He is good (even when I'm sad)

Last week in Texas I was told I have a "pretty severe case of treatment resistant depression." On one hand, these words only confirmed what I've assumed for awhile now, but on the other hand, to have my suspicions confirmed was a bit like being trapped underwater by a raft or boat.

My head was screaming "NO, I'm too young for this! I'm only 24 and already running out of options. . . "
At the same time, I needed to hear the truth in order to understand what God was teaching me.

In the past two years, when I've thought about chasing my dreams, I've always held back. I needed to wait "until I'm better" I'd tell myself. This perspective has saturated my thinking about so much while I've held out for this idealistic reality.

But This Is My Life.
And it probably will be until I die. God is big, He is bigger than depression and bigger than what the doctors can do for me, but this is what He has for me. I can't put off living until a day of healing that will probably never come. But at the same time, this life has limits now. Limits like always needing insurance, having to take significant time out of my life to see counselors and doctors, and those oh so wonderful side effects with every medicine that are more than just likely for me.

So no, I will probably never finish that journeyman application, or move to Paris to share Jesus and get a dog, and I'm going to have to find a guy who can handle tears and bad days for no reason. . . but God is bigger than my dreams and plans. Whatever he has (or has not) for me is good, because He is good.

10 days...

...can change a lot.

But not as much as you'd think perhaps.

One change is my motivation to blog...sleep is way more inticing.

(I'll be home for Christmas...and by Christmas I mean tomorrow...)

my "headache"

Have you ever had a headache for like four days* and thought you were going to go crazy? But after awhile you go numb sort of. The pain is still there, it just becomes part of your life. You keep going, but it affects you more than you realize. At first you think it'll go away with time, ibuprofen, etc, but after awhile you find yourself focusing more on managing the pain, rather than curing the headache.

To follow the analogy, let's say I've had a headache for seven years, which turned into a migraine for the past eight months. Despite my best efforts to manage it (hope for a cure is long gone), my life has become more about the headache and less about living.

It is no longer a question of "if" but "when" things will reach a critical mass if they continue in this pattern, so my best option is to stop now and focus on healing on my terms, rather than just reacting to the most recent crisis.

Ibuprofen is great, but sometimes you need to ask why this headache is what it is and examine the path things have taken. A cycle will only stop when you identify what is perpetuating the repetition and come up with an alternate course of action.

My plan at this point is far from finalized, but I have a peace about the decision. I'm terrified because I know true healing means dealing with wounds that I've kept covered for years, but that pain is a necessary part of the healing that will turn this back into a just a little headache, or maybe even make it disappear for good.









*I really hope no one can relate to a 4-day headache, but just go with the idea, ok?

Deodorant wouldn't be a bad idea either according to FOX...

I usually scan through my junk mail folder to make sure nothing important got stuck in there, which, I realize, kinda defeats the purpose. But today this subject caught my eye:






No, not the crapless craps one...the CNN alert. With the drama going on in Arkansas right now I figured it might be important...When I opened it I found this:














Yes, thats right. CNN says take a bath.

overboard

Overboard, by Matthew

Monsters on the shore are getting nearer
Smoke and scream and fire
I don't remember when infection came into the healer
Voices in my head say it's now or never

Overboard. . . let me fall from the death and slumber
Just pretend you're sailing, safely. . . throw me overboard

Zombie heads on cold, plastic shoulders
Faces only hide the brooding fear

Overboard. . . let me fall. . . to the waters. . . catch me
Come into me. . . floating, still. . . and safer, overboard

We're all so far away
We lie beneath the stars
No one ever told you. . . you're free

Overboard. . . let me fall. . . from the death and slumber. . .
Just pretend you're sailing safely. . .
Throw me overboard...
Let me fall. . . to the waters. . .
Catch me. . . come into me. . .
Floating, still. . . and safer. . .

Overboard

In the middle of my chaos...

I want someone to know that when I listen to Yo-Yo Ma really loudly that I'm trying to shut out the world because I'm frustrated by everything.

I want someone to realize that I'm serious when I say I had a breakdown.

I want someone to know that the "dark thoughts" I refer to include the scary 's' word, and that they come at least once a day.

I want someone to understand that when I say I can't handle life, I'm really struggling to keep my head above water.

I want someone to know that I didn't spend all day in bed because I'm lazy, but because I'm depressed and hiding from life.

I want someone who doesn't expect me to be sad all the time just because I'm depressed, and who doesn't dismiss the depression just because they don't see it.

I want someone to take me seriously, because when you don't I start to question myself and am bombarded by guilt and lies.

