What do you do when the answer is wait. For months now, the only answer I get is wait. I’m not good at waiting, patience is a virtue, but it’s not one I possess. I am grateful for an answer and not silence but waiting is killing me. I obsess and I don’t eat or sleep. I obsess and make myself sick. Wait… I try to find a way around Him. Wait…I try to find something to occupy my time. Wait… my head and heart scream with frustration. Wait. *sigh* Wait, I must.
my heart aches, it continues to break. normal days come and go. demons won’t go away. they merely hide until i think i’m safe. faith fades and then reignites just as quickly. loneliness is my friend and my enemy. being alone comforts and being alone kills. prayers seem insignificant yet necessary. thoughts remain fragmented instead of coherent. ramblings to most, life to me.
I am an expert at sleeping. I can sleep for 12 hours be up for 3 and turn around and sleep another 12. Lately, sleep has evaded me. I’ve had things on my mind. I lay in bed for hours trying to sleep before I go work the dreaded midnight to 8 shift. I miss sleep dearly, like a long lost friend. I try to make sense of the thoughts that float around in my head, the only problem is the thoughts are complete. They start in sentences and end up in fragments. They end in single words…fragments of the fragmented thoughts. My head works something like this:
I feel like an outsider.
All of the compulsive lying and guilt trips
My dad — too much to go into!
I feel Alone! Used! Misguided! Misunderstood!
Alone.
Used.
Misunderstood.
Misguided.
Confused.
Frightened. (future)
Upset.
Angry.
Failure.
Unlovable.
Betrayed.
Failure as daughter, Christian, woman/mother
Melissa, Lesa, Sarah
KERRI
Rebuilding = Frustrating
Want to cry
Only at peace at LPCC
Home is not home
Need more PRAYER!!
How?
NO WORDS!!!
Broken – Fixed = No, on mend
Healing – still pain everyday
Fragmented Happiness
Contentment within reach…
The inner contents of my mind continue to be an enigma… If I could only sift through the thoughts then maybe, perhaps sleep would return and I would feel the peace I felt only a week or so ago.
About a month ago I made a post about myself being a stuffer, which all comes from a book a group of women I study with are reading called Unglued by Lysa Terkeust. I still think you should pick it up and read it some chapters will hit you more than others. Chapter 6 is another one that has got me thinking. That is probably because I’ve been going through the trouble of trying to process my miscarriage and deal with all of those emotions. And I have destroyed relationships and shut down over the past few months. Anyway here is another post on my stuffing…
I stuff because:
I don’t feel safe enough to confront this person
I don’t have the energy or the time to get into a conflict right now
I don’t know how to address the issue
I don’t want to seem hypersensitive
I don’t want to get rejected
I don’t want to lose control
I don’t want to make things worse, so I convince myself I can just let it go
I’m pretty sure every reason she lists for stuffing I have used at one point in my life. The last five months I’ve stuck with I don’t know how to address the issue. Ok, so that is only part of it, the other part is I don’t WANT to address the issue. Lesa has found out that I’m an excellent stuffer and I wait until I can’t stuff anything else in so it all comes spewing out in a mess. And I’ve cried and talked and she just hugs me and smiles and tells me not to stuff to keep it out for the sonshine to touch… and that is DIFFICULT. I’m not one who parades my troubles to the world so I’m selective about who I will talk to about things.
Barriers shut down communication. I have lost friendships because of my stuffing. I lost a dear friend when I found out I was pregnant because she didn’t agree with it and then when I had a miscarriage because she wasn’t really around when I needed to talk. She has tried to reach out a few times, but I’ve put up such a wall from the hurt I felt then I find it difficult to talk to her now. My problem is the barriers I build against certain people affect all of my relationships because when I shut down communication I shut down completely. I shut down to avoid dealing with that problem, and the next problem and the problem that started five months ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if my stuffing and barrier building isn’t killing another friendship as we speak because it is too much for me to deal with my issues and be there for her. Shutting down is just easier for me sometimes. I don’t know how to deal with emotions, I never have. Until recently, I haven’t had people who have made me sit down and take a look at things and process them.
Then prayer she has in the Chapter 6, just the first two lines of God, I’m so tired of being hurt. I’m so tired of feeling distracted and discouraged by this situation. Are words I feel like I’ve prayed a hundred times looking for some relief with no response and I get discouraged by that.
