Broken Places

When you throw your back out it is often because the muscles around your spine have moved out of place. Sort of.
Your spine has been tweaked out of place but you don't know it immediately because the muscles will move and compensate for the pain by moving to a place where the pain is tolerable.

Eventually, no amount of movement, no amount of compensation, will make the pain tolerable. Usually this is when my back officially goes out and I can't walk upright anymore. This is when I'm forced to go to the chiropractor and get my back adjusted into the correct places...again.

This morning, standing in the dark shower I said to God...sometimes it is easier to stay broken.

I don't know the moments when my back goes out. I only know the moments when the muscles around my spine give up the fight and say enough is enough this has to be fixed and we can't do that anymore.

Even then, bent over and hobbling around I think...this will get better soon. I just have to push through. My back will take care of it, it will be fine. I will be fine.

Fine is my F word.

I just want everything to be fine. If I don't look directly at being broken it's fine. It's ok. It's no big deal. I can manage. I'll just move some muscle around and compensate for the pain.

Don't look at how you spend money and why you place value on bank account balances. It's fine. Just leave it alone.
Don't look at what you eat, Jesus loves you anyway even if no one else does. It's fine. Just let it be.
Don't look at friendships. If you do you might be clingy and scare people away from being your friend. Just be cool. No one loves a needy girl.
Don't look at relationships. Don't ask why, the answer is probably something that requires change from you and that's not what we're going to do.
Don't look at touch. It has no easy answers and complicated is just too messy.

So I compensate. I mold myself around the pain instead of trying to clear it up. Because sometimes it's just easier to stay broken.

But now I can't walk. I'm hobbled over and unable to push through.
God is whispering that it's time to get adjusted. It's time to stop compensating and avoiding and look directly at some things.
I tell Him I hate it.
I tell Him I don't want to.
I tell Him that HE made me this way. (The blaming always seems to help)

Again he has to tell me, again he has to take my heart into his hands and remind me that he did make me. But not for this. Not for a sort of half life hiding and fearful of looking directly at the broken places.
He reminds me that he is already in those broken places waiting to meet me there. I just have to look directly at them and I'll see him there.

I don't know the moments these places were broken. I only know that in one of the places specifically, I'm giving up the fight. I still tell him I hate it. I still tell him I don't want to.

But now it's by looking over at him, beside me in the broken place.

Poisoned Fruit

I've been watching a lot of Law & Order lately. When they get to the courtroom scenes there is often a battle over what evidence should be admitted in the trial. If one big piece is omitted then it can have a domino effect on a lot of other smaller pieces of evidence.

Fruit of the poisonous tree is what they call that evidence.

That's how life feels lately.

Every broken relationship
Every cutting comment
Every knock down drag out fight
Every shaming scoff

Fruit of the poisonous tree.

The generational sin and brokenness that feels like poison seething through my veins so I want to rip the roots out of my familiy tree and plant it in less fallow ground.

I feel panicked wondering how I can change my own behaviors and attitudes to help change the tide of bitterness, anger and snark that rears its hideous head.

I feel afraid, wounded and damaged. Wishing I could strike back like a snake. Teaching lessons and hurting those that hurt me, shame me and others. Putting a stop to those who belittle and dimiss others. I wish I could shout loud enough to make their eyes open to the damage their indifference and cruelty is causing.

But I can't. I don't have a pretty bow to wrap this all up. All I know is that I am called to be gracious and loving to everyone; even when I feel like they don't deserve it anymore.

The tension for me is in setting boudaries and keeping them while at the same time being gracious and kind.
Loving the best I can the people in our family even when they behave so unloveable.

Home

My throat has dried up.I've been paralyzed by what to say, overcome again and again by the fear of rejection, the fear of abandonment.
Working through intimacy issues steadfastly ignored for at least 20 years if not the full 32 is scary. Scary because I have to try to re-build my belief that I am valuable because I am a child of God. Even if I did nothing else ever for the rest of my life I would have value simply because God made me.

Because I don't believe it. I doubt it so greatly that I've convinced myself (along with a substantial amount of help from others) that it's true.

