Everything Is Hard Sometimes

So, I got engaged 2 months ago. And everything has been a whirlwind. Because I’m getting married in February, and that’s 3 months away and I don’t know what I need help with but I feel like everyone has an opinion. But it’s our wedding. It’s my and Bobby’s wedding. So the only opinion that should matter is our own.

We were only supposed to be here 3 months. But we’ve been here 6. So we’re trying to move. And moving is hard. Finding new jobs is hard. Finding a place to live is hard. And I’m so afraid we can’t do it. I’m so afraid that moving home and all the things since have been a terrible mistake. Even though I love my job. Even though I make enough. There’s never been anything for me here. And there’s definitely nothing here for Bobby. He’s why we’re leaving. Because he gave up everything to move across the country with me. But things have only gone wrong. If I could turn back time, I probably would have done things differently.

I’m depressed and everything feels hard. I’ve been off my meds since the summer, because I couldn’t get health insurance. And apparently my home church has changed so much that I’m not allowed to be depressed here. Because depression obviously means that the love of my life isn’t really the love of my life. Even though he is. And he was there for me when no one else was. What a great way to make me not feel at home in my home.

But mostly, I just miss my mom. I hate planning a wedding without her. I hate that she won’t be there when I marry my best friend. I hate that she’s never met him. And I hate that I can’t even talk about it.

Out of the Present

I find myself often dreaming about the future.  Keeping it in the front of my mind.  Daydreaming; focusing all my attention.  Because the present isn’t something that I like to live in.  

I find myself often remembering the past.  I tell stories about the good times, how good it used to be.  Because it used to be so damn good.  And I took it so for granted.  

My heart carries all of the bad times.  My heart carries all of the hard times.  My heart dwells in its own pain, even when I try not to.  

Anymore

I’m not creative anymore.
I’m not really anything anymore.
And my whole life used to be creative.  Everything I stood for was so that I could put more words down and life more people up with them.  But was I ever really that uplifting?
I feel like I don’t know how to make good decisions anymore.  I feel lost.  I feel terrified.  I just want to give up and start again, but life doesn’t work that way.  I feel stuck, but I have to get unstuck, or else I won’t survive.
And I’m not sure what else I can do.

I miss home.  I miss the west.  I want to be anywhere but here.  Because there’s a little bit of grace in starting fresh.  And all I want right now is to start fresh.

My heart has been aching for so long now.  Every step I make to lessen the pain only makes it worse.  Why can’t things go back to the way they used to be?  Why can’t I just go home?  All I want is to go home.  I want to be able to tell my mom how frustrated I am with Alabama and the lack of opportunities and community here.  I want to go home and have my dad make me dinner and help me figure out how to fix all of this.  Because for most of my life I had that ability.  And I didn’t realize how lucky I was.  I didn’t realize how much I took it for granted because I was so depressed and stuck in my own head.  But now I’m depressed and I have nowhere to go.  And I can’t go home anymore.

Common Sense

My mother always said that common sense didn’t exist, because it’s not common.  Everyone grows up differently and develops their logic based on the kind of mental training they have the opportunity to learn through.  So I’m getting kind of tired of people being berated for not using their common sense.

I watched a supervisor berate a subordinate for not using common sense when it was really busy because he didn’t see a label, so he asked a question.  Studies show that logic capabilities are not as strong when a person is under stress.  I work in a high stress environment, especially around this time of year, and I don’t see how anyone can survive if they’re not allowed to ask questions, even if the answer is right in front of them.  What happened to patience?  What happened to kindness?  What happened to caring?
So, as a supervisor, I tried to speak up.  I tried to say something, but apparently defending other employees means that I’m undermining the authority of another supervisor.

I looked up the standards of business for my place of work.  The first thing that is covered is “the way we treat one another.”  And I wish I had read this sooner.  I wish I had refreshed my memory.  Because page one literally says that we have the right to work somewhere free of bullying and harassment.  Does anyone know how many employees have come to me feeling that they have been bullied or harassed?  Far too many.  And I felt that I couldn’t do anything, because my manager won’t do anything about hearsay.  The most important person’s word will always be the strongest, and that will never be me.

I quit my job.  I start my new one soon.  More pay and less responsibility, and hopefully I’ll be out of a depressing and painful environment.  But will it be enough?  I keep wondering if I should do something.  I know that I should do something.  I know what to do.  But I’m scared.  We’re all scared.  That’s why none of us have done it yet.

