Too many words describe a broken heart, but I only have a few to share. Just a little taste of the shattered person I've become to be. But what ears are there to listen? Who's words are there to soothe? Surrounded by a world full of people, words of love flung at me. Yet is anything sticking? This has nothing to do with anything you may or may not lack. The problem is inside me. I'm the one who feels like I'm nothing. Feels like I could disappear, and no one would come and try to find me.
I want to disappear.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
28th of January. Year 2011.
I need to remember that date for the rest of my life. Knowing me, I probably won't have a problem with that.
Last night? Words couldn't describe how amazing.
Just me and my best friend living life.
Absolutely no regrets.
Really quick, I was driving home and a song came on. Considerably, the song isn't very appropriate if you take it as a whole. But bits and pieces? They work perfectly.
"I still remember this moment...the night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. Long live the walls we crashed through while the kingdom lights shined just for me and you...long live all the magic we made...remember this feeling. I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. Hold on to spinning around...may these memories break our fall and you take a moment, promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever, but if God forbid fate should step in and force us into a goodbye. If you have children some day. When they point to the pictures, please tell them my name. Long live the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life with you."
Last night? Words couldn't describe how amazing.
Just me and my best friend living life.
Absolutely no regrets.
Really quick, I was driving home and a song came on. Considerably, the song isn't very appropriate if you take it as a whole. But bits and pieces? They work perfectly.
"I still remember this moment...the night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. Long live the walls we crashed through while the kingdom lights shined just for me and you...long live all the magic we made...remember this feeling. I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. Hold on to spinning around...may these memories break our fall and you take a moment, promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever, but if God forbid fate should step in and force us into a goodbye. If you have children some day. When they point to the pictures, please tell them my name. Long live the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life with you."
Friday, January 28, 2011
Done.
I'm so angry, I'm crying. I'm so tired, I'm crying. I'm so freaking weak, I'm crying. Hey guess what guys? I'm crying.
My heart is going to explode. My hands are trembling. My brain doesn't know what emotion and pain to signal my body to feel. I'm shutting down. Completely shutting down.
Perhaps screaming will help. Maybe driving an unreasonable fast speed down the road with my music blaring will do. Perhaps a few more damn scars on my body. Not like it would matter either way. Pretty sure a few more to the hundreds already there would not make a noticeable difference. Yeah, yeah. Don't do that Steph. You don't just hurt yourself, you hurt everyone else too. Well what if I don't care anymore? What if I'm so tired of caring so much about every single person in my life only to feel let down by all of them? Feeling run over by them. Getting kicked, and spit at and when I stand back up, getting kicked again.
Quit complaining Stephanie Marie. Grow up. Just deal with it. Pray. Go talk to this person or that. Yeah, because it's all that simple. Oh but wait, life isn't simple, right? You just expect me to keep on going. Well maybe that's just too bad.
Am I being mean? See there I go again. Caring. Worrying if this is going to hurt anyone. Feeling limited in my expression because of the fear of causing some sort of pain. But who reads this piece of crap blog anyway? Erin, Jamie, Michael? Well dears, I'm not talking about any of you. Especially you Erin. You keep me sane. None of you though, don't take any of this personally.
I'm throwing up. I'm running a fever. And although my mom is not working who picked up Marisa today? Who is going to go get Anthony in a couple minutes? Who has to go buy food? Who needs to type a resume that isn't even hers? Who has to get things ready for a garage sale tomorrow? Who has to get yelled at every single day by the one person who I shouldn't have to worry about? Who has to bottle everything up because the rest of the world likes it better that way? Me. Always me.
It is more than obvious that I need to leave, and never turn back.
My heart is going to explode. My hands are trembling. My brain doesn't know what emotion and pain to signal my body to feel. I'm shutting down. Completely shutting down.
Perhaps screaming will help. Maybe driving an unreasonable fast speed down the road with my music blaring will do. Perhaps a few more damn scars on my body. Not like it would matter either way. Pretty sure a few more to the hundreds already there would not make a noticeable difference. Yeah, yeah. Don't do that Steph. You don't just hurt yourself, you hurt everyone else too. Well what if I don't care anymore? What if I'm so tired of caring so much about every single person in my life only to feel let down by all of them? Feeling run over by them. Getting kicked, and spit at and when I stand back up, getting kicked again.
Quit complaining Stephanie Marie. Grow up. Just deal with it. Pray. Go talk to this person or that. Yeah, because it's all that simple. Oh but wait, life isn't simple, right? You just expect me to keep on going. Well maybe that's just too bad.
Am I being mean? See there I go again. Caring. Worrying if this is going to hurt anyone. Feeling limited in my expression because of the fear of causing some sort of pain. But who reads this piece of crap blog anyway? Erin, Jamie, Michael? Well dears, I'm not talking about any of you. Especially you Erin. You keep me sane. None of you though, don't take any of this personally.
I'm throwing up. I'm running a fever. And although my mom is not working who picked up Marisa today? Who is going to go get Anthony in a couple minutes? Who has to go buy food? Who needs to type a resume that isn't even hers? Who has to get things ready for a garage sale tomorrow? Who has to get yelled at every single day by the one person who I shouldn't have to worry about? Who has to bottle everything up because the rest of the world likes it better that way? Me. Always me.
It is more than obvious that I need to leave, and never turn back.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Mi Mejor Amiga
So if you've been faithfully following me you know that I have a blog titled the exact same thing, except in English. That blog had a bit of a different spin on it than what I'm about to write right now. And if I repeat myself in anyway, that's okay. Because I just want to say this and well this is my blog.
Erin Laura Rebello is the most amazing young woman that I know. She is someone I needed more than I ever wanted to admit. I did not want a best friend. Everyone wants friends but I did not want to put faith in another human being. Not the kind of faith that is required for me to say those two words. It isn't some sort of title for me. It isn't even so much a distinction that she is better than everyone else. The definition I have in my head far supersedes anything else. It encompasses a variety of things. It translates into a language that I'm pretty certain I only know how to speak. Other than the love of my heart that Chris has, it is the biggest thing I can give a single person. Though it may not be perceived as one, or even worthy of it, it is the single biggest honor anyone in my life has.
Last night when I spent those precious hours with her I experienced something that I've lacked for years. I had a moment that seemed like it would be impossible to achieve. I experienced a moment without concern. Without fear, without anxiety. Without stress and lingering thoughts. I didn't think about anything from the past. I didn't think about anything about the future. I lived in the moment with my best friend. Just that moment. I was happy. I was comfortable. And mostly, I felt like I belonged there with her. Like she really did want me there with her. They weren't just words she was saying. It was an emotion. A confirming warmth that she just may love me as much as I love her. I didn't feel like a bother.
Erin and I are very different people. But we are very similar as well. I can tell her anything. Even if she sometimes can't do the same. I'm more comfortable with her than anyone else. I don't have to hold up any false pretenses. Being me, awkwardness and all, is okay. I have fun with her. I can relax with her. I can sit in her car and drive with her 60 miles and not have a moment of boredom. Part of me didn't want her to stop. Actually a big part of me. I wanted her to keep driving. Leave Gilbert, Arizona and our problems and watch them fade in the rear view mirror. We'll deal with them later. Besides, life is so much better when she's standing next to me.
Erin is beautiful, and smart. Erin has faith that I admire. Erin makes me smile when I want to cry. Erin is honest with me, even when it hurts. Erin makes me laugh. Erin pushes me past my comfort level. Erin makes me want to be crazy with her. Erin makes me have hope in people. That's really the biggest gift Erin has given me. She makes me realize with every passing day that I can depend on some people. She's restoring faith that I lost.
