Two less

Two less people in the world.
Two less people who smiled, laughed, cared...

Two people who lost the battle this weekend.

My heart is broken, my mind is a mess. I don't know how to stop this. Could I have stopped these two?


Reach out. Reach inside yourself and find your strength. Sometimes strength is just eating, or moving from the bed to the couch. Take care of yourself and to hell with other people. Good for the marathon runners, business owners, mothers and fathers...but if you woke up today you are winning.

Perfect weather for it...

I wrote this as though I hadn't heard the results. I think it would be just as relevant if things had gone another way...


It's time to build a campfire hold hands, and sing a little kumbaya.

If your candidate won, celebrate. Be grateful. But be gracious.
To continue to argue your point or insult the other candidate/party is hurting our nation by keeping us divided and angry.
It's time to heal, to cooperate, to be kind.

Parents, you are setting an example for your children. The jokes, the mocking, the memes...we are saying it's ok to be a bully or to laugh at jokes at someone else's expense. I am not innocent in this.

Christians, we should be the first to act with grace and humility, the first to love our enemies. This is the time to let your words and actions be your witness.

Out of the Darkness

Today I walked with friends (!!!) for the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walk.

I've participated before, in 2008 with my mom and friend Melissa, and last year...solo.

I wrote the same last year. I'll keep writing it as long as I'm here.

 This is from the 2008 memory wall, this patch means a lot to me. I'd love to high-five the person who wrote it.

I got to write love on my friends' arms today.

truth isn't always funny

Recently I saw a photo of a friend dressed up as a homeless person for Halloween.
My response:

I'm a little disturbed at your recent halloween costume, but it made me think, maybe you haven't had true contact with a struggling homeless or poverty stricken person. I believe you have a good heart and want to love as Jesus loved, so I challenge you to join me in serving any Wednesday evening you choose. My church serves 100+ every week and strives to build relationships, rather than just playing the hand-out game.
Poverty isn't funny. Homelessness isn't funny. There are folks that will play you and beg the shirt off your back, but should we stop serving? I certainly don't think so. I have a friend on the street that would take my underwear if I let her, but she still cares about me. Every time I pick her up she asks about my depression and my family. That's more than most Christian "friends" I know. 

Survivors

People who have cancer but fight for remission are called survivors.

People who have a loved one commit suicide are also called survivors.

What about those who have fought the darkness and haven't ended it? What do we call them?
Fighters? Lucky? Dead Men Walking?

I will never, EVER blame someone for killing themselves. I don't admire them, but I get it.
Somehow I'm still here.

Last year I went to the ASFP's Out of the Darkness Walk. At this one table they had markers and paper asking, "Why are you walking?"
     I wrote "because I'm still here."

The tension between morning, understand, and fighting is strong.

I don't have answers.

Me too.

ASBO Jesus

Suppose...

As much as I'd love to be labelled as a "creative," what I'd really love is to be a "facilitator."

I am the queen of unfinished projects.  Great ideas that reach various stages of fruition but never reach that point of completion.  I'm not so vain that I think this is a problem only I have.  I'm sure there are so many other with closets, portfolios, and hard drives full of works-in-progress.

My initial thought was "Someday, when I run a gallery and frame shop I'll have specific shows featuring unfinished work.  But what if we as a community of artists gathered to hold some sort of unfinished project collective. . . A place to share ideas and inspire each other. . . Musicians, painters, knitters, poets, etc. . . All media, all stages welcome.

How can I make this happen?
Or am I the only kook with more half finished canvases than shoes?

Naked Ladies! [...but not that kind...]

If I ever get married I want these everywhere...

And more snow...

midnight memory

It's been a year and a half since that day you left my apartment crying.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for what you saw, and I'm sorry for how it scared you.  I'm sorry I couldn't explain it. . . I still can't.

I wish I had followed you.  I wish you hadn't left.  I wish I knew then that it wasn't because you didn't care.  I wish I'd known sooner than you called both my mother and sister afterward because you were so worried.  I wish you'd called me too.  I wish I remembered exactly what happened that day.