I think I do try to tackle the person not the issues and most of the time I probably do have unrealistic expectations. Being so emotion driven is such a pain… so draining. I find I need to write out and plaster her “Feelings are indicators, not dictators, child. They can indicate where your heart is in the moment but that doesn’t mean they have the right to dictate your behavior and boss you around. You are more than the sum total of your feelings and perfectly capable of that little gift from Jesus called self-control,” all over my room, my car, at work… possibly tattoo it on my forehead so I see it when I look in the mirror.
I know I can have healthy relationships and that I can deal with emotions better than I do. I just need to remember where to look for help and maybe a little more prayer is needed because maybe, just maybe the 101st time I say that prayer I’ll get what I’m looking for.
My chest aches. I don’t know how to breathe and not feel the constant, dull pain. It’s been there for months… for five months. I have put off dealing with the pain and loss, but at some point I have to face it. I don’t want to face it. The more I acknowledge it, the more real it becomes. The constant, dull pain turns into a sharper pain with every breath I take. My stomach turns, my head hurts, my chest aches. I want so badly to fill this void that the miscarriage left. Perhaps another child would fill the void, but I can’t get past the fear of losing another. This could happen all over again and then what… then I would have to figure out how to mourn the loss of another child I would never get to know. Sometimes I think I want to try again maybe it would help. I would be doing things wrong again though, I wouldn’t be married first. I weigh the possibilities… I want the ache to stop. My friends are losing their children too. Is it something in the water? There are too many babies being lost and I have to think to myself that maybe it isn’t worth it. The risk is not worth it at times. Some days I think I’ve made progress, some days I think I’ve forgiven myself, then memories rear their ugly heads and I find I haven’t forgiven myself, I’m not ok. My feelings have been stuffed tightly into a corner of my bruised, weary soul. The hurt and anger hides from the world. I don’t really know how to bring the pain to the surface to let it all go. Where does healing begin? How does healing begin? All I know is the ache in my chest is too much to bear these days. I would give anything for a breath that wasn’t painful.
It’s a short drive, maybe 20 minutes. I’ve driven the path so many times I could probably make it in my sleep. I hadn’t been this way in four months, hadn’t had a reason, didn’t want a reason, in fact, didn’t want to even drive in the general direction. He asked if we could talk. He needed a friend. I couldn’t very well say no, he had been my best friend since we met. I still couldn’t help but wonder if I was crazy though. After all of the tears and all of the pain, I was voluntarily walking into the path of this Mack truck. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I wish I hadn’t remembered how to get back. Why, just why couldn’t the road to the country life wash away…not only from my memory but from right underneath me.
But I remembered, so I pulled into the long drive, parked next to the old, blue Chevy that told you a good, ole country boy lives here and just looked at the sky. I had forgotten how clear…and absolutely beautiful the skies could be out here. It had changed though. It wasn’t the place I remembered. There were too many memories at war for this to be a peaceful return to the country. The walk from the car to the house was longer than I remembered, the wind cut through my skin a little more and the air in my lungs was quickly diminishing. The closer to the now weathered steps I got, the more I wondered if this was a good idea… But he needed a friend. His need for a friendly face and kind words trumped my severe discomfort and the possible and extremely likely days of regret I knew were coming. I was too close to back out and all I could do was knock on the door of a life I once called mine.