I'd like to think that Erin and I will be friends forever. Best friends. If I hadn't already promised my sister, I would be ecstatic to have her be my maid of honor on my wedding day. My first child however, she will be the godmother. But life is too finicky and fragile to speculate about the future. What happens will happen. All I know right now is that God gave her to me for a specific reason. I only wish I could make even the slightest fraction of the impact on her life in the way she has mine.
Erin Laura Rebello is the most amazing young woman that I know. She is someone I needed more than I ever wanted to admit. I did not want a best friend. Everyone wants friends but I did not want to put faith in another human being. Not the kind of faith that is required for me to say those two words. It isn't some sort of title for me. It isn't even so much a distinction that she is better than everyone else. The definition I have in my head far supersedes anything else. It encompasses a variety of things. It translates into a language that I'm pretty certain I only know how to speak. Other than the love of my heart that Chris has, it is the biggest thing I can give a single person. Though it may not be perceived as one, or even worthy of it, it is the single biggest honor anyone in my life has.
Last night when I spent those precious hours with her I experienced something that I've lacked for years. I had a moment that seemed like it would be impossible to achieve. I experienced a moment without concern. Without fear, without anxiety. Without stress and lingering thoughts. I didn't think about anything from the past. I didn't think about anything about the future. I lived in the moment with my best friend. Just that moment. I was happy. I was comfortable. And mostly, I felt like I belonged there with her. Like she really did want me there with her. They weren't just words she was saying. It was an emotion. A confirming warmth that she just may love me as much as I love her. I didn't feel like a bother.
Erin and I are very different people. But we are very similar as well. I can tell her anything. Even if she sometimes can't do the same. I'm more comfortable with her than anyone else. I don't have to hold up any false pretenses. Being me, awkwardness and all, is okay. I have fun with her. I can relax with her. I can sit in her car and drive with her 60 miles and not have a moment of boredom. Part of me didn't want her to stop. Actually a big part of me. I wanted her to keep driving. Leave Gilbert, Arizona and our problems and watch them fade in the rear view mirror. We'll deal with them later. Besides, life is so much better when she's standing next to me.
Erin is beautiful, and smart. Erin has faith that I admire. Erin makes me smile when I want to cry. Erin is honest with me, even when it hurts. Erin makes me laugh. Erin pushes me past my comfort level. Erin makes me want to be crazy with her. Erin makes me have hope in people. That's really the biggest gift Erin has given me. She makes me realize with every passing day that I can depend on some people. She's restoring faith that I lost.
I'd like to think that Erin and I will be friends forever. Best friends. If I hadn't already promised my sister, I would be ecstatic to have her be my maid of honor on my wedding day. My first child however, she will be the godmother. But life is too finicky and fragile to speculate about the future. What happens will happen. All I know right now is that God gave her to me for a specific reason. I only wish I could make even the slightest fraction of the impact on her life in the way she has mine.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Forever Memories
There's this complete rush I get when my lungs tighten up and my legs want to quit but I keep on pushing. I love how much I can push myself. Maybe because it's a little dangerous and I get high off the control I feel like I have. It's a little similar to driving and my absolute need to speed. Except running causes a sort of healthy pain that I need. I want to feel alive and hearing my heart beat in my ears and feeling my breathing getting heavier does that. I got a little sick tonight though. That either means I pushed too much or I need to run more. I think I'll settle with the latter.
While I was running I could feel the hair come out of my pony tail a little. My hair is considerably shorter than before and the shortest layers put up a bit of a fight. It wasn't really bothering me but I had a quick thought about a sweatband. At that thought I felt myself running faster, as though my legs could carry me away from my thoughts. It's impossible though. I'm stuck with me and that includes my messed up emotions and thoughts. Twenty one years have made me tolerate myself fairly well. But sometimes it gets too much.
We sat at the kitchen table just talking about nothing. That's one of those things that was so nice about being with her. We could talk about everything and anything and never get bored. When I spoke I knew she was listening. As though for the first time in my life someone really cared about what I had to say. Being with her made me smile because I believed in forever with her. I thought that I could never lose a friendship like this. There was a box of cereal on the table and Diana began reading the back. In a section of the box there was this little paragraph that talked about how to have a healthy life. In so many words it basically said that you should eat breakfast and go on a daily morning or evening walks. Brisk walks. So Diana being Diana grabbed two bowls, poured the cereal and told me to eat. We ate together and when we were done what did we do? Went on a brisk walk of course! I'm pretty sure I can remember the clothes we were wearing. The way her street curved and the funny way Diana was "walking briskly". She told me when we were old ladies we would still do this. Except in bright jumpsuits with matching sweatbands. And during the days we would sit on the front porch together drinking lemonade with giant hats with fruit in them. Real fruit mind you. None of this fake stuff. Just in case you know, one of us got hungry. I believed her you know. With my whole heart. Other than God, I've never had as much faith in anything as I did our friendship. She would never leave me and I never her. It was impossible. I hate being wrong sometimes.
Things happen for a reason. I do believe that. I don't know or understand the reasons and maybe that's the real issue here. I don't know what was wrong with me. I don't know what I did. I don't understand the idea of people walking away from me. When Diana did I snapped. Because even with the whole thing with my mom, I still had some sort of hope. Some faith in people. When Diana called me that night I lost everything. Forever is, deep down inside, something I'm not sure the rest of the world can live up to. Not in regards to me. I have a defect of some sort. I'll always be here for you, really. If Diana called me right now and said she needed me to fly to her in what, Oklahoma? Is that where she lives? I don't even know. But if she did, I would do it without question. My friendship and my love do not have conditions. They are not circumstantial. I'm in things for life. That's just who I am, and I'm proud of that. I won't walk out on you.
I'm not sure where I'm even going with this. Even though it still causes me an unreasonable amount of pain I don't dislike that I have these sort of thoughts. I don't want to forget her. Not that I could. I mean really. Between "palm tree" and "sweatbands" I get flooded with so many things. Maybe that is the forever she gave me though. A forever memory. She was the answer to my prayers and helped me be the person I am. Part of me will always miss her but I think some of that has to do with the fact that I'm way too sentimental.
Besides, my life is filled with people who do love me. Although I live with this fear of them leaving, I honestly cherish every single day I have with them. Especially a very special person that has been a complete angel in my life. A person that broke through walls I didn't want broken. A person who is in no way whatsoever a replacement or some sort of fix. No a person who simply is beautiful in every way and means more to me than the human language could adequately express. I could never say that I'm not blessed.
While I was running I could feel the hair come out of my pony tail a little. My hair is considerably shorter than before and the shortest layers put up a bit of a fight. It wasn't really bothering me but I had a quick thought about a sweatband. At that thought I felt myself running faster, as though my legs could carry me away from my thoughts. It's impossible though. I'm stuck with me and that includes my messed up emotions and thoughts. Twenty one years have made me tolerate myself fairly well. But sometimes it gets too much.
We sat at the kitchen table just talking about nothing. That's one of those things that was so nice about being with her. We could talk about everything and anything and never get bored. When I spoke I knew she was listening. As though for the first time in my life someone really cared about what I had to say. Being with her made me smile because I believed in forever with her. I thought that I could never lose a friendship like this. There was a box of cereal on the table and Diana began reading the back. In a section of the box there was this little paragraph that talked about how to have a healthy life. In so many words it basically said that you should eat breakfast and go on a daily morning or evening walks. Brisk walks. So Diana being Diana grabbed two bowls, poured the cereal and told me to eat. We ate together and when we were done what did we do? Went on a brisk walk of course! I'm pretty sure I can remember the clothes we were wearing. The way her street curved and the funny way Diana was "walking briskly". She told me when we were old ladies we would still do this. Except in bright jumpsuits with matching sweatbands. And during the days we would sit on the front porch together drinking lemonade with giant hats with fruit in them. Real fruit mind you. None of this fake stuff. Just in case you know, one of us got hungry. I believed her you know. With my whole heart. Other than God, I've never had as much faith in anything as I did our friendship. She would never leave me and I never her. It was impossible. I hate being wrong sometimes.
