Tuesday, August 31, 2010

some poems don't rhyme

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what is going to happen next."
-Gilda Radner.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I really AM still me.

Yesterday, I spent a long time reading old journals. I picked up the "real" ones first.
They were the ones I tried to keep really positive. They were the ones that I was okay with other people reading. Sharing "spiritual" experiences and my testimony, but they weren't my real miracles or my real thoughts.

I spent about thirty minutes reading those, and then I just felt yucky.
I curled up in a ball and cried and felt really bleh.

I promised BJ I wouldn't read any more.
Last night, I broke the promise. I have a journal that was just a bunch of note paper. One day I started writing. I remember being so caught up in lies, that I just wanted a place I could be honest. There are no dates on this journal. No ending to the entries. I just wrote. I thought it was a lot of eating disorder stuff. That was there, but actually there was less of that than in my real journal.

What was there was Jen. Her thoughts. Her feelings. The things she felt about her family, God, church, life. Her guilt. Her sadness. Her anger. And she did a really good job of expressing herself. The journal that I thought was going to be really bad and hard to read wasn't. It was refreshing and felt good to me.

I am thinking about burning the others.
Report cards, daily schedules, presents, and the things I thought I was supposed to think make me a little sick to my stomach.

It turns out I was spunky and opinionated even back then. Everyone tried so hard to domesticate me and make me what they wanted, but it didn't work back then, and it probably never will. This is my favorite entry. I think I was about sixteen or seventeen, but I'm not sure.
"Who knows? Maybe someday I will look back on all this and laugh, but right now I really don't think it will happen.

Why do people say that anyway?

I don't see how stuff that isn't funny now could become hilarious enough for me to laugh about it in fifteen years. Oh well..."
Its been about fifteen years since I wrote it. And the things that made me sad back then, STILL make me sad today. The things that made me angry back then, make me even more angry now.

So, why DO people say that?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

let the rumors begin

I understand what the church says about homosexuality. I understand what the bible calls it. I understand that it is supposed to be evil according to God.

What I don't understand is how the government should have any say whatsoever.
What I don't understand is why the church thinks they have any right to define everyone else's rights.
What I don't understand is how if two people can get this whole love/sex/coupleness worked out, why the hell would anyone want to get in the way???
What I don't understand is why anyone would want to get married if they don't have to.

I don't think this decision will affect me... at all... it won't affect all of the people who believe they are losing their rights. It will only affect the people who have wanted to get married (WHY??) and give them a chance to do so. The people who have had the right to get married since marriage existed will still have all the rights...

All I know is if two people get it figured out, I WANT them to have every opportunity. I don't care who they are. I don't care how they got there. I don't care if it was biological, or caused by abuse, or a choice... If they can learn to love and be loved in return, I am very happy for them.

I know what I'm supposed to think, and still... I am glad.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

...go me!

Everyday, I learn more about who I am, what I want, where I am going... Everyday, more things fall into place inside my own mind. Everyday, I change.

I've been struggling with trying to figure out how to talk to my landlord. John came in the apartment almost two months ago, and I have kept trying to dismiss it... While at the same time not being able to.

I have been reading meditations from the book, Time to Break Free. I am on day 60, but I randomly turned to day 71.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm competing with other abused women. I may hear or take part in conversations in which women are comparing situations or abusers: "If you think that's bad, listen to this," or, "Your husband may have pushed you around, but mine treated me much worse."

This competition doesn't help anyone. We simply want others to know how much we've been hurt; we want to be heard, and we want compassion. There is a way to feel heard without comparing myself to others. Expressing my feelings about the abuse instead of the details of what happened helps me move forward in my healing process. "When he pushed me, I felt afraid, angry, and alone" is a healing statement. When I learn to speak in this manner, I find that all abused women have shared the same types of feelings. This helps me better understand other people as well as myself."
I have never been one to participate in competition stories. I refused to go to a support group after I divorced Larry, because I didn't want to participate in that. The friends I have chosen to associate with are very similar to me... Constantly dismissing their own stories as "no big deal". When they do it, I have no problem getting angry and upset for them. For me... not so much... But... Reading this, it REALLY hit me. I NEED to be heard. I NEED to be understood. I NEED compassion. There IS a way to be heard without telling "horror" stories.

It doesn't actually matter to ME if John coming in is right, or wrong, or good, or bad, or legal, or whatever... It doesn't matter if he had a good reason... It doesn't matter if he meant harm...
When John came into my apartment, I felt panicked, invaded, scared, and angry.
And the same thing goes for whoever has come into my apartment when I'm not there.
When I go into my apartment and things have been moved, I feel scared, anxious, and unsafe.
HA! I get it. I understand. I might actually be able to do this whole "life" thing.