when I look at Jay. He’s just so sweet and nice and silly and a typical innocent yet annoying five year old.
I am afraid of when the world goes after him and try to ruin him.
Isn’t that what happens to all children?
I’m afraid, not that he will grow up, but that he will become broken at some point along the way.
In this world, that is almost inevitable.
Which means it’s time to have a serious talk with myself about putting on my big girl panties and figuring out what I want.
Time to make a priority list.
What I really mean is “I don’t want to imagine” but I, inevitably, will.
And when I imagine it, I will feel like it’s personal.
I will feel like I’m the one going through it.
I picture you going through whatever, assessing your personality and predicting what you will do in those situations (cry, stay silent, yell) and once I’ve decided what I think will happen, I know the opposite is more likely and in picturing that, in thinking of that somewhat ironic (and for some reason bitter) reality, I get emotional.
It’s a matter of seconds. That’s as much as it takes for me to put myself in your shoes.
But it can last for a long time. Years are my own personal best (or worst).
It’s usually not deliberate. I usually try to fight it.
I have a hard time not imagining things.
I have a hard time disassociating my feelings with others.
I have a hard time just not feeling.
So when I say “I can’t even imagine”
What I’m really doing is
lying,
crying,
and dying
inside.
And I can’t even imagine how much worse it is for you
When everything *you* are going through,
at this moment,
is not imagined.
When for you,
everything is real.
That, I truly,
cannot imagine.
Years and years in which I’ve been repetitively struggling with my way of thinking and easy drops into depression and constantly using the mantra, “Let it go, let it go, let it go.”
Never did it really cross my mind that trying to let it go was not the same as letting it be.
Letting it go implies forgetting. Letting it be implies acceptance. Accepting that things happened. Some things were said. Some things were at one present time, a reality.
I never really thought of The Beatles’ Let It Be as song that I could apply to myself. I always associated it with sadness and grief. And when it comes to the things I’ve been trying to let go of for years, I don’t really feel sadness.
I feel anger, bitterness, scorn.
These are things that make fools of us. These are things that are pretty much an iron wall across a path to acceptance and forgiveness.
The thought of switching from Let It Go to Let It Be actually pisses me off, to be honest. Something to do with my stubbornness. I don’t really want to forgive anyone, anything, myself. There’s something about letting go of all these bad feelings that feels…strangely enough, scary. I’ve had them for so long.
But I’m not very well gonna get over anything if I don’t, will I?
I need to accept things.
I don’t know how to accept things. I don’t know how to just let things be.
But I want to be able to do so more than I could possibly describe.
That ending was the most accurate thing to have ever presented itself to me, you don’t even know.
(Let me start off by saying that I started typing this before I found this song. And now it’s just the most perfect song for this post.)
I used to be so afraid of dealing with unhappy feelings with people. Everything negative that had to do with others was always held in. I dunno what my problem was, exactly, but it was suffocating. It’s scary how small and seemingly insignificant somethings can be but collected they become a time bomb. Just about every two months was my limit, I found out.
Then I became a crier. I don’t know when that happened exactly, but it did. I mean, I suppose I’ve always been a “sensitive” person, but my crying began bringing new founded anxiety attacks. Unpleasant. Self loathing inducing. I haven’t had one for a while, thank goodness.
I’m sure this is different for everyone. Everyone has their own levels of bullshit that they can tolerate. I suppose mine, on the grounds of bullshitting MYSELF have finally lowered themselves to where they should be. Holding stuff in always turns out bad for me.
Some people aren’t necessarily mean. Aren’t necessarily bitchy just to be a bitch. Some people just have no time or little reason to tolerate certain things. And I can not tolerate having an unsettling problem with something and then pretend that I don’t. Probably the most bullshit thing I’ve ever done: Lie to myself.
Done. Can’t. Won’t.
Brenna Vaughn. I like that chick. She’s got spunk.
Cheesy post is cheesy. Sorry, not sorry. At all. Cheese is ok.
I dreamt that I was scrolling through tumblr and saw something that had the same effect on me that it had on you. I looked for you all over the house and all I could feel was sadness. So much sadness. I couldn’t find you. I knew you were there somewhere. Nearby. Like, I could feel your presence somewhere. I went into the bathroom, the images of what I’d seen much stronger there and I could almost see you in the bathtub, all your clothes on, in a fetal position, crying. Or trying not to.
