I think that learning to love is like learning to walk.

Horribly necessary, incredibly awkward and altogether pretty awesome

After you've done it for a while, you kinda take it for granted, and when it gets stripped away the pain and yearning for it to come back is overwhelming.

Rehab?

Harder than I want to think about right now. Just let me cry.

And so it was...

...that winter left the mid-Atlantic, and with it, Naomi's mutant power of developing lizard skin.

And also, apparently, Naomi's ability to concentrate on things like school work and tests that are happening in 24 hours.

We've had the most gorgeous-bordering-on-disgustingly-hot weather for the past couple of days. Today is overcast and drippy, but the green of the grass and the leaves is so vibrant and alive that it really isn't a "curl up and sleep" sort of cloudiness. It's aching with the promise of now.

That's how I feel these days - aching with the promise of now. Promises mean anticipation and future awesomeness and "wait and see, it's gonna be great!" but I'm living now. In the present tense.

So I ache.

And wonder what to do and where I'll go and how it all works out, only to conclude that it WILL work out, somehow and all I can do is my best, right now, so quit thinking, start doing and....

it's finals week. why am i blogging? :-P

This is Me

I think that I don't write very much any more because I'm getting better at talking - and I actually have people to talk to now. As opposed to high school when I knew basically nobody.

That said, there are still a number of things that float through my head that I don't really express very much. Or maybe I DO talk about them, but a certain depth of exploration can be had when words are written rather than spoken. For instance: I am sick of being fat. I have been fat for years and years and years. For a long time, I didn't know anything different. I thought it was normal to be a size 14 at 14 years old, and, well, to continue until you hover on the border of XL for years at a time in such a way that is nearly maddening. "Normal" clothes don't fit, and "plus size" is like wearing a tent. Great. Besides that, though, there's an entire facet of my personality that never gets to explore because of being overweight. I LOVE being outside. I went on a 13 mile hike this past summer and it was absolutely amazing -- though it took a heck of a lot longer than it should have for a 23 year old person. Hills kill me...probably always will, but they shouldn't make me feel like that after 10 minutes. I want to snowboard, ski and RUN. I want to ride in a 3 day event [and I have a trainer pushing for me to do just that this coming Fall . . . ] I want to dance.

Sure, I want flat abs. Who doesn't? It'd be nice to have things that are supposed be toned be...toned. But it's more than that. I'm sick of being the fat funny friend. I'm sick of wondering if the only reason I rarely get hit on is my weight. Not that I WANT to be hit on by skeevy dudes, but it makes you wonder when your 15 year old sister has to figure out how to handle that sort of thing when you've never had the problem.

I realize that there are so many people out there with health problems and other issues that prevent them from living an active vivaciously physical life. I'm not one of them. I'm just freakin fat.

And yeah, I've been sick of it for a long time, and sure, I've tried various diets and work out routines and whatever. I've gone down and regained and contemplated anorexic behaviors. The only thing I haven't done is actually gotten better. This isn't a disease, this is a lifestyle of ignorance leading to poor choices and denial.

Turn the lights on; it's over.

Being Single/in a relationship/Married . . . . Human?

The macadamia and I saw "He's Just Not That Into You" the other night. Of course, being girls, we don't really need a reason to start talking about relationships and people, but the movie definitely spurred some conversation. What does a healthy relationship look like? Which of the relationships portrayed in the film most closely resembled that? How much of a difference is there between relationships with a Christian foundation and relationships without one? (Somewhere in there, I pointed out that there is a significant portion of the female population that NEVER gets marred. She didn't believe me, but we looked it up - 24%. That's almost 1 in 4. Given the number of weddings I've been associated with, well . . . I won't say it here, she'll hit me again.)

