Category Archives: Faith

To Emma

Empowerment, Essay, Faith, Parenting, Self esteem

For my beautiful girl, I give you these words.

Well, my dear, it may seem this world was never meant for us, not the way it is now, not the way it has been.  But, my Darling, nothing worthwhile was made perfect from the start. Everything craved, lusted for, and containing real value started in someone’s dreams. It took molding and shaping and relentless perseverance on the part of some Great Creator to turn dirt into the smooth painted walls of the cliff.  The dust had to gather and settle and harden, the river had to etch in it it’s name.  That is what it takes to make true beauty and art and you, my precious darling, are art.  They’ll lie to you every day.  You’ll see these lies on television, in movies, on billboards, from sources deemed reputable by leaders and authority.  You’ll hear them in songs and out of the mouths of the ones you trust, but, listen to my voice, child.  Let it ring loudly each time you need it.  I’ll scream it into a jar for you to keep safe.  I will tell you the truth as I’ve learned it the hard way and I’m telling you now that this truth will not change.  You’re beautiful, that’s true, but what can that body do that will last more than a century?  Nothing more than a memory in the minds of those you meet will that body become.  But, your mind is your asset, your strength, your own source of energy and with it you will create poetry and think great thoughts that will be repeated endlessly by others who seek to feel your souls starlight.  Your strength and your will, your wit and your might will travel through time while your body will rot, but not the fruits of your mind.  Your voice will echo forever if behind it you place intentions that are pure and words that are wise. Your soul is sacred and eternal so let it be free and unspoiled, untainted and untethered by the fleeting expectations of a society that is only as valuable as a tear drop in the sea. If you let them smother you with their misguided truth and intentions, you , my sweet girl, will break your own heart.  No one can break it from the outside because, unlike man you are not made of stone but of gold, malleable and soft, precious and rare. As they try to break you, you will bend and stretch under the hammer.  You will sway as their screams of inequality create hurricanes of wasted wind, because some Great Creator that cannot be fathomed made you with a great purpose.  It is one that will remain unexplained until you are capable of understanding it and strengthened enough by experience to head into it without fear while holding His hand with a faith that no religion could contain.  You, my sweet one, are exquisite, far beyond the words of all languages combined.  There is no term for what you will become because they will coin one when you reveal what it is you were created for.  You are capable of creating the future we have fought for and the one you deserve.  The responsibility may seem too great and too heavy and you may falter and fall but never give up, never stay down.  Your spirit is a magnet and others will join you to help you carry the weighty load and together you will become more than the bearers of life but the creators of a world worth living in.  You, my little girl, can do anything and no one can stop you for you are magnificent in a way that transcends their realm of understanding and enters into one that exists to you alone.  You are a dancing and sparkling spirit, affecting change, fortifying the future with goodness and justice.  You are a gift to all mankind and should be treated as such, without exception.  They will try to lessen you and attempt to dull you down and this is the time to take out that jar.  Open it in front of them and the screams of those who’ve fought the battle before you will force them back and deafen them.  They will fall to their knees.  The strength is yours.  The wisdom has been freely given and rightfully earned.  Use it and never forget that your power requires no explanation, justification, or excuse.  It needs only an outlet in the form of a song, an essay, a speech.  Whatever you choose, if you use it well and with grace and love, it will live inside the souls of the ones you’ll save with it, for eternity.  You, my baby, can do anything.  Let no one steal that from you with noise and normality.  With these words I deliver into your hands your own destiny.  In your hands is where it belongs.  Hide it from no one so others may see you and seek you out.  Let them be fortified while taking shelter under your wild wings above.  Teach them to be strong.  You’re more than they’ll allow you to realize, so, I’ll tell you now and repeat it as often as needed.  You are the way forward, the answers, the truth.  Shine bright, little darling.  Be brave, teach others, stay true.  You are the future you’re wishing for.  The entire universe lives inside of you.  Use it.

For starzki on her journey

altruism, Empowerment, Essay, Faith, fulfilment, growth, Humor, Inspiration, love, perspective, principles, Self esteem, values

I thought I’d have this eye opening experience where life and my purpose would just click and make sense…. but here I sit 2 months into the trip of my lifetime, in a random country, where I know no one, and I feel so alone. I have no purpose, no path and it’s utterly confusing.  What am I doing? Why am I here? What am I actually looking for? Did I make a mistake? I’m 100% free from everything I thought I wanted to be free from. Wandering the world like a true gypsy… I belong to no man or no city, yet,
it’s like I’m trying to feel my way through the darkness. Searching for my people/my tribe. The one place I truly belong. Budapest has been the closest I’ve come… and, it scared  me…. they were weird and strange and wonderful and hardly showered, all make love… they lived in an old ruined building that resembled a crack den…. still I ran. With the fear behind me I’d stay forever and miss out on something on that “feeling” I’ve been searching for… the feeling I have no fucking clue what it is or if it even exists. Maybe I just need to embrace that and run straight back into their happy family of weirdness. To the Dirty people who want peace. It sounds right to me! There are too many clean people who want nothing but war.

Still  I feel alone. This loneliness won’t seem to leave. I can never seem to escape it.  Maybe it’s my empathic nature and I’m simply absorbing the loneliness around me is this giant world of truly lonely people. As I look at the man across the room from me and my heart breaks for him. I can feel his feelings, his sadness like I’m drinking them down as I would a glass of water. Consuming every ounce of me. How do I help him? How do I help myself? Literally fighting my own tears back as I try to look into his life. The crows feet around his eye intrigue me. I want to know where he’s been, how old is he, what his stories are that made him laugh that made him cry. The stories behind what brought him here today. Sitting alone drinking a beer.  

Soaking up his energy is hard for me but also inviting and full of pure sadness. 

Andrea

My friends, this woman is one of the most magnificent specimens of selflessness and kindness on this planet. She is genuine and pure and unique. She’s my best friend. One I haven’t seen in years but, I don’t need to in order to know she’s still there. She and I are connected by something real and rare. We are bonded in a way that, unfortunately, i don’t think many will ever feel. She says soul sister. That’s very true.  I don’t know what a soul is made of. I don’t know who gave mine to me. But everything in me knows that hers and mine are very much the same and it kills me when she says things like, “This loneliness won’t leave me alone.” That is beautiful. It’s that kind of absurd irony that makes life so strange and beautiful.

We’ve lived very different lives but have come to the same conclusions on most things. Mostly we believe that there is an overwhelming need for kindness, love, and acceptance on this planet and that we have to work to do something to combat the people in this world who preach the opposite.

Let me tell you about my friend.

She and I grew up in the same area. It was a rural one and most people don’t leave there. We certainly did (although I’m back there for reasons). It’s a lovely place,  as all places are. It is typically the people that screw places up.

