What did divorce do to me?
Even though right now is where I would try my hardest not to insert some cliche line about hindsight and how one small decision can change your life, but in reality that's what divorce did to me. One day, in the upstairs bathroom one left behind cellphone on a bathtub side, my life changed.
It's been almost two years since separating and almost one year exactly that I've been half of a divorced party. Through my relationship with God, I've found ways to not only forgive him but forgive myself as well. It's a constant battle of letting go of guilt and shame and feelings of failure. During the process, little did I know that I would have so much alone time to reflect on what a divorce would really mean in my life.
All the wheels in my life had/have been spinning at once. Both my father and brother were sentenced to "hard" prison time, my issues with my father have been in the front of my mind every day, I had to let go of my ex and see him move on and love someone else, and I had to come to peace with finding new ways to address my once husband. It seems like such a small thing that we never think about. When addressing him to other people I felt this sense of failure referring to him as my ex-husband but calling him the father of my children made me feel like I was never good enough to marry him. When the water boils away, the residue of the issue is internal. I suppose I never felt good enough to be anyone's wife, which is one of the many reasons why I stayed married for so long.
Don't get me wrong. There were plenty of good moments in our marriage, we have two beautiful children and I learned a lot about myself and at the end, learned a lot about the kind of Godly wife I should have been. (Then maybe I could have single-handedly saved my marriage. See what I did there? I still think I could have done it). But when I'm alone, sitting on my couch alone and waiting for my kids to return to me; how am I supposed to feel?
Are we, as divorced and single mothers allowed to feel triumphant for releasing ourselves from a relationship that was volatile to us? Are we allowed to feel successful for raising our children? Are we allowed to fall in love again? Are we allowed to be happy? Are we allowed to move on with our lives without feeling guilt, like it's too soon?
I've come to the conclusion that there's really no appropriate and definite answer to any of these question. (Sorry if you felt like I was the holy grail of divorce answers for a second). The truth is, I'm still learning all this and as frustrating as it may sound, it's a day by day person-by-person decision. We all deal with pain differently and most differently from our ex's. What we may feel is appropriate or timely may be different than what they feel. The truth here, is that those right or wrong decisions can no longer be entertained by us (a couple) anymore. We're divorced.
Recently my mom texted me and instead of typing "divorce" she wrote "D." I know she was just trying to be sensitive, but I told her that it was okay to say it. I've learned not to treat people and things like Voldemort (that's the evil guy in Harry Potter whose name you're not allowed to say) because unlike Harry Potter, the less I called people and things by their names the less I faced them and the more power they gained.
I know my honesty tends to turn some people off of me and that's okay. All of this is just my truth, my rants, my small pieces of honesty for myself and hopefully somebody reads it and feels like for the few minutes that they are in my blog world that they're not alone.
So, "What to feel when you're being told how to feel about your divorce?"
Any way you want to.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Lost My Two-Step
Pslam 31: 1-2 -- "... I put my trust in you...deliver me speedily..."
Okay. For a moment, a long moment, I lost my rhythm, my two-step, my juice. I could feel myself losing it because I didn't quite feel like myself anymore. I was struggling continually to do my day-to-day functions. I was experiencing anxiety, depression, and loneliness (sometimes all at once).I prided myself on beating my own drum, creating my own lane (in life) and now, here I was, lost on a gravel road that was scattered carelessly in front of me. I was on a road that was thrown together by multiple people made from "should be's" and "stay here's" and "be this." I was stuck and scared and anxious and ready to quit.
No one knew that part though. I could admit to the depression and cocktail of emotions, but there was no way I was going to publicize the deeper issue: I had dreams of death and they were calming.
When I was younger I had no problem shouting suicidal thoughts from the mountaintops, I wanted the attention. Now, it's not the same. (Which is why my Facebook is currently deactivated and I write this under the safe thought that no one ever reads my blog). I want to hide. I want to be invisible. I wanted to shed the responsibilities and hardships and simply start over, but I knew I couldn't. My children wouldn't be able to start over and I knew God had given them to me to save me.
I felt ashamed. How could I praise Him, yet allow myself to feel so much pain and betrayal. Daily I was rejected and I had allowed that rejection to consume my life. It kind of still folds over me like a familiar blanket on a cold rainy day.
However:
Pslam 31: 7-18 -- "You have known my soul in adversities... my strength fails because of my iniquity... as for me, I trust in You... my times are in Your hand... let the lying lips be put to silence..."
