irrational

February 14, 2011 at 6:04 am (Uncategorized)

blogging when you know that no one is reading is irrational.

resenting your own inadequacies while knowing that your motivation to better yourself is absent is irrational.

wishing that circumstance would shift you you plan on doing nothing different in your actions to alter it is irrational.

i guess irrational is where i turn when i feel like logic has been exhausted and was left panting by the side of the road two months back.

i feel like i’ve told people i care about that i’m hurting. i’ve told them that i’m lonely. i’ve told them the results of recent diagnosis. i’ve told them that i can’t seem to reconnect with God. and pretty much all i hear is “man, that sucks.”

i feel that familiar, hopeless feeling that i felt when i saw that same look in peoples eyes as a broken 16 year old.  the look that says “i have no idea what to do with you, and i’m uncomfortable with that and so the best i can do is pat you on the head and hope that things get better.” although this time i dont see the added terror that said ” i sure hope to God that you are still around in the morning.” but in a very twisted way, that brought a little bit more comfort because even though i didnt necessarily feel love and compassion from those people, and even though some of their concern arose from a sense of self preservation, not wanting anything extreme to reflect badly on themselves…they still put forth effort.

i feel like george michael on arrested development, who for three seasons of shows tries to tell his dad about the girl who he has a crush on (it’s his cousin…weird…so thats not related to how i feel!). he tells his dad that he only hears what he wants to. i feel like that. i feel like i share even really vulnerable things like my eating habits or the darker thoughts that not only find their way into my head but are allowed to stay a while and frequent freely…and they are never acknowledged.

i feel like a child. like i’m crying out for help…and yet even my own echoes never return to me.  and yet now every time i allow something to pass through my lips, it gets quieter and quieter. because the hurt i feel from shouting loudly and having no response, only seems to fuel the pain that triggered the cry in the first place.

and when you’re sixteen…everyone expects you to be dramatic anyway. when you’re 24 you should be more mature. it doesnt really matter, nothing terrible is happening anyway.  it’s more of a phase, really.  you’ll get over it soon enough.

and every snub, every bypass, every unanswered plea simply serves as another set of chains keeping my head and heart in darkness and bondage.

i try to walk in truth. and i do. i make the choice daily. and then i dont know what happens. it feels like darkness swells in my chest choking me. like someone walks up and slaps me hard in the face and as i hit the ground, the cage reforms around me. and that moment is not a circumstance or a conversation…not something in the natural that happens that dissolves the cupcake reality i tried to con into existence.  its different. it’s pure darkness that dangles the key of freedom in my face, scoffing my feeble attempts with the evidence of my captivity.

i feel helpless.  like i’m trying to do all the right things and walk in truth and i only find myself standing in the same place i started…only bruised and sweaty and exhausted and alone.

Jesus, please. i’m looking for you.  i spend time each morning trying to find you in your book. it says that if i’m looking for you, you’ll be found. i’m looking for you really hard. i will continue until you come out. but i hurt. i hurt badly. i know you hear me! please! i beg you. please come rescue me.

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trick bottle

February 13, 2011 at 9:09 am (Uncategorized)

you know those baby dolls that come with a bottle that when you tip it back, the liquid inside disappears mysteriously?

that feels like my day.  i spent the day with some really lovely people.  for all intents and purposes, it should have been a wonderful day.

and yet the only part in hindsight that was really good was that we named our house after a home on harry potter.

what is wrong with me?  i feel like i’m stuck inside a shell of an existence that looks like me, talks like me and wears my cowboy boots.  but it’s as empty as that tipped bottle.  i feel like i’m a stain on the earth, only absorbing resources…incapable of helping anyone or doing anything beneficial.

oh! but lets not neglect mentioning the anomaly days.  the days that i choose to be, for WHATEVER reason, to be a walking wound. I wait for flaming arrows to fly by and i throw myself shamelessly into their path.

in fact, as twisted as this sounds, maybe its the days that i’m so desperate to escape my chrysalis of ice that i desire feeling pain…over feeling nothing.

i feel like i’ve been falling down a spiral staircase…for months and months. and there have been a few times that i feel like i’ve hit the bottom. but then it ends up being a small landing before other floors open up.

