Who am I?

I'm Jean Valjean! No, not really. Bahaha--- apparently I've been listening to that soundtrack a bit too much. Ahem. Start over.

Who am I? What type of person am I? What type of friend am I? I've been analyzing these questions a lot lately.

Sometimes I think too much about the relationships in my life, and start seeing myself in a very negative light. The reasoning being simply that so many things have gone sour with so many different people, that it must be my fault. Is it though?

I was talking with a friend today, and I was insinuating that perhaps I was just a bad, non-enjoyable pitiful person, and no one had the guts to tell me so. I compared it to those unfortunate contestants on American Idol who waltz in thinking they're outstanding, when really their friends and family have been lying to them forever to spare their feelings. She wholeheartedly laughed at my scenario, assuring me that I was one of her favorite people, and she wasn't just saying that. What is it then? What?

Well, the answer is awful, but simple. Let's say you're my friend, and you have a situation in which you have to make a decision. Whatever decision you make, the outcome will cause one of your friends to get hurt. 99.9% of the time, these friends choose me to be the one who will get hurt. Why? Well, because I know how to get hurt. I know how to be hurt. I know how to forgive hurt, and I know how to get over it. Bigger things have happened in my lifetime, so it's fair to say that the choice of wounding me would seem far less catastrophic. The hurt you might inflict on the other friend would be something that would rank as something life altering to them, whereas with me... eh... I've been through SO much worse. Go for it. Wound me.

Is that how your mind works? It's the only way I can rationalize it. There is no other way.

I've been a phenomenal friend. That's why they cry to me. That's why they trust me. That's why when they need to talk to someone, they know I will be here. I will always be here. As much as I would like to think otherwise, I doubt that would ever change. I could never ever abandon someone who needed me. That's part of the problem. That's the biggest reason why I'm still here. Stuck. Trapped. Standing still.

I'm the friend who will spend money I don't have on gas for my broken vehicle to drive six hours just to help you clean your house.

I'm the friend who will fight your battles and defend you to the end when someone hurts you.

I'm the friend who will do everything I can to take your hurt away, hold you when you cry, crack jokes until you crack a smile, and talk you through all of your doubts and fears.

I am the friend whom you have trusted with your fantasies.

I am the friend who counts out saved quarters at Wal-Mart to buy yarn to make you a one of a kind gift. 

I am the friend who will listen to your constant complaints about your Mom, even though all I can think about is how fortunate you are to have a Mom to complain about.

I am the friend who is honored that you have chosen me to be your friend. I am honored and grateful, and always here.

I am the friend who as she writes this, is struggling. I am struggling and I am sad. I want to be able to trust like you trust, but I can't. It isn't there. I want to forget all of it, but you remember one thing, and you remember everything. Remember?

"How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart? It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out til you're torn apart."

I tried to let you go once. You cried and begged me not to. You said you didn't want to be let go. I was too important. You loved me too much. It could have been over way back then. It could have ended and you wouldn't have had to feel the doubt and guilt that drove you into silence. It wasn't necessary.

I know I'm holding onto somedays, what-ifs and maybes. What are you holding onto? Why did you hold onto me? What am I giving you that you can't live without? Why am I important? Why do you love me...and why is it different? You love me different.

I'm a light in this world. Jesus told me so. I have spoken words He gave me, and I have changed lives. If that's why you hold on, you know those words were not mine. You don't need me to have Jesus. I got to help Him save you, that's all. He did all the work, I was there. Is that why I'm here? I don't need to be here anymore.

It's so unfair when your mind just dumps out memory after memory after memory. It's a waterfall. How do you stop a waterfall? You don't. It's being endlessly supplied and doesn't look like it's slowing down anytime soon.  I can see and feel every moment, I can smell the rooms and feel the walls. I can see the faces and every speckle on the floor tiles. I remember all of it. Every word, every glance, every whisper. I remember ALL of it. Everything. Not one isolated time, not one event. All of it. Good, bad, up, down-- my mind does not discriminate. Who knew it was all still there? Is it a blessing or a curse? Is this a ramble or an entry? Do I make sense or am I one step closer to decorating the walls of my cell with my own feces? Lovely visual, isn't it? Haha.

It's not up to me. Jesus, just take it all, and take it away. Erase my memory. I wouldn't mind. It would be okay.

Tomorrow is another day.

The human brain is an obnoxious thing. True, it's completely miraculous when you consider the logistics of it. The actual physical brain is phenomenal... but the cycle of thought and emotion manipulation is completely unnecessary.

I have had so many moments of epiphany, and I think "Ah-hah! This is it! I've figured it out! This is why I have felt the way I have, and why it doesn't matter! I am moving beyond this, and I am healthy and I am adjusted, and I am normal."

Then it changes on me... I'm flooded with doubts and insecurities and questions. Why did this happen? Why DIDN'T this happen? Why did they say that? Why didn't they say this? Why am I this person to them one minute, and this person the other? Why was I okay with all of it before, and now I want to scratch out my eyeballs and become a life-long hermit??

I can effectively convince myself that I am exactly who I want to be to each and every person in my life. I can believe that I am where I need to be, and I am truly happy. I can imitate being content without even realizing it's an imitation. I can accept change and roll with it. That is until there's a trigger...

Then I'm instantly transported back to where I thought I had escaped from. I remember everything. Every word, every emotion, every look. I remember how it felt here on the outside. Here from across the street, wondering why I wasn't good enough. Why I'm still not good enough. Why I'll never be good enough.

I believe God orchestrates more than just your future spouse into His plan. He selects friends and loved ones to hold and support you through your life journey. He connects hearts and souls for so many reasons other than Holy matrimony. There are people in my life for a reason. There are people that no matter how much hurt or confusion is introduced through them -- I cannot let go. He attached our very beings, and we're stuck together for good. The tough part to swallow is to realize that their reasons and purposes for being in MY life, are different than my reasons and purposes for being in THEIR lives. That doesn't seem fair... I can't help but feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick in these situations. It sucks.

I know there are reasons for these people. That's for sure... but how do I manage to get rid of this constant nagging feeling that I have to keep pushing to prove myself? Prove that I deserve the same status in their lives that they have in mine? That was OBVIOUSLY not God's plan, but I can't get rid of this feeling. It's been around for over a decade, and I feel like it's eating away my internal organs. It's manifested into an actual physical pain.

There was a group of us in high school. More specifically a trio. That trio became a duo, and I fought for different... fought like a crazy person. Turned a little crazy, actually... it didn't happen. My Mom got sick and the whole world fell off its axis and never got right again. Yes, I know I was 16... but they're all still friends. Just not friends with me.

College happened, not for me... but I am totally okay with that. I wouldn't trade those years I had with my Mom for anything. I know I missed the opportunity of forging the type of relationships I wish I had now, but I had a bigger purpose. I'm honored and positive that it was part of God's plan for me. Now I can handle more than I ever thought possible. Because I handled more than I ever thought possible. Boom.

There have been so many gut wrenching fights and arguments over the years over this tired topic, but I can't help it. It's not going away. We're here for a reason, and we're STILL here for a reason, and it hurts for a reason. You're that important, and I'm just different. I'm a different important. I don't want to be, but I can't change it. Lord knows I've tried. Over, and over, and over, and over again.