The shame I felt eventually turned into self inflicted pain and I couldn't hold it anymore. Church had become a place of anxiety and as I watched my heart manifest into a physical representation, walk in suited and manipulative, I fell. I ran. I prayed. I buckled and fell execution style into deepest surrender. I couldn't hold myself anymore and openly admitted that I no longer was strong enough. I could NOT do it. The only thing left to do was pray.
This was two weeks ago.
I haven't stopped praying since. I am attacked daily. I am hurt daily. But I am saved and I am healed. This is the process. I don't like it, it's not comfortable, but it shouldn't be. If I were comfortable, then it wouldn't be a breakthrough. If this is what I have to endure to live a life full of love and free from confusion and anxiety, then I shall endure.
John 5:12 -- "He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life..Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us."
He shall be my drummer and I shall walk to His beat.
Okay. For a moment, a long moment, I lost my rhythm, my two-step, my juice. I could feel myself losing it because I didn't quite feel like myself anymore. I was struggling continually to do my day-to-day functions. I was experiencing anxiety, depression, and loneliness (sometimes all at once).I prided myself on beating my own drum, creating my own lane (in life) and now, here I was, lost on a gravel road that was scattered carelessly in front of me. I was on a road that was thrown together by multiple people made from "should be's" and "stay here's" and "be this." I was stuck and scared and anxious and ready to quit.
No one knew that part though. I could admit to the depression and cocktail of emotions, but there was no way I was going to publicize the deeper issue: I had dreams of death and they were calming.
When I was younger I had no problem shouting suicidal thoughts from the mountaintops, I wanted the attention. Now, it's not the same. (Which is why my Facebook is currently deactivated and I write this under the safe thought that no one ever reads my blog). I want to hide. I want to be invisible. I wanted to shed the responsibilities and hardships and simply start over, but I knew I couldn't. My children wouldn't be able to start over and I knew God had given them to me to save me.
I felt ashamed. How could I praise Him, yet allow myself to feel so much pain and betrayal. Daily I was rejected and I had allowed that rejection to consume my life. It kind of still folds over me like a familiar blanket on a cold rainy day.
However:
Pslam 31: 7-18 -- "You have known my soul in adversities... my strength fails because of my iniquity... as for me, I trust in You... my times are in Your hand... let the lying lips be put to silence..."
The shame I felt eventually turned into self inflicted pain and I couldn't hold it anymore. Church had become a place of anxiety and as I watched my heart manifest into a physical representation, walk in suited and manipulative, I fell. I ran. I prayed. I buckled and fell execution style into deepest surrender. I couldn't hold myself anymore and openly admitted that I no longer was strong enough. I could NOT do it. The only thing left to do was pray.
This was two weeks ago.
I haven't stopped praying since. I am attacked daily. I am hurt daily. But I am saved and I am healed. This is the process. I don't like it, it's not comfortable, but it shouldn't be. If I were comfortable, then it wouldn't be a breakthrough. If this is what I have to endure to live a life full of love and free from confusion and anxiety, then I shall endure.
John 5:12 -- "He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life..Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us."
He shall be my drummer and I shall walk to His beat.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Because He Broke Me
You never know your strength until you are sitting across
from your challenge, your adversity, your assumption for punishment and watching
her eat a granola bar and call your children baby, watching her reach out and
wrap her arms around your children. That’s when your strength is tested. That’s
when you know whose “side” God is on. For the past few months I’ve found myself
wondering that very thing as I stood in church and cried tears of defeat,
frustration, agony, and heartache. I mean. What the heck was God doing? What
was He thinking having me stand in His house and witness this almost twice a
week? I would leave church feeling distracted, weak, and confused. I still get
that feeling a couple of times, but today as I type this literally sitting in a
foyer sunken into a brown leather couch and glancing across my computer screen
at a woman who thinks she has defeated me, I am calmed, peaceful and slightly
cocky because I know MY God. I know who He is and what He will do for me.
There is something especially magnificent about the way God seems to hold my hand through moments when I try to fight Him off. When times like this happen, my flesh responds first. I want to throw my arms in the air, blaming my carelessness on the lack of His presence in my moment of weakness, hitting anyone in my way and simply watching the aftermath ensue. I had the right, after all, I told God I had enough and He continued to push me, He continued to test me and I told Him I was done. But I had no idea the strength that was built inside me and that had been growing through each moment of heartache. Each time I found another reason to grow weary, to be angry at Him for giving me a life that you only read about in self help books, He would allow me to cry, allow me to break and then place each part of me back together in His perfect way. Because of this I willingly allowed Him to continue to break me each time, I allowed myself to fall apart and would simply whisper “Why?”
