you see, i've been to hell and back so many times, I must admit you kind of bore me

I was hoping to have a happier post today, but no such luck. I still feel as I did when I wrote my last post. The tears keep welling up but refusing to free themselves, and me, in the process.

This weekend I did everything that I could to shoo them away. I drank too much, flirted too much...all of the many things that I used to to push them down.

Yet here it is Monday, and I still feel the same way (and hungover!). The good thing is that I recognize my futile attempts to mask my loneliness. That is some growth...a tiny seedling. It is making me laugh a little to see how easily I turn back to the things that I search for solace in. Unhealthy things that I was sure I was done with. As though the last 5 months has erased these tendencies and I am past them. Not so much. It is only when I think that do I get into trouble. My pride weakens me. I am grateful that I can see them for what they are, laugh at my foibles and try again to resist.

I am hopeful.

I will leave you with a picture of the bounty that I brought home (free!) after Brewfest. Too bad the thought of drinking one makes my pounding head pound ever harder...

Simple as it should be

I love this face. and I miss it.

He looks so happy here. Carefree and light. The boy I fell in love with. I almost don't remember him like this, but everyday I remember it a little more.

People ask me if I have any romance in my life. I was talking to a friend about this, and she said "You do have a love interest. He happens to have died, but he is still your love interest". Yes, he is.

I was always so worried about him and his health. Any little stomachache would have me in a tailspin, worrying his cancer was back, or his immune system was still messed up. My greatest fear was his death. I would cry just thinking about it. Now is is a reality in my life, in a way that I never would have imagined. How does life stray so far from the way we picture it?

Last night I spent time with dear friends, and we started talking about how much I have changed in 2 years. I am not sure that I would recognize that self walking down the street. I think of things that I did and things that I let happen and I am stunned. At the time of intense change, I couldn't imagine things being better. Yet here I am, thankful that those things have changed. I am sure that that story would have also been beautiful, but I would never have learned the things I learned and become the person that I am today. Someone who is more sure of herself than ever. Someone who won't be put aside and told she is not good enough. Someone who doesn't straighten her hair everyday and rides a bike in a skirt. Who prefers gardens over bars and beer over martinis.

I don't know what I was trying to say in this post. I started with a picture and here we are, miles from where I thought I would be. Seems about right.

Carrie sent me this saying that she thought fit me. I love it, and want to have it letterpressed and hung in my house, over my bed. It is this:

fluctuat nec mergitur
"Tossed by the waves, she does not sink."

then she said that she wished my tossing were more like surfing! I have always wanted to surf...

Weeds sprout through, dark green enough to be blue

Random thoughts on a sleepy night.
I should be at The Spots show. I have been looking forward to it for a long time. Yet, here I am, in my PJs in front of my computer. Many reasons for this. I am exhausted (today was the first 'this is what your job is going to look like after the downsizing', and it is busy). I also attended a wedding today! My dear friend Wesley was married to Deanna today on St. Patricks day, which we lovingly refer to as "Wesley's Valentines Day". It was lovely. Only about 25 of us and Wes, in his green shirt and tie, smiling like a Cheshire cat and Deanna giggling and looking beautiful. It was not as hard as I imagined a wedding would be, but it wasn't easy. I kept thinking things like "Oh, that is what I was planning" and "I want this".
The Spots were the band that I was planning on having play at my wedding. I didn't realize how that affected my decision not to go until now, as I sit here with tears streaming down my face. Not necessarily bad tears, just tears of loss. They are much less frequent, but still there. sigh. I plan to make it to their next show, as they are my favorite live show. Fantastic and fun and intimate, no matter how many people are in the room. They create a great vibe. It was probably just the vibe I need tonight! ;)

On another note, check out this blog: Spitball Army. CJ introduced me to it after he wrote a post about Bicycling. I am hooked. It is funny and smart and intelligent (those are two different things) and very sharp. Also quite informative. You can tell that he is interested in a lot and appreciates many things. Not to mention that he is now (along with BTM and JN and CJ) one of the people I want standing next to me as I buy a new cd. His love and knowledge of music is contagious and oozes out of most everything he writes. Go there. Now. Don't even finish this post...it is just as rambly as the last 50!

I have noticed that I have visitors from all over the country looking at the blog. That is strange to me. Do I know you? How do you find this? I guess the same way that I find random blogs...it is different when it is just my little blog.

I am in the midst of an apartment overhaul. This is all an attempt to create a sense of home here. I realized last week that this is the only apartment that I have ever had that did not have a boy attached to it somehow. This one is all me. I like that. No one to consider when decorating, no memories attached to painting, or hanging drapes. Only the memories of my community coming together to get me settled in my new home when nothing else was settled. Truly. Anna organized the kitchen, David and John hung pictures, Chris hung my drapes, CJ helped me decide if the color organized bookshelves were a good idea, Carrie helped me throw away spoons that needed to be tossed (long story). Everyone helped me with trucks and muscles with all 3 of my moves (3!). Now it is me and I am really starting to like it. i love that my kitchen has a back door, so everyday I cook with the door open and a neighborhood cat, Rascal, comes and sits on the patio and lounges in the sun. 2 dogs come by every day to sniff what is cookin. I have a compost pile and 2 garden that are open canvases for my imagination. This is home and I like it. Despite the circumstances that brought me here, I like it. One day I really think I will love it.

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.

I try to keep myself occupied, 'cause I know you're not coming home

Here is the truth that I have been hiding for a few weeks. I am not doing well. At all. If any of you were wondering why I have been so distant, that is why. Probably also why I have been blogging like crazy...so as not to have to really talk to anyone and distract myself.

