Come Thou fount of every blessingTune my heart to sing Thy graceStreams of mercy, never ceasingCall for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnetSung by flaming tongues abovePraise the mount, I'm fixed upon itMount of Thy unchanging love
Here I raise my EbenezerHere there by Thy help I comeAnd I hope by Thy good pleasureSafely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a strangerWandering from the fold of GodHe to rescue me from dangerInterposed His precious blood
Oh, to grace how great a debtorDaily I’m constrained to beLet that grace now, like a fetterBind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord I feel itProne to leave the God I loveHere’s my heart, oh, take and seal itSeal it for Thy courts above
Come Thou fount of every blessingTune my heart to sing Thy graceStreams of mercy, never ceasingCall for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnetSung by flaming tongues abovePraise the mount, I'm fixed upon itMount of Thy unchanging love
22 October 2012
26 September 2012
The Curse of September
Like most people, I begin to dread the end of Summer sometime around mid-August, but for different reasons than one would think. I don't have a good history with Septembers. In fact, if I one day become President, my first official order of business is going to be to delete the month altogether and regroup with an eleven-month year. True story.
Back to my mid-August panic at the impending doom of September. Summer = smooth sailing. Weekends are spent swimming, playing outside, (or, more likely, basking in the frozen breeze of AC), and generally enjoying a laid back pace of life. Even the foods of Summer are better - think about it, grilled meats, juicy fruits, corn on the cob. What's better than corn on the cob? Nothing! So, I'm not totally neurotic for wanting to freeze time and enjoy Summer for as long as possible.
I digress. September has historically sucked, dating back to, like, 2003. My sophomore year of college, my parents separated because my step-dad sucked at hiding his progressing alcoholism. Then my sister went through a pretty dark period, and the curse officially started. I bet there's a giant book of Curses somewhere, and there's one for my family that dictates that each September we are all to be dealt with life-altering, gut-wrenching obstacles to overcome. So, sophomore year, the curse began, and I was affected, but able to stay distant enough from the problems at home by devoting my entire life to my sorority, school, and booze. The curse didn't really hit me too hard that year. In fact, I think the curse may have even subsided for the next couple years. But then, I graduated college and moved back to Delaware, where the curse's power is strongest.
The Summer after college, I moved back to Wilmington and started getting chronic, painful sinus infections. By the time September rolled around, I was suffering to the point that my ENT determined I needed a surgery that would involve removing a large part of my sinuses (which were 90% congested), and likened the procedure to cleaning out a honeycomb. He also put the kibash on my planned vacation to Peaks Island, and deemed me as not healthy enough to travel to a land covered in trees. [Side note: I didn't know at the time, but that was my last opportunity to ever go to Peaks again. Looking back, this makes me sad.] So, not only did I cancel my vacay, but I had to take a two-week leave of absence from a job I'd only been working at for three months. Needless to say, it was an unpaid leave. But that was painless when compared to the recovery from the actual surgery. I should have known the curse was back in full effect when I woke up in the recovery room feeling like I'd been hit in the face with a 2x4 and promptly vomited up a healthy (or unhealthy?) amount of blood. Those two weeks off work are pretty foggy in my memory, probably because I spent most days counting down the hours til my next dose of Percocet. Sinus surgery sucks.
Fast forward to September 2007. I still hadn't realized that this month is cursed, and therefore don't really remember any sense of impending doom towards the end of Summer. I do, however, remember feeling angry all the time, mostly because of the time capsule that had been slowly leaking its contents of memories into my consciousness for the past year or so. By September, my anger towards my step-dad had grown so obvious that it could no longer be attributed to his treatment of my mom or blamed on unresolved issues relating to his alcoholism. So one September day, my sister was at my apartment, and my step-dad became a topic of conversation. I don't remember details, only that my sister asked me, point blank, why I was so angry at him. My answer to her question changed our lives forever. My sister has not spoken to her father since. Mark moved out of our house that same day. My mom filed for divorce. Large amounts of money were moved into accounts that were never identified or accessible to my mom. I began a long journey of therapy, that I am still on today because any sighting of a person resembling my stepfather triggers a panic attack. I think you get the idea, September had finally cemented itself in my life as a cursed month, to be dreaded before its first day and celebrated after its last.
