It’s been well over 70 days since I’ve written. I know this because I’ve been counting the days…one day at a time. I’ve wanted…no, I’ve needed to write but my fingers have just been paralyzed. I guess things really got hard back on October 21st. I tried to write about that day but to date, what I did write is unfinished and is just looming in my drafts folder.
I have loved writing on this darn blog. I have come to believe that no one truly cares about anyone nowadays, but somehow you all….strangers to my world…have managed to make me feel so significant, so valued, and so loved. I will never be able to thank you enough for that.
I don’t even know what to say…and I don’t even know if anything that I say really matters. But I hope that somehow I can touch your heart and let you know that you are loved… I love you. Even though most of us have never met, we are all brothers in sisters in the Body of Christ… We are family and we will someday get to spend eternity together. So you matter to me… You matter so much.
I am NOT looking for pity or attention and I want you to know that I am NOT a victim. I just want to put that disclaimer out there before I write anymore. However, I want you to know that, for me, the sky IS falling. My life has been a house of cards and somehow I have always managed to hold everything together and give the illusion that I was happy and complete. I wore that mask so well for so long. The house of cards is falling down. I’m afraid I’ve run out of tricks. My charade is up and at this point, it seems everyone knows that I am a joke.
I was a Psychology major and I minored in Counseling. I know the DSM-IV-TR quite well. I was on a research team with graduate students and have devoted my life, and my studies to studying human behavior, especially since my Mother’s suicide. In my studies I gravitated more toward abnormal psychology, and have always had a deep interest and passion for the ugly part of psyc….the pathology, I guess you could say. Also, I’ve spent years studying the human brain and have become very knowledgeable in the neuro-psyc part of things… I wholeheartedly believe that the human brain is the last, great, uncharted frontier in the realm of Science. There is SO much that we don’t yet know… And I pray that Science will progress in a direction that takes a more physical approach to human behavior and issues of mental health.
I have pondered the Nature vs. Nurture debate deeply. I have researched it well… and have personally arrived at the conclusion that it’s both. However, I would tend to say that the “nurture” part of things has the greatest impact. In essence, I subscribe quite a bit to John Locke’s theory of Tabula Rasa, which as you probably know means that we are born a blank slate. I know that this isn’t entirely true, but I think it’s mostly true.
I think babies are the closest thing to Heaven… Really, I think this about ALL children in general. There is nothing more pure and precious than a child. Nothing. And I know that Jesus Himself feels the exact same way.
I can‘t make sense of the world we’re living in these days. What happened at Sandy Hook Elementary has greatly affected me. But the reality is that children are abused in a myriad of fashions all over the globe… constantly. What’s more, most of the time they are abused, neglected, and/or abandoned by the people who were supposed to love them the most… and to protect them with every fiber of their being.
The world is a nasty, depraved place and honestly, I don‘t know why we continue to have children knowing full well that we are living in End Times. I compare my generation to my kid’s…and to my Mother’s…and for GOD sakes, my precious Grandparent’s. It unraveling and changing so fast that I can hardly process it. Our country, which WAS founded on GOD has, I’m afraid, become an abomination to Him as I KNOW it has become an abomination to the rest of the world. I fear that God’s blessing is vanishing from our land… He flooded the world once and I have to wonder, “Was it even half as depraved now as it was then?” I ponder Bible stories that my grandmother used to tell me about Sodom and Gomorrah… but see, I know NOW that those weren’t just “stories“. Do we as a nation think that we are invincible from God Himself? Jonah tried to outrun God and he wound up in the belly of a whale. How much longer is God going to tolerate the depravity of our culture? I just really wonder.
I am not well right now. I fear that I may be losing my mind somehow. I am absolutely terrified beyond words, but I am finding that I have not been able to escape this perpetual downward spiral that I am wildly riding. My depression is beyond anything I could explain…and probably beyond anything anyone would be able to understand. I feel powerless and I feel utterly paralyzed. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but for me, hope is just not on the horizon. I’m trying to fight but I’m very weak and I’m very tired. My whole life has been a fight. I will be 40 in January and NEVER in my wildest dreams could I have EVER imagine that I would be here. I’m embarrassed, I’m morbidly humiliated, and shame and guilt are just killing me.
I have somehow managed to isolate myself from the world and the outcome has not been good. The ONLY hope that I have is in Jesus, but for the LIFE of me I cannot feel Him right now. I am reduced to an absolute shell of the vibrant, charismatic woman I once was… I don’t have much left. So with every ounce of my soul I humbly beg that you pray for me and my boys. Please intercede in my weakness. Please beg God to help me survive and see my way out of all this. I want you to know that I love my children more than anything on this Earth. They are the reason I draw breath… They are my whole entire world and I am so afraid that I am somehow failing them. GOD HELP ME!
