I remember when I tried to kill myself I was in high school I think, 9th grade. It was somewhere between my sisters' death and my first abortion. I drank some medicine we had leftover from when I had mono (I was NOT kissing boys I was sharing food and drinks with my friends -don't judge) But I drank this medicine wrote a goodbye letter and waited.. but nothing happened. Looking back I should have drank more than the swig I took (it was nasty) and medicine that is expired does lose some potency. My Mother found me and my letter and initial yelled. I'm pretty sure she was scared and confused as to why her oldest child would want to kill herself. I remember her telling me how selfish suicide is. And She was telling the truth. Suicide is selfish. When your in that space your thinking Me dead is easier for everyone. This doesn't seem a very selfish thing to think on the surface but in actuality, it's pride that makes us unwilling to say Ouch. It's pride that caused me to say I'm going to die instead of asking for help. It sucks and I know it's not nice to say but if you unwilling to get help for fear of how it will effect others your prideful and judgmental, and your judging yourself worst than anyone else will.
I was 30 when I find out I had depression. My only suicide attempt was in my Freshman year of High School. I never spoke about it again because I never considered it a defining part in my life. It was more like a mistake that I was saved from. The last few weeks/months have been hard for me. I thought it was nothing i was just tired. I thought maybe it was anxiety with the new job, maybe the kids being seniors, lack of sex I didn't know i just knew it had been a hard few months. I didn't want go out. I didn't want to work out (i never want to work out) I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to cook. I just wanted to sit and think or sleep and read. I'll want to go outside but the amount of effort it would take to get up and get ready was more than I had to give. Even now, right now it's taken me 3 days to write this post because I can't make myself care enough to do it and finish and proof read and think. It's Effort. Depression is not about being sad all day or crying it's about being in a state of blah. I don't know how else to explain it.
Imagine being on the beach when a bad storm comes in you take cover and wait for it to pass. But it never really passes all the way there is still an overcast, and some showers. Then one day you look and see sunshine on the other side of the beach, but to get to it you have to go through a ditch. Now, you can sit comfortable in the gloomy skies and annoying mist OR you can jump the ditch. IF you decide to jump in the ditch you'll soon realize it is full of quicksand and about midday just when you finish with that it turns into tar and it gets harder then you get to the edge but before you can get to the sunshine you have to climb a the wall of the ditch. And when you get to the top of the wall and you finally get out the ditch your tired. But your scared that IF you allow yourself to sleep you might miss the sun you worked so hard to get to. So you have to learn to trust yourself and your weaknesses then you get to enjoy the sun, and ever so often you turn around and see the ditch and gloominess you ran from. When you take drugs, it gives you a ladder to use to help but you still have to do it.
I want you to know this. It's ok to say ouch. It's ok to scream OUCH!!!, FUCK this hurts. DAMN IT this sucks I want OUT I can't do this, It's ok. Say it.. say it loudly scream it. It's ok. There are people that are paid to hear you. People who are paid to listen and teach you how to get through the ditch. Speak up. We want to hear you. We want to help you. We really do love you. I know it's hard and if i could walk through the ditch for you I would, but I can't. So I'll walk through my ditch, and when i get out I'll cook you something so that when your finished we can break bread together.
I need you to survive.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The First Day
8/7/14 @ 11:45 pm
8/8/14 @ 1:30 PM
Ok so I feel a LITTLE better this morning. I still nervous about class trying to find an excuse not to go but i really want to go. I think it might be expensive though - and spending money on myself has never been an easy thing for me to do. BUT if i'm Honest with myself secretly in the back of my head I'm not always happy with the way I look. I don't want to be much smaller I don't like skinny women. I like girls that are 'TICK' (Jamaican accent) I think my main if not only complaint is my belly I'm tired of seeing it. I feel like I'm 5 months pregnant. I foolishly stepped on the scale a few days ago.. it said 210. It is time.
So here's the plan:
1. I want to download Pact to my phone. Pact is an app that pays you to workout and eat healthy.
1A. To do this I will HAVE to buy a new phone. The app won't download to my phone because it's the first EVER smartphone made and things have changed over the years. (please don't laugh at me)
2. Join Pure Barre - They say it takes 10 classes to really get it so I'm committing to 3 weeks 4 days a week - It's going to cost me about $100 - To offset the price I've decided to not eat out for the rest of the month - no store brought coffee, no breakfast sandwiches, This is going to be hard folks.