All I remember from the entire Fall of 2008 was that I slept a lot, gained a lot of weight, skipped a lot of showers and was reeaaalllyyyy depressed. We'll blame this on the curse.
September 2009 wasn't devastating in the sense that anything happened to completely shatter my world. However, my wedding was set to take place on September 27, and as of September 24 (give or take a day), the money that was to be used to pay for said wedding was still tied up in settlement negotiations that my stepfather had dragged out for two years. The entire month was rife with setbacks, negotiations with attorneys, and nail-biting. Finally, two days before my wedding, the money was released and I was able to breathe easy and write checks to all the vendors (who did amazing work to create a beautiful wedding).
2011 was the year the curse shifted its focus to my beautiful daughter. My poor daughter had suffered through months of respiratory and GI issues, along with a string of ear infections that culminated in two surgeries in, you guessed it, September (technically, the second surgery was the first week in October, but for the sake of this post, we're putting it under the umbrella of the September curse). The worst part of the endless testing and ever-changing diagnoses was not knowing what was wrong with my child. My marriage suffered, my faith faltered, my nerves were completely shot, and I sank into the now-annual September depression. This was our darkest time as a family, as we faced the potentially fatal diagnosis of cystic fibrosis (which wasn't in September, but see above reference to 'umbrella'), to the manageable prospect of mere constipation.
By the Summer of 2012, I was no longer naive to the Curse's impending doom. I thought, "I'm going to get in front of this train, and prevent the Curse from happening this year." I made an appointment with my therapist, to discuss my propensity to fall into a depression in September, and made a clear "action plan" of coping mechanisms to stave off the darkness. But, alas, the Curse proved to be stronger than me, once again. We began the month trying to overcome the setback of two months of unexpected, very expensive car repairs that really hurt us financially. Then, I was presented with a career opportunity that would seemed too good to be true, only to end in disappointment. My husband was also dealt with disappointment in his career. Then, we had a pretty ugly storm that caused a power line to fall into some neighboring trees, and resulted in my yard being covered by Asplundh in downed tree parts that, to date, has not been removed. Then, Belle developed a cough. It started innocently, more annoying than dangerous. Until last night, when we rushed her to the emergency room because her body shut down because she was struggling so hard to breathe. The nurse who took her vitals was so alarmed at the lack of air in her lungs that he had Belle set up on a nebulizer in the coffee room of the E.R., because her condition was emergent enough that we couldn't wait for an available room.
I feel so discouraged. I keep praying, and telling myself that there is no such thing as a "September Curse," and attempting to rely on God to lift the darkness from my heart. I keep trying to be mindful of the great things in my life, the love of family, the community and friendship of my CCW family, the roof over my head, and so on. I keep thinking that, even though there's no money in the bank, and Eric and I can't even exchange gifts on our anniversary, that God's plan is in action. God provides. It's really hard to stay so positive when your child is suffering, though. It's really hard to keep getting slammed with the "hard stuff." So, today, as it stands right this second, September, I throw up my hands in defeat. Wake me up when you're over.
Back to my mid-August panic at the impending doom of September. Summer = smooth sailing. Weekends are spent swimming, playing outside, (or, more likely, basking in the frozen breeze of AC), and generally enjoying a laid back pace of life. Even the foods of Summer are better - think about it, grilled meats, juicy fruits, corn on the cob. What's better than corn on the cob? Nothing! So, I'm not totally neurotic for wanting to freeze time and enjoy Summer for as long as possible.
I digress. September has historically sucked, dating back to, like, 2003. My sophomore year of college, my parents separated because my step-dad sucked at hiding his progressing alcoholism. Then my sister went through a pretty dark period, and the curse officially started. I bet there's a giant book of Curses somewhere, and there's one for my family that dictates that each September we are all to be dealt with life-altering, gut-wrenching obstacles to overcome. So, sophomore year, the curse began, and I was affected, but able to stay distant enough from the problems at home by devoting my entire life to my sorority, school, and booze. The curse didn't really hit me too hard that year. In fact, I think the curse may have even subsided for the next couple years. But then, I graduated college and moved back to Delaware, where the curse's power is strongest.
