Thanksgiving Perspective

Today I woke up slow to a grey morning. It’s not as cold as it has been or could be, so I saddled up the dogs and took them on a long walk around the block. Now I am sitting on my kitchen floor typing this, drinking coffee out of my Atlanta mug to make me feel a little better about missing Thanksgiving yesterday.

We still had Thanksgiving, mind you, that’s why I’m sitting on the floor. The table the computer has been on was used for eating yesterday and is still sitting in the living room. And the microwave is on the coffee table – it’s a mad house. But you do what you have to do in tiny apartments when you want it to feel like home.

The food was good, as was the company. And I basically ate an entire pie. So there’s that. But it wasn’t home. And now I’m drinking an entire pot of coffee, and typing my first blog in far too long to avoid the reassembly of our apartment.

I think I left off a while back in the middle of a project of sorts. And I hate myself a little for not finishing that. You’ll have to forgive me though, there were job interviews and flights and visits. And then all of the sudden I was moving to Indiana. So, I gave up and focused on getting that done and have been a little too ashamed to make the voyage back to the interweb. Especially since I won’t be picking up where I left off. Not yet anyway, or not within the same guidelines. Sorry, but this is my blog and I make the rules. It’s unfortunate for all of us.

I am going to try and write more often though. If only for the sake of my family that is more or less across the country from me. I’m not so good on the communication stuff, so I figure it’d probably be decent of me to at least update this bad boy once in a while.

This Thanksgiving was hard. If not for the fact that it’s the first Thanksgiving I’ve spent away from my family, then because I’m finding it hard to be grateful.

And before anyone jumps down my throat, I should clarify: I’m absolutely grateful for the life that I’m living currently. That I’m able to have freedom of religion, that I’m in a committed relationship, that I have a roof over my head, that I have a job that I love that can pay for the roof over my head, and so on and so forth. I’m blessed and privileged and have nothing to complain about.

But there are problems that exist, that instead of making me grateful for what I have, make me feel guilty. Because what I have far exceeds what they have. Or there are prominent issues that I can’t touch, because the opposing opinion has the majority. We’re trapped in so many destructive and wasteful cycles, but because they taste better or are more convenient, we turn a blind eye to the by-product. I’m not all that thankful for the world we’re living in today.

I don’t claim to have the answers or to know how we could fix all of this. But I will say that I wish we could all slow down. Learn to be grateful for the truly important things, and shape our lives to model that. Focus less on stuffing in every activity, party, event, and coffee date, and spend more time taking care of ourselves and those closest to us. Being that productive is not useful if you have no leftover energy to care about really big things that are happening in our families, country, and around the world.

I’m not thankful for a lot of the messes we’ve gotten ourselves into. I’m not grateful for the moral state of our country, and how some of the worst offenders will hide behind the label of Christianity and preach hate. I’m not thankful that our country constantly seems torn into sides or teams, and that history continues to find ways to repeat itself. I cannot fathom that there are children that did not eat last night.

So many of us have blinders on, we have so much on our to-do lists that we can only focus on the schedule we booked a month in advance. We can only work on getting to tomorrow, because there’s just too much to get done. And while our noses are hidden behind cameras taking pictures of meals that we are so “thankful” for, we’re missing the point.

Perspective truly is everything. Gaining perspective changes everything. It certainly has broadened my faith and strengthened my desire to be a better disciple. I’ve been challenged in a lot of ways, and I hope to act on it. I also hope to write about it.

So while I’m not thankful that we are a glaring problem of a species, I am grateful that there is a God that loves us anyway. And that He has good things planned for us despite the evil surrounding.

It is a grey and misty afternoon, and a tower of dishes threatens to crash from above overtake me right here on my own kitchen floor. And my coffee is gone. So I will go and begin the reconstruction of the living spaces, and try to stay on the thankful side of all of the feelings today.

Look at the big picture, friends. We have improvements to make.

Day Twenty

Okay, so I missed a lot of days. But I haven’t given up! This whole endeavor is more challenging than it should be, and I say that only because I break the rules too often. This is a problem that I acknowledge I struggle with all the time when trying to go against the grain for health reasons or otherwise: there’s constantly pressure to make an exception either from myself or the environment around me. I should not be surprised by this, and if I stuck to my rules hard and fast, it would be a lot easier for the temptations to bypass me, as there would be no more grey area. It would simply be black or white.