During our younger years she and I weren’t that close at all. We were friends but we had different best friends and we were often among different groups of people. When we were both still in high school it seems we simultaneously hit a wall. We each found our own vices to cope with the onset of awfulness that was our emergence into this modern society. I don’t know if she could pinpoint the feelings that drove her to destruction back then. I never asked. Maybe I should have. Mine were fairly clear but took a decade to dig out from.

“I’m not what I’m supposed to be.”

That phrase would ring through my mind over and over again. I spent time trying to conform within my own code of conduct but, none of it ever felt right. I went to college thinking I’d found a path I could live on. That didn’t really work out. She came to see me a few times as she attempted to escape the asylum the world wanted to put her in. That’s not my story to tell but, guys, it’s a good one.

Anyway, when the dust settled after the disastrous teenage years were behind us, we found we were closer than ever. She may have been a teenager still, come to think of it. I don’t really know. I know she’s younger than me but I can never remember by how much. Some reading this may think, “How can you not know how old she is if you call her your best friend?” Well, it never seemed to matter. In high school she was more mature than I was. By A LOT. She taught me the drama and standards of female friendships were COMPLETELY unnecessary. That changed me. Her free spirit punched my free spirit right in the gut with that. I remember thinking, “I don’t have to participate in this nonsense?” I was under the impression that I was bound to that code or I’d be left alone. I thank whoever created our consciousness that she showed me I was wrong. 

I guess you could say, as we figured out more of who we really were, our spirits came closer to alignment within our individual selves and then became closer to alignment with each other as they are so similar. 

I always felt her spirit was a good bit stronger than mine. I had a tendency to draw myself inward and she forced herself out into the fray. She has well developed social skills because of this whereas I hide in my head and behind the keys of a computer in an effort to riddle it all out. 

I had a family and a marriage and I moved away from her and everyone I knew just trying to do what was right and grow into what I thought I should be and what I felt I was being directed to become. She was in a serious relationship with a dude, had a real job, a house, and some dogs. We seemed to be finally fitting in.  

But, it still didn’t feel right.

She called me one day. She told me she wasn’t happy in that spot. The world was so small there. Everything is the same over and over again. The people and the places and the experiences are quite limited when you live in the Midwest. So, I told her to stop worrying about obligations to others if she knew she’d be miserable in those boundaries. I told her to live for herself.

I’m sure she had already decided what she needed to do. That conversation couldn’t have held much weight. She does what she’s compelled to do and it’s magnificent because she’s one of the rare ones who can be trusted to do well with that kind of power.

She moved to the desert of Arizona. I was in the deep south. We spoke on the phone maybe twice a year, but, in those conversations from thousands of miles away, I felt more of a connection to her than I’d felt with any other and in a way that made up for all of what I felt was meaningless in my day to day interactions. Speaking with her refreshed me and made me feel like there was hope for true happiness.

From Arizona her world has only gotten bigger as she’s joined with philanthropic teams to assist those in need. Her world, it just keeps getting bigger.

I can see why she’s lost. We don’t have what is required to travel the paved roads on the maps that seem so popular. Their way doesn’t fill us up. Also, doing what does come naturally and what feels right doesn’t garner us any praise. We are often scorned for our actions in ways that don’t make sense to us. We are asked why we would be kind to certain people. Why would you give so much for someone you don’t know? Why would you do this and that and the other thing? It’s like we are weird and abnormal and strange and, maybe we are. 

There’s a lack of appreciation in a life like that. A lack of acceptance, a longing for camaraderie and, let’s face it, we were taught to need those things. Shaking that bad habit is hard as hell. When you’re an empathetic soul it hurts to watch people hurt each other. When you see an end to all of the useless pain and you’re told it will never work because of old ideas and standards you start to think others refuse to see the future and it’s frustrating and unfortunately, the laws are made in their favor so, you are forced to bend to their will in a lot of ways. It’s a bummer.

Maybe we evolved too early. Maybe it’s harder for us to find the like minded in a crowd because we are a sparse group of folks. Or maybe we were born too late. That hippie culture lingered but it feels like it’s gone. 

Regardless, the answers you’re searching for, my dearest friend, they aren’t out there. They never were. Whatever made us all gave the plan to us when he/she/it made our souls. They were attached to us before we were born so they couldn’t be taken from us. So everyone had a fair shot at happiness and fulfillment. Who you’re supposed to be and where you’re supposed to go and what you’re supposed to do are things you already know and you, precious Starchild, you’re lucky enough to be one of the brilliant ones who doesn’t need to be directed. You’re soul is smart enough and loud enough to drive you there. If you get it wrong something will turn you around. If it doesn’t feel right, walk away. Or run. You’ve been so far and you’ve done so much good.  Your intentions are PURE and your motives are clear.  You’re exactly who and what and where you’re supposed to be. 

If you don’t feel appreciated it is only because most people don’t know how to appreciate you. You’re like one of those stipple paintings that looks like dots up close to people who don’t know well enough to take a step back. You’re just too big for their small views. And that’s ok. Because there are a few exceptional people out there who can see you for all of the glorious good that you are. Don’t be lonely. We feel you there. Alllllll the way over there.

One person’s appreciation doesn’t feel like enough sometimes. Especially when you give so much of yourself without asking for much in return.  Administering polio vaccines and helping to build water filtration systems.  Jeez, man.  You should never have to doubt your beauty and worth.  You should never have to search for validation. But you will have to.  

Some days you won’t feel any love at all. Then you have to look for it and, on the way, you’ll find something that’s going to change you. The next step. It always starts in a moment of discomfort or pain. You’re about to grow wings, you beautiful creature.  Soon enough, you won’t have to look for anything at all. You’ll have found it all inside of you. And you’ll find that there is so much in there that you need not fear sharing it with any and everyone you come across because, if there is one thing I know, people like you never run out of love.  

Love is what fuels you. Love fuels us all and a lot of people replaced it with something else. I’m afraid many have forgotten what it really feels and looks like in it’s many magnificent forms but, you have it in abundance and it’s not going anywhere. 

I imagine you’ve seen things that make your efforts seem small, as exhausting as they have been. They aren’t small. And neither are you. When you reach out your hand or extend your love with that brilliant smile, you plug into another soul. And they bring it to another and on and on and on and, before you know it, your smile improved the whole of humanity. How can anyone feel alone when they start seeing that? It may sound trite but, you’ll see it, if you’re looking for it.  

You’re strong. Smart. Capable. Diligent in an effort to make humanity more positive and pleasant. You’re important. Just because you aren’t “following the rules” doesn’t mean you’re off course. I’m sure there are kids in India who’d be dead had they not met you.  YOU are everything you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you’re supposed to do, exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

I love you.

P.S.

I miss your face

Forgiveness is easy for the emotionally invincible.

Coping skills, Essay, Faith, forgiveness, growth, Judgement, principles

I often thought myself a fool for forgiving so often because people thought I was naive, or full of self doubt, or even that I had been dishonest about events that I claimed had caused me to separate myself from those I chose to leave behind.

