Everything I write lately has been depressing, and I don't want my blog to become just that, so here are a few more pleasant things:

• There was a unicorn puppet on Craig Ferguson tonight. I might like him more than Conan.
  
• My blog gets a lot of visits from small towns in Arkansas, like Warren, Thornton, New Edinburg, Harrell, etc. . .care to reveal yourself?
  
• I had a dream I was still in college but had forgotten to do a make-up/bonus assignment to rescue my grade. I woke up crying. The assignment? Draw a rhino.
  
  
• I had another dream strange women were trying to vacuum my parents sidewalk during the middle of the night so my dad called the police.
  
• The Fray's new album comes out in tomorrow. I may or may not already have it. . . (shhhh...)
  
• I found all my sleepingatlast mp3s that I thought were lost.
  
• At church last night someone mentioned Winter Jam and Toby Mac. It took a few minutes for everyone to understand that its a Christian concert/tour and they didn't mean Country music singer Toby Keith. Thats one of the little things I love about Epoch.
  
• Too many graham crackers will make your tongue raw. Consider yourself warned.
  
• My apartment isn't infested with anything normal like ants or roaches, just pennies and bobby pins. Seriously, I find them everywhere. Useful perhaps, but I'd still prefer koala bears.
  
• 
  

and the beat goes on...

One major phrase that needs to be eliminated from my internal monologue:

"What's wrong with you?"





Yesterday it hit me hard. I felt like all the junk with my wreck and bank account just too much, but I knew it shouldn't be. I should be able to handle it, right?

Blame it on the past, the chemicals, the depression, or even the rain...but I can't. My mom came up this afternoon and we ran errands, including getting a rental car. And by car, I mean this:

(Yeah, that's all they had.)

Unfortunately, my anxiety manifested itself in impatience and irrational intolerance, and since my primary interaction was with my mom, she got the brunt of it (although I did get my rental for $3-a-day less for arguing with them). She was going out of her way to help me, so she definitely didn't deserve anything but gratitude. But. . . I can't explain it. I have no excuses. After she left I laid down, sleeping off and on. Each time I woke I had more anxiety and bad feelings.



Its impossible to explain how I feel. There are no labels. . . Its a chaos of extremes battling inside me. They often contradict themselves, like a longing for solitude coupled with frightening loneliness.





My doctor added something new.
Here's hoping for high success and low side effects. . .

My honest story and why you should be real too

There were two distinct times today in which I was sure I was going to die.

#1...after a breakfast and mid morning snack of koolaid and year-old nutter butters, my stomach decided it wouldn't cooperate and I spent the next 30 minutes to and hour waiting to expel a peanut-buttery back cherry liquid mess. But, since I have such a mental block against throwing up I just had to wait it out.

#2...Calls to the insurance company and wrecker service had been made, so my business for the day was handled. But my body was still freaking out. Around 4pm I experienced my first all-out chest contracting, stomach knotting, anxiety attack. It felt like the muscles in my torso were being ripped apart. Clutching a heating pad and whimpering, I finally fell asleep and woke up in significantly less pain.


I've mentioned before that bad days scare me. Today I got a reminder of the not-so-distant past when I could do little more than lay in bed and cry. This reminder caused even more crying, and fear that the dark days were returning. Its all very discouraging. In these times my prayers are usually limited to one word pleas of "Help!" or "No..." or, most common, just "God..."

I don't share this for pity. I just want to be honest. This kind of stuff is a reality for more people than you realize. Admitting you've hit the bottom is hard, and often humiliating. But this is real life guys. Pain is real. Being honest and telling our stories and knowing that they matter is vital, even if they don't always receive the reaction we hope. Our job is to keep sharing, honestly, and breaking down misconceptions and proving that pride is detrimental to community.


Some words that encourage me a little:

The darkness wins too often. Broken things build themselves in silence. People feel alone. People give up. People talk about this stuff like it's math or they don't talk about it at all...
We're trying to fight for people with kindness, with words that move, with honesty and creativity. We're trying to push back at suicide with compassion, with hope. We're pointing to wisdom, pointing to medicine, saying that hope is real, help is real. We're fighting for our own stories, our own friends and families, our own broken hearts. We're saying there's nothing we can't talk about, nothing off-limits. We're kicking elephants out of living rooms, making room for life...
Don't give up. Don't give up on your story. Don't give up on the people you love. Hope is real. Love is real. It's all worth fighting for.