UGH.  Listen to me. I sound like an extreme fatalist.  Oh God…help me.

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how many times?

February 8, 2011 at 6:33 am (Uncategorized)

how many times in the past month have i come to this page, written a gross upheaval of emotion and then deleted it?

how many times in the past few weeks have i felt completely unable to describe how i feel?

how many times have i directed passionate anger at circumstance?

too many.  and it frustrates me to the core.  not because i wish things were easier, but that i’m upset that i can’t snap out of it.  that all sense of perspective is lost on me.

i have a wonderful time with God, and then something happens and i feel like i’ve been slapped down again, face first in the mud and muck of my own inadequacy.  Then kept down as the foreboding sense of responsibility and urgency trample on my back.

i feel as though i live in a constant state of stress. i could list for you all the things that i have to do…that i’m expected to do…that i’m responsible for.  but i would probably have a heart attack and not finish the blog.  which would be anti-climactic.

this is the most alone i’ve felt in 6 years.

i have friends who are in much more dire situations than mine, and yet i’m crippled by chains of financial confinement, rampant anxiety, and utter exhaustion from my work responsibilities. and its the inability to shake the chains off that infuriates me the most. my own intangible burden prohibits me from being the friend i want to be.  i’m at the place where i’m so weak that i can barely even force it anymore, even though i so deeply want to. i know it’s a choice, that’s what makes me want to scream. and yet when i choose it, i find myself even more devoid of hope and energy.  why?  WHY?

God, where are you?  like, seriously.  where are you?  i’m not knocking anymore, i’m pounding and pleading, fists bloodied and knees given way.  open the damn door.

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January 11, 2011 at 8:45 am (Uncategorized)

There’s the kind of broken where the cracked vase allows more light to shine through.  There’s the kind of broken that when the bones mend they are stronger than they were before.  There’s the kind of broken that is only temporarily in that state…awaiting inevitable mending. There’s the broken like those collapsable zebras; push the bottom and they crumple, release and the strings become taut and they reassemble.

Then there’s this broken.  The hopeless broken.  The contented broken.  The broken acceptance.

Where the desire to be made whole is non-existent…and not doesn’t even want to attempt to surface.

If you’re not whole…how can you find the strength to WANT to be?

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Back in the closet

December 13, 2010 at 9:35 pm (Uncategorized)

I remember so clearly the day that God healed me.  The vision I got was that I had been living this life in a tiny, dark room.  And one day God showed me a handle.  I turned and discovered that I had been living in a small dark closet in a gorgeous, huge mansion.  I just hadn’t know it.  The freedom was incredible.  My life was never the same.

And now I feel as though I have been doing my thing, living in and exploring this house and someone grabbed me and threw me back in the closet and locked the door.

The worst part is that this house has been filled with people I love who know me.  But truly only my parents know just how dark that closet was.  I tell people and the reaction I get is “I can’t imagine you like that.” And then I even have people talk to my brother and say “Was she really as bad as she says she was?”  He answers “whatever she told you…it was worse.”

This is a compliment.  A huge testimony to the amazing things that God has done in my life.  I havent really even told anyone the full story of what bipolar did to me.  And what it made me.  I’m so content to leave it behind.  Until now.

Now I feel as though I’m screaming at the top of my lungs as this force drags me back to the closet.  But no one seems to hear.  I cannot verbalize the depths of the darkness.  No one truly knows the terror that awaits me in that closet.  Yes, that sounds like a super emotional “no-one-understands-me” kind of thing.  But the reality is, until you experience it, you cannot know it.  And everyone who knows me now, doesn’t know that darkness.  I share with people that I’m not doing well, and even that these things are coming back, and there little, if any, response.  How much more clearly can I say it?

I feel as though I’m drowning as more and more symptoms flood my head and heart.  And there is no answer.