It seems to me when someone such as myself refuses to trouble themselves with self preservation-spawned explanations because my self worth and value don’t rely on outside opinions, people tend to fill in the blanks in my silence with their own assumptions.

Their assumptions are often very wrong.

They see a weakness in my forgiveness because they can’t understand how I could do it. 

Until a few years ago I didn’t even understand how I was able to do it.

How is it so easy to forgive?

First I had to understand that forgiveness doesn’t mean I’m unworthy of justice for the harmful things that have been done.

I just don’t have a need to seek retribution for myself.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean things go back to the way they were. 

Some broken things can not be fixed.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean that the bad things didn’t happen.

I remember them clearly. Vividly. Painfully.

Forgiveness is a tool of freedom.

It allows me to empty the tightly packed spaces in my mind and spirit where resentments and anger grow and thrive like bacteria, infecting my consciousness with bitterness and hate.

Bitterness and hate are like poison. They infect my attitude, actions, and mentality. They pour out in words and behaviors on everyone and everything I encounter.

I choose not to allow that type of sickness to live inside of me and I certainly won’t allow myself to harbor it and infect anyone else with it.

Not even by accident in the form of displaced anger.

I don’t forgive because people deserve it. I forgive because I deserve to be happy, joyous, and free.

It helps to see people as they really are.

Making monsters out of men makes the world a scary place.

I don’t believe in bad people and I have never met an evil baby. Most of the “bad” people are just badly broken.

Some will die behaving badly, though.

Some really don’t change.

But I won’t deprive someone the benefit of the doubt.

I won’t deprive someone the opportunity to learn and grow.

They don’t need to do it with me, near me, or at my expense. But I try to avoid an attitude of judgement at all costs.

I was lost once.

I found my “self” was always in me. 

That’s the one thing that never leaves and being okay with who I really am is what made the world worth living in and made me worthy to live in it and be a part of all of its beauty.

Some people are never going to be okay with who they are. I won’t make it harder for them by being hateful or holding grudges.

I truly believe most “bad people” are just in pain, in fear, or lost somehow.

Something I picked up in my religious studies is an idea that no one’s life or sense of comfort is more valuable than another’s. This is why I must set limits while helping others so I don’t allow myself to be destroyed because my life and comfort is valuable, too.

I’m really strong, though.  

Damn near invincible when it comes to spiritual fortitude.

Indomitable.

I also have an incredible sense of who I am and what my value is.

So, forgiveness is easy.  

I feel no need to make people like me.

I feel no need to save face.

I feel no need to be vengeful.

I feel no need to repay suffering.

I feel no need to be right in the realm of public opinion.

Forgiveness is easier for those reasons, too.

Religious philosiphies and spiritual teachings often repeat themes throughout centuries and sects.

One of these is that it is an enlightened person’s spiritual responsibility to teach others the path by showing them the way with their actions. 

The Dalai Lama said, “We should not seek revenge on those who have committed crimes against us, or reply to their crimes with other crimes.  We should reflect that by the laws of Karma, they are in danger of lowly and miserable lives to come, and that our duty to them, as to every being, is to help them rise toward Nirvana rather than sink to lower levels of rebirth.”  

So I forgive them for their harms.

I move forward on my journey toward enlightenment, fortified by my good deeds.

I show them kindness.

In my kindness they can breathe for a moment. 

In that breath they may find rest or peace.

In that moment of calm their chaotic mind may unfold.

In that clarity they may find the way forward.

I forgive because it is my duty to myself and to the world.

I forgive because it strengthens and soothes my soul in the way that vengeance and anger briefly satisfies some who may not feel connected to their spirit, or their consciousness, or whatever it is that they believe it was that created them. 

I forgive because forgiveness is helpful.

I forgive because forgiveness is good.

What I learned at the lemonade stand.

Essay, Faith, Judgement, Parenting, Religion

My children and I ran a lemonade stand yesterday.

So many lemons died. Mourn these poor lemons.

Anyway. I learned a lot during the process.

We set up shop in an empty parking lot adjacent to a church. I learned some things about some church folk that day.

A group of people who came over thought it appropriate to immediately kill the joy of this experience by criticizing my 7 year old son’s business model. They repeatedly mocked him for charging only a quarter per cup of fresh squeezed lemonade. As they stood by us and their other church friends came over they would laugh at my son and his choice to charge what he was charging.

The night before we set up his stand I had gone over the logistics with him. I told him all about covering costs and what his competitors may be charging. Etc. Etc.

I told him I thought 50 cents a cup was more than fair. He thought that was too much. He wanted to charge 10 cents. We settled on a quarter.

My children were engaged in every step of the process. They squeezed lemons. They made the sign. They helped set up and they operated the stand entirely after it was operational.

Here is my younger boy doing some excellent and enthusiastic advertising.

I told the older boy that I’d like him to offer free lemonade to police officers and soldiers. He smiled immediately at the idea. After the younger ones finished coloring the sign he added to it. He wanted to write “free for heroes” but I wasn’t sure that everyone would know what he meant.

His intentions to run the stand were never about money. He wanted a new experience. He wanted to make people happy.

As the crowd of critics mocked him I ended their battery of his innocence by saying, “We aren’t doing this to make money. We’re doing this to make people happy.” They quieted down. Thank God.

What surprised me was that these people had literally just walked out of church. Only a small clearing of grass separated our lemonade stand and their place of worship. Somehow in the short distance between those doors and my children’s lemonade stand they had lost their perspective on generosity and morality. Maybe that isn’t what they’re learning there. It certainly wasn’t their focus in the moments directly following their Sunday morning service.

They had gotten into his head though. After they left my son asked for a pen. He was thinking about changing the price on the sign. I gave him one, but I also told him I thought it was important to follow his heart. I told him he should stick to his decision and not let the opinions of others direct his choices.

I added, “What if a very thirsty person came to get a drink and they didn’t have much money?”

I have never been more proud of my son.

He said, “I would give it to them for free.”

I have to admit there was a strategy in the back of my mind that wasn’t entirely altruistic. My approach relied on people rewarding them for the good they were doing.

I knew that if good folks saw these three adorable children under charging for a quality product that their generosity would prevail.

Not one person left that lemonade stand without paying at least a dollar. Had these children charged 50 cents that is probably all they would have gotten during more than one transaction. Some of these people saw the innocence and philanthropic nature in these kids and paid 5 dollars a cup.

I wasn’t counting on that reaction. I wasn’t trying to be manipulative.

But, I know people.

We haven’t counted the money yet. It’s still in the piggy bank. The kids haven’t asked about how much they made even as the container of their earnings sits out in the open, in plain sight.

That isn’t why we did this.

By the end of hour one, outside in the hot hot Alabama heat, I was the one waving the sign by the highway while the kids sat in the shade. The big boy had set his hours of operation. He said he wanted to stay 2 hours. An hour and a half in he wanted to quit. I told him he needed to stick it out. He had set his hours and he wasn’t going to be clocking out until he had put in his time.