And then my brother called me a couple of nights ago and we started talking about the same sort of thing - only with a broader scope. The tone of the conversation was different simply because neither of us is in a relationship right now and we can ask questions like "is it really beneficial to get paired up with another person?" Sure, the desire's there for a reason, but if you're honest with yourself, are you going to live a life of fuller productivity for God with the distraction of another person? That, of course, raises the question of which is the greater distraction: desiring a relationship, or being in one. I'm not sure we reached much of a solid conclusion with that, beyond "Some relationships are really good and definitely founded on mutual pursuit of God...others, not so much. Right now, God has both of us in a place of 'being single' so we'll just go with that." It was a good conversation.

All of the talking got me pondering. And then I read 1 John before I left for work tonight.

"By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has this world's goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth." ~ 1 John 3:16-18, NKJV

I could keep typing up verses from that book - there are so many that go *ZOT!* - but I'm pretty sure that all of the random brain things that I'm typing up already are going to get confusing, so I'm going to try to slow down my thoughts to match my typing speed and make the statement that I almost used as the title to this post: love sucks.

Regardless of the context - romantic, friendship, parent-child, passing acquaintanceship - love, real love, sucks. It hurts. It's sacrifice. There are definitely a bundle of benefits to go with it - and the warm fuzzies of knowing someone else cares are pretty cool - but when you get down to the nitty gritty of just what it is that God's telling us to do.....yeah, it bites.

Think about it: when Christ was on His way to the cross, that was love. That was why He came. We're called to pick up our cross and follow Him (Matt. 16:24). Our love for Him brings the likelihood of persecution and lack of understanding on the part of others (John 15:20). Putting some serious thought into the whole "marriage is a reflection of Christ's relationship with the church" thing will absolutely blow your mind. Christ died for the church. The church is martyred for Christ. Christians don't take part in certain lifestyles because we believe they are not honoring to God. It's a form of sacrifice not unlike the sacrifices that are made in solid marriage relationships every day.

*sigh* Ok, my train of thought totally got interrupted by various dealings here at work. The general point that I'm trying to make is that love is hard. But I guess that makes sense...I mean, it's a - if not THE - key aspect of God. Without Him, it's pretty much impossible.

I am not Wonder Woman

It's true. While I may have been christened WW back at my former place of employment, I can't do everything all at once. I've tried...again. And again, well, I've failed. But! I quit while I was ahead, and life is good :-) [side note: lifting heavy boxes of paper and stuff is no where near as difficult as lifting heavy people who want to bite you]

As further explanation of my current situation, I am no longer enrolled in the nursing program that I fought tooth and nail to get into less than a year ago. When I started in the fall with all sorts of administrative hoops and other idiocy, I had an inkling that this wasn't going to work, but I gave it a shot anyway. This semester, with more credits than I've EVER taken (except for that one time back in my freshman year when I tried 21...) and a full time job on the night shift, I basically died. Not literally, mind you. In fact, I've been doing better as far as life in general goes. Academically, however, life was going less than great. I completely forgot a paper that was due, fell behind by about two week's worth of assignments in an online class and finally ended up postponing an exam until the end of the semester. I never forget papers. Ever. While online classes are easy targets for procrastination, the point I was reaching was unacceptable. And postponing exams is very near the top of "things I REALLY do not like to do." All of the stuff that I had to do would render me incapable of logical thought. I would literally log in, look at my classes and freeze.
"I should study Pharmacology for tomorrow"
"But I NEED to study micro"
"Oh gosh, that stupid paper was supposed to be submitted three days ago"
"It's 4 in the morning. Why am I up?"
"Dratit, I need to read that other thing, too . . . ."

My brain can be a pretty crazy place sometimes - and thank you for the concern, but all of those thoughts were not voices and I'm not seeing things or having suicidal ideation.

After a great deal of consideration, consultation and a rather healthy dose of prayer, I decided to drop two classes. That places me at 10 credits for the semester, and I fully intend to pull a 4.0 on them. I do not believe that education should come at the cost of my life. I love everything I'm involved in right now - my job [well, you know, most of the time], rescue squad, my INCREDIBLE friends and family... and school is just another thing to add to the list. It's important, sure, but it doesn't trump anything else - except for maybe work...and work involves income, so that's not really possible for me right now.

