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And one day it simply slapped her in the face…Life was not a book. Or a movie. Or a song. There was no guy in love with her, wanting to hold her close and make everything okay. There was no quirky best friend for amazing adventures or 3 AM ice cream when her heart was breaking. Family didn’t mean unconditional love and support, or fun get togethers with lots of laughter. Sometimes you are just completely alone. Sometimes life just sucks.

~AMO

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One of the most painful lessons I've ever learned and continue to be reminded of way too often. I abhor the word 'busy'. 

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It's like I barely exist to you anymore. My heart is breaking into a million pieces and I just had most of it finally put back together again. How am i supposed to lose one more person from my life? How am i supposed to lose one of the only people in the world who have ever really made me feel worth anything? Why? How can you just choose this??? I feel like I'm going to die. 

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youarenotyou:

Self care according to the senses:

Scent. Burn scented candles or incense. Pick some fresh flowers or herbs for your home (basil = heaven). Fry onions or garlic if it’s your thing (it’s definitely mine). If you can afford to, buy some essential oils that make you feel...

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When my daughter became a teenager and started developing crushes on boys for the first time, I really started to contemplate the verbal and emotional abuse she was seeing in our home. It's not like I didn't hate the kids seeing their dad treat me like that when they were younger. I did, but the impact wasn't the same. Or maybe I wasn't the same. But the thought of her being talked to and yelled at and put down the way that I was....For the sake of all of my kids, especially her, I knew things had to change. 

When I made a stand after one of the last big fights with my ex and said that no one would ever talk to me like that again, my oldest son said "About damn time, Mom." The funny thing is, today I realized that I still talk to myself like that. As much as I can support and encourage my kids and other people...as much as I can be strong and proud of the progress I make every day...I still have this almost constant inner dialogue going that repeats the things that I heard from my mother and then my husband. And usually it's not even a really overt thing-it's almost unnoticeable. But today, I noticed. Big time. And you know what? I think it's time for that little voice to shut the hell up. If someone talked to the people I love the way I talk to myself, there would be a BIG problem, so this needs to stop. This is me putting that little voice on notice. I'm on to you and your days are numbered. 

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“There’s a bluebird down inside of me …”   One of the most beautiful things in the world is seeing someone for who they really are, from the inside out. You know, that moment when you realize the person you’re talking to has nothing else to hold back or hide for fear of judgment or embarrassment. You are just aware that this person is being honest. They possess a sort of glow, and you feel honored to take part in this act of authenticity.   I met Brittany during my sophomore year in college. We had different friend circles, but were always able to connect on that honest level around one another. No matter how much time passed between our encounters, we had that kind of relationship that always picked up right where it was left off.   I’ve also had the privilege of being Brittany’s friend as she has recently pursued the dream of becoming a singer/songwriter. I think this actually began when we took a vocal class together, in which we basically sang Disney tunes every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Brittany was also learning how to play the guitar at the time, and before I knew it, she was recording an EP. It was very inspirational for me to watch someone discover and develop a passion through which she was able to share her honest thoughts and self with others. And when I heard this song, “Bluebird,” I was filled with awe.   “How do I get to where I’m going, if I’m stuck right where I’m at? How do I get to where I’m going, if I can barely handle that?”   I felt very connected to Brittany and our friendship in hearing these words sung so beautifully, even nervously. But I also felt overwhelmed with emotion because her song asks a question I have always sought an answer for: How do I move forward honestly in life, or even think about the future, when life is so hard in the present moment?   Often, life can feel heavy and burdensome. I know I have felt this way many times. And it is during these difficult seasons when I convince myself it would be best—for myself and for others—to hide my truest self.   That sounds crazy, doesn’t it—thinking it would benefit other people if I hid my own individuality and simply attempted to blend in with the crowd? How can we value individuality and uniqueness, but then choose to blend in? Why do we fear the vulnerability that comes with authenticity? Why do we fear being seen by others?   “There’s a bluebird down inside of me, but I push him down.”   I may not have all of the answers, but I have learned through many of life’s lessons that overcoming fear is worth it to be seen by others—truly seen. Living a daily life of authenticity, however vulnerable it may be, reaps the most life-giving rewards. It opens our hearts in ways that only nourish the relationships in our lives.   Over the past few years, I have learned more about the concept of “community” than ever before. I always thought community simply meant living in relationship with others and learning how to value the diversity of those around us, but there’s more to it. My understanding of community has expanded in many different directions as a result of the people I have met and their role in my own health and well-being. Community is about taking care of one another. Community is about highlighting the vital parts we play in one another’s lives. Community is about intention and shared purpose, about living life fully, with and for others.   Of course, inviting honesty and community with others also allows people to tell us when we are wrong. But as fallible human beings, we need this. What’s beautiful about intentional community is that we can care for—and correct and advise one another, when needed—for the betterment of all involved.   I love the way Brittany sings this song, because her voice conveys the reality that being true and vulnerable in relationships is really hard—but something deep inside us knows we have to try, against all odds.   —Joe TWLOHA Summer 2013 Intern