I have honestly never felt this way in my entire life and again, I’m just overtaken with complete terror. There is a neuro doc whose primary practice is in San Francisco. His name is Dr. Daniel Amen. I have followed his work for years and know some incredibly reputable people who deeply believe in his work. His clinic does brain scans that give CONCRETE answers to what is going on with a patient’s mental health. That‘s what I want…of course I could never afford it. But still, I want CONCRETE answers. Something is totally NOT right with my freaking brain. I adore my counselor and my doctors too but diagnosing neurological problems are really just a hit or miss….or a trial and error kind of thing. I’m SICK of that.
What happened to my mother HAUNTS me each and every day. Her depression was real, but no one, INCLUDING AND ESPECIALLY ME ever took her seriously until she was dead. She lay in her bed for THREE whole days before anyone even found her. I will NEVER forget what she looked like. She has the SADDEST look on her face. My mother was an incredible, beautiful woman but something happened and when she began to deteriorate it seemed, to me, to happened really fast. I take this shit seriously and I wish to GOD that the rest of society would too!! This isn’t something we can just sweep under the damn rug people. Look, the Sandy Hook incident would more than likely have never happened if someone would have reached out to that young man and taken his issues seriously.
I thank you for giving me a venue to express my heart… And I thank you in advance for your prayers. Jesus is not just MY only answer… He is YOUR only answer as well. Keep your eyes FIXED on Him. Recognize that He does NOT make rules so that He can be a buzz-kill or because He is just very bossy. God gives us rules to protect us from our stupid selves!!! When we disobey Him and veer out in our own direction we are blindly veering out from underneath His Almighty protection. We just cannot afford to do that anymore, can we?
All my love,
Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.
Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish.
How long, Lord, how long?
Turn, Lord, and deliver me;
save me because of your unfailing love.
Among the dead no one proclaims your name.
Who praises you from the grave?
I am worn out from my groaning.
All night long I flood my bed with weeping
and drench my couch with tears.
My eyes grow weak with sorrow;
they fail because of all my foes.
Away from me, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
All my enemies will be overwhelmed with shame and anguish;
they will turn back and suddenly be put to shame.
The Light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. -John 1:5
It’s been almost one month since I’ve written. I’ve wanted so much to write each and every single day, but certain life circumstances have left me just plain depleted and wholly exhausted. I suppose my pervasive depression was the driving force that has kept me wrapped tightly in my favorite blanket…in bed. You see, that’s that majority of what I’ve been doing since I last wrote–sleeping or working. When I’m not working I’m sleeping and when I’m not sleeping I’m working. That’s the long and short of it, friends. I have become a hermit lately with no social life or fellowship to speak of. As a matter of fact, my hygiene has even suffered a bit!
You see, a few months ago before my gross reduction in income, I used AG, Biolage, Purology, and Philosophy products to care for my hair and body. In the realm of make-up I prefer Mac, Two-Faced, Smashbox, and Urban Decay, just to name a few. Men, this may mean nothing to you, but ladies, you know exactly what I’m talking about! More than any of my physical traits I love my hair and for years upon years have only allowed the best products to come near it. I mean, I was using a $55 bottle of conditioner and a $30 glaze to keep my hair from being frizzy, while giving it just the perfect amount of volume and texture to put me in a close 2nd in a “best hair” contest with Jennifer Aniston herself!
My $20 sugar and hemp-infused body scrub and $20 shower gel left my artificially tanned skin as smooth as a baby’s backside and smelling of an organic rhapsody of lavender with subtle hints of warm, toasted vanilla. After my rejuvenating power showers, I used to like to smooth on some of my deliciously decadent Philosophy body cream ($28) before hitting my pillow which I even misted with a light Bath and Body Work’s fragrance. Now, I buy Pantene products from the Dollar General, and adorn my skin in Wal-Mart’s generic version of Dove’s mildly-exfoliating body soap. My razor is one that my former reprobate of a roommate left behind accidentally. It isn’t the sinfully sharp, quadruple-bladed razor that I’m accustomed to; it’s one of those Bic disposable numbers. So, like I said, my hygiene has suffered a little; I can admit that. But in my dirty defense, “bath time is no longer a spa-like experience“. Shoot, as of late, I’ve been so down that I have even had to remind myself to brush my damn teeth each day. The loss of my beauty products hurt a little but I’m proud to report that my hair and skin have held up better than expected… and I still have all my teeth (in spite of my recurring nightmare that I’m missing my front one–we’ll talk about that another time).
I suppose that being separated from my elite beauty products aren’t really my biggest issue though right now. As a matter of fact, although my skin is a bit ashy and my hair is somewhat wiry I must say, I have much bigger fish to fry.
Surprisingly, money is not now nor has it ever been a great source of pleasure for me. I mean, sure I like to shop sometimes, but I simply do not love money; never have. I have dated wealthy men; wasn’t impressed. Hence, I can say, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I will never marry a man for his money. I like to have money for reasons related to financial stability. You know what I mean, friend? I desperately want to be able to comfortably pay my mortgage, car note, and my other giant mountain of debts. I want to comfortably be able to give my children lunch money each day and not have to worry about how I’m going to get groceries from week to week. I want to be able to save my money too like normal people seem to do… And I want to be able to tithe. But more than “anything” I want to be able to help others who are in need. “Especially” single parents and their seemingly indefensible children.
