Too weak to fight, too strong to fall

Elisa v Depression, Battle Royale 2009

I can feel it trying to creep in and I am fighting with all of my might. I am having trouble with hope (yes, again). I seem to be at some sort of turning point, where I am coming to terms with loneliness, the kind that doesn't ever go away. It will be around no matter if I am married with 2.5 kids or single and living in a tiny garage apartment. The loneliness that comes from being a believer in a broken world, someone who longs for Heaven and occasionally tastes it.

This is not all bad, in fact it is probably good. The realization that no matter how much I scurry around and try to suck life out of things, it won't work. My life will have beauty, yes...but always a loneliness. It seems the sooner this is accepted, the sooner you can rest in it. Rest in loneliness.

I am growing in ways that I didn't think I would ever grow. In my relationships with men, my relationships with friends, relationships within my family. The growth is painful, but beautiful. It is right and good, but not easy. Simple but not easy.

Needless to say, I feel pretty weird these days. A little all over the place. I am constantly searching for redemption and finding it in the strangest places and situations. Hoping for more and trying to live in the realization that I may never get what I want. That sometimes boys will be morons and not know what they want until it is too late. That beauty sometimes looks like a sunny day on my bike and NOT waking up next to someone every morning. That the greatest thing in my life may not be raising children, but instead serving my community. Or it could be both.

Slowly realizing that in the end I cannot write my own story.

Adventure over safety

I was talking about my need to be more careful today when I was told to be more wise, not careful. After I gave him (Gordon, for those of you who know him!) a quizzical look, he responded by reading me this.

"Plus, you got the point of it all: You have chosen adventure over safety. This, in itself, is a rare gift" -Peter Block in the dedication of his book (which title now escapes me)

Lovely isn't it? I have never wanted to be careful. The word doesn't even feel like me. Wise, yes...careful, no.

Happy Epiphany. Now THAT is an adventure...Christ coming here to live amongst us sinners.

I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas Tree

I was re-reading last years Christmas posts. Wow, what a terrible time. And what a year it has been since then. On this very day a year ago, I found Scott’s car abandoned after a friend said she had seen it. I knew that day that I would never see him again, yet waited 4 more days to go and find him. Couldn’t kill the hope I guess.

Now I sit here a year later, missing him like crazy suddenly. I often think of him, but this weekend has been especially nostalgic. Christmas movies, advent music at church, wrapping gifts all remind me of what I have lost. I was planning on being married and being on the track to children in 2-4 years. Now I am not sure if I will ever have a family of my own. Accepting that is hard, but I am trying.

I don’t understand why Christmas is always a difficult time in my life. I can’t remember the last truly happy Christmas time I have had. Perhaps I expect too much with the media and all the Martha Stewart cookies and Lifetime movies and Romantic comedies taking over the world this time of the year? I can be having a perfectly normal (is that possible?) year and then Dec comes and WHAM! The Shit storm begins. Pardon my language.

This year I have an unknown illness. It has been wreaking havoc on my body for 3 months and peaked recently. In the past 2 weeks I have spent days in the ER, been put under for testing and had a surprise biopsy. Doing all of this has made me feel more alone. Spending hours in doctors offices and driving myself home on Morphine or calling friends to pick me up from the ER alone is lonely. I have a wonderful community who has been taking care of me and I am so grateful for that. But sometimes (most times) when I come home, I want someone to hug me and tell me that they will figure out what is doing on, and that I am pretty despite my fat lip and all the weight I have lost. Someone to cook me dinner and run to the pharmacy when I am too drugged up on pain killers to drive.

This post has a much darker feel than I intended. I started thinking about hope...and this is where I ended up.

I know that God hasn’t forgotten about me, but I wonder what this is about. And why it always seems to happen during Advent. It does make the waiting seem more real and the longing for Heaven more acute. I keep thinking that maybe, just maybe, that is the reason. To understand that Advent and Christmas are about waiting. Not about decorations, presents or parties. The Hot Chocolate and mistletoe are nice, but in the end not worth much. What is worth the wait is much more eternal.