3. Not Quit. I'm going to try really hard to NOT quit...
OK Lets do this!
... I really hope there are some chubby chicks in this class...
You never want to be in the class and everyone KNOWS you just started like.. awww poor little fat girl wants to get healthy "Good Job Cynthia, you looked good today" "OMG, you really did well keep at it you'll see results in no time" "Hey! I was your size just 2 weeks ago.. look at me.. if i can do it you can do"..... I don't want encouragement I don't want to be talked to.. I just want to be lost in the back of the class..
8/12/14
I still haven't gone to a class... smh
Thursday, August 7, 2014
SELF CHALLENGE!! Lets Journal Out Loud!
So I've been having a hard few - life. Yeah, that sums it up BUT these last few months since school started have been especially difficult for some reason. However, I'm pretty sure it's all for comic relief in the end.
And in the slight chance that If I ever become unsure of God's comedic geniusness I just remember the platypus. It's a duck and a beaver and it's named platypus (that my friends is comedy!)
And in the slight chance that If I ever become unsure of God's comedic geniusness I just remember the platypus. It's a duck and a beaver and it's named platypus (that my friends is comedy!)
Through it all I've been wanting to write. The problem, my topics where all over the place. I wanted to bring something of substance something that was meaningful, something interesting and all I had was me. (WOW that was deep) Me, and my life, my complicated, messy, hard to understand life. I repeatedly said to myself nobody wants to hear this craziness but one day you should write a book. It was/is so confusing. Then after a few hours or thought I decided to simply Journal Out Loud.
This is the plan, I'm going to use this blog as a journal, honest and true. I'm gong to try really hard to not worry about what anyone else will get from it or learn. I will not wonder what you might think of me if i say ouch or $hit and I will try really hard to just be me. Out loud in Black and white... or Rainbow. I promise to be honest and open. I promise to tell as much as my truth as I can and I promise to commit to do this for a year. a full year.. whats today? Ok SO Aug 8th 2015 I will have at least 52 blog entries. (Once a week folks)
This is the plan, I'm going to use this blog as a journal, honest and true. I'm gong to try really hard to not worry about what anyone else will get from it or learn. I will not wonder what you might think of me if i say ouch or $hit and I will try really hard to just be me. Out loud in Black and white... or Rainbow. I promise to be honest and open. I promise to tell as much as my truth as I can and I promise to commit to do this for a year. a full year.. whats today? Ok SO Aug 8th 2015 I will have at least 52 blog entries. (Once a week folks)
And for those Christ Lovers I know
Monday, January 6, 2014
At this Thyme
This morning was a rocky morning, I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself to just get there. I spent the morning rushing to get somewhere I have waited my whole life to be. I pulled up and they were also waiting on me. The last one to arrive. On time but later than I wanted to be. In the midst of my rocky morning, I had a few displays of loves not just from my friends and family but from God. I had one friend remind me to be me, and have fun, I had a brother hug me and tell me he loved me, any parent of a 17 yo boy will tell you what a miracle that is. My daughter looked at me as I was dropping her off at school and took a second to let me know it was going to be ok and that I could relax. I had an email saying I was loved and even as i was praying away my anxiousness in the car, the Kaneshow happened to play a recording of DMX praying before one of his shows. Now, I'm not saying his voice calmed me down by no means, but no matter who says it the name Jesus will change some things in your spirit. I've spent a lot of my day going over the mistakes I've made, but over and over again, things would happen to remind me that I am loved, I am highly favored and I am made in His image so I am good. Sometimes we miss an opportunity that we were sure was made for us, sometimes we blow the one chance we feel we had to make a difference in our lives. Sometimes things don't work out the way we want them too, need them too, expect them too. But in all times ALLTIMES we are loved, we are loved we are loved. In all times, we are exactly where we are supposed to be at that very moment in time. At all times all things are working for your good. In ALL times God is.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
But God
20 years ago today, my sisters Rasheeda and Rashawn were born. I don't remember much from that day. 7 months later Rashawn passed away. They had both spent most of their lives in the hospital, in the NICU, Incubators, we had to scrub our hands and put on masks before we were able to see them. When they finally came home, Rasheeda first then Rashawn we had to keep a pristine house, boxes of antibacterial scrub brushes were everywhere, selective friends and family were allowed in the house. I would watch them in their crib, astonished that 2 babies so different in size could actually look so much alike. Rashawn was much smaller, but she seemed stronger. She wasn't as lazy as Sheeda. She held her own bottle which was half her size, she was holding her head up first. Sometimes, Rasheeda would lean over too far and fall on Rashawn, and start crying, I noticed that it wasn't the fall that would make Sheeda cry but the fact that Rashawn would Pinch her whenever she would fall on her. I KNEW me and Rashawn would be very close, she was determined even at 4 months. Her stature would not be an obstacle but a blessing.