I feel dry. So dry and sapped and strung out on fear and paranoia I can't see the top of the hole I've dug for myself to hide in.

But through it all I hear God whispering that he won't leave. If I can be frank, and it's my blog so I think I will be, I don't believe him yet.
With every relationship I seem to have long lapses of times where I hold my breath waiting for them to figure out that I'm no good. That I'm garbage to be thrown away when I'm no longer entertaining or useful.
Because that's who I see when I look in the mirror.

Garbage.
Useless.
Not good.

But that God is persistent. Even as I turn my face from him, even as I shout at him that he made a mistake when he made me because I'm NO GOOD he just stays put, stubbornly.

I stopped leading. The transition has been better and more terrible than I anticipated. Better because I have had my pastors clearly express to me they care for me no matter what. Better because I have experienced them allowing me to exit and go quiet because they want to help me honor God in truly resting and refreshing in this time. Terrible because I secretly wonder if they're relieved the be done with me. Terrible because I feel useless and therefore I'm not worth anything if I'm not doing doing doing.
Let me be clear that most days I know it's not true.
Most days I can inhale without choking and exhale without sobbing.
It's the some days that pour shadows over the sun and I wonder if I'll ever again believe these lovely people and this mighty God love me.

But I'm starting to feel the inkling of belief. The echo of a memory of the deep down knowing that God is here. He's here and he's not leaving and he's sticking around no matter what. It feels so strange.

But it also feels like home.

seeing myself sitting against the wall of the cavern with my tired head laying atop my arms slung over my knees and realizing it’s where i am and where i’ve been for a while, i found i wasn’t alone. seeing this in my mind’s eye for the first time, jesus sat with his arm around me. ‘we can stay here as long as you need to, mary kathryn,’ i heard in my heart. ‘and i will stay here with you. but i will not let you stay here forever.'

(Inspired by: Bottom-Dwellers)

but anger is the mask fear wears until it either becomes a monster of hate or a puddle of clay which only christ can mold and fix and change in his own image. (via)

Possession

When someone touches me it feels like they're trying to take possession of me.
I don't like it. Even the most platonic and non-sexual touch makes me cringe. It takes months or even years of time spent for me to feel comfortable with touch.

I know it comes from a lot of things.
That damn back room and the way she would rest her age spotted hand on my shoulder when whispering how rotten I was, the pinching tightness of her only slightly younger age spotted hands gripping my upper arm hissing at me the things to say to never have to go home again.
The way the only touch I ever felt comforted under was hidden in secrecy of too young and too soon. The way even that touch would disintegrate with the stunning rapidity of shifting teen allegiances.
The way I knew I could use touch to change a topic or divert attention from a searching glance or reassure myself that you cared enough to spend the night.

So now these many years later touch has become bad. All touch. I have to really believe that you won't hurt me to allow touch, and I don't really believe that a lot of people won't hurt me.

Even with dear friends, the closer geographically they get, the less we touch. Long weekend are punctuated by obligatory hugs but I hate to linger. It feels like a trap. Like I won't be able to escape (these dear people that I otherwise have no desire to escape).

I had a friend once, and believe me when I say we were really just friends. We would go walking in benign places and hold hands just for the comfort of having another anchor in the world. There was poking and arms casually slung around shoulders, soft touches to the back or face just to say, "I'm still here. This is still solid ground."
I miss that friend. Because life shifted as it will and it's no longer appropriate for us to comfort each other, even platonically, that way. His wife would probably mind, which is completely appropriate and understandable.

But outside of the desperate and often manipulative context of teenage sexuality I cannot recall any other person or relationship that contained such an ease of touch. Nothing sexual, nothing inappropriate, just one person saying to another that they were there.
It's the last time I didn't feel that constricting need to flee at even the slightest touch.

Heart Burn

A vice gripped my heart
During quiet murmurings and plans for the next few days I cleared my throat
I could hardly force the words out
But I did
I asked

It is probably my fault
I didn't make it clear how important it was to me that you both came

I'm fighting the urge to not even bother asking because I'm sure I'll be disappointed
So I twist myself into feeling detached and unaffected as if your answer doesn't matter
I tell you it was just a thought I had

But it was important
I wanted to be picked
I wanted to be chosen
I wanted them to want to choose me

I didn't want to have to manipulate and plan the choice. I wanted them to choose me because they wanted to choose me, because I was chosen.