I wish His plan would have included a Greta. I don't have a real one. I have bits and pieces in different people, so I put them all into one person. A fictional person. Having written Granted for my own amusement in the first place, it was like I had a secret friend. The friend I envied, the beautiful friend. But she was also snarky and witty, and never let Talie get away with F.I.N.E. They had sleepovers and shared all their secrets. When there was a death in the family, Greta was there, banging down the bathroom door when Talie was sobbing in the shower. I didn't have a person like that at all. Sometimes it's a crushing weight to realize just how badly I wish my fiction were my reality. Not just because of the handsome Wish Giver... ha. Because everyone deserves a Greta. I feel like I've been a Greta. On-call Greta. Just not the gorgeous and continuously sought after part. I'm not that.

Everything was great. I thought. We had come full circle. I thought. It was my turn. I thought. Well, Lord. We know what your plan for me in these relationships ISN'T... so if you could, I would love to see what it IS.

This is my prayer.

Over and out.

I'm moving to Canada.

I wish...

A friend of mine made a very compelling argument the other day, as to why Canada would be a great idea. I disagreed with exactly none of it. It would be remarkable... I would get to start over. A new place, new friends, new surroundings, new COUNTRY. (Not to mention free health care.) The pictures he showed me were nothing short of my own personal paradise. I would happily live in Canada.

God can give very clear indications of his will for you. A lot of times that path travels directly alongside that of another person. This is what I was shown. This is what I believe. This is what I am working towards. The problem comes when your interpretations of God's timing and God's will are different than those whose path is meant to become one with yours. How do you deal with that? How do you convince someone of your own personal truth, when they have their own as well?

I'm letting doubt come visit a little too often these days, but it's so easy to do when you find yourself in seclusion. There are few souls to confide in completely, at least as far as available souls are concerned. If Dodger could talk, oh the stories he'd tell...

I feel like I'm a yo-yo. Jerked around a little bit in too many different directions. Yes, no, maybe, true, false, undecided, wait, go, jump, sit still, listen, talk, do, don't.. maddening. Simply maddening. It would be one thing if it was coming from one source, but no. There are multiple people yanking my yo-yo string. Knock it off.

"I'm lost. I'm a lost toy!"

I need a plan. There is a lot of mental health that can stem from hope. I know God has a plan, but I also know that he's not just going to drag me. I have to do the walking. So often I hear of people talking about God's will and God's timing... all of this is relevant. However I also feel as if some people view that as an excuse. "If God wants it to happen, it will." Yes, sort of. God gave me the gift of writing. Hopefully His plan for me is to be a writer. It very well could be. However... if I never wrote anything, his plan would not come into fruition. We have our share of work to do. We can't just sit there and wait for things to happen. It doesn't work that way.

God can build us a boat, put it in the water, point it in the right direction, but we have to row it ourselves. This is also why he gave us free will. Yes, he has a very specific plan for each of us. This is why he truly rejoices when we actually follow it. FOLLOW it. That means moving. Not waiting.

No more waiting, Corrie. It's time for you to get a life and live it. LIVE! God wants you to LIVE! Why else would he have created you? To sit at home and watch Castle on DVD? Unlikely.

Hope is powerful, and it's easy to fall into hopelessness. It's easy to feel like you're on your own and have no human support. Even if it's true, it doesn't mean it has to STAY true.

Step one, get out of Dad's house. It's toxic and it's killing me. Both physically and metaphorically. I entered with good intentions, but he's not interested in improving anything. I would go on to list other steps, but step one is the biggest hurdle to get over. If I can figure out how to do that, I'm on my way!

The biggest barrier to successfully completing step one is $$$$$$$. Of course. Having been denied individual health care, while having my share of health problems, you can imagine that seeking healthcare comes with a pretty hefty price tag. As much as I tried to pretend that I did not need medical attention, I was forced to relent. I chose to not die, and that's going to cost me. Boo.

I need solid, reciprocated relationships. I need a very sturdy foundation. I've failed repeatedly at establishing these things in the past, so I really need to make that happen. I don't think of that as a step so much as a necessity. I need to be on the same page with people, instead of reading two separate books. You are this person to me, and I am this person to you. There is no gray area or fair weather anything. Only truth. None of the... "you are this person to me for the time being, but that will change. It has changed, and it will change again. I have real people for that." Most people have permanent people fixtures, but I do not. Not yet. I will.

I need to be able to free my mind from worry and simply create. God created me, and he created creativity, and I'm grateful for the words I constantly have floating around in my head. Pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. They must come out and tell their stories.

I have stories to tell, places to see with my own eyes, and people to fall in love with. I'm supposed to be far too busy to sit still. God's list of awesome opportunities is ready, and I plan on snatching it up and running. I don't think it's running away if you're running toward your mountaintop. He has it all ready up there... He knows. I promise I won't take any shortcuts, but it's not as far away as I've been lead to believe.

Time to go.

Here's the problem;

I place too much importance on things that shouldn't be important. Instead of focusing on who I am NOT to the people around me, I have to remove them from that role in MY life. Stop assuming equal importance and therefore remove the constant disappointment when you are served with the reminder that you are not held in the same place. You are not equal.

Remove all expectations, and you can't get hurt. Right... well,  it's nice to think about anyway.

The only people you can count on are Jesus, and yourself. Another way to avoid hurt and disappointment.

There was a story written about me recently, and my personal battle with the devil, and how I don't accept Heavenly help when I should. It's not wrong. Would it be extreme then to suggest, that I leave all other help out of the equation? Eliminate friendships that always bring hurt? Bypass the constant urge for human companionship?

If all of the things I've been shown are true, then there is one person who God has chosen for me. Through that choice I would be brought into an altogether different environment, with different people. Perhaps I'm meant to start over. Maybe I've strayed so far off the path he had intended for me, that the only way to get to where I need to be is with a clean slate. Completely clean, fresh and new. No expectations. No pasts, only beginnings.

Wishful thinking or Heavenly guidance? I'm not sure yet.

Time to pray.

It's truly unfortunate.

Once the shadows find their way in, it's nearly impossible to get them out. It's a long process, and eventually you can lessen the pain, but in all reality, they never really go away.

You try not to think about it. You try to just deal with it the best way you know how. The only people I can realistically turn to are trained professionals that I can't afford. Who can you lay all of this on? No one who isn't getting paid for it. They don't know how to handle it. They just don't.

I can explain myself until I'm blue in the face, but until you've actually been there, which you hopefully never will be, you will never be able to understand. You will feel like you are walking on eggshells, you will be afraid of insulting or offending me. The truth of the matter is, is that you probably will. There's no way around that. People say and do stupid things when they don't understand. I'm guilty of this as well.

I haven't processed most of the things I should have processed by now... if there is such a thing as a 'should have' scale as far as these things are concerned. There are certain areas in situations that are so incredibly sensitive, and I don't want to waste my moments on those things. I don't want to waste breath on explaining things to people who can't comprehend them. To most people it would sound silly or ridiculous. In all honesty, most of these scenarios sound just as stupid to me, which is that much more enraging when I get trapped into one of those situations. Even I am at a loss for words when it happens, because it's just that awful...

I wanted it to be different. It's hard to compete with two people who have the same career and thousands of happy memories, when my individual memories with half of the duo are strained at best. There is heartache, and there is pain. As much as I try to move past everything, it's still there.

They talk about plans that I'm not a part of, weddings I will be in the shadows of, and there is a constant battle going on inside of my head. "I just don't understand why I didn't make the cut," says one half, while the other is "It's such an honor to be included at all, let alone invited!" Which side wins? Your guess is as good as mine. It's eating me alive. I have no control, so there's even a third part of me that wants to control SOMETHING, and withdraw myself from all of it. Say thanks but no thanks, and walk away. Disappear. "I wish I could fly, and magically appear and disappear. I wish I could fly... I'd fly far away from here." It's not something they understand. I know.

