December 4th, crazy.

Where can one go at 11 o’clock at night and alone to the world?  I want to say fuck it all I don’t care if anything happens to me, but that’s a lie.  I care because I could go away, but I would miss these poor, lovely people.  So at this time of night and on and on as it goes and I stay awake the church doors close, the home doors close, and I have no money and burning red eyes because the tears have been flowing for hours.

I took a bath to calm myself down, and it didn’t help.  I shaved my legs, imperfectly, because of tears actually clouding my vision.  Does that even happen?  Anyway, I told myself “Don’t mess up the shaving.  Don’t mess up the shaving.  Don’t mess up the shaving.  Don’t mess up the shaving.  Don’t mess up the shaving.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.  Don’t mess up.”  I don’t know how many times I said it to myself but thankfully the water was running so no one could hear my mind break.  No one could.  No one. 

I still want to tear something apart.  I don’t know if that’s a thing.

I sat against my closet doors on the floor because I’ve never sat there before and I wanted to see things differently.  And my room looked different—even more like a prison.  I’m not here because I want to be, I’m just stuck here.  My shelves of books that I once called my friends have betrayed me.  I want to stab them all.  My bookcases and floor looked like yellow wall-paper.  It all wanted to trap me. 

And for all this I’m not even happy.  She was happy creeping around in her yellow wall-papered room, but I’m not anymore.  I can’t stay here anymore, but I’m literally trapped.  I have nothing.  NOTHING.  Nothing. 

I watched myself cry in the mirror tonight.  I thought it would make me stop crying but it didn’t work.  Nothing works.

When my friends call or text me I don’t like to answer because I’m a mess and I don’t want to hold it together but I have to because people need me to help them. 

Coupons.  The most exciting thing about today.

I am not, anymore.

Yellow wall-paper

I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try.

Besides I wouldn't do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued.

You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve

And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground.


Why do some things hit hard enough and just make you want to curl up in a hole?  I guess that's big drama... but I just love my sister. 


Why can other people wear their flaws, while I must hide mine?  Hmm...

#don'tbringthisupinconversationwithme

It's getting a little bit better...

I've started talking to allowing myself to think again, which is good.  In doing so, I've learned a couple of things.  So, regarding abandonment.

My personal hell:

People who are primarily Internalizers have problems with:

• Depression
• Other-Centeredness
• Care-taking and approval-seeking
• Lack of adequate boundaries
• Have difficulty saying "no" for fear of abandonment
• And, lack of a sense of personal power

And the paralysis will be defeated.

Introverting

I think my introverted nature has taken an even greater step. 


I usually process extensively before I say anything in a group, because I feel like what I think to say isn't significant enough.

Now I do that with my own journal, and this one, too.

Summer

So many weddings.  So, so many weddings.  Three this month alone.  I'm excited about all of them, too.  I'm also glad I'm not getting married yet, but excited about the prospect of the person who might marry us.  It would be the awesomest thing ever, I think.

I spend a couple hours at Donna's house this week visiting with her.  We sat on the front porch for hours because it was so beautiful outside.  It makes my heart glad to have someone like her in my life--to be able to sit for hours and just talk about what God does, has done, and is doing.  Sometimes it's difficult for me to remember how much that means to me.  But when she told me her answer to "What have you read today?"--"All of Ruth, all of Hebrews, and some chapters in Isaiah" (or something like that)--I remember that there are people out there that understand my love.

The funny thing that happened though is that when I asked Noelle if she knew Donna's son (because he's Noelle's age), Noelle said, "Donna's a mom?!  I just thought she was someone your age... Like, one of your friends..."  But that's almost the most perfect thing.  There's nothing about Sunday nights that feels like a hierarchical system.  We all love each other, and it's the way a family should be.  It's a blessin'.  But for real. 

I do miss Kyle, though.  He's been so busy with school and work, and now we're so far apart.  It's hard to find time to talk.  I'm just hoping it gets better soon since he's done with his May classes. 

I can't wait until I have a home where people will come and be, and know God's peace and grace and wonder.  They will grow together.

Are blog posts allowed to be vague?

Because this one will be.  My thoughts are vague, my feelings are vague...

All I can think is that I love Shane & Shane.  They are happy music for me.  Not to mention that it has been due to many of their songs that my life has changed drastically. 

I miss the people from my old life sometimes.  They were pretty awesome, and I still hold onto the fact that I was happy back then (not that I'm unhappy now).  I just wish I wasn't emotionally stunted, because the more I think about, that's what I'm pretty sure I am.

No worries though.  Obviously I'd say that.  I can't be unhappy, just as I can't say everything on my mind.  Being unhappy just reflects poorly on me, and that can't be.  I'm not unhappy though, really.  I am in love, because... even now, we love you, Jesus :).


Maybe this is one bit of writing that should have stayed in my personal journal.  It's not really a huge problem though, because I am certain that my readership is fairly low.  I only occasionally get the weird automatically generated advertisement comment.  I don't delete them because I'm not sure than it matters.  Maybe I like thinking that someone is reading--even if it's a robot.  Hey, robots are people too!  My story will make a difference in their life.

Oh, but for real, you should all read the book Who's Afraid of Postmodernism?  It's pretty cool, if you're a nerd like me, interested in the way that postmodernism interacts with faith and the church.  I love it, personally.  Also, though, it really goes along with the idea that "They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony" (Rev. 12:11).  Ha!  Po-Mo fun.

Paz, amor.