Of course, He never answered; why would He? He owed me nothing and like a stubborn child I would stomp my feet and scream at Him, “WHY?!” Turns out the reason is NOW. If He hadn’t allowed me to fall apart the way that He did, I would not be sitting here NOW. I wouldn’t be free NOW. I wouldn’t be breathing NOW. I wouldn’t be loving NOW. I wouldn’t be strong NOW. I wouldn’t be a prayerful woman NOW. I wouldn’t be thankful NOW. I wouldn’t be worshiping Him NOW. And there are moments where I still ask Him “Why?” simply because the level of pain I’m able to endure is at magnified (and intense superhuman levels that I am am just now acknowledging) and I anticipate He will test me more in order to challenge my growth. But each moment I ask this, I know this answer will always be “FOR NOW.”
There is something especially magnificent about the way God seems to hold my hand through moments when I try to fight Him off. When times like this happen, my flesh responds first. I want to throw my arms in the air, blaming my carelessness on the lack of His presence in my moment of weakness, hitting anyone in my way and simply watching the aftermath ensue. I had the right, after all, I told God I had enough and He continued to push me, He continued to test me and I told Him I was done. But I had no idea the strength that was built inside me and that had been growing through each moment of heartache. Each time I found another reason to grow weary, to be angry at Him for giving me a life that you only read about in self help books, He would allow me to cry, allow me to break and then place each part of me back together in His perfect way. Because of this I willingly allowed Him to continue to break me each time, I allowed myself to fall apart and would simply whisper “Why?”
Of course, He never answered; why would He? He owed me nothing and like a stubborn child I would stomp my feet and scream at Him, “WHY?!” Turns out the reason is NOW. If He hadn’t allowed me to fall apart the way that He did, I would not be sitting here NOW. I wouldn’t be free NOW. I wouldn’t be breathing NOW. I wouldn’t be loving NOW. I wouldn’t be strong NOW. I wouldn’t be a prayerful woman NOW. I wouldn’t be thankful NOW. I wouldn’t be worshiping Him NOW. And there are moments where I still ask Him “Why?” simply because the level of pain I’m able to endure is at magnified (and intense superhuman levels that I am am just now acknowledging) and I anticipate He will test me more in order to challenge my growth. But each moment I ask this, I know this answer will always be “FOR NOW.”
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Master of Failure
Disclaimer: I am feeling a certain way today. Possibly the most confused I've been in a while. Emotions are fickle, so tomorrow I could be writing in a different tone. But for now, this is a little bit of a dark place. So if you can't handle raw emotion or honesty, don't continue reading.
.....
I used to joke around that I was a Jack of all and master of none. I always seem to have my hand in multiple hats and spin each really well, but may not have maxed my skills in any certain genre. Recently I have found that I, Dianna Lynn Gray, am the Master of Failure. My failure varies from personal skills all the way to love. I have found I am on a Master Splinter level (that's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle reference) when it comes to how frequently and effortlessly I am able to fail at love. Now, this is where I specify. It's not necessarily that I don't know how to love, because I truly do. I have this extremely passionate, unconditional, and selfless love. I tend to hand it out like dinner mints at a parade. I become addicted to the feeling. Well, I am addicted to love (in all her glorious forms). I like to spread her all over my friends and children. I cuddle and pinch and hug and kiss and hold hands. I'm in all in kind of love(stress).
There's a saying that goes: "Many people love the idea of you but lack the maturity to handle the reality of you." That's my life. 100% applicable.
The issue here:
I rarely get the love back.
Sometimes I do. It's temporal. Like a true addict I go through withdrawals, I have a physical reaction and become emotional. All I want is my next fix.
This is where you should know that I come from a family of addicts. I was blessed to not have any of my childhood demons follow me to adulthood and I have no vices. I have no bad habit that allows me to escape. Instead my drug of choice is love. Beyonce stole lyrics from my journal because I sure do get drunk in love. The horrible fact in all of this is that I tend to fail miserably when it comes to the whole execution of love. I over think and desire these deep connections and I usually receive them. The difficult (and failing) part is when the united party takes a step back, well 300 steps back in a fast pace then turns and starts running and I don't even know what's happening. Before I know it, I'm lost in this maze of confusion. Where did they go? What did I do? Why does this always happen? *hold opens arms* Will they come back and hug me? There's a new generation of abandoners that I had no idea existed, but apparently I attract the species in my life (in all forms).