This wasn’t about money. It was about much more than that. Ethics, altruism, workmanship to name a few.

It’s a shame that a few religious folks sullied the joy in the occasion and tried to destroy what I had set out to do. They tried to realign my children’s value system with their own.

The really sad thing is, these types of folk will always tell my kids that they’re better than they are because they go to church and have a religion, one they don’t actually put into practice.

That mentality caused me some pain in the past. I hope my kids don’t suffer the same.

My kids did something great yesterday. I sincerely hope they realize that their actions mean much more than the words and religious status of a few misguided others.

They were honest in ethics.

They were generous and polite.

They were hard working and diligent.

They are far better people at 7, 5, and 3 years of age than the so called “Christians” who walked out of that church and over to us that day.

I’m incredibly proud of them.

I’m certain the Higher Power that cares for them is, too.

Persecution 

Coping skills, depression, Empowerment, Essay, Faith, Humor, Inspiration, Judgement, Self esteem, Trauma

The mentally ill or those who are assumed to be, have suffered under unfair persecution since they started diagnosing people with mental defects. A good portion of them are just people who think in a way most “normal” people couldn’t hope to.  Or folks who feel emotions in a way that your typical person doesn’t understand. It takes a good bit of time to learn how to harness that kind of power. Warning, you’ll probably get locked up in the process. 

A friend of mine was recently put into an asylum because he said some things on social media that his paranoid parents didn’t understand. He had been in mental health units before so, each time they attempted to put him back in, his previous visits made it much easier to accomplish that.  Unfortunate. This is how most get trapped.

Google a list of reasons someone can get locked away in the state you live in. I did. What I learned is that we should basically all visit a behavioral medicine unit to be evaluated at some point. We are all absolutely insane based on the lists I’ve been browsing. And, if at any point in time you have taken an anti depressant or any type of psych med you are GOING IN THE NUT HOUSE. All it takes is one person to do it in some places and they require absolutely no proof of their accusations to stick you in there. What. The. Hell. Man?

I had depression when I was younger. It was trauma based, situational, never a chemical imbalance. I was too young to understand what had been done to me and what I had been through and what is still happening unfortunately. One doctor said I was bipolar for a minute. Turns out that, according to most psychiatrists I’ve spoken to, it was highly unethical for him to drastically change my previous diagnosis from years before just a few weeks after my mom died.  F****d my life up, big time.

 After seeing me for as little as five minutes he decided I needed to take handfuls of pills that my brain didn’t really need. I didn’t lose my mind, though I should have, after having someone stomp on it with pharmaceuticals for nearly a year. As it turns out he is known around town for being the “go to guy” to get benzo prescriptions. 

Why did this happen?

Plans. Plans I didn’t understand until now.

Some were drafted by men while other plans were typed up by God himself. I’m just gonna go with it.

Some people won’t let you escape some situations. They’ll do everything they can to drag you down with them. I don’t understand these people.  I don’t understand modern psychology. It’s no mystery at this point in our evolution that, we as a society, REALLY like pills. That’s enough of that now, people. It’s been said out loud by millions of people billions of times and it is still happening. 

Compare it to this scenario if you will; suboxon and methadone don’t make you not a drug addict. They make you addicted to suboxon and methadone.  

I understand folks with severe mental illness do need a little chemical leveling with the help of some of these medications but, holy hell, how did every bored housewife get a prescription to Ativan and Xanax? What is happening?

It’s become the answer. It is far from the solution. Especially in young ones. I was 16 when I was diagnosed with depression after I met 3 requirements on a vague 10 question checklist. They put me on Prozac. That was one of the only prescriptions the medical doctor who prescribed it knew of. Ahhhhhhhh. Run away, young me! Run awaaaay!

In all honesty I was struggling with childhood trauma. And I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I didn’t mention a word of it to anyone until I was 17. It spilled out of me when I was drinking. Had I just been honest about the issue and open to discussing it I could have avoided years years years of misfortune. Most recently at the hands of some people who have decided to use the unfortunate incidents of my past to make themselves feel better about some stuff. I won’t go into detail about them. They aren’t important.

I have encountered this story before, though. I recognize a few familiar faces in the stories I find myself relating to during this trying time. They are out there in great numbers. Most have good intentions but, some don’t.  They use your history of mental instability to keep you unstable. To get out of trouble by making a case against you to cast doubt in a judge’s eyes or in the community opinion pool and make you look insane. They do it to gain control. Sometimes they want control because they are legitimitely afraid of you. Sometimes they overreact and fear that because you are capable of feeling strong emotions that would topple and cripple them that you will hurt yourself. Sometimes they just want to get out of trouble and your imagined insanity is a pretty good excuse.  No amount of evidence after the fact would do once they have painted a picture of you as a crazy person. Not when what you’ve been through is seen as a defect by most. Guess who was crazy. Van Gough.  Dude cut his ear off and stuff. He died poor and now he is seen as a visionary genius. I know that isn’t commonplace. I’m not saying I am him or like him. I don’t think I have what it takes to cleve off my own body parts. Ears are important. I’m keeping both of mine. 

Sensitive and traumatized folks need to be careful of the company they keep, though. It’s no mystery that a good portion of the people we meet are up to no good. I’m not being paranoid. I’m not an idiot, though. I see them. I avoid them. Or I fall in love with them because apparently I’m an idiot. I’m gonna save them! Ha! Nope. Doesn’t work. Moving on.

Some will use your supposed weakness to try and keep you weak. They don’t realize how much strength you had to have to make it out. 

Some are burned by the fire while others are fortified by it. 

Mental illness of the past just became a weapon in someone’s hands. Good thing I made it through that “illness” because I gained a very special skill set and strength that folks like them will never know. They couldn’t hold the weight of what I’ve learned if they raised an army to help them hoist it.  
Show me your army. My two marines and myself should do just fine against them. Ooh rah.

Huh?

Rah.

My friends used to call me Rah. Makes sense now. 

I dislike the injustice. Guess what! Justice doesn’t truly exsist here on Earth. We developed systems of order. We did that. Humans. Those systems are made up of people. Peopley people. There are some REALLY peopley people out there. Depending on all of the variables, sometimes those people fail to see the truth. Or they do and they can’t do anything about it because of the way the system that people made is designed and the limitations of the people in charge of it or the circumstances and quality of the people who represent other people. Etc. Blah blah blah

 People.

They’re fallible.

That means they make mistakes.

Good thing this isn’t the plain of exsistence I’m concerned with. My spirit has much further to travel. I fear for those who limit themselves by conducting themselves in a way that the really humany humans have told them they should. It’s like they can’t even feel the souls they carry anymore. They certainly don’t hear them. 

Don’t call me crazy for speaking of talking souls. Some call it your conscious. I have my own ideas. Having my own ideas and having a place to speak about them without being told I’m insane before I can explain is really nice.

I like it here.

