My Heart Exposed

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Waiting in a room with chairs around a table doesn't sound so terrible,Yet the trepidation in my mind surpassed incredible.It is now beyond my wildest dream of sadnessThe forces of two sides pitted against one another.
I am not property.
If ever a soul was grieved, it is mine.If ever a heart crumbled, mine has done so.If ever there was need of healing, it is in this very moment.
I am not loved.
Now I must go out into the world each dayPretending I somehow fit in,Somehow I believe this will all get better,Somehow I don't have fear for the future--for me, my disabled daughter, my sons, and my angry, heartbroken, little girl.
I am not present.
The tears just keep fallingand falling, falling down my faceand onto my shirt;I'm a slobbery mess inside and out.
I am not at peace.
I wake from dreams where I am weepingonly to realize it is only my heart grievingOverwhelming grief for the loss of a dream gnawsat every shard of gladness that dares cut through the pain.
I am not happy.
This mother's heart laments the freedom lostto choose how long to always be there for her childrenwithout her time divided by a separate employment.They all seem too young to have to leave them, to spend time with other people's children instead of my own.
I am not ready.
I struggle with speaking about this tragedy.Even writing it feels labored and strained.My heart is afraid to open up. Even just enough to seek solace from friendscauses more suffering than it is worth.  This crippling silence might be hurting me morebut I don't have the strength to move out of this place.
I am not comforted. 
The tears, they well up so quicklyinto a flood that washes over meHurting at the beginningyet somehow healing in between.
I am not sure. 
Numbness, quietness, dullness:all eat away at the woman I want to be. I'm a moth-eaten coat with no claim check.
I am not wanted.
My physical heart continues to raceI cannot get it to stop thinkingit is a race horse pushing to the finishit cannot stop, even for sleep,or it might not make it to the lastmost important partor has that part already passedand it just doesn't know it?
I am not able to rest.
I stare off into the distance,not knowing how to feel,trying to silence feelings run wild,running toward nothing,hoping for something,wanting peace and love and care,wishing so hard that I ache.
I am not seen.
Breathing is what I do best now.Usually, it is taken for granted.Usually, it just happens.Now, breathing almost hurts.Now, remembering to breathe takes conscious effort.
I am not living.
When I stop to catch my breath, I ponder on how life has changed.Where is everyone who began this nightmare with me?A few have stayed loyally at my sideeven when my rawness made them uncomfortableand sometimes speechless.More than a few have left me by the waysideto fend for myself, exposed and aloneRealizing how solitary every soul can be.I treasure up my faith like a priceless gift.I treasure up any flicker of friendship I receive.
I am valuable.
When will the tears dry up?The possibility of having an unending wellof salted tears makes my head hurtin advance and makes me want to cry morefor all the love there is in the world,When will the tears quit falling down?
I am courageous.
Questions rushlike a river down a rocky ravinelike wind through cottonwood trees on a warm summer daylike words from the mouth of a confused eight-year-old girllike traffic on the freewaylike students in the hall right before class startslike tears that come from a broken heartlike wishes blown into the breeze from a dandelion tuftlike are you getting divorced? from the mouth of my boylike a wildfire down a brush-covered hillside.But, time is holding its breath, nearly standing stillwhile I find the wordsas if everything rushed so I could stop to savor the painof this poignant crossroads in my journey on earth.
I am free to choose.
This journey has opened my heart --cracked it wide open-- exposing raw realizationsof sadness, regret, knowing, and hope.
I am able to learn.
Oh, this heart of mine will not be comforted!It refuses no matter what solace there is to be foundI have faith enough to be healed(or so I thought)Or maybe this wound will become part of my faith.It might teach me to take better care,Better care of this heart.
I am loved.
If no one ever loves me again,I want to love myself enough to keep expecting the best.The best of everything is what everyone wants.How will I obtain it?
I am capable. 
Sometimes, I believe I might besearching for an non-findable abstraction.Oftentimes, I think I could beoffering too much and too little of myselfat the same time. All the time, I know I want to beloving someone
who loves medeeply
eternally
 gratefully
faithfully 
undeniably
passionatelyromantically
wholeheartedly and all the whilein realityknowing
I am worth it.


a compilation of writings
from February 9, 2012 through April 2, 2012




related links:

I Will Survive

Broken Hearts Heal

Word of the Year: Broken




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Every Parking Lot Should Have One

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I pulled into the parking lot of my attorney's office. None of the close Visitor spots were open, so I had to drive around to the other side of the lot to see if there were some other close ones available for my use. This could be anyone's story on any given day in any parking lot anywhere, right? What I saw next is NOT so very typical. As I slowly drove past the handicapped parking spots (all in blue, of course), I saw an empty spot at the end of that row. The only problem is it had a sign on a pole in front of it as well. But then, my brain did a double take and realized the sign was not blue but PINK! What the heck is a handicapped parking sign doing being PINK??, I thought to myself. My next instant thought told me someone must have had some fun spray painting; next instant thought was it could be expectant mother parking (I have seen that before, but only in Babies R Us parking lots from time to time); and my next thought was to just read the sign, woman! So I did. Immediately, I got out of my car and took a snapshot with my junky phone camera because for some stupid reason I had forgotten to put my camera back in my purse (yes, I have started carrying my camera with me everywhere. and yes, I am a geek.).


