Charlie Brown would be Ashamed

I love Christmas, and hate it at the same time.  The crowded malls and shopping centers, the traffic, ugh--spare me, please.  I also don't like the mentality we have about Christmas.  All the buying and spending.  Do we really need gifts in first world America?  Is it really necessary, with all that we already have?

I love buying gifts.  I love acing it, and getting exactly what someone else wanted.  I enjoy this quite thoroughly.    If I didn't get any gifts this year, it would be okay by me.  Just let me write a check for someone who is less fortunate.  That's the most important part of Christmas, is it not?  What's the point in buying?  What's the point in spending vast amounts of money on things that don't last?  There is none.

I love fashion magazines.  The pages inside interest me, because--yes--I like clothes.  A little bit--okay, maybe a lot.  I really like boots and shoes.  But all the same, even I know that all of the things in my closet will get worn down, go out of fashion, or get eaten by moths.  I don't feel the nagging to buy anything lately.  It just seems like a tremendous waste.

I sponsor a child that lives on the other half of the world.  He runs and plays football (a.k.a. soccer in the rest of the world); he picks beans in his parents' garden.  He has seven other siblings, and his teachers label him "below average" in school.   But the child is ever grateful for my support, and now that he's able to write me in English, I am finding out more about his life.  He never complains, nor does he say that is in need.  He speaks with simplicity and a humble gratitude that is foreign to America and other industrialized countries.  The used and overly baggy clothes that he buys with Christmas money are listed in detail in an end-of-the-year letter he sends me.  He doesn't smile in his photo, but he always sounds optimistic.  He requests that I pray that he passes his exams.  I love him, and I should be more like him.  We all should.

We're are missing out on mounds of miracles and life lessons.  What does the average American live for anyway?   Charlie Brown thought it was bad in the 60s--man, he had no clue.

The Word of Sadness

Tristitia means sadness, wretchedness, unhappiness.  Isn't that ironic?  Trista's name means sadness.  I feel weird this holiday season.  It didn't feel like Thanksgiving and it doesn't feel like Christmas is coming.  These days are little more than just that; they are days.  Normal days...shouldn't they be sacred and holy?  Shouldn't they be joyful?

I miss my friend.  It's easier to talk about her these days.  Some days hurt more than others, but I know she wouldn't want me moping around.

I find that family makes the sadness better, that is, until I have to leave.  Then I am so burdened on the road home.  It's family that makes the holidays.  I can't come home for Christmas.  Sigh.  I want them to be near to me.  That would be nice.

I spoke with a woman yesterday who lost her father the Saturday before Thanksgiving.  How sad.  She was crying when she spoke about it.  I hurt for her.  The holidays are so cold without family.  Spaces remain where loved ones used to be.  As I grow older, I know more spaces will appear, seats vacated.  The winter will become colder, and little bit harsher.  It's love that keeps me warm, and I now realize that I rely heavily on my family and friends to give me hope that I don't find easily.  It'll be okay.  I think this moodiness is my cross to carry.

Crying in My Hands

I didn't go to church yesterday morning.  The alarm went off and I felt like death.  Literally.  The windiness that brought the cold front also blew about allergens that kept me up sneezing and coughing all night.  It was worse than usual.  I think to myself that I don't want to spend the rest of my life being as miserable as my allergy-ridden father.  He had to take a shot every day, or every week--I don't remember exactly because I hate shots and wouldn't watch.  He is constantly congested and doesn't sleep well either.  We always joke that we can tell where he is in a crowd by the sound of him clearing his throat, which he does every minute or so.  My mother says that sound is comforting.  To me, it's the sound of misery.

I don't function well without sleep.  I have nightmares, so sleep doesn't come easily to me.  My allergies make it 20 times worse.  From early February's tree pollen to late November's weed pollen, I'm miserable 10 months out of the year.  If it's a warm winter like it was last year, then I'm miserable ALL year long.  Allergies can't compare to cancer, but they contribute to bronchitis (a sickness I struggled with when I was young), asthma, acid re-flux, and a poor immune system in general.  I drink eight to ten glasses of water a day. This keeps my mucus from being super thick, and it makes it a little easier.  I avoid ice cream and milk products, since they do the opposite of water.

Back in high school, I ran four to five miles during ragweed season.  How did I do that again?!  I ran this past weekend, and with the wind blowing everything around, I couldn't breathe.  My legs weren't hurting.  Heck, I wasn't even tired.  I just couldn't breathe.

How did I run two miles in 13 minutes?  With asthma?  I hate getting older.  It's becoming increasingly obvious how hard it is to keep up with things that used to be so easy.

