Dream Catcher

I have learned something very important about myself this year. I have learned a heck of a lot but this one thing specifically transforms the way I look at the world. 

I don't have a passion.

Well, not a normal one at least. For most people it's teaching, or music, or art, or math, or planes, or plants, acting, parenting, planning, traveling, cars, food. People love things; video games and snow boarding, museums, coffee, parties, shopping, books, movies, sports.

I don't. I mean I enjoy almost everything. I can find something to love in almost everything that I do. If not love it I can still find it interesting and enjoyable to some degree. And I mean I do have my hobbies I guess. Painting and drawing and fixing things and working with animals and my ukulele. But nothing that I am just absolutely crazy about and skilled in. 

This creates kind of a directionless life. I don't have anything that I just HAVE to do. Nothing I'm dying to work towards. It also makes me feel lame, honestly. People are nerding out about their favorite things and I'm over here like "Yeah, those are cool things..." I guess I don't have anything I really nerd out about. Well, I do, but when I nerd out about it... it's a little weird.

My passion, the thing I nerd out about is: people. 

I love people. They are fascinating and entertaining and complex. People love doing things and I love that they love doing those things! I love listening to people tell stories or drawing out their thoughts with questions that normal people don't ask. I can't play video games to save my life but I love watching my friends play. I don't have very many of my own dreams that I want to fulfill but I love making even the smallest, stupidest dreams come true. I love helping and encouraging people to do the things they wouldn't normally do or won't do alone. I'm an advocate for doing what's on your mind.

You say you want to drive to Canada? Done. We'll go next fall. You want to start a curling team? I'v got jerseys designed. Practice starts next week. You want to learn a new instrument? I will probably buy said instrument or continually remind you that you want it until you get it and I will happily welcome you into my hypothetical band. You want a milkshake at 3am? I'll be darned if I don't find some place open, near-by. (To whom it may concern: with this mentality, I am the WORST person to shop with.) If you don't know what the heck you want? Let's talk. I bet we can figure it out pretty quick, and I will do what I can to help you attain it. It's what I do.

This completely changes my take on life. I'm a dream catcher. I'm the person who says "why the heck not?" and "let's do it!". I live to help other people live life to the fullest. The majority of this year I was around very few people. I was deep in depression because of it. Nearly no friends, not meeting new people often enough, I had no dreams to catch, to goals to reach. I couldn't understand why I couldn't just be happy and alone. Why couldn't I just read more, or practice painting, or play ukulele and thrive as a human being? I'm doing what I thought I loved! But living for me, just doesn't cut it.

I'm generally uninteresting. As a person I'm very average. I mean, I don't have any real interests! So what was I supposed to do with so few humans in my life? Well, I don't know. Lol. I'm still figuring that out. But! Now I understand why I deal with depression even when I'm doing nothing but what I love. A step closer to learning how to live my own life to its fullest. Yay, for learning new things about myself!

Injuring Eternity

I recently began reading Henry David Thoreau's "Walden" thanks to my elder sister's insistence. In just the few first pages I'm left with phrases that redefine the way I see things. One in particular, I read and felt the need to dissect it. 

In Walden, Thoreau is ripping apart the daily routine of the average man. Before this phrase he goes on a little rant about human divinity and slavery then starts talking about man's fate.  "What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates his fate." ... "Think, also, of the ladies of the land weaving toilet cushions against the last day, not to betray too green an interest in their fates! 

"As if you could kill time without injuring eternity."

Weather or not Thoreau meant it this way, I suddenly saw my "eternity", my life, sprawled out in front of me. Every moment was like a dish in a feast. I have the choice to either stare at it and wish it was more, OR I could eat it and enjoy what's given to me. 

In our last days, or even our daily lives, is not the one thing we all beg for, more time? Yet we waste the moments we're given, waiting for more. More time to relax, more time to live, more time to do whatever the crap we are wanting to do. All that time waiting, is a perfectly good meal thrown in the trash.

Your everyday routine is your eternity, every moment. You will never miraculously "have time". It isn't going to just plop in your lap one day while you're tootling online. We're all given the same number of hours a day, it's your call how you spend them. Would you rather see your eternity, full and alive, like a banquette hall during a feast or empty and rotting because you were killing time while you were waiting for more?

 It's a conscious, moment by moment, choice in life to

 get everything you can and give all you got.

Onward

I just looked at my blog, like the stats and archives. I had over 60 views on my last post. That's so crazy. Also, I realized I've written at least one post every month for over a year now which is also pretty crazy. I've never done anything so consistently for so long! This is a really big deal for me!