The Summer after college, I moved back to Wilmington and started getting chronic, painful sinus infections. By the time September rolled around, I was suffering to the point that my ENT determined I needed a surgery that would involve removing a large part of my sinuses (which were 90% congested), and likened the procedure to cleaning out a honeycomb. He also put the kibash on my planned vacation to Peaks Island, and deemed me as not healthy enough to travel to a land covered in trees. [Side note: I didn't know at the time, but that was my last opportunity to ever go to Peaks again. Looking back, this makes me sad.] So, not only did I cancel my vacay, but I had to take a two-week leave of absence from a job I'd only been working at for three months. Needless to say, it was an unpaid leave. But that was painless when compared to the recovery from the actual surgery. I should have known the curse was back in full effect when I woke up in the recovery room feeling like I'd been hit in the face with a 2x4 and promptly vomited up a healthy (or unhealthy?) amount of blood. Those two weeks off work are pretty foggy in my memory, probably because I spent most days counting down the hours til my next dose of Percocet. Sinus surgery sucks.
Fast forward to September 2007. I still hadn't realized that this month is cursed, and therefore don't really remember any sense of impending doom towards the end of Summer. I do, however, remember feeling angry all the time, mostly because of the time capsule that had been slowly leaking its contents of memories into my consciousness for the past year or so. By September, my anger towards my step-dad had grown so obvious that it could no longer be attributed to his treatment of my mom or blamed on unresolved issues relating to his alcoholism. So one September day, my sister was at my apartment, and my step-dad became a topic of conversation. I don't remember details, only that my sister asked me, point blank, why I was so angry at him. My answer to her question changed our lives forever. My sister has not spoken to her father since. Mark moved out of our house that same day. My mom filed for divorce. Large amounts of money were moved into accounts that were never identified or accessible to my mom. I began a long journey of therapy, that I am still on today because any sighting of a person resembling my stepfather triggers a panic attack. I think you get the idea, September had finally cemented itself in my life as a cursed month, to be dreaded before its first day and celebrated after its last.
All I remember from the entire Fall of 2008 was that I slept a lot, gained a lot of weight, skipped a lot of showers and was reeaaalllyyyy depressed. We'll blame this on the curse.
September 2009 wasn't devastating in the sense that anything happened to completely shatter my world. However, my wedding was set to take place on September 27, and as of September 24 (give or take a day), the money that was to be used to pay for said wedding was still tied up in settlement negotiations that my stepfather had dragged out for two years. The entire month was rife with setbacks, negotiations with attorneys, and nail-biting. Finally, two days before my wedding, the money was released and I was able to breathe easy and write checks to all the vendors (who did amazing work to create a beautiful wedding).
2011 was the year the curse shifted its focus to my beautiful daughter. My poor daughter had suffered through months of respiratory and GI issues, along with a string of ear infections that culminated in two surgeries in, you guessed it, September (technically, the second surgery was the first week in October, but for the sake of this post, we're putting it under the umbrella of the September curse). The worst part of the endless testing and ever-changing diagnoses was not knowing what was wrong with my child. My marriage suffered, my faith faltered, my nerves were completely shot, and I sank into the now-annual September depression. This was our darkest time as a family, as we faced the potentially fatal diagnosis of cystic fibrosis (which wasn't in September, but see above reference to 'umbrella'), to the manageable prospect of mere constipation.
By the Summer of 2012, I was no longer naive to the Curse's impending doom. I thought, "I'm going to get in front of this train, and prevent the Curse from happening this year." I made an appointment with my therapist, to discuss my propensity to fall into a depression in September, and made a clear "action plan" of coping mechanisms to stave off the darkness. But, alas, the Curse proved to be stronger than me, once again. We began the month trying to overcome the setback of two months of unexpected, very expensive car repairs that really hurt us financially. Then, I was presented with a career opportunity that would seemed too good to be true, only to end in disappointment. My husband was also dealt with disappointment in his career. Then, we had a pretty ugly storm that caused a power line to fall into some neighboring trees, and resulted in my yard being covered by Asplundh in downed tree parts that, to date, has not been removed. Then, Belle developed a cough. It started innocently, more annoying than dangerous. Until last night, when we rushed her to the emergency room because her body shut down because she was struggling so hard to breathe. The nurse who took her vitals was so alarmed at the lack of air in her lungs that he had Belle set up on a nebulizer in the coffee room of the E.R., because her condition was emergent enough that we couldn't wait for an available room.