I don't remember much from the day they were born, but I have very clear memories of visiting them, of going to the hospital, the nurses, the food in the cafeteria, Luckily I don't remember their doctor but I know I met him. I also remember the day she died. It was my mother's birthday, Rashawn had a procedure so I had to spend the night at my friends house, it was a week day. I decided to get my mom a very nice fake rose for her birthday. I could only afford something from the dollar store, so I made up some story about it being a forever rose so she wouldn't realize it was from the dollar store. I remember, instead of spending the night i was picked up and taken home. No real explanation. I remember sitting on the couch as my mother walked in holding Rashawns blanket, she was crying from the worst pain I have ever seen. I was scared. My family was all around, helping her get to bed, making her a plate of food, a drink, a joint, anything to help numb the pain and all I did was stand there holding my brother's hand. I don't know when I started to cry. I know i was in my room alot after that. Cousins evading my space and helping my cope. I remember feeling guilty because I ate all my food and wanted seconds. Some said "Well, you must be ok you didn't lose your appetite" they didn't say it as a put down, they were genuinely happy that i was ok. But the guilt was still there. Later on the funeral was being planned and I was still just in my room and a few people came up to talk to me, hug me give me a kiss. They would also remind me to be strong form my mom and brother. They needed my help and since I was old enough (11) the best thing I could do was keep it together for my family. I tried my best. After the funeral my mom would go to the grave site everyday and stay for hours. She would sit and talk to Rashawn, watch the kids play across the street and laugh and cry. I think that was her therapy. Sometimes I would go with her, just for support. Eventually she got better, she didn't have to visit everyday, she moved on still missing her child but able to function more and more in society.
As fate would have it the other day I ended up in front of the hospital where my sister died. I have actually avoided this hospital for 20 years. If I'm in DC and I get a familiar feeling, I instinctively turn the opposite direction. However, a few Sunday's ago God would place me in front of this hospital, unprepared for what happened next. My family was with me but they were both sleep in the car. I drove up to the hospital and got out, prepping myself to do something outrageous, to break a window, or punch a wall, or nurse, to scream I HATE YOU at the building, but sane people don't that type of stuff so I got out the car, looked at the building and drove home, crying to myself. The next morning, it all became clear to me, I had never allowed myself to go crazy. My sister dying had such an impact on my life but I never noticed. Sometimes it's the silent things that have make the biggest disturbance in our lives. Over the years, I have unsuccessfully most times, attempted to keep it together. I'm strong, I look at things practically, and objectively. I let myself cry as needed but not at all excessively. I have an unhealthy connection to the best friends i had when i was 11. I haven't talked to these ladies in years, and I still call them my best friends. I know at least one got married and I was not on the invite list, and I was genuinely hurt. Again, I haven't spoken to them for years. BUT somewhere in my heart i still held on to her as if she was my forever friend. I realized that I don't go to the doctors enough, nor do I take my daughter enough. I also realized I purposely look a mess when i first meet people, in hopes to keep the shallow people away. Right after my sister died, people in school that didn't like me, were giving me hugs, and cards and saying sorry. I was so annoyed by their pity that i began to lash out. I didn't want to me treated differently I wanted to be treated the same. I wanted to blend in, so for about 15 years, all I wore was variations of black. I didn't notice it at first but my whole wardrobe was black with a pop of color. I even stop asking my family to do my hair, i didn't care to be noticed or pretty or anything. I just wanted to keep my friends and help my mom. I also realized, my depression which i began treatment for last year, after a bad adoption situation (save that for another blog) was really all about my sister. The feeling of another baby that wasn't mine being taken from me didn't start the depression as i thought it simply reactivated a sadness that had been in me for 20 years. I was reliving the inability to do anything, the staying strong for the friends and family that got attached so they could heal. I was the same 11 year old little girl that was trying to keep it together and stay sane so everyone else would be ok. the difference was, they didn't need me to be ok. Like the people I was mad at in Middle School they were just waiting for me to do the natural thing. To be sad, and mad, and grieve, instead I said "it's ok, guys God is in control." BUT GOD!
