Stop!

On the way back from my apartment this week, I encountered a stop light.  I sat in my car, watching the car in front of me, and we waited... waited... waited.... waited... still red.  We waited... waited... I thought about honking and asking the person ahead of me to make a right turn just so we could move, even if it was in the wrong direction... but I waited.... waited.... Finally the car ahead of me moved up to just run the stoplight... and as soon as she moved up, past the white line, it turned green.

Right now my life feels like that intersection. It seems like so many parts of my life have a stop sign.  Healthy eating has been stopped by the heat - it's in the 80s in our apartment, with us not cooking. Cooking vegetables is just out of the question right now.  I'm so disappointed about that. We were doing SO. GOOD.  *sigh* 

My school project seems to have a stop sign.  I was so excited about the voter registration drive we were planning, but now it seems like others in the group aren't taking it seriously.  We have 8 days before our first drive, and I can't get the researchers to look up the laws about what we are and are not allowed to do.  I can't get the group members to read the e-mails from the professor with instructions to our group, to answer my texts, or to check the group facebook page. Our professor has been flipping out, thinking we are going to break the county's rules and cause a huge scandal. I finally sent an e-mail to the professor today, asking her what the consequences would be if I withdrew from the group. I poured my heart into this, I networked with the NAACP, I coordinated the group, I sent facebooks and texts... and now it was all for nothing, because of things out of my control.  There comes a time when you see the train heading for a collision, and you just gotta jump off and let it do what it will do.  So much for having the project done before school starts.

Counseling... wow.  Definately a stop sign.  Had a great session the week before last, about avoidance and detachment. Came in this week ready to conquer the world... No.  Epic counseling fail.  We talked about my blog post about silence, but I just couldn't connect to the emotions I felt when I wrote it.  I knew they were there, but it was like I was seperated from them by a river... I could see them but not touch them, you know?  So I couldn't make her understand why this was important to me.  It came out jumbled and detached and rambly.

I'm wondering if not taking the medicine was a mistake. I feel edgy, and critical of others.  I'm noticing I have started avoiding people more, because I am just not sure of my reactions now. In the end, I think I made the right choice.  I put up with wayyyyyyyy to much crap from people when I am medicated, and that's not okay. I need to get therapy for my issues while it's cheap, so that I'll be a better social worker when I graduate.  Yes, I know I could make it without the counseling, and still be awesome at my job... but I want to be MORE awesome.  Taking medication seems to make the therapy less effective, since my emotions are buried under so many layers of medication, self-protection, etc.

I know eventually the light will turn green, I'll be flying down the road of life and forget this stop light ever happened... so maybe I should just take this opportunity to focus on other things, learn, grow, and prepare myself for the green lights ahead.

Yes!

I was reading a wonderful book this week, I Wore the Ocean in the Shape of a Girl, when I came upon an interesting passage. 

The author, Kelle, was offered a job.  She didn't know what she would be doing. She didn't know if she was qualified to do the job.

She said yes. 

I wish I had the book with me (I had to take it back to the library) to read it to you word for word. It is a really amazing book.  Regardless, I was so inspired as I read this.  I am the queen of self-doubt. I do not take a job until I have double or triple-checked that I can do the job.  I probably pass up jobs and opportunities that I would excel at, just because I am afraid to risk failure. 

What would my life be like if I just said "yes"? Where could my journey go if I just stepped out by faith, and worried about the consequences when they came? How much more could I grow? Who could I become? 

What would YOUR life be like if you just said "yes"?

Silence

I remember the days of silence

locked deep inside myself

terrified of rejection

humiliation

betrayal

I donned a mask of strength

and hid all of me behind it

locked it away

I began to become the mask

gradually forgetting who I was

losing myself entirely

until I forgot who I had ever been

an identity crisis

who was I

what was me and what was the mask

I had no answers

how could I be myself

when I no longer knew who I was

slowly I began to reach inside myself

discovering pieces of the person

I had once been

I learned to embrace the pieces I found

putting together the puzzle of my soul

I met the person I had locked inside

gave her permission to emerge

exploring the world around her

this stranger found her voice

first in a quavering whisper

later in a powerful shout!

encouraging, arguing, sharing

she expressed every part of her being 

with the reckless joy of a child

she shared her hopes, her dreams

she spoke anger

she spoke love

she spoke in words

she spoke in poems

she spoke for herself

and for those still without a voice

she spoke from morning until night

and even spoke in her sleep

fearing that if she stopped for even a moment

she would again be locked away

in silence

Jana the Gamer?