I KNOW that I am not the only one in pain.  And I long with all I am to be there for those who are hurting.  And yet I cannot.  This is bipolar.  I cannot.  I want to, and yet it feels as though I have an invisible leash on that my head cannot move past.  Even though I know it’s not real, it’s real to my head.  Sometimes I feel as though I know the horror of schizophrenia.  Everyone can tell you that what you hear/see isnt real, but if your brain thinks it is…it is.  Such is this collar.  I KNOW I have control.  I know I can make choices, and yet this force renders me paralyzed, and any effort to combat it feels impossibly close to tangible physical pain.

The exhaustion of living life, and making a single phone call and even sending a text rears it’s ugly head.  The pain of each moment as my heart literally feels like it’s breaking.  Having terrible dreams and all day long having them mix with my memories and confusing reality and having my body turn ice cold and realizing that I’ve been clenching my jaw for a few hours.  I stay awake til 3am every night with a movie running, and playing on my iPod in an effort to distract myself to keep my thoughts from running.  The constant headache.  I’m angry.  All the time.  Lies play on tapes on repeat in my head.  I have thoughts that I have not had in years, that I am far too ashamed to type.  And the memories all too well of spending all my excess energy to function normally.  I am in this closet that it feels as though no one else can see.  And this on top of the pain I feel from the loss of little Eisley.  So knowing that I have real pain, and things to process…and it’s overshadowed by this looming cloud.  I have pushed it down.  Forced numb-ness on myself because every time I try to feel it…or process her loss…I have a panic attack, or like I’m going to throw up.  As if my body cannot contain the emotion I’m overloading it with.  So I’ve forced my body into a state of numb-ness to survive.

I am in survival mode.  I just need to get to Saturday.  Just to Saturday.  To get to my doctor.  I avoid people, because even interacting with people makes me sick to my stomach, and like the anxiety is going to choke me.

And I’m angry.  If I’m being honest, I’m furious.  This was not supposed to happen.  I was in bondage for so long and as the chains wrap around me again, I wonder where my savior is.  I got used to this life, this mindset…at its worst.  But I’m not used to it now.  I dont know how to cope now.  I dont know how to reconcile this with what has been revealed to me.  Fortunately this is not even near to how bad it used to be, but it’s like the person who was beaten every day and then when rescued, gets slapped around a little bit and FREAKS out, as all those emotions and fear come flooding back.  More than anger…I’m afraid.  I would never be able to express in words the deep fear in my heart.  I’m afraid of the terrible thoughts that come up in my head.  I’m afraid of how I’m treating the people I love.  I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff that is giving way to a dark hole…that I know all too well.  And I can’t back up, I can’t get off the rubble, I’m watching myself slip down into it.

My favorite verse is Galatians 5:1 it is for freedom that Christ set us free, so stand firm and don’t be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

It’s a choice.  I know that.  I KNOW that.  And yet, that blockage that kept me from revelation of God in my head has been re-established.  And it tells me that regardless of what I know it cannot be helped.  It’s so twisted.  And that makes me even madder.  The fact that now I know the truth and my brain keeps me powerless.  Honestly, people can tell me anything they want…but you just can’t know how tight the bondage runs until you feel it.

I have been told that I’m a medical impossibility by professionals to my face.  You’re not supposed to know what it’s like from bipolar…to not.  I am thankful.  I AM.  But the pain I feel…to know the darkness…see the light…and be dragged back under causes so my grief that I feel so broken.

As I write this I’m frustrated because even this doesn’t feel sufficient to communicate how I feel.  Which makes me mad because I usually can express things in words.  But there it is.  I tried.

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Twelve and Thirteen and Fourteen

November 14, 2010 at 6:46 pm (Uncategorized)

Day 12: Something you never get complimented on

My face.  (Chuckles) sounds funny, but I was going to say my eyes…then I realized I don’t get compliments on any of my facial features, or just on my face at all.  I get complimented on my booty almost every day by a kind co-worker!  And hair often, too.  And lately my hands!  (I paint my nails just about every day these days.)  And most often, something I’m wearing, as I wear outrageous bold things quite a lot.