God, allowed me to go to that hospital, because he has a plan for me. He allowed me to go to the beginning of my pain to show me it's time to call a hurt a hurt. He allowed me to go there so I can allow my friends to help me. SO I can say out loud I didn't want to get out of bed today, but my best friend sent me a text that said I love you, so I did. He allowed me to see what I've been missing so I can no longer be numb. So I can feel the good and the bad. So I can say Ouch and Hallelujah. He required me to face my fear, so I can say shut up I'm not scared anymore. Being hurt is not the end result, it's simply a by product the ending is healing. Always. I know it doesn't make much sense, but after that trip I realized, my Sister's death had a purpose. To heal us. My mom at the time was in a very abusive relationship. My sisters death I think gave my the courage and strength to say no more. If she hadn't died, I may not have made it. I might have had to die for her. I don't understand God's plans but I starting to trust that He really knows what He's doing. So Today I say I love you & Happy birthday Rasheeda & I Miss you & Thank you Rashawn.
I don't remember much from the day they were born, but I have very clear memories of visiting them, of going to the hospital, the nurses, the food in the cafeteria, Luckily I don't remember their doctor but I know I met him. I also remember the day she died. It was my mother's birthday, Rashawn had a procedure so I had to spend the night at my friends house, it was a week day. I decided to get my mom a very nice fake rose for her birthday. I could only afford something from the dollar store, so I made up some story about it being a forever rose so she wouldn't realize it was from the dollar store. I remember, instead of spending the night i was picked up and taken home. No real explanation. I remember sitting on the couch as my mother walked in holding Rashawns blanket, she was crying from the worst pain I have ever seen. I was scared. My family was all around, helping her get to bed, making her a plate of food, a drink, a joint, anything to help numb the pain and all I did was stand there holding my brother's hand. I don't know when I started to cry. I know i was in my room alot after that. Cousins evading my space and helping my cope. I remember feeling guilty because I ate all my food and wanted seconds. Some said "Well, you must be ok you didn't lose your appetite" they didn't say it as a put down, they were genuinely happy that i was ok. But the guilt was still there. Later on the funeral was being planned and I was still just in my room and a few people came up to talk to me, hug me give me a kiss. They would also remind me to be strong form my mom and brother. They needed my help and since I was old enough (11) the best thing I could do was keep it together for my family. I tried my best. After the funeral my mom would go to the grave site everyday and stay for hours. She would sit and talk to Rashawn, watch the kids play across the street and laugh and cry. I think that was her therapy. Sometimes I would go with her, just for support. Eventually she got better, she didn't have to visit everyday, she moved on still missing her child but able to function more and more in society.
As fate would have it the other day I ended up in front of the hospital where my sister died. I have actually avoided this hospital for 20 years. If I'm in DC and I get a familiar feeling, I instinctively turn the opposite direction. However, a few Sunday's ago God would place me in front of this hospital, unprepared for what happened next. My family was with me but they were both sleep in the car. I drove up to the hospital and got out, prepping myself to do something outrageous, to break a window, or punch a wall, or nurse, to scream I HATE YOU at the building, but sane people don't that type of stuff so I got out the car, looked at the building and drove home, crying to myself. The next morning, it all became clear to me, I had never allowed myself to go crazy. My sister dying had such an impact on my life but I never noticed. Sometimes it's the silent things that have make the biggest disturbance in our lives. Over the years, I have unsuccessfully most times, attempted to keep it together. I'm strong, I look at things practically, and objectively. I let myself cry as needed but not at all excessively. I have an unhealthy connection to the best friends i had when i was 11. I haven't talked to these ladies in years, and I still call them my best friends. I know at least one got married and I was not on the invite list, and I was genuinely hurt. Again, I haven't spoken to them for years. BUT somewhere in my heart i still held on to her as if she was my forever friend. I realized that I don't go to the doctors enough, nor do I take my daughter enough. I also realized I purposely look a mess when i first meet people, in hopes to keep the shallow people away. Right after my sister died, people in school that didn't like me, were giving me hugs, and cards and saying sorry. I was so annoyed by their pity that i began to lash out. I didn't want to me treated differently I wanted to be treated the same. I wanted to blend in, so for about 15 years, all I wore was variations of black. I didn't notice it at first but my whole wardrobe was black with a pop of color. I even stop asking my family to do my hair, i didn't care to be noticed or pretty or anything. I just wanted to keep my friends and help my mom. I also realized, my depression which i began treatment for last year, after a bad adoption situation (save that for another blog) was really all about my sister. The feeling of another baby that wasn't mine being taken from me didn't start the depression as i thought it simply reactivated a sadness that had been in me for 20 years. I was reliving the inability to do anything, the staying strong for the friends and family that got attached so they could heal. I was the same 11 year old little girl that was trying to keep it together and stay sane so everyone else would be ok. the difference was, they didn't need me to be ok. Like the people I was mad at in Middle School they were just waiting for me to do the natural thing. To be sad, and mad, and grieve, instead I said "it's ok, guys God is in control." BUT GOD!