The only thing I would wish to change on this lovely signage is, obviously, to have it in purple and  encrusted in glitter and/or bead work of the fabulous variety. and hung prominently in my garage.

So back to my story--I totally parked in that spot. Out of anyone in the world who needed to get a boost, I was definitely the person right then. It was kind of silly to feel special about getting to park in a spot just because it had a pink sign in front of it, but it worked.

I can't think of a title so this is what you get

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Yesterday, I realized what the Slice of Life Story Challenge did for me in March. It got me to think outside of myself and not allow silence to creep in. I might have written about some of my hard things, but at least I was writing instead of feeling like I do now.

I posted on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday on the leftover steam from it, I think. But the steam ran out, and now-- you have the wanting/needing-to-be-silent person we were dealing with in February. It could have something to do with the school workload that I can hardly bear, yet it probably has most to do with my emotional and mental state. Let's face it. If I were doing better, I would be able to handle my stupid homework and not feel as if I were going to have an anxiety attack over doing the stuff. No one ever died just from doing their homework. 

I keep having these feelings like I am being lazy; I need to get over things and move on; Stop making excuses; You are a better student than this; Maybe you won't ever graduate; Maybe you shouldn't because you won't learn enough in this state to do a good job anyway; If I don't become a teacher, what will I do to take care of myself?; He is such a jerk for stopping wanting to taking care of me; I can't stand my life. 

And yes, I totally shared what goes through my mind at some point almost daily.

Not wanting to be completely negative, although I have no vision for how to spin this into a positive life lesson learned thing, I must share with you how blessed I have been amidst all this garbahge.

There have been a few family members who have gone out of their way to be present in my life with understanding and kindness. I have an aunt and two sisters-in-law who seem to have time when I need it and just the right words that I need to hear when I am struggling. The hand of friendship has been a major blessing to me in these difficult days lately. My BFF is amazing (and her husband) for being a listening ear, a support, and strength for me. I try hard not to turn her into a crutch, or more like my wheelchair, but some days I think I could really lose it if I didn't have her to talk to. Also, I have a neighbor who has become a very dear friend. She and I do so much together. She helps me with my children so I can attend school and go to appointments. We do fun things with the children and exercise together. She doesn't look at me like I'm nuts when I deserve a look or two.

Then, I have so many friends of the moment I can hardly count them all. It amazes me how much love I actually have received during this romantic love famine. Random acts of pure love and charity keep raining down on me, washing away the hurt and sadness for a little while, showing me people care whether or not I am happy and have all that I really need.

I think my big problem (and possibly everyone's problem when having bad days) is I keep getting on a kick where I don't remember the good things. I only look at the deluge of stupid stuff and turn a blind eye to the healing love that is shown me almost daily as well.  One of my friends said to make a list of all the tender mercies God grants me and put it somewhere I can see it every day. I have yet to do that. I am going to start working on it today and share it with all of you.

For accountability purposes--if you don't see a list soon, leave random reminder comments on random posts until I do. Maybe I will get it together knowing it is expected soon.

the day before Easter

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Bunny Cake: inspired by K. Cummins

On the Saturday before Easter, we do the egg coloring, Easter egg hunts, crafting, and preparatory baking. Doing it this way, we have a day focused on the Easter Bunny and save Easter Sunday to focus on celebrating the resurrection of Christ.

This morning, we spent time with our neighbors. We started off with a short scriptural lesson about the events surrounding the atonement, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus, which elaborated on some of the symbolism we find in our Easter festivities. Then we started in on the fun stuff: coloring eggs and making bunny cakes.

After all that, my friend and one of her sons piled into our van with us and we drove out to BYU for a hugeamongous Easter Egg Hunt hosted by Cosmo (the BYU mascot) and the Easter Bunny. I totally forgot to take a picture of the football field, but let me tell you, it was covered with candy, eggs, and prizes. Just covered. The children had a blast swooping down on all the treats. Even my autistic, toddler-like teenager was able to get a bunch of fun stuff. It was so well organized and entertaining.

So now I am cleaning up the kitchen, preparing jell-o jiggler eggs, salads, and trying to not go insane with all the hyper, hopped-up-on-sugar monkey people running around the house.

Seeking to Become - April 2012

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Seeking to Become

Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. 

Isaiah 41: 10 
I cannot think of a better way to celebrate Easter than to focus on how to become more like the Savior, Jesus Christ. The load I have had to bear is nothing in comparison to that of my Redeemer, and I give thanks this Easter morning for the brightness of hope I have available to me because of his infinite sacrifice.