It might take me until I'm 80 to graduate, but at least I'll have lived along the way.

three weeks til spring break

For as long as I've been in college, I haven't really done a whole lot with "YAY SPRING BREAK!!!" sorts of things.

Thankfully, that's changing this year :-D

There are some people who whistle like tea kettles when they snore.

If you think I'm joking, you should hear what I'm hearing right now. I don't know if this particular person was ever married, but if they were, I have very strong feelings of sympathy for their spouse.

I got yelled at in Hungarian tonight. That was a new experience and not one that I'm very likely to wish repeated.

Actually, tonight had a few "that can be the only time that ever happens and I will not be sad" sorts of things. I dumped a bucket of mop water on the floor and kinked my back when positioning a patient (seriously, you're supposed to keep weight close to your body and not twist while moving a person in a bed??? right. you have fun with that). And I am seriously fighting a crazy case of the tireds because I didn't go running before work today. Endorphins are amazing things. I'm addicted to them. Gimme. ...I just realized this paragraph makes it sound as though I dumped mop water while positioning my patient. I didn't. And no, I'm not going to fix the paragraph. I'm tired.

In about 14 hours I will be done with my first monster killer exam of the year. I'm about half way ready, I think. That's not enough, but...well...I'm doing what I can. If I can solidify my memorization of the molecular steps involved in the formation of urine, I think it'll be ok. Oddly enough, the molecular stuff involved with respiration is very straightforward to me. [watch me bomb that part. haha.]

It's crazy windy outside right now. I hope a tree doesn't fall on my car, cuz that would pretty much not be a good thing. Also, I think whatever sort of storm this is interfered with cell service, because my blackberry's battery was basically dead after 6 hours.

Anyway, those are my random thought type things of the evening...morning...time thingy. I'm going to keep listening to teakettle person and hope that 0700 comes more quickly now.

Do You Ever Wonder

I've been working on a Baccale..whatsawhozit degree since I finished high school 7 years ago. [fyi, that's almost twice as long as it's supposed to take] There are a variety of reasons for it taking so long - switching majors, failed classes, lack of finances, Dad dying, not sure what I'm doing with my life.... but for the most part, I've been enrolled in a college for at least part of every single one of those seven years.

Why?

Seriously, I've asked this question before, and been convicted with the truth of the fact that, when I left for school way back when, I wasn't praying "what should I do?" as much as it was "I'm going to college now, so where?" Now I find myself wondering if I'm just going for the 4 year because I started this thing, darnit, and I WILL finish it, hell or highwater or...or.... [I get so articulate when I'm tired, it's really quite impressive]

Compounding the questions is the idiocy of college administration. Here's some news for you, boys and girls, it doesn't matter where you go, the admin is going to do something dumb. That's just how the game is played. It is your job to suck it up and deal. This has frustrated me since the dawn of my college career and the problems I'm currently facing are nearly inspiration enough to once again switch to something or somewhere else. (well, that, along with the fact that my prof told me straight up last night that EMS people have a hard time making the transition to nursing because it requires a different mindset. yikes?)

This is probably just the tired rambling of a mind overwhelmed by the stack of reading it faces over the weekend...but there's still a part of me that chafes at the fact that I'm supposed to put stuff before people. People are the reason I'm doing this stuff! How twisted can you get?

Art

I am not an artist.

There are parts of my heart that yearn to express themselves; through pictures, through sketches, through music...and every time I try to get it out, it's not what I want it to be. The pictures in my heart are richer than the ones that pop out of my camera. The drawings in my mind aren't lopsided and disappointingly two dimensional. And the songs that lie sleeping in my soul have harmonies that blend so perfectly with a melody yet unheard.