But you weren’t actually there. It was almost like an invisible print of what I thought I saw. A ghost permanently stuck there. I needed to find you to talk to you. To help you. All the while feeling your sadness stronger and stronger. Awake it kind of sounds ridiculous and far fetched, but the amount I felt like I was connecting with you was intense. I don’t think I found you. I think I settled with sitting on the edge of the bathtub and finally crying too with your ghost.
I knew deep down that things would be fine. And I said those things out loud. But that didn’t keep me from feeling your feels, dude. And the same thing can be said while I’m awake. While I do think things will eventually be ok, I feel you bro.
I woke up with the sweetest and slightly sad lullaby. Piano. A sweet sound that fit perfectly with the dream I thought I’d made it up. But it could have been this. Or at least, the beginning of this.
This is incredible.
Church,
I got to go to the Macklemore concert on Friday night. If you want to hear about how that went, ask me, seriously, I want to talk about it until I die. The whole thing was great; but the best part was when Macklemore sang “Same Love.” Augustana’s gym was filled to the ceiling with 5,000 people, mostly aged 18-25, and decked out in thrift store gear (American flag bro-tanks, neon Nikes, MC Hammer pants. My Cowboy boyfriend wore Cowboy boots…not ironically….). The arena was brimming with excitement and adrenaline during every song, but when he started to play “Same Love,” the place about collapsed. Why? While the song is popular everywhere, no one, maybe not even Macklemore, feels its true tension like we do in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. If you’re not familiar, here’s the song:
Stop–did you watch it? Watch it.
Before the song, Macklemore spoke really…
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Ok, so this happened and I really, truly, honest to glob do not know how it ended up this way but I realized as I was scrolling through my tumblr and ended up reading this picture
…that this was playing in the background
And for some reason these two things just made sense together. They just did.
that I believe in soul mates.
I hardly know where to pick it up since I just recalled it. The details are fuzzy. All I remember is spending time with someone. A field trip buddy, I believe I was realizing and remembering was actually my friend who was actually a very good friend who was actually a dear friend who was actually more than a friend who I had a super soft spot for at that moment. My relationship with this person [I don’t recall a face] felt like it was very ‘tender’.
We were at a lake. The view reminded me of the bridge/damn. At Percy Priest. But it was a field trip-thing. And the sun was setting. I looked to my friend/person/companion and said, “I think this lake is haunted. Last time I was here I was at the creepy part behind us. It looks like this parking lot but instead it’s like a barn. It was dark and I can remember spotting the shadow of a young girl running off.”
My friend looked creeped and our scenery changed. Suddenly I found myself in the ruins of the barn. It was dark and I didn’t question what we were doing there. The ceiling was still up but there were broken and fallen boards on the floor and I started exploring those. I’m not sure what I was looking for, but I think it was for the shadow of that little girl.
As I searched, something suddenly clicked in my head and I recalled seeing the shadow of the girl and the barn…and I realized I’d been in this building for a really long time.
A really, really, really, really long time. I couldn’t remember ever even walking in.
I looked around, taking it in…
I’d been here for years.
I’d never left.
I looked at my friend. I was frightened. I was mortified. I could feel myself about to crumble. He looked sad.
I was shaking and stuttering. “I…I…Am I…dead?”
He blinked slowly and I could detect the slightest nod.
I started running around and screaming. I was screaming as loud as I could and shaking. I was a ghost.
I freaked out around the barn for a little, but not for very long because as soon as the realization hit me, a feeling of calm also fell over me. My friend, who obviously deeply cared about me, had come back to find me. To help me realized that I was dead.
And I found immediate solace in this.
Because knowing now that I was already dead had freed me from the prison of the barn. I could finally walk out of the barn and begin haunting the world if I wanted to. I could begin the after life. I could see what it had in store for me.
We walked out of the barn slowly, taking baby steps. He was right by me the whole time. I don’t think he was a ghost. I think he was alive, but he could see me because of the deep/special relationship I suppose we’d had. This dream was ending, but I was fine in knowing that I wasn’t alive. Almost like my other dream where I was fine under water once I realized I could breathe. We took a few more steps and I knew he’d have to leave me soon, or I him. I couldn’t continue in the after life with a living person. That just wasn’t how it worked.
But for some reason I was ok.
At least now I knew that I’d been dead.
Words, Feelings, Words 