Things happen for a reason. I do believe that. I don't know or understand the reasons and maybe that's the real issue here. I don't know what was wrong with me. I don't know what I did. I don't understand the idea of people walking away from me. When Diana did I snapped. Because even with the whole thing with my mom, I still had some sort of hope. Some faith in people. When Diana called me that night I lost everything. Forever is, deep down inside, something I'm not sure the rest of the world can live up to. Not in regards to me. I have a defect of some sort. I'll always be here for you, really. If Diana called me right now and said she needed me to fly to her in what, Oklahoma? Is that where she lives? I don't even know. But if she did, I would do it without question. My friendship and my love do not have conditions. They are not circumstantial. I'm in things for life. That's just who I am, and I'm proud of that. I won't walk out on you.
I'm not sure where I'm even going with this. Even though it still causes me an unreasonable amount of pain I don't dislike that I have these sort of thoughts. I don't want to forget her. Not that I could. I mean really. Between "palm tree" and "sweatbands" I get flooded with so many things. Maybe that is the forever she gave me though. A forever memory. She was the answer to my prayers and helped me be the person I am. Part of me will always miss her but I think some of that has to do with the fact that I'm way too sentimental.
Besides, my life is filled with people who do love me. Although I live with this fear of them leaving, I honestly cherish every single day I have with them. Especially a very special person that has been a complete angel in my life. A person that broke through walls I didn't want broken. A person who is in no way whatsoever a replacement or some sort of fix. No a person who simply is beautiful in every way and means more to me than the human language could adequately express. I could never say that I'm not blessed.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Give in to Me
I need to stop hearing songs that I would love to have as the song Chris and I will dance to on our wedding day. There's just way too many. I love music. Especially country.
I'm gonna wear you down
I'm gonna make you see
I'm gonna get to you
You're gonna give into me
I'm gonna start a fire
You're gonna feel the heat
I'm gonna burn for you
You're gonna melt for me
(Hedlund&Meester)
Come on, come on
Into my arms
Come on, come on
Give into me
(Meester)
You're gonna take my hand
Whisper the sweetest words
And if you're ever sad
I'll make you laugh
I'll chase the hurt
(Hedlund&Meester)
My heart is set on you
I don't want no one else
And if you don't want me
I guess I'll be all by myself
Come on, come on
Into my arms
Come on, come on
Give into me
(Meester)
I'll use my eyes to draw you in
Until I'm under your skin
I'll use my lips, I'll use my arms
Come on, come on, come on
Give into me
(Hedlund&Meester)
Give into me
Give into me
Listen
I'm gonna wear you down
I'm gonna make you see
I'm gonna get to you
You're gonna give into me
I'm gonna start a fire
You're gonna feel the heat
I'm gonna burn for you
You're gonna melt for me
(Hedlund&Meester)
Come on, come on
Into my arms
Come on, come on
Give into me
(Meester)
You're gonna take my hand
Whisper the sweetest words
And if you're ever sad
I'll make you laugh
I'll chase the hurt
(Hedlund&Meester)
My heart is set on you
I don't want no one else
And if you don't want me
I guess I'll be all by myself
Come on, come on
Into my arms
Come on, come on
Give into me
(Meester)
I'll use my eyes to draw you in
Until I'm under your skin
I'll use my lips, I'll use my arms
Come on, come on, come on
Give into me
(Hedlund&Meester)
Give into me
Give into me
Listen
Today is Monday.
It's a little frustrating having so much to say and no real place to say it. I went to grab my little journal from my purse today and my heart sunk when I realized I left it on my desk. I was desperate so I wrote on a blank check. Hah.
I'm not sure how much I benefit others by being a part of their lives. I have no idea the impact I have on my little world and those who are in it. I tend to think my words have little meaning half the time, though I speak all the time from the bottom of my heart. Yet when I come across a situation that I can't do absolutely anything at all for I have a bit of an anxiety attack. I hate feeling useless. I hate not having a single clue as to what I could do to make everything better. I realize that so many battles aren't mine to fight. But when you love a person-no, when you love some people so much it hurts it's hard to just sit around and do nothing. But I pray. I'm praying so much.
My head is filled with too many things. I keep thinking how I really just need some down time. I need to go do something fun. I love that youth group started up again because that's my biggest enjoyment. It rejuvenates me. I love those kids so much.
I need to go work out. No just saying it. I hate that that's who I've become. Talking about things and not actually doing them. So tonight I'll go running. And the next, and the next and the next. I'll figure out some routine and stick to it. I have always been my own motivation. I keep myself accountable. But these days are different. So if you're reading this and talk to me, keep me accountable. In some way or another.
I think I need to write a book.
I'm not sure how much I benefit others by being a part of their lives. I have no idea the impact I have on my little world and those who are in it. I tend to think my words have little meaning half the time, though I speak all the time from the bottom of my heart. Yet when I come across a situation that I can't do absolutely anything at all for I have a bit of an anxiety attack. I hate feeling useless. I hate not having a single clue as to what I could do to make everything better. I realize that so many battles aren't mine to fight. But when you love a person-no, when you love some people so much it hurts it's hard to just sit around and do nothing. But I pray. I'm praying so much.
My head is filled with too many things. I keep thinking how I really just need some down time. I need to go do something fun. I love that youth group started up again because that's my biggest enjoyment. It rejuvenates me. I love those kids so much.
I need to go work out. No just saying it. I hate that that's who I've become. Talking about things and not actually doing them. So tonight I'll go running. And the next, and the next and the next. I'll figure out some routine and stick to it. I have always been my own motivation. I keep myself accountable. But these days are different. So if you're reading this and talk to me, keep me accountable. In some way or another.
I think I need to write a book.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Loves of my Life.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Reader Discretion Advised
I sat there in the cold on a swing set. Tears freely slid down my face. I felt panicked. As though I knew what I would do before I even thought it. My hand grabbed frantically for my phone needing desperately to connect with someone. Erin comes to mind first but I realize she hadn't replied to my previous text. So I scroll down and find Jacob's name. Text sent.
Within two texts I realize he's with Erin. Erin then proceeds to text me. I feel a twinge of guilt because I have this feeling that she isn't texting me because she has this overwhelming desire to. She wants to see if I'm okay. How can I describe that I'm not? In a detail that would make her feel as though she needs to rush to my side? No. I rather just keep it simple and let her enjoy time with her boyfriend.
But I shouldn't be alone.
The cold is too much. Living in Arizona has made me a wimp. I head home and sit in my mom's empty room. She's at the casino. Again. Erin gives me the green light to text her til 930 so I take it. But I'm careful about my words. Am I lying to my best friend? Maybe in a way. Though that isn't my intention. I just don't want to be a burden.
It's a little past 930. Erin has to go. The moment comes. I can't stop it anymore. My thoughts begin to blur. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I send a text to Michael but I realize it's too late. I can't get pulled out. I have no strength. I get up. I try to pray. But the tears in my eyes burn too much. My heart feels too heavy.
I knew I shouldn't be alone.
I find a knife and matches in the same drawer. I sit against the door to make sure it can't be opened. I slide my pants down and get to work. Matches first, knife second. That old familiar sting.
I had done so well. Fighting the daily temptation that I've lived with for 9 years.
But tonight I lost.