I want someone to make it make sense, because I'm confused and terrified right now.

I'll Share My Jello...

Dear Lunesta,

Do you want to be friends?

__ yes __ no



Your potential BFF,

Darcie

A sign that I'm creative, not strange...or, maybe both...

Much of the time I live in fantasy, not really interacting with the reality around me. . .


Fantasy Darcie is never awkward.

She knows how to make conversation and be witty, without overwhelming people with too much information.

Fantasy Darcie is coordinated, and better yet, in shape. She weighs 125ish, and never has trouble finding clothes to fit.

Fantasy Darcie has a job that develops her talents and passions while providing her with enough income to cover bills and have fun. She never has to borrow money from her parents.

Fantasy Darcie is well liked, and most importantly, she likes herself.

Fantasy Darcie never has never suffered from a crisis of faith and is consistently finding ways to share love and truth with others.

Fantasy is great, until reality shatters the mystic world I have carefully constructed in my mind, like a wrecking ball meant for my total destruction. Then I'm forced to face a true reflection of myself. . . the clumsy, awkward, overweight, self-conscious doubter in a meaningless job. . . and I don't like what I see.





***At least I'm not the only crazy one.

June, again.

I met June ("just like the month") in January. She was cold and her ankle was hurt. After a stop by Taco Bell we drove to her friend's place, but no one was home. We ended up parting ways at an old gas station in a sketchy area. I gave her the sleeping bag I kept in my trunk, but I'm sure it couldn't keep out all the cold that night. I worried about June. She told me her daughter had died the previous year and it really messed her up, but she was trying to do good and pray to God.

A few months later my friend called and said he, too, had met June. He ran into her on the other side of town, where she had been staying with her mother she said. She asked him for a ride to her job at a grocery store closer to my neighborhood. I rejoiced for June.

Tonight, a group of us were gathered outside Epoch's new location, and I ran into June again. She needed help getting a place to stay and some clothes to wear to work (she was part time at the grocery store still). It takes much longer to walk to my apartment from there than it does to ride I discovered, but we walked back together. I gave her some clothes and toiletries and a bag to carry them in, then dropped her off at a kind of halfway house near her work. We talked a bit before I dropped her off; she said her mother was out of town. She's hoping to start work at Sonic on the 18th when the kids go back to school. She said she's be clean for a month, and told me how horrible going through withdrawal was. I told her I had been praying for her since we met in January, and I would keep praying for her if she'd pray for me too. We talked about how easy it was to believe Satan's lies and how important reading the Bible is. I prayed for her before she got out of the car, and for myself too, that we'd be strong against the lies and remember the truth about God's love.

On my way home I was sad, then I was mad. I was sad because she'd seemed like she'd gotten things together when my friend met her. I was mad that I couldn't make everything ok. I asked God why...why June, why she couldn't be given a break.

But tonight isn't the time to think about all that. Tonight is the time to see a need and try to meet it. Some people will criticize me for bringing her to my apartment, others with say I shouldn't have driven her anywhere...Because I am imperfect, my help will be imperfect, but I pray that the more I seek God, the more clearly I will see the right ways to do these things. I can't wait until I have all the answers or a fail-proof 3 step plan though, because the needs are here now.

Somebody's Baby
Jon Foreman

She yells, 'if you were homeless,
Sure as hell you'd be drunk
Or high or trying to get there
Or begging for junk
When people don't want you
They just throw you money for beer'

Her name was November
She went by Autumn or Fall
It was seven long years past
Since the Autumn when all
Of her nightmares grew fingers
And all of her dreams grew a tear

She's somebody's baby
Somebody's baby girl
She's somebody's baby
Somebody's baby girl
And she's somebody's baby still

She screams, 'well, if you never
Gone it alone
Well then go ahead, you better
Throw the first stone
You got one lonely stoner
Waiting to bring to her knees'

She dreams about heaven
Remembering hell
As a nightmare she visits
And knows all too well
Every now and again when she's sober
She brushes her teeth

Today was her birthday
Strangely enough
When the cops found her body
At the foot of the bluffs
This morning's anonymous call
Tipped off the police

They got her ID
From her dental remains
The same fillings intact
The same nicotine stains
The birth and the death were both over
With no one to grieve

Stolen Goods.

So after feeling crummy all day at work I took a nice 2 hour nap. When I woke up I grabbed a pony and my glasses and walked stumbled to the fridge only to find...

I'd been robbed.


There were NO Dr Pepper to be found.
I whimpered and wondered who could have done such a thing...then I remembered that I drank them all.





anti-climatic much?