Because journalist seems to simple, to easy and then again all to complex at the same time.
Starting a blog, where I can write and look like I am working, look like I am productive...yes genious and the way to go. I intend to write about matters of the heart. Things that make me crazy and things that dont. Since I am not sure how to seperate those two yet, and and working on discovering who I really am, most days I think I will just feel like Doogie Houses typing away on my old monocrome screen with teh blinking light. Something substantial to say....well maybe. Noting to say, most likely.
Where I am evening going with this? Not quite sure, but Its just me whom is along for the ride, so does it really matter anyway? Just a place to get it out, say what I need to say. Useless, probably. Free and open, yes. Unbiased, and unjudged of course.
Charlies fire sireen screams at me in the background, enough to make me think I am going crazy, but there is a part of me that doesnt even hear it and another part of me that thinks I should, but all I can hear is the clicking of the keyboard. So, am I making to much out of this, out of the maddness that swirls around in my head, If I dive into who I am instead of trying to keep it in that box, will I become consumed again, longing to be free? I have done a good job keeping it locked up.....pushing i away, blaming someone else. Deciding that where I use to live as a fantasy. That I could control all of it. Yes, I did feel better for some time. The Lord, he touched me in ways that only I could feel. I felt releif and freedom, but that soon changed. Then there as teh concusion. The time where I had to sit inside my own head, and it was painful, so so painful. I thought I was on the path of finding out who I am, who I wanted to be and who I had become over the years. I have always clung to my faith so tightly, and to find out that maybe I do feel better on medicaiton, that these thoughts and racking ideas, the sleepless nights, the irratibility, the crying and then the cutting. Not now, but then....maybe there was a better way. To realize that I could feel a little better even if it meant giving up on my dream to have another child, fine. I would do that. I would settle for what I needed, and how I needed to be me.
For some time I was me. I felt what I felt. I read what I needed to. I tried to survive with this mind I have been delt....but there was always that nagging thought, the one that said, there is something wrong with you. something that needs FIXED. Then the baby. All I waned was a child...as son to be exact. How could I do that. I tried only to be totally ready to kill myself or soemonee, so after the micarriage back on the meds I went.
Then there was that night that God touched me. Healed up my mind and womb. Shortly after I had the concussion, and I realized it was time. That I needed a baby. So, we all know how that worked out. Hes the best thing that ever happened to me, and the hardest.
Since I had him I feel back to ...myself....as crappy as that sounds. So, did God decided to unheal me? Is that possible? How does all this work anyway? Where is God in all this. I know I have blamed him a time or two for, well everything. I have let others words sink deep into my spirit. To deep. The y changed me. They hurt me, that hurt me.
Now, I am striving to fingure out who I am and where God is in all this. What are his rules, how do they pertain to me, and how do I keep him happy. How do I do what he intends for me to do. Do I do enough, what is enough. Can I relax can I breath, do I need to do more. How am I made? Do I have labels? I think that this is something people usually go through when they are 16. Maybe sooner, but there was alwyas this person that I bleeived I was because someone wanted me to be that person. Thats right......that box.....the one my Dad drew and not by any fault of his own probably. We all want whats best for our kids. Do we mean to put them in a box, probably and propbably not. Ive had so many beleifs thrown into my box its smothered me. Im not sure WHO God REALY is to me. To me, that sounds dumb? Isnt he the same to everyone? Maybe....??? Or is he? Everyone in the World does not have a Bible book written about them, so I know that God chooses people and he shows up diffrently in their lives. He talkes to some and some he instructs to do things crazy, some he choose easy stuff. They say be thrilled if God chooses soemthing hard for you. Well, what is hard anyway. Maybe for me hard is getting out of bed.....
Then theres this whole matter of healing.
Whats that all about
and Faith.
Ive been told I have none, or not enough or to little.
Maybe? But who is to judege that?
Why the yard stick....what the God yard stick that other Christians carry around. Sure, there are set measurements I guess. Standards, rules if you want to call them that, but who gets to carry the stick? Who gets to make me feel bad if I dont measure up?
Is that something God and I can work out together?
Then there is my family. Sigh......feel the load settle onto my shoulders. There is Linzey, see look it just lightned! Its gone now. She gets me. She loves me....even when I should not be loved. Even when I am a bad friend........even when I climb inside my self. Shes honest, and she helps me. She doesnt judge me, and if she does its by the national standard yard sticks, not the ones that certian people carry around ready to wack you with. So what if we suck at Awana.....okay that was an outburst. Anyway.....Its probably my fault anyway, becauase if I would not let it bother me I would feel better. Than why does it bother me? Because I love these people with the big sticks. Because I need them in my life, I would feel guilty if they were not. Here we go the big GUILTY. I could write for days on that, and I will. For now this is just the beginning again, the summary of what I need to work on. Well, there is that word...NEED. I mean...what I want to work on. The journey through my heart.
I just smiled, really big. I thought of Danny. Hes been beside me through it all. The ugly and the good, alhtough I feel like theres not so much good. I mean we are good, but I am a mess most times and I feel bad for him. Bad that he loves me. I wish I could be better for him, maybe more stable, but he seems to love me just the way I am. I love him to. It has been a journey. Sometimes I wonder if I keep changing if he will keep loving me, but I will never stop loving him, so I hope that means we are safe. Safe, what is that all about anyway.....
More thoughts. More questions and now answers, but I am sure they are there, I just need to stop being afraid to uncover them. The answers to allllll these questions, tehy are there. Ive just been afraid to face them, afraid to be honest but its time. Time I was and I realized just what I need from me and just what my kids need from me, so they dont have to go through this to.
