It’s non-stop stress, no time to take a breath, use the bathroom, put nutrients in my body.
It’s go-go-go and do-do-do for everyone but myself.
It’s slowly killing me and it needs to stop. I need a release, or some outside support to change this pattern.
This was once acceptable, but I cannot allow it to be any longer.
This is the beginning of MY TIME. MY LIFE. MY PRESENT AND FUTURE.
So, I’ve been considering doing this for quite a while now… but due to my lack of available time to dedicate to its development, I’ve stalled. Thanks to a free domain offer through the fabulous WordPress, I now own “KaliSue.com.” Which means I am finally taking the steps to launch another project.
I have some vague plans for the purpose it shall serve, however, I’d like for it to be an almost reverse mirror image of CurlyKaliSue.com.
As I’ve matured, I’ve discovered how truly multi-talented I am. I have always been creative, always delved into different ways to express this creativity. Once upon a time I dedicated myself to learning how to paint acrylics on canvas, repurposed random furniture or objects I found on the side of the road, refinished different antique wooden pieces, a lot of different hobbies have drawn me to them.
I’d like to showcase these projects, past, present, and future… and possibly give them away to anyone who appreciates them.
This site may take some time, but it’s time I want to spend for myself… expressing myself beyond words.
Or is it?! Lately it doesn’t seem to be. I’ve neglected my physical health, and I have been so busy that my mental health is nowhere near the top of my list of priorities.
I printed off my time card from last week and I have 23.5 hours of overtime. That means I worked 63.5 hours last week. Which is insane. I have taken on so much at this company since I started in December. And I have enjoyed it very much, all the responsibility has made me feel so confident in myself and my ability. However, it seems like a lot of my coworkers are taking advantage of my hard work and dedication.
It’s almost as if that now they know how hard I am willing to work, and the massive amount of things I’m open to taking on, they expect this and so much more from me. And it is slowly killing me. It has become quite evident now due to my physical health taking a decline. I have lost so much weight in the last few months, that I actually look ill. The way that my mother looks at me, it’s a look of concern. And that concerns me.
I am trying so hard to make myself, my family, all of the things in my personal life more of a priority. Because the workload is never going to lighten. Once we hit the slow season, I had hope that I wouldn’t have to put in so many hours. But now there is a massive list of things that I need to work on during the slow season.
I really hope that I can get a handle on my personal life. I definitely need to make a priority, a priority for myself, my cute new little home, and my loving family of fur babies. I’ll get there… hopefully sooner rather than later. I am killing myself for this company… and so many people have tried to remind me that they will replace me in a second. The thing with that is, they will never find someone who will bust their butt the way that I do.
People are not always who you believe they are. They do not always have pure intentions, as you know you have. I understand why many get so guarded after being taken advantage of and trampled on… repeatedly. But, I WILL NOT LET THIS WORLD HARDEN MY HEART.
In such a short time so much can happen. Thankfully, I’m continually moving forward. I can no longer place expectations on other human beings or circumstances. It IS true what they say… time reveals all.
I’ve made a promise to myself through this all… I will love myself, MORE. Bare minimum is NOT better than nothing at all. I am a unique, once-in-a-lifetime soul. Which can be blessing and a curse. I only want to surround myself with those who can appreciate the passion I possess (for EVERYthing)… those that can’t appreciate all that I am can kick rocks. I deserve better. I deserve to value myself and have others value me. From here on out- I will not settle. I’ve come too far, experienced enough heartbreak to finally sit back and wait for, and work toward, everything that was meant for me.
Within the last week, an unexpected event occurred. And of course it has to deal with a person. A very specific person to me actually. However, I am going to try to be as elusive as possible about whom this person truly is… although I am sure the further you read the more it will become increasingly evident.
This person walked back into my life at the strangest possible moment. After I had completely written them off, built a life, a routine, an existence without them in it. One which I had grown extremely comfortable in. I had picked up the pieces and put them back pretty well- thinking I had “moved on” to a certain extent. Things I would see in my daily life that once reminded me of them no longer did. I had uncovered certain things that once bothered me to view because they made my gut tie into knots. I was finally… “okay.” I had goals and was reaching them. Goals I had since made after their swift departure from my life.
Then there it was, in the form of a brief email message entitled “hindsight.” I thought to myself “what the flying fuck?!” Was I seeing things? And so I clicked the notification. Much to my surprise… I wasn’t going crazy. It was real, and it was nothing I would have ever imagined to receive from this person. A letter of regret and remorse. One of apology and kindness. Sweet nothings that I had long been meaning to hear from this person but had finally shut myself off to (convincing myself that it was a hopeless wish).
Now, what was I to do? Leave it sit there was my first inclination. And so that’s what I did. But after a few hours of reeling in my chronically over-thinking mind, I felt compelled to reply.
At this stage I was still so completely hesitant and cold. In order to heal from the loss of this person I had rationalized so much in my mind. Including the fact that if I were to ever cave and reach out to this person I would not get the kind of response that I wanted, nor needed. But there it went… my fingers on the keyboard. Merely questioning this person’s intentions for spilling such a composition of words. Immediately my mind told me “it’s a trap.” But my heart argued “but what if it isn’t?”
A conversation soon ensued… and it was better than I had imagined. The things that I was hearing my mind couldn’t compute as reality. That’s when I truly felt the meaning of the word “doubt.” Never have I ever, at the hand of another human being, ever in my entire life, been so FUCKING confused. Hand-in-hand with this confusion was the utter essence of doubt that this could ever turn out to be true… and not just true in word, but in action. Because anyone can spew you a line of perfectly compiled words to make you feel a certain way. But someone who can project those same feelings through action, now that is someone you can believe.
Here we are, probably four days later and I am still trying to wrap my head around what is going on. I have long lived by the notion that the saying “people don’t change” is a crock of shit. People DO in fact, change. I am a walking billboard for such a concept. Because, excuse me… but I used to do drugs for breakfast. Now I drink protein shakes, or other healthy shit. I have done a complete 180 with my head, my heart, and my soul. So if I can do it- why wouldn’t it be justified for another human being to be able to do so? Who would I be to not allow this person another opportunity at being a part of my life? A hypocrite? One of the main things I pride myself in never being… and sooooo… I’m stuck.
I’ve built up this idea for what I want in my life the last few months and this person was not one of them. In order to heal I had turned things that I once found endearing into superficial and negative ideals.
I know a lot of this is probably rambling, but I just feel like I need to get it out. And I did tell myself I was going to just… write.
At this stage I am just utterly confused and trying to make sense of the million and one thoughts running through my mind with the re-entry of this person into my life. One thing I know for sure here is… only time will reveal whether or not this person’s intentions are well-meaning or not.
Until next time, darling… I’ll be reeling in my confusion.
My task is simple. Start writing. But my problem is… I want it to look perfect, to read well. Here’s the facts though. That’s not always possible, and if you want to do something, you simply have to start. Quit dragging your heels and move your ass… regardless of how it ends up coming out. Writing used to be so therapeutic for me. It has helped me to sort through the millions of thoughts running through my mind at any given moment. A lot has happened in my life within the past few months and writing has not been a priority. I think I’ve decided I need to just do it. My hands have gotten old and actually using a pen on paper ends up being a task. So here I go… I’m pretty sure no one reads this anymore, anyhow.
I am finally starting to reap the rewards of the hard work I’ve exerted. To someone on the outside they may think what I’ve accomplished is simple and easy. However, I can assure anyone out there watching this “new” me develop, this has been anything but easy. I’ve had to make some tough decisions, release things that were once important to me, pick up the broken pieces and keep going.
At this point in my life, I will not allow anything to stop me from getting where I want to go and becoming the person I want to be. There were moments where I doubted myself. Moments where I second guessed moves I was making. Although I may have been unaware of its power in the beginning, my intuition always called to me. It guided me and it saved me. For a majority of my life I allowed my cluttered-ass brain and deep-as-shit emotions to control my behavior. Rookie mistake.