I feel so discouraged. I keep praying, and telling myself that there is no such thing as a "September Curse," and attempting to rely on God to lift the darkness from my heart. I keep trying to be mindful of the great things in my life, the love of family, the community and friendship of my CCW family, the roof over my head, and so on. I keep thinking that, even though there's no money in the bank, and Eric and I can't even exchange gifts on our anniversary, that God's plan is in action. God provides. It's really hard to stay so positive when your child is suffering, though. It's really hard to keep getting slammed with the "hard stuff." So, today, as it stands right this second, September, I throw up my hands in defeat. Wake me up when you're over.
14 September 2012
I Won't Give Up
When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
There's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find
'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up
I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up.
I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
[Jason.Mraz]
27 August 2012
The Event
"Creatively, do you think it's true or false that many of the artists who we know and love are often governed by a single event that happens in their life, and that event then becomes this vivid, iconic thing they return to over and over in their work?" Crowe asks.
"One-hundred percent true. That's not actually my moment or my theme – my moment is not one that I would probably talk about," says Stone. "But there is a moment that keeps coming back over and over throughout my life. It's the thing that I return to when I'm making a decision out of fear. Anything that I'm doing out of fear is defined by that moment."
[Cameron Crowe, interviewing Emma Stone for Interview magazine]
27 July 2012
Gone Girl
I've literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can't anymore. I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.
It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.
....
It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because not a real person and neither is anyone else. I would have done anything to feel real again.
Gone Girl [Gillian.Flynn.]
This passage from the book I am currently reading struck me because of its similarity to a recent sermon given by Jason at worship. Of course we are jaded, and manipulative, and numb. How could we not be in this world where selfishness and competition override any real feelings and passion? How many times have I compared a situation that was happening in-the-moment to a song, or a movie, or a TV show? How sad is that? I have edited more Facebook statuses than I care to admit, tweaking them until they portray the self that I am comfortable displaying to the world. I am mindful of the words I let escape into the world wide web for fear of judgment, criticisms, etc. I rarely post a photo of myself that isn't larger than a head shot because I don't want anyone to see me, the matronly, just-trying-to-get-through-the-day Shaina.
There is a redeeming truth left out of the book, which was passionately provided by Jason during a recent worship service. God sees me. God sees right through those carefully thought out Facebook statuses and knows what truly lies in my heart. And He loves me anyway. He wants me. His whispered words of encouragement are hidden in the every day stuff of life, and when I stumble upon them I am grateful and ashamed and guilty and in awe of His grace.
Last night I was laying in bed listening to pretty intense thunderstorm, and as I listening to the grumbling thunder and heavy rain, I was struck by God's power. It's time to go " All In," as Jason described in worship. God's power and mercy demands that I give myself to Him 100% without the superficiality of religion gone bad, or with vain intentions, or a genie's list of wishes. It's time to get back to basics, and be true to my authentic self, without fear of judgment, completely flawed and scared, but able and willing, thirsting, to get the most out of this life that God has given me.
16 February 2012
Keep On Keepin' On
People keep on learnin'
Soldiers keep on warrin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
Powers keep on lyin'
While your people keep on dyin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
I'm so darn glad he let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach the highest ground
Teachers keep on teachin'
Preachers keep on preachin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no
Lovers keep on lovin'
Believers keep on believin'
Sleepers just stop sleepin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no
I'm so glad that he let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach my highest ground...Whew!
Till I reach my highest ground
No one's gonna bring me down
Oh no
Soldiers keep on warrin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
Powers keep on lyin'
While your people keep on dyin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
I'm so darn glad he let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach the highest ground
Teachers keep on teachin'
Preachers keep on preachin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no
Lovers keep on lovin'
Believers keep on believin'
Sleepers just stop sleepin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no
I'm so glad that he let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach my highest ground...Whew!