So, I write. But because the words aren't pictures or music [and we all know that a picture is worth a thousand words...music is a different language entirely] I scorn myself. I scorn the words. The thought that mere letters can express the depth of my heart on any given subject seems pathetic.

Which means I stop writing, in turn bottling up the all of the stuff that doesn't get expressed in any other form of art.

Vicious cycle, really....compounded by lack of time and a dying laptop battery.

Hospice

There's a patient on my unit who is now on "full hospice care" She's obviously dying. I go in to check on her during rounds and have to stand and watch for a full 15 seconds in order to see her catch her breath.

Two nights ago, I was sitting with a patient who came to us with norovirus and her agitation got increasingly worse - especially when I tried to get her to lie down. Then she started gurgling and coughing and sounding generally not good. Upon transport to the ER downstairs, suction became necessary and the greenest stuff I've ever seen come out of person made its appearance. She was transferred to the big hospital and died the next day.

When I started working on a psych unit, I never thought that I'd be facing extensive geriatric/nursing home type situations. It's so...sad. But not in the "I just want to cry" sense. It's not really emotional for me; there's a disconnect in my brain that doesn't allow for emotion to get involved. I try to make these people comfortable; I do everything I can to help them, and then I move straight to the acceptance stage. There's a sort of check in my brain saying that someday, all of this is going to come back to me and I'm going to become a flipped out basket case........I hope not. It's my goal to ease the suffering and make the unnaturalness of death and the transition to it less painful - for the patient AND the patient's family. That last part is kind of difficult when the unit is on isolation due to norovirus exposure.

Tomorrow is my first BioMedical Ethics class. I got a peek at the syllabus tonight and we will be discussing things like living wills and advanced directives this semester. Now that it's out of the hypothetical and into reality for me I think it's going to feel like more of a fuzzy area. Guess we'll see...

Unplugged...with a lot of thoughts and a dying battery.

I don't like feeling as though I am misunderstood, but it's worse when I feel that the misunderstandings are a direct result of my miscommunication.

And I seriously have a bunch of deep and probing brain things about this line of thought, but, as usual, they are being difficult to express while at work. So I'm going to do this thing that Heidi had on her blog....

{Bold items have been done by me}

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child {I have three Compassion kids!}
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill {it wasn't really a sick day; my boss knew I was going skiing. It was a snow day}
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language {barely...the French I self taught in high school hasn't really lasted}
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance {I've transported...countless people...and I've PLAYED at being a patient, so I think I sort of get points}
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life {most. amazing. feeling. ever.}
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a mobile phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

And...yeah, ok, that's it. I would like to think that going to Europe - or rather, NOT going, doesn't define my life...and hey, I've swum in the Blue Lagoon in Iceland! And been to the cliff in Scotland that constitutes the Biblical "uttermost parts of the earth." That's gotta count for something ;-)

Appreciating Gravity

I fell off a horse today.

It was my fault, really. I was being lazy and not paying attention, and then the other horse spooked, which spooked my horse and, well, lateral movement was not at the forefront of my mind just then.

It's gonna hurt worse in the morning.

But that's ok. My schedule is finally adjusted to the point where I'll be able to ride regularly once a week! I'm pretty excited about that. We'll see if I'm able to maintain a decent GPA along with the rest of my activities...and sleep is something that needs to be more of a priority this semester. But for the most part, I'm excited.

Tonight I am babysitting the duckie. The duckie is absolutely adorable, and while I love her to pieces, she has thoroughly convinced me that having children is not at the top of my "achieve before menopause" list. I don't know how mothers do it. I seriously don't. And I definitely don't know how they survive more than one little person who screams for no apparent reason for hours on end. Seriously. The child was obviously exhausted (she's finally sleeping now.....) but she just kept wailing. There would be brief moments of respite when she would suck on her sleeve and hiccup, but once her lungs recovered, she'd be back to screaming full force again. I'm only here for an evening and she's driven me closer to insanity. How do moms DO it???