What I have come to realize is that yes, maybe it is me. I am possibly the world's most intense person in life ever to love. I can be overwhelming. I question anyone's ability to love me. I question words and actions. I doubt people are capable of fighting the good fight with me. I. DOUBT. PEOPLE.
What have I learned? I'm glad you asked.
I don't doubt God.
There has to be a reason He keeps allowing me in all my free will glory to make the decision to try and love people when I know all that is going to happen is failure. In the end, God will be behind me with open arms and a compassionate look ready to receive His daughter again because I went giving away my love in all the dark places. I can only find comfort and solace in knowing that He has a purpose for all of it and a plan. I can't doubt that. I can't doubt Him.
This is the only reason my soul and heart have been able to be even partially resilient. She knows that God has a purpose. My pains are lessons. My hurt is sacrifice. I don't quite know why He uses me as much as He does, sometimes it's quite irritating, Like, "Okay, God. Give a girl a break man." But He's persistent. So whoever you are out there, the person my hurt is sacrificed for. Hurry up and learn your lesson, because I'm ready to be loved.
.....
I used to joke around that I was a Jack of all and master of none. I always seem to have my hand in multiple hats and spin each really well, but may not have maxed my skills in any certain genre. Recently I have found that I, Dianna Lynn Gray, am the Master of Failure. My failure varies from personal skills all the way to love. I have found I am on a Master Splinter level (that's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle reference) when it comes to how frequently and effortlessly I am able to fail at love. Now, this is where I specify. It's not necessarily that I don't know how to love, because I truly do. I have this extremely passionate, unconditional, and selfless love. I tend to hand it out like dinner mints at a parade. I become addicted to the feeling. Well, I am addicted to love (in all her glorious forms). I like to spread her all over my friends and children. I cuddle and pinch and hug and kiss and hold hands. I'm in all in kind of love(stress).
There's a saying that goes: "Many people love the idea of you but lack the maturity to handle the reality of you." That's my life. 100% applicable.
The issue here:
I rarely get the love back.
Sometimes I do. It's temporal. Like a true addict I go through withdrawals, I have a physical reaction and become emotional. All I want is my next fix.
This is where you should know that I come from a family of addicts. I was blessed to not have any of my childhood demons follow me to adulthood and I have no vices. I have no bad habit that allows me to escape. Instead my drug of choice is love. Beyonce stole lyrics from my journal because I sure do get drunk in love. The horrible fact in all of this is that I tend to fail miserably when it comes to the whole execution of love. I over think and desire these deep connections and I usually receive them. The difficult (and failing) part is when the united party takes a step back, well 300 steps back in a fast pace then turns and starts running and I don't even know what's happening. Before I know it, I'm lost in this maze of confusion. Where did they go? What did I do? Why does this always happen? *hold opens arms* Will they come back and hug me? There's a new generation of abandoners that I had no idea existed, but apparently I attract the species in my life (in all forms).
What I have come to realize is that yes, maybe it is me. I am possibly the world's most intense person in life ever to love. I can be overwhelming. I question anyone's ability to love me. I question words and actions. I doubt people are capable of fighting the good fight with me. I. DOUBT. PEOPLE.
What have I learned? I'm glad you asked.
I don't doubt God.
There has to be a reason He keeps allowing me in all my free will glory to make the decision to try and love people when I know all that is going to happen is failure. In the end, God will be behind me with open arms and a compassionate look ready to receive His daughter again because I went giving away my love in all the dark places. I can only find comfort and solace in knowing that He has a purpose for all of it and a plan. I can't doubt that. I can't doubt Him.