After waking up at noon, I walked into the bathroom and looked at my red eyes.  I started picking at my face, messing with my eye brows--you know--doing all my little ticks.  Then I started crying.  Breck tried to understand why.  For a second I realized everything that I was struggling with--I would be dealing with it the rest of my life.  My OCD, the asthma, allergies, mania and excessive spending.  The weight crushed me.

I always thought I could conquer the things that ruled me in high school--but here I am, still dealing with them.  In fact, the emotional side of me is even more screwed up now then it was then.  I'm working on it--and I guess from what people tell me, I'm better, but I just don't believe it.  You know what I mean?  I feel like I am fooling everyone, and I really am just as bad as I always was.

With my health always in a limbo, my sleep pattern so jacked up...the physical exhaustion just piles on to my emotional mess.  I want to be more than this.  I want to be the girl my husband thinks I am.  I want to be that amazing and carefree--that beautiful.  Casting away all these problems and cares and throwing my  head back in a smile would be wonderful.  It's never that easy.

I hate the cyclic feelings.  I hate that I always end up here.  Tired.  

Talk, Talk, Talk

Blither, blather, blither, blather.  Just nonsense.  Politicians gab away about what they can and will fix.  Will they live up to the self-created hype?  Probably not.  This election was full of disillusionment.  I am that voter, you know, the one that doesn't feel like her needs are being met.  I am a woman, but I'm not going to force the right of my uterus upon you.  Do certain body parts have rights?  According to Sophia Bush, yes they do, and you better back off of them (#backoffmyuterus).

I am a rape victim, myself.  It's true--I don't believe people, especially men, understand what rape does to an individual's mind and soul.  I also think that you can't make people understand something that has never happened to them.  I can't force anyone to think or feel the way I do.  That being said, I don't believe abortion is an answer to rape or any other means of conception.  Would I gripe at a woman who got an abortion?  No.  Do I deride other people for not believing the way I do?  No.  Do I explain my views and the reasons I believe the things I do?  Occasionally.

This is one of those times.

As a woman in the modern times, I realize that men have better opportunities than us, and possibly they are paid more than us for doing the same jobs.  I--too--see that there are terrible stereotypes that society thinks we should conform to.  Yes, I hate all the sexy ads with scantily clad women who are rail thin.  I hate how the world pressures us into thinking that if we don't fit these stereotypes, we're overweight, out of place, and unworthy of love.  If we don't show enough cleavage, we aren't sexy, and therefore we shouldn't be upset if we can't get a date or if we are left for someone better.  I hate that women aren't taken seriously, but are sometimes portrayed as advancing because of looks or sexual acts with people in places of authority.  "Women aren't as smart as men, therefore they can't possibly have what it takes to lead."  If they're in a position of authority, I have heard people question as to why.  On the other side of this, you have the outcome of the sexual revolution.

I hate that being "sexually active" is the norm.  I hate that girls who choose to remain celibate until marriage are treated like snobbish prudes.  A girl can brag about sex with all the different men (or women) in the world, but the virgin is chagrined into silence.  People find it weird and unhealthy to "suppress" sexual activity or fantasies.  I can see their faces now, frowning and dismissive:  Please don't talk about your views on saving sex for marriage, you naive child.  

Despite the supposed progress of our nation, a woman who does brag or talk about her sexual ventures is still thought of as a whore.  Let's be honest.  But a guy with plenty of scores, no big deal.  He's cool.  Older men can date much younger women.  Yes, that is "normal."  But cougars and older women dating younger men is weird to think about, isn't it?  Even without morality in the equation, gender equality is all kinds of screwed up.  Don't let society fool you.  The way women were looked at fifty years ago still exists, it's just in the back of everyone's mind.  The only difference is that we don't speak of it.

Despite disagreeing with society's definition of what a woman should be, I don't agree with liberal feminists either.  Women want freedom to practice safe sex.  That's fine--none of my business, but then they go to companies and want to force on the them things like birth control, abortion costs and such.  Yeah...that doesn't make sense to me.  If you want the freedom to do things, accept the costs and consequences of said actions.

You do have the freedom to have rampant sex.  You have the freedom to buy birth control or condoms.  Then do it.  Please don't expect someone else to do it for you.  And when you do get knocked up, don't expect your place of work to provide insurance coverage for your day-after pills or whatever other procedure you choose to get done--especially if said company is run by Christian people with Christian values, ex. Hobby Lobby or Mardel.  Same goes for Chick-fil-a.  They reserve the right not to support things like abortion, because that is their belief.