I have two weeks left.  Two weeks of feeling caught in the middle.  Two weeks of feeling like a pariah.  Two weeks left of trying.  So should I try?  Or will I be shut down?  I guess it’s time to find out.

Complacency

I feel bored and overwhelmed at the same time.  I forget sometimes that I moved across the country and established a life here all on my own.  I think I forget this because I’m not satisfied and I miss home.

I had a dream the other night that I was trying to get my old job back in Mammoth.  I dreamed that I moved Bobby out there and we were trying to figure out a way to afford a big enough place for his studio.  But that was just a dream.  I have no plans to move back to Mammoth, and in all reality, I would probably feel almost as complacent there.  The only difference is that I would have a community that I some how took for granted when I lived there.

I’m looking for a new job.  Most people know this, but I guess it’s time to make it public.  I’ve been depressed where I’m at for some time now and I haven’t found a satisfactory way to make myself happier there.  I haven’t gotten any bites anywhere else yet though.  I feel so confused as to where my path is right now, but if I look back to my past, things have always worked out the way their supposed to.  So I have to believe that things will work out again.

I’m trying to get myself used to school again.  It’s hard and not hard at the same time.  I just haven’t retrained myself to set aside time in the right way.  I feel like I used to have far more time on my hands.  Where do all the hours go?
And I have to do this group project with no information, so that’s not stressing me out at all.

I decided to go back to therapy.  I’ve had exactly one session.  But how can I be a licensed therapist if I can’t even take care of myself?

I’m doing my best.  And my best probably looks pretty good to a lot of people.  But it feels like it’s not enough a lot of the time.  But I guess that’s what depression is.

Hello my old friend.

Names, Dates, Mates, and Babies

I used to go to a prophetic church and participate in prophetic ministry.  I honestly miss being surrounded by a prophetic community.  But prophecy can hurt people way more than it can help people, especially if you’re giving an unwarranted word to someone you don’t know, who doesn’t want it, and you’re wrong.

I had a friend visiting this last weekend and she really wanted to go to a church so we decided to visit one I haven’t been to before, since I don’t have a church here.  This experience made me want to find a church even less than I did before.
My friend wanted to talk to a man who had shared a dream when service was over, so we waited.  After she spoke to him, he decided that he needed to give me a word, and without asking started hugging me and praying for him.  I was uncomfortable the entire time.  And he thought it was appropriate to tell me that I’m going to find a great husband soon.  I wish I had said something, but I didn’t, and I am literally so mad.  Because I have already found my partner.  I have already found the person that I want to love for the rest of my life.

One thing that they taught us when I was doing the supernatural school of ministry and learning prophetic ministry is to not give names, dates, mates, or babies.  Especially if you have no rapport yet.  There are people that I would trust to give me these kinds of word.  But not a stranger.  Not a man that made me so uncomfortable that I just shut down.

It’s prophecy 101.  Learn it.

7 Years

I was just reminded that I have had this blog for seven years.   Seven years of rants.  Seven years of poetry.  Seven years of channeling my depression online.  And I used to be good at it.  I remember when I was in college, sometimes I would get so creative I would post twice a week.  There were times when I’d try not to post every day.  Now I can barely post once a month.

And I’ve been thinking.  On and off for a while, I’ve been thinking.  What if I just closed it down?  Is seven years long enough?  For a long time this blog was my identity.  I put my heart and soul into.  Which is why my lack of creativity depresses me so much, I think.  But maybe it’s time to rip the bandaid off?  Is anyone even paying attention anymore?  Because I for sure have nothing to say anymore.

Last April I moved into a townhouse.  I thought moving here might give me the creative head space I need, but instead I feel like I might have even less creative space.  I’ve forgotten how to act on my ideas, because I still have those.  I have hundreds of photos on a memory card in a camera that I bought because I thought I was going to get back into photography.  Instead, they sit there unedited, when I used to love editing and sharing photos.

I spend a lot of time wondering who I even am anymore.  I start school next month, and I’m excited for it, but what happened to being a writer?  What happened to being a poet?  What happened to having big dreams?  Did I get lost somewhere along the way?  I want to try.  So badly, I want to try.  But giving it all up seems to much easier.

My decisions are pending.  But this could be coming close to a goodbye.