This is the only reason my soul and heart have been able to be even partially resilient. She knows that God has a purpose. My pains are lessons. My hurt is sacrifice. I don't quite know why He uses me as much as He does, sometimes it's quite irritating, Like, "Okay, God. Give a girl a break man." But He's persistent. So whoever you are out there, the person my hurt is sacrificed for. Hurry up and learn your lesson, because I'm ready to be loved.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Beautiful Grit
I saw her not from across the room, but sitting next to me on a bench as we waited
It's harder to observe a person when they're so close to you, but that's what I did
I noticed the braid in her hair was slightly more loose on one side and that she had bitten the edge of her left index nail off
I watched her pick at it as her knees started to bounce in anticipation
She had an alternating twitch of anxiety
I could almost see her nerves trigger each one
I could feel her heart start to pound next to me
I could hear her inhale and imagined her lungs thanking her for finally giving into a motion that should have been involuntary
Her skin was flawed with beauty marks and scars that seemed to tell stories
I was even more intrigued because she used her hair to hide them
She had a story
I wanted to ask
Instead I sat back and told it to myself
She fell in love young and he loved her for her battle wounds
the way the world quietly crushed everything she loved
the way she responded to being denied
the way her heart seemed bruised the perfect hue of purple and black
yet housed her greatest love for him in the darkest corner of everything he didn't know
She was misunderstood most of her life
never able to marry eloquent words constantly divorcing sentences in an effort to share custody of a poem
never able to make love to music efforts futile in a repeated dry exchange of fluids across her lips as she sang off key about a forgotten truth
She was flawed by her openess and scarred by her self inflicted pains of denial
a constant reminder of how tainted her memories would flow
undemanding of her attention until she was alone at 3am
She crashed into everything with a force mighty and unapologetic
for disrupting hearts and lives
for invoking thoughts
for creating fierce lovers
for creating an uprising
for initating evolution in hearts
She left them speechless, breathless and lost
without her to guide their thoughts
because without her their world was dim and shaded grey
without being able to peek at her flaws they only knew what they didn't know
that they couldn't live or breathe
Now I looked at her in awe of her beauty
the grit in her eyes
without knowing the truth cascading down her arm as she reached into her side
pocket
She took out a pen, black the ends chewed on and frayed
I couldn't look away as she permitted the ink to stain her left hand
Palm down she placed her hand on mine
and transferred her story as my own
It's harder to observe a person when they're so close to you, but that's what I did
I noticed the braid in her hair was slightly more loose on one side and that she had bitten the edge of her left index nail off
I watched her pick at it as her knees started to bounce in anticipation
She had an alternating twitch of anxiety
I could almost see her nerves trigger each one
I could feel her heart start to pound next to me
I could hear her inhale and imagined her lungs thanking her for finally giving into a motion that should have been involuntary
Her skin was flawed with beauty marks and scars that seemed to tell stories
I was even more intrigued because she used her hair to hide them
She had a story
I wanted to ask
Instead I sat back and told it to myself
She fell in love young and he loved her for her battle wounds
the way the world quietly crushed everything she loved
the way she responded to being denied
the way her heart seemed bruised the perfect hue of purple and black
yet housed her greatest love for him in the darkest corner of everything he didn't know
She was misunderstood most of her life
never able to marry eloquent words constantly divorcing sentences in an effort to share custody of a poem
never able to make love to music efforts futile in a repeated dry exchange of fluids across her lips as she sang off key about a forgotten truth
She was flawed by her openess and scarred by her self inflicted pains of denial
a constant reminder of how tainted her memories would flow
undemanding of her attention until she was alone at 3am
She crashed into everything with a force mighty and unapologetic
for disrupting hearts and lives
for invoking thoughts
for creating fierce lovers
for creating an uprising
for initating evolution in hearts
She left them speechless, breathless and lost
without her to guide their thoughts
because without her their world was dim and shaded grey
without being able to peek at her flaws they only knew what they didn't know
that they couldn't live or breathe
Now I looked at her in awe of her beauty
the grit in her eyes
without knowing the truth cascading down her arm as she reached into her side
She took out a pen, black the ends chewed on and frayed
I couldn't look away as she permitted the ink to stain her left hand
Palm down she placed her hand on mine
and transferred her story as my own
Friday, August 1, 2014
Swollen Eyes and Red Lips
Through tears.
This post is made possible through tears.
We all go on small journeys throughout our lives and don't even notice the majority of them; not until it's time to say goodbye. Suddenly we're looking back and replaying memories and attempting to taste, smell and touch things and people who are no longer there. Personally, going from running a four person household to being a single entity for a month was a very obvious journey. Today, ironically a day of finalization (which is also the middle of the week...there's so much irony in my life), has me looking back on my journey. When I woke today, I had no idea there would be so much significance in the day or in the finality that it would bring. I find myself looking for closure in areas I know I may never receive answers in. I've cried, but not that snot nosed cry. Not yet. I have to wait because I know that once I start I won't be able to stop for a full day...and well, I'm a mom and we moms have to keep it together around our kids.