Within two texts I realize he's with Erin. Erin then proceeds to text me. I feel a twinge of guilt because I have this feeling that she isn't texting me because she has this overwhelming desire to. She wants to see if I'm okay. How can I describe that I'm not? In a detail that would make her feel as though she needs to rush to my side? No. I rather just keep it simple and let her enjoy time with her boyfriend.
But I shouldn't be alone.
The cold is too much. Living in Arizona has made me a wimp. I head home and sit in my mom's empty room. She's at the casino. Again. Erin gives me the green light to text her til 930 so I take it. But I'm careful about my words. Am I lying to my best friend? Maybe in a way. Though that isn't my intention. I just don't want to be a burden.
It's a little past 930. Erin has to go. The moment comes. I can't stop it anymore. My thoughts begin to blur. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I send a text to Michael but I realize it's too late. I can't get pulled out. I have no strength. I get up. I try to pray. But the tears in my eyes burn too much. My heart feels too heavy.
I knew I shouldn't be alone.
I find a knife and matches in the same drawer. I sit against the door to make sure it can't be opened. I slide my pants down and get to work. Matches first, knife second. That old familiar sting.
I had done so well. Fighting the daily temptation that I've lived with for 9 years.
But tonight I lost.
Irresponsibility
In kindergarten my teacher had a parent teacher conference with my parents. She sat them down and told them that I only had one problem. I was too mature for my age. Sometimes I wonder if that information went into my mom's brain and she decided to exploit it even more. At the end of that year we had "awards" presented to us. Class Clown, etc. What did I get? Most Responsible.
There's an ongoing nature vs. nurture debate in the psychology world. I'm a firm believer that they both contribute. However I side with nurture every time. My discipline is in social psych, and so maybe that's why I'm biased. But I can guarantee you that my responsibility was not some inherent trait I was born with. I couldn't have possibly gotten it from my parents. No, I am a victim of my environment. Much like I believe we all are.
My house right now is cluttered with boxes. There is no food in the house. My mom complains every day about something regarding money. As each day passes my time to leave this house approaches closer. I keep getting little reminders how I need to leave. Yet last night my mom and idiot stepdad come home a little past 11pm. My mom is drunk and by my stepdad's face I know they went to the casino. I asked my mom if she's going to work in the morning and she said she called out. Right now she's at the mall and going to get her hair done. I know for a fact that she didn't win anything yesterday. But whatever, right? She just wants to sign over papers and give my sister to me. And you don't see my dad jumping up and objecting. He's too drunk half the time and has too many girlfriends to keep track off to worry about his children. I'm all grown up and the way everyone sees it, Marisa has me. Anthony is okay because he's my mom's baby and my stepdad does one thing right and cares for him. But even then I do so much for my brother.
I'm 21 and I have no right to ask for my parent's help. Not that I've ever asked for their help anyway. For my 10th birthday I got a 50 dollar bill. My mom said she'd hold onto it so I wouldn't lose it. I never got it back. Since I got my first job at 16 I've been giving my parents money. I pay for their bills. I do whatever I can to help. Right now though I don't have a job. I give what I can but it's a really big struggle. Especially because I'm trying so hard to save so I can leave and get an apartment, but every day my mom comes at me and asks if I have money to give. I'm stuck. And then Marisa needs things. She needs food, she needs school supplies. But how am I supposed to do all of this?
Sometimes I want to be irresponsible. I want to say screw it and do something crazy. I want to blow money on something. I want to go out of town and not tell a soul that I'm leaving. I want to buy something for myself and not feel so guilty that I cry. But that isn't who I am. I don't run away from my responsibility. I'll take it. I'll carry the whole world on my shoulders if I have to. But sometimes, just for a second or two, I wish someone could carry me.
There's an ongoing nature vs. nurture debate in the psychology world. I'm a firm believer that they both contribute. However I side with nurture every time. My discipline is in social psych, and so maybe that's why I'm biased. But I can guarantee you that my responsibility was not some inherent trait I was born with. I couldn't have possibly gotten it from my parents. No, I am a victim of my environment. Much like I believe we all are.
My house right now is cluttered with boxes. There is no food in the house. My mom complains every day about something regarding money. As each day passes my time to leave this house approaches closer. I keep getting little reminders how I need to leave. Yet last night my mom and idiot stepdad come home a little past 11pm. My mom is drunk and by my stepdad's face I know they went to the casino. I asked my mom if she's going to work in the morning and she said she called out. Right now she's at the mall and going to get her hair done. I know for a fact that she didn't win anything yesterday. But whatever, right? She just wants to sign over papers and give my sister to me. And you don't see my dad jumping up and objecting. He's too drunk half the time and has too many girlfriends to keep track off to worry about his children. I'm all grown up and the way everyone sees it, Marisa has me. Anthony is okay because he's my mom's baby and my stepdad does one thing right and cares for him. But even then I do so much for my brother.
I'm 21 and I have no right to ask for my parent's help. Not that I've ever asked for their help anyway. For my 10th birthday I got a 50 dollar bill. My mom said she'd hold onto it so I wouldn't lose it. I never got it back. Since I got my first job at 16 I've been giving my parents money. I pay for their bills. I do whatever I can to help. Right now though I don't have a job. I give what I can but it's a really big struggle. Especially because I'm trying so hard to save so I can leave and get an apartment, but every day my mom comes at me and asks if I have money to give. I'm stuck. And then Marisa needs things. She needs food, she needs school supplies. But how am I supposed to do all of this?
Sometimes I want to be irresponsible. I want to say screw it and do something crazy. I want to blow money on something. I want to go out of town and not tell a soul that I'm leaving. I want to buy something for myself and not feel so guilty that I cry. But that isn't who I am. I don't run away from my responsibility. I'll take it. I'll carry the whole world on my shoulders if I have to. But sometimes, just for a second or two, I wish someone could carry me.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Ramble
I'm one of those people that keeps things in for a very long time and then I break. I'm pretty much breaking and I'm pretty much terribly misunderstood. I am not stressed because I'm failing to face one problem at a time. I'm not overwhelmed a tiny bit about school. School is easy and no one could experience everything I'm experiencing, and be put on this sort of time limit and take one thing at a time. If they did well, they'd fail horribly. I can't afford to fail. There are so many more things going on than anyone knows. And I'm not angry that I'm misunderstood. I'm actually not angry at anything at all. Anger is an emotion that I rarely feel. I get frustrated, sure. But angry? No. My heart goes to other emotions.
I have never thought life would be easy. I know that there are so many people who have gone through more than I have. I know that I have things better than some. But I also know that I have suffered more than many. I have experienced things that not everyone experiences. And I have never been allowed to be a kid. That's my life though and I'm okay with that. I used to plan foolishly for the future because I was trying desperately to run away from my past and I was pained by my present. I don't do that anymore. I think about the future yes, but I don't plan. I don't set goals and run after them. Because every real goal I've ever set I've accomplished but it didn't change anything. In fact it made me more lonely because all those goals had something to do with one person or another and all those people decided that I wasn't worth it.
This blog has no point. And I'm not looking for advice. Because no one gives me credit. No one looks at me and sees how far I've come they just seem me still hurting. Still complaining. Still stuck in the same place. But no one knows me like they should. No one really even takes the time. And I'm not saying this to hurt anyone or to devalue any relationship I have with anyone. But it's the truth. I know I'm loved. Especially by Chris and Erin. Chris would do absolutely anything for me and Erin is my best friend. But even they don't really get it. And maybe they're not supposed to. I'm certainly not asking anything more from them either. Or anyone else for that matter. I'm just spitting out words and trying to make a little bit of sense.