Throughout my life I have been consistently aware of the power of my emotions. I have always been one of those people that feel everything so deeply that it takes over their entire being. Any kind of emotion, good or bad. In the instances where its a positive emotion… there is nothing more wonderful. Yet the same could be said for the opposing emotions. When it’s good it’s reeeeeally good. But when it’s bad… it’s hell. I have always thought of the deep emotional being that I am as an asset. Never would I have referred to it as a flaw. For some reason it has finally clicked with me. If a person strives for success, it will ruin them if they allow emotion to rule their actions. I believe that inserting emotion into behavior can sometimes motivate us on a more spiritual level… yet when it comes down to obtaining the standard definition of the American dream, emotion will be your downfall every time. Which absolutely sucks in my opinion.
Another thing I am thoroughly examining within myself is how I have had a habit of losing sight of some very important goals. I think I am finally starting to grasp why. It’s because the things I want to accomplish are going to take time. I mean, years. Which can sometime be overwhelming. I’ll never forget a story my mother tells about me frequently. It was basketball tryouts in probably the sixth grade. I was a much more shy version back then, and didn’t know how to ask for, let alone fight for what I wanted. So here I was, all the jock-chicks were shooting hoops trying out for the team… and I didn’t get the ball. Why? Because no one handed it to me. Could I maybe go run for it? Could I possibly ask one of the girls to pass it to me? No. I got upset and decided I wanted to go home and not try out. I gave up. Easy as F. Which is ridiculous. That’s obviously an exaggeration of what I am referencing. However, it does prove the same kind of point. If I don’t get immediate gratification, I quit. In this case, I cannot. I am tired of investing my energy in the wrong things. I need to start investing in myself and my future. Here and now, I can say that I notice how I forget about the progress I’ve made because I’m not where I want to be at this exact moment. I can see the things I want… but they’re just out of reach. I am climbing that damn ladder, but it’s taking me a little while. I need to remind myself that any step in the right direction, any amount of hard work and effort I apply into something positive for myself and my future is progress. I am so much further than I was yesterday and this time… I will not give up.
I know it’s been a while, I’ve been meaning to visit you… dear journal. Here’s a random memento to appease myself for now.
This time of year always makes me so nostalgic. Many memories flood my mind during these months, not all of them related to the holidays.
No one ever thinks they’re going to get “old…” until it happens to them. I feel my age more and more with each passing day. But the maturity and insight my years have given me is irreplaceable. I couldn’t be more thankful for the experiences I’ve had; good and bad, they’ve all taught me something no matter how small. [Oh, hindsight… lol]
Still- I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m forever blessed to have lived and live the life I have. All the people I’ve met, reason, season, or lifetime… every one of them important in developing my character and evolving my values. Every experience a lesson to be learned. Each day a mystery, but only temporarily. I am obliged to have the open-mind and hopeful heart to realize absolutely nothing is coincidence.
Very grateful for this life and my many blessings. One definitive fact I’ve learned:
God has a plan for my life; when He closes one door, He opens another… one meant just for me.
Well, here we are again. Christmas time is upon us and it suddenly becomes a time to revel in the company of those we love and reflect on the events that amounted to our year.
We talk of priceless moments we’ve shared with each other, and with others that aren’t able to join us. Enjoying homemade traditions and reminiscing on memories we’ve shared. There is no better feeling, all year round, that even compares. There is just something about Christmas that somehow finds a way to touch us all in some way.
The day started like any other day previous. I woke up dope-sick and immediately started scheming for ways to find money to cure my daily sickness. For a few days prior, there was this girl named Carmen contacting me to look through a tote of jeans I had listed online. I had been putting her off because I was finding other ways to fulfill my habit, but when I woke up on this chilly October morning, nothing else was proving fruitful. Meeting her became the quickest way I was going to be able to not be sick all day, so I started to make arrangements.
“How would 4:00 work for you?” I messaged her.
She quickly responded, “That would be great! How about meeting at the Speedway on Secor and Laskey?” to which I confirmed.
I jumped in my car, dripping with sweat but freezing, nauseated from every smell that crossed my nose, beyond restless, thoughts racing a mile a minute.
“I hope she finds something she wants,” I thought to myself. “Hopefully she brought enough cash with her so I can at least get through the next few hours,” I mumbled to myself as I sped down the street.
I reached Speedway, pulled into a parking spot, and messaged her, “I’m in a black Hummer.” No longer than five minutes later, as I waited profusely sweating, she pulls up next to me and parks in the spot to my right. Before I can get out to greet her a truck pulls in behind and blocks me in while another vehicle races into the parking spot on the other side of me. A tall, muscular man gets out of the vehicle to my left and opens my driver’s side door.
“Miss Kowalski?” he asks.
“Yes?” I say in confusion.
“You are under arrest for jumping bail, please step out and place your arms behind your back,” he states matter-of-factly.
Reluctantly I complied, and they placed me into the back of one of their cars. As if my mind wasn’t racing enough already, I began rationalizing in my mind how to talk myself out of this situation. I wasn’t going to be able to get my drugs today, and I knew what this meant for me. I pondered on the impending doom I would soon be facing. The macho man and the girl that had deceived me started to explain to me the circumstances I was in.
“Ms. Kowalski, according to my paperwork you have several warrants from almost every court in Northwest Ohio,” the officer explained, “after you are booked in you will have no bail.”
“Which means you won’t be getting out any time soon. One of your warrants actually specifies a mandatory 30-day sentence,” the deceitful girl added.
After hearing these details, my drug addled mind went into overdrive. For the first time since the commencement of my arrest record, I would not be able to get out of sitting in jail. I begged and pleaded with the two to let me go to no avail. Within a half-hour, I was sitting in the Lucas County Correctional Center with five different cases and no way out.
Many years previous, I was prescribed pain killers for an autoimmune disease I was diagnosed with and eventually my tolerance grew far out of control. For the last two years, I was heavily using several different kinds of street drugs to escape my pain as well as self-medicate. Never in a million years did I foresee my life ending up in the ruins that it was now in. When I was a young girl, I never thought I would be able to say, “I have been to jail,” let alone, “I was a drug addict.” But here I was, in an environment I never wanted to experience for longer than a day. Each time I had been in this situation in the past, I was quickly on the phone calling everyone I could think of to manipulate my way into having my bail posted. I was now sitting in a tiny five-by-eight cell. Cold concrete and steel were my only surroundings… and I was stuck. My eyes kept skimming the walls as there wasn’t much to look at except some encouraging words others had written such as “keep your chin up” scribbled in toothpaste. Within hours my body realized what my mind had already, I wasn’t getting out. I wouldn’t be finding relief. I wouldn’t be able to feed my body the substance it had become so greatly dependent on to function. Not only did my environment make me feel completely out of my element, but now I was heading into withdrawal which only grew more severe by the minute. Eventually, I was throwing up every fifteen minutes regardless of if my stomach had anything to expel. My tongue was constantly coated with the sourness of my stomach bile.
There wasn’t a moment’s rest during those first sixteen days. My body was detoxifying itself from all the poison I had been supplying it. Constant noise surrounded me. There were keys jingling through the corridors every half hour or more, doors slamming, people moaning, yelling, and banging on their cell doors. It never stopped.
Luckily, I found some solace with the prisoner in the cell next to me, Jennifer. Standing around five foot tall, with waist-length black hair, she intrigued me with her spunky, carefree personality. While we were locked in our cells, we would sing songs to each other back and forth. It was a welcome distraction from the excruciating symptoms my body was experiencing. “Boy don’t you know you can’t escape me, Ooh darling cause you’ll always be my baby,” we would sing. I would talk to her about my withdrawal process and how I had been so scared to endure such a struggle.
She assured me, “You will get through this.”
Jennifer would talk about her addiction frequently, but her unwillingness to try to overcome it resounded.
“I can already taste it,” she would say, referring to the drugs.