I don't want to be so upset about this
I want to be detached and indifferent
But I also want to make sure that I'm allowing myself to feel these things, regardless of if they matter to anyone else
I want to get to the point that my emotions are not dependent on others validations of them

But can I tell you I still want that validation
I don't understand why it's wrong to want it
I just do, and I don't know what to do about it

A good friend said there's nothing to do about it.
She said that's my specialty, doing
When that's stripped away from me I am afraid I am stripped of everything. All my value.

Which is a lie
One that I'm struggling to stop believing

I'm holding on to hope that one day this could be made right
Cause I've been ship wrecked and left for dead and I've seen the darkest sights
Everyone I've loved seems like a stranger in the night
But oh my heart still burns
Tells me to return
Search the fading light
- Ulysses, Josh Garrels

Some Days

Some days it's heavier.
Heavier to hold this wondering if I'll ever even out.
If I'll ever stop wondering when the other shoe will drop, when you will leave, when your lies (because I believe they exist) will come to light.

Some days it's harder to believe that it will all be ok and it will all work out in the end.

Some days I have to cling to hope and His promises so tightly I can't feel my heart anymore.

Because I believe this will all be redeemed. I believe that this will all be used for my good and His glory.
Some days I just need to remind myself a little more so I can swing my feet out of bed and face the day knowing my doubts will scream at me from the minute my eyes open until they finally shut again.

Conditional Grace

I've recently been added to a group on Facebook. There's a new rash of "You know you're from (or attended) :insertcityorschoolnamehere: if..." groups and I was added to the one from my High School.

Its been filled with posts about the ins and outs of attending said school as well as a lot of people that aren't my FB friends and who I was happy to mostly not have to speak to again.
It seems a little cliche to not enjoy the high school you attended, and it's not exactly that I didn't enjoy the high school that I attended or even the town I grew up in, really. I didn't mind it. But I also didn't like a lot of the people or things that happened there. Very typical small town and it's been interesting to see where people ended up and how people have changed, or in a lot of cases stayed the same.

Enter a sermon on judgement Sunday at church and it had me thinking a lot today about grace.


Because I am realizing more and more how I offer conditional grace.
I have a hard time letting people exit the boxes I remember them living in, the way I remember them being. Even though I loathe when that happens to me, when people don't let me evolve, change and mature I can't give everyone the same courtesy.

I'm learning how to walk the fine line between judgement and grace. I'm learning that just like with almost every other aspect in my life I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I'm the kind of girl that either believes there is redemption for people even when I can't see the possibility, or they are un-redeemable. I'm also learning that sometimes there are appropriate and correct boundaries that must be set.
See, I have this idea that I should give my all to everyone. That I should try to make them happy and comfortable and help their lives be as wrinkle-free as possible.

The only problem with that is I end up feeling left out, forgotten or I ultimately (or immediately) end up sacrificing my values, beliefs or mental/emotional well-being in the process.
I'm learning that I can't do it anymore.

I just can't.

I'm learning that I shouldn't either. That just because there should be grace, and that should cover everyone it is not my job to make things ok for them. Sometimes, things need to not be ok for other people.

It's the root of a lot of tension in my life right now as I move forward trying to begin relationships with healthy boundaries and build healthier boundaries into the existing relationships in my life. It's taking a lot of energy to seek God's will for what he wants in and around my life and to say no and stick to it when there are people and things in my life that I just can't abide any longer.
Because I'm stuck in that tension of being a people pleaser, wanting people to like me and want me around. I'm seeing more often how destructive and detrimental that is when I choose keeping others happy and content over doing what is right for my heart.

Even typing it I feel incredibly selfish. I want to qualify it with all sorts of reasons and examples of why it's important. But I'm not.
It's important because it's what God's asking me to do right now, and I do in fact need to do it with grace; especially when it impacts others.
Ben was right on the spot Sunday when he said that for generations we've offered either the truth without grace or grace without the truth.