To lighten the mood here on my lovely blog, I decided to share a new adventure with you all! I have played video games all of my life, and still play them now.  Our most recent video game obsession haa been World of Warcraft.  Here you get to create a character in a way that more or less fits your personality, take him or her on quests, explore dungeons, learn new skills, etc.  

 This is JanaLee! She is the character that most closely matches my personality.  She is a gnome, which means she's about 3 feet all, she has the adorable pink ponytails I love and those big gorgeous eyes (which I do not have, but I have a cute wittle nose, so I think it's all equal.) and right now she is sporting a Muslim-esque niqab as part of her gear.  Oh, and did I mention she giggles?  Yes, she has the world's cutest giggle.  Often when I play her, I am completely overwhelmed by her cuteness!  She can jump up and down... her little ponytails jiggling as she jumps... omw. You just can't imagine the cuteness.

Another fun aspect of gaming is the group dynamic. Here is a group of us, rejoicing after a successful battle!  Sapphirerose is the leader of my guild (a group of people who chat together and help each other out), and had come to help Rogueself (aka my husband James), me, and some random strangers battle a mighty foe.  When we got done? DANCE PARTY!!!!! LOL

~*~*~*~*~

Now James and I are starting a new adventure... gaming off the computer.  We started a few weeks ago by joining a Dungeons and Dragons game with his family.  It was fun, but not at all what I expected. Now a group from our school has started doing new game called Geist, and in a moment of insanity, I decided to join the fun. 

It took me 2 and a half hours to make a character. TWO AND A HALF. Dang. This better be a great freakin game, that's all I've got to say.

The basic premise of the game is easy.  Each character died, and was not able to leave the earth because of something.  Each character has a geist, kind of like a mentor, who was attracted to the chacter because of some kind of similarity.  The fun part for me, in all games of this nature, is making the character... giving her a story, a personality... a soul, more or less. The character I am finishing for our game tonight will look very much like the picture of Janaria Lynn, pictured below.  Her story:

Janira rushed down the darkened streets, willing her body to run faster. What if she was too late?  She pushed the thought out of her mind. The men had just bought the little girl, and would need time to properly "enjoy" her.  She willed herself to run faster, the small blue house only 2 blocks away. 

Reaching her goal, she heard the sound of men laughing. She heard the lust in their voices, the excitement as they decided who would get her first.  Silently, Janira crept around the other rooms of the house. She looked in the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl.  Finally, she found what she was looking for.  She pushed open the window, praying it would not creek and reveal her actions.  Carefully she climbed through the window, her eyes glued to the small girl bound and gagged in the corner. The girls were wide with terror as Janira crept closer, finally holding the little girl in her arms.  Turning toward the window to make their escape, Janira heard the door open.  Shocked curses followed her as she tried to run back to the window.  Hands reached out, grabbing her, while another man ripped the girl out of her arms.  Escaping the hands holding on to her, Janira desperately lunged toward the girl! A flash of a pistol, her body an explosion of pain, and Janira faded from this world.

From miles away, Silas felt her desperation as he clutched the necklace and remembered...

Silent around him, the night seemed dark in spite of the full moon. He hurried along the side of the road, watching for headlights and praying with all his heart.  His goal was the run-down shack just a small ways down the road. When he had come home earlier and found his wife gone, he had feared the worst.  The idea of asking the police for help had been a horrible joke, since some of the officers were probably responsible for her disappearance. He had heard though that the Klan did their horrific deeds in the woods around Tommy Duncan's place, and decided to make his way there when night fell.  If he was lucky, maybe he could find his Rose before it was too late.

Branches clawing at his face, he turned into the woods, listening and watching for any signs of life.  He circled the house, looking for a path where they had taken her, when he saw something shining in the moonlight. He reached for it, terror in his heart.  Years earlier he had seen his wife longing for that necklace in a store window, and determined to make it hers. He worked all day at the mill, and odd jobs in the evenings and weekends, scraping and saving every penny.  Finally he bought that necklace, and determined to make his Rose the happiest woman on earth, he asked her that night to be his wife.

Silas knew his wife must be deeper in the woods in this direction.  He hurried, as quietly as he could, in the direction they must have taken her.  In the far distance, he could now see a cross, brightly burning in the dark woods. His heart hammered in his chest, afraid of what he would find.  If he could just get to her, maybe he could distract the men for long enough for her to escape! He hurried toward the group of men near the cross.