I will never be the person I want to be to the people I want to be that person to. It's just the truth. Swallow it, accept it, get over your envy and constant insecurity and deal. You're not her. You never will be. You are not that person to anybody.

I've discovered that I handle myself and other people better when it's just one on one. I get along with individuals. Especially when it is two or people who are pretty great friends, because I'm the newbie. I don't have a lot of long term friendships, so I'm usually the latest addition. Which then translates into them doing a whole lot of talking to each other, and I listen... because I have nothing to contribute to the conversation about what all of your college classmates have been up to. It's so isolating. Mayhaps I should avoid these situations. You would think I would have learned my lesson by now. Truth is, I'm positive they are completely unaware as to how much they talk to only each other. They have no idea. They have catching up to do. And I'm just there. *sigh* Whine, whine, whine.

I thought I had been clear enough about my shopping problems. I don't have a single shopping memory without Mom in it. I thought I had been forward, and thorough. I thought. I explained my shortcomings. I explained my hesitance. I did not, however, explain my department store induced panic attacks. I did not explain that I see her head in every store I go into. I did not explain the hallucinations and chest crushing emotion. Why? Because I can't even say the words out loud without falling apart. I don't let myself cry. I hate feeling out of control. I hate feeling vulnerable. I don't need you to fix me, I need you to accept me and my limitations. They did not do that...

I know Lauren didn't know. She's never seen that side. She didn't know my Mom. The panic set in and I had three options. I could count letters, tiles and signs...anything to keep my mind busy. I could do a pain distraction, but after two deep scars on my arm, I'm pretty sure that method doesn't work anymore. The third was to find a focal point and tune out. Anything to avoid what was happening in my head. How could I come out and talk about that? In all truth...she's a stranger to those emotions. She didn't understand. She still doesn't. She wanted to make new memories, but I don't. I want Mama in those memories forever. Shopping was her, and I only did it with her, and I only WANT to do it with her. I realize that's not possible, but it doesn't change what I want. Rome wasn't built in a day.

I wasn't acting the way she wanted me to. She didn't know why, and I didn't explain. I don't know how to explain. I upset her, and she didn't hold back her intention of letting me know that. She was straight forward. I wasn't.

Lauren didn't know, but Nikki did. She didn't defend me. She didn't say a word. I was on my own. The panic got me, and then I told the truth. There was no one there to hold my hand, there was no one there to defend me and explain my actions. As my ears burned with the sounds of Nikki's silence, I realized no such person existed. That was the end of me. Maybe she doesn't know me like I thought...maybe she didn't know.

That's when the shadows got in. Lauren apologized, I apologized, but it's not okay. I'm not okay. It's not fair that I have to deal with these things. Tough cookies...life isn't fair. Nikki had followed me out of the store, and she said she knew exactly why I reacted the way I had. She said she knew...then why didn't she help me?

We drove back to the house, and the shadows were pulling me further and further away. I could feel myself slipping. At first I was unwilling. Then as Lauren and Nikki talked to each other about people I didn't know, Lauren decided it would be good timing to talk about a friend whose Mom had just died, and the funeral she attended. Then I went with the shadows willingly, because I didn't want to be there. I let my mind go, and my heart went with it.

We made bread pudding. It was good. Nikki and I drove home. We never spoke about any of it. My goodbye to Lauren was awkward at best, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into my own bed and hug my dog, because his compassion is unfaltering. Animals are so much safer than people. I give him my whole heart every single day. The drive was strained, as all of the energy had completely left my body. I couldn't sing along to music, I could barely keep my eyes open. The shadows were winning, and I was comforted by that.

The next day I didn't shower. I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't change out of my pajamas. I wandered aimlessly and then took myself to a movie. There were tears on and off throughout the day, because the gate was forced open, and it takes a long time to close.

I went to Jesus with as much as I could, and I prayed as much as I could manage, before the words stopped. Words get stuck so easily, but not here. I can write it all here. I'm so grateful God hears prayers spoken and unspoken, because he knows what I was trying to convey. He knows what I need. He knows how to help me.

I wanted arms around me, but not just any arms. I don't accept comfort well, mostly because I do a very good job of portraying someone who doesn't need comfort of any kind. I've got it together. I'm strong. I'm good. I have it handled. I don't need your help. I'm a liar. In the past, I had told people very deliberately that I've needed them, and they ran for the hills. Why would I put myself through that again? I can't. I won't. Which is why when you ask, I am perfectly fine. I promise.

Jesus and His words provide great comfort, but God has instilled within us a need for Human compassion, interaction, companionship, and comfort. I wish I didn't need that, but I do. Fortunately a good chunk of it is covered by my doggie.

When I got home, I had this vision in my head of confiding in my Dad what had happened, how I had felt, and him comforting me and telling me he loved me. He was asleep in his chair. This is his typical state, so I went to bed instead.

When I was in the parking lot, I texted Kelly. I am so blessed to  have sisters who have the same problems. We all cry in changing rooms. I told her what had happened, and she confirmed my reaction, saying she would have done the exact same things. Thank GOD for KELLY, because there are so many times I use her as an anchor to make sure I'm not crazy. If I am crazy, she is too... and there is a great amount of comfort in that. She also doesn't shy away from telling me if she thinks I've overreacted. This is good.

Last night I let myself cry for approximately 45 seconds before I squashed it down again. I feel like if I let it continue, I won't be able to stop, and I will fall into a deep dark hole, and I refuse to go there again. "Catch me I'm falling...catch me I'm falling...faster than anyone should. Catch me I'm falling...catch me I'm falling...catch me I'm calling for good."

Do you know me?

Thanksgiving. I gave thanks, as I have much to be thankful for. I recognize and embrace each of these blessings, and I give the glory to God, and I reflect on every little gift he's given me. But I still can't shake this feeling.

I am on the brink of something amazing. I can feel this anxious anticipation bubbling up in my abdomen at least once a day before I squelch it. Why am I pushing it down? Probably because I keep thinking we are not to be anxious for anything.

It's so hard to keep good things inside. I have no problem whatsoever doing that with the bad. It's the good that gets tricky. I want to say everything that pops into my head, and I can't. I have to be guarded. I have to wait. God's timing. In HIS time. Yes, yes...

Here comes the annoying part. I am patiently awaiting God's timing for everything the very best I can, and yet... I feel like it's already HERE! He decided the who, the what, and the why. He showed me everything I needed to know. Still we wait. *sigh*

I want to dote and gush and give, but instead I wait in the background. I can't do too much, say too much. I can't push. It feels like if I do too much in any one direction, I will accidentally break something. I feel like I'm in a crowded gift shop, and I'm shoved into the 'breakable collectibles' corner. I feel like if I even breathe too loudly something will crumble. I can't even move. I want to move.

It's a lonely place to be, trapped here in this corner. All the shoppers are busy picking out the perfect gift. I'm guarding an arsenal of happily-ever-afters, but... I can't buy them yet. Or maybe it's that I've already purchased them, and they're gift wrapped, and I've hidden them away, and now I wait. I wait, I wait, I wait. It's not time yet. That's the PERFECT metaphor. All of these gifts that I have to wait to give. There are so many. So so many.

Here's a question. Am I ready to receive? Yes. Yes, I am. I hang on every positive syllable. I revel in each slip and indication of a hint of a promise. They're there, right under the surface. You can't help but compare it to before. Ah yes, then. Everything was easier then. Everything was simple, exciting, and new. My biggest concerns were the uncertainties, and my own self doubt. Now there aren't any uncertainties. I already know how I'm viewed. I don't need to wonder. I just need to wait.