I'm learning how to balance them both in the only messy and broken way that I know how.

Reno Schmeno

The kitchen has been destroyed.
Contractors have been contracted, plumbers have been called and schedules made.
Now....I just have to survive.

But it's not going as bad as I thought it would be, I'm hesitant to say that because I'm afraid everything will fall apart.

Hopefully soon I'll have before pictures from my dad camera to show you guys, and then in a few short weeks I'll have after pictures too.

Stay tuned!

Constant Vigilance

I'm heading into a kitchen remodel and while Pete is talented and gracious enough to do everything he refuses to do the drywall. I can't really blame him, dry wall, finishing it specifically, is the worst.
But that means I have to hire a dry wall contractor.
Needless to say I'm having quite a bit of anxiety about it.

I'm just not comfortable having random men wander in and out of my home without me there. I can't take the time off and yes Pete will be there but it all just leaves me feeling unsafe.

So I try to remain calm and explain as directly as possible my concerns to these contractors and they all act like I'm nuts. Then I try to explain it to some people at work and they also think I'm nuts. Then worse still both groups of people proceed to tell me the most terrifying stories of contractors that go through your things and hide in closets waiting for people to come home.

WHO DOES THAT HELP?
Not this girl.

All of this is just overwhelming and if it weren't for Pete and Dad reminding me what a waste it would be to put so much money into the kitchen without redoing the walls with the sagging seams I would just say screw it and decide to live with my kitchen as is for the rest of my life in this house.

The annoying thing is, that at one point today I actually stopped and wondered if maybe I was crazy. Like actually bat shit crazy insane. Because no one else seemed to be the slightest bit sympathetic about what I was concerned about.
I had to keep talking myself off the ledge and reminding myself that I have every right to advocate for my safety and not be belittled for it.

Now, if only we can convince others that.

You're My Candy

Had a great and relaxing weekend in Cleveland with my boys. There was swimming, sun, relaxing and copious amounts of candy.
More on that later....right now, I have some candy to inhale.

The sugar's only sweetness,
Salt is ocean tears
And you were my only weakness
For years and years and years
You're my little yellow sweetie
You were hiding in a jar
Now my mind is gone completely
Take off the lid and there you are

You're my can-dy
Can-dy

Well the devil, she made sweet candy,
took six days and nights to dream
On the seventh day she rested,
woke up early and made ice cream
Now the devil, she must be a dentist
with deep jawbreaker eyes
Red rope hair, gumdrop lips,
cotton candy thighs

Chocolate lava stole my body
and aftertaste stole my mind
Left me dangling down defenseless
then sweet candy she said goodbye
Now my teeth are worn and useless
My eyes too sunk to see
My tongue swelled up to twice its size
and all I want to do is eat my candy
-Candy Presidents of the United States of America

Dirty and Smiling

I was talking to a new friend the other night about how much easier it would be to be *this* instead of *that*. 

To be filthy instead of just a little muddy

To be completely shattered instead of wounded and limping along

To be scared of the outside but still getting up and leaving your house every morning because what else could you do instead of pulling the covers over your head and drifting into oblivion.

This partial brokenness seems to be caught in a limbo of neither redeemed or cast out.
But I don't really understand why.
Because aren't most people caught in that limbo, just putting on a pretty face and dealing with it secretly?

It seems the more I open my mouth and tell people about my damage the more people I see glance around and whisper, "Me too."

I was mad at first. At this legion of people that just never said anything and left me feeling completely alone and adrift.
But then I realized, I hadn't been saying anything of substance either anyway.
I had said things, but they were sarcastic and couched in the, "Oh, well...everyone has something" language.

Now I'm saying, "I don't understand relationships. I would like to have healthier friendships where I don't always feel so less than. This abuse has affected me in a way that infects every relationship and I am incapable of just getting over it and simply not thinking about it every day."

And I hear the whispers of, "me too"

So, maybe we can stop comparing each others brokenness and just get down to the business of helping them pick up the pieces.