God, allowed me to go to that hospital, because he has a plan for me. He allowed me to go to the beginning of my pain to show me it's time to call a hurt a hurt. He allowed me to go there so I can allow my friends to help me. SO I can say out loud I didn't want to get out of bed today, but my best friend sent me a text that said I love you, so I did. He allowed me to see what I've been missing so I can no longer be numb. So I can feel the good and the bad. So I can say Ouch and Hallelujah. He required me to face my fear, so I can say shut up I'm not scared anymore. Being hurt is not the end result, it's simply a by product the ending is healing. Always. I know it doesn't make much sense, but after that trip I realized, my Sister's death had a purpose. To heal us. My mom at the time was in a very abusive relationship. My sisters death I think gave my the courage and strength to say no more. If she hadn't died, I may not have made it. I might have had to die for her. I don't understand God's plans but I starting to trust that He really knows what He's doing. So Today I say I love you & Happy birthday Rasheeda & I Miss you & Thank you Rashawn.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Last Night I had a Dream
Last night I had a dream that I was standing around with some church family, we might have been visiting a hospital or something similar. As we were standing, My Rev. happened to look at me and noticed my sullen state, and told Ms. Candace (one of my favorite members) "Figure out whats going on and let me know what you need" Ms. Candace then came over to me and gave me one of those side hugs and asked very cordially "How's your mother doing?" I looked at her and started to cry, as I searched for the words to answer her question, Then she said, "Ok, then Where is Granny Vines?" I then began to try to explain that she wasn't coming but I was crying too hard. I continued to cry harder and harder unto the point I woke myself up. I was so confused at first I just kept crying and as the haze of sleepiness wore off I realized that my dream had uncovered some issues that I was unwillingly having to deal with.
Yesterday, Elder Vikki Johnson wrote on her Facebook Page "I had a dream last night that I believe is for some of you. It seems like people & things are rapidly "disconnecting", shifting around, or being removed from your life. Surrender to it. Stop trying to "hold on" as God is making room in your life for what's coming. The HIGHER you go, the lighter & more flexible you need to be to maneuver in your life's purpose!" This was for me very coincidental because the day prior I had a friend tell me she was feeling disconnected from me. She gave her reasons which I will save for another post and though I disagree with her I respect them and after some time to think I decided to just be me, and let God control the rest. So when I saw the above message I KNEW it was God telling me to let go and move along.
So I started my Sunday in high hopes. I knew I would miss church because of my daughters basketball game but I set a side a few moments of prayer made some breakfast and proceeded with my day. We had a great basketball game, though my daughter wasn't feel well. She spent most of the game sleep in my lap. We decided after to game to go visit my grandmother. My daughter wanted to hang out, so it took her a few hours to realize that she was sick and needed to lay down, she slept most of the day but the rest of us had a great time. It was a full of playing cards and laughter, we ate hot dogs and beans and talked. I had a few questions I wanted to ask her but I couldn't find the nerve so I just listened and tried to sneak the questions in the conversation, to no avail. As we were beginning to leave My grandma remembered that she recently found a letter my father wrote a few months after my birth admitting his paternity. I was overcome with gratitude that a young man back in 1982 would adopt me at 3 months old as his own. In my moment of clarity I asked my first question, "Grandma, if Toni and I were to get married would you come?" She replied quickly and in certainty "No, I will not" I reminded her that she had said the same about my cousins wedding, and we both went to that wedding, but she said again "No, I'm telling you now, I'm not going to be there, I wont come to your wedding"
Initially, I felt sad. Sad that I couldn't be what she wanted me to be. Sad that I disappointed her. I was sad because I had already decided that part of my wedding plans would be to honor her somehow or at least thank her publicly. I was sad because as my therapist so awesomely explained her approval means a lot to me and the fact that she clearly does not approve of my relationship really hurt my feelings. We talked some more about less touchy subjects and finally we left. Toni and I talked briefly about grandma's decision in the car ride home, but I decided secretly I wasn't going to worry about it. I would just do whatever God told me to do. Sad or not.