Whew. Anyway. I should be writing a history assignment instead of a ranting random blog post.

Well That Was Interesting [and other tales from the north]

So my 2009 began in a prophetic meeting service thingy.

I could go into a long drawn out explanation of why I'm leery of prophetic meeting thingies. There's an interesting history involving well-intentioned people and a youthful ignorance about charismatic doctrine that was quickly...nonignoranced. But the past isn't really going to help put much in perspective this time. Neither is a debate on the merits of doctrine questioning the validity of prophecy in modern times.

The fact of the matter is, for as much as my relationship with God has become sort of like those marriages where the involved parties live in the same house, share the same bed and go through the motions of building a life together without actively knowing each other anymore, I knew that He had a reason for bringing me to that spot. And I knew that I wasn't really going to buy whatever any preacher man had to say. Or I would at least...chew on it and try to dissect it and otherwise, you know, rationalize.

So it came as no real surprise to me when the guy picked me out of the row and had me stand in the aisle to pray over me. It came as no surprise when he used the word "annointing" about 3 times in 30 seconds; his type is rather fond of the word "annointing" I'm not, but hey.

He said a lot of things, but the thing that got me most was a fervent "open the door to believing again!" that almost seemed an afterthought in prayer. My sisters pick on the fact that he called me "strong and bullheaded," attributing such characteristics to our dad. What if I am? It means I haven't given up.

I know that a lot of what is marketed as prophecy tends to be super generalized and broadly applicable, but I also believe that God knows what I need....and He gives it to me.

Now if we could just get back to the "yep, I trust You, lead me off the cliff...." point.

Where is the line

between ignorance and bliss?

I asked that question and received "Prudence and common sense" as an answer. Good point, but doesn't the question beg the point that ignorance is not truly bliss?

Hmm.

Anyway, I am a released EMT. I am responsible for a crew, a patient, a scene, an ambulance and pretty much all sorts of things that should terrify me, but, oddly enough, don't.

Another thing on the list of oddities: pediatric calls are fairly infrequent. Since I've been running as a released provider I've had three patients. They ranged in age from 6 days to 11 years.

Wanna see something funny? Send a girl who's terrified of infants in the first place into a pediatric office where she's expecting to find a 6 month old patient [eek!] and instead present her with a 6 day old actively being suctioned with a bulb syringe. {EEK!!!}

Ok, I know that suctioning mucous and junk is not a big deal for the most part. Babies throw up all the time, and they get gunky and need to be wiped up after, but this was kinda different and rather nervewracking. Fortunately, we transported and arrived at the hospital safely, but it's not something I'd like to repeat any time soon. Afterward I was emphatically told by both the medic AND the senior EMT on my crew that I can no longer run Thursday day shift.

I'm exhausted and wondering why I love this stuff so much......

....and I'm happy.

W. T. F.

For real!? Truly and honestly and....just REALLY?!?!???

Ok, so it's not like I ever had any illusions of being the only girl he was dating. And I didn't really think that it was going "work out." And I knew that I shouldn't be dating a nonChristian/nominal Catholic/whatever it is that he is.

But a kid?? He's gonna have a KID?! And I find out on Google. This is great. Juuuuust great. The irony is simply dazzling, and I feel sick.

I feel sick for me, in a way, just because....I was vulnerable to something like this. Oh my gosh. But I feel more sick for her. For that poor woman who is in a relationship with him, all happy and excited and planning a nursery and preparing to go through the most painful physical experience known to all womankind. How can he do that to her? She doesn't deserve to be two-timed. Nobody deserves that. And quite honestly, I'm pretty sure it's not two-timed. It's more likely something like 5 timed or worse.

What am I supposed to do? I finally talked to him about it, and he got toooootally pissed at me. Told me that I don't really have a whole lot of life experience to go on and that looking people up online is a bad idea because you might find out things that you "just don't need to know!" Said he'd "talk to me later" at the end of the conversation, but I'm not counting on it.