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This week has definitely been better than last, but still a bit of a struggle in certain ways. When I saw my therapist on Monday, she said this was all perfectly normal and to be expected. I guess she did kind of warn me months ago when she talked about wanting me to be able to self soothe before we did work in certain areas. Awful how bad my memory has gotten over the last nine months or so. Still not so great at the self soothing thing, but I am very slowly getting better about being honest about how I'm really doing with more people. I'm also definitely finding out who my friends really are.

Speaking of friends...I've found myself growing exceptionally and increasingly frustrated with one of my closest over the past few months. Her oldest starts his senior year of college soon and already has a job offer in upwards of $60,000 as soon as he graduates next spring. He'll also be marrying his high school sweetheart next summer. Her other child is about to start college at the same school as her brother and is going to be involved with their dance team. Every week, without fail, I get texts and calls about how miserable my friend is that she is going to be alone without her kids, and how if one more person tells her she's going to love the freedom of an empty nest, or she's going to hate having an empty nest....This started even before the youngest graduated. I truly feel bad for her. Really. Her husband works 24 hour shifts, so he's gone a lot. And I know it's not quite the same as him being home every night, but she's got some good friends and her family is an amazing support to her. But I just sit here thinking, "Um....I'm dealing with a son who I worry about constantly because he dropped out of college and is using drugs on a regular basis, my dad died, I'm in the middle of a divorce, our house is going into foreclosure and I don't know where the kids and I are going to live in a few months, I've been diagnosed with PTSD and can't work right now... In fact, my one big consistent accomplishment is keeping my kitchen clean every day." As much as I love her, I just don't know how to deal with this any more or relate to her issues. I find myself avoiding her calls and my stomach ends up in a knot every time I get a text. I feel like an awful friend. This is someone who has been like a sister to me since we were 14. I know she cares about what I'm going through, but every time she asks how I am, and I tell her, I get "I'm so sorry, honey." and then I get to listen to her stuff. It's an awkward, awful, and yucky feeling. Ugh.

On a more positive note, I've actually gone beyond keeping my kitchen clean this week. The living room has been done top to bottom, and I've been working on pulling out more stuff to get rid of for when we move. I also went out for coffee with a friend yesterday. It's still amazing to me how big small victories can feel. I like it.

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Monday morning I woke up triggered by a very bad and graphic dream. We're talking true nightmare. Thankfully, it doesn't happen as often anymore, because waking up in the middle of a panic attack with my heart pounding out of my chest and adrenaline surging through my body is a horrific way to try and start a day. I saw my therapist that afternoon and got through most of the day fairly well, all things considered, but the rest of my week has been awful. My anxiety level is higher than it's been in months and I can barely leave my bedroom, let alone my house. I desperately need to go to the grocery store and I. just. can't. The kids and I are getting really creative about meals at the moment because there just isn't much here. For me, it's no big deal, because I'm not hungry anyway, but I know to them it is. I feel like a bad mom. I know I'm really not, but I hate that my kids have to see me like this. I hate not being able to go and do what should be simple things right now. I hate being back in this place when I've been doing so much better. I'm taking my Xanax, but the dose that at least takes the edge off of the anxiety makes me so darn sleepy, and I'm already having trouble getting out of bed and facing things. How the hell can one dream do so much to set me back?? My kids were with their dad last night so I called my best friend to come over and "babysit" me because I knew if I were alone I'd be a wreck. She said she wonders if it may be my subconscious fighting the healing process. That I'm so used to living the way I have for so long, that deep down inside I'm scared to get better and face new things, so this is my body's way of keeping me "comfortable" and "safe". That the demons that I know are less frightening than the demons I don't. I don't know. I just don't want to be back in this place. I hate it here.