So there’s only eight days left in this “month” before I move onto a different kind of fast with food and can bring coffee back into my life. And while I don’t know that I accomplished what I set out to exactly for this month, I wouldn’t call it a total waste. I cheated twice and had coffee on Valentine’s Day and last night at a fancy birthday dinner for the boyfriend, Joey. But never once have I had coffee in the morning, and it really has changed my energy levels in ways I would have never believed if I were not living it. I still struggle to get up in the morning if it is before my natural alarm clock at 9:30, but BEING up is so much easier. The fog of dreamland drifts away much, much sooner, and I’m finding myself to be a lot more alert. Without the aid of coffee. With that being said, I’ve had a few more Dr.Peppers than I feel comfortable admitting. That has absolutely been my weak point in all of this. It’s way easier to order a Dr.Pepper with your meal than to get up and boil water for a french press full of coffee. So I’ve failed there pretty massively.

Spiritually this month has been about conviction. For failing at my fast a bit, it’s been interesting to see the correlation of how and when I indulge myself and get the soda or coffee to how and when I indulge my flesh and willingly partake in sin because of an “exception”. 

It seems to be when we feel we are owed something that we take indulgences and excuse ourselves into being sinful. We tend to believe that we earned it through all our other good works or that it is a debt to be paid to us because we were wronged. 

It’s a tricky concept, being free from sin because of what happened on the Cross and yet still needing to be Christ-like in how we act. But I have a belief that the reason for our command to be following Christ and striving to act as he did is not because he was a republican fundamentalist who wanted to impose rules and regulations on his congregations for thousands of years to come, but because he took on this life in human flesh and knows the best way to avoid the fruits of sin – which is typically abstaining from sin. Impossible to complete perfectly, obviously. But well worth striving for.

It’s gotta be like a horror film up there. “Don’t open that door! Don’t do it! There’s a monster in there and you know it!” Only the door is some bad decision that we’re making, and the monster is whatever badness follows from not ultimately doing what was clearly the right decision.

It’s a little humorous, we can be like dumb dogs that continue to run into the boundary of the electric fence. Each time receiving a more powerful and painful shock, but whatever is on the outside is too alluring to not try one more time. And we don’t learn, we just continue to make excuses and reason with why we HAD to run at the fence again. You know, this time it may have been allowed. We might have gotten through. It would have all worked out, and then grilled squirrel for everyone! 

Sometimes squirrels have rabies. No, just kidding, I’m done with that metaphor.

It’s important to remember that he set the standard for a reason. He doesn’t want us to feel the pain that comes with a sinful life. Not when we are supposed to be his children. When we continue to blatantly sin as children of Christ, we are close enough to be considered related but not intimate enough to feel the bond. And what is that really worth?

So in honor of these convictions, I will try to go a little more black and white with the rules on this water only month. And hopefully will continue to feel inspired to live a little more black and white in terms of sin and doing what’s right.

Day Seven

Yeah, yeah, I missed a few days. So to update you:

• Weekends can’t count for the bedtimes. They just can’t. My people are scattered too far apart for that to be a possibility. 
• I’m not succeeding at the bedtime during the week anyway.
• BUT the caffeine headaches were officially gone on day five. (PRAISE THE LORD) And I am finally starting to see the other side of eliminating coffee in that getting up is getting easier, and maintaining energy is becoming much easier. So I’m going to try and crack down on the rules with the bedtime. Obviously that starts tomorrow, it’s 11:15. Whoops.
• HOWEVER I can smell coffee from a mile away right now, and driving past a Starbucks with a drivethru takes the patience of a saint. I want coffee so badly I could cry. I tried to think of some descriptive words of the coffee I wanna drink and how I want it to taste, but seriously it just upset me and I wrote this sentence instead. So that’s how real this is.

I haven’t been completely absentee, even though I haven’t been posting. There has been lots of reading and pondering and praying. I definitely needed some time to digest as I feel I’ve had a lot thrust on my heart the past few days. I’m continually made aware of a few different points that you probably won’t agree with. I don’t know if I’m up to talk about everything in detail, but I will list the things that have been made apparent to me.