I started this blog as a personal exercise more than anything. I wasn't really even sure I wanted to share it with anyone but I felt overwhelmed with the desire to be real with people and unashamed of how I think. I started posting it on all of my social media sites; Twitter, Facebook, even my Pinterest has a link to the blog. All I wanted was somewhere I could post my thoughts on the rare occasion that they complete themselves. And if someone gets something from reading them then that's awesome! If I'm the only one who reads them like a million times over, that works for me too.

For those of you who do read, you rock. You also are very likely quite insane, but I love you for that.

Little update! I hope to launch my "Study in Happiness" for real this time. I'm in a really good place for it and I have a few ideas of how to get it going. I would hope to incorporate videos and start a Youtube channel staring the beautiful people I come across but that's not my strong point. If you're reading this and you have skills with a camera/editing software, hit me up! I would love a partner in this adventure.

Thanks again to you crazy people who read these random, sometimes insane or depressing posts.

To make my day, leave a comment in response to one or more of these questions:
1) How would you describe the color green?
2) How would you describe the taste of water?
3) How would you describe how it feels to laugh, and what it sounds like?

One Year Later

Today marks exactly 1 year and a week since I left my engagement ring on my fiancé's dinning table and walked out of the apartment we were going to call home. And a year since we officially canceled the wedding. I thought,  in all honesty, that I'd be either in some foreign country creating a new identity for myself and completely forgetting everything and everyone in the States, or living a happy, normal life in the city I called home, serving in my beloved church and being a nanny for years to come. 

The last thing I expected was feeling pressured by my ex to avoid him at all costs. I did not expect to feel uncomfortable in my own church, or that I wasn't welcome to be with his family. I wasn't expecting my heart to burn with such hurt and anger that my body literally gave out, leaving me partially unconscious on the floor or shivering on the couch with fevered chills on numerous occasions. I did not expect to be so afraid of seeing him just walking down the streets that I needed to run away, move out of state.

I didn't have any real expectations when I decided I would not marry him. Except just that, not marrying him. But turns out that humans aren't naturally forgiving and civil. In fact, they are quite rude and intolerant of things that could cause them discomfort. So when you end a relationship,  that person tends to have a strong desire for you to not exsist.

The thing is, they do exsist and will continue on exsisting as long as you do. Your identity is now tangled up in theirs even though all other ties to them have been severed. I guess I thought I could move on and pretend it didn't happen. Or at least pretend that it wasn't a big deal. But you can't rip out a chapter in a book and expect to know the whole story.

I'm very glad I have not been married the past 10 months. But that man left scars in my heart that will forever ache for him. I hope one day I can enjoy irises and daffodils without thinking about the bouquets he always made for me. I hope that I will grow out of this fear he instilled in me of being fully myself. I hope that one day I will be able to trust a man when he says he loves me.

My dearest friend told me one night, just weeks before her own wedding, "God doesn't make you go through anything he thinks you can't handle. That means he thinks you're pretty strong." When I woke up on the floor of my apartment after blacking out from the pain,  I thought I would die. I wished it. I did not believe I was going to survive.  But here I stand, a year later.

I still cry about it, I still think about him randomly and feel the ache of his absence, but I survived.

God has been putting the shards of my heart carefully back together. I hate God for thinking I was strong enough to handle that but... I guess he was right, yet again.

I Saw

More than ever I am learning that I am a total and complete freak.
Of course I've known this for some time but it wasn't until recently that I realized what level of weird I've become. I was hanging with a guy that I just recently met, we were driving home and I looked at him, then at the road, then at him, then I just exploded on him a full on profile of himself I'd put together from observing him and his life, from his tattoos to his smoking habits.

It's one thing to notice things, and a whole different thing to actually say them out loud.

I've never done that before. Just laid it all out there. That's not normal. And it put me in a very vulnerable position because even though it was his life story strung out in the air, it was my heart that opened up to read it. I realized in that moment that observation reveals as much about the observer as the observed. His response kind of sent me reeling. He was actually impressed rather than freaked out. He thought it was quote, "awesome". I sat in this guy's car and basically told him "I've known you for a week but I know what your life has looked like for the past 10 years." And all he said was "that's pretty cool that you picked up on all that stuff." 

I felt like Sherlock Holmes when John simply says "That was amazing". Sherlock is right when he said "That's not what people normally say". Not many people like knowing they can be read like the cover of a book, even fewer people enjoying hearing what they're "book cover" has to say about them. Most people say something like "that was weird" or look at me like they're taking notes for a restraining order. 

I've never not been thought of as a freak. In my head, I loved him as a dear friend from that moment on simply because he found me to be interesting rather than overwhelming. My best friends accept that I'm a freak and find my oddities confusing if not entertaining.  But they still see them as odd. To him though...I wasn't. There's a safety in that which I have nowhere else in this world.

"Sherlock Holmes: When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised.

Dr John Watson: Yes. How did you know?

Sherlock Holmes: I didn't know, I saw. ..."