-jamie tworkowski
TWLOHA

To be honest, its hard for me to believe these words tonight. But I'm trying. I'm looking for the compassion and hope, but these are hard to see through the tears. If you pray, please include me and all the others searching for hope tonight.

only $1.40 one-way

I thought a lot about things as I sat in the 32 degree weather waiting on the bus. . .

Actually no, I didn't. I mostly thought about how cold I was. Which was really, really cold. I waited for nearly 20 minutes then rode an hour+ to get home around 4pm. I finally felt like my body temperature returned to normal about three and a half hours later.

Yeah, I'm a whimp. But I did what I needed to do. I wish I could give a humorous commentary on the whole day but anxiety has overshadowed my ability to be clever.

So, fye, a throwback tune that sums up the beginning of my public transportation adventure...

Kris Kross - I Missed The Bus (Official Music Video) - For more funny movies, click here

honest (albeit confusing) thoughts

Sometimes its hard not too see obstacles as punishment. Things will happen that leave us asking "What did I do to deserve this?" or "Why is this happening to me?"

I wrecked my car Saturday.

I guess accidents never happen at a good time, but en route to my best friend's wedding? Come on. . . I was due in Conway at 11 for pictures, but I crashed between Little Rock and Maumelle around 10:30. It went a little like a Nascar wreck. . . there was swerving, spinning, and crunching. The car stopped facing the wrong direction with both ends smashed.

First thoughts:
1. My toe hurts.
2. Deanna is going to kill me.
3. My parents are going to kill me.*

I wasn't hurt (other than a sore neck and monster bruise), but I honestly can't summon up much gratefulness for that. I'm stuck on regret and dread. Regret for my carelessness, dread for the overwhelming tasks ahead with insurance, repairing/replacing, and finding transportation in the meantime.

I made it to the wedding and was able to focus on that for the most part (except for the 15 minutes during the reception that I spent crying in the bathroom). My friends were great. Even people I didn't know had kind words for me. My parents? Well, they said they loved me and told me to check the bus schedules. You have salt? Sweet! Here's my open wound. . .

Trying to sleep last night was a joke. Lunesta can only help so much. I'd close my eyes and feel myself spinning again, replaying the whole scene in my mind. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to sleep.

My mind says this just happened, unrelated to any previous event or action. But my heart sees punishment, which leaves me asking, "For what?" I mentally defend myself, recounting my good deeds ("I really try to do the right thing, I work hard, I help my friends, I help homeless people [yes, I saw June again this week]. . . and so on).

I recognize that consequences are not the same as punishment. I know grace is real. But to be honest, what I think I know and what I feel are swimming around in my head, creating such chaos that I'm completely overwhelmed. In order to regain a little control I shut down, I distract myself so I don't have to deal.

I guess this is about more than a car. Its about feeling defeated, blow after blow. . . asking "why me? Why am I sick? Why don't the medicines work? Why. . . ?"

I want to recognize God's sovereignty and goodness, but the scars on my skin and in my heart beg for answers.

Other people's words make more sense than my ramblings:

"You Found Me" by The Fray

The Fray - You Found Me (official video)
by thefray

selected lyrics:

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why’d you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me...

Early morning, City breaks
I’ve been calling for years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
You never send me no letters
You got some kind of nerve, taking all I want

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Where were you, where were you?

Excuse me, I have bus schedules to study...




*Yes, I'm 24, and I still fear my parents wrath. Well, their disappointment more than anything.

Plates break.

We believe in hope and help, that these things are real and possible. You weren't meant to live alone with your pain. You weren't meant to stay in the broken place.

-Jamie Tworkowski

My first reaction to those words is agreement. I kinda get that warm fuzzy feeling after reading that, which is nice, but there's still a gap between these words and reality.

