How to be broken Revision (AKA How to be happy)

So here I sit. Completely... happy. 

You know, I knew it would be alright. I knew it would be the most trying thing thrown at me thus far in my life, and I knew I would get through it. I could feel it in every fiber of my being while I prayed. I guess, I just had this undying hope that it would happen sooner, faster. And that hope consumed me.

So here I am to write it out. And the "how to" format seems to have escaped me for two years now as I look at the keyboard. How could I talk about the lessons I learned as if it were simple enough to write a guide to? I couldn't, and can't still, explain any of it accurately enough. I don't even know how to describe it. Where would I start? Would I begin with explaining what it's like to think the Lord has abandoned you completely? Or do I begin by first explaining the answers I received much later? Or maybe I could just start explaining the way it feels to sit in a car and pray and pray and wonder when the answers are going to come or the love is going to be felt or the trial is going to be over. See what I mean? I have no idea where to start.

I've cried harder than I've ever thought possible. I've hurt more than I thought I would.
And I wouldn't take any of it back.

Now, don't get me wrong. Yes, I probably hated it at the time. That's usually how it goes. Although, I don't anymore. Not like I used to. But I understand now how it worked for my life. How it aided the overall plan. But there's something about the way it felt that nothing else had ever felt like before. Like part of me was missing. I thought maybe it was my left leg. Then realized that no, maybe just the left lung. That's what was making it hard to breathe. But in reality, it was my testimony that was missing. My faith in His plan. 

I did learn something from it then. That I'm my own person and I should rely on myself and no one else. That life moves on. That the Lord knows what He's doing. That faith is all it takes sometimes. That time passes even when you don't move. That life is lived better outside of my bed.

I didn't feel like I was learning anything except for that I would never be good enough. But I've reached that level of goodness that I want in my life. Not perfect, no. But a level I'm content with now and a level that is a good enough foundation.

So yeah. I moved on. But I didn't want to. I wanted to miss everything. I want to feel it. I wanted my life to stand still.
But that was my time to be sad. So heartbreakingly sad. (My computer still thinks heartbreakingly isn't a word. I'm still fairly sure it is.) But I was on the mend without even knowing. Life moves on.

And for now, I'm gonna go crawl in bed and dream of days that are waiting on my horizon. And when I wake up, I promise to appreciate every moment that I breathe a thousand times more than I did today. But if I forget my promise... I'll repeat this process again tomorrow night. Maybe one day I'll remember that I am loved.
And I am happy. 

 

Understanding the way someone else's heart breaks.

I want to talk about everything.
Sometimes, I want to sit down with someone and tell them my life story. Tell them everything, just to make them understand.
The nice thing about friends is that they already know most of it. So when something happens now, they should understand.
The terrible thing about friends is that they don't really know. It's not enough.
When a heart is broken... it's very individualized.
No one situation is exactly the same as another. If my heart has been broken, it's not the same as yours.
So when people try to hand out advice, it's easy to turn your head, roll your eyes, and nod. Because it's almost like you could talk all day, explaining every single detail about how you feel and what led up to that and how you think you're going to feel tomorrow and all the little details but no one is going to understand.
No one.
They'll nod and they'll cry with you and they will say "When I went through something similar..." and then try to give you advice. But that advice isn't going to work for you. Not always.
Almost two years ago I sat right here in this exact place with this exact light on with this exact computer under my fingertips and I typed out my heart break. And almost every day for a few months after that I sat right here and wrote.
I wrote to make people understand.
But not just any people.
I wanted my friends to understand in a way that I couldn't express through talking. I wanted them to read it and just get it and know what to say and how to say it and how to fix me.
And I wanted there to be someone like me in the world. I wanted someone to google something and run in to my blog and spend all night reading it and then message me and say "I'm going through the same exact thing." Then we could talk for hours and everything would feel okay because I wouldn't be alone.

"You know how in Once Upon a Time they take out people's hearts and crush them?"

Yes. Yes I do.
And I imagine I know what it feels like. All the little stages. The moment right before when everything is fine. The moment when you're facing the terrible situation and know what's going to happen. The moment the hand is in your chest and is about to rip your heart out. The moment it's out, beating at someone else's mercy. And the moment they squeeze it, just enough to have you on your knees.

Here's the thing.
No one understands. Not like you want them to or need them to.
No one does and no one will.
But here's what you have to understand: Everyone knows.
A heartbreak is still a heartbreak. The stages are the same.
Whether your heart is broken because the world is evil or because you may lose a sick loved one or you're dealing with a death or because you lost the only love you want. It is the same at the core.
And people pull through it.