Hopefully, one day all of this will be worth it. When there are no more tears or pain and I can say, with confidence, that it is true. True and Real.

I long for that day. Until then I will continue to wait and hope. I hope for hope.

Advent

I love Advent. While I don't particularly like the idea of waiting, for some reason at Advent it seems...different. Maybe Advent gives the waiting some reason.

I want to say more about this, but don't have the energy.

These are the comforts that be

Today it feels as though everything would be better if I weren't alone.

I know, I know...I am not alone, I have Jesus. Well, Jesus isn't hugging me or telling me I am pretty or making the bed seem not so huge (or the couch, whatev).

You don't know how much you need touch until you don't really have much of it. I really think it is crucial to survival. Sometimes I feel like I don't exist if I haven't had anyone touch me in a while. I am not talking sexual touch here, folks. Forget the deep kisses, hands on face sort of thing (although that is wonderful). I mean the simple hand on your back, tight hug or quick touch of the arm while talking. Anything to make you feel like a person who matters.

They say that babies who are not touched after birth wither. I believe it. we were made for touch.

Listen when all of this around us'll fall over, I tell you what we're gonna do

Ok, this is going to be a rant. I am SO MAD! Please excuse the rampant use of ‘adult words’.
Is God fucking with me? Seriously. Today I finally got my car back from a week long service visit. It is still busted. As I was realizing this on the way to drop off the car I borrowed, I was pulled over. Now I am out the money for the crap job on my car, AND a ticket. Oh and did I mention…my license is suspended for a ticket that I paid over the phone but did not go through. So now I have to pay exhorbitant fees for that in addition to the ticket (also bogus…I did NOT coast through the stop sign…at least he didn’t arrest me for the suspended license) in addition to the car repairs that still need to be done.

I can handle the big stuff. But this little shit is killing me. Car stuff, termites, moving, leaky toilets, job chaos…It feels so overwhelming. I am supposed to trust God? WHAT? Show up and I will. Throw me an effing bone here. I am not asking for an entire life change…how about a month where I can feel some rest? A fucking respite.

If my belief was in my hands, I would be out of the game. I am sick of this, and so tired.

I am glad it is sunny out, even though I have no windows to see it with! I can feel
it.

UPDATE: came home to Termite Carpeting. Then, an hour later the toilet started overflowing. A trip to Western later and still overflowing...called the landlord and still waiting for the 'emergency line' to call us back at Midnight.
I may or may not have gone #1 outside...I have a secluded backyard area with a huge bush blocking things...
Pictures below.




The good thing is that my sister is with me, so we laughed SO hard. Literally crying. I am so thankful she was here to help me deal with things and laugh at ourselves. I love you Ash!!

Nothings going to stop me but Divine Intervention

It feels like every time I try to do something slightly dangerous, or at least unhealthy for me, God steps in and says "Nope, not ready to take any chances yet". Like He has the entire world saving me from myself.

It is good. Yet unnerving.

I'll just find a comfy spot and i'll wait it out

I have been looking through my blogs from the last 2 months and am surprised that a) it has been 2 months since Scott's death and b) that I haven't fallen apart sooner.

It seems like so much shorter, yet I almost can't remember what life was like before this. I don't want it to define me, and I don't think that it will, but it is woven into the fabric of who I am now, and can't be taken out.