So tonight, all week really, I've been exhausted emotionally and physically. I have been drained and gone through so many multiple emotions (sometimes two within an hour). As I attempted to rest my mind early tonight, I was awoken by a nightmare. Not the kind that you see in movies, but your true real life nightmare. It woke me out of my sleep and I immediately found myself reaching out for a person in order to have peace from the turmoil this dream brought me. Literally, TWENTY-SEVEN unanswered phone calls and FIFTEEN text messages later (to one person) I began to realize I was doing it again. I was laying my joy and peace in the hands of another person. With each painful voicemail pick up my heart ripped. All those stitches I had been sewing in for the past few months began to rip. My heart panicked because she didn't know how to beat when I was cutting her open. I couldn't stop myself. I was so hopeful that the person I was calling would hear the desperation in my voice, that they would know my heart and would know I needed them. I cried out again. My cries quite literally went unanswered.
I was crazed, panicked, anxious, and in pain. Real pain. My chest caved into my ribs and I couldn't breathe. I was willing to take back everything and go back to monotony. I would shell up, stop writing, stop creating, anything to get rid of this feeling of death. I could feel my blood start to warm up in my arms. I laid in the dark with my eyes squeezed shut and began to whisper to God. I didn't ask why. I didn't ask for Him to do anything for me, I'm not quite sure what I whispered, but I whispered and whatever it was He heard it. Because I am His child and He created my heart, He knows that what calms me most is music. With my eyes still closed He created a song in me. It was one of those songs that you feel like you've known your whole life, but as soon as I opened my eyes, it was gone. The only thing I can remember is the word "Smile" being written over and over again. So many things began to manifest inside me, but all I wanted to do was dwell in the peace that He was giving me. Instead He kept my mind awake and now here I am writing this.
I share all of this because, as I said before, this is therapy for me but it's also my testimony. I feel there is no other true emotion than the kind you feel instinctively. My gift is creation/writing. I know that someone out there is awake right now, struggling trying to find peace as well. Tonight I rolled around in my flesh and pain and permitted myself to be human. Tonight God reminded me that He will give us what our heart desires. Sometimes it hurts and we're not prepared for that, or we feel we are and it turns out we're weaker than we thought. I was weak tonight. Probably the weakest I've ever been. I found no solace in people and when I tried to reach out the one person who was able to provide comfort for me before, I was abandoned. I needed that.
I needed to be reminded that people will abandon you even the ones who say they never will. We are an unreliable flesh and there is no louder rejection than being outwardly ignored during your lowest and most painful moments. I was allowed to feel and see this because God needed my attention. He needed me to see that HE is my father, HE is my husband, HE is my lover, He is my friend. There will never be anyone who can provide the love and comfort of my God. My relationship with Him was tainted because I've been angry at Him and didn't even know it. I focused so much on what PEOPLE were doing TO me that I had lost sight on what GOD has done FOR me.
I needed peace, but what I wasn't aware of was that I had lost it because I had given PIECES of myself away to someone who couldn't do for me what ONLY God can do. Tonight I take back my peace and pieces.
This post is made possible through tears.
We all go on small journeys throughout our lives and don't even notice the majority of them; not until it's time to say goodbye. Suddenly we're looking back and replaying memories and attempting to taste, smell and touch things and people who are no longer there. Personally, going from running a four person household to being a single entity for a month was a very obvious journey. Today, ironically a day of finalization (which is also the middle of the week...there's so much irony in my life), has me looking back on my journey. When I woke today, I had no idea there would be so much significance in the day or in the finality that it would bring. I find myself looking for closure in areas I know I may never receive answers in. I've cried, but not that snot nosed cry. Not yet. I have to wait because I know that once I start I won't be able to stop for a full day...and well, I'm a mom and we moms have to keep it together around our kids.
So tonight, all week really, I've been exhausted emotionally and physically. I have been drained and gone through so many multiple emotions (sometimes two within an hour). As I attempted to rest my mind early tonight, I was awoken by a nightmare. Not the kind that you see in movies, but your true real life nightmare. It woke me out of my sleep and I immediately found myself reaching out for a person in order to have peace from the turmoil this dream brought me. Literally, TWENTY-SEVEN unanswered phone calls and FIFTEEN text messages later (to one person) I began to realize I was doing it again. I was laying my joy and peace in the hands of another person. With each painful voicemail pick up my heart ripped. All those stitches I had been sewing in for the past few months began to rip. My heart panicked because she didn't know how to beat when I was cutting her open. I couldn't stop myself. I was so hopeful that the person I was calling would hear the desperation in my voice, that they would know my heart and would know I needed them. I cried out again. My cries quite literally went unanswered.