I'm tired of people getting all up in a huff over Christian companies who don't want to except gay marriage or abortion.  I'm tired of Christians being bullied into a corner on these issues.  Yes, I am a woman.  But I think too many women are selfish and want birth control and certain services given to them because they are women.  They feel they are entitled to it.  They excuse murder, but then I hear them accusing politicians who say stupid things about rape.  Yeah, those guys are freakin' idiots.  But don't fool yourselves, ladies.  I highly doubt the millions of babies aborted up until this point were from incidents of rape.  In fact, I would venture to say that very very few of them are from rape victims at all.  Most of them are from selfish women who want to sleep around without a cost to themselves.  Most are probably from teenagers who have no clue what they are doing, and they are afraid.  Don't get me wrong--I don't believe in shunning people who get pregnant out of wedlock.  I don't believe in being hateful to them.  I'm not going to treat people who have had abortions like they are terrible people.  Everyone makes mistakes, but no one seems to see that these mistakes come at such a high cost for the mother and child.  In fact, the cost is very high for our nation in general.  Millions of lives have been wiped away, and do we seriously think we won't be held accountable?

If you are going to play with fire, plan on getting burned.  If you end up with consequences you don't like, accept responsibility.  Don't murder your kid.  And if you plan on murdering your own child, then don't joke yourself into thinking everyone wants to support that.  I don't support your "right" to abortion.  And I'm not sorry about it.

Keep on Smiling

I hate when weekends end.  Yes, that puts me in the 99th percentile of the entire earth, but I felt like saying it anyway.  I love lounging with Breck on the couch, watching TV shows all afternoon. I wanted to be unproductive this weekend.  I was in better spirits yesterday, but I'm depressed today.   I know, I know.  I am depressed everyday.

I hate feeling like a failure. Did I mention that I am the worst about hiding my emotions?

If you know me, you already know that.  I have to remind myself that I am not a slave to them.  It's easy to feel like a caged bird, so suffocated and starved of life.  It's days like this that I keep telling myself to be thankful for my life.  They say count your blessings.  Oh, and smile.

So here's to all my blessings.  I'm shaking off this grim feeling.  It's stupid.  I am independent, so I refuse to let my chemical imbalances control my life.  I refuse to let my circumstances break me.  Strength comes from the hard times and rough patches.  Strength comes from persevering.  My strength comes from knowing that God blesses me, even in my darkest days.  He keeps me pushing.  He doesn't let me sit here and mope, though I really wish I could.  The Invisible Hand pulls me up.

"Why are you down?"

"Well, God, you know I'm tired.  You know I'm a constant failure.  Sometimes I just want to give up.  I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Why are you tired?  What have you been doing that makes you tired?   You know, if you would rely on me then you wouldn't be so worn down."

"I don't know what I'm doing.  I think I'm doing what you want, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Stop thinking you can fix things.  You constantly push yourself to do what you're not made to do.  You're only exhausting yourself.  Try all you want, but you DO know that you're not going anywhere unless I want you to, right?"

"Yes...but where am I supposed to go?  What am I supposed to do?  What if I do too little?  I feel like I'm not doing enough, or I feel like I'm doing something wrong.  There's this constant guilt."

"I died to set you free from guilt.  Why are you letting it run your life?  I'm pretty sure that's my job."

"Yeah, I know...how do I get rid of that?"

"By actually believing I have this entire situation under control.  By seeing that this is my world--my galaxy.  I control your destiny.  Not you."

"Even when I fail?  Even when I'm everything I'm not supposed to be?  What if I'm unprepared?  What happens when I fall?"

"Stop worrying about it.  I'll guide you and help you.  I'll give you everything you need.  Nothing more, nothing less."

So, there's no clue about where this life is heading.  Only God knows.  So, I'm going to keep counting my blessings, in no particular order:

1.  God has given me a wonderful husband who knows all the bad parts of me, but loves me regardless.
2.  My parents and grandparents are men and women of God.  They are still married, despite hardships.
3.  My family is, for the majority, healthy.  I haven't had to deal with the loss of a family member yet.
4.  I have a job that pays well.
5.  This job has given me experience in computer programs like Adobe Creative Suite.  Awesome and relevant.
6.  I am able to connect with people on a deeper level with this job.
7.  I have siblings, and we are close.
8.  I'm not hungry.
9.  I have an abundance of clothing and material wealth.
10.  I am not sick nor do I have a disease.
11.  I have good friends who are there for me.
12.  I live in the US.
13.  I am allowed to practice my religion and speak about it freely.
14.  I belong to a church that preaches the Word of God faithfully.
15.  I have a group of people my age that go to my church, and they are awesome.
16.  I have a college education.
17.  I have a car.
18.  My car is paid off.
19.  I'm paying off my college loans ahead of time.
20.  I have two precious puppies.
21.  I am given enough money to bless and sponsor a child in Uganda.
22.  He reminds me that I have it pretty easy.
23.  No matter what has happened, I have survived it up to today, because of the grace of God.
24.  I am able to pay the bills.
25.  I know how to play the piano, and can write songs of my own...even if no one will ever hear them.
26.  I have access to the internet and countless amounts of information.
27.  I am able to vote for who I want to lead my country.
28.  I am blessed in about a million other ways, too.