I wanna live in this blog.

People like me fear our emotions and our thoughts like that. We have to carefully monitor what we do and say. We know how easy it is for you all to stuff us in a padded room because we make you uncomfortable. Or because it is just easier to ignore us. Or because you want something and if you make people believe we’re insane no one will listen to us.

I never had a desire to kill anyone or myself. But my emotional capacity scared people who weren’t capable of withstanding the emotional currents I had to force my way through. Those stormy seas were difficult to navigate and to survive. 

People like me are taught not to trust. They call our avoidance of people “social anxiety” or something like that. Pfft. Honestly, hun. I was usually just afraid of many of you because of what many others have done. 

“Normal”. Yuck. “Popular”. Eeewwwww. “Sane”. Like anyone even knows what that means anymore. 

I didn’t like to run with the herd. When you join a mob of anything you’re not allowed to use your brain anymore. You have to start thinking and doing and eating and wearing and talking about and WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER! Not my thing. I gave it a good try but that crap got me in trouble. I wasn’t in the “wrong crowd” either. All crowds are the wrong crowd for me, to be honest. Too many rules that don’t make any real sense. I like what I like. I like who I like. If I get fat at some point I can hide until I’m cool with my new skin and adjust to my newly super-sized and awesome self and no one misses me in the meantime. It’s pretty awesome. 

We learn to live without flocks of friends and followers. We don’t need approval. We don’t need to be told we are right. We develop clear and powerful internal moral standards and compasses. We stand alone often because mob mentality doesn’t make any man or woman right. And it is downright dangerous, historically speaking, to think like that. So, we avoid the mobs. They ask us to think like they do and we can’t. I won’t.

When a person like me finds their way out of the pain that once pinned them down in an overwhelmed and panicked state, getting through things that would cripple most humans seems easy and almost effortless.  Just allow me a moment alone to let myself feel what is natural. Let the waves roll. I don’t fight against them anymore, I ride them to safety.
Then it’s done. The pain is there in a smaller sense but it’s not as bad as pain I once lived in for years on end. It’s not as bad as it was when it began. Shortly, it goes away completely because, at some point, I realized that pain does pass. 

When I was younger I didn’t know that. When people kept telling me I was sick I thought the pain would last forever. 

“I have what now? An invisible disease in my brain that may or may not require medication that could possibly make me want to kill myself even though the only reason you’re prescribing it to begin with is because I’m sad? What? The f**? Sense? My brain wants my body to die? What? This person says my brain wants my body to die. There’s a demon in me. This book says that’s basically what’s happening here. I drew that conclusion. Yes. That is a summary of my own, but, you read the literature and tell me that’s not what they’re saying, friend in 10th grade. We will figure this out together. We are soooo much smarter than alll of the adults. There is some type of mythical beast inhabiting parts of my brain that doctors and scientists don’t understand and it’s possibly gonna be there until I die. Soon probably. Based on these statistics. F***ing gnomes up there or something. Sh** is unbelievable. I thought I had PMS but apparently I was mistaken because the medical doctor who knows very little about brains wants me to take a pill that could possibly make me want to kill myself. I guess if it’s one type of beasty up there it gets weaker with the pills but if it’s the other kind of beasty it is going to, like, hijack my synapses and do some type of pod people sh** and I’m gonna wake up covered in blood and have no idea how I got to the couNtRY OF CHINA! WHAT THE LITERAL F***.”  

El fin. That was fun. Thanks for playing.

I was a child. A traumatized one. The trauma was my secret. Then ALLLLLLL of that pubescent nonsense rattled around in my immature brain like a barbed bouncy ball, ripping squishy magical brain bits to shreds.  I wanted to give up but I never could. Today I learned why.  

People are people and they’re not perfect.  They make mistakes. Sometimes it isn’t fair. Sometimes you suffer and no one seems to care. Even if they do care, sometimes, they just don’t have the power to do anything about it. 

Most people are afraid. Mostly of what they don’t understand. To protect themselves they pretend to know everything and only listen to those who agree. Such is life.

I’m not focusing on fair anymore. It is absolutely exhausting. And what people think is of no concern to me. Those who do know me, the important people, they know what’s real and what’s not. 

Most importantly, I know.  Every moment of excruciating sadness served a purpose. A sense of self without limitation or expectations. Without the need for approval or a single soul to agree.  My goal is not as near sighted as it once was. I can see into the distance now.  The world is HUGE. The universe is even bigger. God only knows what is out there and beyond all of this. I feel strongly that a true judge is watching. He/she/it knows. Knows every damn thing. Men are too easily fooled. By men I mean humans and not specifically things with penises.

 Every single thing mattered. I absorbed it all with my eyes, heart, and mind wide open and humility and awareness to help me accept some facts about the world that taste bitter and feel cruel.  Can’t taste the sweet without the salty, though. 

Ah, the yin and the yang.

I’ve been pinned down for some time now. The struggle isn’t over. Most of the pain I felt earlier today was selfish and naive. It took only hours for me to heal my wounded heart by recognizing the true source of my emotions and allowing myself to feel what I felt was appropriate under the direction of my moral code.

 Writing this has helped. Talking at my sister always helps.  Being reminded of what is in the distance helped. Realizing my strength helped.

Perspective. Hard earned maturity. Conquer over greater tragedies strengthened me for this.  It doesn’t take long for me to find order in chaos. Mostly because I refused to give up when many would have, and many did. Knowing myself well enough to give my good qualities the steroids and to tell my bad qualities to sit down and shut the hell up has become extremely useful. 

I knew I would have to fight harder. I’m outnumbered. My history has scars on it. I don’t catch breaks.  That’s exactly what made me strong enough to do this. 

I long for the day when the science of psychology improves. When they realize that medicine makes some people worse and that therapy isn’t enough for some and all of that helpful stuff that lies in the middle somewhere. 

Etc. Etc. Etc.  

For now, we are guinea pigs. How could anyone take a face like that seriously? I got off of the wheel and out of the cage, though. I’m just trying to find a way to safe pastures before a snake eats me.  

I’m a woman with faith in action.  My Higher Power will get me where he needs me and I finally have the self worth and sense of self to be confident that I know what I am and what’s best for me.  I fought through a lot to gain that knowledge. I’m keeping it because I earned it and I deserve it.

 I’m sure this post will be widely misinterpreted by a few lawyers in particular and entered into evidence, too. Hi there. 

If you don’t know me and you are reading this, I’m writing this for you, not them. 

The one thing that helped me out of the cage was realizing my true nature, accepting it, owning it, building up the good and working to turn the bad into more good.  

I know my super power now. All of us “crazy” people have one if we live long enough to develop it.

Mine is my protective nature. Anyone who really knows me knew that about me before I was able to admit it. I wandered along looking for someone to protect me for too long. Instead of giving me what I wanted, my Creator taught me how to protect myself and reminded me again today, when the man in the black robe did what he was required to do by giving someone he didn’t know the benefit of doubt. I was swiftly reminded of who I am really here to protect. And it’s not myself. 

