Abnormal. A life of meaning.

I've always used writing.  As a tool, as a therapy, as a weapon.  I can write when I cannot speak, and when the words won't come to my lips, they come to my fingertips.  May the writing bring the words to you and the peace to me, because it's too late for anything else.  There's nothing left now but the writing. I have so much to say to you and no more time now to say the things that need saying.  I cannot make sense of it, I cannot breathe around the loss of you.   I have so many regrets, so much I wish I would have done.  So much.  I don't even know what to say to you.  I tried, there at your viewing, standing at your coffin and gazing at what used to be you.  I tried to say the things that needed saying, but the words wouldn't come.  It was too late to say them anyway. Instead, I cried for you.  I cried and in my head it was "no, no, no, no, NO!"   Everything went through my mind then.  That wasn't you and this i...

"I really miss your writing," she wrote. "Hmm," I wrote back.  "Maybe I should write again." One day later I am standing in a room with people who are there to celebrate a life while mourning a loss.  There are about a thousand children and they are joyful in a way that only children can be.  Tears mix with the happy shouts and laughter of the little ones, and it is a perfect illustration of the evening.  My niece sees me, and she heads for me.  Her face smiles as she walks to me, but her eyes do not.  Her eyes show relief and an infinite sadness.  She wraps her arms around me.  I hold her and my heart hurts for her.  It takes me only a second to realize she's not letting go, and that is fine by me.   I wrap my arms and my coat around her and try to give her a safe place to cry in a room full of people.  She is so young for this...I remember this. Nothing should hurt so much when you're that young.  It is the most unfair of ...

I'm reading a new book this week. Though I read a lot, it is this book in particular that inspires me to write again.  The book itself is amazing, as unique and raw and honest as the man who wrote it.   "If You Feel Too Much" is written by Jamie Tworkowski , the founder of To Write Love On Her Arms , the nonprofit organization dedicated to connecting people to help and hope and doggedly standing by the idea that "Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important."  Now, this blog isn't going to spiral into a book review, but I will say this: I hope I can do half the good with my life that Jamie has done with his.  It's a book everyone should read.  Read it! I've often wondered who I am, when you boil it all down, when you remove all the things that just don't matter.  What's left?  For so long I thought I was a cutter, a sexual abuse victim, a freak, someone with PTSD, a burden.  But now I wonder what else I might be.   Is it possible ...

I am not weak.  Weakness makes you a target, it makes you a victim.  I stand for the weak, I fight for the weak, I shelter and help and give hope to the weak, but I am never, never the weak.  I can't be weak, not ever again.  Who am I? This is is one of those questions I thought I'd answered a very long time ago that has suddenly popped up and become irritatingly relevant once again. So who am I?  What defines me as a human being? What has made me?  I had a conversation about this tonight.  How can I be both the person who loves the God of Peace and turns to cutting at the eleventh hour?  The paradox. What made me?  A lifetime of knowing God, of loving and trusting and hating and clinging to Him.  But that isn't the only thing that made me.  There was another that molded me, pursued me, tortured me, and stole everything from me.  It is he that chases me in my dreams and my waking nightmares, that haunts me in everyt...

Someone told me recently that I should write again.  I think it's worth a try...I miss it.  There is something cleansing about putting pen to paper...or fingers to keys in this case.  I don't know if I can really promise this will be anything anyone would want to read, but hey.  Maybe that someone was right.  Maybe I can write something that will make a difference to someone.  I don't know if I can pull that off, but I know this...I can write. Maybe it's appropriate, then, that I start with a letter to you once more.  I never could really pray out loud, not like I could on paper.  I think that maybe, this is long overdue.  I miss you. Why is it I'm always saying that?   I miss you.   Like it was ever you that walked away. A lot has happened since I last visited these pages, and I find that so very much has changed.  So much so, that I don't even know where to start.  And so my thoughts will wander...do try to keep up...

I'm not a game-player. You want something from me? Ask. You're mad at me? Tell me why. You think the world revolves around you? Well, you're wrong. And if you see something wrong, and you aren't willing to help make it right? Then get out of the way. And stay out of my way. Because I'm not like you. I'm not willing to sit and mope about the stupid crap that doesn't matter. And I'm DEFINITELY not going to make that my daily life. What's the point? What does it matter if the world doesn't sit at your feet? What makes you so special anyway? There are some good people in this world. Some of them will help. Some of them need help. All of them are braver than you've ever been. So get over yourself. Get a grip. Open your eyes. Help someone besides yourself, and maybe you'll see that your so-called problems really aren't the big picture.