• The devil is real, and we don’t give him enough credit. No, I am not kidding. Yes, I am serious. There is constantly a spiritual battle going on, with a goal of bringing you as far away from the Lord as possible. This is never marked more plainly than by the hardship that follows a conscious decision to follow Christ. I fall into the pattern each time I start a project like this, sometimes you can almost feel yourself being tugged in the other direction. I am dragging myself through this a little right now. And that’s okay.                “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.” Ephesians 6:12
• The church has got it all wrong. At least most of them do. Churches are meant to house the broken, and I’m not going to claim that I am perfect, but the level of corruption I see is insane. When tithing checks are spent on marble floors and no one is reaching out to the community, we have a problem. The church’s approach isn’t working, and is digging her own grave slowly. I know that authentic and real churches that are humble and gospel centered exist, I just personally haven’t found one yet.
• The Christians have got it all wrong. In a time when our roles could be so pivotal, we are sitting with our fingers up our noses. There is hurt and outrage in the country, in the world. And we as the body of Christ have done nothing but shame ourselves as intolerant bigots. I’m not claiming you need to change your beliefs, but I am saying that you need to love your frickin neighbor. Your black neighbor. Your white neighbor. Your Hispanic neighbor. Your female neighbor. Your Asian neighbor. Your Muslim neighbor. Your male neighbor. Your LGBTQ neighbor. Seriously, all of them. Do you have any idea why we are called to act in the likeness of Christ? Because some folks know about Christianity, but they will never pick up a Bible. You are called to be a walking example because that may be the only time they witness the Lord’s unconditional love. The Christians have it all wrong, because even though we are still sinners after committing ourselves to Christ, these “Christians” don’t live lives that would motivate anyone to pick up their cross and follow.      “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you may follow in his steps.” 1 Peter 2:21  ” Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:30-31 “If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much.” Matthew 5:46
• I just don’t have enough brain space to talk about the BS that is the way modern Christians behave, in my opinion. In summary: Totally consumed with themselves.
• I have not overlooked the plank in my own eye, but thank you for your concern. I truly am working on a more Christ centered life, and I hope eventually that it will break through my shell of badly timed sarcasm and do a better job interacting with other humans.

I need to expand on these thoughts, but for now, sleep.

Day Three

Caffeine withdrawals are real. I have had three days of intense headaches that attack me around 11am, and last the rest of the day. I have been suffering through my expectations for myself, and I have to cut myself some slack, or I will just fail at this whole thing. So, here forth, we have adjusted the wake up time and bed time by 1 hour. Bed by 10, up by 6. If I can make any headway with this, I will try and make a switch back to 9 and 5. But I suck, and have been not following the rules. 10 and 6 it is.

I know that half of my struggles are taking place because the way I start my day is weak. And I have a serious problem with waking up. Hello, welcome to why we are taking this step.

The only thing I have readily adhered to is drinking nothing but water. I have had to substitute a few drinks of soda, because really, people, you can’t expect me to kill myself. The moral integrity of the experiment is still in tact, I just couldn’t take the headache, and Advil wouldn’t touch it. So if you must judge me for taking 3 sips of my mom’s Coke at dinner, by all means.

With that being said, the caffeine headaches dropped from sledgehammer to the temple, to just a slight stabbing. For which I am quite grateful. I’ll be thankful when they go away altogether.

What I am reluctant to admit is that I know why I have not been “feeling it” with this fast. We are three days in and this Bologna is not as easy as I originally anticipated. But I also have failed to start the day the way I know it will prepare me for the spiritual battle ahead of me in the day. I am quick to make exceptions and excuse myself on account of how difficult it is.

” So letting sinful nature control your minds leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace.” Romans 8:6

I am increasingly convicted by verses like these, as I continue to recognize that the biggest problem in my life and in my spiritual battle is the war zone in my head. I’m so easily won over to the other side that it makes me nauseous. We make concessions for ideas that sit in the stomachs of our people like a hearty cake, so rich and delicious and exactly what we want. But the fact is that cake is bad for you. And a little won’t kill you, but you’d be a lot better off if you never cut yourself the first slice. And if you gorge yourself on the cake, well, frankly, you’ll be fat and sick.

Maybe that’s a bad analogy. I’m good at those.

“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” John 3:19-21

Wee have problems fully committing ourselves to the lord, because then we’d have to admit that we’re doing a lot of things wrong, and not just wrong, but blatantly sinful and evil.  And then we would have to stop doing some things and make a lot of changes. This is why John said that everyone who hates the light will not come into it for fear that their deeds will be exposed. 

We are embarrassed and shameful. And we fail all the time. Like myself, only 3 days into this thing.

