Waaaaaaaaaaait

I am not, by nature, a very patient person. I do not cope well with things taking longer than I think they should. This manifests itself many different ways in my day to day life; I get cranky in traffic, I curse people with my mind in lines, I leave projects unfinished, and I generally lose stamina for a task that seems to extend beyond fathomable limits.

Just now, I am somewhere in the middle of a wait. I had fully planned on being West coast bound by now, or at least have a ticket purchased for my move. Instead, I am waiting for a bed to sell so that I can afford said ticket. In the meantime there are plenty of things to get me frustrated and close to the complete explosion of my head, neck, and collarbone area - which I imagine would be a horribly time-consuming mess for someone else to have to clean up.

You see, when left to my own designs, I begin to doubt myself. I doubt decisions I make (or made), my ability to complete the task at hand, my judgement of circumstances, whether or not I have followed God or my own stubborn will, etc. The more time I am given to mull over doubt, the more I give myself over to it. Whether valid or not, I will latch on to small things and take them as signs of a mistake coming...a mistake of my own making which will have consequences unbearably dreary to deal with.

I sometimes wonder if the Lord will ever simply tire of my continued disagreement with His set time for things and just let me get on with having everything my own way. Then I remember that I am a beloved creation for whom God wants nothing but the best, and will indeed settle with nothing more than the best, that I can become. I realize that awful and awesome truth that I must yield my way to his, that I must bend my will lest the world break me.

So it's really quite harder than it looks, this waiting. Doing nothing has never cost me so much. But I must remember that there is an end; there is always an end. Eventually patience, persistence, and perseverance give way to their reward, whether it's what I've expected or not... and I have a feeling that during this current trial a great deal of trust will be required as well.

Tossing and Turning

Tonight I cant sleep, because you are on my mind - so I'm going to write this as if I am writing to you. I'm going to say all the things that keep me awake and hit me in the middle of the day. May it give me peace.

I don't know if you know how I feel for you. I've never actually come out and explained it. I love you; mostly as a friend, but there are those feelings of Eros involved. I have felt this way a long time, even during times when I wouldn't see you for a while. I wouldn't think of you, then BAM, you were there and every feeling flooded right up to the surface.

You make me happy. Time spent with you is time that is happy for me. I can hope it's happy for you; I don't know for sure but I think it mostly is. This happiness had for a time led me to sort of make an idol of you; something I'm glad I figured out and prayed away. However, even when you're not an idol, you're presence in my day to day life (or lack of it) is keenly felt throughout the day.


 I think the big problem is that I am unable to attract you physically, and perhaps a bit emotionally. The fact that I am (by worldly standards) a plain, obese woman is not in my favor. I could list a lot of physical faults, but I try to love them rather than dwell on them. Mentally, I am aware that I am a mess right now, and the getting better is slow going. Yet here's the deal. I get to be loved. I get to be adored. I get to be beautiful. I get to be pursued.

I feel that we have a connection, and it's frustrating that the lack of attraction or the awkward weirdness of some past situations is keeping me from...well, from claiming you as my own. I have never trusted attraction, because it's led me astray far too many times. A connection felt by both would be what people refer to as "in love". Because there are not two way romantic feelings, what I feel now that isn't covered by the love of friendship could be called the waiting reception of Eros - or something along that vein.

All of it aside, because of my love, I really want to see you happy. I would do almost anything to make that happen, including stepping aside so that another woman can have the place I wish so dearly to hold. That makes me feel good about my love, like there's a lack of total selfishness to it.

I'm leaving soon, and it sucks that that also means leaving where you are. I've probably already been clingy, and I'm sure that it's more than obvious from my actions how I feel. But it's good to get the feelings out in the open, rather than toss and turn at night or wander off into daydreams. More people should be honest about their emotions towards others. Maybe not in blog form, but in whatever way fits the situation and time.

And now that I come to my finish, I realize that maybe I didn't write this just for you. Maybe I also wrote it for the other people in my life who feel lonely-who feel the need to be adored, strong, loved, or beautiful-but are for whatever reason not the recipients of such favors. My heart goes out to those as I post this up and go to a much deserved sleep.

Sometimes it's best to not succeed.

On July 23, 2011, I tried to kill myself. Seeing as I am still alive, it is obvious that I did not succeed in my endeavor. I got about halfway through the pills that I was taking, freaked out, woke my sister, and called 911. After having my stomach pumped at 1:00 am (which I don't recommend, because it is the farthest thing from an enjoyable experience I can think of) I sat in a hospital room falling in and out of sleep until being transferred to a Mental Health Treatment Center.