Day 13: A band that got you through a hard time

GOSH.  This is hard.  Ah!  I checked my iTunes for the most hits.  And it was rather enlightening.  A guy named Chris wrote a song that my friend Darren put on his CD.  It’s called “From God.” I have listened to that song quite a bit when I’m having a hard time.  (Not lately, though.  Lately I have used music to take me beyond what is swirling in my head and to a more joyful place…so the thanks is due to Lady Gaga there.)  But that song…I heard it for the first time in DTS and it struck so deep a chord of truth in my heart.  I think I have to listen to it on repeat because the first few times, I struggle to receive it.  But then as is saturates my mind and heart, I remember that this is the truth I believe and hold on to.

Day 14:  A letter to a hero who has let you down.

SKIP.

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Seven Eleven

November 3, 2010 at 1:02 am (Uncategorized)

Not JUST a break from the heat in Thailand!

So my 30 Days continues.  But I’m following suit here with Jami…numbers eight through ten.  Not because I want to hide deep, dark secrets.  I just think that actually it would make me sad to think about these things.  And as that is not my hope in this process, the fact that this is my blog, and that I’m a few days behind anyway, make this okay 🙂

Day 7:  Someone who has made your life worth living for

I will go a little unconventional on this one.  I have been blessed with a beautiful, loving family.  I have had (and STILL do!) mentors who love and care about me deeply.  And, the one that I’m most aware of right now, I honestly have the most amazing friends in the world.  But there is one person that I feel as though was a miraculous appearance in my life.  That has not only made my life worth living, but many people in my family (including me, sometimes) feel as though I’m still alive because of her.  Two different things, see?  One makes life worth it, one is responsible for its continued existence.

Let me tell you about Sherene.  Sherene is a mom.  A mom whose daughter was going to go off the deep end as she battled with a debilitating case of bipolar disorder.  She tried everything:  doctors, medicine, counselors, homeschooling, public school.  And nothing changed.  She had no intention on giving up, even in the face of her daughter’s deep depression and possible attempts at suicide.  Long story short, she heard of a treatment called “neuro-feedback” or EEG Biofeedback. And she decided to learn it.

Her daughter was success story #1.  As she went on in the process, she started questioning some of the techniques…wondering if it could be made quite significantly more effective.  All the facilitators in her profession said she was crazy.  But her results were different from anyone else’s.  Instead of being forced into the necessity of lifetime maintenance, her subjects had conclusive, finite results.  From ADHD andy anxiety to bipolar and schizophrenia, Sherene’s results were undeniable.

And her waiting list for an appointment was 3 years long.

But Sherene is not just incredibly intelligent, fiesty, and practical.  She has a heart.  And the day that she heard the desperate pleas from my parents from the other end of the telephone, she didn’t hesitate before saying, “I’ll see her today.”

It’s hard to say what would have happened if God had not miraculously had Sherene happen to live in the same neighborhood as my Aunt Ginny.  If they had never met.  If Sherene had never questioned what was solid, concrete fact of brain training. And I can never describe the depth of darkness that enveloped the heart and soul of 17-year-old me.  I’ve never ached to die, disdained hope, or loathed love like that girl did.  Me, the girl who rendered dozens of drugs in a myriad of combinations, counselors and doctors useless to taint the power of that everlasting night.

But I never have to find out.  Sherene may not have saved my life in the literal sense.  But she saved just about everything else.

11: Something you seem to always get complimented on

Gosh!  Can I say my shoes?  Because that probably is the thing I get complimented on the most.  My Osiris high-tops.  Peter Warren said I was blinding him with them.  I think that’s a compliment!

But about me personally (and not just my amazing taste in footwear) it’s hard to say.  Once someone told me I had nice eyelashes.  My friend Jae told me I have a nice butt.  Oh!  Sometimes when people look closely at my hands they say I have nice, deep nailbeds!  Who knew?!

Okay serious now.  Ah, actually maybe I have it.  The last time I taught a large group of people, the comment that was most prevalent was that I have a lot of passion when I teach.  What they DON’T know is that I have learned is that this is the ONLY way I can teach, or I just fail at it epically.  The few times I tried to teach on something I just felt mildly inspired by, I might have been standing behind a podium describing and displaying the methods for filleting a guinea pig.  Yeah.  That bad.  So while I appreciate the compliment, and I love that my passion comes across…I know that this is the only option.  Or I might as well just start carving up your pets.