This month I want to focus on the strength and power that the Atonement offers, enabling me to cast out fear and dismay. Christ set the perfect example by facing death without fear. Also, he promises to help and uphold--even with his hand. All I need do is trust that he is with me and allow his holy refreshing to wash over me as I strive to move forward with my life in joy and gladness.

Related Link:

The Beginning of Seeking to Become

Social Media Friends: IRL or not so much?

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There was an article on a blog I read during the Slice of Life Story Challenge in March (which means I don't know which one exactly since I read so many) that brought up the topic of friends we make through social media--blogs, comments, twitter, etc. I have been pondering on it so much lately because I too have had the thought cross my mind: What happens if my social media friends just stop posting or tweeting? I would not know if they just decided to stop cold-turkey or if a tragedy had occurred. There would be no way to know and no way to help if they needed help. There is not much I can do, so the rational person within me says to stop thinking about it because you can't do anything anyway. But the worry bug bites (and it does quite often) and I start thinking about how I need to give my passwords to my BFF and maybe someone else so they can send a post out along the wires in the event that I can no longer communicate, just in case people might care if I inexplicably dropped out of the picture one day. I know it sounds ridiculous, yet I don't think it really is when you think about it. So many people consider social media not real life and refer to things going on outside of social media as IRL (in real life), but aren't I actually, in real life, sharing my thoughts, creativity, and parts of myself with everyone here reading this?

Please don't misunderstand. I recognize that my live interactions are different, but I refuse to discount the friendships I make with genuine, real people even if I have never met you. There are countless people who visit my blog, leave a comment, and by doing so become part of my support team--part of my real life. I have made friends with a quite a few men and women whom I would miss if I never heard from them again. There are even a handful of them I would miss after a couple days of not interacting because we have become good friends. There are two sweeties on twitter who, almost daily, wish me a good night or a good morning or do a shout out to their peeps about how I am so awesome. Who wouldn't miss that?! Those are definitely part of the rays of sunshine I have glimmering through my tempestuous storm clouds-- in real life. I feel like I have a support group of the virtual sort for my autism aspect of life. One of my autism buddies lives in Hawaii and we have leaned on each other during some really hard moments these past few months. I have a friend who I can tell pretty much anything and I never feel judged. We interact nearly every day even if it's just to make sure the other is alright--especially since we all know I'm not doing alright lately. even the opposite of alright.

So anyways.

This friend is who prompted me to write on the topic. I haven't had any interactions since Friday, and I know it hasn't been that long but it feels like a long time since I have grown used to having that particular friend as a facet of my daily sanity support staff.  I hope all is well. I hope my worries are not justified. The thought comes to mind that maybe I have become a bore. Or the opposite-- a car accident has occurred and my friend is suffering or worse. But, I stop myself and recognize I cannot change any of it. People find others boring after awhile sometimes, accidents happen, and sometimes there are unexplainables in life.

My life is crazy right now. I can barely keep breathing straight. But one thing I know is that I appreciate all my friends no matter the source from whence you came. 

I talk about the friends who do things for/with me to offer thanks for them. Well, I hope every single one of my virtual friends knows how much you make a difference, how you are helping me IRL, how I count you as for real friends (FRF).

And my biggest hope is I might make a positive difference in your real life too.


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The Dangers of Riding in Elevators

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I walked unsuspectingly inside the elevator. Three smiling men were talking and obvious friends. Another woman and I figured out whether the floor we needed was lit up on the number pad, then the doors closed. Right away, one man turned to us and said, You two are ladies, then turned to his friends and said, I bet they'd know.

I thought to myself, What could these perfect strangers need to know from me?

These guys then proceeded to explain how they had been arguing over grammar--more specifically whether or not it is proper to say Me and Steve went somewhere or if it is better to say Steve and I... My next thought was Do I have some grammar sticker across my forehead or what??? And my very next thought was Wow, I never knew men talked about grammar outside of school? What I said out loud (once the other woman said she believed the second choice was correct) was that Steve and I is the absolute correct way to say it. Then the questions started flying. The one who was right appeared quite satisfied but had more questions, and the other two actually attempted to continue arguing after my definitive reply. I most decidedly shut them down. I mentioned my English Teaching major status and how I just know. They piped down, asking hows and whys, so I gave a short elevator version of usage differences in subjects and predicates, as well as a mini {elevator} lesson on the difference between Grammar A and Grammar B. Then, as the elevator door opened I summed things up, leaving them open-mouthed and stunned by my mad grammar skills.

Mind you--this occurred in the space of three minutes or less. I can hardly fathom how fast I must have been speaking. It was probably some world record or something. Insanity.

My deepest gratitude goes out to my mother for ingraining the basics into me from a young and tender age as well as to my Grammar Teaching instructor, Dr. Deborah Dean, who taught me all I know about how to teach grammar to others. Without their lessons, mad skills would have been mediocre guessing.


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