I could go on and on about the experiences I had there, relive some of the lows and exhalt in the highs, but that is for another time. Right now, I just feel glad to be alive. Ironically, the number of pills I had planned on taking would not have killed me, but it doesn't change the fact that I wanted my life on this world to end. I was not thinking rationally, but there was some logic in the arguments I had laid in front of myself during the previous month. Yes, this was a plan that had been in readiness for that long, just waiting for the right time. Now I can't believe that I wanted to throw my life away.

Things haven't miraculously changed. I'm still depressed, still anxious, and still have the same problems that I had before. The lonliness of feeling unloved still rears its ugly head, and in my self-conciousness I question whether people are sincere in their kind words to me. Yet I feel hope now. I have made plans for my life that I was afraid to before. I am leaving a situation that I need to get out of. I am setting out to blaze my own trail under the loving support of my favorite couple (you know who you are :) ) and it holds the possibility of things beyond what I could make happen on my own.

So two hours after my discharge, I say that I am going to live my life...and live it abundantly. I'm glad I failed at killing myself.

I'll be on here more later with more musings and details, as well as outcomes of things I have yet to face. Also, in two weeks, I plan to be in a different state...so things are going to be interesting.

Little Starts

Yesterday sucked. I would like to come up with a better adjective for it, but suck is the best word that comes to mind. I was in deep depression mode, forgot to take my meds, had to drive to my dad's to borrow yet more money from him for an unforeseen expense (which wasted more of the gasoline quickly diminishing in my car's gas tank), missed dinner, then ate a lot grocery store sushi which really wasn't good at all. There were a few more things that added to the suck of a day, but I think I will keep a bit of it to myself.

So today I wanted to be productive. I put on my old flowy skirt with the bleach stain, which makes me feel pretty while I clean, and decided to pick up the apartment. I started by sitting in the recliner for a couple hours. Every time I got up things just seemed to overwhelm me so I would sit back down. I felt depressed because the house is a pit, but I didn't have any motivation to do anything. Then my sister had a meltdown about the paper she had to hand in at school today and I almost completely gave up on doing anything.

It was at this moment that I had the most genius plan of the century! I decided to do one small job, then sit down in the chair again. So I went over my sister's paper while she was off taking a test, and thanks to the fact that writing is pretty much the only thing I am better than her at academically I was able to tell her how to make it longer. Then I sat down. My next small project was to change out the bag in the trash can, then I sat down. After this I picked up all the trash and dishes in the living room, then sat down. I could go on, but I'm getting sick of writing "then sat down."

By the end of the day I had picked up in the living room, vacuumed, put away clean dishes, clean dirty pans, and load up the dishwasher. For me, this is quite the productive day at home. And it made me feel a bit better; being in a clean room feels a lot happier than being in a cluttered dirty room. I'm thinking of starting on my room tomorrow. There's a lot to do in there, but I think I can use my genius idea in that area as well. I'm supposed to have a safe place in the house where I can go when things are in negative vibe mode, and my room isn't exactly up to par right now. I also should get out of the house at some point, but we'll see how that goes. I'm a bit more content staying at home when it's clean and welcoming. Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to have company soon.

Sex leads to dancing...

Whenever the topic of sex comes up in a conversation, I always think of the phrase "sex leads to dancing." It's meant to be a funny change up of something that had been said at the Christian college I attended, which was "dancing leads to sex." I don't really believe either statement, but it's a way to break the ice as we go into this subject.

First off, I am technically a virgin. I have never had sexual intercourse with a man. I've fooled around and regretted it, but that was 9 years ago and there's been nothing since. My virginity is something I have spent time being proud of, but now just gives me a lot to think about. Sex and I have had an up and down relationship.

When I was younger I was afraid of sex. First off, it didn't sound very fun when it was first explained to me. I was young so this was the normal reaction. However, by the age of 10, I hated sex. Sex broke up my parents and was therefore something very bad. I was informed that this was not the case all the time, just when the two people aren't married.

With that past, it was easy for me to jump on the "True Love Waits" bandwagon as a teenager. My dad bought me a promise ring, and I vowed that I would not have sex until I was married. This was not only done for my parents, but because it also seemed to be what God wanted me to do. I read in my bible about marriage, and it seemed that God was all for having sex with just one person.