Why do I care? This hurts so much. My heart is breaking for a woman I've never met and the son she's going to meet next month. My heart is breaking for him, too. That he could become so emotionally detatched as to actually....oh, God. I'm a messed up cookie, for sure, but at least my screw ups don't hold intense attachment to a series of other people.

Or they didn't until this.

I knew from the moment I met him that my life would be different as a result, but this is beyond, by far, ANYTHING that possibly would have gone through my mind.

Now what?

Hey, God.

uh...You're supposed to say "hi" back now?

Hello?

*sigh*

Look, I know that things have kinda...sucked...lately. And I know that's my fault. I'm a person and imperfect and all of that. I'm sorry.

Ok, so I'm not REALLY sorry. Not in the "I hereby repent of all my wickedness and shall sell all of my belongings and move to deepest darkest Africa to pray for the pagans" sense of the word.

I'm not even sure what sense of the word I DO mean it; come to think of it. It's just...the thing to say when you're friends with someone and haven't talked in a long time. And, well, we haven't really talked, so, You know. . . .

Are you even there, or am I talking to Your answering machine? My dad's there, isn't he? He's listening to this whooooole thing and laughing at me.

Maybe he's missing me? Cuz I really, really miss him, God. I miss him like . . . like there's no description.

Every time I try to talk to You these days, he comes up somehow. And that hurts. So, uh, that's kinda why I haven't been talking to You. If I don't think, junk doesn't come up, and so it can't hurt.

At least not perceptively.

Until now, when I find my heart so simultaneously hardened and eroded that I don't recognize it at all and it scares me.

Where did the hope go?

Where did love go?

.....where the heck did YOU go???

GOD!!! ABBA!!!! I'M TALKING TO YOU DOWN HERE, DO YOU EVEN CARE?!

*pants*

That's an honest question. I'm not saying it to be cliche. I mean it. Do You care? Do You give a flying fig?

I cuss sometimes; does that horrify You?

Does that guy horrify you?

Are you horrifiable? Maybe horrify isn't the right word, but it's what's in my head right now. It seems that's the reaction I get from people who claim you.

Well, actually, it's the reaction I expect to get. Lots of them don't know. A few of them just look at me like I'm the little lost sheep. Poor silly Naomi, went astray and found a briar patch. Tsk tsk. Let's pray her out of it, boys and girls.

Yeah, pray me out of this while you stay in your happy little bubble of nonreality, where your love is ineffective because it bounces back in your face off the spring loaded smiley faced trampoline walls you build. Pray harder, everyone, because that version ain't gonna cut it this time.

Ew. Ok, God, I really am sorry about that one. Bitterness is something You don't appreciate, that much I know. And it's not supposed to grow in me. I don't think I knew that was there....at least, not like that. Yikes.

.....the artifice has gotta get to You too, though, right?

Now and Then

The thought that the person I was 3 years ago would be horrified by the person I am today is something that's been on my mind quite a bit these days. Since I haven't really been able to explain it satisfactorily to people who ask me what I mean, I thought I'd write it out and see if that helps.

The me of three years ago was at enrolled in a yet to be accredited conservative Christian college. She was convinced that God brought her to the east coast from the midwest for reasons yet to be revealed and that loving a guy who didn't love her was her calling in life. The me of three years ago was something of an emo drama queen sometimes. Three years ago, I was working on the campus of the college I attended. I continued working there because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find - or handle - a job anywhere else, even though I was entering upper level course work in a government policy degree and attaining the highest GPA I'd ever achieved at that college. Three years ago, I was striving for independence. Rescue Squad was nonexistent in my world and I drove around in an Oldsmobile.

I knew a grand total of...zero...nonChristians. My world was a safe little bubble all wrapped in pretty paper.