I was crazed, panicked, anxious, and in pain. Real pain. My chest caved into my ribs and I couldn't breathe. I was willing to take back everything and go back to monotony. I would shell up, stop writing, stop creating, anything to get rid of this feeling of death. I could feel my blood start to warm up in my arms. I laid in the dark with my eyes squeezed shut and began to whisper to God. I didn't ask why. I didn't ask for Him to do anything for me, I'm not quite sure what I whispered, but I whispered and whatever it was He heard it. Because I am His child and He created my heart, He knows that what calms me most is music. With my eyes still closed He created a song in me. It was one of those songs that you feel like you've known your whole life, but as soon as I opened my eyes, it was gone. The only thing I can remember is the word "Smile" being written over and over again. So many things began to manifest inside me, but all I wanted to do was dwell in the peace that He was giving me. Instead He kept my mind awake and now here I am writing this.
I share all of this because, as I said before, this is therapy for me but it's also my testimony. I feel there is no other true emotion than the kind you feel instinctively. My gift is creation/writing. I know that someone out there is awake right now, struggling trying to find peace as well. Tonight I rolled around in my flesh and pain and permitted myself to be human. Tonight God reminded me that He will give us what our heart desires. Sometimes it hurts and we're not prepared for that, or we feel we are and it turns out we're weaker than we thought. I was weak tonight. Probably the weakest I've ever been. I found no solace in people and when I tried to reach out the one person who was able to provide comfort for me before, I was abandoned. I needed that.
I needed to be reminded that people will abandon you even the ones who say they never will. We are an unreliable flesh and there is no louder rejection than being outwardly ignored during your lowest and most painful moments. I was allowed to feel and see this because God needed my attention. He needed me to see that HE is my father, HE is my husband, HE is my lover, He is my friend. There will never be anyone who can provide the love and comfort of my God. My relationship with Him was tainted because I've been angry at Him and didn't even know it. I focused so much on what PEOPLE were doing TO me that I had lost sight on what GOD has done FOR me.
I needed peace, but what I wasn't aware of was that I had lost it because I had given PIECES of myself away to someone who couldn't do for me what ONLY God can do. Tonight I take back my peace and pieces.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Just Listen
Before you begin to read this, please know, this is MY story. I do not share because I want to expose anyone or anything, I share because this is MY testimony and how I heal.
Enjoy.
During my mini and struggling hiatus I have been receiving so much encouragement and at the same time have been struggling to encourage myself on some days. I think those are the day when God takes over and says, "Sit down, girl, I got this." Recently I've received a few e-mails from women asking me "How do you do it?" This question has been following me around for years. Most times I begin my answer with "I don't know" and then before I know it I'm uncovering relevant moments when God has not only carried, but fed me during times of spiritual starvation.
In response to an e-mail I wrote this:
"You're probably asleep and in my true nature I'm up thinking and writing. I've been waiting for the right time to be able to sit down and type my response for you. Your question actually helped inspire my latest blog post/book entry. I can't say that I've moved ON, but moved FORWARD. There's this saying that you can only move in two directions, forward or back. If you are still (stagnant) you are not moving. I refused to allow myself to stay stuck in a position of pain, misery and depression. Not to say that I didn't live there for a while, because I did. But eventually the pain inflicted from him breaking my heart was too much for me to bare. I couldn't handle the lies anymore. I had to move somewhere and backwards was not an option, so I decided to move forward. It has been one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made because I think of my kids, but I also couldn't allow them to see a mother who was miserable and always hurt. I couldn't allow my daughter to believe that a man should treat her like that or for my son to think it was okay. Now when it comes to finding the strength...it's a daily and sometimes hourly struggle. I'm still finding out lies that hurt me and I feel like I'm dying, but then I realize: "I AM BETTER THAN THIS." YOU ARE TOO. You have to encourage yourself, because you're all you have. At the end of the night when you go to bed it's you struggling with your thoughts and THAT'S when you hand it over to God. HE's there for you. I'm not sure how your relationship with God is, and mine is NOT perfect, but He has lifted me up EVERY time I've been weak. EVERY time I've failed. I'm definitely here for you. Encouraging/helping other women keeps me alive. I need you too. I love you girl. Please let me know if this helped at all."
