Friday, February 20, 2015

I Will Try Again, Or Rambles from Life in Shambles

    I was close to closing this blog down.
    My words were found out, you see, and people were confused, and then it spiraled and I was screaming and crying at noon and so I blamed blogging and myself. (I'm surprised and a bit confused that my neighbors didn't call 911, considering I was all forms of not-quiet).

    And I thought, wouldn't it be easier to let them win and then blame them for their victory?

    And then I thought, who is them but misunderstanding and confusion and chaos? 

    I wound up with a maelstrom of one mega stress-induced nosebleed, surprisingly close friends, and emotions I'm still struggling with. Yeah, writing this hurts.
    (Oh, and a blizzard because Boston apparently wants to bury us alive in cold white crystals, and now I hate snow and I BLAME YOU, BOSTON).
    Anyhow. I am back, semi-wise, since la grad studies are picking up this semester and, well, lab is a thing. So is the story I'm working on, the story from my heart.

    I guess I'll keep challenging myself to be honest. I will try again to post the raw and the ugly and the beautiful, because all I intended was to speak and hope that others know they are not alone.

   Because you are never alone.

   This also means, you guessed it: I'll keep posting cat pictures.

  Meow. How're you doing?



  1. Hey! I appreciated that you voted my post w/ 2 other ppl. It was validation. The post was about an epiphany I had as a 9year old watching a documentary of the pile of bodies left behind by the Nazi killing machine. How does that prepare me to be a missionary to the 'Mericans'? I wasn't sure when I posted this morning. I'm more sure today, now than I was.

  2. :) Do you mind describing that surety? (I'm curious).
    I think your love for Americans is great.

  3. I'm glad you asked! The validation I received today helps me to be in touch w/ others who just mite second that emotion. At 9 I had an identity problem. I was raped in the park just few blocks from home. I didn't tell my parents. I somehow knew they weren't there for me. Turns out they were both severely mentally ill. Seeing those bodies in that documentary gave me a clue about my status in my home and greater community. I was being prepared to be dead. Killed by a pattern of abuse and neglect that, passing years, would confirm my worst fears. That's why when I hit bottom as a young adult I was so open to recieve the holy spirit and a new path opened. So I survived. Fast forward today eyes being open to the fact that I am not the only outcast. There is powerful hope alive in me to reach out w/ empathy & honesty that a long lifetime of experiencing & surviving structural violence that is, I think, as hideous as the holocaust for vulnerable ppl in America.

  4. Hey, I'm so sorry you went through that. And I think your goal and empathy is so needed in this world.

  5. thank you for hearing me! i didn't realize till just now how the rape & the documentary were connected. it takes empathy to feel safe enuf for the hard truth to be processed, integrated & liberated i think. sooooo necessary to recovery!