I hope you know how much I love you and how important you are to me.  There has been so much good in my life because of you.  Time passes and people change, now we hardly talk, but that's ok.  I am incredibly lucky to have had you in my life.

light vs. dark . . . sound vs. silence

I live in a very not quiet neighborhood.  I am, for the most part, coming to terms with that.  When the weather permits I leave my windows open, but this can make falling asleep difficult.

There are some noises that make you hope that driver is wearing a seatbelt.

There are some noises that make you sigh and curse the creation of the subwoofer.

There are other noises, however, that make you run to the window, call 911, and pray. . .


I was in bed but not yet asleep when I heard a scream.  I assumed it was a crazy neighbor, but something made me keep listening.  When I heard the screams again I grabbed my phone and tried to see if I could tell where or who they were coming from.  Everything looked still.

 Maybe I just watch too many crime shows, but it sounded like a woman, crying and screaming, "Somebody help me, please!"

I told the 9-1-1 operator what I'd heard and she promised to send someone to check the area, but I couldn't just get back in bed.  I got dressed, grabbed my keys, stun gun, and a screwdriver (you never know) and crept out as quietly as I could.

 After walking the length of the alley in the direction I'd heard the noise, I crossed to the end of the block and saw two cops looking at a house across the street.  I told them what I'd heard and headed back to my apartment.  As I walked I prayed, for the life and soul of that woman, for her comfort and rescue--whatever the situation might be.

Now, a hour later, my heart may be beating normally again, but its still a little broken.

Evil is like a shadow -
it has no real substance of its own, it is simply a lack of light.
You cannot cause a shadow to disappear by trying to fight it,
stamp on it, by railing against it,
or any other form of emotional or physical resistance.
In order to cause a shadow to disappear,
you must shine light on it.-Shakti Gawain

confession

There aren't many things I'm good at.  Mostly, I'm not good at typical girly things, like cooking or shopping or thinking babies are cute. 

There are things, however, that I'm decent at.  Or, I'm interested in enough to want to get better.  For example, building things.  Using my hands.  Working and sweating and laboring to produce something...

When a church asks for volunteers to bring food to something, they may not say it but they are expecting women to respond.  If they ask for people to help with a construction project or yard work they assume men will show up.

To be completely honest, I feel like I don't belong.  I've tried for two years to be a part of a community and I still feel overlooked, unwanted, and pitied.  I've taken complete responsibility, telling myself I need to do something to fix it, but there's a little voice inside that keeps saying something isn't right.

When is it ok to give up and leave?

I'm tired of having to talk myself into going, and even more tired of how hurt and alone I feel when I leave.

And now you know -- the rest of the story.

I thought this commercial was ridiculous at first:


But after reading this story I'm a little less critical.  What can I say, I have a soft-spot for the underdog.

I never claimed to make sense after 2am

Its been a weird day. Submitted as evidence, my mental soundtrack:


Livin' in a powder keg alright...


I've gotten the opportunity to practice patience and grace at work recently, but I haven't. Note to self: passive aggressively griping to coworkers is still acting in anger.


I feel the need to connect, but my life seems like a series of near misses. Whenever I figure out the rules, somebody changes the game. Stupid health insurance.

only 5 more days

Unfortunately, for me, this means added stress at work.

• more cranky customers (but several nice ones too)
• more people who want specific prices but don't plan to place an order
• ridiculous marketing strategies implemented by someone who probably never took a marketing course
• production and sales goals set by managers who have not worked in framing and have little to no grip on reality

Its the last two that really make it hard. All morning I thought, "I'm probably going to lose or quit my job today." I spent the majority of my lunch in tears, releasing the stress that'd built up over the short four hour morning. The afternoon was better (thanks Ativan) and I'm off tomorrow, so I might make it through the week...

Its worth pointing out that I have amazing coworkers. I literally thank God for them. Encouragement, patience, helpfulness, etc... Without people like this I'd end up on aisle 19 in the fetal position whimpering. And nobody wants to see that.