Till I reach my highest ground
No one's gonna bring me down
Oh no
Till I reach my highest ground
Don't you let nobody bring you down (they'll sho 'nuff try)
God is gonna show you higher ground
He's the only friend you have around
Don't you let nobody bring you down (they'll sho 'nuff try)
God is gonna show you higher ground
He's the only friend you have around
{stevie.wonder.}
13 February 2012
All or Nothing
All.
There are days when my heart is fit to burst from the sheer gratitude and happiness I feel for simply being alive. I look at my daughter in wonder, and thank God for picking me to be her mother. I look at my husband and thank God for sending me on this journey of life with someone who makes me laugh, who makes me feel safe, who makes me into a better person. I look at my house and thank God for providing a kind of home for my children to grow up in that I never had.
I love those days where I am mindful of the fact that I have it all. Those are the days where life doesn't seem so impossible, and I am satisfied.
Nothing.
Most days I wake up and feel...nothing. I go through the day barely managing to keep it together, and consider it a success if I don't let the sobs escape from my chest.
My day begins way too early with my mother lecturing me, quite loudly, about what I need to do/should have done/should not have done. I feel indifferent. I have many issues with my mother, and will never raise a single one with her. My mother is the queen of write-offs. My entire senior year of college was one of the best years of my life, aside from the fact she didn't speak to me. So, I nod and agree with whatever it is she's decided to rant about for the day, but really I feel nothing. Besides, I need her. If she writes me off, I'm an orphan. I'm too scared to face life without her. So, I choose to ignore those pesky feelings building inside of me that threaten to muddle in my dysfunctional, enmeshed relationship with her.
I go to work at a job where I am treated indifferently, and I therefore am indifferent towards the job.
It is not until I get home to a husband and daughter who are genuinely happy to see me that the faintest sparks of life and light ignite inside of me. I do not come alive until 5:30 every day. Which means I am dead inside for 9 hours of the day. I don't feel angry, anger leads to action, and I have decided actions are useless for those 9 hours of emptiness. I simply feel nothing, except those moments where the sobs threaten to escape, and I am faced with the terrifying prospect of completely losing my shit.
All.
My therapist says I tried to do it all in too short an amount of time. I started grad school, got married, had a baby, bought a house, and started a new job all in less than two years. I wanted the American dream, and I got it all. My therapist also says she doesn't see the passion for life and gregarious nature in me anymore. I want to tell her that was the price of having it all.
Nothing.
I want to feel. I remember going to Chapel every Wednesday in high school and watching people moved to tears by the words we had to sing. They were alive. I remember thinking back then that I felt nothing, and even prayed to God to ignite something, anything inside of me so that I could experience real feeling.
All.
I remember one night not long after my mom and Mark split up and I broke down crying, not understanding how my life could ever be normal, not believing that I would ever feel happiness again. Eric held me in his arms, and with my face pressed into his chest he kept saying with such emotion, "I love you so much, I am so sorry this is happening." His love got me through that day and has brought me back to life many dark days after.
I remember one of the first nights after Isabella was born, I was staring down at her in my arms and my heart overflowed, and tears streamed down my face, and I felt. My daughter brought me to life. Sometimes she'll look at me and give me a kiss and say "Too," which is her way of saying "I love you." That one word makes my whole body feel warmed by sunshine.
I'd like for there to be more "All" days instead of "Nothing" days. I'd like to wake up in the morning and feel. I'd like to feel alive all the time, instead of only feeling joy and love when my husband and daughter are touching my heart. Because feeling nothing all the time feels pretty lonely and isolating.
All or Nothing. Or Something.
I keep a lot of despair and sadness bottled up inside because it's not my role to be the depressed one in the family. That's my sister's role. And frankly, I already think she feels like I steal her thunder. So, I'm not taking this from her. And yet, I get so frustrated with her when she elicits empathy and support from the people I long to get it from. But I use up all of the attention paid to me by being the funny/sarcastic/ridiculous one. That's my role. And once those roles are cast, there's no switching parts. Maybe that's why I feel better when I'm with Belle and Eric. I get to be all of me, I don't have to play a part.