Two years ago I explained it by saying that I felt as though I had lost a lung. You know, you can live with one lung. But it's uncomfortable, not easy. And it takes a while to get used to. It takes a while to figure out how to get enough air, how to live with one lung when you used to have two. How to get enough oxygen to your brain. How to function normally.
I don't feel like that anymore. But I did for a long time. I felt as if I couldn't walk as fast as I was once able. I couldn't dream far enough. I couldn't live deep enough. All I could focus on was breathing with my one lung.
And it was okay.

I don't know who exactly is reading this. I get a weird variety of people on this blog.
But I need you to know, whoever you are, that you are going to be okay.
I need you to know that breathing is hard at first. Living is hard at first. And that's okay. Focus on that, learn how to simply breathe again. And then maybe next, focus on walking faster. And then after you have both of those down, focus on running again.
A heartbreak is a heartbreak.
Don't expect too much of yourself.
Don't expect to understand it.
Just focus on breathing.

11 days post-NaNoWriMo. AKA I can finally write again so here you go.

Hello again!
I took a break from my blog for a while, which isn't nearly as uncommon and as I would like lately.
But this break was big.
Because this break wasn't caused by my being lazy and not wanting to write. This break was caused by me being so busy with writing (and still not wanting to write...) !!!
This break was not really a break at all. It was an abandon everything you know in life and work harder and write more than ever month.
Yes. That's right.
I wrote a book. 
Starting November 1st, midnight, and ending November 28th, around ten ish at night. I wrote a book.
I'm not lying. I wrote 50,000 words in 28 days. Seriously.
Okay, so you probably don't doubt me. All of the "I'm not lying"s and "seriously"s are mostly for me. I still feel quite a bit in awe over the whole thing.
"Did I do that? What? I wrote a book? haha noooo."
But really. It was.... It was a lot of things.
1. It was exhausting.
2. It hurt my social lie more than I would like.
3. It killed my normal sleep pattern.
4. It made me not watch Doctor Who as often.
5. It made me stop reading. Period.
6. It made me cry.
7. It made me think I'm the worst writer in the world.
8. It made me think I'm the best writer in the world.
9. It filled me with some weird evangelical zeal.
10. It made me go insane.
and.... Yeah. That's a pretty good list. Covers just about all of my weird feelings for the month of November.
It had plot wholes bigger than earth itself, characters with zero personality, random deaths simply because I hated everything, and typos as if I were writing as a 6th grader. Actually, that's a really good description. If someone tried to read it now, they would think it was a really bad 6th grader fanfiction of something.
This is actually the first thing I have written for myself, not for school, since then. Which is kinda a long time.
It was the most exhausting, draining thing I've ever done. I still get nervous and my heart speeds up uncomfortably when I think about it.
But at the same time...
I finished.
I really did it.
And that is enough to make me happy.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

—	Ernest Hemingway

this is beautiful.

And although I may be more unsure about everything right now,
I still feel more confident about the way my life is being handled than I have been in a very long time.
And this...
This is beautiful.
(Even if I'm depressed.)

The way things go.

With the way my life has turned, flipped, fell over lately, I have felt like this blog didn't fit me anymore. 
And it doesn't. 
Not really. 
Not the way it used to. 
I debated deleting it. 
I debated starting over from scratch. 
I debated deleting just some posts and leaving important ones. 
I debated starting a new blog and leaving this one to collect dust. 
I even started a new blog (then abandoned that one as well).
Ultimately I just decided to stop posting at all (or as often). 
So for the last few months (actually pretty close to  a year...) I have kept Blogger on my 3rd tab open, always open. And occasionally I'd switch over to it, check my stats, read through a few blogs I follow, then switch back to Facebook, Tumblr, Dr. Who...
Even more rare, I'd open a new post, sit here, type something like "ekjhdfshs" then exit out and pretend it never happened. 
Last night, I blogged and it felt good. 
But it felt weird, because it's like I'm trying to hold on to the way I used to do things but that doesn't fit anymore so what am I even doing, really. 
Ah. My life. 
And so here I am. 
And I have decided that instead of deleting anything, I'm going to put all those posts that would have been deleted in the back of my mind. I'm going to pretend they didn't happen except for on those rare nights that I have to remind myself what I've come form. 
And instead of abandoning this blog completely, I'm going to abandon the way this blog has been set. 
No more "How to" format/title. (Unless it actually fits...)
No more... Well you get the picture. 
Hopefully things will be different now, and I can still blog without forgetting this blog. 

