging me not to... only to leave me on the outside again and again and again...
I am not who you say I am. I wish I were. Oh, Alexander. Now would be a really excellent time for you to exist. It would also be a really great time for my memory to stop being such a steel trap. Oy. I told you it was ALL still in there. Every last detail.
I have heard versions of who I am told from so many different angles in so many different situations. Make up your mind so I can make up my mind. And then shut my mind OFF. Oh my goodness... is it healthy or incredibly morbid to fantasize about your own funeral? I constantly wonder who would attend, who would speak, and what they would say. I have a feeling so much of it would be lies.
It's frustrating to be 'one of my dearest friends' to every friend I have... and yet... that only comes into play when something horrible is happening to you. When it comes to the good stuff, I'm a pal. When it comes to the bad stuff, I'm your rock. I'm who you turn to. I want to be that for everyone, that's part of the very core of my being. However... I want the good stuff too.
It's confusing when someone calls themselves YOUR best friend, but not the other way around. It gives you a sense of false entitlement, and when things don't happen it's beyond confusing. It's devastating. Why call yourself that? Why lay that claim? I've watched envy come out of people when I display a closeness to others. What's entertaining, is that I WANTED to belong to you. Your actions make no sense. "Hi, I'm Corrie's best friend..." why would you want that title?
If those words had never been spoken, it wouldn't be such a heartache to realize that while you say I am the only person privy to your dreams and fantasies... that on the day when those dreams come true, I don't get to stand beside you. I don't get to trounce around in a gown and pose for pictures. Why do you want to be my best but keep me as a dear friend?
Your biggest dream comes true. You have found the man God has chosen for you. All the people who really hold that place in your life have met and loved him. I'm literally...across the street when it happens. My brain works differently than others I think. Were I engaged and across the street from a "dear friend" who had not met him yet, I would be like "Let's run over for a quick minute! She HAS to meet you!"
I joke about it. I shrug it off. But there's no reason that will satisfy me. There is no excuse. There is only a choice, and you chose what you chose, and I'm here. I'm still here.
There have been abundant amounts of these choices throughout the years. What am I hanging on for? A change? It's not going to happen. Why are we here? Haha... isn't that the mother of all questions.
You know what's funny? When you get hit with a wave of memories, there's no telling where it's going to knock you back to. Recently it's taken me all the way back to the beginning. The beginning of it all. It's remarkable.
LuRae was my closest friend in the whole world. We met in junior high, and I comforted her when she got pelted by water balloons at Lisa Nelson's birthday party. She was the weird 6th grader who liked to dip string cheese and french fries in frozen yogurt. She wore a lot of turtle necks. It was she and I every day. We were best friends through the rest of junior high, and into high school. We developed a serious fascination with The Moffatts. I started writing a story about them.
When she was in 9th grade, LuRae brought Nikki to our lunch table. I knew Nikki. Her Grandma lived across the street. She was so sweet and cute and everyone loved her. It was impossible not to like her. LuRae wanted Nikki to be in on the Moffatt story, that we took more seriously than reality. I promised to write her into the sequel. Suddenly, our duo became a trio. Every day it was Corrie, Nikki and LuRae. (And the Moffatts) We made up dance routines and had sleepovers constantly. It was my version of Heaven.
One day that same year, I was sitting in homeroom in Mr. Arney's classroom. Lurae rushed into the room and threw herself into my arms, sobbing. Nikki trailed behind silently. I held my friend and asked her what was wrong. Her Mom had gone into the hospital for psychiatric care. Nikki informed me that Lurae was going to be staying with her family until further notice. That's when everything changed.
I couldn't be upset, what kind of person would that make me? They became family, and I stayed a dear friend. I lost my two best friends... to each other. They were so excited to tell me about their family trip to Mexico. I couldn't imagine a more painful thing at the time.
I had a friend named Sarah. She had a friend named Jenny she met through softball. I became friends with Jenny as well, and introduced her to Nikki and Lurae. Jenny and Lurae became inseparable, and that left Nikki and I to become a lot closer. I didn't mind. She was easy to confide in. She understood my quirks and sense of humor. I supported her while she dated my best guy-friend, even though I was insane with jealousy. She was too kind to hate. We got BFF rice necklaces at Marketfest. She was my kindred. Most times I didn't even have to say what I was thinking out loud. I loved having that connection with a friend.
There was a party one night in which I acted as a vessel. Jesus and me told them a story. They remember it vividly, and they say it played a huge role in changing their lives. I loved being that moral sounding ground, that person who would be the reality check they needed when temptation came knocking. Maybe that was my entire purpose...
