Saturday, July 14, 2018

An Imperfect, Exciting and Mysterious Post

I've been struggling with writing a post for the last...well forever it seems. I want it to be eloquent and for you to walk away with some great insight that helps you in your life. But nothing. I just want to write about a few amazing nouns (people, place, thing) I've encountered in the last year. I'm afraid if I wait for that perfect post you'll never know, and you have to know. I would want to know because it's all just so incredible and weird and leaves me at some interesting crossroads.

I met a man at the end of last year. He is a Vietnam vet and writer. And as I have come to suspect, an angel sent by God to intervene in my life. He wanted to get involved with the organization I was working for so we chatted, I learned a little about his background and we parted ways. Just before he left my office, he handed me a business card from the church he attends and mentioned I might benefit from going to a service. He reminded me of my great-grandfather, a kind, old man with a story to tell. We talked once or twice afterward about me possibly helping with a writing project and then communication fizzled.

About two months ago I thought of him. I sent him an email letting him know I was no longer at the organization where we met but that I wanted to say hello and see how he was doing. We exchanged emails for a few weeks and I had written that I was struggling with my depression. He told me about church, not his church, but church and how finding one will be beneficial to me. I told him I'd love to meet him for coffee or lunch at his favorite restaurant and he told me I could meet him at his church on an upcoming Tuesday during a veteran meet and greet he helps with. The church is right next to the VA hospital and being a veteran, he is trying to help other veterans get to know God or just have someone to talk to. My anxiety was at an all-time high and I almost cancelled. I was going to send him an email and I thought, "I can't cancel on Charles!" I felt like he deserved my time. Plus he wanted me to meet the associate pastor. So I went.

And a few life altering things, emotionally and mentally, have happened since. That I will post separately. I am unsure and hopeful and afraid all at the same time. My head feels foggy but crystal-clear too. I feel like this is God. Like my name has reached the top of His list. I have this overwhelming feeling like I have to make a choice. But I think I just need to let things happen, because they're happening. Don't fight it or force it, Jesus take the wheel.

I never understood the "fear of God" concept. Like how can you fear God? And why would He want you to? But I think I get it.

Monday, May 14, 2018

Pretzels Before Pain

"You are just like mom!" my or-so-I-thought-confidante sister yells at me.

Says the girl screaming at me because I said she was stressing me out by something she was saying. I don't even remember what it was about. This same girl, the day before, stormed off from Auntie Anne's in the mall and went MIA for 45 minutes because of a miscommunication between her and our 18-year old and 14-year old sisters. She thought our youngest sister said she wanted an original pretzel. But my youngest sister said she didn't say that. So the sister who would soon be yelling at me that I am "just like mom" yells at the three of us, "I don't want anything. This is too stressful." It's a fucking pretzel. That is just like mom.

I don't remember what I said it was that was stressing me out but I will always remember the things she said afterward. Mean, hurtful, cut-throat words regarding life experiences of which I confided in her. The things she was saying were so ridiculous. So ridiculous yet so hurtful.

Close to three months have passed since all of her awful words and I am still hurt. It's not holding-a-grudge hurt but more of an aching sadness because she was the one person who I felt like understood me and wanted the best for me and viewed me as a great woman who was too hard on herself. And maybe all of those things are still true but those truths won't bring shallowness to my wound.

It has since scabbed over and tiny pieces of grit are falling away from my skin. The scab will turn into a scar, and I'll know the scar is there for an amount of time I am unsure of today. And I'll notice the scar from time to time and remember the hurt. How long will pass between the time-to-time I am unsure of today. Eventually I'll see the scar as a right of continual passage into womanhood and sisterhood and humanhood.

The timespan of healing is uncertain, but one thing I do know for sure is that I am not just like mom.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Sore, Not Soar

"Sometimes you have to find your wings on the way down," I heard someone say. Hopeful words if I hadn't already fallen to the ground. Where did the problems I was born into end and the ones I created for myself begin?

My trauma has become an excuse for my inadequacies. A crutch for the shallow breaths I choose to take. Third chance to second chance to no chance at all will end with another sad narration about my trauma. These are the notes on which I have left.

I am buried beneath the litter I created. Dirty and wounded, I am surrounded by my sad stories and excuses and broken crutches. And the realization, all too late.

The problems I was born into came with a set of wings.