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I'm stuck in this room

I'm stuck in this bed

I'm stuck in this nightmare inside my head.

The dark eats the light

It always seems night

I'm once again losing my strength for this fight.

I want to be fixed

I'm told it takes time

But how do you win

A war with your mind?

I hate waking up

I hate lying down

I hate that life passes me by while I drown.

My mind was abused

Then my body

My soul

I learned not to trust

To stay in control

(That only works for so long, I now know.)

My edges are rough

My nerves are on fire

I constantly feel

That I walk the high wire.

My fear is in charge

My balance is shot

What you see on the outside

On the inside, I'm not.

I write as release

But hate things to rhyme

This time I say "fuck it"

The story is mine.

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I've been doing a bit better over the last week. My therapist has been working with me on staying in the present moment and dealing with present moment things in manageable chunks. When I remember to do this, it really helps me from getting caught up in an anxiety spiral that soon turns into a tornado. To not be in a constant state of trying to figure out every possible outcome for everything in my future is a really new thing for me. To sit and feel pain without letting it completely overtake me and shut me down... It's not easy and I don't like it, but it's definitely progress. I've been able to be out of the house more, interact with my kids more, be more consistent about getting things done around the house...I could feel yesterday that it was time to pull back a bit, that I've been doing too much, but besides a bit of crankiness in the morning, I was able to stay engaged with my kids and was okay. This morning it was harder because I had a really bad dream and woke up triggered, but I've gotten through the rest of the day relatively well in comparison to normal. Hopefully things keep going in this direction, but I'll admit it's hard to hope because it seems like most of the time when things start going better I suddenly end up taking a couple of giant steps back or sideways. 

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This.

“The smartest thing I’ve ever learned is that I don’t have all the answers, just a little light to call my own.”

I’ve never been one to settle in and make my home in uncertainty. As I’m an introverted, problem solver by nature, questions usually demand that I seek an answer, or at least a probable explanation as to why things are the way they are. Once I’ve sat with a question long enough to develop an answer, I cling to it, tightening my grip as I go, because I like knowing there are reasons behind moments of sorrow, pain, happiness, and joy. I like knowing my life is making a difference and I am living for something higher than myself.

But I am learning that, sometimes, it is OK to not know. Sometimes, people deserve something other than my carefully crafted explanations can provide. Sometimes, circumstances are more profound, more intricate, than we could imagine.

Because the world and all its complexities—its wars, famines, genocides, tragic events, and natural disasters—deserve more than simple explanations.

Because humanity, in all its beauty and devastation, deserves more than pat answers.

I am also learning that it takes so much strength to let go of control. It takes courage to rest without an answer. It takes bravery to sit there, in that place of pain and discomfort, and just simply be. This doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore about finding solutions or determining reasons—but it does mean I have chosen to embrace the mystery and will allow it to shape me, instead of always attempting to define it.

This is hard—so hard—because I am fearful. I’m afraid of becoming someone new. I’m afraid things won’t be comfortable anymore. I’m afraid they won’t make sense.

But I’m finding the courage to stay in this place. I’m beginning to loosen my tight grasp and fall into the beauty of the mystery, because I’m finding that our lives require us to do that. Our lives call us to cast aside our simple answers and to look for the stars behind the dark clouds, even if that means we have to sit there for a while.

Give yourself the grace to probe the heavy questions—the ones that emerge from the deepest places of your humanity—without the pressure of shaping them into something you can always understand. Let the beauty and mystery of that place shape you instead.

“Though it pales in comparison 
to the overarching shadows, a speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole.”

—Samantha, Summer 2013 intern

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Even as a grown-up, there are days that I feel like this.