I'm incredibly human sometimes. You add being female on top of that, and it's just a recipe for disaster. I know all the truths. I know what will happen -- eventually. Try to explain that to my female humanity... it's nearly impossible. I still want the words, the assurances, the fun stuff. Faith is hard sometimes.

Oh well. I know what I know, and I know that if I can remember to remember it, I'll be okay. I know it.

Things get slippery. Do you know what I mean? Well, I know what I mean, and I suppose that's all that matters. Ha.

It's almost as if you find your footing on top of a mountain, and you're just about to straighten your back and enjoy the view, and you realize that the top of the mountain is covered in ice, and down you go. You reach out frantically to hold onto a rock or tree as you slide down, but everything pulls out and falls with you. This is discouraging, to say the least...because if the ground is cold enough for it to be covered in ice, it should be solid enough for tree roots to not pull out of it. Whatever. You're falling. You should concentrate on that...

I had so many things and people to hold onto, and I was just about to stand up straight and take it all in, and now... ice. The bright side? I will stop falling eventually. Sooner or later, I will reach the bottom. Hopefully I won't suffer too many injuries. Or, you know... die. Nah, I'm a survivor. Chances are, the things I was holding onto for support before, are already at the bottom, waiting to catch me. That's a comforting thought.

Ow. My head hurts.

I think I get excited, and then I hold on too tightly. Lennie from "Of Mice and Men" comes to mind... "I'm gonna love him and keep him and squeeze him..." Dead mouse. That's it... I've killed them all. I've loved them to death. Suffocation. Dang it. Well... tough. I love on purpose with purpose. Deal with it.

I can't control everything, and I really need to learn to let go of some things, but other things... I really don't think I should let go of them. I think that would be a very bad idea. I don't know. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy. I'm going to be a great parent someday, because I already know all about the tough love and setting boundaries. Sweet. You know what? I've spent far too long parenting my parents. I wonder what it would have been like to have been a kid for as long as most people.

I know I had it better than many, but I don't know any of the people who had it worse, so it's hard sometimes to keep things in perspective. That's why I write, I suppose. That way I don't sound heartless and self involved in reality. I get it all out in rants and written whispers. Throw myself a literary pity party... it helps, it really does. It doesn't necessarily solve any problems or make anything better, but it does help. It helps me breathe.

*sigh*

I hate it when people cancel plans. I hope their reasons are better than mine. When I cancel, its usually because I'm too busy hiding from the world. Hmmm...

I am in the worst kind of mood. The kind of mindset that in no time has you believing that you are someone to nobody, and nobody to everyone. The only people who want to be around me are the people I can't be around. Make sense? Hardly.

I feel like I did what I was supposed to. I became honest and open, and I asked for help when I needed it. It didn't work. At least it doesn't feel like it did. I feel like I had a really strong network for a tiny little second there, and it quickly dissipated the second I wasn't sunshine and happiness.

I hold hands and give hugs and encouragement. I offer endless streams of wisdom and advice, whether it's coming from my own head, or what others have told me in the past. I NEVER run away from people when they need me. I ALWAYS drop everything and exist in whatever way they need me. A friend of mind told me today it's because I have caregiver syndrome. That makes sense. Not everyone lived their teen years with a Mom who had a two toned bell hooked up in the living room. One tone was for Dad, the other for me. I will always spring to action when someone sounds my bell tone...or something like that.

When they were going through the bad times, I was there constantly. When I withdrew to handle my issues on my own like I ALWAYS have, they were concerned. They wanted me to be open and honest, and I was. Now that closeness is gone. That contact is gone. I'm sure I could initiate it, and I'm sure I could force them to talk to me. The whole point though... I'm NOT initiating it. I'm NOT talking. That means something is wrong.

There is a lot wrong. A lot... this isn't how it's supposed to be. You told me it was okay to go there. It was okay to feel it. But I don't think you meant it. You have your own lives and issues, and I knew that. I know this.

Someday it will be my turn. I told you I needed you. You don't have time. But... I told you. You can't say I didn't. Someday. One day!!

I tried to make things work that can't. It's all over now. Now we move forward, and we grow. We become who we were always meant to be. We take our sorrows and our mistakes, and we dig through them until we find the blessings within the ashes, and then we praise. Oh yes, we praise! I had such a huge mountain of JOY take me over. But I can't hide forever. It's nice and warm in the sunlight, but eventually night has to come back. You have to get through the dark to see the light again. It's just the truth... it's so much easier to find kindred in the sunshine, isn't it? It is. It truly is.

The following is nothing other than a rant. A tribute to the 'woe is me' moments that swallow me every once in awhile. These things are so trivial, but still... they exist.

I've previously lamented the fact that I will never be included in another person's wedding. I was in Sunnie's, and I was in my cousin Melissa's. I look at pictures of all of the friends who have gotten married, and they tell me it isn't a very big deal, but that's because they've never been without it. I've never had a friend close enough to want to include me in their biggest day. Yes... that's a big deal to me. Helping with a wedding, yes. I am put to work. This too is an honor. It's just different. You know what I mean. I want to stand with them in their wedding photos that they will have for the rest of their life. I want to wear the dress and hold the flowers. I just want to be a part of it. I don't care if it's stupid to admit that. It's just true.

To be fair, when everyone was of the age where they were forming those long lasting bonds of friendship, I was dealing with things that were well beyond their level of comprehension. What would I want to say to the people who tell me it doesn't matter? You have no idea how great it feels to be something to someone, when you've spent far too long being nothing to everyone. True, the "nothing" is a mere feeling, but it's a feeling not without a substantial amount of circumstance to back it up. I want so badly to be declared that important to someone. I know I'll never be a maid of honor, because... I'm just not that person to anyone. I didn't even make the cut for Sunnie's wedding. People who have had that honor view it as almost nothing. They just don't get it. To have that validation of importance to someone you really love...that would be remarkable.

It's a very loose comparison, but take for example God's desire to have us declare our love for Him proudly and openly. Praising in private comes across as being ashamed. Like I said, loose comparison, because I'm not God. Not even close. But I can understand wanting to be loved out loud.

It feels good... I would imagine :)

You know what I love about blogging? I never have to explain myself...

My next complaint. I see people who have gone through hard times who have been adopted into other families. They had nowhere to go, and were welcomed with open arms, and still maintain a family like relationship with all involved. Why didn't that happen for me? Why didn't anyone recognize my need for that and take me in? People who call me their best friend? I am a stranger to their families. That makes zero sense. Boo. It's because I was too strong. Crap.

I remember when my Aunt Ruthie told me that. Everyone had been taking care of everyone else, but when it came to me, I was on my own. When I asked her why, she said "Corrie, you have always been so strong. You took care of everyone. I never in a million years thought that you would need me." Well, shoot. That just plain sucks.

And why do people tell me to tell them things, and then when I tell them things, they say "I don't know what to say." Well, then! Just be like everyone else and live in the fantasy world where absolutely nothing is wrong with me and stop asking questions. Please and thank you.

I'm sure there are other things I can needlessly complain about, but... seeing as how I am at work and have to start closing, I can be done with my ridiculous ramble. For now.

While walking to work today, I let my mind go there. I let my mind wander to where I never let it visit, and it was all still right there. It was still waiting. I always think that I have processed through all of it, but that never seems to be the case. The truth is, I've barely touched it. It's too overwhelming to even think about. The very second I let my brain travel to that place, I can feel panic bubble up inside of me, and my breathing immediately becomes erratic, my eyes darting everywhere looking for something to hold onto. I squelch it as quickly as possible, take a deep breath, slam that door shut and run.