I, too, could taste the drugs every time I thought of them. It would be the easy way out. I fought with myself so much throughout this time, however, I had been dreaming of this day for so long. My fear of physical withdrawal had always been so great that my desire to be clean and sober never surpassed it. Sitting in front of me now was my opportunity. I had finally faced withdrawal and now the fear of what a “clean” life would entail started to sink into my mind. How would I ever begin to rebuild all that I had lost? Would I ever be able to function like a “normal” human being again? It was all too easy to demolish the successful life that I once led, but it would be a hundred times harder to attempt to reconstruct a life worth living now.
When I was first booked into the county jail I made a few phone calls. One of them was to my mother. I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, and it was an awkward conversation.
“Your dad has been keeping an eye on you through court records online. He saw that you had several warrants out, and we were wondering when we were going to get this call,” she told me.
It wasn’t like I was unaware that I was wanted by the law, but at that point, the drugs were driving my behavior, and I wasn’t willing to go without them. I knew that if I were to turn myself in I would subject myself to the very situation I was currently sitting in. Now it was time to call her again, let her know how I was doing, and discuss with her a possible game plan to stay clean once I was released. I still wasn’t sure if I was fully committed to the process, but I knew in my heart if I gained the support of my mother and father I would stand a chance at sobriety.
“How serious are you about this, Kali?” my mother asked sympathetically.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything I say, but for the first time in my life, I want nothing more than a real-life,” I tried to communicate as genuinely as possible.
I was in a desperate situation and knew that if I returned to the same environment I was existing in, I may be tempted to return to my previous routine. There was nothing healthy about the way I was living prior to my arrest. The fight inside my head was absolutely torturous. The basis of what I was thinking was, “Should I stay or should I go?” I knew that my mother and the rest of my family were hesitant to let me back into their lives, let alone their home. I had begun a habit of calling my mother every day. Not to ask for anything but to speak to her about my state of mind. I wanted to refrain from asking her in each call if I could come home, give her some time to consider what all that would entail. At the end of every call, we would pray together. This brought my soul so much peace.
Distraction was my only way to get through the withdrawal. If I didn’t keep myself distracted the symptoms grew worse. The near-artic cold, steel toilet in my cell had become my best friend. Not only would I hug him every ten minutes or so, but I would also sit on his “lap” nearly just as often. Luckily there was a sink attached to this steel contraption of a friend. This proved especially useful when the poison I once fed myself was expelling from both ends of my body. After just a few days my bodily functions were adding to the strange smells that once filled my tiny jail cell. Now, not only did it smell like the artificial dog food they were feeding us, it smelled like vomit and bowel movements. This surely didn’t help my nausea situation. Restlessness abounded as well. I would pace my cell during the short moments I had between showing affection for my steel toilet of a friend. There were a few books that were laid in the small common area of our detox pod. I read all of them during this time. However, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t lay still on the thin mat they supplied to us for our bunk. So, I paced the small area of my cell, book in hand, so often I thought I was wearing a pattern on the floor. I couldn’t sleep while the process of detoxing was occurring, so I paced the floor so terribly often. One evening, as everyone was sleeping, I was pacing with my book in my hand. Having not slept for many days my body decided to shut down while standing. I had fallen asleep with a book in my hand, eyes open, near the small window of my cell door. I was awakened to a correctional officer at the door, doing her nightly rounds with a flashlight. Her gasp startled me.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
To which I replied, “I think so.” I had to add a laugh at the end to lighten the awkward situation.
I can’t imagine how strange it must have been to see a prisoner standing at the cell door, eyes wide open, motionless, as she shines the flashlight in the room expecting me to be asleep in my bunk like all the other prisoners at such a time of the night.
My withdrawals eventually started to get better. For someone who hasn’t experienced such a thing, it would be hard to describe the immense relief which this brought. Sixteen days. Sixteen whole days is what it took for my body to even start to feel normal again. I still wasn’t able to sleep through the night, but I would force myself to drift off for small twenty-minute “cat naps” throughout the day. I could see an analog clock on the wall if I angled myself correctly near the small window in my cell door. If I fell asleep, when I awoke, I would get so incredibly excited thinking that I had slept for at least an hour or two. To my dismay, every time, the clock hands wouldn’t move as much as I had hoped. Dreaming while going through withdrawal felt almost like an acid trip. My dreams were so incredibly vivid that when I awakened from them my heart would be pounding out of my chest. Who would think that you could have such vivid dreams within such a small window of time? Twenty minutes, that’s it. At least I was getting some rest those last couple weeks of my sentence, even if it was only a quarter of an hour each time. In my mind, it added up to something substantial.
It was now getting close to my release date and decisions needed to be made about my chances of maintaining the productive state I was in with my recovery. The uncertainty hung over my head like a dark cloud. Somehow, I still held some determination to keep myself clean and make some serious changes in my life. So, I made up my mind to make that difficult phone call to my mother.
She answers and hears, “You are receiving a collect call from an inmate of a correctional institution. Your call will be monitored and recorded. Thank you for using GTL.”
I am sure every time she heard this recording certain strong emotions flooded through her veins.
I swallowed my pride and just started speaking, “I know we’ve briefly discussed this before, but I strongly believe that living with my family again is my best chance at keeping myself clean and out of trouble.”
There was a pause in the conversation. One that felt like a lifetime; a pause that caused an immediate physical reaction. My heart was pounding, my hands were sweating so much that the phone started to slip in my hand. My stomach was doing backflips and I wasn’t able to inhale the proper amount of oxygen at this point.
“Mom?” I asked.
I had to make the first verbal offering after proposing such a perceived crazy notion.
“Kali, me and your dad have talked many times about you coming back home with us,” she said and slowly continued, “we aren’t sure where this is going to go, but I’ve started making a room for you in our home. You are welcome here if you keep doing the right thing.”
I gasped in disbelief and replied, “It may not be very valuable, but I give you my word that I won’t let you down this time, mom. I love you so much. Thank you.”
As much as I knew their support was my greatest chance of success, I didn’t believe I would be given the opportunity. The hopelessness of my addiction had taken over not only my body but the thoughts in my mind as well. I didn’t think I was worth saving, so I wasn’t willing to save myself… until now.
My last few days in jail seemed like they were the longest. The anticipation of returning to society was overwhelming. Not only was I going to be joining the “free world,” I was going to be starting a new life. A new life in a new environment with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet, but new opportunities I became passionate about. I was excited and frightened all in the same breath. Each one of those breaths within those last days I was more than grateful for. Before I was released, I had to appear in court in front of the judge. During the hearing, the judge determined, among other requirements, I was to attend substance abuse treatment, and much to my surprise, I was looking forward to exploring this. I was more than ready to dive into recovery and all it entailed head-first.
I made a final call to my mother.
“We went and picked up Pedro, Kali. He was so happy to see us. He immediately jumped in the car,” my mother told me.
So much joy rushed over me when I realized this was truly happening and she had picked up my dog. He was finally out of that toxic environment as well.
“Are you going to let us know what time you’re going to be released so we can pick you up?” she asked.
“Absolutely. But I don’t have any clothes or anything, mom,” I told her concerned about how I was going to gather my belongings.
“We already went over there, Kali. We had Brooke point everything out to us, packed it up, and hauled it home,” she told me much to my relief.
I began to cry. “Home,” she had said. Everything was falling into place. I would be going home when I walked out the doors. Such a sense of calm and peace rushed over my body. This wasn’t the first time that I realized it, but I knew at this moment that all that had happened, as uncomfortable and traumatic as it had been, happened for a reason. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover my attitude toward this entire experience. I know that I would never have gotten clean unless it had been for this arrest and the unavoidable sentence to serve time in jail. This experience is one I will never forget. It remains close to my heart and I will continue to look upon it with gratitude for the rest of my life. The strength I exhibited throughout this time helped me to believe in myself and my ability. I believed I was worthy for the first time in a long time, and I knew in my heart that if I was resilient enough to overcome this that I could make it through anything life decided to throw at me.