If you pray, pray that I will have the strength to get up in the morning. And enough humility to admit when I am wrong and need to make adjustments to turn myself to the face of God again. Pray that I remember to pray through the headaches, and that God help me take control of my frustration that manifests itself in the form of being ugly to people that I love and care for deeply. Please pray that I don’t give up, and that my body is restored through this process.

Day Two

So it is 7 am again. But I went to bed early, so cut me some slack. This isn’t a real blog, but you can pretend like it is!

Day One

Hi, *coughs awkwardly* so this is weird. Me blogging and everything. Been a while. Somewhat unintentionally. I’ve started many a project trying to get back to blogging, obviously none have worked so far. And yet, here I am. (You’re welcome) Long overdue, but I am back. I also come with good news, you’ll be hearing a lot more from me. The goal is going to be to blog every morning (Lord help me), but please don’t burn me at the stake if I fail. I am on day one of a brand new project/experiment and I have already failed twice. So you know, the likelihood of mornings without blogs is high. You were supposed to hear from me this very morning, and if you own a clock you will find that it is a full 13 hours after I planned on posting this. Oops.

So here’s the deal, I’m doing a thing. It’s kind of a fast. There are programs and books and other aids to follow that accomplish similar goals. So I took the general concept and wrote down what I want to do. You are going to think I’m a crazy person. I might be, I’m okay with it. This is a 4 month thing, and each month I will be “fasting” from something different.

February – Coffee
March – Food
April – Technology
May – Clothes

I used quotation marks on “fasting” because I can assure you that I will not be fasting from clothes entirely, just cutting myself back to 3 outfits. Yes you heard that right, only for a month, and I will be washing the items frequently. Not turning grunge on ya. But I won’t explain much more about that, we’ll cover that in May. For now I’m sure you want to know why I’m doing this at all.

Excess.

I am constantly in awe of how much excess we Americans roll in on a daily basis. We are literally the richest people on the planet and we are wasting it all on stuff. And then we are consumed with that stuff. And then there is new stuff and we get that too. We are not taking time to take care of ourselves, and it shows. I would have included something about finances into a fifth month, but I’ve already drawn up a plan for the year that goes along with this fast beautifully. So it will be left out of this to a degree, though if I’m writing every day, it may come up.

But the fast does help to amplify areas of excess. I hope by decluttering little areas at a time that the Lord will help me discern the areas where I am living in abundance unnecessarily. I do not want to play a part in this consumerism game, I’d much rather be saving money or donating to charitable organizations. Your gimmicks won’t work on me anymore, clever advertisements! Hopefully!

This is also a fast as all fasts are intended to be, to strengthen my relationship with Christ. For the month of February we are focusing on eliminating all drinks but water,  instituting a bedtime, and a wake up time. So my new bedtime is 9pm. Rapidly approaching. And I have to be up by 5am. The goal being to be up in time to have a one on one with God and to post something for you to read about my progress all before I go to work.

I seriously am not happy about this month and am stil questioning why I would intentionally bring upon myself caffeine withdrawal headaches.

I went about 3 weeks in August on just water, and that was much harder. I was way more addicted to caffeine then than I could hope to be now. But let’s get one thing straight: I love coffee. And my boyfriend bought me a French press for Christmas. And I just bought two pounds of awesome coffee from the fresh market. This is not exactly what I want to do.

And at the same time it is. I was supposed to start this morning by waking up at 5, doing some praying, getting this blog done, going all day with just water, and in bed by 9. I woke up at 7, but thanks for trying, Caitlin. And then my caffeine headache was so bad by 2pm I drank half a Dr. Pepper. I know, I’m a failure. But my spirit won’t be broken, because I need some of these new habits to stick.

So I invite you to check in with me, ask me questions about this, and get on to me if you see me breaking my rules. Lord willing, I will have something posted in the morning.

Rep-rep-rep-rep- oh forget it.

I remember my younger self with a sense of envy – I walked around with my head a lot higher those days. I spoke my mind, I wore what I wanted to wear (over and over and over i.e. minnie mouse dress) and I really couldn’t have cared less about what anyone thought. I was just Caitlin with reckless abandon. 

But the world (and the people in it) is harsh, and it stomped on that bright soul over the years. The neck that once stood tall, now hunches and cranes. Every outfit I put on starts with something nice, maybe a dress, then downgrades to a blouse and jeans, which is downgraded to leggings and a large t-shirt because at some point I started to believe I wasn’t worth the dress or the blouse. 

Most people have their stutter when they’re little, their parents take them to a speech therapist and through careful instruction and patience they slowly find it fading away.