Justice for me doesn’t really matter. I don’t need it. I was upset at first but not because of the obvious. My brain doesn’t work like that. I hated the smug illusion that was created at that moment.  But, I was quickly reminded of what was really important. That something isn’t me either.

I’m important. Don’t get me wrong. But I matter to a larger thing now that I don’t limit myself to accepting and craving the Itty bitty thing a lot of people are obsessed with fitting into and obeying. That infinite thing showed me we’ve all got a cozy little spot somewhere. We all matter. At different times, different places, different ways, etc. That won’t make sense to some. Those of you who do understand it have probably seen some sh**. And I’m glad you made it out. Keep going.

I started writing this to work out the clutter. My mind is like an enormous library. At one time all of the books were on the floor. They’re on shelves now. I’m still trying to organize them. This is one section of my life’s collective knowledge that I have dusted and alphabetized. 

With every word I write here I explore another chapter and I let you read it too. I hope you benefit from it.  If I had read words like this when I was young things may have been different for me. 

There were no blogs back then because I am, indeed, a dinosaur according to you young people. 

Just kidding I’m 32. So I’ve seen some really cool stuff happen. Really bad stuff too. When I was originally diagnosed with depression the internet had only just begun. Encyclopedias gave clinical definitions. I didn’t relate much to the elderly male psychiatrists I encountered so I didn’t trust them to know the whole truth which is why I’ll say what bears repeating. 

My struggle is something I will continue to share with any and all of you. Every bit of it will come out in time. It would be selfish of me to keep it all hidden in fear or shame as I know that all I needed when I was young was something to relate to. 

A word, a face, a poem, a book.  

Something happens when you feel unusual, outnumber, overwhelmed, and alone.  In those times we are most likely to give up. People have a lot to learn about folks like me.  They could learn a lot FROM folks like me too.  

We’ll get there. You’ll get there. Maybe I’ll get there too.  In the mean time, my faith is in myself and my Higher power because people are full of faults and often fail.  We’re made that way so people are just a silly thing to have faith in.  

 I stopped asking them to save me long ago. No one will fight harder for me than I will. At one point I just didn’t care enough about myself to do that but now, I do, that has made me unstoppable. 

There are bumps. BIG ONES. That sh** will HURT!  I learned today that as long as I don’t turn those bumps into mountains I was meant to climb and not carry, I will make it to the other side. 

I heard that saying for the first time this year.  “These mountains you were carrying, you were only meant to climb.” Najwah Zebian

Today it made sense in every possible way that I am currently capable of understanding. 

I hope I can explain what I mean by that someday but I need you to take from it what you need to go further.

Someday people who call themselves normal and sane and even the ones who look good on paper but behave like beasts behind closed doors or when you get in their way will have as little power over you as they do over me at this point in my life. 

The battles are long, exhausting, and you will lose sometimes. You will also lose people you really love. But, if you give up at any point it takes longer. If you give up completely you won’t get there at all. 

Don’t let it all out in front of anyone you don’t trust. Don’t trust anyone that you are suspicious of because your intuition knows things and somehow sees beyond the lies they tell and walls they’ve built. The key to that particular super power lies somewhere in the magical squishy brain bits that haven’t yet been explored and defined. Maybe. Or maybe that’s what our appendix is for. Who the hell knows really?! Not me! That’s for sure.

Someday we’ll know more about the brain and trauma. Mostly because they experimented on us. Some of us have had to pay dearly, over and over again. Some of us lost our lives.  

It is getting better out there, though.  I can see it improving even within my own limited lifetime. I think it’s because we aren’t hiding anymore. 

They have to feel they understand us to be comfortable. I feel safe airing it out now from here, on the other side of the pain. If you’re still in it, anonymity is necessary at times but in the safety of a legally bound psychiatrists office let them know every piece. I wish I had.  

I hid for too long. Gave one doc a bit, another got a different portion, etc.  By denying a trusted and qualified and intelligent professional the whole picture I only prolonged my sadness. They wouldn’t have thought as negatively of me as I did of myself. They wouldn’t have called me crazy like I had feared they would. They would’ve known the problem and the way to help me through it.  A few moments of discomfort at the beginning would have remedied and prevented decades of discomfort and desolate pain.

So.

That’s done.

Bye
 

 

The self righteous be damned

Essay, Faith, Judgement, Quote, Religion, Self rigbteousness

Hell is surely saturated with the self righteous believers who’ve forgotten that the power to judge isn’t theirs. 

They break the laws commanded by their God/Gods, damning and condemning any who’ve chosen an alternate path.

They seem too busy passing hateful gossip and angry words to others to see that they themselves have dark and deadly souls.

They’re so focused on the imagined sins of others that they forget their own and repeat them constantly

They’re too blind to learn a lesson from the misdeeds they didn’t notice or feel themselves commit while their eyes were trained on others.

Their justifications, so well rehearsed, prohibit them from growing or moving forward toward the Nirvana they’re certain they deserve but never allow themselves to earn.

They’re so involved in their religions that they don’t see wrongdoings done. They don’t see their need for salvation feeling they’ve been adequately saved.

Going through the motions in their rituals and readings. They feel satisfied with their attendance and their memorization of man’s words.

Salvation never finds them as they refuse to walk in wisdom. Their souls will be lost to darkness as they watch the one’s they’ve damned rise into the light. What a blow to their pride that will be.

They suffer very little as ignorance truly is bliss. But life is only temporary and they will find their pain deep in the abyss of whatever Hell they believe in.

Repentance is half hearted. Kindness is barely known. Virtue is undiscovered as they boast of good deeds done with personal gain expected, never realizing their selfish nature.

Righteousness is their reputation. They make sure to tell you so. They will spend hours attempting to convince you of it as they have their hands around your throat.

The self righteous will be damned before any of the rest as they forsake their Creator daily by refusing to walk with the knowledge they have so well rehearsed.

All of the years spent memorizing the documents, supposedly knowing the meaning in the lessons, are spent in constant lies aimed directly at their Creator as they behave as if they’ve never read a word.

They use morality as a weapon or a shiny cold distraction instead of attaching it to their deeds and words as is intended in their holy book’s verse.

These souls are the most unfortunate as they won’t realize until it’s too late. Even then they’ll be so unfamiliar with true dignity and grace, they simply won’t know what to do.

They won’t have a chance to stop the descent. They’ll be utterly unprepared. Surprise and dissapointment will bludgeon their souls as they spiral downward engulfed in the pain they created for others.

They will be buried eternally in the crimes they’ve committed by harming every soul they were meant to save but instead they condemned them in trade for bolstered pride and ego and the need to feel a sense of superior intelligence in areas of life where facts can’t be applied.

I hope they feel enough satisfaction here on Earth in the time they were graciously given. I have a feeling they’ll not be given the opportunity to feel that way again when true judgement befalls them by the only one qualified to pass down the condemnation they have so frequently and fraudulently beaten their fellow man with.