Today . . . I still have emo drama queen tendencies, but they tend to drive me up a wall, so I crush them rather than embrace them. No longer attending or working at the conservative Christian college, no longer convincing myself to be in love with someone (though there are a host of questions in that area of my life right now that I'm just sort of mulling over) Government is something I hiss at and avoid like the plague. My grades while pursuing a degree in nursing are better than any I got while studying policy. I drive a Dodge and Rescue Squad practically owns my soul.

The me of today counts people who don't love God among some of the most amazing individuals she has the privilege of knowing. And they're PEOPLE to me, not projects, or things to put on a prayer list.

I think that's the thing that would rock the world of three years ago me more than anything else. That, along with the fact that the shiny paper got shredded, the bubble was popped, and reality doesn't look anything like the distorted gauzy picture we paint from behind the plastic stained glass of modern Christianity. Life is tough out here -- but it's ALIVE.

Better

"I'm getting better!"

And not in the Monty Python sense, either. It's an amazing thing to realize that God infuses us with hope we can't control - or kill. More amazing is the fact that He places people in our lives to truly love us when we're at our lowest sludge point.

(oddly enough, realizing this makes it easier for me to be a decent EMT...)

Now I just need to figure out how to carry on a conversation with a non-drunk, non-crazy person....

I write in poetry when I can't say what I mean for real. It's probably some sort of coping mechanism, evidenced by the fact that poetry generally happens when I'm working through some sort of crisis or other less than deliriously happy experience.

The thing is . . .I find this annoying. What I write has feeling, yes, but I don't want to write painful or hopeless sounding trash, so the hopefulness that gets expressed often feels tacked on or obligatory and thus, I hate it.

Besides that, my brain and style are stuck in the SAME METER EVERY TIME. Do I know that poetry doesn't have to rhyme? Yes. Yes, I do. But it doesn't matter, because if I write something that doesn't rhyme, it drives me nuts, and so I search around for just the word to fit my syllabic cadences. Then I FIND the word, and the fact that I found it drives me nuts, because I didn't have to, darnit, I was just writing.

Hmph.

Anyway. I am not doing well these days. Admitting this is probably indicative of a pending betterness, but honestly, I'm not holding my breath. Surface level is ok; keeping busy and getting rid of last week's beyond nasty sinus infection. Beyond that...well, let's talk about something else, shall we? I got mad at God and didn't talk to Him for a while and now things are in such a state that I don't feel as though I have any right to talk to Him. So, of course, I yell at Him. That definitely helps. Until I realize that I have no place to be doing that and so shut up again.

For being female, my communication skills are abysmal.

There wasn't too much to me
When you walked into my life
You asked simple questions
The answers were concise
But minutes turn to hours
Hours turn to days
Your presence became something
I expected in some way

Our tastes in music were so different
Our age and history, too
But you seemed to like my presence
And the fact my eyes are blue
So the minutes became hours
Hours turned to days
And your ever-prolonged glances
Flattered, in a way

Now it's six months later
And glances became more
You wrapped your arms around me
My heart didn't feel so sore
Strength is an anesthetic
When it's not my own
I'm addicted to the numbness
The pretense of a home

A call tonight from someone
Who's known me many years
Made me realize something
That should render me to tears
It's a disturbing thing to notice
In the middle of the night
You never really loved me
And I can't make this right

keep on breathing
keep on bleeding
though no one sees the wound
looks like a scar
but do you care
to know real life this soon

yes, keep on breathing
please stop bleeding
pain like this can't last
time will heal it
truth reveals it
shadows overcast

if i could just stop bleeding
must i stop breathing?
no, He did that once

He kept on bleeding
then stopped breathing
and kicked death's sorry...*cough*

if You kept on bleeding
so i can keep breathing
why does it hurt so bad?
i feel i don't know You
Your truths are just virtues
like life is a joke - time to laugh

but i'll keep on breathing
eventually stop bleeding
and You'll hold me close
safe
not alone