Note to self: This is a good change. This is the way things go. This is the way life goes. 

How to Imagine.

I imagine we stood in line one time. 
We stood in line in the pre mortal world. And we waited. 
Slowly, we made our way up to the front.
Up to where our Father was. 
And we watched him.
We watched him give out words of warning. Last minute hugs. Quick reminders. Expressions of love. 
Slowly, we watched as he told everyone in front of us about who they were. 
You. You're a musician. You will work well with a piano if you put your mind to it.
You. You're a romantic. You will work well as a wife. As a mother. Just keep me at the front of your mind.
You. You're a mechanic. 
You. You're a dental hygienist.
You. You're believer.
You. You're...
And the line moved forward. 
I imagine that as we got closer, we got more nervous. 
What am I going to be? What am I? What do I have the potential for?
We knew we had a purpose. And we knew that it would fit us perfectly. But for the first time ever, we were unsure about what exactly it was. 
It was scary to know that for the first time, we would be without our Father's constant companionship. We would be in a world where we remembered nothing. 
I imagine that as I stepped up to the front of the line, He looked at me and nodded. 
I imagine that he took me in to a hug and told me that I was going to be a writer. That I had many purposes, but next to being a daughter of God, I was a writer.
And I nodded. Remembering the moments I spent in line being fascinated with language, and the way words sounded. The way words sounded while they poured so beautifully out of our Father's mouth. Remembering how much I had wanted to make my words sound like that, too. 
And it made sense.
And I knew that I had one shot in this world to figure that out. 
So I nodded. And He hugged me again. And I promised to come back. And He promised to be waiting. 
I imagine that I stepped through that veil with confidence. 

So what happened next? 

Next... 
I forgot. And I got lost. And everything He said I had the potential to be was lost on me. 
I doubted my divinity. I doubted a plan. I doubted that there was even a Father at all. 

But I made a promise. And there's something sacred about promises. There's something binding about them. Something so binding that it won't ever let me stray too far. 
And I know that I will never be out of reach of my promise. I will never stray so far that my promise will be permanently broken. 
And I will return. 
Because one time, I imagine my Father in Heaven hugged me and told me of my divinity. Whispered words of love. Held me and told me one last time before sending me off in to this world that I am his daughter. 
And I will not let him down. 

How to get your wisdom teeth out (and still love Thursday.)

You know what this week has been? 
It's been terrible. 
It has been a pay $300 for a new tires for a car you don't want anymore type of week. And a get your wisdom teeth ripped out of you type of week. And a just plain crappy week. 
And so here I was, sulking. Thinking about how I feel like death. And I just want more Vicodin. And I'm just so tired. And I started to annoy myself. Like, really bad. 
See, I complain a lot in the first place. More than I should. Oh well. No big deal. But this week it has just been one thing after another and another and I don't even like myself like this. It's miserable and terrible and no good. 
So I sat down and decided I needed to write some things down. 
It has been well over a year since I last wrote a Things I Love Thursday list. And obviously, it is much needed today. 

~I got a new scanner at work. And it works a thousand times faster than my last one. And much more efficiently. Oh I just love it!~
~My mouth is healing (slowly but still.)~
~I ate Taco Bell today. Success!~
~Vicodin. Nuff said.~ 
~Tumblrstake chats about weddings.~
~Darady Bannister's (what's the new last name?) Wedding was yesterday! So so SO proud of her!~
~My very first friend ever, Mattea, is getting married tomorrow! (So many weddings!) 
~My dear friend Heidi got engaged to the love of her life!~
~Watching How I Met Your Mother for the second time through!~
~SO MUCH ICE CREAM.~
~ice packs and ramen noodles.~
~Extra sleep.~
~The Mortal Instrument Series. SO wonderful. Going crazy!~
~Cupcakes and Craigos.~
~Last few weeks of summer. Ah. Almost school time again.~
~Radical Self Love journal is almost completely full. Less than a year!~
~Starting RSLB all over again.~
~Sedation. How I never would have gotten through that procedure without it.~
~Raising Hope at lunch time. Heck yes.~

And um... I think that's good for now. 
So there you have it. 
In the midst a very bad, no good, terrible week... I'm okay. And there are still thing I can love about this crazy life I live.