I don’t know how to explain what’s going on in my throat, but I guess that carefree little girl found it a lot easier to talk to people than I am now at 21. 

It started coming on after I got my first job. And it completely took me by surprise, I’d never known myself to stutter and at this point I was 17 years old. I have found that it comes on with anxiety, and the first job was the turning point for having to have anxiety AND deal with people at the same time. 

“Thank you for calling Marco’s Pizza, this-this-this is Caitlin”

wut?

Sometimes it is very much like a “normal” stutter.

“I c-c-c-c-can’t waive that delivery fee, no ma’am.”

But most of the time it just makes me sound really dumb. I like to call it more of a stumble than a stutter.

“I can’t waive that dulvr-delv-duli-DE LIV ER Y fee, no ma’am.” 

It got to a point where I was leaving work in tears because I couldn’t just SAY words right. And I was having to screw it all up while performing a job, getting exasperated sighs as I desperately tried to get “mozzarella” all the way out. Or god forbid someone from Debardeleben St. were to order. I would just apologize in advance. I learned to catch it before I would send mutilated versions of perfectly easy to pronounce words into the world. 

“I can’t waive that du- pause – delivery fee, no ma’am.”

It got easier, and I was able to keep it under control without having to quit my job forever. I even went on to work at a call center – we won’t get into that today. 

But dealing with anxiety because of customers at work is kids stuff, lets kick it up a notch. Like confrontations! If someone accuses me of something, we’ll even say I didn’t do it. The adrenaline has already started pumping, because someone’s upset with me, and this can lead to a vicious cycle of repetition. And a little bit of hyperventilating.

“Ididn’t-Ididn’t-Ididn’t-Ididn’t-“

We will never get any closer to knowing what I didn’t do. 

“I can’t-can’t-can’t-can’t-“

CAN’T WHAT!

Thankfully most of these outbursts are kept under control. But every so often. 

I have noticed it’s been getting worse as things have been getting a little faster paced in my life, but it was nothing compared to what the last few days have unleashed on me. The repetition. I just keep on getting st-st-stuck

stuck

stuck

stuck

stuck

FUCK

Okay. 

And I’m finding that it’s not just my words but a pattern I’ve been slowly allowing to unfold in my life. As things end or change or shift it’s like my brain gets stuck on replaying things, even though watching my heart get broken on a loop is not satisfying at all. I keep read

read

read

READING the text messages over and over again like maybe I’ll find one in the mix that says “I’ve changed my mind and I need you”. But all I see are the same hand me down excuses passed around to all the girls. And a strong implication that I’m not love-worthy. And as painful of a thing as that is to hear, I just keep looking and looking and looking at the words. Rep

rep-rep

rep

rep

repitition.

People tell me to stop shutting myself off from the world, opportunities, other people, but sometimes I don’t dare put myself ba

back

back

back 

ba-BACK in the cycle to have the same

same

same

same results.

Bring me to the sea. Give me salty air, short shorts, sandy feet, and long, hot, lazy days. Every day. Lay me down beside the tide and let it wash over me, new and blank, prepared to drop roots. Let the crashing waves be my lullaby, and a cocktail of laughter and seagulls my background music. Lock the door to the house and don’t let me in until long after the street lights have turned on and the rugrats called on home.

Give me a bungalow. One with real shutters to board up tight when the storm approaches. Fill it with books, so that when we’re huddled in the basement, waiting out the thunder, we can revisit our friends living in their hard-back apartments. Let it be simple, so we don’t forget what is most important. Pack people into the rooms and let it know love and friendship. And make sure the walls are happy colors, life is too exciting to have mundane walls.

Plant an orange tree in the backyard. To teach the little ones about reaping what you sow. And to always have fresh orange juice on hand.

May the halls be filled with paws. Scratch the hardwood with nails, and layer it with shed hair. Cover my face with wet kisses every day, and keep me up far too late barking at nothing. Give me indestructible toys, trash spilled across the living room, kibble-that-gives-you-the-runs galore. Destroy my pillow in the most violent fashion you can imagine, but let my heart (and lap) always be full.

Let there be tiny humans. Eventually.