Close enough to see the men clearly now, he watched them torment his wife.  They said something, laughed. He could see the tears running down her cheeks as he looked for a way to get to his wife.  As he crept closer to the group, a man reached out, ripping his wife's dress off of her shoulders. Silas forgot everything else, and desperately ran toward his wife.  The last thing he felt was his ankle tearing as he fell over the root, the explosion of pain in his head as it hit the rock, and the metal in his fingers as he clutched the necklace.



   

RAID!!!!!

The anonymity of my blog has been breached! A raid is impending! RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My dad's favorite Atari game, and thus mine, was called River Raid. We would play that for hours, and I can still remember how proud my dad was when I, a 5 year old girl, beat my 4 cousins, all males over the age of at least 12.

Now my life feels like that piece of land... a plane soaring overhed, guns loaded, and a feeling of total vulnerability.

Today during my first counseling appointment in more than 6 months, I talked to my counselor about my blog.  I mentioned that I had blogged about the dream I had about my dad.  She asked me to find some things to share from the blog. I should probably just give her the address, but that's too open, to wierd.  She mentioned that I am uncomfortable sharing...

Me? Uncomfortable sharing????? No. Girl, I can tell an entire room of people that I need to pee! How can she say I'm uncomfortable sharing?!

But thinking about that, I realized that I AM uncomfortable about sharing anything that matters.  I can touch on something painful in therapy, but then I flit off into something safe. Drama with the neighbors, with the classmates... something safe, something that doesn't show too much about me, something that doesn't hurt too much. 

I feel a shift in my life, a way for me to open myself and let the broken places be seen, and later be healed.  I am so tightly wound around these subjects, I don't even allow God into them. I don't allow the husband there either. They are dark, scary places that I don't let anyone touch, EVER. The minute I feel something in these areas, I bury it so deep it can't emerge again.  Even if I blog about it, it is only a temporary openness... and then my feelings are buried again. 

To heal past the point I've reached, I have to face the things I locked away.  I have to face the monster I see myself as, the scared little girl I once was, and everything else locked away in the deep dark corners of my soul.

I really hope the result is worth all this drama!

Father's Day

Today is Father's Day. I've spent my entire day trying to avoid the subject... but grieving inside, for reasons I can't put into words yet.

I'm still reeling from the dream I had earlier in the week, about my dad.  I've had no other dreams since then, but that one is still dancing at the edge of my conscousness. Darting close enough to sting me now and then, and then flitting out of reach before I can identify why I'm hurting.  I just know that I AM hurting.

I am torn today over the silliest of things: Should I honor my dad on Facebook?  It seems wrong not to honor him... I grew from the intensity of him.  Through the love, the anger, the self-loathing, the laughter... I lived. These were the bed in which I was born, the soil in which I grew.  They impacted me in ways I am still discovering. 

He taught me to give
A broken life
Sharing the pieces he had left
To watch others smile

He taught me to hide
A broken spirit
Transforming as a chameleon
Disguising the unique attributes
the vulnerabilities
That defined him

He taught me to abuse
A broken heart
SCREAMING, begging for help
Clutching power as if it was a lifeline
Hurting others, breaking them
So they couldn't hurt me

He made me the person that I am, and through the good and through the bad, the handprints of my father are imprinted on every part of who I am. 

I see his fingerprints when I work in the garden... when I take joy in watching the new life peek through the ground, nurturing it, rejoicing with each inch it grows.
And I see his fingerprints when the pregnancy test is negative, and along with the sadness and exhaustion that every infertile woman feels, I feel a sigh of relief.  As a child, I learned from my father's example.  I watched abuse, and I became an abuser. I know what it is to be small and terrified, and I know what it is to be big, and to make others terrified. I know what it is to feel words break your spirit, and I know what it is to feel words leaving my mouth, breaking the spirit of another... to feel the guilt intertwine with the safety that comes from power.  I know that inside me rests the capacity to abuse, to hurt, to destroy another person so deeply that there is nothing left of them.

With each passing month, I am heartbroken and I am relieved.  I grieve over the emptiness of my arms, but relax knowing I am safe from hurting something so tiny and vulnerable.

I wonder if I will ever trust myself to control the part of him living inside me.