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I will never quit

Abuse, Coping skills, Empowerment, Essay, Faith, Inspiration, Self esteem, Trauma

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I was once a quitter.  Overwhelmed with anxiety and sadness,  I gave up on myself constantly.  I didn’t value my own life enough to fight for it. I begged God to get me out of it or to make it better.  The work it would take to repair damages done seemed insurmountable so I had a tendency to give up before I had even begun.  No attempt to improve was made,  as I felt completely helpless and terrified.

God took care of it for me though.   My Creator gave me a reason to fight in the form of innocent’s that needed guardianship and unconditional love. 

At first I began to live for them only.  Soon I found that life could be more than just being a mommy as I began to learn my value as they grew, proving myself capable of determination,  diligence,  and dutiful selflessness. I proved I was a better person than I had ever given myself credit for when He/She gave me a job I couldn’t quit.

When I was younger the pain made no sense,  it just hurt. It hurt so tremendously that pain outweighed any type of pleasure and I felt as if I’d suffocate beneath it as it was a stifling and ever present, debilitating nightmare I woke with and dreamt of every day,  every second of my life. I felt it would last forever, never realizing that life itself was temporary.

I am one who searches for reason.  A logical explanation was nowhere to be found.  I hurt myself physically to put a face on the pain inside.  I tried to take my own life once or twice.  But,  when I was given the charge of taking care for these defenseless young souls,  all became clear and my pain washed away in bits and pieces. Their birth was a baptism of sorts for me. My sins and the sins of all of the others that had stained my skin for decades detached one by one and floated away with the current in a river, fresh and clear.

I wasn’t able to quit living,  even in my darkest times.   I would attempt to meet my end and immediately regret it. I saved my own life a few times. I somehow knew there was more ahead of me. I somehow knew my time in this realm was not yet over. I somehow knew there was a job to do and hope for me to fulfill my purpose someday. In those indescribable inklings I found hope. Hope. It’s a powerful thing.

I think my searching for explanations for the tragedy and trauma was what kept me in such incredible pain. I needed answers and solutions and was constantly frustrated with the lack of justice and fairness. Living in that mentality kept me lost and lonely. I was living inside of the moments that tormented me, unable to move forward and heal.

I realized something when necessity for triumph found me. I realized something that changed my life.

All of the years of dwelling and depression, searching for a savior and waiting for someone to pay for what they’d done, I was allowing them to hurt me continually. What they had done had lasted only a few hours of my life in total. Once they finished, their part in the damage was done. Though their deeds were dirty, all of the years of terrible pain that followed was something I was causing myself. I was allowing my abusers to abuse me everyday, over and over again, every minute of my life by refusing to let it go.

I set myself free, not needing an explanation or repayment. I let myself live when I decided to move on.

I will never give up on myself or my life again because now I have realized my power and have gained the humility to also recognize and conquer my weaknesses, turning them into assets and character strengthening traits.

I will not quit. I may falter and I may fall, but I can’t stay down. My Higher Power sent me down this path, one that required no outside salvation. When I search for my heroes inside of my memory, the one most frequently seen is the one that appears in the mirror before me because she made the decision to gwt up and go on.

I won’t give up. It does no good. Brief rests are taken during the struggles and I see myself sitting on a log in the forest, climbing a mountain trail during those times. But the climb continues, always. I won’t lay down and die just to pass whatever pain I feel on to those who love me.

I will never give up. I will never lose hope. As long as I have the breath in my lungs and the ability to breath it, I will continue on.

Dad

Essay, Faith, Parenting, Relationships

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I’m a single mother now.  This is new for me.  Sort of.  I was prepared.  I knew it was coming.  Even still,  I sit here,  exhausted. 

Three kids,  one woman,  and my 66 year old father.  We live in a trailer.  I’ve recently applied for food stamps.  I’ve been a stay at home mom for 10 years so the job hunt isn’t really panning out at the moment.  I’ve even applied for fast food and chain mega stores.  No word. 

We won’t starve due to the generosity of my daddy,  my hero.  We won’t be homeless either because of his kind heart.   But,  he’s not responsible for these kids.  I am.  I feel like a leech with three baby leeches attached to me just SUCKING EVERY BIT OF LIFE OUT OF THE OLD MAN’S BONES.  Christ. 

I have an abundance of faith helping me sleep at night and my father shares the same virtue so he walks around sharing the same smile I wear.  Which is nice. I just can’t help but wonder when I see him mowing my lawn,  when will he get his day of rest?  

He loves helping us.  He was born to serve.  A United States Marine in his teens and a dedicated father throughout my life.  He’s amazing.  It’s his birthday tomorrow.  I have nothing to give him.  He won’t expect anything but I feel bad,  nonetheless. 

When I’m exhausted it’s become a tendency of mine to focus on the plight of others because sometimes I’m just too tired to be optimistic and focus on the good stuff. Its everywhere.  It’s easy to see.  It’s all around me literally screaming in my face but when my wretched soul gets weary,  I have a difficult time focusing on it.  It’s just easier to look at the struggles of others and feel grateful in that sense while doing whatever I can to help them rise as altruism is a state of mind most fulfilling.

And my father,  he’s the closest.  The nearest and dearest. Someone who has sacraficed great things and has basically been forced out of retirement to help myself and my children survive.  He’d never complain.  He doesn’t show any sign of pain.  Much of the empathy I’ve felt for him is based on what I would feel in his situation and have surmised.

The thing most unfair for him in this situation isn’t in the work,  physical labor,  or financial worry.  He has watched his daughter suffer,  too long,  too great.  As a parent myself,  I can tell you that sh** hurts.   I would do,  and have done, incredibly painful things to make sure my children won’t suffer but,  sometimes we’re helpless in the struggle to keep our kids safe.  Sometimes,  they’re in God’s hands and it hurts like hell to turn over that control.  To allow an angel to guide and guard them.  To let the Creator form and mold them through pain.  It hurts.  It hurts like hellfire. 

My entire family feels helpless.  They’re so far away.  Here I am,  fighting for my life, and they can’t reach me.  But,  I believe I was meant to do this mostly on my own.  I have had tremendous help and support.  We’d be homeless and hungry without my father.  But,  for the most part,  this fight is mine to wage.  I’m not alone in it.  The back up and support I’ve received has been life saving and some of it has rained down from God Himself.

Tomorrow is my Father’s birthday.   I have nothing material to give him.  So instead of material nonsense,  I’ve decided to gift him with words.  They’re all I have to offer,  as usual.

I have always been a daddy’s girl and a tomboy.  I followed him around the garage with eager ears as a child.  He taught me to fix things,  properly,  to last   and to be reliable.  Most of all,  he made me laugh. That has been an invaluable gift for me throughout my life,  as I often found it difficult to smile from the inside.  