When we got home, I prepared my daughter for bed and she started crying cause she just didn't feel good. She didn't enjoy feeling so crappy and she wanted her relief sooner rather than later. I looked down at the mini me in pain in front of me and simply said "I know it sucks". I didn't realize it then but I had just spoken to myself. So later that night when my sobs of disappointment woke me from my deep sleep I reminded myself that I made a decision to let it go! Why then are you still crying? The problem was I didn't know how to fully let go. I thought I had, but when you wake up in the middle of the night crying it may be an indication that you need to deal with something. As the sun rose and the sobs started to ease I began to realize what I missed in my letting go was allowing myself to grieve. I had not given in to the grief of unfulfilled expectations. I had let go but didn't allow myself to cry over the lost.
So today I thank God that last night I had a dream. A dream that allowed me to voice those things that I wanted and let go of the things I can't change. I thank God for the dreams. The dream of me and my future wife in a paid for house sending our children to school. The dream of my brother making the dean's list and graduating magna cum laude. Dreams of debt free living. I didn't know I needed to dream but I'm very grateful to God that last night I finally did.
Yesterday, Elder Vikki Johnson wrote on her Facebook Page "I had a dream last night that I believe is for some of you. It seems like people & things are rapidly "disconnecting", shifting around, or being removed from your life. Surrender to it. Stop trying to "hold on" as God is making room in your life for what's coming. The HIGHER you go, the lighter & more flexible you need to be to maneuver in your life's purpose!" This was for me very coincidental because the day prior I had a friend tell me she was feeling disconnected from me. She gave her reasons which I will save for another post and though I disagree with her I respect them and after some time to think I decided to just be me, and let God control the rest. So when I saw the above message I KNEW it was God telling me to let go and move along.
So I started my Sunday in high hopes. I knew I would miss church because of my daughters basketball game but I set a side a few moments of prayer made some breakfast and proceeded with my day. We had a great basketball game, though my daughter wasn't feel well. She spent most of the game sleep in my lap. We decided after to game to go visit my grandmother. My daughter wanted to hang out, so it took her a few hours to realize that she was sick and needed to lay down, she slept most of the day but the rest of us had a great time. It was a full of playing cards and laughter, we ate hot dogs and beans and talked. I had a few questions I wanted to ask her but I couldn't find the nerve so I just listened and tried to sneak the questions in the conversation, to no avail. As we were beginning to leave My grandma remembered that she recently found a letter my father wrote a few months after my birth admitting his paternity. I was overcome with gratitude that a young man back in 1982 would adopt me at 3 months old as his own. In my moment of clarity I asked my first question, "Grandma, if Toni and I were to get married would you come?" She replied quickly and in certainty "No, I will not" I reminded her that she had said the same about my cousins wedding, and we both went to that wedding, but she said again "No, I'm telling you now, I'm not going to be there, I wont come to your wedding"
Initially, I felt sad. Sad that I couldn't be what she wanted me to be. Sad that I disappointed her. I was sad because I had already decided that part of my wedding plans would be to honor her somehow or at least thank her publicly. I was sad because as my therapist so awesomely explained her approval means a lot to me and the fact that she clearly does not approve of my relationship really hurt my feelings. We talked some more about less touchy subjects and finally we left. Toni and I talked briefly about grandma's decision in the car ride home, but I decided secretly I wasn't going to worry about it. I would just do whatever God told me to do. Sad or not.
When we got home, I prepared my daughter for bed and she started crying cause she just didn't feel good. She didn't enjoy feeling so crappy and she wanted her relief sooner rather than later. I looked down at the mini me in pain in front of me and simply said "I know it sucks". I didn't realize it then but I had just spoken to myself. So later that night when my sobs of disappointment woke me from my deep sleep I reminded myself that I made a decision to let it go! Why then are you still crying? The problem was I didn't know how to fully let go. I thought I had, but when you wake up in the middle of the night crying it may be an indication that you need to deal with something. As the sun rose and the sobs started to ease I began to realize what I missed in my letting go was allowing myself to grieve. I had not given in to the grief of unfulfilled expectations. I had let go but didn't allow myself to cry over the lost.