I don’t really understand why, but lately I have been having some serious weak moments. I am trying so hard to remember that I cannot always be this strong person I portray. Something that I have continually struggled with is admitting, asking, or verbalizing moments where I am in need of help or support. I am surrounded with some truly amazing people that want to help me through these difficult times- but I have this part of me that feels like I am a burden or that I am unnecessarily adding things to their plate that are not their responsibility.
It’s odd to me that I can spew all these things that I have learned. “It’s okay to ask for help,” “This mess cannot fixed overnight,” “Everyone needs support”… I don’t know- things along those lines. I have learned so much in the last seven months it is absolutely incredible. After believing that I had all the tools to take on this new chapter of my life- thinking “I got this.” I was awakened to so much more knowledge- yet I was just recently told that I am having trouble letting this knowledge transfer from my brain to my heart. And I completely feel that. It will come with time- another cliche that I constantly tell myself.
I just want everything right now. I want it all to come together the way it should have years ago when I was out being a dumbass. I struggle with that. I want all the things that healthy, “normal” people acquire and accomplish. Now. I don’t want this process to be the journey that it must be. I want instant gratification and I want to do it all on my own.
This last week has truly been a test on me in many aspects. Emotional roller coaster at its finest. I find myself swimming in my thoughts all too often lately. Feeling like I am not good enough, I am not doing enough, and that it will never happen for me. I need to remember that every day I accomplish something on my to-do list. I am moving forward even if it’s at a slow and steady pace.
Funny story I just remembered. I went into a facitily for a few months and there was a section of the program that focused on the importance of taking on this whole recovery process slow and steady. To break up the monotony we had a craft that we were supposed to do. We made turtles. The girls there actually were so impressed with my silly little turtle that they had me make another for the display we made on the wall with them. It was a cute little thing. I ended up taking my turtles with me when I left and I think it may be a good thing to hang them up. To remind me that I don’t need to expect everything to happen now, that this truly is a journey and I was put in this position for a reason and there are definitive things that I am supposed to learn and experience during this process.
Wow. Just writing some crazy random thoughts here has helped me purge some of this. I am doing okay. I am doing everything I am expected to do and I don’t need to overwhelm myself. These people were put into my life for a reason and even though I continue to remain open with them, it is okay to ask for support when I need it. I have a hard time accepting that I am worthy of their love and support. But I am- they think so and I need to think so.
I jumped out of an airplane. No joke. I did it. Something I have long been wanting to do, and this wonderful man made it happen for me. We jumped at the opportunity (pun intended) and with both feet… just did it. It was absolutely exhilarating. I have never felt so free in my life. What an experience. At this point, nothing in my life compares to it.
When I say “free”… I mean it. In every sense of the word. Free of all the baggage, free of all the negativity in my life. Free of everything that was previously holding me back and weighing me down. It motivates me to continue to work hard to build a better life for myself so that I can continue to have experiences like this.
I experienced some truly raw emotions during all of this and it reminded me of the kind of human I strive to be… an open, honest, genuinely raw, vunerably REAL human being. Thank God for freeing me of my past and allowing me to find my truest self.
Below is a video of the whole event. Now, I’m self-conscious of how much weight I have gained since getting clean… but seriously, screw it. I love this new me, and if this is the skin I’ve been given to exist as this new me in- then I love every inch of it!
Even though I am having trouble writing all of my deepest, darkest secrets out… I’ve got it in progress. It’s so much more that I would have ever thought to start writing. But at the same time it’s therapeutic. I know in my heart that this is something I need to do, for myself.
I decided to take a break from it though. Reliving the past is something more difficult than I would have imagined. It’s something so shameful to me. And until recently I didn’t truly realize how much shame and guilt I carry around for the things I have done. But I will be candid here and just say…
I am a recovering addict.
That’s something I never would have dreamed in a million years that I would have to claim, or have to live with for the rest of my life. I come from a good family, had a great childhood, was successful, and driven, and had so much going for me. Even still, it happened. And it’s something that I have to deal with. Something that I am currently dealing with.
I know now deep in my soul that everything happens for a reason. I needed to go through what I went through in order to come out the other side as this new, enlightened person. There is no way that I would have been lead to the things and realizations that I am currently met with if I had not become an addict.
I’ve heard many people that know me personally say things like “I want the old Kali back”… and you know what?! The old Kali is dead and gone. The addict Kali has disappeared as well. And I don’t want either one back. Because this new Kali, she is the best version of me that I can and ever will be. I plan to continue building upon this new version of me because we can never stop learning how to be better. When we stop growing… we stop breathing. So until the day I die, I will continue to develop this new person that I am.
This is truly a new chapter. Screw that. This is a completely new book. Let’s throw the last one in the burn barrel and never look back.
I understand it has been months, and months, and months since I have written anything on here. My life took an unexpected turn and I wasn’t as focused on my writing as I had been previously. Well, actually looking back it has been extremely sporadic.
I think I have struggled with the vulnerability factor here. Like… what to share and what to hold back. I have a fear of what kind of repercussions could present themselves if I write honestly and vulnerably. However, I am learning that true vulnerability is strength. And sharing my story, even parts of it could truly help someone else. Even if it were just enabling them to identify with someone else having gone through similar things.
So, I have made a decision to be an open book about some things. Making the decision to change my career path kind of pushes me into this sort of work anyway, so why not just spill it all out?! And if not for someone else’s benefit getting all of this out will definitely benefit myself. Even if I just regurgitate the information so it ingrains itself in my mind.
I guess what this post is saying is that very shortly I will share what I have been through in this last year.. and it’s quite a juicy account. 😉
Received this amazing message quite late in fact from a fan who can’t even provide a valid email address. Obviously, opinions are like assholes… we all have them. And without them, this world would be a boring place. But please, if you feel the need to offer up such compliments I would appreciate at least one random avenue where I’m able to show my appreciation.
A lot has happened since my last entry. Some things that I’m proud of, some things I’m not so proud of. It might take me some time to start divulging some of that information because only Lord knows who is actually reading this.
I walked myself into a careless situation which caused a severe loss of freedom. I don’t even know how to describe the things that I was forced into experiencing. I’ve never felt the way that I did the last month of my life. Yet, so many beautiful things were formed from this experience. It sounds so damn cheesy to say it, but I literally got a new lease on life. So much of this world is ugly and painful… but beautiful things come from the brokenness that we live through.
I’m going to just write some bologna that hints about what I’ve been dealing with. I think it’ll be easier that way.
Loneliness set in
the pain immense
trying to breathe
It’s all natural
living like this
for so long
Too much energy
Continuing to circle
swirling water carrying me
Can’t grab hold
on my own
too proud to ask
Nothing can be done
not without me
death or near it
it’s all my choice and
Takes a whirlwind
of situations to
force us out of
Curly Kali Sue
Not for lack of ideas, memories, imagination dancing around in my head… but more-so due to all of the external situations playing out in my daily life. There have been some very serious things happening, that have been requiring a lot of my attention.
Please accept my apology for the neglect I have been giving you.
Tomorrow I will make it a point to post some more updated writing and information. Promised!
After one of the most eventful and taxing sets of 24 hours I have had in quite a while, I am speechless. I don’t even know where to begin. It has been such a disastrous day… like, literally exactly 24 hours to the minute I was trashing an immense amount of personal evolution. Things were just starting to come together. Almost ”full circle” as some may say. But just picture a nearly complete circle and then the worst parts of yourself taking an eraser to every last millimeter you had accomplished to draw. Absolutely ridiculous. I am so completely PISSED at myself it cannot be expressed in mere words.
Anyhow… I’ll elaborate at a later time.
Well, within the past two weeks I have checked out close to thirty, maybe even forty, books from the local library and blogging, coding, and everything in between… I know I haven’t managed to make this website much of anything yet… but I promise I am getting there!
Here’s my current arsenal of books… 25 total. So then I have probably neared borrowing 60 or 70 books thus far. Haha
If you’re a regular reader of mine, you may have noticed the tone of my posts has changed from positive to negative in a short matter of time. Believe me… I am trying hard as hell to keep my thoughts optimistic but it has been harder than usual to maintain. It’s as if life likes playing games with me. Things will be so good… and then here comes a curveball… a curveball that made me strikeout.