Living Nightmare

Exhausted, I laid down to sleep
I was transported into another world
One long forgotten

I was a child again
Smal, vulnerable
Terrified

I searched and searched for my mom
Terrified of what I would find
My father said only
That she was in a restaurant
He wouldn't tell me where, or why

I was trapped in a van with him
Powerless
Terrified
Trying to stand up for my mom
But afraid of the consequences
Trying to tell someone, anyone
who would listen and help

I woke up from this nightmare, completely shaken. This was one of the first times since I married my husband that I had to wake him up from a nightmare... and the first time I had to just have him hold me as I cried.  The scene wasn't real... I never wondered if my dad HAD killed my mom.

As an adult, I had pushed the experiences with my dad into the background of my mind... forgetting the terror, the powerlessness I felt knowing I lived with a man who had the potential to kill.   Waking up from that, I feel so shaken.  I have sat and cried... how could I forget the little girl I once was, and the things she had survived to get here?

The feelings from the nightmare were like a tidal wave that I was completely unprepared for.  A tsunami in the middle of a beautiful sunny day at the beach.

How much of the life I have made is just running from the pain of the past, pretending it isn't there?  What else have I forgotten?

Changing the World

I'm currently (finally) a senior in the social work department.  After 3 years of learning about things I really could care less about, this year my study word will change. For the first time, I am expected to actually change my world!

Two big assignments this semester will challenge us.  For the first assignment, each student has to do an individual research study.  We have to do the research, compile the data, write out a formal research report, and present our findings to the public.  I am thinking of either studying family reunification (helping families to change so that they can regain and keep their children successfully.) or the connection between domestic violence and child abuse.

The second one is what I'm really excited about though.  We have to do a big project to somehow impact our community... and my group is doing voter registration drives.  Now, how does this change the world?  Well, our group is specifically targeting people who are either poor, from a minority group, or both.  These are the people in our society who are both least likely to vote, and least likely to be deemed important by politicians.  Because these groups don't vote, politicians have no reason to care about what these people want.  As people begin to vote more, politicians will have to pay more attention to them... and that could possibly change the world, one vote at a time :)

Back to Blogging

So my lovely friend Alison told me this week that she missed my blog... and combined with some other things that happened, I realized that I really miss blogging.  So, let me tell you what's been happening around here. Or rather, let me show you... (Yep, irony.  The blind friend asks me to blog, and I do a pic blog LOL)

I have been trying to cook whole grains!


 

 This lovely pic of a oatmeal-ish substance is what happened when I cooked quinoa. Does anyone know if it is SUPPOSED to be squishy like this? Or did I cook it wrong?

And here we have a picture of the whole meal! Lettuce from my neighbor's garden, which I cut up and made into a salad. Chicken which I made using a dry rub of cajun seasoning, soul seasoning, garlic, and umm... I forget what else. Quinoa, which I cooked in chicken broth... and all served on my fine china, aka paper plates!

I have been taking summer classes!  My inner child celebrated her learning from my Mythology class by drawing the picture below.

This is an example of one of the Furies. The Furies were fierce little creatures, used to punish evildoers. For this, I drew a pitchfork, which looks like a trident but isn't.  They had snakes in their hair, which I drew including creepy little eyes and a tongue sticking out of one, for no apparent reason. They have red tears running down their faces, because they cry blood, again for no reason that I have learned. The pinkish dress and blue sash are my own creation, so they have no symbolism.

I celebrated the birthdays of my neice and nephew!

My husband decided to take a picture of my nephew as he laid on the floor.. I have no idea why. The Boy (I decided to give him a catchy name for my blog) had his head shaved by daddy this summer, which actually looks cute on him now that I'm used to it.  He just turned 2!

The Poopers also got to participate in the birthday fun, because we were all broke when her birthday came in the winter.  She's 3 and a half now!!! 

I have been crocheting.

But I currently have no pics of that. I have been making fun baby mitts to keep babies from scratching their little faces, in cool designs... but I am not posting pics or descriptions until I have them done and for sale.  Right now I have 6 pairs done (not including the 7 or so pairs I gave to a friend), and 12 pairs needing embellishment.

I have been cleaning.

But everything is messy agian.  How does this happen? LOL

I have been gardening.

I bought a plot in our apartment's garden, and I have already planted cilantro, parsley, basil, chives, green beans, onions, 2 kinds of peppers, and rosemary.  I'm excited! Tomorrow I will plant more cilantro, swiss chard, serano peppers, squash, brussel sprouts, and delphiniums - my favorite flowers!