There was a boy named Ryan. I really liked him. He really liked Sunnie. He pretended to like me to get an invite to a barbecue. He destroyed me. Everyone knew everything that happened. Lurae dated him and Nikki hung out with him. This was the beginning of my inability to understand their actions. It only got worse from there.
The following year I went to south campus. White Bear is screwed up, housing 9th and 10th grade in one campus on one side of the city, and 11th and 12th on the other. I was one year ahead of Nikki and Lurae. I was separated from them, and they... being thoroughly engulfed with Jenny and the new slew of friends they found themselves with... rarely talked to me. Then Mom got sick. Very sick.
We've been over, backwards, forwards...all over this. It was so extremely painful to be so very on my own. My only friends were my teachers. I was 16 years old when I started living truly on my own. My mom had trained me well to be her minion, having had me running an entire household by age seven... but when she got sick, it was no longer optional. I was in charge.
I wrote gut wrenching emails begging Nikki and Lurae to be there for me, help me, spend time with me... but they couldn't handle it. I had been there for Lurae when her Mom wasn't doing well, why couldn't they help me? I never asked for help again. From anyone. Ever. Scared straight.
Mom went into remission and before I knew it, the three of us were in school together again for my senior year. We shared my giant locker and rode to school together every day. Lurae was suddenly a lot more mature than Nikki and I, and I remember one day of goofing off in the hallway that had Nikki and I thoroughly scolded by Lurae for embarrassing her. I could feel them slipping. I was supposed to go to a movie with Nikki and some of her friends one Friday. She was asked to un-invite me, and so she did. I still don't understand that one... because I would never do that. I just wouldn't.
I graduated High School. Whether it was her medications, or just her ongoing craziness... my Mom kept up her habits of verbal and emotional abuse. There was one day in particular when I had planned to go on a college visit. My Mom said if I didn't go to school, she would kick me out. I was being proactive, and Kelly was going to pick me up and take me to River Falls. When I was packing up, my Mom informed me I had to cancel my plans and clean out the garage. I tried to reason with her, but it turned into her screaming at me, and tacking on chore after chore after chore. When I still claimed that I had to leave within twenty minutes, and I would clean the garage the following weekend (since apparently neither Sunnie nor Jamison were being asked to help in any way. As usual.) she called for my Dad.
He had me up against the wall military style screaming all sorts of things at me. I cried, and he laughed at me. When I broke away I ran for the front door. They told me if I walked out the door I was no longer their daughter and I couldn't come home. Things like this had been happening for so long, that I was ready to walk away.
I thought I was witnessing a miracle when I saw a slew of cars across the street. I recognized Nikki's parents' car, and thought... oh thank God. Thank you God! I rang the doorbell and was very grateful when Nikki answered to my shaking, sobbing, blubbery self. I explained what had happened and she invited me in.
She filled her Mom in, and having known that they had selflessly housed Lurae repeatedly in her times of need, I bravely asked if I could stay at their house for the night. Nikki's Mom said no, saying she didn't want to disrupt our family dynamic. I didn't understand... I realized I had nowhere else to go, and I was really truly on my own. I ended up calling Jessie Coffey and stayed with her family.
That group of friends that I had been a central part of continued on without me while they finished their senior year in high school. This was normal, I suppose. Mom got sick again on and off, and I became her full time care giver. My sense of commitment to my family has always been a little too strong for my own good. I met BJ and moved to Alabama. Nikki came to visit during the worst of it, and saved my life. I was still her best friend then. That was the last time.
When I moved home, Lurae got married. It was so surreal and painful to watch my best friends up there celebrating something while I watched. I wanted to be a part of it. Nikki's parents stood when Pastor Steve asked for the families of the bride and groom to rise. I didn't have a family at that point for the most part. They had loved and supported Lurae, and had become her family. No one had done that for me, and I was so envious and sad. I nearly crushed BJ's hand, but was so fortunate that he knew everything and said I wasn't crazy for being upset.
At the reception after the meal, they had the wedding party all dance. Then they had them each grab someone else. These had been my closest friends for four years or more... nobody grabbed me. BJ, Sunnie, Paul and I were the last ones standing there, with the exception of a few older guests who had remained seated. Seems like a silly thing to resent, but it was the final dagger. That's when I officially let go of Lurae and the rest of them. I was a shadow from a time that had ended. Nikki was different.