After sending this e-mail I've been sitting, intensely allowing my thoughts to process and filter through my mind and heart. I am very careful about what I write and when. If there is one thing I have learned over this past (almost year), it's that my artistry and spirit are not purposed to damage, but to uplift. I was broken down so that I would know what it's like, so that I could experience first hand the different levels of pain and have a testimony of how I still thrived.
It's. Not. Easy.
I remember when I used to say "it's not fair" to my mom (complaining about heartbreak and why I didn't get to go gallivant outdoors), her response was always "Who told you life was fair?" I think about that often. We are handed certain tests and in the same sense when you're older, in a higher grade, and get harder tests; God hands you tests that are more difficult the more you mature in your spiritual growth. It's not fair. It's not meant to be fair. It's meant to make you grow. It's meant to force you to see how strong He has made you when others (including yourself) are telling you that you are weak.
I am not super woman. I don't have super powers or answers to all of life's problems. I can't heal you with my book or photos or eloquently placed adjectives and verbs.
I can only inspire. I can only aid.
That change you need? That strength you need?
It's all inside of you, God placed it there, specifically for this moment.
Close your eyes, breathe, and go get it.
Enjoy.
During my mini and struggling hiatus I have been receiving so much encouragement and at the same time have been struggling to encourage myself on some days. I think those are the day when God takes over and says, "Sit down, girl, I got this." Recently I've received a few e-mails from women asking me "How do you do it?" This question has been following me around for years. Most times I begin my answer with "I don't know" and then before I know it I'm uncovering relevant moments when God has not only carried, but fed me during times of spiritual starvation.
In response to an e-mail I wrote this:
"You're probably asleep and in my true nature I'm up thinking and writing. I've been waiting for the right time to be able to sit down and type my response for you. Your question actually helped inspire my latest blog post/book entry. I can't say that I've moved ON, but moved FORWARD. There's this saying that you can only move in two directions, forward or back. If you are still (stagnant) you are not moving. I refused to allow myself to stay stuck in a position of pain, misery and depression. Not to say that I didn't live there for a while, because I did. But eventually the pain inflicted from him breaking my heart was too much for me to bare. I couldn't handle the lies anymore. I had to move somewhere and backwards was not an option, so I decided to move forward. It has been one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made because I think of my kids, but I also couldn't allow them to see a mother who was miserable and always hurt. I couldn't allow my daughter to believe that a man should treat her like that or for my son to think it was okay. Now when it comes to finding the strength...it's a daily and sometimes hourly struggle. I'm still finding out lies that hurt me and I feel like I'm dying, but then I realize: "I AM BETTER THAN THIS." YOU ARE TOO. You have to encourage yourself, because you're all you have. At the end of the night when you go to bed it's you struggling with your thoughts and THAT'S when you hand it over to God. HE's there for you. I'm not sure how your relationship with God is, and mine is NOT perfect, but He has lifted me up EVERY time I've been weak. EVERY time I've failed. I'm definitely here for you. Encouraging/helping other women keeps me alive. I need you too. I love you girl. Please let me know if this helped at all."
After sending this e-mail I've been sitting, intensely allowing my thoughts to process and filter through my mind and heart. I am very careful about what I write and when. If there is one thing I have learned over this past (almost year), it's that my artistry and spirit are not purposed to damage, but to uplift. I was broken down so that I would know what it's like, so that I could experience first hand the different levels of pain and have a testimony of how I still thrived.
It's. Not. Easy.
I remember when I used to say "it's not fair" to my mom (complaining about heartbreak and why I didn't get to go gallivant outdoors), her response was always "Who told you life was fair?" I think about that often. We are handed certain tests and in the same sense when you're older, in a higher grade, and get harder tests; God hands you tests that are more difficult the more you mature in your spiritual growth. It's not fair. It's not meant to be fair. It's meant to make you grow. It's meant to force you to see how strong He has made you when others (including yourself) are telling you that you are weak.
I am not super woman. I don't have super powers or answers to all of life's problems. I can't heal you with my book or photos or eloquently placed adjectives and verbs.
I can only inspire. I can only aid.
That change you need? That strength you need?
It's all inside of you, God placed it there, specifically for this moment.
Close your eyes, breathe, and go get it.
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