Maybe we can face our own demons and trauma and work through them so we can help others along the path to the person God is making them into.
Maybe we can sit with people that aren't rainbows and sunshine happy all the time and just be with them instead of plying them with platitudes and then urging them to just keep silent because the jagged edges scare you.

I'll go first.

I am not an angry girl
but it seems like I've got everyone fooled
every time I say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling
Ani DiFranco - Pretty Girl

Jaded

 My immediate response to chipper people is sarcasm and anger
I snarl the left side of my lip and try to figure out what the hell their problem is, who crapped rainbows on their Rice Krispies.

I swing wildly and uncontrollably between moments of heights of Pollyanna optimism and days of snarky judgemental anger.
It's addicting.
This lull of anger and disallusionment.

I don't want to believe when there are possibilities of good things happening because they will probably not and I'll be upset, let down, hurt.

I wonder if anyone really ever gets to do the job they are passionate about.
I doubt they are really passionate about it or if it's all just a front.

Because I don't believe other people, unless they are angry or snarky too. Then I believe every last poisoneous word that drips out of their mouths.

I feel stuck in a rut with glimpses of flat ground, gasping for air and wondering if I'm just meant to be this girl after all.

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
There's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here no there

Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded
-Soul Asylum Runaway Train

Back Room

I hated going there.
Nothing ever really happened, in the really happened sense.

It just felt wrong.

A bird nose and magnifying glasses
Hands that lingered a little higher and longer than needed when helping me stamp in time.
Hugs that made me establish no touching days with people that gave appropriate length hugs with hands clasping and clutching my upper back instead of my upper ass

Pulling my hair back and moving a thumb down the back of my neck slowly
Resting an arm around a waist while discussing practice charts
Whispering, "You're so special" in a tone that made me wish and hope to be never be anything special at all

A little window and a waiting chair just outside the door may have kept the hands technically within bounds but they were out of bounds all the same.

You were trusted enough for a change of venue to your home
With no small window, no waiting chair

Jumpy and scared I hid behind insolence and refusal to sit anywhere near you until she returned
It was the last time
I got in trouble for being so rude
But it was worth every harsh word to never return to your side again

Earthquakes

I've been crying a lot on my way to and from work lately. I don't know why then specifically. There's nothing going on at work that is upsetting me, in fact from what I can tell life seems pretty stable lately after several tumultuous months.

I think that deep down there are some strong (and therefore scary) emotions churning, just waiting to erupt. My tears alone in the car are like little earthquakes before a volcanic eruption.

Sometimes I can give voice to the emotions. Sometimes I have conversations with people that I believe are scary, dangerous, painful to have in real life. And I cry. I cry because even during the pretend conversations with people I don't have the words. Even in conversations I'm completely in control of because they're pretend I can never find the right things to say.
Even when I control the other persons words and parts of the conversations the other people always turn into bullies. They call me fat, stupid, and ask me why I'm always so ridiculous.And I still believe them.

I'm working on combating the lies I believe. The truths I've been taught and have taught myself are being challenged for the first time. The lies are fighting for survival. They're fighting to keep their hold on my heart and my mind and sometimes they still win.

I would love to think I'm working towards a place where I can have these conversations with people in real life. But....I also think not. Because as much as these people have said they want me to to tell them, as much as they want me to open up to them I don't trust they do.
As I've tried, in my own damaged little broken way, they can't seem to accept what I'm telling them and they just tell me to "figure out how to get past it already". And I wonder if they think I'm not really trying.

I know I should keep trying to open up to them despite their reactions, but I'm battered and bruised and re-experiencing some scary things that I've stomped down for decades and I'm just tired of trying some days.

So I cry in my car on my way to work. Trusting my big ass sunglasses to hide my tears and a tube of mascara in my purse to make my eyes presentable as I talk myself into facing another day.

Why am I feeling so guilty
Why am I holding my breath
I'm worried about everyone but me and I just keep losing myself

Tell me it's nothing
Try to convince me that I'm not drowning
Oh let me tell you I am

The Civil Wars- Falling

Green Eyed

There are moments when your own brokenness and damage come clearly into light.
Moments when something finally clicks in your head and even though you weren't the only one in the wrong that you were in fact wrong.
Moments when the crushing realization that the motives behind your actions, your words, your anger and your hurt are not from a pure innocent place; but from a place of deep jealousy and insecurity.