We all know the rest of the story. Well, I do anyway. It's been a constant yo-yo ever since. Now I'm just confused. How did I start out at the center and end up 50 miles outside of it all? Lurae is in Nikki's wedding. They're still family. I saw their Christmas pictures this year. Nikki knew I didn't have a Christmas. I wonder... if my Mom had gotten sick first if maybe I would have been the one invited into the family. Not likely, but... it's nice to think about. I could have had holidays and pool parties and be in weddings and in on the celebrations. I could have been the girl on the inside, instead of the girl constantly staring out the window gazing at all of the cars gathering for things I wasn't invited to, and seeing the pictures later.
Corrie's the strong one. She's good on her own. Except she isn't anymore. I just want someone to see me, REALLY see me, and tell me all the whys so I can sleep. Because I don't want to spend all of these moments every time the shadows get in analyzing what I did wrong and how I could have changed it. All of the times I tried to walk away and she would show up crying begging me not to... only to leave me on the outside again and again and again...
I am not who you say I am. I wish I were. Oh, Alexander. Now would be a really excellent time for you to exist. It would also be a really great time for my memory to stop being such a steel trap. Oy. I told you it was ALL still in there. Every last detail.
I have heard versions of who I am told from so many different angles in so many different situations. Make up your mind so I can make up my mind. And then shut my mind OFF. Oh my goodness... is it healthy or incredibly morbid to fantasize about your own funeral? I constantly wonder who would attend, who would speak, and what they would say. I have a feeling so much of it would be lies.
Monday, January 28, 2013
The amount of sleep I am getting is never enough. I am always so tired. I think I've just completely exhausted my brain. I've explored every situation and scenario more than I should, spending far too much time analyzing and coming up with solutions.
LET GO.
Well, I'm trying. I promise. There's only so much I can accomplish all at once. There's a battle going on, constantly.
I remember the talks I would have with my Mom when I was younger about spiritual warfare. There's always something going on behind the scenes, good constantly battling evil. This could be a pretty good indicator of where my fatigue is coming from.
There is so much back and forth that I feel like I'm going a little bit nutty. I've talked to a couple of friends about it, well... the gist of things, and they all have the same reaction. I've explained as much as I can about the past, present, and the foreseeable future, and they all say be done. Walk away. I wish it were that easy.
I had dinner with Jess the other night, and I always love catching up with her. She has tough love down to an art, and she never sees a whole lot of gray area. There's a lot of comfort knowing I have exactly ONE friend who was there for all of it. Beginning, middle, end. We were friends in high school when mom first got sick. She was the only friend who came to sit with me in the hospital. She came to the funeral. She was there.
I'm not her bestest best friend, but she was still there. I don't know why it's so important to me to have a friendship like I've seen so many others have. I'm sure it comes across as pathetic and redundant, but I crave it nonetheless. My family life has been consistently strained for as long as I can remember. The degree of that strain has varied year to year, but it's always been there. I just want to feel that love. I want to be needed, and not just when there's a problem. Needed for happy.
I am hoping that God's plan really does include a future spouse...who in turn will be the friend my heart is needing.
-OR-
I can pray for contentment in being alone. I can pray that the friendship I crave can become little more than a whisper, fulfilled over and over again by Jesus. In a spiritual sense, He has been and always will be my closest friend. I suppose it is the earthly hopes that keep me bound to that idea. Girl talk and secret sharing and giggle moments. All of those things without a melancholy torture in the back of my mind reminding me that I'm different than they are. They have someone they prefer over me. Somebody else knows more of their secrets. Why does that matter?!?!?! It just does.
BLARGH.
I have to make another doctor's appointment. I haven't written about any of the recent complications, but they are on-going. I know what I'm talking about. Girl problems. Right.
Tomorrow is Sunnie's 28th birthday. Family dinner :) Dad will have to speak to me! Or maybe not... I hope so. Living with him has become beyond difficult. I don't feel at home in my home, and I want to find a way out. He loves my dogs, and when I try to find alternative people to watch over them for me, he gets upset, saying he is more than capable. PROBLEM: his fence is falling apart, and he has no desire to repair it. I lack the skills, but I'm willing to try. There's only so much you can do with duct tape and rocks...
Because Dodger is an escape artist, Dad has decided that he doesn't want to let the dogs out to go to the bathroom anymore. What's the other option? Oh yes. They poop and pee all over the house. This is not rocket science. I go out and stand with them while they're outside, so Dodger wouldn't even THINK about trying to get out. Dad doesn't want to do that. Even though he's already outside in the garage smoking himself to death... the extra two steps would do him in.