However, I will always keep faith that it’ll change for the better again soon.
The Lord will never throw me anything that I can’t handle- right?
Two days in a row I have managed to visit a place I have not explored in probably close to 7-8 years. Which is actually fairly strange because it’s an incredibly useful spot. Furthermore, I love to read and the amount of books there is unfathomable. That’s right- you guessed it… the library. Surprisingly, Toledo has quite a few of them all neatly spread throughout the city.
I was in the downtown area the other day and happened to pass the main branch of our local library and noticed they had reopened after closing their doors for renovations that took nearly 9 months to complete. But let me just say the updates are stunning. They preserved a lot of the original classic architecture and added a modern feel to some areas. Yet every area includes the most current technology which allows patrons to independently fulfill whatever needs they may have… but just around the corner you’ll find a staff member for any possible questions or issues you might run into.
Anyhow, on this spontaneous trip to the library I searched their electronic catalog for resources regarding creative writing or journalism references. To my surprise there are countless books explaining everything I am eager to learn about how to be a better writer and possibly start making a living with it. That right there, ladies and gentlemen, is what I want to do when I grow up.
After parusing various how-to books I finally discovered more specific writings on creating a memoir. Something I have long been anxious to do. Not necessarily because I have lived the most interesting life, but because I have a story to tell. Life lessons to share. Memories to relive in order to gain a greater understanding of them.
I borrowed 12 separate books on the subject and plan to spend the next month dissecting them so that I can make this long awaited dream a reality. Hopefully it will not only be a dream come true, but a therapeutic experience that’ll benefit my emotional maturity.
Stay tuned! 😉
Rapidly swirling, twirling…
Which way is up? Because I know which way is down.
It has become evident that it is always the same. Everytime I think it’s going to turn into something good, I find out I’ve been deceived.
Deceived by my own hope and faith.
It appears all is wasted. There is no hope and I’ve lost all faith.
When will I find where I belong?
Is there such a place?
I can not even begin to review all the things in my life that have changed within the last few years. Most definitely changed for the better. A few took a turn for the worst before they eventually morphed into something good. But honestly, I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am finally beginning to get acquainted with genuine happiness in my life. I have never truthfully thought that I deserved to be happy. I settled for many things in my life. And by settle, I mean accepting anything that presented itself as easily obtainable. I have this idea in my head that the universe, and God, presented me with certain things for a reason. But up until now I assumed all of these people and things were meant to be permanent fixtures in my life… but that isn’t the case and I am so glad I can see that now.
I have the chance to start a new chapter in my life and I am jumping at the opportunity. I have big dreams for this next period of my life… big dreams for nothing but happiness. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
I’ve spent countless moments soaking in all the happiness I can empathize with on the faces of those I love and hold dear. For some reason that has been enough for me throughout nearly the last five years of my life.
It has been my pleasure to experience my younger sister finding her soulmate and building a beautiful family with two amazing little girls. And then there are my father and mother who have worked back-breakingly hard to raise my sister and I while providing all a family demands (and much, much, more) for most of their lives– these two are now partially retired where my mother works part-time remotely (from home or wherever) and my father goes into work a couple days a week… and that’s only when they’re in town! For around four months every year they travel the states in their luxurious RV spending pure quality time alone together, on the road experiencing God’s beauty- while they are still young enough to thoroughly enjoy it as they should! I can’t forget my animals though. Words simply cannot express how much job Pedro and Silas give me… just by existing, but mostly when I can see they’re happy.
Anyhow… my point is: it’s MY turn. I want to focus on my own happiness. I want to live my life to experience that warm feeling you get in your heart and chest when you reach the pure emotion of joy. I choose to live each day forward, working closer and harder toward that physical feeling of joy; as well as to show others how such a wonderful thing feels.
Pretty cheesy isn’t it?! haha
I guess today makes fbe ”official” launch of my nonsense website. Although I have been fiddling with it for a few months now- I finally swallowed my insecurites and decided to post a public link to my website on Facebook and start sharing the web address as much as I can. I am hoping that knowing even one person might be reading it out there, somewhere… will keep me motivated to stay active with it.
Anyhow, if anyone is reading this that follows me on Facebook- I know I had scheduled the launch of this site for yesterday but I hoped to devote more time into pulling some of the things here together. Yet with most things I do, there still wasn’t enough time. I’m not sure if it’s just me, or if all artists feel similarly about their creations. I am incredibly critical of my own work. It is never good enough, there is ALWAYS something missing, there will always be room for improvement, and there is always something specific that I pick out that is particularly wrong with it… I think to myself “maybe if I stare at it long enough it will come to me I can do that will make it better, make it complete. Then maybe I will relax and enjoy whatever it was that I made. Appreciate it for what it is. THEN, and only then, I will feel comfortable enough to make a living doing it. I wish I could explain WHY that is… so if someone can explain this unfixable insecurity I have regarding my art I would be so completely indebted to you.
Honestly. That has got to be the scariest thing in this life. That when you meet someone, or hell- even build a relationship with someone you can never be 100% sure of what their intentions are with you or in your life. If you’re lucky enough to be a forgiving, benefit-of-the-doubt-giving person like myself… you’ve been trampled on time and time again by people who aren’t true to their word. Sweet sugary words come out of their mouths, but they never mean a single word of it. You turn your back and BAM! they’ve stuck one of your own kitchen knives in your back.
However, if there is one thing I’ve learned from being played over and over again it is this: stay true to yourself. Even if it may cause you some pain, it is worth it in the end. It is that nasty person’s loss not your own.
Just recently someone I trusted turned out to be one of these nasty people. They formed their own backwards idea of who I was and decided to use their assumptions to try and hurt me. Hogwash. They didn’t deserve to be a part of my life and it is only their loss in being a part of my world. I can still hold my head high and feel good about who I am because I can now see their true colors. Kind of ironic that the last post was about seeing MY true colors. And now… I see other’s.
You live and you learn.
Not sure if that title truly will fit this post, but my niece absolutely loves that song and will sing it over and over again… and just the thought of that is uplifting my current mood.
A lot has transpired within the last 48 hours and I am having a really hard time wrapping my head around it all. I feel like I am doing all that I am supposed to but somehow I keep coming up short. I can’t tell you how much I beat myself up for even the smallest mistakes or slightest failures. Then there is always someone who feels the need to add to it.
There are too many days where I don’t know which way is up… or if I’ll ever get there. But I keep waking up each day reminding myself that each morning brings another chance to get things right. I can honestly say I don’t know the person I have become. Little by little I can see the better parts of me starting to shine through…
I can only hope that soon enough those I love will see my true colors.
In between a rock and a hard place 99% of the time. Never knowing which way to turn trying to prove to myself and so many others that I am doing the best I can with all that I can. But because of my pattern and past behavior, this is like trying to teach them an entirely brand new language. I doubt myself more than I have confidence, I am depressed much more than I am proud, I am sinking so much more than I feel I am staying afloat.
Someone recently told me that it may have taken me a year to demolish everything I had… good, valuable relationships, secure, good-paying jobs, friends I could trust… but it may take me ten years to rebuild all that I’ve destroyed. I pray daily that I keep the motivation to do that.
I’m embarking on a new chapter in my life… one where I have made the commitment to share my home and sanctuary with another. Granted, I deeply and truly care for and trust this person with all that I am- but it has been far too long since I completely combined and shared my space and my belongings with someone. The last two places I lived with another person I kept a majority of my things packed. A sign of my hesitation. But here I am, taking a leap, letting go, and having faith.
So, since I am out of the loop as far as ”cohabitating” I have been doing oodles of reading on the subject and how to make it a smooth transition.
Did you know that more couples than ever are cohabitating before getting married?! It only seems natural to test the waters, right? And if you’re already spending a lot of time with your partner, it might not feel like a big deal to take the next step… right?!
When you’re in a long-term relationship with no ending in sight, it’s natural to get to a stage where moving in together makes sense. Here’s a few things I need to keep in mind from what I’ve been reading…
Your space is no longer your own.
