Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Am I ready . . . don't know but here I go.

Lots of people say I have a story to write . . . that I can help people. I think that is arrogant personally . . . who am I to help anyone? If God chooses to use me to help someone that is such a blessing, and more then I could ever expect or want . . . but I have felt this pull to tell my story in a real and unfettered way for a long time. The problem is two fold . . . firstly I still feel that the chapter I need to tell first is still finding its way to ending, not yet moving on to the next one. The second is who might get hurt by the honest things I have to say . . . myself not withstanding, if I decide to take this on I have to expose my heart which means exposing others who exist there . . . there will be consequences I am unsure I am really ready to deal with. Those that I am certain that others are not prepared to deal with. How does one do that? How do I find the way to give what God wants me to, to write with no barriers and not ache at the pain I will inevitability cause?

My story starts here tonight . . . self exploration, stepping out in faith, and hopefully achieving the goal I have set . . . which will evolve into something new and different with each new truth.

My story should start with God, the very reason I can breathe, and though I know now it all begins and ends with Him, I think this story will begin with another him. Jason. Because, as far as I can tell, this story is, in large part about relationship, kindred spirits and soulmates.

*Sidebar . . . for me a soulmate may not be forever . . . well scratch that, a soulmate is a person who you blend with so completely, maybe forever or maybe just for a season, but who exist in your soul forever. They make you the person you are . . . and if you are luck enough to meet these people in your life they continue to change your very being.*

Jason. One of the first people I consider to be a soulmate. He was love personified. I know that from the first time he made me laugh I loved him. And yet so much pain is woven into our story. Pain so interwoven into this relationship you cannot separate it. Without it there would be no relationship, no epic love, no soulmate. But I guess that is how these things go . . . they burn so bright and so strong and so fast, like a supernova. But they do burn . . . and it scars. Jason. From the moment I met him, at 15 years old, though I didn't know it then, I would be changed forever. That was one of those moments in life that cause it to turn, that is so fundamentally responsible for how it takes shape, for who you become. Its a game changer. A moment so insignificant really that turns out to be the beginning of this story.

Brokenhearted we took solace in each other.
Strong for each other sadness became a catalyst
for what had already been and what was to come.
Joy from such pain.
Pain from such joy.
Could we have known what we were doing?
In our wildest dreams, before that day did you believe all this would happen?
Love born from death. So haunting.
And yet there is understanding there.
Souls already intertwined, bound by the youngest of love.
It grew from there, it flourished in spite of the odds, and though never gone
it changed as we grew away from our beginning.
Was any of it the right thing?
Such amazing love. How could it have ever been wrong?
Brokenhearted we walked away from each other.
Never truly done, no closure truly found, not for me. Not for you.
I believe I walked away in fear. I believe you walked in anger.
I believe we still walk in these things. Promises made shattered.
What were we thinking? What are we still thinking?
Broken hearts still healing, soulmates still connected.
I feel you.

Listening to: "Blessed Be Your Name
                         by Matt Redman

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart,
O God, you will not despise."
~Psalm 51:17

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Over The Rainbow.

Awake, wide awake at 4am . . . not good for me, I should be asleep . . . this is something I have wanted to correct. . . something to work on once I got home, its not that I am sleeping 18+ hours a day, but my sleep schedule is still all backwards . . . and to top things off, I am not sleeping well when I try to sleep . . . tonight I am listening to music and writing to try and wind down, but so far to no avail. I have decided to post my latest poem here . . . its just words, sort of a conglomeration of what I and a lot of the women that I met in rehab went through, decisions they had to make, to stay or move on . . . to remain in Kansas or to go over the rainbow, to the unknown, which looks pretty, but doesn't always work out that way. 

You know you think that you enter rehab to get clean, not just your body but also your mind . . . but what I have found is that when the fog clears the real stuff becomes visible. You can finally see that big pickup whose ass you've been riding through the fog, not quite rear-ending it, but almost . . . and then BAM! with out warning or even knowing it was there . . . you hit it. The fog clears and its hello Chevy (or whatever kind of Pickup floats your boat!!!). Its pretty scary. All of a sudden you are tossed into your life, only now you have no idea how to deal. I didn't get the insurance and you know that the other guy (family, friends, job or whatever you are dealing with) is just dying to call 5-O to give you a ticket, cause he was pissed when you started tailing him 20 miles ago in the fog. So now that you've run right into him, you can't avoid him, all you can do is apologies to him, pay the fine, pay the damages and try to work things out from there. 

That is how it feels like being on the other side of this rehab thing. Its been 4+ years and I have been riding on the tail and my family's and friend's last nerves for a long time . . . and now the gloves are off, and without the fog of meds I can see, feel, hear everything. Its not great. No one prepared me for all this . . . no one said, Jennifer this next phase of your recovery is called "The Collision." Here is how to handle the actual collision part. Sure I got all kinds of advice on how to cope, pray, take a walk, read, breathe, go to a meeting, call your sponsor, ect . . . but when you are in the middle of a huge collision with someone you love, that's not really possible . . . it takes hours to get to a place, after a big crash and, sometimes, burn, when I can finally do most of those things . . . except pray . . . I can always pray. I know that God is always with me through these things, otherwise a collision could turn into a fatal accident . . . He is my covering and protection.

I guess that is all I have for tonight, I am going to post that poem and close with that. Keep your eyes open, and if you do crash, hang on to God and start saying your sorry . . . not much else you can do in the end.


The door slams, the girl cries
Once again only the thought
Of running consumes her mind.

She's had it with these mind games
If things go on this way she fears
Everything she worked so hard for
Will vanish, just disappear in a
Cloud of indignation and flames.

All the choices she could make
Flicker past her eyes, frame by frame
One scene brightly colored
He tosses a little girl highly
in the air, she laughs.

The next scene almost faded
Virtually void of any color at all
She sits on the beach,
A white flower in her hair

Someone kisses her neck
He rubs lotion on her back
She cannot see the man that's there
The man who put the flower in her hair

So many questions in her mind
To choose the road that's safe
Or the unknown path
And see what she might find.

Safety or Possibility
Wrong or RIght
Passion or Reality
Love or Misery

A life planned just so
or excitement, over the rainbow.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

To Begin With . . .

It's very late and I should be sleeping, but I have this great urge to write and get my thoughts down. So I'll begin with the title, or better yet, I should begin with breaking down what the title means exactly. Erratic is just another way of saying random or sort of all over the place, and that is how my writing is, when I write this way, no plan, no path, no planned story . . . just words, ideas from my mind on the page, musings if you will.

Now, you'll come to see that I am a Christian, and as a Christian I believe that we are all lost, and that we are only saved, only found by finding salvation in Jesus Christ. So that is one way that I am a Woman Lost. However, I am lost right now in a great deal many other ways. I hope by exploring my issues on this blog, I can find my way back to The Lord, myself, and maybe even to the ones who love me. I realize this is a tall order for a simple blog, I truly do . . . but that is where I hope that the readers, if there are any, come in and will help me by leaving comments and suggestions, questions, concerns, ect . . . to help me understand who I am. We are only as strong as we are together, don't you agree? So there are no secrets on here, except the ones I am keeping from myself, otherwise how would I expect you to help me? Only the truth as best as I can give you.

Good Luck and Godspeed,