“Go Home.”

A most happy new week to all of you! I hope everyone had a great weekend. If you caught one of my last posts, you may recall that I recently went on vacation. I had promised to share some insight that I gained during that time, so here we are.

I suppose the most important thing to know about my getaway is that it was an unexpected answer to a sorrowful, but heartfelt prayer. 

As I’ve previously touched upon, the latter half of this summer has been a considerable challenge. From trying to plan and launch new business ventures to pursuing a healthier, sustainable lifestyle, Summer 18 has been a physical, emotional, and mental workout beyond anything I’ve experienced before. 

Though my path hasn’t been neatly paved and the night has lasted far too long for my liking, I have faced so many fears and jumped over so many mental hurdles this year. It’s been scary, thrilling, inspiring, motivating and gut wrenching all at the same time. Some things haven’t worked as well as I had hoped, while other things haven’t worked at all. These particular moments have sent me to bed crying more than once, forcing me to ask myself, “You’re performing for an empty stadium. None of this is working. Why are you still trying?”

I continue to try because I have to. If I give up, there is nothing else left for me. I know that. Falling flat on my face is preferable to the nothingness that lies just beyond the inability to keep going. The possibility of finally succeeding at something—no matter how slight—keeps me on my feet. If that’s all I’ve got to show for myself by the end of this, then it’s alright by me. At least I kept going.

Rewinding back to the end of June/early July, I was utterly exhausted. Before this point, everything was going swimmingly. Full of energy and ready to conquer the world, I was blowing through my to-do lists like it was nothing. The newness of everything was invigorating, and I genuinely reveled in the challenges I was facing.

Then I crashed. I don’t know what happened. It was as though someone had suddenly pumped the breaks, sending me right through the windshield of my own life. 

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frigid untrustworthy thoughts.

How you gonna inhale when it feels like you are choking?

How you gonna pray when your heart breaks just from hoping?

How you gonna smile when you’re this full of noxious doubt?

How you gonna close your eyes and bleed the heartache out?

 

How you gonna tell yourself you’re better all alone?

How you gonna cope when no one ever rings your phone?

How you gonna find the light when voids are all you see?

How you gonna give up on the woman you could be?

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Best Kept Secret

Things are splendid. Things are grand! It often feels as though the whole wide world is in my hand. I’m so grateful. My future’s bright. Every cheerful, smiling face I see just sparkles with delight.

It always comes and goes like this til something finally goes amiss. And then a trickle of despair creeps in, gets tangled in my hair. No matter how good things get, I’m always smothered by regret. Before you know it, I’m the saddest girl alive. 

Never let them know it.

I just wish that I knew why.

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Cold, Cold Porcelain

It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.

In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.

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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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Only Chicken Scratch: A Disclaimer

When I was a small child growing up in Southern California I would ride in the backseat of my parents’ car.

Quite often we’d drive the 50-60 miles through the valley to visit my grandparents in the LA suburbs. All along the way I’d press my bored little nose up against my window with “Are we there yet?” on my mind, but pure vapor on my lips.

On and on we’d drive, whizzing past buildings, signs, cars and towns. It was all so dull to me then. I mean, if you’ve seen one scraggly palm tree, you’ve seen a dozen. Though I loved visiting my grandparents, I greatly disliked having to seemingly trek halfway across the galaxy to reach them. If it weren’t for the graffiti scribbled across the trains, I don’t know what I would have done.

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This Could Be You

As the morning sun would stretch and rise from its resting place just beyond the horizon, she would open her eyes and say to herself, “S—t. I’m still here.” And like clockwork, her tortured mind would take up its usual post. The damning inner dialogue swirled round and round, raging like a tropical storm. It was like this all day. It was like this everyday.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired. Why didn’t I just die in my sleep without any fuss? Now I have to find a way to get through yet another day. Another day of constant pain. Another day of crippling loneliness. I could probably cope with it all if I could just take a break—I only need a break. But there’s never a break, is there? Not for me. Not for messed up people like me. 

I want out.

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Deeply-Rooted: Battling Bitterness & Pain After Trauma

Life can be such a dizzying enigma.

At the best of times, it can bestow us with beauty and jubilance of poetic proportions. Yet at the worst of times, life’s circumstances can administer lashes so severe that we’re left limping for years. When I was a child, I never could get a firm grasp on the concept of life’s fickle ways. From time to time I would hear people retort, “Life’s not fair”, but it wouldn’t be until much later that I would learn just how true that adage was.

Thinking back to early youth, I now realize just how fortunate I was. With the exception of a few minor hiccups and one major death, I enjoyed a fairly charmed childhood. No major illnesses, no serious injuries, no instances of bullying and no family turmoil. In comparison to many of my schoolmates, I was very lucky. My parents did a terrific job ensuring that I grew up in as peaceful an environment as possible, but perhaps that is just the trouble. Perhaps I was too sheltered, too ignorant of the possibilities that would await me later in life.

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Before The Fall

I knew this day would come, and though I’ve tried to mentally and emotionally brace myself, anxiety has overtaken me. Today’s post may be the hardest one I will ever share. There is so much that I want to say about what you will soon read, but…I’m not entirely sure that I’m up for it right now. I intend to post further commentary in the days to come, but for tonight, I will let my former words speak for themselves.

As far as Adam is concerned, he genuinely lived up to his namesake by being the first man to accomplish so many monumental things in my life. For instance, he was the first man I ever truly loved. That alone speaks volumes, but I also believe that he was the first man to genuinely love me back. As beautiful and precious a gift that was, it only makes perfect sense that we couldn’t have lasted long.

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I Only Ever Dream Of London

I’ve had a lot of dreams and hopes in this life.

Some came true. Some didn’t.

Of what remains, I’ve mostly given up on ever attaining them. I say this not because I am a defeatist or “negative Nellie” (or negative Nell, in my case), but because I am too tired.

I feel as though I say this a lot these days—this, “I’m tired.” Of course, I never say it aloud because it isn’t something anyone would properly understand. I mean, if someone was ever around to hear me.

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