I can't stop crying. Since Sunday night I've cried almost nonstop. On the retreat I cried in the bathroom for about 5 minutes and then composed myself and continued on. That night I cried myself to sleep. Monday I cried while I drove home, and I'm pretty sure Michael didn't notice. Then I cried with Erin. Twice. Though I teared up more than that. I cried like a baby when I left her house and was talking to Chris. I cried more when I got home. I cried myself to sleep that night too. I cried while I drove to the lightrail on Tuesday morning. I cried during my break between classes. I cried while watching TV. I cried after Chris went home. I cried myself to sleep again. When I woke up this morning I cried. I cried from 9am-12pm without stopping in my room. I cried at Olive Garden with Chris. I cried when we came back home and he fell asleep. I cried in WalMart. I'm crying now.
(If you're reading this don't take what I'm about to say as me being suicidal. I won't do anything, really.) I don't want to live. I hurt too much. I keep wanting to run into the bathroom and grab my razor blade and just lash out. I want to take a shower and put the water on as hot as it can go. I want to get a match, light it and drop it on my skin and let it burn itself out. I want to punch myself over and over again. I want to crash my truck into a wall. I want to do anything other than feel what I feel right now.
I want to be hugged. Held and not let go for a very long time. I need a human connection. A true and real one. I need someone to hold my hand and let me cry. Don't ask any questions right now. Just be with me.
I have never thought life would be easy. I know that there are so many people who have gone through more than I have. I know that I have things better than some. But I also know that I have suffered more than many. I have experienced things that not everyone experiences. And I have never been allowed to be a kid. That's my life though and I'm okay with that. I used to plan foolishly for the future because I was trying desperately to run away from my past and I was pained by my present. I don't do that anymore. I think about the future yes, but I don't plan. I don't set goals and run after them. Because every real goal I've ever set I've accomplished but it didn't change anything. In fact it made me more lonely because all those goals had something to do with one person or another and all those people decided that I wasn't worth it.
This blog has no point. And I'm not looking for advice. Because no one gives me credit. No one looks at me and sees how far I've come they just seem me still hurting. Still complaining. Still stuck in the same place. But no one knows me like they should. No one really even takes the time. And I'm not saying this to hurt anyone or to devalue any relationship I have with anyone. But it's the truth. I know I'm loved. Especially by Chris and Erin. Chris would do absolutely anything for me and Erin is my best friend. But even they don't really get it. And maybe they're not supposed to. I'm certainly not asking anything more from them either. Or anyone else for that matter. I'm just spitting out words and trying to make a little bit of sense.
I can't stop crying. Since Sunday night I've cried almost nonstop. On the retreat I cried in the bathroom for about 5 minutes and then composed myself and continued on. That night I cried myself to sleep. Monday I cried while I drove home, and I'm pretty sure Michael didn't notice. Then I cried with Erin. Twice. Though I teared up more than that. I cried like a baby when I left her house and was talking to Chris. I cried more when I got home. I cried myself to sleep that night too. I cried while I drove to the lightrail on Tuesday morning. I cried during my break between classes. I cried while watching TV. I cried after Chris went home. I cried myself to sleep again. When I woke up this morning I cried. I cried from 9am-12pm without stopping in my room. I cried at Olive Garden with Chris. I cried when we came back home and he fell asleep. I cried in WalMart. I'm crying now.
(If you're reading this don't take what I'm about to say as me being suicidal. I won't do anything, really.) I don't want to live. I hurt too much. I keep wanting to run into the bathroom and grab my razor blade and just lash out. I want to take a shower and put the water on as hot as it can go. I want to get a match, light it and drop it on my skin and let it burn itself out. I want to punch myself over and over again. I want to crash my truck into a wall. I want to do anything other than feel what I feel right now.
I want to be hugged. Held and not let go for a very long time. I need a human connection. A true and real one. I need someone to hold my hand and let me cry. Don't ask any questions right now. Just be with me.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Trying to Empty the Tank
I'm a bit of a mess. Not that this is any new news but the severity of my problems keep getting worse. It's as though every day I get more and more emotionally unstable. And I'm crying way too much. Little things trigger it. I mean come on, Erin said the word "palm tree" and my thoughts spiraled out of control. I had these vivid flashbacks and I freaked out. I held my composure the best I could but it was painfully obvious that I was distressed. Then when I left her house and got in my truck and called Chris I fell apart even more. Tears just kept coming and I couldn't even truly explain why.
Part of my craziness yesterday was because I am so tired. This weekend was exhausting and I know pretty much for a fact that I was under some kind of spiritual attack. God is amazingly good though and He carried me through the process and allowed His children to affirm me in ways that I can't describe. But it still took a toll on me. Another reason is that I have so much to say right now. There's way too many thoughts and emotions inside of me. I need to let so much go but it's difficult to. There's only so much I can say to any given person. I could blog on this for hours but I just don't have the time. Yet I need something. How many times do I have to express that I'm in an ocean of worry, regret, fear and utmost despair and without having the ability to swim? I just can't stop myself from drowning.
And then there's this problem. Right here I'm blogging. Class doesn't start for an hour and I need so desperately to unload anything. But I can't. And this isn't some sort of writer's block. It's not like I don't have the words to say it. To describe myself even. The problem is that there is too much. Where can I even start? And on how many different subjects should I relate to? My mind is on overdrive. So much more than it constantly always is. I keep getting sick because I'm so stressed out. But what can I do? What can anyone do?
I'm so very tired.
Part of my craziness yesterday was because I am so tired. This weekend was exhausting and I know pretty much for a fact that I was under some kind of spiritual attack. God is amazingly good though and He carried me through the process and allowed His children to affirm me in ways that I can't describe. But it still took a toll on me. Another reason is that I have so much to say right now. There's way too many thoughts and emotions inside of me. I need to let so much go but it's difficult to. There's only so much I can say to any given person. I could blog on this for hours but I just don't have the time. Yet I need something. How many times do I have to express that I'm in an ocean of worry, regret, fear and utmost despair and without having the ability to swim? I just can't stop myself from drowning.
And then there's this problem. Right here I'm blogging. Class doesn't start for an hour and I need so desperately to unload anything. But I can't. And this isn't some sort of writer's block. It's not like I don't have the words to say it. To describe myself even. The problem is that there is too much. Where can I even start? And on how many different subjects should I relate to? My mind is on overdrive. So much more than it constantly always is. I keep getting sick because I'm so stressed out. But what can I do? What can anyone do?
I'm so very tired.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Living to Serve
Ever since I was a small child I've had the desire to be helpful. There are a few positive things that I can truly muster about myself without feeling slightly guilty and one of those is my kindness and my ability to love. I've always been that person people turn to. I've always been someone to lose sleep over an individual in need. I pride myself in giving so much more than I take. It's something that brings me great happiness. Knowing that somehow, someway, I made a difference. A person smiled because of something I did. I live for it.
My faith and complete devotion to Christ and the Roman Catholic Church has made this combination of desire into a perfect match. God formed me in my mother's womb and has paved this path for me. I just know it. Because even simply looking at an agenda of a weekend retreat gives me a sort of high that I cannot fully describe. My heart catches fire with anticipation and the joy of being a part of a bigger plan. I desire nothing more than the prayer I pray every day. Lord, help me to be an instrument to Your will. May my hands serve You. May my words speak Your truth. May my heart love Your children the way You intend me to.
I haven't been looking forward to this upcoming weekend for a couple reasons. Number one I miss my best friend so very much and I want to be at the airport to greet her home. Number two I have so much going on in my life and so many things to stress about that I couldn't really think about dealing with 62 5th-8th graders for four days. But as soon as Jeremy handed me that schedule and began talking about this weekends events I became happy. And that realization hit me incredibly hard because I'm not a happy person. I live each day in this kind of emotional pain and stress that makes every breath difficult. But I have never been unhappy doing youth ministry. I have never felt empty. Nothing, not even loving Chris, has ever felt so right than serving God and His children in this way.