From where I am now, I know God is there completely and he and I should be able to handle this. God has told me repeatedly that I need to feel the pain so that I can process the pain. You can't handle what you ignore, and things like this need to be handled.

The ultimate downside, is that since I have put it off for so long, to most people it all seems to have lost its relevance. It was years ago, right? Yes, it was years ago. I have found great joy in so many things lately, and so my irrational fear is that actually dealing with the past will eliminate that joy.

My Mom loved to talk. She had a warning about everything. Some things made more sense than others. She cautioned me about buying anything full price, she made sure I knew the value of housework, she limited my food intake...but then there were some very good lessons, the biggest of these was to constantly be mindful of whether or not you are giving the devil a foothold.

For awhile I thought that God was the one who was preventing me from revisiting those dangerous memories. I got the impression that no good could come from it,  and in order to experience true healing, I would have to adopt the mentality that it had never happened. That way, I could move on. I could forgive. I could let go of all of the hurt, anger and resentment. That belief has changed recently. I have been spending so much time with Jesus lately, and I am feeling a stronger and stronger push to open that door. It's terrifying.

I talked to my Dad about it one time several weeks ago. It's such a daunting idea to go back there. There are so many things crammed behind that door. I wanted to open it and talk to my Dad, but he was too ready to agree that it should remain closed. I began trying to share a memory or two, and Dad cut me off, stating simply "I know what you mean. If I were to ever open that door, I would start screaming and I would never stop." It's moments like those when I feel like I can't talk to anyone. There's always something else going on that they need to concentrate on. Everyone has pain, and who am I to think that my pain merits their attention? I'm so much better at caring for others and helping them. I'll just keep helping them. So, instead of opening up to Dad, I let him talk. "Why do you say that? How are you now? I love you so much. I'll be here for you." he cries, he thanks me, I remain the steadfast, the strong, the dependable. I don't cry. Not anymore.

I know the ultimate comforter is God. I know Jesus is holding me constantly. But God wouldn't have instilled a need for human love and companionship if he didn't desire those connections for us. He wants us to love, lean on, and fellowship with each other. This is why there are friendships and marriages. Yes, God is with us ALL the time, but he also wants us to be with each other. Where two or more are gathered...

The other day, Nikki came to my house in tears. Her fiance had just departed for Nepal, and they don't know when they will be able to speak again. He will be gone until next year. I held her, and my immediate thoughts were how honored I was that she had picked me to cry to. She had trusted me enough to fall apart in my arms, and she knew that I would comfort her and do whatever I could to make her feel better. I would read her scripture and crack jokes and hold her. She knew I would do that for her. She knows I love her. The best part, is that I have the honor of fulfilling that role for all of the loves in my life. The problem, however, is that I have no one to go to when I need to be held, comforted and reassured.

There are several people who would start quite the argument after that statement. What they don't realize, of course, is that they would be contending with a multitude of evidence to the contrary. There were ten years of constant distance. The worst things in my life were happening when life was just starting out for everyone I cared about. The endless strings of conflicting thoughts and emotions took immediate control of my thoughts, my speech, my actions. I was barely a person.

I'm not ready to talk about everything that happened when she was dying. I'm not ready to go there. Even skimming the surface of those memories has my chest in pain. I was talking to BJ recently and made a reference to how certain memories have haunted me, and he immediately squashed that statement. He reminded me to focus on the good. When I told him about how my Mom's eyes opened for the first time in two days right before she died, and then my hand was over her heart when it stopped beating... I said that haunts me. I don't mean haunt in a bad way. I mean it's something that will stay with me forever. Yes, I got to look into her eyes one last time. Nobody else did. I was alone there. Yes, I got to feel her leave and go to Heaven. But I also had to feel my Mama's heart stop. How can you only focus on the good when it's so breathtakingly sad that she's not here with me?

I am given many platitudes about how my Mom is always with me. She's in my heart. She didn't leave me, etc etc etc. Regardless of whether or not those statements are true, we're not watching sitcom reruns in her room eating mashed potatoes at midnight. She's not stealing apples from the apple orchard trees and stuffing them in my purse. *I have to stop the memories. I'm at work and this is too hard*

There were two friends who came to the hospital. Christine Morrison, who adopted me as her own child, and Jessi Campbell. Several of Kelly and Sunnie's friends came. I know everyone was busy, I know grades and careers were on the line. But I also know that I was in more pain than I can even comprehend.

The funeral. Those same two friends were there. That was it. I kept looking at the door, and I couldn't figure it out. I had been an amazing friend to everyone I knew. At least I thought I had. There's a reason that so many people trusted me to hold them, comfort them, love them. Why weren't they there to hold me? Why was I alone? I found out later that my boss at Caribou had told the entire staff that if any of them (I was good friends with the entire staff) wanted to attend the funeral to support me, he would get coverage from other stores. None of them came. They didn't want to lose their hours or tips. One of my best friends, Ellie, two years later said "In retrospect, I probably should have been there for you." Yes. You probably should have.

Several weeks after the funeral, we had a bridal shower for Sunnie. Nikki was coming. Nikki has always been one of the busiest people I know. She hadn't been able to come to the funeral, as she was very busy in school. I don't mean to downplay this. I understand and embrace the situation she was in, but my heart can't let it go. She should have been there.

As we walked up the driveway to the friends house where the shower was being held, Sunnie's mother-in-law to be pulled me aside and lectured me. "You don't look happy, and I need you to get over it and be happy for your sister. She is getting married and her Mom just died. She is really going through a hard time and we need to make these next few weeks all about her, okay?" I'm not sure how, but everyone that I was seeing on a consistent basis had come to the conclusion that I was not the least bit upset over the fact that my Mom had died. They waved away the fact that I had been her solitary caretaker and companion for the past four years.

I was placing too much emphasis on the fact that Nikki was actually going to be there. I had been storing up all my tears to cry to her like she had always cried to me. I hadn't cried at the funeral, because I had to make sure that everyone else was okay. I hugged who needed hugging, I made jokes to those who looked too sad. I would fall apart later. She would come to town, she would hold me, and she would say "It's okay to cry Corrie."

We walked into the shower, and I plastered that fake smile on my face. I watched people hug Sunnie, ask her how she was doing. I would watch them hold her when she teared up, and tell her that they loved her. I knew all of those people. They were my friends. Why were they ignoring me? I knew it was her bridal shower, but couldn't they love and support me too?

Nikki arrived. We hugged. She hugged Sunnie, and they all congregated again and asked the same questions. They were standing in a circle, and I was outside of it. All I can remember after that is the panic. The panic brought on by Nikki announcing how busy she was that weekend and that she was so glad she had the time to come to the shower. She had a family gathering directly following the so-called festivities, and my heart broke and shattered into a million pieces. She forgot to remember me. I must have done something wrong. She knew what had happened. She couldn't be there, no. But she was here now. But she couldn't be there for me. She was there for her. It wasn't my time yet. I had to push it away. Relief was almost there, but I had to say no. I left. I started walking. I was shaking. I called my brother, he came and picked me up. He didn't ask me questions, and I didn't cry. I felt like throwing up. He took me home, and I stayed there alone.

Nikki and I exchanged emails, but instead of anything getting better, it turned into an argument that later transformed into walls and distance that would take almost three years to break down. I don't know if it's gone yet though, because I still can't tell her everything. I still can't get past the anger. I can't understand why she didn't think of my needing her. I had heard so many stories of all of her college friends who had gone through horrible things and she would take care of them. "I'll call you tomorrow, or next week sometime. My roommate is having a panic attack and she needs me..." Years later a lot of those misunderstandings would dissolve into complete irrelevance, but I was so confused then. I need you too, I would think.