So, 60% off week...get it while you can, but remember to be nice to your framers...

How do you walk up to someone and say, "I'm not ok."

When "how are you?" is spoken in such a cheery, almost chirpy voice, how do you answer it was anything but "fine"?

How do you know if they want to know the truth, and how do you find the words to tell them?

dark days, busy people

I feel like I haven't stopped crying since Thursday.

I don't know what causes this or if there is any sense behind when and why, but the last three days have been bad. Very bad.

It began as soon as I woke up Thursday. Mornings are often bad, but this time it didn't get better. I was cring so hard I thought I'd throw up. And I couldn't stop. I called in sick to work (yeah, now my boss really loves me) and spent most of the rest of the day in bed. Saturday I was scheduled to work 9 hours, but that wasn't happening. I ended up going in at 4 and having a horrible night.

I stayed in bed until 4 today, then I made myself eat something and go to church. While I was getting ready I convinced myself that after church I'd come home and end it. While I was there I couldn't sing, or smile, or pay attention to much of anything really. . . but I was there.

No one knows what to say to someone like me. . . I get that. But those who make an effort do matter. I ran into June as I was leaving. It was hard to get her to accept that I couldn't help her this time, that I just didn't have the money/resources. She asked if anyone inside could help her (we were standing outside the church). I told her I didn't know and she realized I was crying. She asked me what was wrong and if I was depressed. I told her I was but couldn't explain why. She tried to get someone from the church to come out and talk to me but they just seemed annoyed when she opened the door. I told her they were busy, they all had enough of their own stuff going on and didn't have time to talk to me. Saying this outloud made the tears uncontrollable, so I just started walking...


Are people really that busy? Yes.
Should that be a valid excuse? I'm not in a position to answer that.

On one hand I'm disappointed with the people I call my church, but I recognize that if the situations were reversed I would probably react in the same way.

But I really like how June didn't beat around the bush or try to be polite...she flat out asked if I was depressed and suicidal. I could learn a lot from her.


This has all given me something to ponder for awhile, but the reality is I'm still sad and alone, and really, I just don't want to wake up tomorrow.

seulement

Saturday was a bad day. I won't go into detail, but I ended up only working 2 of my 8 hour shift, and my boss is not my biggest fan right now. Sleep + xanax + a little productivity helped some. I decided I needed to make myself get out of my apartment so I watched a movie with some friends at Summit. It was surprisingly easier than I thought. I would even dare to say I had a good time.

I don't know what I expected tonight when I went to church. Again, it was something I didn't feel like doing but I made myself go. The time between the girls' bible study and the main service is always awkward for me. I know that that's when I'm supposed to be meeting new people and bond with those I already know, but I'm really uncomfortable with 3 minute stand-up small talk "hi how are you" conversations. How do you get past this? What does a real conversation feel like? I don't even know anymore.

I've never wanted to be that girl, the one who pours out her sob story when asked "how are you?" But tonight I was standing there and all I could think was "I can't do this. . . I can't stand here and pretend everything's fine when its not." I can talk about the frustration with my car and being nervous about my new job, but thats not whats really going on. Whats really inside my heart is too dark and heavy for a three minute dialogue. I'm not just frustrated, I'm absolutely overwhelmed. I'm more than nervous, I'm completely terrified. . . I'm depressed. I'm lonely. I can't find God, much less myself. But I get the feeling that's more than you're ready to hear in this setting.

So, I left. In doing so, I felt like I was ripping up a piece of the bridge that I've been building in order to be apart of this community. I was making progress, but I've let myself get skip out on so much lately that I feel like I've pulled up nearly every plank I'd nailed down. It felt more like a room full of strangers tonight, rather than a warm gathering of friends.

If there is fault to be found it is with myself, for giving up too easily, focusing too much on myself, for not trying harder or pursuing relationships more purposefully. . . but this is me. I am awkward and self centered and lazy, bust mostly tonight I am mostly just lonely.




I find it hard to tell you,
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
mad world. . .
mad world. . .



. . . The catharsis of writing baffles me. . .

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.

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)