If I had a question,  and I had many,  he always had an answer.  Sometimes he made the answers up entirely,  as I discovered when I learned to read,  but with his willingness to be ready with these responses,  often humorous,  he showed an attentiveness and interest in my learning that created this knowledge thirsty beast I’ve always been. He never shushed me or turned me away,  he always answered.  He always answered with a proud smile. 

He worked hard everyday and he did it for us and refused to carry stress into our home.  He didn’t have the heart to punish me,  rarely ever raised his voice.  He was wrapped around his girl’s little fingers and he didn’t care who knew.  

He loved my mother,  with all his heart.  For a little girl,  that’s an important thing to see. He treated that amazing woman like the queen she was,  every day,  every way,  until the day she died,  he never left her side.  He made it damn near impossible for my sister and I to find any man good enough for us as he treated us all so well.   But,  he also taught us that we didn’t need to go looking because within ourselves we would find everything we would ever need. 

As a child,  his life story amazed me.  I couldn’t believe anyone could be that good and that strong.  To briefly sum things up,  as if I’m any good at that,  he’s a total badass with a soft heart and selfless nature.

He left his family when he was 15.  Never graduated high school,  dropping out in the 9th grade,  but he had to take the military intelligence test twice because he had such a high score that they thought he had cheated.  He enlisted in the Marine Corps as a minor and went to Vietnam as soon as they could send him.  He stayed for over 2 years in that jungle.   He hasn’t said much about his time there.  The veterans of that war rarely do.  He came home to cruelty and dishonorable treatment, but he still went where directed as an honorable man does,  battling forrest fires with his fellow soldiers.   They were the only cats crazy enough to drive into the flames.  Thank God for brave men like my father.

He had some wild years then.  Some turbulent ones.  I understand it all too completely.  And his understanding of my trying times was something that kept me alive.  There was real empathy there,  between him and I,  and it was the only thing that made me feel I wasn’t alone.  It kept me from giving up when he’d tell me,  “You’re strong and you’ll make it through this.” I KNEW he knew.  I KNEW he felt it.  I KNEW he meant what he said and even though he had to say it hundreds of times,  those words, from him, never lost their meaning.  His words saved my life,  many times.

He has always been present.  He has always been kind.  He has been my biggest fan and comedian during very dark times.  He’s come to my rescue every time that I’ve called,  even if the best thing to do was to make me suffer my own consequences.   He had, and still has, the strength to let me fall and the intelligence and knowledge to know just when to step in. 

He’s my hero and the only real hero I’ll ever have because,  to this little girl,  he has been and will always be, the picture of exactly what a man should be.  He’s been treated poorly so many times but he refuses to be unkind.  He has had to endure incredible suffering but he still laughs from his belly and makes sure others smile.  He’s cooked my meals and tucked me in without shame or any fear that these acts would damage his masculinity.  He made sure we knew that a man’s measure isn’t in muscles,  bank statements,  or power.  His ability to love and protect the lives he’s been charged with caring for is what really matters in the end.  My Daddy,  well I measure his ability to do this in the way his daughters and wife love him in return.   

Love ya Dad.  You’re my hero.  The words “thank you” can’t express what I feel.  You’ve saved many lives while you’ve lived your own with integrity and decency and you saved mine a hundred times with your kindness,  encouragemnt,  unfailing love,  and clear example of exactly what a person should be.

I keep praying

Empowerment, Essay, Faith, Inspiration

I just keep praying.  I don’t know who is hearing the prayers,  i just know they keep answering.  I ask for more faith and less fear.  I ask to help keep my intentions in goodness and out of vengeance.  Sometimes,  though,  it’s just too hard.  I know no one is perfect.  Certainly not me,  but this battle is wearing on me today and I feel the anger rising.  So much of my life seems to be in the hands of others right now and that has always made me uneasy.  So many times people have proven that they just can’t do the right thing.  I have to force myself into the level of thinking I recently reached and not allow myself to go back to the old.  Nothing,  not one thing,  is in anyone else’s hands at all.  Everything belongs to my Creator now and I need to be reminded of that sometimes.  Sometimes it is just too scary to have faith in moments like this.   I’ve never felt so afraid. But,  this time,  I won’t let the fear send me spinning out of control or into the illusion that I have any at all.  This time,  I will let it drive me closer to the Man up in the cosmos who has kept me safe all along.  This time,  I can’t be beaten if I remember what i’ve learned and use it.  This time I will have peace WHILE I cry instead of afterward.  I just needed to write that down here to make it real.  My enemies have always been so much bigger and louder than I am. I know that it was never really me who won at all. I have to keep the faith, but today, it’s been difficult.

Tenfold.

Essay, Faith

I don’t do tit for tat. I do tenfold. By that I mean I do not actively seek revenge for most things, but the cruelty that is bestowed upon me is directly repaid by my Maker.  Now, I’m not certain who my Maker is exactly (as I’ve posted before) but I can feel that Creator with me.  Especially now.  On my spiritual journey I’ve done some reading and most of the world’s major religions have similar philosophies when it comes to revenge.  Confucius said, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”  Lao Tzu wrote in The Ethics of War, “The best soldier fights without vengeance, without anger, and without hate.  He puts himself humbly below his comrades, thereby eliciting the highest loyalty from them.  This is the power of non-belligerence and cooperation.  It is the ancient path to the Great Integrity.”  That wise man lived in the 6th century B.C. so this is no new concept.  Ghandi famously said, “An eye for an eye will only leave the whole world blind.”  The Dalai Lama (can’t leave him out) said, “We should not seek revenge on those who have committed crimes against us, or reply to their crimes with other crimes.  We should reflect that by the laws of Karma, they are in danger of lowly and miserable lives to come, and that our duty to them, as to every being, is to help them rise toward Nirvana rather than sink to lower levels of rebirth.”  The Torah speaks of revenge in Leviticus stating, “You shall not take revenge nor bear a grudge against the children of thy people.” Closely related are the words in Romans of the Christian Bible, “Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is Mine: I will repay, sayeth the Lord.”  Now, if you’re still with me, my current personal views on revenge seem to be a proven amalgamation of Karma and Christianity.  There are some things happening  for me recently that indicate that some sort of cosmic vengeance is in action.  I can hear the whining and whispering that it has caused.  I’m finally feeling that justice is on the way and I don’t have to do anything but the next right thing to receive the things I feel I’m owed.  This fact has always been true.  In fact, in my younger years, I’ve actively tried to protect my abusers from facing justice, only to find myself seated in the back of a courtroom crying as they are prosecuted to the full extent of the law.  My Higher Power has me covered, every time, always has.  He knows what’s best. He knows what’s right. All I need to do is be decent, act with integrity, have pure intentions, and carry love and kindness in my heart. The ones who have harmed me have always paid what they owe, and then some, so long as I do those things.  I’d be very frightened if I were on the wrong side of right because it is not me people need fear answering to.  My protector is MUCH bigger than that.

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