Her friend's Dad died in Texas. She went to the funeral. I know I KNOW exactly why she couldn't be here for Mom's. She knew my Mom for ten years, and she should have been there, but realistically could not be. I get so mad at my brain when it dwells on things that neither of us had control over.

It's not just Nikki either. It's everyone. When my Mom first got sick, everyone scattered. I'm happy to say I think I'm over that time period. We were all so young. Fifteen and sixteen years old. I remember how my brain worked before she got sick, so I'm aware of their thought processes. I know that if anyone had a real problem, I would instantly transform my teenage angst into something that would be more worthy of attention. Drama creation, after all, is a skill that nearly every single female teenager thrives at.

This is the part that drives me nuts. Nikki had been a part of that group of kids who couldn't handle it. Why did I throw so much need and expectation onto her then? Why did I insist that she was the only person I could have talked to? Because she wasn't in this world with me, that's why. She was my link to the outside. She was traveling and meeting the best friends she would ever have, and I wanted her to take me with her. I wanted to matter so much to her, so that she would hold onto me, and not leave me at the bottom of the well. I was so jealous of her new friends. I viewed them as my replacements, and automatically assumed she was better off. They were so much better than me because they wouldn't be bringing her down with dying parents and depression. They would travel with her and post pictures of beautiful smiles. They would distract her from my melancholy and take her away forever. I would have given anything to have been a friend someone met at college.

Those years where people meet the friends they'll have for the rest of their lives, I was doing something no person my age should be doing. I saw and lived through one horrific thing after another. I didn't know how to handle it. I ended relationships that I never should have ended. Why? To spare them. Sounded poetic, I suppose. Sacrifice myself for the sake of others. Then what did I do? Complain that they left me? Right. Makes sense.

Recently I have been "off". This has happened more times than I can count. When sadness grabs me, I usually withdraw for several days, regroup and deal with it, then reappear. I'm not used to people noticing. I've been blessed with a close knit network just within the last two months. How amazing is that? People I touch base with nearly every day, and they actually notice when something is wrong. I'm not used to this at all. I'm not used to people worrying about me. I'm not used to it, because when I was really obvious about things being wrong and needing people, nothing happened. So backwards.

There wasn't one specific thing that made me sad. I've been sick for a long time, so I think being over tired has made me over emotional. It's when you're weak when it happens. It's what my Mom had always warned me about, giving the devil a foothold. He has grabbed the loophole and ran with it, and it's taken a lot out of me. I'm exhausted.

Nikki's fiance left, and she is beside herself about it. She cries, and I find myself thinking... you almost know what it feels like to miss someone that deeply. You're feeling it. I want to cry with her, but then I think... he's coming back. You will get him back. She's not coming back to me. Then I feel resentful. Then I get angry. Not with Nikki, no...with myself. That's not fair, Corrie. This is different. That's not fair.

Jerry is gone, and so I tell her I have all the time in the world to be there for her. My Mom died and nobody had that time. I get upset over the facts, then upset that I'm upset. So, I hide until I can rationalize myself into understanding that I'm being ridiculous. But am I? I am honored that people tell me about their problems. It's just too hard to not draw the comparisons sometimes.

I don't want to be my sister. I don't know how to tell people what's bothering me without sounding like my sister. Whenever a friend would come to her with a problem, she turned it into something about herself instead. "Well, at least your Mom didn't die of cancer..." Really??? That's terrible. But how can I relate to people when my worst thing is so much worse than their worst thing? There's always somebody else who has had a worse thing. That's what I always tell myself. I don't want to sound like somebody who doesn't think your worst thing is awful. "Corrie, I am so down. I can't pass this test, and I feel like the world is falling down around me, and my apartment floor is cracking, and I stubbed my toe." What are my options? People seek common souls. "I know how you feel. My world fell apart when my Mom died..." Boom. I win. But I'm not competing, I swear. They didn't offer to make ME feel better, they wanted comfort. Oops, oops. Don't talk about it, don't talk about it, don't talk about it. Okay. So I don't. I never do. But I need to.

I never have talked about it, really. When I do, I stick with the surfacy basics. It's when I start talking about how I felt during all of the different moments when I lose it. I talk really fast if I ever talk about any of those moments. That breakdown I was saving for Nikki? It's not just for Nikki. I just need a witness. A person to sit with me, pray with me, and help me express every emotion I have hidden so that it doesn't leak out in grocery stores. Or the mall at Christmas time. What is it about a shopping mall at Christmas time now? UGH! Gets me every time. Christmas is hard.

I have expressed my inability to feel and process emotion like a normal person. I guess I was never normal when it comes to emotions. I have actually attempted to schedule a breakdown. "Let me know when you have time..." that's insane. Who does that? I do. Because, like my Dad... I'm so scared that if I open that door alone, I'll start screaming and never stop.

There were wonderful moments when my Mom went to Heaven. She told me about the colors and the angels. But there was horror too. There was a lot of blood, gasping for air... badness all around. It can't all be good. Even Jesus cried. The Bible says so. Jesus wept. There is pain, there is sorrow, there is healing. I'm needing the healing part.

I have amazing support, but I don't know how to accept it now. Nikki and I have discussed recently that I'm "back". It's true for the most part. Joy is no longer eluding me, and I can hear God in so many things loud and clear. Those friends of hers that I had always felt threatened by? Turns out one in particular wasn't my replacement, she was my soul mate. We're so very similar, so in a way I'm flattered that Nikki chose someone so much like me to be her best friend. The three of us have more fun together than any three people should.

I think that were I to ever tell ANYONE everything, they wouldn't be able to handle it. It's so sad. I would undoubtedly sob, and they would instinctively feel guilty for not having been able to be there when it all happened. Nikki says I'm back now. Talking about the past would make me go away for a bit. Would they go away too? It's almost worth keeping it all to myself if it means keeping them. When I lived in Alabama, I was so low that no one wanted to be around me. I don't want to be there again. BJ mentioned that I need to give it ALL to God. Makes sense... if it ALL goes to God, does that mean I don't give any to my friends and loved ones? That's what I've been trying to do, but I must be doing something wrong, because...it's all still there. I thought I gave it all to Him, but...ta-da! Boomerang grief. That's not fair. Comes back and hits you right in the face when you least expect it.

It's so strange to me that sadness and joy can exist at the same time in the same person. BJ pointed out that I went from needing a lot of support to giving ALL of the support, and that those are two very different extremes. Yes. I agree. I may have needed a lot of support, but I didn't exactly get what I needed, so I stopped needing it. Or at least that's what I convinced myself of.

To sum up this novel... I got sick, I got weak, I got sad. I was bombarded with all sorts of memories. I couldn't share them without over-sharing, which in the past has led to discomfort and distance. So, I withdrew, but not without people noticing. I told them I was fine. For the most part, it wasn't a lie. I want to tell them everything, but how can I do that, when I can't even think it to myself?

*sigh*

LONGEST. RAMBLE. EVER.

Today has been an amazing day. Amazing in spite of the fact that it is my third day in a row of working open to close. Amazing because amazing things happened, and I just haven't felt this happy in a long time.

I suppose the amazing part began last night. I wrote and wrote enough to actually send out a chapter update to my test readers, of book two in my trilogy. "Haunted" is well on its way!