Writing Prompt: He Had My Name Written All Over Him

 Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump; the beat of my heart syncs to the pulse of my steps on the forest floor. My legs can hardly keep the pace but my head pushes forward. Speed is on my mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. I hear nothing beyond the sound of my ever quickening breath and the pounding of my heart. I've been running for what seems like forever but I can't stop, I can't let them catch us.

Us!

The entire world grinds to a neck snapping halt. I can't breath but it's not because of the sprinting. "Zach!" I gasp and fall to my knees. I was so focused on getting away I didn't even check to see if he was still behind me. As I shudder on the forest floor, I can feel his absence like a cold fog slowly engulfing me, sapping my energy and my will to move. I feel like I'm 100 feet underwater as the pressure of loss constricts my chest and throat.  My eyes begin to burn opening a flood of tears and uncontrollable sobs. I weep with every part of my being.

Time aches by and I realize the sun is setting. I have to find shelter for the night. My instincts kick in as I gather myself off the ground. Water, warmth, and protection. I see my hands pulling me through the trees and feel my body being propelled by the need to survive. I am my own shadow; lifeless, meaningless, lost.

As the last dot of light flutters off the forest floor I am able to light a small fire. The advantage to thick foliage is a lack of visibility.  It's also the greatest down fall as I hear creatures scurry around but can't see anything. The leaves all seem to have sprout wings and began their new life in the night.

I sit unresponsive to the buzz around me. Every inch of my body is heavier than bricks. I can barely keep my eyes open as I stare into the crackling fire.
As I drift off into a restless sleep I see his face in the flames. Zach, sitting across from me. His ruffled red hair and bright blue eyes. His little freckled face looks... distorted. My eyes snap open and my whole body lurches as though I've been shot with lightning. "Zach!" I scramble to my hands and knees and crawl around the fire. Tears stain his rutty face but he won't respond to me. He just stares at me. His eyes seem so full of fear. "Zach, what happened? I thought they--" He raised his hands and stared at his arms, mouth gaping with horror. I faltered. It wasn't until that moment that I realized he was covered with cuts. They look like some sort of pattern. I looked closer and nearly gagged. He had my name written all over him. Some carved straight into his skin others scrawled it what looks like a mix of blood and ink. "What did they do to you?"

The Wall

It has been quite a while since my last post. These past months have been nothing if not strenuous. Certainly they've been filled to the brim with beautiful memories that I will cherish forever but they have taken a toll on my soul.

As I sit here now just taking it all in ... I feel heavy. It's a freeing kind of weight though.

For months now I've been trying so hard to : make sense of it all, plan my life, motivate myself, heal myself, correct myself, be more, do more, constantly form myself into what I want to be.
.But I can't do that.
Nothing is in my direct power. I can not make a single thing happen on my own. And I guess it just took a year of incomprehensible circumstances for me to realize I need to start learning what it means to be powerless.

In all seriousness, having no idea what to do, how to do it, or when you should start, simply SUCKS. I've found when I don't know what and don't know how exactly to figure what to do, I do nothing. I had high hopes for my time in Salt Lake City; healing, growth, transformation. But in reality it has been me running. Running away physically, yes, but even more I've been running away emotionally.

After we broke the engagement... I was truly a mess. I cannot express to you just the intensity of emotions I felt in the weeks and months that followed. I ... I found that a breaking heart is not just an emotional ache. More than once I found myself curled in a ball on the couch literally unable to move while I shook uncontrollably with what felt like fever chills. There is    no  way    to process that kind of pain. It was terrifying. Emotions, I decided, were not worth becoming crippled. So I shut it off. Everything. Any deep feeling weather good or bad was off limits. I could practically draw you a picture of the huge, thick wall I'd built within myself.

This wall? It's still there. I can see it. There's cracks in it now but I'm still unable to level it. The very worst part of this wall is I've put it between God and I. Sometimes, I feel him reaching through the cracks, asking, pleading that I join him again. And for a moment I reach too but then I'm stricken with fear and I retreat back to my dark corner which I've deemed safe. "I can't hurt like that again," I tell myself. "If I go that deep again my body will give out. I won't survive."

I've been trying in my own power to demolish this wall but I might as well be using wet noodles in place of jackhammers with as much as I can do. I can't say I know how to make the transition from pasta to wrecking balls but... in all my travels these few months I think the biggest thing I've learned is how to start feeling again.

Awe, wonder, home-sickness, love, friendship, loneliness, unsure, confidence, joyfulness, fun, connection.

God, here's a crack in my wall. Grab my hand and don't let me go. I'm going to resist, I'm so scared but I want to be with you in the high places and the low places. As long as I am with you, my feet will always have a place to stand and my hands will always have yours to hold. Bring me out of this self made dungeon! I want to see the light of your garden again. HOSANNA!