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Day 5&6

October 26, 2010 at 6:21 pm (Uncategorized)

Day 5: Something you hope to do in your life

There are many.  One could take this question, as in all these questions, so many different directions. 

I hope to adopt a special needs child someday.  I was going to say baby.  But maybe there is a 17 year old out there who needs to know, just even for a moment that someone wanted them.  I’m beginning to understand in greater and greater measure the power of adoption.  The significance of it. 

Forgive me, I used to think that it would be irresponsible for a single person to adopt a child.  But why on earth would a child be better off in an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage than in a home with one parent who wants to dedicate their life to love him?  I dont think it’s ideal, the system that God set-up definitely has its advantages.  But I was thinking the other day, if I had the opportunity to change a child’s life today…right now…would I?  It would terrify the tar out of me.  But in reality, who is ready to be a parent?  One day you aren’t one.  The next day, you are. 

Day 6: Something you hope you never have to do.

Watch helplessly as a psychological disorder or cirumstances of life tears apart someone I love to destruction.

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Day 3 and 4

October 26, 2010 at 5:51 pm (Uncategorized)

Day Three: Something you have to forgive yourself for.

I mentioned earlier that what I really like about myself was that I’m quick to forgive.  Unfortunately, I’ve never chosen to extend that grace to myself.  I’d say that these days about 60% of the thoughts in my head are that of regret and analyzing scenes of my life on instant replay, dissecting every moment, agonizing over how I could have done it differently.  Not the healthiest I suppose!

I think I need to forgive myself for the relationships I’ve hurt and for the deep regrets I have in my times of leadership.  Yesterday the director of our organization said something to the effect of “Leadership is not for the weak.”  Psht. I know that’s right.  In face.  I wonder…do I despise leadership because (as I’ve told myself over and over again) it’s not my natural gifing?  Or is it because I’m weak.  I need to think this through, but I’m inclined to think it’s both…with a stronger lean on the latter. 

Whoa. Tangent. I take my responsibility in relationships and in leadership really seriously.  Because I know the reprocussions are so severe.  I’m not the best at either, but I know their weight.  I have a deep desire to be loyal. Ever since I was a child, I struggled with friendships because I would get so hurt all the time. My expectation of loyalty is so high.  And yet, I’m so human and fail at that so often.  But the things I cannot yet forgive myself for are the damages done in those two avenues.  The ones that carry the most weight and responsibility.  Because it’s not just an easy fix.  My shortcomings in these areas are such that people’s understanding of others and of themselves are at serious risk of being influenced by detrimental consequences.  Because of my words, actions…or in-actions. 

Day 4:  Someone I need to forgive

Today I need to forgive Dorothy Jean. Dorothy Jean hit my car while driving recklessly up a winding mountain road.  Dorothy Jean knew it was her fault.  Dorothy Jean then proceded to lie.  And her insurance won’t pay for my poor Pizza to get fixed.  Dorothy Jean stole about $1000 from me. 

Whew, I’m still a little ruffled.  But I will, right now, choose to say aloud that I forgive Dorothy Jean.  I forgive her for driving dangerously.  For lying. For the angst in my heart that her actions caused.  I forgive her for not apologizing.

I pray that she would be blessed.  That she and the cars around her would be protected as she drives.  I pray that she would become friends with Jesus.

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The 30 Days List

October 26, 2010 at 3:56 pm (Uncategorized)

Day 1: Something you hate about yourself.
Day 2: Something you love about yourself.
Day 3: Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 4: Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 5: Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 6: Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 7: Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 8: Someone who made your life hell, or treated you badly.
Day 9: Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10: Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11: Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12: Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13: A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough days. (write a letter.)
Day 14: A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15: Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16: Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17: A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18: Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19: What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20: Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21: (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22: Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23: Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24: Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25: The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26: Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27: What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28: What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29: Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30: A letter to yourself: tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

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