So today I thank God that last night I had a dream. A dream that allowed me to voice those things that I wanted and let go of the things I can't change. I thank God for the dreams. The dream of me and my future wife in a paid for house sending our children to school. The dream of my brother making the dean's list and graduating magna cum laude. Dreams of debt free living. I didn't know I needed to dream but I'm very grateful to God that last night I finally did.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Crap Happens - Have a nice day
I have been putting this post off for at least 2 weeks. I've had a hard time finding a way to get out all my thoughts and feelings on the subject without this being a 12 page dissertation on unexpected events and crappy lives. Out of anger at recent events in my life I was unable to verbalize all I wanted to say in a way that was interesting and uplifting. Then I spent a few days with one of my brothers, and this morning it all made a little more sense so I'm going to try again.
Growing up my life was somewhat normal, or at least I thought. I was unaware of how abnormal my life was. I might be the only person that could watch an after school special or sit through D.A.R.E. presentations and think, "Wait, what? That's not normal?" I think I am the reason we had those assemblies, the teachers and staffs wanted to make ME aware of how abnormal my life really was. You realize they don't have them anymore? Because I'm fully aware of what crazy is now! It's ok, your welcome.
My first brother came around when I was 9, we were solo for a few years until my mother had twin girls. One of the twins died at 7 months. My mother took self medicated to deal with the grief for a few years then my baby brother was born soon there after she had the last baby girl. 5 kids 3 girls 2 boys. (Side note: A few years ago I found out I had a sister by my birth father she's a few years younger than me. So I actually have 3 sisters. Though I only grew up with 2)
My mom and I were a good team, she worked, I cooked. I took care of the kids, she paid the bills. Not very complicated always but hard nonetheless. We went through a lot, and still do! We haven't spent a Christmas or any holiday together in at least 3 or 4 years. Some years ago, the baby girl was diagnosed with Lymphoma. I'm happy to say she proceeded to kick cancers ass & now she's a cancer survivor at 15! We have a web of baby daddy drama so hilarious that Maury himself would need a power point presentation and diagrams to fully understand. Growing up 90% of the stuff in our house was either broken or modified somehow, when I say modified think duct tape and paperclips. I remember when I went to the store to buy furniture and appliances for my first apartment, thinking, Wow - I never had a new Microwave, coffer maker or even a working can opener. Can you imagine my 14 year old self opening 4 cans of chef boy r dee with a knife? Life was hard, but comical!
The Bible says a merry heart is good like medicine, and I truly believe laughter kept us out of therapy all those years. At night we would put on plays & musical productions for my mother. One of our favorite scenes was one from Lion King. Do you remember close to the end when Timon and Pumba tries to sneak Simba back to Pride rock? They dress in drag and do the hula? Yep, we remade that better than any Broadway play! I would also do small private scenes for my mother before bed, such as but not limited to: standing in line, being a tree, Old lady walking, and mowing the lawn - I think being a tree was her favorite!
Somehow in the midst of the crazy, (trust me there was LOT of crazy, domestic violence, drug abuse, molestation, you name it we dealt with it) we all have come out somewhat "normal" we have clear visions of who we are, we love and respect our parents (known and unknown) we tend to give more than usual to the unfortunate, we love each other and fight for each other, we cry together and laugh a LOT. After talking to my brother this weekend I realized we all understand and accept that bad things happen, so you might as well have a good day. Not only is it a waste of time crying of spilled milk, it's a LOT more fun to laugh at the way it fell down and the person who dropped it's face when it happened!
These past weeks have been hard, not just for me but it seems like for a lot of people around me too. Deaths, money woes, sicknesses and lots of questions to God about situations. All I can offer is prayer and the assurance of these Three things, 1. $hit happens, it has to. It's not personal, it's just crap. It's going to happen again. You will be ok. 2. There is not only a reason, but a GOOD reason for it! When my sister passed away my mother listened to a Zhane song frequently that says everything happens for a reason. The Bible goes a step further, Rom 8:28 says: And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.& 3. Understanding the reasons are not as important as you may think. God is Sovereign, He does whatsoever He wants when and how he wants.The Word says in Ecc 11:5 As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.
I can't begin to tell you why the crap happens, I can't explain 9/11 or Katrina, I can't explain why babies die on mothers birthday's or why fighting the men that beat my mother was a pass time of mine for a few years in my life. I can't tell you why nor do I understand, what the hell cancer or asthma or heart disease are even needed for nor why they are not yet cured. I don't know why old people or kids or nice people die. I don't know. What I do know is there is a GOOD reason. I also know, it's typically a waste of time to try to figure out said reason & it's much easier to just trust there is a good reason.