I don't know about you. But I hate those moments.
Worse yet, those moments make it so much harder for me to offer grace.

Because I've been seething for a long time. But I've been jealous for even longer.
Jealous of the time spent.
Jealous of the easy, casual laughter that I am not a part of by simple geographic fact.
Jealous of things I don't even know are true, just that the green-eyed monster is telling me they are.
Jealous to the point that I wish bad things, that I wish for failure, and defeat.

I want to cut these parts out of me.
They hurt my heart.
You hurt my heart, but this hurts it too.
I find the fascinating thing is that in discovering my own mistakes, I become more open to offering you grace for yours.

Molasses

Sometimes I feel like I'm disappearing into myself.
I can't bring myself to do much anymore, because it still feels pretty unsafe for me to be outside.
I force myself to participate in life and then I retreat exhausted to my house where I have the illusion of safety.

I'm working on getting better. But it's like swimming through molasses with 50 pound ankle weights on.

Facades

"Sometimes the facade becomes the building"

I read that in a book recently. It was about a morning news anchorwoman and what happened when she believed her own hype.
A bit later I was talking to my sister about someone we know that is struggling with the role they molded themselves into and thought of this quote again.

It also made me think about a lot of the things happening in my heart and head lately. I mean, I don't know that there is any hype about me but if there were I'd probably have fallen for it.

I'm torn between wondering if it's who I really am or if it's just a facade of who I've become. I've been getting all twisted up and confused between perception, reality and the gray area in between where life really exists.
I don't mean to sound (or actually be) melodramatic or anything. But the more I try to figure it out on my own the more lost I get in the maze of relational (and real life) paranoia.
I feel like I've been floating above my life somehow and commenting to myself about how nice the life is and how lovely the friends are, wouldn't it be nice if it were true.

It would be easy to say it was because of what happened earlier this year or last spring. But in reality (how ironic is that word) I think this fracture in my facade has been a long time coming.

Because sometimes the facade becomes the building.
Sometimes, even when you can see on one hand that you don't have to be perfect and you don't have to have it all together, even when you are surrounded by a community that lets it all hang out warts and all, you can get caught up in your own hype thinking you need to have it all together.
Sometimes you forget that the grace you so readily explain and proclaim to others applies to you as well.
Sometimes you get so lost in your facade that you believe the lies carved into your heart for years and you believe the whispers of your own mockery coming back to chip away at even your healthiest relationships.
Sometimes you don't believe that anyone could stand to see the building beneath the facade.
Sometimes you feel like there's nothing but a black pit of disappointment and "not good enough"ness hiding beneath and increasingly thin layer of smiles and I'm ok's.

It is so easy to believe your own hype and believe that just getting by, just maintaining your grip on the edge of sanity is good enough. It will do.
But occasionally you get long moments breathing the startling air of grace and freedom from the oppression of the facade and you know it should be, could be, and one day hopefully will be better.

Damaged

Lately I just feel so damaged.
It's easy to say this is why or that is why but it's just become so pervasive in my heart lately I can't hardly see straight anymore.

Sometimes, I feel like I can't even breathe through the damage. It's like I'm suffocating on the brokenness that should have been repaired long ago.

I'm trying not to be to whiny about it, which I know you'll all say "oh no no, it's ok" but honestly I'm sick of my own pissing and moaning.

I just want to fix it. I just want it to be done.
I have some steps that I'm putting into place to hopefully deal with this. Insurance changes at work are making it more affordable (affordable at all really) for me to go to doctors so I'm going to go.
I'm sure that much of the issue is hormonal (sorry boys) but I also know there are some deeper issues that need to be dealt with professionally, and not with a free volunteer type person.

I still just don't feel safe. I feel extra paranoid, left out and alone. I can see that these things aren't true. I can see that the reality is :insert actual reality here: but I don't believe it. I'm feeling like I can't trust the things I see or hear because I'm misunderstanding them or they're just not true and I'm completely making them up.

