Hot Pink Fingernails

2017, why have you been so discouraging. This has been a challenging year in so many different ways. And I’ve decided, resolved within myself, not to give up when things get hard. And it’s so unfair because this year has been so hard. Honestly it’s been like I’ve been on the receiving end of an electric shock, and I don’t think God is trying to zap the hope out of me but honestly my brain is so fried and I am emotionally exhausted.

At the beginning of the year I made resolutions, which isn’t something I do. But I made them with the hope of seeing God come through and believing that He is good. And the first month I met someone who blessed me above and beyond and paid for $135.00 worth of bills. I was so blessed and grateful and believed that Jesus was preparing me for a year of a new perspective on the world and my version of hope. I left all the kink stuff, and committed myself to Him.

Since January, I’ve been so misunderstood and accused by people who are christians. I’ve been grieving trauma from last year that I haven’t even had a chance to work through. My grandfather passed and a month and a half after Pierce passed. The people I’ve worked for have hurt me and fallen short on their commitments putting me between a rock and a hard place. I have family stuff that’s awful and not mine to talk about. I have bills that I need to pay and can’t. We are movsing and I am exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping well.

I’m not making a list to say people should feel badly for me. Empathy is helpful, sorrow is not. But y’all, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t exhausted. I thought Dad said this would be a year of breakthrough and vision and hope. And I’m finding that almost 7 months in, it has felt like the exact opposite.

Today I got MORE tough news lol. I was literally laughing at this point- amazed that my life could be going so wrong when all I want to do is follow Jesus. I was driving home, fully aware of the details of a situation before they were brought to me. I was crying, then laughing, laughing, then cussing, then repenting. I didn’t think anything else this year could go less in my favor than it already had.

I finally arrived home, sat on the couch, gritted my teeth through a tough conversation with someone I care about but was also bringing me not super great news. Once off of the phone, I shook my head, cried and then laughed, made my way upstairs, closed my bedroom door, locked it and snuggled in bed as I shared with my friends the news and tried to grit my teeth through their shocked responses. After a few minutes I made my way back downstairs, and grabbed some nail polish and the buffer and cuticle removed. I wanted to paint my nails black, because it’s my favorite color, but there was also hot pink in the box. I stared at the two colors and frowned. And in that moment I felt like I heard the Lord say (though idunno cause it seems like I’ve been off all year) that I shouldn’t wear the black nail polish because I’m not in a hopeless situation. I rolled my eyes and poured as I grabbed the pink and just shook my head.

I have felt like a joke this year. My life is a joke. I didn’t have much dignity and now it’s been wiped out with a flood. I didn’t have much vision for my life but I had was dashed in a few seconds. I didn’t have much hope, but I placed the little I had in Jesus.

so I painted my nails pink. Because today [expletives] Sucked. But at some point this will allllll turn around? Or Jesus isn’t real? Lol not ready to give that one up 🤷🏾‍♀️

Hot Pink Fingernails

December Drive (december, 2016)

A week before Christmas and I find myself snuggled on the couch next to my roomie, stuck in the house due to a snow and ice storm the night before. I haven’t written much this month as I haven’t really known what to say. I feel like I’m in a loop of the unknown and I don’t know where I am going or exactly what I am doing. My constant sickness let up for about a week or two and that was an awesome reprieve, though that very week I managed to fracture my foot and then catch a cold.

December.

December Drive (december, 2016)

Words Unspoken… (Valentines Day 2017)

I haven’t written in a while, mostly because my blogging became journaling and I needed a different outlet to do some deeper though processing. At the beginning of February I began watching Kinsley. Kinsley is an adorable 3 year old girl with sass for days. I’ve got little to no maternal desire to have my own kids, but I do enjoy watching kids. The last month and a half has been a journey of learning who I am, what i believe, and what is and isn’t truth. In the process I’ve felt like my insides are being pulled to the outside and laid upon a table and cleaned. That’s a really gross picture but it’s reality.

While watching Kinsley I’ve learned a lot about myself as well as about my perception of who God is. When Kins gets upset, she throws tantrums. I mean she screams and yells and loses her shit. She doesn’t mean to, but she doesn’t know how to communicate and so she just loses it. In the same way, I stuff all of my emotions to the pits of my heart and deal with them by myself. In the process, I’ve become emotionally immature and unable to think through my own feelings and thoughts without getting caught up in the whirlwind that is my own being. I hate confrontation because I don’t know how to communicate what I am feeling. I don’t know how to tell someone that I am hurting.

When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to argue with mom and dad. We weren’t allowed to talk back or really even talk when we were in trouble. It was now listening time, and you were expected to answer the questions that you were asked. When I was asked these questions I was consumed with anxiety. I immediately retracted and believed that my emotions weren’t important. That the things I was feeling weren’t important. This has easily transferred into my adulthood, because even when i do know what I am feeling I am too scared to say it. I feel as if I say that what I am saying is wrong or could be perceived as not listening, so I tend to cower back and not say what I am thinking which catapults me into self destructive behaviour.