I am a mess. Every night I cry, weep myself to sleep. At least an hour of this. I can't stop buying shit that I know won't make Scott come back. I hate my new apartment (don't get me wrong, it is very nice and lovely, but i resent it and everything it means). I invite people to come over, hoping that it will make me like it more. Nope, not at all. I pore through garden books and homey catalogs, thinking that maybe new curtain, or kitchen gadget or, hell, even a new bed will make me like it more. Even my couch is not comforting, which is surprising, for those of you who know me well. I have called in to work 3 days in 2 weeks.

I am tired. Physically and emotionally. I will soon also be broke. I wake up everyday and get ready to put on my happy face and 'do the day'. What I really want to do is make a sheet out of Scott's t-shirts and sleep in it. Maybe get up to ride my bike to a coffee shop, but mostly just sleep. The loneliness is oppressive and overwhelming. I thought that time was supposed to make things easier. It seems to be getting harder and harder every day.

I pretend to be hopeful, but I don't think I am. I don't want to take any more chances, I don't want to get hurt again. I am not sure that I can take it. My whole future just disappeared. What do I do now? Move to cali? Go to school? Stay here? Even the thought of going to church exhausts me b/c of the hurt there. I want somewhere to feel safe, and right now nowhere does.

When folks ask how I am going I can't seem to muster the courage to be honest. I shrug and say 'ok', or 'I just bought a bike!'. Somehow it is easier to post it here (I am screwed up, I know). I am lacking in the bravery area currently.

A good friend put on his Christmas Post "I hope for hope". That sentiment comes to mind literally every day since I read it. That is what I am hoping for as well...hope.

Only good tears from this picture. and big smiles.

Halloween 2007. Went as Britney and K-fed's best friends. Someone just sent me this picture and I like it. Sorry Mom and Abuelita for the beer and the belly! You should probably start praying for my soul now...

I miss him. We had so much fun. A lot. Dance parties, reading silly parts in books to each other, taking naps head to foot on my huge couch, planning the bakery/bookstore/coffee shop/diner we would open in Vermont (that we would ride our bikes to every day!), making fun of my seriously long toes...fun times. I miss that impish little smile he has in this picture.

It has seemed hard to really grieve, because not that many people in my life knew him well. All that most people know now are the ugly parts, but there was SO MUCH more to him than that. He was a great guy and really loved me. More than any man has loved me. He pursued me like crazy. It was nice and unexpected. I fell hard and fast for those eyes and that boy who wanted to know more, more,more about me. Did you know that he told his mother that he was going to marry me a year before we ever went on a date?! The first time we met he proposed. A year later, I said yes. Although he hurt me, I don't doubt for a second that he loved me madly. Drugs are powerful. However, they were only a small part of him and of our story and for that I am so thankful. I just recently found out that Scott died trying to get off of drugs. I think it was too hard and he was weary. I will never know.

I still don't understand his death and probably never will. I have to either say that God could not stop this from happening (and what kind of a God is that), or that God knew it and let it happen, which is hard to swallow. Really, really hard. I demanded that He get me through it and He is. Slowly and painfully I am trudging on. I am hopeful for my future and mourn my loss.

Suffice it to say, I miss him, my best friend and reading buddy.

Thanks everyone for hanging in there for this post. I am not sure why it is now, nearly 2 months later, that I felt the need to write this, but it seems to have lifted my burden a bit. So thanks.

If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with

Happy Stinkin' Valentines Day!

Today was surprisingly sad for me. Even though Scott and I probably would not have done anything particularly romantic, it still sucks. As I told a friend " Maybe he would have planned a big surprise...I'll never know. This may have been the time that he surprised me with a trip to Rome! ". Which is not true at all...I know him and he thinks it (VDay, not Rome) is as ridiculous as I do :)

It is funny, no matter how stupid the holiday is, it is always a bit depressing when you are alone. Sort of like New Years Eve...you know it is going to be a letdown but every year you get dressed up and hope. So far this year I have made myself some extra yummy coffee, wore my favorite red shirt and went thriftin' on my lunch break. Tonight I will have a lovely dinner with a new friend at my house. I am allowing myself to have little treats, like a waffle maker and extra chocolate after lunch. And maybe some truffles and champagne with dinner. This weekend I may go buy the bike I have not yet been able to bring myself to get.

I have been spending a lot of money lately, much more than usual. Ah, retail therapy. I don't really feel too badly about this. I am normally so careful and conscientious. Right now, little comforts are making a huge difference to me. Books that help me escape, candles to soften the blow of my one bedroom apartment, and delish cheeses to entice me to eat. I know that one day this will need to stop or slow down. Just not quite yet. At least I am not buying ironic Tshirts (for some reason, this makes my spending seem less frivolous).

I am officially rambling and justifying. Hug your friend, eat some chocolate, buy a new soy based candle, tell your friend or lady that she looks pretty. It's F-ing Valentines Day!!!!

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?

help needed

I have found comfort in the oddest things this past week. A friends house where I stayed immediatly following Scott's death, Books that are distracting but lovely, routines that I love, like Starbucks coffee every morning. However, the thing that has brought me the most comfort is this little rubber ducky hot water bottle. I have slept with it hugged close every night. Here is where I need help: It does not belong to me. But I want, no, need one. If anyone can help me find one, I would be so grateful. There is not a maker's name on it, so I am a bit stumped. I suppose I could search the internet, but I just don't want to. Thanks so much.

And thank you for your support, prayer and love. It has been invaluable.

To comforting duckies,

Elisa

indescribable

I have had a tragedy happen in my life, and am taking a break from blogging. Thank you to my friends for being my friends.

To a more restful 2008.

adieu