I failed at dying because I was supposed to live to serve.
My faith and complete devotion to Christ and the Roman Catholic Church has made this combination of desire into a perfect match. God formed me in my mother's womb and has paved this path for me. I just know it. Because even simply looking at an agenda of a weekend retreat gives me a sort of high that I cannot fully describe. My heart catches fire with anticipation and the joy of being a part of a bigger plan. I desire nothing more than the prayer I pray every day. Lord, help me to be an instrument to Your will. May my hands serve You. May my words speak Your truth. May my heart love Your children the way You intend me to.
I haven't been looking forward to this upcoming weekend for a couple reasons. Number one I miss my best friend so very much and I want to be at the airport to greet her home. Number two I have so much going on in my life and so many things to stress about that I couldn't really think about dealing with 62 5th-8th graders for four days. But as soon as Jeremy handed me that schedule and began talking about this weekends events I became happy. And that realization hit me incredibly hard because I'm not a happy person. I live each day in this kind of emotional pain and stress that makes every breath difficult. But I have never been unhappy doing youth ministry. I have never felt empty. Nothing, not even loving Chris, has ever felt so right than serving God and His children in this way.
I failed at dying because I was supposed to live to serve.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thin Line
I'm sitting here, dressed and ready to go. The phrase "power hour" makes me laugh a little. Can we define power please? I don't know much but I'm pretty sure downing shots until you puke is the opposite of having power. It's more like giving it away. Why I'm even going to this event is beyond me. Perhaps I'm just lonely and I have a desire to be around people. Maybe I just want to go out and live a little. More than likely I just want to make sure no one gets hurt or gets into the driver's seat when they shouldn't. Or how about all of the above? Yeah, I choose that answer.
There's something else though. This tiny feeling inside of me that desires a taste. It isn't the alcohol that I want though. The idea sickens me. It's more the freedom from my thoughts and pain. I want to forget, just for a moment. I want to let go of everything and just be a kind of crazy that I have never been before.
You know I could very easily become an alcoholic and an addict. I have that addictive personality and incredible low self worth. Hah. Guess it's a good thing I have more sense.
I think one day I'm going to be the one that disappears and never comes back.
There's something else though. This tiny feeling inside of me that desires a taste. It isn't the alcohol that I want though. The idea sickens me. It's more the freedom from my thoughts and pain. I want to forget, just for a moment. I want to let go of everything and just be a kind of crazy that I have never been before.
You know I could very easily become an alcoholic and an addict. I have that addictive personality and incredible low self worth. Hah. Guess it's a good thing I have more sense.
I think one day I'm going to be the one that disappears and never comes back.
Cries for Help
I cried hard for a good amount of time into my boyfriend's arms. He just held me and kissed my head while I blubbered to him and released this overwhelming tension I held inside of me. After I was done I could breathe. I hadn't realized it but I had been holding my breath for a very long time. Weeks maybe. Crying to him was what I needed and he did a wonderful job of not trying to fix any of my problems. He just listened and told me he loved me. He's perfect.
I, on the other hand, am more messed up than I ever realized. If you were to closely examine my heart and soul you would probably be horrified. It's held together my stitches of scars and bruises. My heart barely beats and my soul is huddled in a corner too terrified to come out. I'm a heavy weight fighter who has gone too many rounds and is on their last rope. Still standing but barely hanging on. I'm no longer throwing punches. All I do is hold my arms tightly against my body, my fists covering my face. I'm doing my best to block every hit and just wait for the bell to ring because I know the next hit that lands on my body will be the knockout punch.
What I'm asking from everyone isn't fair. What I absolutely need from a few select people is so completely pathetic. People should not have to constantly prove their love to me. I should not need this kind of reassurance. But I do. I need to know where my worth lies in your eyes, and in yours. I need to know why you take time to talk to me. I need to know who I am to you and if I have ever made a difference. I need to know if you plan on leaving. I need to know if I'm going to get a phone call, a text, a letter saying that you don't want me anymore. I need to know if one day you're just going to disappear.
I don't know how to heal. My wounds lie so deep. My past dictates my thoughts and emotions. I don't know how to let go of this fear. How am I supposed to trust anyone when all I've experienced is broken promises? I hate living this way. I really do. I'm so messed up. I need help. This is me begging for it. Please.
I'm on my knees. Don't be the one to throw that punch.
I, on the other hand, am more messed up than I ever realized. If you were to closely examine my heart and soul you would probably be horrified. It's held together my stitches of scars and bruises. My heart barely beats and my soul is huddled in a corner too terrified to come out. I'm a heavy weight fighter who has gone too many rounds and is on their last rope. Still standing but barely hanging on. I'm no longer throwing punches. All I do is hold my arms tightly against my body, my fists covering my face. I'm doing my best to block every hit and just wait for the bell to ring because I know the next hit that lands on my body will be the knockout punch.
What I'm asking from everyone isn't fair. What I absolutely need from a few select people is so completely pathetic. People should not have to constantly prove their love to me. I should not need this kind of reassurance. But I do. I need to know where my worth lies in your eyes, and in yours. I need to know why you take time to talk to me. I need to know who I am to you and if I have ever made a difference. I need to know if you plan on leaving. I need to know if I'm going to get a phone call, a text, a letter saying that you don't want me anymore. I need to know if one day you're just going to disappear.
I don't know how to heal. My wounds lie so deep. My past dictates my thoughts and emotions. I don't know how to let go of this fear. How am I supposed to trust anyone when all I've experienced is broken promises? I hate living this way. I really do. I'm so messed up. I need help. This is me begging for it. Please.
I'm on my knees. Don't be the one to throw that punch.
Rewind.
I just wrote a blog. A very honest and frustrated one. But I think it should be left unread. I think I'm going crazy actually.
All I know is I want the truth about how you feel. I want to have a clear understanding about where I stand and who I am. I want to know my importance. And if the answer is that there isn't any I want to know that too. I don't want to live in this paranoia. and I can't do this alone. I need your help.
I don't want to get burned.
All I know is I want the truth about how you feel. I want to have a clear understanding about where I stand and who I am. I want to know my importance. And if the answer is that there isn't any I want to know that too. I don't want to live in this paranoia. and I can't do this alone. I need your help.
I don't want to get burned.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Three in One
So this blog is about 3 different topics. I thought about making separate posts but I figured that this was easier. So if you're a reader, bear with me.
Green-Eyed Monster?
So I don't really consider myself an overly jealous person. I have my moments but they're not a big deal. I have no concern over the faithfulness of my boyfriend. Although I tease him sometimes, I know he would never do anything to betray me. Though I suppose this jealousy isn't about that. No this has to do with my impatience probably more than anything else. Jealousy is just an unhealthy byproduct. I can't help it though. It's one of those things that gets me instantly bitter and aggravated in seconds. Once I realize what I'm feeling I settle down but that jealousy still eats at me. I just want so badly what they have. That stupid diamond ring. See? I'm already getting upset. Hah. Everywhere I look someone is getting engaged. If I log onto facebook and see another picture of a left hand I may just explode. And that doesn't even count all the people I know that are already married, or even have kids already. People I went to school with, extended family members, people I know at church. What makes me even more mad is when they're younger than me. Or have been dating less than Chris and I have. It makes me a little crazy.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't bug Chris about this. He knows what I want and at times he sees my frustration but I'm in no position to pressure him. I know the day will come it's just a matter of when. And I'll wait. Impatiently, but I'll wait. It's just I love him so much. He's all I want now and forever. I don't want to wait because for me there's no reason to. I just want to be his. This time of year is especially difficult for me, too. With my birthday, then Christmas, then New Years, then Valentine's day, then our anniversary. Now although I have no expectation of a ring soon, I can't help but have that hope inside of me. It's a thought that pounces on me and I try to smother it as soon as it enters my head. But that's impossible. I dream about it. I find myself just sitting around doing nothing and suddenly grinning with this wonderful and yet somewhat painful tightness in my chest and butterflies in my stomach and then I get mad at myself for letting that thought come in. But what can you do? I guess nothing. As soon as Feb 26th passes it'll get a bit better. Keep praying for patience Steph.