The other night I came home, and as I walked in the door, Dad mutes the TV (That I pay for) and says -- without so much as a greeting -- "I was working in my music room (which is an empty bedroom with a guitar in it) and your dogs went in and pooped and peed everywhere. You have work to do." Aaaaand... the tv is back on. End of conversation. Instantly my throat constricted and I wanted to sob. No, no.... don't cry. Just keep going. The kitchen is trashed again and there is peanut butter and orange peels EVERYWHERE. Just clean it all up and go back to your room. This is the extent of our interactions lately. It's lovely.
Dodger needs to run, so I can't legitimately go back to apartment living. Not only that, but with the medical issues I'm facing paired with my inability to get insured... my money is unavailable to find a decent place to live. Rock. Hard place. Stuck... I've never felt more isolated. I'm becoming a hermit, and I'm not entirely torn apart by it. Willingly deciding to stay at home is a lot better than being left at home. Word.
LET GO.
Well, I'm trying. I promise. There's only so much I can accomplish all at once. There's a battle going on, constantly.
I remember the talks I would have with my Mom when I was younger about spiritual warfare. There's always something going on behind the scenes, good constantly battling evil. This could be a pretty good indicator of where my fatigue is coming from.
There is so much back and forth that I feel like I'm going a little bit nutty. I've talked to a couple of friends about it, well... the gist of things, and they all have the same reaction. I've explained as much as I can about the past, present, and the foreseeable future, and they all say be done. Walk away. I wish it were that easy.
I had dinner with Jess the other night, and I always love catching up with her. She has tough love down to an art, and she never sees a whole lot of gray area. There's a lot of comfort knowing I have exactly ONE friend who was there for all of it. Beginning, middle, end. We were friends in high school when mom first got sick. She was the only friend who came to sit with me in the hospital. She came to the funeral. She was there.
I'm not her bestest best friend, but she was still there. I don't know why it's so important to me to have a friendship like I've seen so many others have. I'm sure it comes across as pathetic and redundant, but I crave it nonetheless. My family life has been consistently strained for as long as I can remember. The degree of that strain has varied year to year, but it's always been there. I just want to feel that love. I want to be needed, and not just when there's a problem. Needed for happy.
I am hoping that God's plan really does include a future spouse...who in turn will be the friend my heart is needing.
-OR-
I can pray for contentment in being alone. I can pray that the friendship I crave can become little more than a whisper, fulfilled over and over again by Jesus. In a spiritual sense, He has been and always will be my closest friend. I suppose it is the earthly hopes that keep me bound to that idea. Girl talk and secret sharing and giggle moments. All of those things without a melancholy torture in the back of my mind reminding me that I'm different than they are. They have someone they prefer over me. Somebody else knows more of their secrets. Why does that matter?!?!?! It just does.
BLARGH.
I have to make another doctor's appointment. I haven't written about any of the recent complications, but they are on-going. I know what I'm talking about. Girl problems. Right.
Tomorrow is Sunnie's 28th birthday. Family dinner :) Dad will have to speak to me! Or maybe not... I hope so. Living with him has become beyond difficult. I don't feel at home in my home, and I want to find a way out. He loves my dogs, and when I try to find alternative people to watch over them for me, he gets upset, saying he is more than capable. PROBLEM: his fence is falling apart, and he has no desire to repair it. I lack the skills, but I'm willing to try. There's only so much you can do with duct tape and rocks...
Because Dodger is an escape artist, Dad has decided that he doesn't want to let the dogs out to go to the bathroom anymore. What's the other option? Oh yes. They poop and pee all over the house. This is not rocket science. I go out and stand with them while they're outside, so Dodger wouldn't even THINK about trying to get out. Dad doesn't want to do that. Even though he's already outside in the garage smoking himself to death... the extra two steps would do him in.
The other night I came home, and as I walked in the door, Dad mutes the TV (That I pay for) and says -- without so much as a greeting -- "I was working in my music room (which is an empty bedroom with a guitar in it) and your dogs went in and pooped and peed everywhere. You have work to do." Aaaaand... the tv is back on. End of conversation. Instantly my throat constricted and I wanted to sob. No, no.... don't cry. Just keep going. The kitchen is trashed again and there is peanut butter and orange peels EVERYWHERE. Just clean it all up and go back to your room. This is the extent of our interactions lately. It's lovely.
Dodger needs to run, so I can't legitimately go back to apartment living. Not only that, but with the medical issues I'm facing paired with my inability to get insured... my money is unavailable to find a decent place to live. Rock. Hard place. Stuck... I've never felt more isolated. I'm becoming a hermit, and I'm not entirely torn apart by it. Willingly deciding to stay at home is a lot better than being left at home. Word.