I’d had my own room or space pretty much my entire life. It didn’t matter what my place looked like because I was the only one living in it. Once I moved in with my partner, I had to confront the fact that I was no longer the head of household and I could never consider our place as only mine.
Your partner probably won’t appreciate your clutter.
Your partner’s sensibilities will be somewhat different from your own, and this could be a source of tension unless you make peace with it.
As a writer and a big reader, I am used to being surrounded by books and papers. My love of art and creating means I have an enormous amount of art and craft supplies.
My partner, who’s more interested in cars, tools, and electronics, owns a wide array of completely different possessions. Then being a long time bachelor his sense of organization differs greatly from that of my own. I can see myself struggling to cope with his cluttered but creative approach to home life, and it taking a while to find a happy medium that doesn’t drive us both crazy.
Small kitchens aren’t made for two people, but cooking for two is better than cooking for one.
If you’re lucky enough to live in a huge house with a sizable kitchen, I envy you! Navigating a smaller kitchen should be no big deal when living on your own, but sharing one with a partner can quickly become a frustrating experience.
Thankfully, we both enjoy sitting down to eat dinner together most nights, and cooking for two is so much better than making food just for yourself.
It’s nice to come home to your favorite person every night.
If you’re used to spending most of your time with your partner before moving in together, it might seem like actually sharing an address won’t be that much different, and in a way, it isn’t. Still, it’s a comforting thought to know that when you come in from a rough day at work or you just want to cuddle and watch TV, your significant other will be there to oblige.
Admittedly, I initially underestimated the simple pleasure of having my partner with me every night without fail, but it’s one of the best things about living together.
Compromising is more important than ever.
After making decisions only for yourself for many years it’s easy to anticipate such a transition being somewhat rocky.
Your saving grace throughout the experience will be your willingness to compromise.
Whether it’s on the color of the new sofa for the living room or what to eat for lunch, make sure to try to accommodate each other’s preferences and needs as much as possible.
When you fight, taking a breather may not always be an option.
When you’re in a relationship but not living together, you can easily take a step back after a fight and get some time and space to yourself. You don’t have to call, text, or see each other until you’re ready. That luxury goes away when you’re cohabitating.
I’m someone who really likes to cease all communication with my partner after a fight until I’ve cooled off. Instead of being able to retreat to my own apartment to do this, I’m relegated to another room at best now that I’m living with my partner. It’s not the ideal situation, but we can make it work.
It’s no longer impossible to hide your flaws and idiosyncrasies—you and your partner’s flaws are on full display.
Hopefully, by the time you’re ready to move in with your partner, you should be way past the stage of trying to seem like a perfect, superhuman version of yourself and be comfortable showing your less amazing sides. If you’re not already, you soon will be when you’re actually sharing a place.
They’ll smell your morning breath, see you ugly cry over some cheesy primetime drama, and know that you leave your dirty socks on the floor six feet from the hamper instead of in it.
The same goes in reverse – all the things your S.O. may have tried to hide from you will be on full display, so you’d better make peace with them if you want things to work.
Nights in are a whole lot more tempting.
When you’re living with your favorite person, there’s way less impetus to actually get off the couch and go out to do things. After all, you don’t need to meet them anywhere since you’re already together, so why not order some Chinese and hit up Netflix from the comfort of your shared home, sans pants?
It seems like the longer two people live together, the less likely they are to get all dressed up and hit the town because they become way too comfortable at home. Sometimes it takes a while to realize that you haven’t actually gone out on anything resembling a proper date in months. It can be a good idea to make sure to do something outside the house at least a few times a month.
Sometimes you’ll want to go out just to get away from your partner.
As much as I love living together, I’m also an introvert at heart. Sometimes you just want some alone time with no one else around to do your own thing.
When this happens, you may want to try going into town to sit and read or work in Starbucks for a while, or go for a walk around the local shopping center, even if you don’t need anything. Doing this restores some sanity and means you can return to my old self by the time you’re home again.
Missing your bachelor/bachelorette pad isn’t an uncommon occurrence.
I wouldn’t want to go back to living without my partner, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes think back on my days of living alone with a bit of wistful nostalgia. For instance, I miss not being on the receiving end of a raised eyebrow when yet another package full of new release hardbacks arrives.
You learn to love each other in a new way.
Navigating the tricky waters of cohabitation hasn’t been easy, but it has been an incredibly rewarding experience that has resulted in a strangely harmonious life full of fun, laughter, and a whole lot of love for my partner.
Yes, I loved her before we moved in together, but experiencing the ups and downs of figuring out life under one roof has brought us closer together than ever before and deepened our love in a really special way. I couldn’t have asked for more.
For the last, hmmm… let’s say eight months, I have been dealing with three main individuals whom consistently and habitually jump to conclusions regarding my own personal thoughts and feelings. I am begging someone to teach me how to read someone’s mind… because that is definitely one skill I have never mastered. These particular people don’t just jump to the most obvious conclusion either. They assume that when they can’t see what I am doing, hear what I am saying, or any possible unknown factor is involved that I am the most horrible person in the world. Now, I have always strived to be the most honest, open, humble, simple, and straightforward person I am able to be. But for some reason, these three individuals whom have known me for a majority of my life believe me to be none of those things.
I am so tired of being second-guessed and doubted. When I kept to myself I had no one else to answer to. I only had to worry about myself, my dog, and my cat. Everytime I tell one of these people that I missed their call because I was sleeping, or maybe in the shower… normal everyday things… they somehow think I set fire to their house, killed one of their family members, or am having them arrested (obviously these are completely off the wall scenarios and these are not the specific things they really think… but they are just as exaggerated).
Please pardon the ”rant” and ”ramble” you are about to read…
Many years ago I formed a fairly solid belief regarding two different English phrases that Americans use FAR TOO OFTEN. With relentless abuse of these two separate sets of words it has inevitably caused the phrases to mean less, and less, and lesssssss over time… eventually resulting in two very important expressions meaning absolutely nothing.
The first one being ”I’m sorry.” I cannot even begin to tell you how terrible I am with how much I say this to people, even completely random people whom I would never truthfully apologize to in circumstances where it’s unnecessary. I’ve started to use it as a way to say ”excuse me,” or when I’ve been too blunt (and am not really sorry), or random situations such as these where these words aren’t truly appropriate. So when it comes time to say this to someone in the correct moment, where I am deeply sorry from the depths of my soul, it means absolutely nothing. I guess if you think about it thoroughly though, these words may actually be meaningless anyway. Because ”I’m sorry” never cuts it. Your actions causing you to use those words have already defined you. The only thing that can redefine you is your future actions. I guess what I am saying here is: you’re sorry, not sorry- so quick abusing the statement.
My second ”pet-peeve” phrase (the one of the two I am extremely delicate with is ”I love you.” I am not even sure anyone can truly tell you what love is- but we’ve all experienced a moment where we are daily sure we feel it… or think we do. I can tell when I’m ready to say it and I can usually tell when it’s a good moment to say it. But have you ever noticed when you repeat this phrase over and over, when you part ways, hang up the phone… when you say it all the time, it naturally loses its meaning. Then when you’re lying together, staring in each other’s eyes and this wave comes over you, hits you like a ton of bricks… in those moments when it’s the only thing to be said, it doesn’t mean so much. If you truly love someone, they will know it. They will feel it through your actions, sense it in your touch, they will know without you even having to say so. So why do people feel the need to say it so much?! If I walk out the door tomorrow and don’t return after work- I will know you love me. You don’t have to say so right before I leave- unless I feel it in your eyes or your soft touch against my skin while I open the door releases an energy so powerful it spills off my tongue.
I think those of us who overuse these words do so for our own peace of mind. We apologize to cover our tracks and we tell someone we love them to hear it back. Imagine how much more these two phrases would mean if we used sparingly. Strange to think about.