Kayla
Being someone's best friend is a complete honor for me. Mostly because it's the highest honor I can give someone. My friend Kayla and I have been friends for seven years and our relationship is pretty strong. I have never considered her my best friend because until Erin, no one was capable of breaking down that wall I had up. But I've always been Kayla's and in the smallest ways she constantly makes a point in telling me. I love her very much and I miss her daily. She's the craziest girl I know and I have so many amazing moments with her. She makes me feel at ease and I have a little too much fun with her. We have these giggle fits that are just so ridiculously insane and that Spring Break in Cali is something I will never forget. I'm seriously laughing out loud right now. She's in the Air Force and was recently deployed but is now back home in Italy where she's stationed. We don't get to talk too much but late last night I got a text message from an unknown number. It was Kayla and she needed to talk to me. We text back and forth for over an hour and my heart was just breaking for her. She's going through a real difficult time with her husband. For a lack of a better word, he's a complete ass. Or at least he's acting like one. I just feel so useless to her. Especially being so far away. She deserves so much. I stood by her side as her maid of honor when she married this man and I had so much hope for them. But the way he treats her infuriates me. All I can do is offer up my prayers and be here to talk to when she needs me. It just seems like it's not enough though. I'm her best friend. I should at least be killing the man or something.
El Paso
I went back home to El Paso on Wednesday morning and got back a few hours ago. The trip was way too short but it was so desperately needed. I hated leaving though. My family there is all so amazing. They make me feel loved. They treat me so well and the joy on their faces when they see me is irreplaceable. I live in a house filled with different family members but besides my sister, none of them act like they care. But six hours away is a woman who raised me when my own mother wouldn't, a grandmother who is so beautiful and still filled with so much life and energy, and the best cousins and tias in the world. I hate being away from them. Seeing them was wonderful though. Going back home gave me a strength that I was lacking. Feeling their love and support made me have the hope that one day things will get better. It gave me what I needed to keep on going. I love my family so much.
Green-Eyed Monster?
So I don't really consider myself an overly jealous person. I have my moments but they're not a big deal. I have no concern over the faithfulness of my boyfriend. Although I tease him sometimes, I know he would never do anything to betray me. Though I suppose this jealousy isn't about that. No this has to do with my impatience probably more than anything else. Jealousy is just an unhealthy byproduct. I can't help it though. It's one of those things that gets me instantly bitter and aggravated in seconds. Once I realize what I'm feeling I settle down but that jealousy still eats at me. I just want so badly what they have. That stupid diamond ring. See? I'm already getting upset. Hah. Everywhere I look someone is getting engaged. If I log onto facebook and see another picture of a left hand I may just explode. And that doesn't even count all the people I know that are already married, or even have kids already. People I went to school with, extended family members, people I know at church. What makes me even more mad is when they're younger than me. Or have been dating less than Chris and I have. It makes me a little crazy.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't bug Chris about this. He knows what I want and at times he sees my frustration but I'm in no position to pressure him. I know the day will come it's just a matter of when. And I'll wait. Impatiently, but I'll wait. It's just I love him so much. He's all I want now and forever. I don't want to wait because for me there's no reason to. I just want to be his. This time of year is especially difficult for me, too. With my birthday, then Christmas, then New Years, then Valentine's day, then our anniversary. Now although I have no expectation of a ring soon, I can't help but have that hope inside of me. It's a thought that pounces on me and I try to smother it as soon as it enters my head. But that's impossible. I dream about it. I find myself just sitting around doing nothing and suddenly grinning with this wonderful and yet somewhat painful tightness in my chest and butterflies in my stomach and then I get mad at myself for letting that thought come in. But what can you do? I guess nothing. As soon as Feb 26th passes it'll get a bit better. Keep praying for patience Steph.
Kayla
Being someone's best friend is a complete honor for me. Mostly because it's the highest honor I can give someone. My friend Kayla and I have been friends for seven years and our relationship is pretty strong. I have never considered her my best friend because until Erin, no one was capable of breaking down that wall I had up. But I've always been Kayla's and in the smallest ways she constantly makes a point in telling me. I love her very much and I miss her daily. She's the craziest girl I know and I have so many amazing moments with her. She makes me feel at ease and I have a little too much fun with her. We have these giggle fits that are just so ridiculously insane and that Spring Break in Cali is something I will never forget. I'm seriously laughing out loud right now. She's in the Air Force and was recently deployed but is now back home in Italy where she's stationed. We don't get to talk too much but late last night I got a text message from an unknown number. It was Kayla and she needed to talk to me. We text back and forth for over an hour and my heart was just breaking for her. She's going through a real difficult time with her husband. For a lack of a better word, he's a complete ass. Or at least he's acting like one. I just feel so useless to her. Especially being so far away. She deserves so much. I stood by her side as her maid of honor when she married this man and I had so much hope for them. But the way he treats her infuriates me. All I can do is offer up my prayers and be here to talk to when she needs me. It just seems like it's not enough though. I'm her best friend. I should at least be killing the man or something.
El Paso
I went back home to El Paso on Wednesday morning and got back a few hours ago. The trip was way too short but it was so desperately needed. I hated leaving though. My family there is all so amazing. They make me feel loved. They treat me so well and the joy on their faces when they see me is irreplaceable. I live in a house filled with different family members but besides my sister, none of them act like they care. But six hours away is a woman who raised me when my own mother wouldn't, a grandmother who is so beautiful and still filled with so much life and energy, and the best cousins and tias in the world. I hate being away from them. Seeing them was wonderful though. Going back home gave me a strength that I was lacking. Feeling their love and support made me have the hope that one day things will get better. It gave me what I needed to keep on going. I love my family so much.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Power of Words
I fear this statement is myself being a bit of a broken record but words mean a lot to me. Perhaps even more so the written word. Or even in these days the text based. Now I tend to cringe at most compliments. I don't mean to but it's a general reflex. I used to combat them verbally all the time but I've learned to take in most of them. I am far from perfect but usually I take them graciously with a smile and just beat myself up in my head. The closer I am to you, the more struggle I put up. This is a defense mechanism to perfection. I do not consciously do it. It's partly out of necessity. At least that's what my brain tells me.
I write on this blog purely for myself. I'm not trying to create beauty or show some hidden cavern of my mind to the world. I write on here because it's an escape. I have a little journal in my purse for much of the same reason. Ever since I could write I've been praised for it. I've won contests and teacher's admiration. But even then I didn't keep writing because I thought I was good. On the contrary, I never understood the praise. I wrote because it was so much easier than speaking. I wrote because I felt something when I did. I wrote because it made me happy.
In 6th grade when my depression really started to get to me I wrote more. I wrote through journals faster than probably people could ever read them. I began writing my book toward the end of that same year. I wrote poems. I wrote short stories. I wrote every emotion I felt. And then I burned it all.