Healing is real, but so is responsibility.
Reality means that healing must occur simultaneously as life. So while the medicines are fighting it out in my body and I'm adjusting to side effects and swallowing pills, I've still got to pay rent. I've got to do something about the hospital bills and collection letters that keep coming. I've got to be a good friend, daughter, employee, and neighbor.

There are all these plates that I've got to keep spinning, all the while doing mental and emotional acrobatics, trying not to fall on my face again.

And, I'm just getting started. I've got to add more plates, I've got to pick it up in all the areas I've been slacking.

Tomorrow: interview. I'm a mess about this.

Martin Luther King, Jr...more than a street in Little Rock

"No individual can live alone, no nation can live alone, and anyone who feels that he can live alone is sleeping through a revolution. The world in which we live is geographically one. The challenge that we face today is to make it one in terms of brotherhood….
Through our scientific and technological genius, we have made of this world a neighborhood and yet we have not had the ethical commitment to make of it a brotherhood. But somehow, and in some way, we have got to do this. We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured."
(emphasis mine)

spasmodic

spas·mo·dic:
resembling a spasm or spasms; sudden but brief; sporadic


Provigil made this girl crazy...


Yeah, I've taken that.
Hmmm...







I feel like I've been working nonstop, so its nice to have a light week (sort of). It takes me a day and a half to recover from working a full week, then there's laundry to do, etc...



I'm considering setting up an etsy account to sell some of the cutsier things I've made, the most recent being this:

(Why is it so difficult for me to take quality pictures of this stuff?)
But I might be too lazy (translated: afraid nothing would sell).



I almost feel guilty about selling certain books on amazon. For instance, Tim LaHaye's Transforming Your Temperament. Its crap. It was a waste of money. I don't want it. But do I want to be responsible for putting something I know is junk in someone else's hands?




Can you rebel from yourself?
Withdrawl or avoidance? Laziness?



Apparently, "repositional paper adhesive" is craftese for "will not wash off skin." My fingers are sticking to the keyboard. And I didn't even mean to use this stuff.




February 3: New album by The Fray.

I mentioned The Fray to a girl at work and she hadn't heard of them. What?!? See, thats why I don't wanna have kids--quality artistry is replaced by SpongeBob and Pull-Ups.




...finally, a guilty pleasure:

a few thoughts to assure you I'm still alive

My back muscles feel like they could errupt into a frenzy of tightened spasming knots any second.


I'm getting a new neighbor. That'll take some getting used to.


My nephew is a little man.

Oh Baby Jax...





We sell a lot of charms/pendants. There are a lot of typical styles like crosses, hearts, lockets, etc. . . but they're beginning to get weirder.
Today I found this:


An angel, Saturn, cheese, scissors, a monkey, and asprin.

Yeah. Sure, why not...




Recent quotes that caught my eye...

"Lord, grant that I might not so much seek to be loved as to love." -St Francis of Assisi

"Ask not what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive... then go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." -Howard Thurman

"Assert your right to make a few mistakes. If people can't accept your imperfections, that's their fault." -Dr. David M. Burns

martha nails it

"When you're depressed, everyone has an opinion about what you should do. People seem to think that not only are you depressed, you are also stupid. . . People hear the word depression and figure that since they've felt down or blue at some point in their lives, they are experts, which is like assuming that because you've had a chest cold, you are now qualified to treat lung cancer. . .
In the old days I could shake it off and gently refuse it. . . All their helpful comments imply that if I'd only do ______, my problems would be solved. Like its all within my grasp, able to be managed and mastered, if only I would try harder, longer, better. As I nod my head in polite and pathetic appreciation for their input, I scream inside, "Shut up. Shut up. Unless you've been lost in this particular section of hell yourself, don't you dare try to give me directions."

-- Martha Manning, Undercurrents

There's a monster beside me
Twisting, stirring, mutilating
everything inside me.

Confusing everything until
my weapons of thought and action are turned
on myself.

why is it so difficult?

"Befriending myself seems to be about opening my heart as a homeless shelter for all the destituted and prostituted aspects of my being that I have been running from for years without even knowing that's what I have been doing."

-- Dawna Markova, I Will Not Die an Unlived Life