A man came into my store today,I had helped him earlier in the week.  This man is Santa.  No, really..white beard, cherry red nose and everything.  He's actually a career Santa, and it's heading into his busy season.  He was talking to my boss, and I was eavesdropping (cuz that's how I roll...), and what he said floored me.  He said you would never believe how many grown people come up to him and say "Santa, I need a full time job for Christmas".  He then said he often hears parents coaching their kids, which would be funny, but he says these kids come up and ask for a toy, and mom leans down and whispers, "no, sweetie...tell Santa we need food."  Talk about perspective.

Ah, I do miss blogging. I'm having a wee little crisis of direction lately. I'm currently attending Norfolk State University (Go Spartans!), majoring in Social Work. Now aside from the fact that it feels as though I'll be done in fifty or so years, I can't decide where my heart truly lies. I have a gift and a calling for teens, and I have a heart for "youth in distress"--be it foster children, abused children, struggling teens, teen moms, homeless youth...you get the idea. This is where I've assumed I would go. This is where I wanted to be--working to make things better for the youth that would be the future. But. I have undeniably also always had a heart for the homeless, and impoverished. The spark turned to flame upon meeting Tally and a few others, whose passion including helping people, especially those living in poverty and homelessness. Tally challenged me to open my eyes, and I did. Now, even though Tally and his family have moved away a...

This is Andy. He lives in Ecuador. Now, ya can't have Andy, 'cause he's MY buddy. :) Andy has a sponsor, but many of the kids don't. Check out www.compassion.com and make a difference. Help a Child Not the giving type? Try www.Kiva.org --you loan small amounts of money and get paid back! Even getting your money back and you can still make a difference. C'mon...what's the worst that can happen?

No real reason for this blog.  Just felt like it.  :)   Truth is, I'm still too far from Him.  But I'm getting there.  Goin back to school...social work.  It just clicked one day.  So I'm excited. Impatient.  I haven't cut in weeks.  Months,even.  I can breathe, most of the time.  I feel ok. I need to get back on the meds, so that my body stands a chance.  We are moving in with Bev and Damien, so that should be interesting. ..hehe.  The baby thing?  Well, the truth is,  I think somewhere along the way, I just stopped believing it would ever happen.  In a way, I mourn the loss of that hope almost as much as the absence of the baby I've never met.  The baby I don't think I ever will.  Maybe, now that my heart seems to have finally given up, it won't hurt so much.  Maybe. Well, I have to open in the morning, so I'm headed to bed.  I love my husband.  I love my God.  I'm on my ...

I feel lost tonight. In a funk. It's more than that though. I guess I could blame it on my lack of antidepressants, but why do I need chemicals to be antidepressed? The darkness is closer to me now, the lack of light heavier. Hopelessness makes it hard to breathe, and I just don't see what is so wrong with me. "Tell them to look up". Why can't I remember to look up? Wake up, you're alive. We're on your side. Rescue is possible. You aren't alone. But I AM alone tonight. My thoughts conspire against my will. I feel numb. I can't seem to breathe. But I can bleed. I do not want to die inside just to breathe in... i'm tired of feeling so numb... relief exists, I find it when... [I am cut]

Save me O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. I am worn out calling for help, my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God. (Psalm 69:1-3) I'm sinking. I'm drowning. And all the while I'm searching for you, with what little strength I have left. I'm tired. Tired of everything. I'm not alone, and to say so would be insufferably selfish and a lie. I turn to the weak person's comfort, making me hate myself, and yet...it is my only comfort. Comfort in the pain...yeah, that makes sense... I could blame it on being off the meds, but then, why can't I be happy without some chemical programming my brain? What the hell is wrong with me? I've known, academically anyway, that other people don't feel like I do. But I've never felt so...trapped, like I did today. It hurts to stand, it takes every ounce of energy to wal...

Oh, forgot to tell ya! I got a puppy not too long ago, her name is Graceland, we call her Gracie. She's a black lab, and a major sweetheart with a SERIOUS belly-rub addiction. Enjoy her cutesy-ness! :)

Hello, blogworld! Guess who? Yeahhh, you thought I was gone, huh? Well BOO....now I'm back and you have to listen to me ramble again! Muwahaha... so anyway... Biggest failure lately: I started smoking again. Yeah, I know...I'm an idiot. I quit for over a year and a half--frickin awesome! Then I screwed it all up. On the bright side, I ditched the bad habit that I picked up when I quit smoking. I'm not sure which is worse. Smoking is worse for my health if you ask me, but it's the 'socially acceptable' crutch. At least nobody wants to admit me to the loony bin for lighting up a Marlboro... I've been less than proud of myself these past few months. Maybe I'll find the strength to get myself together again. The gap is back, and I miss the closeness and comfort, the purpose and all that goes with a life lived with meaning. When did I give up hope? When did I decide it wasn't worth my effort anymore? What an idiot! Baby thing? Still there...