I am starting to see glimpses of who I am, who I will be and who I used to be. I think that the scars are starting to slowly show themselves. I think that I am going to be slower and quieter. Less edgy, more safe. Take the edge off of my sharpness. Gosh, even writing this, I realize that how I feel and act changes day to day. One day I am so angry at God and at Scott. The next day I am weeping and crying out and can't boil water without crying. Somedays, I will go half the morning and then realize/remember what happened. It doesn't even feel like my life is my life right now. I am surviving and trying to make sense out of it. Can sense be made of it? Is it a futile endeavor?
I know that one day my story will flesh out and I will see this, as we all will see the pain and hurt and realize the good. Until then, I am working on how to live my day to day life. How to trust and hope. How to help my friends trust and hope as well. I am not the only one with crap going on, and I see it in my community and it breaks my heart. How do we all do it? My stuff seems like too much to carry...how can I help you carry yours? How do I speak the Truth to you when I am not sure that I even believe it? Tell you to hope when mine feels dried out? It is hard and it is broken. In the end I guess I just need to pray for God to help my unbelief. Help me hope, help me pray. Help me care for those in my life. Help me. I am utterly incapable.

So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out tryin' to live

I was reading a book called "Healing after Loss', which is not something I would normally read, but nothing is normal now...so I thought what the heck.
I digress.

Anyway,at the end of the 1st day, the prayer said in it "May I honor-and trust-the processes of grief and healing,..."

That hit me. hard. That is what I need, that is what God is calling me to. Trust. He has me here, right now, in all of my messiness for a reason. I have no earthly idea what that reason is, but I need to trust it. I know, deep down, that all of this will someday make sense in my larger story. Even the things that I am clinging to and overdoing (gardening, cooking, reading) are good and life-giving and closer to who I really am than many of the things I have clung to in the past (fashion, alcohol, approval from men). I can feel change in me, slow and painful, but it is good and it feels right. These sorrowful nights are making me long for heaven and lean on him more. Feel my aloneness as opposed to running from it and grasping to fill it. It sucks, but I have to trust that it is good. I think that may be the hardest part of being a Christian, at least for me. But isn't that what it is all about? Bearing your cross and trusting that you are bearing it for a reason, even when that reason seems so far away and what you want to do more than anything is shrug it off and walk away? Yet you keep struggling, even though all reason says to run like hell, because you hope that one day it will be lifted. Faith and hope...they are so connected. Hope is the thing that keeps my faith alive and faith is the hope that God will show up again, just like he has before. That everything I believe is true and there will be a day when there are no tears.

My entire existence feels like repentance right now. As though all of the changes I am making and all of the new, safe habits I am cultivating are saying "ok, I will chose to wait on beauty, I will not choose chaos." I said to Gordon (side note: Gordon Bals is the best counselor I know and he and his partners have a beautiful ministry. You can find out more about it here.), "Normal life feels too hard", and that was a big revelation to me. Abnormal, chaotic life has always been my way, what I am used to, how I deal. Trying on safety feels strange, but good. Honest. Repentant. Saying to God "I don't know what the hell I am doing, but I know that I am going to try my hardest to trust you and wait on you, instead of relying on the the things I am used to".

Someone commented on this post that we need to fight back against the pain and the sorrow so as not to be held captive by it (it is said so much more eloquently there so check it out). What I thought was 'YES'. I think that for me that looks like leaning into beauty more, leaning into the things that are life-giving, not succumbing to chaos and falsities. Not listening to lies, such as "you better take what bits of beauty you can find, because nothing more is coming your way" or "you attract chaos, you will never escape it". those are lies. I don't know what God has in store for me, but this dark time is part of it and I want, no, need to trust that. It is going to be hard and everyday will be a battle, but I want to fight it.

And if there is anything I can say I am, it is a fighter.

February 3, 2008

Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, or driving, even sitting listening to live music, I will be overwhelmed by a sadness so deep and sudden that is as though someone has knocked the breath out of me. I look around, thinking that someone could have seen it coming and warned me. Alas, it is just me and my sadness. I want to scream "How can you just be sitting there as if nothing just happened?!" It is in those moments that I feel profoundly alone.

That is the thing with pain. We can help each other carry it and share it, but no one can truly understand our pain. No one can really understand why seeing my halloween mugs makes break me down and cry everytime. Or that, at least once a week, I see a truck that looks like Scott's and I honk and wave, before realizing that he is not in that truck and I will never again see him driving.