Nobody said it would be easy (and if they did they lied) but I promise you there is a good reason and great outcome from it. Whatever it is. I promise you. So, clean up the milk, laugh at the situation and have a great day/week/month/year/life. Crap happens & God loves you, now have a nice day.
Growing up my life was somewhat normal, or at least I thought. I was unaware of how abnormal my life was. I might be the only person that could watch an after school special or sit through D.A.R.E. presentations and think, "Wait, what? That's not normal?" I think I am the reason we had those assemblies, the teachers and staffs wanted to make ME aware of how abnormal my life really was. You realize they don't have them anymore? Because I'm fully aware of what crazy is now! It's ok, your welcome.
My first brother came around when I was 9, we were solo for a few years until my mother had twin girls. One of the twins died at 7 months. My mother took self medicated to deal with the grief for a few years then my baby brother was born soon there after she had the last baby girl. 5 kids 3 girls 2 boys. (Side note: A few years ago I found out I had a sister by my birth father she's a few years younger than me. So I actually have 3 sisters. Though I only grew up with 2)
My mom and I were a good team, she worked, I cooked. I took care of the kids, she paid the bills. Not very complicated always but hard nonetheless. We went through a lot, and still do! We haven't spent a Christmas or any holiday together in at least 3 or 4 years. Some years ago, the baby girl was diagnosed with Lymphoma. I'm happy to say she proceeded to kick cancers ass & now she's a cancer survivor at 15! We have a web of baby daddy drama so hilarious that Maury himself would need a power point presentation and diagrams to fully understand. Growing up 90% of the stuff in our house was either broken or modified somehow, when I say modified think duct tape and paperclips. I remember when I went to the store to buy furniture and appliances for my first apartment, thinking, Wow - I never had a new Microwave, coffer maker or even a working can opener. Can you imagine my 14 year old self opening 4 cans of chef boy r dee with a knife? Life was hard, but comical!
The Bible says a merry heart is good like medicine, and I truly believe laughter kept us out of therapy all those years. At night we would put on plays & musical productions for my mother. One of our favorite scenes was one from Lion King. Do you remember close to the end when Timon and Pumba tries to sneak Simba back to Pride rock? They dress in drag and do the hula? Yep, we remade that better than any Broadway play! I would also do small private scenes for my mother before bed, such as but not limited to: standing in line, being a tree, Old lady walking, and mowing the lawn - I think being a tree was her favorite!
Somehow in the midst of the crazy, (trust me there was LOT of crazy, domestic violence, drug abuse, molestation, you name it we dealt with it) we all have come out somewhat "normal" we have clear visions of who we are, we love and respect our parents (known and unknown) we tend to give more than usual to the unfortunate, we love each other and fight for each other, we cry together and laugh a LOT. After talking to my brother this weekend I realized we all understand and accept that bad things happen, so you might as well have a good day. Not only is it a waste of time crying of spilled milk, it's a LOT more fun to laugh at the way it fell down and the person who dropped it's face when it happened!
These past weeks have been hard, not just for me but it seems like for a lot of people around me too. Deaths, money woes, sicknesses and lots of questions to God about situations. All I can offer is prayer and the assurance of these Three things, 1. $hit happens, it has to. It's not personal, it's just crap. It's going to happen again. You will be ok. 2. There is not only a reason, but a GOOD reason for it! When my sister passed away my mother listened to a Zhane song frequently that says everything happens for a reason. The Bible goes a step further, Rom 8:28 says: And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.& 3. Understanding the reasons are not as important as you may think. God is Sovereign, He does whatsoever He wants when and how he wants.The Word says in Ecc 11:5 As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.
I can't begin to tell you why the crap happens, I can't explain 9/11 or Katrina, I can't explain why babies die on mothers birthday's or why fighting the men that beat my mother was a pass time of mine for a few years in my life. I can't tell you why nor do I understand, what the hell cancer or asthma or heart disease are even needed for nor why they are not yet cured. I don't know why old people or kids or nice people die. I don't know. What I do know is there is a GOOD reason. I also know, it's typically a waste of time to try to figure out said reason & it's much easier to just trust there is a good reason.
Nobody said it would be easy (and if they did they lied) but I promise you there is a good reason and great outcome from it. Whatever it is. I promise you. So, clean up the milk, laugh at the situation and have a great day/week/month/year/life. Crap happens & God loves you, now have a nice day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)