It was easy for me to stick to this during most of my teens because there was no one that wanted to have sex with me and I wasn't really looking for it. Then I met a British guy over the internet, was in a relationship with him, and had oral sex with him when we were together. He had also wanted to save sex for marriage, but when tempted with it we caved quite easily. After breaking up and feeling guilty for what I did, he said that I had taken his virginity and made it OK for him to sleep with his next girlfriend. That guilt lasted for about two years and was extremely hard to get rid of.

After that relationship I was even more passionate about waiting until I was married to a man before we sexed each other up. It didn't matter if he was a virgin or not, just that we were "pure" until the exchanging of rings in front of friends and family. I promoted this to others, especially the girls in the youth group I helped to lead, and was not secretive about the experience I had in the past. It made it easier for other girls and women to talk with me about their own issues with sex, which I thought was pretty cool.

Yet now, the older I get, the more I wonder if it is worth it. I haven't been in a relationship with a man since I was 19, nor have I had any men interested in dating me. I sometimes wonder if this is due to my openness about waiting for marriage for sex; I can see where it would be kind of a turn off. My friends are sexually active, and I've even met Christians my age that love Jesus yet have had multiple sexual partners.

And it's not only that. I want to have sex. The fear of it I had when I was younger no longer remains. The women of my church that were open with me and willing to talk with me about sexual relationships helped me to get past that. I now feel that I am ready for a romantic relationship that involves physical affection. I'm not just ready, but I think about it a lot. When I say I want to have sex...I really mean it. A lot.

It all leads me to wonder if I should still be as worried about waiting for sex. I mean, is it worth it? Am I missing out on a wonderful life experience just because of some promise I made to God and my dad when I was 14? I don't know.

What I do know is that I still want to do what God wants me to - to follow His will. I think that at this age and period of my life, I'm willing to put my virginity on the back burner and pray that God guides me to where I need to be. I feel that God should be in every part of my life - even sex - so he should be in on the decision. I would hope that I find someone willing to discuss sex and pray about it. It's yet another unknown for the future, but it's one that is definitely on my mind a lot. I must say that I would really like to experience a man wanting to date me so I can at least get some kissing and snuggling...just to make the wait a bit easier.

The Storm

I am in a rare state of peace right now, which has brought with it some positive energy. I am writing this while lying on the floor in front of my open patio doors while a storm drives through outside. It’s probably not the best place to have an electronic device, but I wanted to write about what I am feeling right now.

The first thing I notice is the smell, which is pungent and earthy, and somehow reminds me of new beginnings. The thunder isn’t very loud, but almost like a low soothing growl – if a growl can be called soothing. The sound of the rain is for once drowning out the sound of the nearby interstate traffic, so I feel as if I am in my own little world. The lightning flashes to give glimpses of the sky while the wind brings the smells into the apartment. The trees outside seem to stretch out and accept the nourishing rain. With all of this I can close my eyes and feel at peace in the moment that is happening. I feel close to God.

I haven’t had these feelings for a while, so there’s also a sense of nostalgia to it all. I feel like anything is possible; all the negative is driven away with the wind and drowned in the rain. And even though I feel as if I am in my own little world, at the same time I feel connected.

The storm is moving off now, but the feelings are lingering behind, trailing as softly as the mist that rose from the heavy rains as they pelted the ground. And I realize there can be peace in a storm.

Isolating = No good

I had my first interview for some actual aid today. There is nothing more humbling than talking with a person about what you don't have, who has been paying your bills for you, and what is happening with the bills you can't afford to pay. I am going to call it practice for my upcoming interview for disability.

Having left the apartment today after being inside since Friday, I realize how much I was depending on day treatment to keep me stable. There's something about spending a long period of time away from people, and the everyday interactions that most take for granted; it puts you in a mental state that is hard to get out of. I cannot even begin to describe how much of nothing that I've been doing. In my defense, I was really sick and my fibromyalgia was in full swing, but how can a human being truly experience life in a messy apartment away from the world?

I sometimes think about Emily Dickenson. People think she is really cool and amazing, and her poems really are awesome, but she lived through letters and poetry while being a shut-in. I don't think I could do that. As much as my depression makes me want to hide away from the world around me, I want to be around people.

I have this desire in me to be around people paired with the inability to make it happen on the consistent basis that I want to. Such is life.

Right now, I think I just need to stay positive and try to get my bills paid. I can do this...and I'll keep writing as i go.