It is in our pain that we are most alone here. We can't count on anyone to be able to speak into it, into our broken hearts. There's only one person who can do that. When I am feeling my weakest and most alone, I really feel Jesus saying "I know, this is hard and it is so broken. I am weeping with you". And I really believe that he is. As much as I yell and sob to him, demanding to know why, why this happened, I deep down know that he is as sad as I am. It turns it from an overwhelming 'I can't breath' sadness to a peaceful sadness that I know is temporary and understood. Almost beautiful.

Thank God for that.

Who am I now?

Right now, I am trying to figure out how to incorporate this loss and pain into my life. Now that the newness is over, how do I live my life? When you get a cut it heals back, but often it heals back a little bit differently than how it once was.

How I am going to heal back? What are the scars going to look like? Will the pain always be here, but changed? Everything feels very unsure to me. As though I am in a new town and everything looks vaguely familiar, but I am not exactly certain of where anything is or how to get anywhere. Familiar yet strange and changed.

At least I am not alone. No one here can fully understand me, but I know that I am not alone. My Father understands me, and that is what I clinging to right now. With all of my might. During the nights when I toss and turn and weep and wonder...He is what I cling to. Even when I lamenting and moaning and pleading with Him to help me understand...He is what I cling to.

What else is there to cling to?

hope, sorrow, Jesus, etc

I have been thinking a lot about Faith. How everyone's is so different. I tend to assume that mine is the 'right' way, and that everyone else is pretending. That my tendency to lament and sorrow is realistic and folks who say that they thank God for challenges are lying. Maybe that's not so. They could sorrow better than me. Gasp! Sorrow better than ME, I don't think so.
We each have a different relationship with God. Mine may be one of lamenting and sorrowing deeply. Yours may be one of rejoicing in your sorrows. Who am I to question your faith?
This week Scott and I had a great discussion about Joel Osteen. I am in the camp of assuming that Joel is a major Tool. (I am not pretending that the fact that Joel is not 'hip' is not part of it). That his 'happy church' is a fraud, and everyone in there is mad at God but afraid to say so. I still think that there are people like that, but I think that there are people like that in my little church as well. I happen to resonate more with a church that wears their brokenness on their sleeve. To some people, this is taking the easy way out. Is it? Who am I to say? For some, being joyful takes more faith, for others sitting in their pain does. I can't project my story to anyone else, no matter how hard I try.
At the end of the day, my relationship with Jesus is like no other. It is personal, and for me. No one else may understand it, but it is mine and His. That is all that matters to me. Well, most of the time it is. Sometimes I want so badly to connect with someone about this that I search vainly for someone, anyone who can relate. Sigh. Thanks for sticking with me in this.

regret and slow change

This morning i woke up full of shame and regret. i will spare you the details, but it is something i have been struggling with. (For the kiddies out there, it is not what you are probably thinking). I thought I had conquered it. I was overconfident and wrong. So, I backslid. And all day I was full of self loathing. I wanted to be different. I wanted to have beaten this particular demon. What I am learning is that change is slow. ridiculously slow sometimes. It feels like just as I think I am doing well...BAM! That's when I backslide. I am so frustrated with this. I know that this is my pride, but I don't care. I want to be different. Better. More in control. of everything, including my sanctification. I want God to leave me alone about certain things. The problem is that god is much more concerned with my journey than my comfort. This is becoming more clear by the day. Because of this cheap women project I am involved in, I cannot buy my way out of my pain. It totally sucks. So instead I am sitting in it, facing my demons. Let me tell you, they are ugly and ruthless. My flesh is fighting against me head on. I am weary and scarred from battle. BUT, I am not giving up on myself, or Jesus in me. today, after a few hours of nauseating self loathing, I realized that actually there was growth. It was the same mistake, but different. I had in fact made baby steps. So I celebrated that, and told Satan to take a hike.
That's all. I don't really know how to wrap this blog up nice and neat, so I just bid you adieu.

ordinary things

So, I made my first Tote Bag! I love it. it was very fun.

that's all about that.

