Thursday, July 19, 2012

Tears


Some days…

I wonder what’s wrong with me and why the tears don’t stop flowing. When I should be rejoicing in the glory of God and the gift that we all have an open invitation into the heavens I think to myself that I am a lowly sinner, why do I deserve such special care?

I realize that I am a child of God and that I am created in His likeness and that I spread His Word, I pray to Him for thanks, I pray in sorrow. I live my life (most of the time) offering thanks to Him for all that I have and for all that I don’t have.

Then…

I think it is too good to be true, the pain and anguish of having a living God and eternal life is overwhelming. I fear living another 27 years in hell the way I already have, I fear the rest of my life regardless of whether He is in it or not and the idea of “life” after death is even more worrisome if it comes with this pain.

This pain that knows only loss and grief. This pain that hurts into my soul and causes the tears to flow. The knowledge that someone will die and the feelings that I am responsible despite my knowing that life and death is up to God and God alone.

I hope to not be blamed again by others because I have been blamed in the past. I have been blamed for the death of people even when I am miles away all because I thought it, I dreamt it, I knew ahead of time.

I have predicted death, war, cause of death, accidents.

I see the lost souls of people and have to tell them they are dead to go into the light. I am touched nearly every night by a little girl who misses her mommy. She plays with my hair as I sit here and watch TV or chat. Her little fingers making my head tingle where she touches as her energy connects with mine each night before her bedtime. She doesn’t want to go to the other side. She wants to stay here and wait on her mom who is long since gone on. You think parenting a living child is hard; imagine convincing one who is no longer in the physical realm. In a sense I have adopted her. Or, maybe I am na├»ve in saying that and she has adopted me.

I…

Have this pain deep within me that I can’t quite explain. It is like energy is tearing through my body and wringing me out emotionally. I am sure everyone who knows me has noticed that I am far sterner and less flexible in my ability to “accept”.

On a happier note…

My plans to take things a step at a time are working better than I had thought. It is hard to say I love myself, because I really don’t, but I have hope that maybe one day I will. The people around me tell me they love me, so maybe I should love me too.

I have started the insane and dreaded daunting task of cleaning up and getting things organized. I know it’s only been a few days or weeks since I have decided I am moving and I have to do all this stuff but I think it is for the best. I realized by looking around here that the perfectionist in me was never going to get anything done because it couldn’t go from 0 to 10 with the limitations I have right now. So I started to just take a couple of minutes a few times a day and fill a bag or box with items for either the trash, to pack, or to donate. I have an ever growing pile both inside and out, slowly but surely it is getting done a few minutes at a time. The Christmas tree is still up. The one time of year I hate the most and I have a reminder of it smack in the middle of my house.

Taking down that tree gives me anxiety. It’s never bothered me before. Usually it goes up the day after thanksgiving and is taken down on Boxing Day. This year taking it down is symbolic for some reason. Like the black tree represents something deeper emotionally that I haven’t been able to pinpoint quite yet. Only one ornament has broken between thanksgiving and now. Not bad considering I have a cat and two dogs.

Finding…

That to live, laugh and love are harder words to live by then all the ornaments in the world would suggest.

Hoping…

That one day I can live by those three words and that the unconditional love I have for those around me is enough to allow “live” and “laugh” to come to me in the genuine sense of the words.

Maybe one day I will find happiness, or at least have a taste of it, so I know what everyone always talks about. My happiness scale never goes beyond content. I can’t recall a time in my life where I was ever jubilant over anything or for nothing. I can’t define happiness because it is something I have never experienced. I have always been serious, the observer, the one who absorbs the pains of those around me so that they can find happiness in the turmoil that the world sets before us. Carrying the weight of other peoples’ pains and knowing that sacrificing me to take away even an ounce of hurt is worth the hurt I feel each day.

I want…

To be held and comforted and to know that each day I wake up is worth waking up for. I want to know I am not alone in the pain I feel because someone loves me enough to hold me, to whisper in my ear everything will be okay and that we will get through it through prayer and Gods’ grace.

To no longer fear the inevitable.

To allow the key that I have held all this time to slip into the lock and remove the shackles that I wore for so much of my life and for my raw flesh to be caressed and kissed and healed by the person that God has created just for me.

To be married and not have to worry about fighting and bickering because we are a united front on the same page ethically, morally, spiritually.

To look inside myself so I can find who I really am beyond the depths that I am forever trapped in.

To be me, whoever that is!



“Hands over my head thinking 'what else could go wrong?'

Would've stayed in bed, how can a day be so long?

Never believed that things happen for a reason

But how this turned out, you moved all my doubts, oh believe

That for you I'll do it all over again

Do it all over again

All I went through, led me to you

So I'd do it all over again

For you”

~Bruno Mars, Again~






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