It all adds up to a lot of withdrawing, a lot of silence and a ridiculous for even me amount of paranoia.
Usually I can fake it until I make it, but I feel like I've been faking it a long time and it's not getting any better. Frankly it's exhausting. So much so that on top of my tendency to sleep and stare away the hours when in a depressive state I'm so exhausted from the moments I rally for social interactions sake I have to nap just to recover.

It's all very dramatic I know.
But the thing is, it's really easy for me to keep telling you I'm ok. Depending on the day I can even mostly believe it myself. However there has been a low and dull throbbing of despair coursing through my veins for months now and I'm just losing my ability to deal with it.

Greedy

I was thinking tonight about how I'm a greedy person.
Not in the sense of money or possessions (although I like both and often have to keep my inner pack rat in check...and I'm not that great at saving)
But I'm time greedy.

It's never enough time, the time spent with you just laughing and hanging out.
It's never enough time to sit on the sofa and veg, pull the covers up under my chin and whisper 'just 5 more minutes'.
It's never enough time to talk about the stupid things, the funny things, the serious things, the scary things.
Good-bye comes to soon for me and I feel dejected and disappointed. As if any fun that was had, anything at all that was accomplished was worth nothing. Simply by virtue that the time had ended.

I feel like an introverted extrovert these days. I, at the same time, am refreshed by time spent with friends and family and utterly exhausted by it.
I long for companionship but after a few minutes I find myself wanting to just be alone again.

Because entering into any situation I know it's going to end.
I fear it will end badly and like a baby I fear when you are out of my sight you are gone for good.
I worry that transitions and life changes mean the end and that we'll never see each other again, or that you'll be relieved to be free of me.
So I hold on tight.
I obsessively think and wonder about the next time we'll see each other, the next time we'll talk, the next time we can do something silly and mundane.

But then I remind myself to relax, and I begin to count the number of times I mention hanging out, I begin to make mental notes of the times I've made the plans and I've made the call and feel I'm pushing myself on you.
So I ration my excitement.
I ration my affection fearing I'm coming on to strong.
I pretend things don't bother me for fear you'll be annoyed with my silly little girl hurt and stop calling back.

Then I broke.
I snapped and shattered and now I can't seem to muster up the energy to reach out anymore.
I don't know what to say.
I know you have noticed. I know you have.
But I sit in stony silence with everyone now. Holding my heart just so, thinking if I just don't make a sound then it will be ok. It might not heal but at least it won't get worse.

What brilliant lies we are told.
What masterful ways we are told that cutting ourselves off from all those that are wanting only to love us in whatever broken way they can will keep us whole.
What a sneaky thief to steal the hope from our hearts, whispering in the night. Pointing out the signs you were to busy greedily collecting time to notice.

The phone call that took a few days longer to return.
The life challenge they didn't think to share with you (Don't you notice how you are left out so much?)
The birthday call that never came.
The shortened visit because other people, other things, were more important than you.

Time passes. Words stop up in your throat and then what is there to say anymore really?
What can help?

What a conniving little devil that slithers around. Whispering how right your little nagging suspicions always were.
They never really loved you, you were only entertaining for awhile.

I never meant to be the one to let you down
If anything, I thought I saw myself going first
I didn't know how to stick around
How to see anybody but me be getting hurt

- Sara Bareilles

Here's the thing....

If I haven't spoke to you AT ALL, not even social media speaking, in like 5 months then who exactly do you think you are to tell me who you think I am?

Not only that. But what gave you the idea to make a blanket statement about something when it is clear you hadn't read farther back than a few posts? See also: you have my phone number or at least access to people that have it. If you're so concerned than get off the internet and call me or something.

Oh, and also. Maybe you should look at your own house before looking at mine.

Wait, one last thing...I think.
It seems that any fairly coherent person with any modicum of intelligence understands that something you type on the internet is just that. Something you type of the internet.
It's forever.
There is no guarantee that it's even true.
And most importantly it is AT BEST only a small sliver of a portion of that persons daily life.

I get that my frustration with you is way disproportionate to the offense but man it hacked me off.