I am (along with many others) struggling with God's love. I just don't get it. Or I guess that I just want God to love me how I want to be loved. I don't want to be sanctified this way. Can't I pick my cross to bear? One that doesn't feel so heavy? I see all these wonderful people around me struggling to carry theirs and I just want to cry. Often I feel that I can't help them carry theirs because mine is weighing me down too much. I want to throw it aside and help people i love as they struggle under the weight of their burdens. It seems to me that THAT is what our time here is for...to help each other carry our crosses and encourage each other along the way.
I think I am looking for hope, and a reason for pain. Because it doesn't make sense to me. I can look back and see where pain has helped me, but...I don't know, can't God just do it? I realize that I sound like a petulant child, but I am tired of pretending like I always believe that pain is good. I am actually sick of it. I want a break. I want my friends to get a break. It is hard for me to enjoy beauty because I am scared of what is next. sigh. Maybe someday I will be able to trust God fully, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. And I certainly don't see me making it happen. He is going to have to show up and make it so. I am not capable.

How I am like Dave Eggers (or the story of this week)

So, this week has been pretty rough. Have not written in a while, b/c I did not even know where to start. So, I am going to start at the best place to start; the beginning.
My family is a wreck. Seriously, like Jerry Springer. I am still not sure when it got this bad. I guess it started after I was born and my father began his string of adultery and drug use. However, no one knew it was bad until 17 years later when he was caught and my mom kicked him out the day after Christmas. Merry Christmas kids! ANYWAY, it has been a sad, downward spiral since then. oh yes, and he has MS and is bipolar. (as a side note, it is ridiculously cathartic to write all of this.) Fast forward 10 years. My mother is remarried and moving to Milwaukee and taking my little sister. 1 month later, my stepfather threatens Ash, so she quickly has to move in with my Dad. 3 weeks later, my stepfather beats up my mom. She decides that this is ok, and takes him back, officially alienating Ashley from her life. Fast forward until now. Ashley has no respect for my dad, and is angry and acting out (duh). Runs away to her best friend/boyfriends house. What makes me so sad about this is that no one can see that Ashley is angry at my parents for effectivly abandoning her. All anyone can talk about is what a terrible person she is. I can see now that if they admit that she is angry and confused they have to admit that they abandoned her. It is easier for them to blame it on their emotionally wrecked 17 year old daughter. It is a very lonely place realizing that no one in your family sees what you see, and are angry with you for seeing it. My other sister will not talk to me (we had just patched up a lifelong bad relationship). My Dad only talks to me to be manipulative. My mother...well, I don't know what the hell she is doing, but she refuses to acknowledge any feelings at all.
back to the story: I drove to get Ashley, praying the whole time that God would help me figure out what to do. I decided that I would invite Ashley to live with me. We spent 2 days looking for apartments in Hoover (gross!), and going to her old school to enroll her, etc. Each thing we did reminded me that we are alone in this. I have no idea how to parent. I did it because Ashley needs to see that someone in our family is willing to make sacrifices for her. That she can fuck up and will still be loved. Well, last night, Ashley decided that she would rather go back and live with her boyfriend. I have to let her go, my heart breaking the whole time. She is moving into a 2 bedroom house with 7 people, including her boyfriend and her best friend and her best friends baby. Also 9 dogs. 1 bathroom. Why would she choose this over a stable place to live with me? I am hurt and confused. And, I confess, a little glad that I do not have to turn my life upside down, which I feel terrible for feeling.
This all feels like too much for one person to handle. It is reminding me of my lonliness. Making my yearn for Heaven. Forcing me to depend on God. I know that God has chosen me to suffer and that is a good thing, a gift. But, most of the time, I wish he would leave me the hell alone and choose someone else. I am weary. Overwhelmed. I can say this, occasionally, in the moments before I drift off to sleep, I feel so close to Him that it is all worth it.

Diary Entry

Dear God,
I am mad at you. You know why.

Elisa