I have only told three men I have had romantic relationships with that I loved them. I won’t say it back if I don’t feel right about it. And nothing is worse than a man telling you he loves you, for your only comfortable response to be ”thank you.” I had a boyfriend once who was so persistent in telling me he loved me, which I didn’t reciprocate, that I eventually began replying with ”I know”, thinking he would stop. Sure enough, he didn’t.
The problem I think too many run into with the phrase ”I love you” is that there are no other words that can entirely replace them. In my current relationship, because I am so head-over-heels for this man, I want to tell him I love him nearly every second of every single day. Instead of devaluing the phrase I will slide in a few ”I like you”-s and I like to tell him that he’s my ”favorite.” Because I will tell you what, he really truly is my favorite. The point being no other words can fully articulate the emotion and meaning underlying in ”I love you.” You think that would make us more mindful of using the words- but it doesn’t. If anyone ever hears those words come out of my lips they can effortlessly rest assured that I mean what I am saying from the bottom of my soul. I will never tell another I love them for any other reason than the fact that I do.
However, when it comes to saying ”I’m sorry”, I say it on the regular. I am usually fairly conscious when choosing my words, yet not when it comes to apologizing. It fits in all too many situations where it shouldn’t. I am going to start challenging myself more often as it applies to saying ”I’m sorry”. It will be a hard habit to overcome, but once I am able to retrain my wasteful apologies I believe it will have a profound effect on my confidence. Because I am sure somewhere in my subconscious I mentally beat up on myself when I apologize (even in the most simple of circumstances where I am not in the least bit sorry).
Yet, that’s another thing about these two phrases… they should always be uttered confidently. Believing in the sentiment behind the statements is essential to their meaning. It’s hard to comprehend that these phrases have ceased to mean what they once had. They’ve become filler words and all-encompassing statements that amount more in levity than emotion.
Curly Kali Sue
When I was trying to decide upon something to go to college for I wanted to choose a trade or skill which could incorporate two things I am passionate about: art and computers. This realization quickly led me to an obvious interest in pursuing a degree in Graphic Design. After getting my indecisiveness under control I decided to try my hand at it and enrolled in my local community college’s “Commercial Art” program (which was just a unique way of describing graphic design). I completed all necessary prerequisites and when it was finally time to attend core courses in graphic design, I was soon enamored with everything there was to learn. Very early in life I discovered I had a love of computers. When I was just four years old, my family purchased a very basic model Apple (MacIntosh) computer with a black and white display the “Macintosh 128K.” I came to love this machine and could be seen on it daily and for a good majority of each day (if my mother didn’t shut it off if she saw it was becoming excessive and I wasn’t spending much-needed time outside). I have always loved computers and their endless capabilities. Surfing their settings, figuring out new programs, playing with everything they have to offer.
Just as much as I have always had a love for computers- I have had a love for art. At around the same age, my grandmother was teaching my how to paint on canvas. Putting me in her bathtub with an easel, paints, and a brush. So it isn’t so strange that I now combine my two passions in making art on a computer. But… let’s cut to the chase of this entry…
The average person, whether they are tech-savvy or not, doesn’t even come close to understanding all that goes into one simple webpage on the internet. The amount of code involved is beyond their capacity to understand. Then to imagine how long it takes to input that HTML, CSS, or other code (don’t get me started on JAVA) is excessive. It takes a lot of time and effort to design a website. A web designer must program each page, build the sitemap, link up each page and their various elements, creatively design each element, and test the functionality of it all. I don’t think there are too many people in this world that can truly appreciate all that goes into building a website. So let this serve as my “ode” to website design and development. Because as I am designing this very site, I am running into many issues (again… don’t get me even get started on how I have had to overcome my indecisiveness as well) throughout the process and it has taken me much longer than I ever would have expected. So THANK YOU, for your faith and patience!
I’ve been writing the story of the ultimate downfall of my life, which slowly happened, bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece, after my divorce. It has been very therapeutic. While I have been working on writing it all down I’ve been remembering things that transpired throughout this period of my demise which I haven’t thought about in a while. Simple things that I can attribute to my personal life-bankruptcy and the going-out-of-emotional-business sale that followed. Although I realize these things are not solely to blame for the current state I am in, some of these things are in one way or another responsible for my depression, demolishing my self-confidence, and stealing my ambition.
Writing is one of my absolute favorite things to do. Especially since it is a form of therapy and self-reflexion for me. I would go crazy if I weren’t able to release my thoughts and feelings onto paper. I’m not the type of person who often verbalizes my inner-struggles, feelings, or personal battles. I don’t typically like the vulnerability it creates… but I especially don’t like feeling like I am burdening another person with conflicts I am facing. It’s not their problem, it’s mine… so I tend to keep them to myself. But writing them in my journal is a way of releasing them…
I plan to not only share this incredibly personal struggling period of my life and my reflection on the experiences and decisions that helped me to get here; but I will soon be posting my daily entries, just as they are, handwritten on the actual paper pages of my leather-bound journal. Because I am sorry, but I cannot get passed the feeling of actually holding a pen or pencil and dragging it across a page… and I blame my enjoyment in that feeling for causing me to neglect this site. Please accept my selfish-enjoyment apologies. 😉
Each and every day we, as humans left on this Earth, are faced with challenges. Challenges in nearly every facet of our world. We are tested. God tests our strength, our resiliency, our faith, our courage, our trust, our confidence, our loyalty, our ambition, our reliability, our flexibility, our sensitivity, our stability, our discipline, our insecurities, our honesty, our patience, our modesty, our humility, our intelligence…
God evaluates every decision we make, every word we speak, every interaction we initiate, every thought we conceive, every movement we make, absolutely every possible action we execute throughout each and every moment of the day.
Whether or not we choose the appropriate decision… is completely in our hands. I cannot tell you how often I wish it wasn’t. There are too many times throughout the day where I’m hesitant to choose, where I doubt my judgment. I never have any faith in the free will God has given me. I’m completely, infinitely indecisive. This character flaw eventually became visible and obvious. My hesitation was unmistakable and was afflicting my daily life. It was impairing my relationships, damaging my professional performance. As I got older, matured, I was driven to try and understand the reasoning behind it. Why did I not trust my own ability to choose?
This is definitely not my only character flaw I have spent time investigating. I’m sure I am not the only person who believes they should have accomplished more in their life at their certain age. But given the dark period of life I am currently experiencing, I have been compelled to reflect on choices I’ve made, analyze particular behaviors, and evaluate what caused me to act in those distinct manners. I’ve discovered many rationalizations for the personal habits I have.
Since I am focused on my indecisiveness I’d like to explain my theory behind this particular characteristic… my personal explanation for my habitual indecisiveness. It’s hard for me to make daily decisions because I never want to hurt anyone, I wish that the people I love, the company I keep, to be happy… to not experience any hurt or discord. I value each and every relationship I have and I don’t want anything to cause their demise. Especially when it comes to my relationships with my family. I hold their opinions above all. If they view any of my decisions, my choices in a negative way- it kills me inside. So when I’m faced with an crucial, serious decision… my mind goes bezerk. It runs through possible assumptive judgments important people in my life may make, consequences (good and bad) that may come of the choice I make, my mind gets into a tizzy. Sometimes I choose to ignore it and make a quick, irrational decision. Sometimes I avoid the choice completely. Sometimes… I ask someone else to make the decision for me. There are things in my childhood I can definitely blame for this indecisiveness, but I choose not to.
I’m not sure if that makes any sense, but I am definitely working on curving this personality defect… and many others I possess. I work hard, everyday, to be a better person. To please my Lord and saviour with my choices and my daily actions. I hope and pray to one day be the kind of person he wants me to be. I have faith that I will eventually be confident in my decisions, and love the person that I am.
🅘 🅚🅝🅞🅦 🅘 🅗🅐🅥🅔🅝’🅣 🅦🅡🅘🅣🅣🅔🅝 🅘🅝 🅐 🅦🅗🅘🅛🅔…
🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🅵🅰🆁 🆃🅾🅾 🅼🆄🅲🅷 🅶🅾🅸🅽🅶 🅞🅽 🅸🅽 🅼🆈 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🆁🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅽🅾🆆.
