Everything is Not as It's Sold

I am tired of being told who I am by people who "know" me from rumors and observing the tiniest glimpses of my life. I am not the person they say I am. I am the woman who has grown immeasurably more than anyone, including myself, thought I could this year; the one who put to death the things that deserved death and allowed herself to be rescued by the only One who can save the irredeemable. I am not who I was. I will never be who they say I am, nor will I ever go back to who I hated. I have bigger things in store for my life. Their words do not control me anymore.

And It's Not Hard to Fall

I have about a thousand things to say and no photo that will represent them so that I can shut up and stop trying to voice what is actually no more than a picture in my head. I want things. Big things. I want passionate things and me being passionate about them. I want to say the things on my mind, knowing full well that I mean them, and not be afraid of people forgetting to take me seriously (or worse, remembering). I want those things that are too big and scary to say out loud, but that I ache for in ways I don't understand. I want to look at myself and love what I see, or at least be able to tell myself what I would rather see instead of this insane lack of knowing why I don't want what I have or any of the options for change. I want to always know the difference between something worth fighting, lying, flying, pushing, dying for and something that's not even worth the breath it takes to mildly disagree. I want to put my talential-ADD aside on behalf of just one thing and get brilliantly good at it, not because it naturally comes to me but because I worked my butt off. Just one thing. I want to come across meaning in the moment, but not spend so much time trying to find it that I miss out on what God's trying to say on a grander scale. I want to know myself in Him before I try to learn anything else about Him; I am so sick of the things I know and the things I debate that lead me no closer to Him or the person I need to be. I want to love with a passion and desire that scares me until death.

Drifting

That horrible letdown of defenses after a ridiculously long period of stress that leads to sickness.

I hate it. Being surrounded by the pressure of stress so tightly that, when it finally stops constricting, it still leaves me without breath.

I just watched a show where a boa constrictor was squeezing a guy to death, but they couldn't remove the snake because it had crushed his bones and if they did he would bleed out. The same thing that was killing him was also keeping him alive.

Ironic. One of the main stresses being removed meant letting go of the strict schedule that had kept me breathing. Now I have to reconstruct from the ground up all over again. I need to remind myself why I wake up in the morning instead of robotically going through the motions just to make it through the day.

There must be purpose beyond this.

Beyond Where We Should Have Gone

Don't. Waste. Your. Life.

What does that even look like.

I. I am without the means to continue in the same way. If I were to stay here, stay the same...I would die. I have been suffocating for months.

For one, small, barely conceivable moment, I felt the tiniest breath of freedom. The weight was gone, the air was clean. It was but a moment. This. This is a cheesy song that everyone else laughs at but breaks my heart. The lyrics have become a haunting part of me.

Pray, pray, pray, seek, beg, pray, beg. Please please please please please fight for me I cannot fight for myself it never worked it won't work now just please please please fight fight for me on my behalf nothing I do will do anything I need You to fight please please fight.

Nothing.

...

.

I'm hanging on another day just to see what You will throw my way.

That anthem is slowly dying.

Sunshine Sure Looks Good on You

One of my biggest pet peeves is people who complain all the time. There is a big difference between honestly telling someone how you're doing and going to ridiculous measures to make sure they know every little thing that is wrong. Maybe I'm still majorly lacking the gifts of mercy and compassion but, even here in my better state, I run out of patience with that kind of thing easily.

With that being said, it's rare that people know when things are genuinely wrong with me. I complain about stupid things just because they don't matter and keep the real to myself. I don't know if this is a good thing, it's just my thing. The last few weeks have been really hard to do that with, however. Tonight was especially bad because I had a KILLER migraine, which wasn't easy to hide. I suppose I could have spent the night in my room instead of curling up in the Aframe, but there is nothing worse than feeling terrible while being alone and unable to sleep.

I'm beginning to think it may be to my own detriment that I do not share what I'm going through all the time. But I don't know. I'm torn...thus this ridiculous blog that just goes back and forth. So here's the thing...my back is killing me. Literally. Maybe 5% of people know this, and even then...yeah. It takes all my energy, sucks me dry, and leaves me emotionally wrecked for everyone else to deal with. It does not appear to be getting better. I am stuck in the body of a 70-year-old, with most of the limitations that come with that (except I still have all my teeth, thank goodness). Add every other stress, and suddenly I'm back to wondering how I manage to get up each morning.

But I can't go back there! That was dark and hopeless and meant sleeping 16 hours a day.

This is the closest I may ever come to complaining about it. I hate that I even said this, but if I cannot be honest here then I am at a loss for where would be alright. This feels unbeatable.