 I'm tired today, but I'm going to smile.  Obviously, I have much to smile about.

Talking Rocks

Here I sit,  twisting back and forth--dangling from a long string.  I hate choices...big choices.  I know I must make them, but still, I am unsure of where I should be.  It's not just me, by the way.  It accurately describes much of my generation.

I hate indecisiveness.  So, I will pray and see how it goes.

I still run, and that's a miracle for me.  I do my best to get in shape.  It helps me sleep more and feel better in general.  I love the feeling of being sore the next day.  Even more so, I enjoy running at night--running by the field and its mass of cool air, unlike the air above the slabs of concrete.  Then comes the fragrance of water, and damp dirt.  I relish those smells.  They permeate the air, nearly as good as the scent of a fresh rain.

The earth announces fall with golden, aureate flowers that dot the landscape like brush strokes in a painting, along with quiescent leaves adorned in ruby and gold--the first turning of trees.  As chlorophyll vanishes, the trees enter their deep slumber.

When I leave my warm house and go out into this world of wonderful smells and color, it takes me back to times when I ran in the state meet at Oral Roberts.  The oaks softly shed their leaves, ever so slowly.  My feet crunched on top of them as I ran.

When I run, I don't feel the need to analyze every thought.  Why figure everything out, when I can experience the earth that we hide from?  I'm too caught up in myself, I think.  Just bury me in the sweet smelling soil, perpetually covered by a world of color and life. Let me stay there.

In the country, the Milky Way is so bright.  It lights up all of the sky, illuminating the black of night.  I could lay down and watch the galaxy revolve around some unknown point.  The stars are uncountable.  I miss that about living in the middle of nowhere.   Trees are wonderful, but where I'm from, there's just a vast, open sky.  In the spring, the thunderheads roll in, bringing with them precious rain.  At sunset, they come in the brightest oranges, fading into pinks and purple when the sun goes down.

I know we were made to enjoy these wonderful manifestations.  Are the changing hues and bright flowers for us?  The stars and sky too?  I dare say no.  I believe He created them because He enjoys them.  But we are given a chance to enjoy them, too.  God could have forged the universe and left man out of it.  But He didn't.  I, myself, wonder why He bothered with us sometimes.  We can be petty, selfish and cruel.  We ruin things.  Though humans have the capacity to love, cherish, and grow, we would rather invoke destruction .  Why do we, yes we, mean more to Him than all of creation?  Isn't it unfathomable?  For some reason, we are just a little less than the angels.

I am surrounded by beauty, and yet I wonder about our souls.  If all creation isn't a testimony to a Mind greater than all minds, a deeper Heart with the infinite ability to love, what is?  Happenstance doesn't answer the deeper questions.  He said even the rocks will cry out.

Because of the God I believe in, because I know He created this, all of my problems seem so small.  How else can I testify about Him?  Without Him, I wouldn't have survived.

 

Do You Keep Getting Up When You're Kicked Down?

I'm tired tonight.  Breck has tickets to see The Flaming Lips, but I'm too tired and the thought of the freezing cold wind that will be blowing at the outside arena isn't helping either.  I don't want to go anywhere.  In the face of inevitable uncertainty, I just want to hide under a rock.

So my employment situation isn't as secure as I thought.  I have a month to get my sales up.  Despite the fact we don't advertise at all, I have been trying to drum up business.  It's hard to do when you are on your own. I can tell people think I have a cushy job in a nice chair, just sitting here.  But it's not that easy trying to force people to buy into your product.  Voice mails, telephone calls, failed projects, passing out fliers at colleges...this is getting exhausting.  Add to that calling public schools and business associations--I'm just tired of getting turned down, or being forwarded to someone who doesn't answer.  Maybe it wasn't the greatest business idea for Oklahoma, or maybe it's just not in the right part of town.  I resent the fact that it's all on my shoulders.  If I knew that pushing for sales was going to be this hard, then I wouldn't have applied.  I wanted a job that didn't require sales/marketing.  I love formatting and designing books--don't get me wrong.  I love that part.  But it's very discouraging to see how this is all turning out, when I'm not sure where to go next or how to make it work.

We're supposed to go to some Halloween party later tonight too.  I don't really want to see anyone.  I just want to disappear for a while in the solitude of a warm blanket on a couch and watch The Office.  Is that awful of me?