ί ƘεεԹ ϯɾψίηɡ ϯσ δσ ϯհε ɾίɡհϯ ϯհίηɡ, ʍαƘε ϯհε ɓεςϯ Թσςςίɓʆε δεɕίςίσης…
ᴵᵀ’ˢ ˢᴼ ᴹᵁᶜᴴ ᴴᴬᴿᴰᴱᴿ ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴿᴱˢᵁᴸᵀ ᴼᶠ ᴰᴼᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴳ, ᴵˢ ᵂᴼᴿˢᴱ ᵀᴴᴬᴺ ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᵞᴼᵁ ᵂᴱᴿᴱ ᴬᵛᴼᴵᴰᴵᴺᴳ ᴹᴬᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᴬᴺᵞ ᴰᴱᶜᴵˢᴵᴼᴺ ᴬᵀ ᴬᴸᴸ.
I̺͆ a̺͆m̺͆ u̺͆n̺͆d̺͆e̺͆r̺͆ S̺͆O̺͆ m̺͆u̺͆c̺͆h̺͆ p̺͆r̺͆e̺͆s̺͆s̺͆u̺͆r̺͆e̺͆ r̺͆i̺͆g̺͆h̺͆t̺͆ n̺͆o̺͆w̺͆, I̺͆ f̺͆e̺͆e̺͆l̺͆ l̺͆i̺͆k̺͆e̺͆ I̺͆ w̺͆i̺͆l̺͆l̺͆ b̺͆e̺͆ c̺͆r̺͆u̺͆s̺͆h̺͆e̺͆d̺͆.
I KEEᑭ TᖇYIᑎG TO ᔕTᗩY ᑭOᔕITIᐯE, ᖇEᗩᒪIᘔE TᕼEᖇE Iᔕᑎ’T ᗩᑎYTᕼIᑎG I ᑕᗩᑎ ᗪO TO ᑕᕼᗩᑎGE TᕼE ᑕIᖇᑕᑌᗰᔕTᗩᑎᑕEᔕ… EᔕᑭEᑕIᗩᒪᒪY ᖇIGᕼT ᑎOᗯ, Iᑎ TᕼIᔕ ᗰOᗰEᑎT.
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I wish I could write each and EVERY day. Somehow, that just isn’t possible. Believe it or not, but this adult American existence is draining. So, for today… I will leave it as this:
Don’t get so busy building your life that you forget to enjoy it.
There’s this strange thing that happens when you release the words in your mind and heart, the words that flow through your soul. Something happens when the ink of your favorite pen permeates paper, when your fingers drum the keys on the keyboard, when the movement of your lips and tongue conspire to form sound… you allow your words to morph into an entirely new creation. Your words transform into something more than a thought, something much bigger. In a sense, your words become real. Your words take on an actual physical shape. From that moment forward there are endless possibilities for them. You can store them to refer to in the future; but there is something more important you can do with your words, something that can ultimately change the world… you are able to share them.
I have been writing for most of my life. I have so many journals that document memorable moments in my life. My first boyfriend, my first love and subsequent heartbreak, my first party, many struggles between my family and I, and so much growth throughout the life that I have lived so far. I have always enjoyed the feeling of a pen in my hand and how it feels when the tip drags across the paper. This electronic version of my materialized words is something very new to me. I have been hesitant for years, but after reading a blog the other day that touched my soul… I feel the need to add my words to the online environment so that maybe one day my words may touch another as hers did mine.
I was reading an article online the other day, in the midst of a very dark moment in what seems to be an unrelenting depression, about a woman experiencing a completely unrelated dark period in her life… I’m not even sure how I happened to come across this woman’s article (although I tend to get lost in links, clicking from one page to another and venturing far beyond the original topic I was reading about). I was trying to find articles that would give me hope while searching for a light at the end of this dark tunnel of depression while facing inevitable consequences of ignorant, moronic decisions that were made blindly in this darkness. However, this woman radiated strength and hope in her words as she wrote of her tragic experience with losing her child at birth. I believe her goal was to share her journey with others who have also experienced the same loss due to the unrelenting horror of a condition known as Anencephaly (which, until I read her blog I had no knowledge of). This condition causes the fetus, and eventually the baby, to develop a brain stem yet no brain, nor top area of the skull. I could never imagine having to live through something so truly tragic, heart and soul crushing. Her experience was undoubtedly infinitely more difficult, accompanied by a much more immense amount of pain than the circumstances which I am going through. There is one thing I know for certain, though. And that fact is that God lead me to her words. They touched a part of my soul I hadn’t felt in ages. Her blog entry inspired me to create this website, my own personal online journal. So that I can finally make the transition from pen and paper journaling to sharing my life experiences with any and every one who may stumble upon them online. All in the hope that maybe, just maybe, some of my words might touch another aching soul scrolling through random articles in search of their own light at the end of their own never ending dark tunnel.
Here are a few excerpts from her blog that truly touched my soul (the specific sentences that reached out to me are formatted in bold text):
“People will say things to make me feel better like “This was God’s plan” – and I agree that God has all things under control, but I do not believe that God ever desired – or desires – these types of devastating things to happen to us. Sickness and death, pain and sorrow, are a result of sin. God never wanted us to have to endure these things. But because of the fall of Adam, we do – and so He promises to be with us through it if we believe in Jesus. And He promises that when this life is over, all who believe in His Son will live forever in heaven with no sickness or death, no pain or sorrow.”
“And my God…. He swooped me up as I walked out of that ultrasound, forgetting all my distance from him in the past, and loved me with a love so undefiled….He carried me with strong arms that refused to let go… He walked with me through the valley of the shadow of death, guiding me with the light of His Word and comfort in His promises and gave me peace in the midst of my storms…. and He is with me in the aftermath, patient and steady… calm and consistent…true and everlasting.“
And while I sit and wait, cry and smile, hurt and long for her… I don’t do it alone and I don’t do it without hope. My God is with me – and He is stronger than any scheme of hell, even when I am very weak.”
She also cited these two verses from His Word…
2 Corinthians 4:6-12 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
Romans 5:3-11 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Here’s her site that I stumbled upon… and touched my heart:
Words will never begin to be enough to describe all my love for you. But just thinking of you makes me write this.
You are the one I love with all my might, the one I’m thinking of every night. The one that helps me make things right. The one I dream of when I sleep at night. The one I think of when I hug my pillow tight. The one I’ll never give up without putting up a fight.
I know I will never love another the way that I love you. I have thought at some moments in my past that I had experienced love.
But battered by life I came to you with all my heart. After all these years I still felt an irresistible attraction, an uncontrollable urge to be yours. I wanted you for myself, entirely, infinitely. I started to forget my wounds, and I merged into you. I desperately aspired to be the one that you wanted, just as I wanted you. Never before had I imagined that here on earth such a connection could exist. Never before, until you.
I’ve heard people say “I love you to the moon and back.” With you that statement doesn’t make sense. There and back doesn’t come close to explaining how much I love you. I love you so much more than that, just to the moon and back. I love you to the moon but further. I love you to the moon and back to infinity and beyond, forever and ever. I love you. To the moon and back, and around the stars, out of our galaxy, through the comets and the rings of far away planets. Riding on a rocket ship back down to earth to wherever you are.
This may be silly, cheesy, or cliche… but I wanted to write this for you…
I love you for giving your heart to me, and trusting me with your pride.
I love you for wanting me and needing me by your side.
I love you for the emotions I never knew I had.
I love you for making me smile whenever I feel sad.
I love you for your thoughts of me where I’m always on your mind.
I love you for finding that part of me that I never thought I’d find.
I love you for the way you are and for how you make me feel…
but most of all I love you cause I know what we have is real.
Goodness, my love, there is so much more I want to say to you. So if you’re reading this now… I hope that when I finish this entry… you’ll come back and read the rest. It’s getting late and my eyes are getting heavy. Just know, my love, you are the only one I want, the only one I think of, the only one that will make me feel this way.