I woke up this morning to a great review from one of my readers, instant good mood. Then I bounced a few emails back and forth, played with some puppies, went to work. THEN!

I spent three hours doing something I have been wanting to do for sooooooo long. I had been craving it for so long, it felt like I was starving. I can't even begin to describe how amazing it was.

It's funny, but I think I'm actually too happy to write anything in here right now. Weird, huh??? Bye for now!!

"Who Am I Living For?"

I can feel a phoenix inside of me

As I march alone to a different beat

Slowly swallowing down my fear

I am ready for the road less traveled

Suiting up for my crowning battle

This test is my own cross to bear

But I will get there

It's never easy to be chosen, never easy to be called

Standing on the front line when the bombs start to fall

I can see the heavens but I still hear the flames

Calling out my name

I can see the writing on the wall

I can't ignore this war

At the end of it all

Who am I living for?

I can feel this light that's inside of me

Growing fast into a bolt of lightning

I know one spark will shock the world

So I pray for a favor like Esther

I need Your strength to handle the pressure

I know there will be sacrifice

But that's the price

Heavy is the head that wears the crown

Don't let the greatness get you down

I can see the writing on the wall

I can't ignore this war

At the end of it all

Who am I living for?

There's that word again. FEAR. It's ruining me! There is very good possibility that I am being presented with the opportunity to re-establish things I thought were long gone. It's highly probable that something I thought I had misinterpreted was actually reality. What's really getting to me, is the possibility that I might be wrong. It's fear.

I'm still as wordy as ever. I can write it all down and tell you the truth and it will be written exactly how I want it to be written. But what if it isn't read the way I want it to be read? I don't know how to explain myself.

Faith and trust aren't as easy as I would like them to be. It's an easy enough concept. Trust in the Lord your God with all your heart. Faith is not believing that God can, it is knowing that he will. All these things I've heard, I've memorized, but I've not yet succeeded in banishing the fear.

All of the things I have experienced, all of the roads I have taken have lead me here. There are moments that I can say without a doubt that I am completely accurate. I know what God has shown me, what he wants for me. But then Satan sneaks in with his doubt poisons. The devil is good at that.

I've changed. I've changed a lot. That's no secret. There's a core of a person that still very much exists, and she hasn't changed much. She's still there. It's the outer layers. They've changed drastically. When I think back just a few years ago, I feel like I am an entirely different person. In most ways, I am.

Faith and trust were very hard to hold onto when my Mom was sick. Everything I thought was permanent was becoming very temporary, and I was frantically searching wherever I could for something/someone to hold onto. Not anymore.

I was raised to strive for purity, and to uphold the many promises that purity entailed. I did not succeed. While I may have many regrets, I know that I was with the right person, just not in the right way. We have been forgiven, and I have adopted my original vows wholeheartedly. I will only ever belong to my husband, and God knows exactly who that will be :)

I'm finding patience to be challenging these days. "I am like a child who hath new robes and may not wear them." -Juliet

Seriously, I feel like I am on 'The Amazing Race'. I successfully completed a mission and found a map that will lead to the big prize at the end. I know what it is and how to get there, but my partner has fallen behind and I have to wait. I'm told repeatedly I have to let them complete the mission on their own, I can't give any hints. It's MADDENING!! He will get here. I know he will.

I was talking to Nikki the other night, and it's pretty amazing talking to someone who has known be throughout EVERYTHING. She has cried with me, fought with me, laughed with me, and really knows the real dirty nitty gritty of EVERYTHING. I was explaining how much things have changed over the last several months, and why, and she was nodding, and happily pumping her fists in the air before dramatically exclaiming how much she had been missing me. I was gone for so long. Now, I'm not only BACK, no... I'm better. New and improved!

I wish I could explain it all. I wish I could express it all! But I can't. I mean, yes...words, I can write them and I can explain. I just simply mean it isn't my job. Joseph didn't believe Mary when she told him. He didn't believe it until God spoke to him in a dream. I can talk and talk and talk but it won't make any difference. He has to see it, and it has to come from HIM. And it will. It will.

Enough babbling for now. For now....yes. Until next time, I pray. I will just pray!!

I used to be really great at recording the mundane day to day of my life. The random goings on that wouldn't particularly be of any interest to anyone other than myself. I don't know if it makes sense that I am lamenting the loss of that ability or not. Hmmm...

It's possible that my every day goings on don't stray too far from ordinary. Each day I get up, go to work, go home, go to bed. I suppose it's that may for the majority of the general public. I suppose what keeps it interesting is what goes on within the mind of the individual. Dreams and aspirations! I've so many of those, it's hard to keep track.

I have always been talented in the area of dreaming. I can disappear into my imagination whenever I want. I used to actually get giddy the prospect of taking a long walk and creating a new story in my head. Oh, the stories I've told myself! They're so great! I create fantastic beginnings. It's the endings that lose my interest. Maybe because there's no such thing as an ending. Life keeps on going. How do you stop telling someone's story? You just get to decide that it's over? Maybe that's why Nicholas Sparks always kills someone off. Otherwise the story would never be satisfied.

I've lived several different stories within my life, too. Some of those stories have endings. In some ways, some of those endings were either actual physical deaths, or deaths of another nature. Either way, they ended. Then there are the stories that haven't ended. Those are the ones that haunt me.

Haunt can sound so negative. I suppose it typically is. There are some things that I want to be haunted by. I don't want to lose them. I don't want to give them up. Haunt away!

Life feels good right now. I don't entirely know how to explain it. I've been receptive to the voice of God for the first time in a very long time, and now everything makes more sense. It's pretty disappointing when you realize that several of the struggles you have faced were your own fault because you weren't listening. You weren't receptive. It's enraging, to be honest.

You can't help but wonder how many things would have been different if I would have figured it all out sooner. As much as I would like to dwell in those thoughts, I've come to the conclusion that God is not the biggest fan of what-ifs and maybes. He's more about the here and now, and here and now he has shown me a few mind blowing things, that I am pretty excited to see come into fruition.

Everything I have ever wanted actually seems POSSIBLE now, which I'll admit has not been the case in years past. There was always something in the way, something hindering me. Some of those things I caused myself, but some I really didn't. God instilled in me a deep devotion to family, so that really isn't something I would have been able to banish from my head.

There's this intense giddy excitement about all of the possibilities that are ahead of me now. It's as if everything is finally falling into place. I've become the woman I need to be to fulfill the plan God has for me. It's pretty awesome! I'm completely me for the first time in...gosh. I don't know how long it's been. I'm not the same person I was, but I am EXACTLY who I need to be. It's comforting. I know who I am, I know what I want, I know what HE wants, and I'm ready. I'm ready for all of it, and I am ready to do whatever it takes.

Even my hair color is me. It's a good feeling. A GREAT feeling. So happy...and terrified...and interested...and curious...and scared...but TRUSTING. Yes. Trust in the Lord always.

I plan on it.

Okay, so maybe I lied a little bit. I've taken a break from the dream for a moment, but that's only because another dream has taken over my focus. It's not a new dream by any means. It's an old dream. It's very much a part of me, and even more terrifying than publication to pursue. I know, that doesn't seem possible. But it is.

There has been something I have been ignoring for far too long. A very large part of me that I somehow managed to successfully banish from my every day life, that I have been severely missing. I can't even begin to explain this... I just hope it all works out.

I was completely honest with myself and others for the first time in about five years, and now I wait. It was very reminiscent of jumping off a cliff, and the fall is taking a lot longer than I expected it to. I thought I would have hit the ground by now, but the ground is taking its time to meet me. Ideally I wouldn't meet the ground at all. I'm hoping for a parachute that I didn't know I had to deploy at the very last minute. Hey... a girl can dream.