It’s been 4 months since I had a miscarriage, 4 months since I lost my job. 4 months since I’ve felt normal. What is normal anyway? People who have been next to me, who have supported me through this entire journey constantly ask how I am… I don’t have an answer because I don’t know. I feel broken, I feel like a failure, I feel angry at times, confused almost always…. And those feelings lead me to say, “Oh I’m ok”, because I really have no idea. In reality, I am still a mess, I’m still recovering. Starting over at the age of 28 was not really something I was planning on doing. It’s still a shock to my system. Right now though there are days that I feel normal. More days that feel normal than feel completely wrong. I still feel broken; some days I’m just a little less broken than others. Thursday was a huge step for me…it was normal, I felt normal. I even talked to Robert and didn’t want to break down into a mess…normal… progress…imperfect progress. I hate the word imperfect. I’m a perfectionist, it has to be right, it needs to be fixed, I need to be fixed… it should have already been fixed. Normal… I wish I knew what was normal these days. I am constantly being reminded that God has a plan for me, I am still standing because of God’s grace, God’s perfect, unfailing grace… His forgiveness… the problem being how do you accept His forgiveness when you can’t seem to find a way to forgive yourself… imperfect… life is imperfect, life is messy and quite frankly it just downright sucks sometimes. Imperfect progress… imperfect life…imperfect actions…imperfect… this perfectionist is beginning to feel like imperfect is the new normal and I’m not a fan…
God has a great plan… or something like that. The past few months, there have been no signs of a plan. There are the pieces of a life scattered about the ground. There are broken bits that were once love, happiness, stability, friendship, faith, family, friends and those bits made up a life… a happy life. And from the outside one would see a quiet, seemingly content life. Those who see that don’t see the scars, the deep cuts on the soul, the wounds that may never heal. There are good days, days life doesn’t seem quite as bad, that hope is awakened in her dull eyes. But the bad days, those are the days to watch out for. The bad days outnumber the good, the tears flow freely from burning eyes, the ache in her chest feels like at any moment her chest cavity will explode, the anger is at the edge of her tongue, dripping slowly just waiting to burst forth and rip into the next undeserving soul who looks at her in a less than caring way. There is no sign of a plan, there should be a hint of a plan, where is the damn plan? Picking up those bits and pieces is more difficult than one would think… is that the plan? Is the plan simply to make yourself look close to the way you used to? Is the plan simply to exist until you once again have faith in a God that you have questioned continually for months? What is the plan? At what point do you figure you maybe aren’t meant for greater things? Right now, there is no great plan. Right now, there is only a small flicker of hope in a pair of dull, life-weary eyes, that simply wants to make it through a day without the pain from memories that sneak up on her…. Right now, she would settle for a mediocre plan that consisted of something that resembles the life she left behind.
Today it rained. The thunder and lightning replicated the angst I’ve felt for months. The wind blew and it’s still blowing… the swirling storm in my soul seems to have finally come to the surface. The storm didn’t last long. The thunder is still rolling and the wind still bending trees, there’s more to come. Something bigger is brewing in the atmosphere. My problems are no longer the biggest thing going on in life. People have died, tears are being shed. An extension of months of anxiety, the only part I played in this is the months of anxiety. Months of knowing things aren’t right, things are off in the universe, knowing something big would happen but not knowing what or when. My fault… not hardly; could I have stopped it… not a chance. It’s not precise, just a general feeling of wrongness. The only problem now… the anxiety and uneasiness isn’t gone. The universe is still off. There are bigger things going on than what happens in Small Town USA, in this insignificant, mundane life. The anxiety will continue, the storm will continue brewing. The thunder and lightning will return with a vengeance. The swirling storm in my soul will continue to pour out until everything has been destroyed. It’s not my fault, it’s the curse, I blame my family. It’s being the 13th great grandchild of the 13th grandchild in a family of Native Americans, it’s the curse of knowing things but not knowing things. Some would call it a gift, but not me. It plagues me, it keeps me awake at night, it goes against my belief system, but cannot be denied. I have flashes, I have seen death, I have seen the dead. It’s not over yet. This one is bigger, this one will take more lives, more time, more of my soul. It’s dark and it’s here. It is strong enough to make my faith in God waiver, to leave me weak in the knees and not knowing what to pray. It’s a curse that destroys my soul.
Currently…
Listening: Who Are You When I’m Not Looking (Blake Shelton), Hard to Love (Lee Brice), Stop the World (Matthew West). Over You (Miranda Lambert)
Eating: pizza (lots of pizza), cheese and crackers, pork burgers & brats
Reading: Imperfect Birds, my dear friend Melissa’s articles and blogs
Wanting to read: Slave by John MacArthur
Really liking: sleep, time with friends, VitaminWater, Edy’s Fruit Bars
Disliking: work, arrogance, inconsiderate people, depression
Discovering: all the imperfections
Looking forward to: hanging out with Jess, a week away from work, time with family
Watching: Criminal Minds, Big Bang Theory, TrueBlood
Drinking: VitaminWater, sweet tea, Diet Dr. Pepper
Wearing: shorts & tanks, Dr. Suess pj’s, hot pink tennis shoes
Wanting: a pick me up, inspiration, fire, love
Needing: light in my life, uplifting words, more faith
The official site of how to-ing.
Daily Thoughts and Meditations as we journey together with our Lord.
My Year As A Volunteer
The search for meaning, one page at a time
The Inner Contents of My Mind are an Enigma 