In 7th grade I had an amazing English teacher. We had to journal every day and at the end of the week we'd turn them in and he'd read them and write comments and return them to us on Monday morning. At first I was cautious about what I wrote. I didn't allow just anyone to read what I had to say. But slowly I opened up and Mr. Tolbert noticed. Each page was me telling my story and that wonderful man treated me like it was the only story that mattered. His comments were detailed and sweet. They were encouraging and wise. He made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world.
On my desk taped to my CD rack is a bright pink sticky note. The piece of tape on it is over 8 years old, but it still sticks just fine. On it are Mr. Tolbert's words.
"The passion with which you write is so deep, so powerful. I feel right along with you. You are an amazing writer and an even greater person." There are few words that have ever meant so much to me.
I'm saying all of this right now because my Abnormal Psychology professor just left a comment on something I wrote that meant a lot, too. It wasn't anything like Mr. Tolbert gave me but it's something that built me up too. Now I know I want to be a youth minister though I'm not sure for how long. If the world of pyschology has anything down the road for me I'm not sure, but my professor's words were encouraging. She said that "You write so professionally yet with the essence of heartfelt meaning that so many other's lack. You tap into concepts and ideas that mostly everyone forsakes. It is clear that you are engaging with the material beyond what is being published in the text. I am not sure what your aspirations are but a patient would be very fortunate to have you as their clinical psychologist."
I am left a little speechless.
I write on this blog purely for myself. I'm not trying to create beauty or show some hidden cavern of my mind to the world. I write on here because it's an escape. I have a little journal in my purse for much of the same reason. Ever since I could write I've been praised for it. I've won contests and teacher's admiration. But even then I didn't keep writing because I thought I was good. On the contrary, I never understood the praise. I wrote because it was so much easier than speaking. I wrote because I felt something when I did. I wrote because it made me happy.
In 6th grade when my depression really started to get to me I wrote more. I wrote through journals faster than probably people could ever read them. I began writing my book toward the end of that same year. I wrote poems. I wrote short stories. I wrote every emotion I felt. And then I burned it all.
In 7th grade I had an amazing English teacher. We had to journal every day and at the end of the week we'd turn them in and he'd read them and write comments and return them to us on Monday morning. At first I was cautious about what I wrote. I didn't allow just anyone to read what I had to say. But slowly I opened up and Mr. Tolbert noticed. Each page was me telling my story and that wonderful man treated me like it was the only story that mattered. His comments were detailed and sweet. They were encouraging and wise. He made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world.
On my desk taped to my CD rack is a bright pink sticky note. The piece of tape on it is over 8 years old, but it still sticks just fine. On it are Mr. Tolbert's words.
"The passion with which you write is so deep, so powerful. I feel right along with you. You are an amazing writer and an even greater person." There are few words that have ever meant so much to me.
I'm saying all of this right now because my Abnormal Psychology professor just left a comment on something I wrote that meant a lot, too. It wasn't anything like Mr. Tolbert gave me but it's something that built me up too. Now I know I want to be a youth minister though I'm not sure for how long. If the world of pyschology has anything down the road for me I'm not sure, but my professor's words were encouraging. She said that "You write so professionally yet with the essence of heartfelt meaning that so many other's lack. You tap into concepts and ideas that mostly everyone forsakes. It is clear that you are engaging with the material beyond what is being published in the text. I am not sure what your aspirations are but a patient would be very fortunate to have you as their clinical psychologist."
I am left a little speechless.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Challenge #1
It isn't like this is a new thing but I can't sleep because I have too much on my mind. I feel sort of like someone threw me into the deepest part of the ocean in one of the worst storms with full awareness that I don't know how to swim. Now what?
So my family is moving. Perhaps not to another state but they are moving. Moving to a smaller house. Now if you realize that there are eight people in this sort of 4 bedroom house (I say sort of because there's really only 3 but we made a den area into a 4th bedroom) and it's already plenty crowded you may be able to see the problem. Smaller is not what we need. But that of course is not my decision. However when my mom approached me and said, "We're going to move. Where are you going to go?" it made the situation just a tad bit worse. Personally.
I'm 21 years old and never ever did I believe at this age I would still be living at home. But I am and right now there's nothing I can do about that. Right now I'm out of a job and so there's no way I can afford to move out. But that's what I'm being asked to do. That's what I need to do. I have at the most 3 months. Longer if my dad decides not to leave. But either way my clock is ticking. I need money and I need it right now.
So my family is moving. Perhaps not to another state but they are moving. Moving to a smaller house. Now if you realize that there are eight people in this sort of 4 bedroom house (I say sort of because there's really only 3 but we made a den area into a 4th bedroom) and it's already plenty crowded you may be able to see the problem. Smaller is not what we need. But that of course is not my decision. However when my mom approached me and said, "We're going to move. Where are you going to go?" it made the situation just a tad bit worse. Personally.
I'm 21 years old and never ever did I believe at this age I would still be living at home. But I am and right now there's nothing I can do about that. Right now I'm out of a job and so there's no way I can afford to move out. But that's what I'm being asked to do. That's what I need to do. I have at the most 3 months. Longer if my dad decides not to leave. But either way my clock is ticking. I need money and I need it right now.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
St. Anne's
I desperately needed to get to confession today. Unfortunately there was no confession at my parish due to a mandatory work furlough. So my sister and I had to go elsewhere. We ended up going to the newly constructed St. Mary Magdalene. The outside of the building was beautiful and the inside was just as elegant. As I sat inside praying however I couldn't help but think about St. Anne's. The picture I took on my phone yesterday evening as I waited in the narthex for more parishioners to come in for mass came to my mind. I thought about how beautiful my home parish is. It isn't just cosmetic either. It's beautiful because it's home. The moment I first understood and knew where I belonged happened inside this building. I am a lector, an extraordinary minister, a core member and an usher in this community. There is no church on earth that could give me the same feeling as the one I get when I step foot merely on the property. It's as though my whole heart is inside that golden tabernacle on the altar. In fact, I think it is.
When it comes to marriage I'm as girly as it gets. The idea of a wedding is always somewhere in the back of my head. At times at the forefront. It isn't a thought or desire I can shut off. I've always wanted to be loved by someone. I've always wanted to be in love and live that perhaps unrealistic version of happily ever after. A wedding dress is the one dress that I've ever wanted to wear. I dream about what everything will look like, who will be there, and how I'll feel. But my dream has never been so clear and complete as it is right now. But it's more than me knowing who I want to marry. It's knowing that I only want to be married at St. Anne's. There is no other place in the whole world I rather be joined in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony.
As I continued to sit and think the realization that one day I'll have to leave this parish hurt me. I may not ever work there. My children will probably not be baptized there. One day I'll have to pack my bags and leave Gilbert, AZ and the St. Anne Roman Catholic Community right along with it. But I doubt I'll ever love this place any less. It will always be home.
When it comes to marriage I'm as girly as it gets. The idea of a wedding is always somewhere in the back of my head. At times at the forefront. It isn't a thought or desire I can shut off. I've always wanted to be loved by someone. I've always wanted to be in love and live that perhaps unrealistic version of happily ever after. A wedding dress is the one dress that I've ever wanted to wear. I dream about what everything will look like, who will be there, and how I'll feel. But my dream has never been so clear and complete as it is right now. But it's more than me knowing who I want to marry. It's knowing that I only want to be married at St. Anne's. There is no other place in the whole world I rather be joined in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony.
As I continued to sit and think the realization that one day I'll have to leave this parish hurt me. I may not ever work there. My children will probably not be baptized there. One day I'll have to pack my bags and leave Gilbert, AZ and the St. Anne Roman Catholic Community right along with it. But I doubt I'll ever love this place any less. It will always be home.
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