All this to say- even though looking from this side of things it feels scary and gross to learn all of these things about myself, it’s also relieving to know these things about myself. It brings clarity to different aspects of my life, different destructive ways and patterns that I have lived in. I’ve been horrible at communicating to people my feelings and even worse at communicating to God how I feel, or even receiving his heart towards me because I believed that all I would get is a reprimand.

But happy valentines day to me, because today I know that He is listening, and He does care and I and my thoughts are so so so important to Him. And that is one of the best things I could ask for.

Words Unspoken… (Valentines Day 2017)

Last Night (From June 3, 2017)

Last night a good friend died. He was like a little brother to me. He had a way of walking in to the room and lighting it up. He liked to be the center of attention. He was young and craved a love that no one could give him. When i met him he had just moved out of his parents house. He told me that didn’t have a good relationship with his dad, and his sister didn’t invite him to her wedding. I tried to love pierce the best I could, but I’m sure I didn’t know how the way he needed. My heart hurts so much.

Last Night (From June 3, 2017)

Pierce

Tonight was the vigil and in less than 10 hours I’ll be sitting at your funeral.
Pierce, it’s weird being in a room of crying people who miss you.
Everyone leaning into the others embrace as they process that you’re gone.
Everyone talking about you and how well they knew you.

It’s hard to grieve in a room of crying people.
I hold myself together to ensure that they will be ok and that they have a shoulder to lean on.
But Pierce, when I’m at home, the home you visited often, I start to fall apart.
I hear the echo of your laughter dancing down the hall.
I hear your voice when you talked and bragged about all the things you’ve done.
I feel you.

In my anxiety tonight I felt like I couldn’t breathe…
Walking down the line, greeting your family…
Finally reaching your mom and dad at the end. My heart sank.
I couldn’t even look at the casket.
I knew if I looked inside it wouldn’t be you.
It wouldn’t be little Pierce.
And as I walked past not daring to look in, I started to hyperventilate,
I felt like the world was closing in on me.
I couldn’t breathe even a little. I wanted to hide.
I walked outside and hid behind a wall just craving to catch my breath.
My hands were shaking.
And my shoulders and neck get tense every time I start to think about the fact that you’re never coming back.

I don’t want tomorrow to come.
I don’t think I’m ready to accept that you’re gone.
Your body, going into the ground- decomposing…
That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen.
That’s not the way my friends die.

Pierce what are we supposed to do.
Are we, our little family that you left behind, going to be ok.
You wouldn’t believe it but J and J both got in car wrecks on the way to the area for our funeral that is happening because of a car wreck.
I feel sick Pierce. And in a group of people I’ll hold it together.
But the night time is hard and I just find myself once again wishing that you were here.
You were my little brother and you were my friend.
And I just don’t know what to do, knowing I won’t see you till Heaven.

Pierce

My Bouquet

preparing for my brothers wedding this week, my head has been a flurry of pinks and greens and decorations and flowers. yesterday on my drive home, I was talking to Jesus about the things I’ve done and thought these past few months. Things that bring me much shame and that are hard to talk about. I was listening to a worship set when I had a picture of me. I was a little girl wearing a white dress. And I was beautiful.

I was walking around with a bouquet of flowers in my hand and I would stop by a man, offering him my flowers. He eagerly accepted them and then I would move on to the next and the next. The men continued to take my flowers and I continues to offer them. But from person to person my flowers began to die in my hands. It was a bouquet of dead flowers. And with each new person I offered them to, I only became more and more sad, but yet I continued to offer my flowers away. When I was left with only one dead flower I stopped offering them away, because I felt like I had nothing left.

I continued to walk until I encountered God. Not Jesus or Holy Spirit but God. He looked upon me with such love, and pain for my pain. I looked up at Him and wept, almost like in those animated shows, where the eyes are so full of tears they look like large buckets of water. I had buckets and buckets of water falling from my eyes. I shook my head back and forth as tears fell, apologizing, saying I didn’t know, I didn’t realize what I had done until I had nothing left. He took hold of me any my one dead flower scooping me into His embrace, weeping with me. He still wanted my flower, even though it had died. He knew it’s value even in death.

My Bouquet

In The Pain

Searching for Lucy, the kids dog, I stepped out onto the front steps. A sprawling entry way, covered in bricks and mums. The November mist kissed my skin and I looked up at the sky, the grey and black billowing clouds comforting in it’s consistency. I let out a whistle calling Lucy as I looked around me, knowing she hates the rain. The large, empty houses covered with fallen leaves left a peaceful yet dreary lump in my throat. I was overcome with emotion, words left unsaid, bad decisions finally catching up to me. Yet none of those things were the blow that my heart ached for. None of those things answered the pain that I felt.

Lucy ran up to me, but just out of reach. She hated being caught, she liked to be free and move on her own. I sighed, as she looked at me, and I looked back up at the sky. Every memory of the past few months coursing through my mind. Every shameful thought and action shrouded by the rain, hidden in the pouring rain. Looking down at Lucy’s baby blues, I found she was resolved and would only come in from the rain by her own free will.

I turned, and closed the door. And as soon as I turned the lock, Lucy came scratching at the door. Opening the door she came bounding in and I laughed a little at how stubborn she was, and was reminded a little of myself.

In The Pain