I know this is cryptic, but it's not without reason. Hopefully ten years from now I remember what I was talking about. I've been cryptic in past memories, and unfortunately, when going back to re-read this entire blog, I was completely lost. I had no idea what I was talking about back then. I'm thinking this will be different though, because this is pretty much huge.

Here's a hint for my future self. A miracle that began with Scarlett. There you go. You know what that means. So do all the other people that have ever had any part in this miracle of mine. Well, maybe. We will see.

I hope I hope I hope I pray I pray I pray. You know my heart, dear Lord. You know my dreams. You know the plans you have for me, you've told me so. You've shown me what you want for me, and now it's all in your hands. It's completely up to you.

One final thing...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

That is all.

Sometimes I look back at all of these posts and want to start over. It would be really easy to just start completely over... but that's not how life works. That's not even close.

It is really tempting to erase everything too. Again, not a life possibility, so why try to pretend it can happen simply by erasing the things I've written down? Someday I will be happy that I recorded all of it. Someday.

I really need to be a writer. I really need to get that going. I need to make it happen. It's no longer a want, it's a need. I've done enough fantasizing and have incorporated enough mindless babble to last me an eternity. I need this. It will happen. My next entry will be the beginning of me chronicling this process. I will keep it up. I will make it happen. I will frame my pink slips, and keep on going. I will succeed. I will be great. I will be happy. She will be proud... THANK YOU MAMA. She read all of my stories :)

One of the best things to do when you are struggling with your future, is to take a good hard look at your past. Seems to make sense. Right? Right. Well, that's what I've been doing. Looking at my past. Staring at it, really. Looking at it so hard and for so long, I almost feel like the power of my gaze can make it change somehow. I know that isn't possible. Not even a little bit.

I have reevaluated all of my relationships, romantic and otherwise. I have analyzed the underlying motivations to pursue those relationships. I have looked at myself from every angle, and I still come up empty handed. Who am I?

One of the most enraging and yet constant questions I find myself consistently uttering while I lay in bed? Simple. Who would I have been had Mom never gotten sick? Who would I be now? How would things have been different? I suppose that one question of I would have been is so loaded, that it's filled to the brim with millions of other questions. They all stem from that one question though. If Mom never would have gotten sick... IF IF IF IF IF.

It seems so useless to delve into those possibilities, and yet it's what I am constantly consumed with. Every once in awhile, I feel like who I "really" am is sneaking back into my persona. It is finding its way back into my daily routines, fastening itself to my soul. Then in almost the same instant, it's completely vanished. I'm left with the leftovers yet again, trying to figure out if it's gone for good, or if I keep pushing it away.

I remember who I used to be. That's one thing that isn't all that hard to distinguish when I look back at the past. I remember what was important and what I wanted. I remember how I felt. I remember my morals and values. I remember the lessons my parents taught me. I remember how black and white everything appeared to be. There was only one way to live, and I was perfectly happy living that way. Was it because I didn't know any different? Or was it because that was the right way to live? That's where it gets a little hazy. That's when I get confused.

I remember hating myself. I remember being a teenager, staring really hard at the bathroom tiles, searching out their every imperfection, so I could put off looking at my own. I remember fiery arguments with my Mom, which typically served as the precursor for those bathroom staring sessions. I remember feeling worthless, sitting on the bathroom floor, hunched over as I stared at those tiles. I remember trying to cry as quietly as I could, so I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten to me.

I remember so vividly telling myself that someday it would be better. Someday I would be beautiful. Someday my sisters wouldn't hate me. Someday I wouldn't feel like the entire earth was exploding inside of my chest. I remember thinking that I was going crazy. I tired immediately of my Mom's condescending explanations about hormones and teenage emotions. I was convinced I was different. My hurt was real, my thoughts were real.

Everyone has the difficult teenage years, but I am also positive that some have it far worse than others. I refuse to believe that the beautiful girls who taunted me went home to stare at bathroom tiles as they cried. I know they weren't hiding in dark corners writing melancholy poetry. Part of me enjoys the idea that they weren't writing, because they couldn't. They were shallow and far too preoccupied with looks and popularity to ever crack the binding on a notebook.

I remember the good times too. I remember the church musicals, and 'See you at the Pole', and everything that completely enveloped who I was. I was Corrie, the good Christian girl. I was Corrie, the writer. I was Corrie, the theater geek. I was Corrie, the Hanson fan--- who didn't care how many snarky comments followed her down the hallway as she proudly displayed a different Hanson t-shirt for each day of the week. I was Corrie, the sister. I was Corrie, the daughter. I was Corrie, the scapegoat. This was most likely my least favorite title, and yet the most common.

My sisters recognized that I caught the brunt of all chores, verbal assaults, and accusations. I was left home to fend for myself and cover for everyone while they went off and did whatever. I had lists to accomplish. I met with the consequences if they weren't. I was the hermit, and that was a consequence in and of itself. It was almost as if I was being punished for my lack of social standing. I was a shadow, so naturally... I was left in the background.

That's probably what led me to the stage in the first place. It was a place to momentarily step out of the shadows. I found a voice on the stage, and I never let go of it. Sometimes that's a good thing, sometimes that's bad. I've adopted traits of certain characters throughout the years. Namely the humorous ones. I've become a talented story teller, a better writer. I have things to say, and to my complete astonishment, people actually want to listen.

The stage... once a solution, now the problem. How much of me is a character? A facade comprised of dozens of personalities that don't even belong to me? How much of my attitudes, opinions, and views are actually mine? It's maddening to try and figure it all out, it really is.

It does, however, provide an excellent explanation as to why I am experiencing such an identity crisis right now. I suppose I have been for quite some time now. Directly after my Mom died, I feel like I just became whoever I had to be to survive. I was all over the map, adopting a dozen different personalities.

I was different in every single relationship I have ever been in. So completely different. I feel like I am changing again. I just want to stop changing for awhile. I want to see me, I want to see the people around me, and I want to look at them through my own eyes, with my own brain and personality behind those eyes. I don't want to be tainted by influence. It's impossible though. Every person is the person they are, because of the influences they grew up with. I grew up with such great ones. At least for a little while.

I need to figure all of this out. I really really do.

I feel like I am floating. Things happen, and they don't really seem real. It's one big long dream, right?

I wrote two plays recently. I feel accomplished somehow. I'm not making any money off of it, and I'm not doing much else. But I wrote two plays.

I really want to pack up and leave. Sometimes I don't even care where.

I love Dodger. We're going through all this crap together. He's my little love. We're both miserable, but we know it will get better.

The end. For now.

I am so sad. Very, very sad. I don't understand what happened. I don't know how I could lose myself so completely, abandoning who I was and how I saw myself just so I could see myself how someone else saw me.

I didn't like what he saw, therefore I didn't like me. I still don't.

I am so sad.

This is really hard. There are so many things I have grown far too accustomed to. It's too hard to not do certain things. I lay in bed at night, just paging through my contacts list on my phone, trying to think of who to text and start a conversation with. It's really lonely here in my head.

I miss my Izzy bug. She's my little nugget and I miss her nuzzles and noises. I lost Cody and had to give up Izzy. I'm really not good at this.

There were things that weren't right. There are things that aren't right. There are things that can change, and there are things that can't.

I guess I will do what I was always taught. Just give it to God and stop the worry. Pray and stay.

*deep breath*

It should be easy to trust God. My excessive trust issues should not include my heavenly Lord and Savior, and yet... here I am.