Give me mornings full of dark, hot coffee and warm, fluffy waffles. Let the work be hard but fruitful. Give me handfuls of happy people crammed around my table with the mismatched chairs. Fill my lunches with fat sandwiches and stimulating conversations. Line my shelves with all of the classics, quiet my head so that I can enjoy them. Allow that tree to produce orange after orange, perfect to give to the new neighbors that will come, in time, to enjoy my warm, fluffy waffles. They will teach me to love enchiladas and artichokes. Wrap me up in the heat of the day, fog up my sunglasses, let me slow down for a while. Open me up to let everything sink in. Let my nights be full of cicadas and fireflies. Let the dew settle on our skin as we have one more cold one at 3am just because its Tuesday. Let there be plenty of wine, and plenty of love. Allow me to remind myself that the everydayness of life is beautiful.

We’ll Start With Bathing & Eating

One of the things that people tend to marvel at, and the last little bit of pride I have to hold on to sometimes, is my strength. My ease with forgiveness, how quick I am to move past the bad things, sure as ever that around the next bend is where the good things happen. They tell me I’m gifted in that sense.

The truth is that forgiveness and strength really may not be my fortes. In fact most of my forgiveness comes from a place of just wanting peace, or not wanting confrontation, rather. I am red hot mad in my head, screaming “revenge” with a middle finger up in your direction. I have conversations with myself in the car about how right I am. I pat myself on the back. But it’s not like I want this, I don’t enjoy being angry with people perse, I just get myself all worked up and talk about it for as long as I can to validate that indeed, I was right.

But show me the slightest ounce of anything, you don’t even have to apologize (to be fair, you might not even be wrong), a friendly “hello” or a text message, any ounce of hope that we can go back to the way we were and all of my rage evaporates for the time being. I immediately jump back on board, no more fighting, no more ill will, peace, brother.

That’s not forgiveness. Not really, I don’t think.

And the strength, I don’t know how I was even deemed that in the first place when I am one of the most cowardly people I know. 

But the ones who watch from the outside and hear my story look on at me like a brave little soldier trekking through the rubble of my life. Strength.

No, I think what others see as my strength is this carcass that runs around to do my bidding. This crispy, charred, outer shell. It has been given a handbook on how to handle most social situations, and spits out answers to personal questions in a horrible monotonous manner. “Early Childhood Education Major” “20” “No boyfriend” “Living with my mom” And sometimes an exasperated sigh, followed by a white lie when someone wants to know the answer to a question that involves telling a deeply personal confession to explain the answer that isn’t a societally normal response. The inside is a little girl who is hiding from everything. It’s not strength, it’s a shield. She’s not strong, she’s scared, terrified. She’s just figured out a way to still exist. Hoping eventually she will stretch and fill out her skin. Maybe shed the blackened shell that protects her. 

I was so unprepared for life to hit me as hard as it has, but I have no choice but to get up and move on. Unless we’re choosing ugly alternatives here, and I am not. If there is any strength that I do have, it is very small and only heard when things get really bad. Usually the most it can do is make me take a shower and eat my dinner.

If you are disappointed that I am not the rock hard impenetrable fortress once portrayed, or that I am not Mother Theresa handing out forgiveness like tokens, I am sorry.

But I will take the showers and the dinner and the peace.

If there is anything I have learned it’s that constant movement is the only thing that will keep you going. If you lay back down in the bed you will lay there all day. All week. All month. 

So on the days when all I can do is shower and eat, I do them with gusto. It is movement. My heart needs more conditioning on forgiveness, but if all I can do is make peace, I don’t think that’s so bad. I may not be strong enough to go out and interact with other humans yet, but damn I sure smell good. 

More Tea, Please.

Got off of work at 5am.

Snuggled with dogs until about 6.

Realized I couldn’t sleep.

Been drinking tea since 9am.

Life is a more beautiful place, and I am getting progressively happier. But the tricky part is, that I don’t have anyone to share it with exactly. And when I say that, I mean my friend count is lower than I feel comfortable announcing to the public, and there’s no one I would consider to be my BEST friend.

I don’t want a boy right now,

I just want a companion in conversation.

Someone else who sees the beauty in grace and forgiveness and second chances and blank slates. I want to talk to another individual about how much the world doesn’t make sense to me, and how much I love it.

I want to drink tea and wine and do nothings with a someone.

But girls don’t like me

and boys break up with me

and I only have a few cups of tea left.

I have come to the conclusion that I am a decent and good person who is worthy of being loved, I just wish everyone else would reach that point with me.

I would rather share my last cup of tea with a people like me because more good always comes from sharing. And better words come from community. 

I wish for more tea and more time and more friends and more words.