Or maybe I should just stop whining, because God has given me this beautiful life, and I only get one chance to make something out of it. Or maybe my meds need to be adjusted. Or maybe I need to find a way to turn those brief moments of utter joy and happiness into lasting moments of contentment and peace. Or maybe...
There are days when my heart is fit to burst from the sheer gratitude and happiness I feel for simply being alive. I look at my daughter in wonder, and thank God for picking me to be her mother. I look at my husband and thank God for sending me on this journey of life with someone who makes me laugh, who makes me feel safe, who makes me into a better person. I look at my house and thank God for providing a kind of home for my children to grow up in that I never had.
I love those days where I am mindful of the fact that I have it all. Those are the days where life doesn't seem so impossible, and I am satisfied.
Nothing.
Most days I wake up and feel...nothing. I go through the day barely managing to keep it together, and consider it a success if I don't let the sobs escape from my chest.
My day begins way too early with my mother lecturing me, quite loudly, about what I need to do/should have done/should not have done. I feel indifferent. I have many issues with my mother, and will never raise a single one with her. My mother is the queen of write-offs. My entire senior year of college was one of the best years of my life, aside from the fact she didn't speak to me. So, I nod and agree with whatever it is she's decided to rant about for the day, but really I feel nothing. Besides, I need her. If she writes me off, I'm an orphan. I'm too scared to face life without her. So, I choose to ignore those pesky feelings building inside of me that threaten to muddle in my dysfunctional, enmeshed relationship with her.
I go to work at a job where I am treated indifferently, and I therefore am indifferent towards the job.
It is not until I get home to a husband and daughter who are genuinely happy to see me that the faintest sparks of life and light ignite inside of me. I do not come alive until 5:30 every day. Which means I am dead inside for 9 hours of the day. I don't feel angry, anger leads to action, and I have decided actions are useless for those 9 hours of emptiness. I simply feel nothing, except those moments where the sobs threaten to escape, and I am faced with the terrifying prospect of completely losing my shit.
All.
My therapist says I tried to do it all in too short an amount of time. I started grad school, got married, had a baby, bought a house, and started a new job all in less than two years. I wanted the American dream, and I got it all. My therapist also says she doesn't see the passion for life and gregarious nature in me anymore. I want to tell her that was the price of having it all.
Nothing.
I want to feel. I remember going to Chapel every Wednesday in high school and watching people moved to tears by the words we had to sing. They were alive. I remember thinking back then that I felt nothing, and even prayed to God to ignite something, anything inside of me so that I could experience real feeling.
All.
I remember one night not long after my mom and Mark split up and I broke down crying, not understanding how my life could ever be normal, not believing that I would ever feel happiness again. Eric held me in his arms, and with my face pressed into his chest he kept saying with such emotion, "I love you so much, I am so sorry this is happening." His love got me through that day and has brought me back to life many dark days after.
I remember one of the first nights after Isabella was born, I was staring down at her in my arms and my heart overflowed, and tears streamed down my face, and I felt. My daughter brought me to life. Sometimes she'll look at me and give me a kiss and say "Too," which is her way of saying "I love you." That one word makes my whole body feel warmed by sunshine.
I'd like for there to be more "All" days instead of "Nothing" days. I'd like to wake up in the morning and feel. I'd like to feel alive all the time, instead of only feeling joy and love when my husband and daughter are touching my heart. Because feeling nothing all the time feels pretty lonely and isolating.
All or Nothing. Or Something.
I keep a lot of despair and sadness bottled up inside because it's not my role to be the depressed one in the family. That's my sister's role. And frankly, I already think she feels like I steal her thunder. So, I'm not taking this from her. And yet, I get so frustrated with her when she elicits empathy and support from the people I long to get it from. But I use up all of the attention paid to me by being the funny/sarcastic/ridiculous one. That's my role. And once those roles are cast, there's no switching parts. Maybe that's why I feel better when I'm with Belle and Eric. I get to be all of me, I don't have to play a part.
Or maybe I should just stop whining, because God has given me this beautiful life, and I only get one chance to make something out of it. Or maybe my meds need to be adjusted. Or maybe I need to find a way to turn those brief moments of utter joy and happiness into lasting moments of contentment and peace. Or maybe...
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