I often joke with God about Him not ever allowing me to win the blasted lottery. I mean, my church would receive more than 10%, I would do mission trips to Africa and South America… building educational facilities all along the way, putting shoes on bare, calloused, little feet–and I could certainly ensure that an exorbitant amount of hungry, suffering children never feel the pangs of hunger in their little bellies again. I could effectively share and spread the Gospel and even put a sizeable dent in the monstrosities that make up the sex trafficking industry. I could pop a few caps in the asses of some of the cartel too! In short, I could help so many people. So why in the world would He not trust me with a bit of money? It just doesn’t make sense, does it? Even if he didn’t choose me, He could at least chose someone with a heart like mine! Ugh! Money is the root of all evil! It’s come to a point where I am disgusted by it and what it represents. I kind of hate it actually. I hate how it distracts people and keeps them from experiencing face-to-face encounters with God. You see, if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that poverty causes you to lean on Jesus, which deepens and sweetens your relationship with Him. In that way, I feel kind of sad for the majority of rich folks. (Disclaimer: I’m not saying that all rich folks don’t have precious relationships with God!)
But I suppose my theories on money and religion aren’t so important right now. You see, I have to admit something, friends. Late Sunday night… early Monday morning, I was in a place of such deep, devastating sorrow that I was, in all sincerity planning my great escape. I was planning on ending my life. My pain was so agonizing and unbearable that night and I had cried until my eyes were almost swollen shut. All the suffering that I had experienced in my life just came together, forming one indescribable but all-consuming ache. I had a plan and began subtly saying my goodbyes to those that I love in the wee small hours of the night. Were it not for my beautiful son Jonah who was peacefully sleeping near me, I know that I would be nothing more than a memory right now. Praise Jesus that I was able to remember back to the night my then, 5-year-old Jeremiah (who was sleeping) and I drove up on my mother’s house to see why she hadn’t been answering the phone all weekend. It was on that fateful night that I discovered that my mother had committed suicide.
I reminisced upon the moments and hours that passed after seeing her lifeless, pale, white body laying in her bed. She had the saddest expression on her face. She looked like her heart had been broken. She had been dead, laying in that bed for three days.
I also reminisced upon her funeral. She asked that we play a few songs, namely “Please Remember” by LeAnn Rimes. It’s a beautiful song, but my heart broke into a thousand pieces when I heard it play at the service. I vaguely remember that I literally let out a moan so deep and so loud during the song that my precious grandfather had to take his focus off of mourning the death of his child, and focus on consoling me. It was one of those soul cries…I just couldn’t maintain my composure sitting there looking at her casket.
Then my mind wandered back to the days before her funeral, pre-visitation. I got my mother ready for her funeral. With the help of my cousin, who is a physician, we managed to get my mother’s body dressed. And mind you, we didn’t pull the easy, funeral parlor trick where you merely cut a slit down the back of a shirt or a dress…we literally got her dressed, from head to toe. She was bloated and had Frankenstein-like stitching all around her head from the autopsy. Remember, my mom was a cop… She once had to participate in an autopsy during her training at the police academy and was happy to report that she “got to crack the skull-cap“. I remember her telling me that the human face is peeled back away from the head and that it simply looks like a mask as it is pulled down and then pulled back up toward the end of the procedure. Add to that, I was also keenly aware that the deceased’s brain and other organs are taken out and weighed–among other things during an autopsy– and then tossed back into the chest cavity which is then sloppily sewn back up.
She was so brave when she was a cop, so I had resigned to be brave like her during this sacred time to ensure that it was “me” taking care of her sweet body, ensuring that she was handled with supreme love and dignity. The Holy Spirit definitely guided me as I prepared her body because I was so much stronger in that moment than you or anyone else could ever imagine. I felt like she was with me and that God was bringing a much-needed sense of peace and understanding to our relationship. Still, there were subtle reminders like her sad-faced, lifeless body reeking of formaldehyde, which was literally oozing from her pores and causing her beautiful hair to fall out as I curled and styled it.
Praise the Maker that was able to successfully get her hair and make-up done. I had managed to get her ready for her funeral all by myself, except for the help that my sweet cousin gave me in actually dressing her body. I was proud of my cosmetology skills but what was bothering me was the fact that she had fallen after taking all the medication that she took. I think she attempted to overdose but discovered that what she had taken did not kill her. I think she sedated herself heavily and then woke up, disappointed that she was not dead yet. I believe this is when she dizzily got up to grab for more pills (the ones that really killed her). When she did she feel into a box fan thus breaking some of her acrylic nails.
I said to myself right then, “MY mother is not going to see Jesus needing a fill!” Hastily and with great determination I called a nail salon that was located across the street from the funeral home. I asked them to please come and help me get my mother’s nails repaired. Now apparently the Vietnamese culture does not play well with the dead, because a timid but traumatized little Asian voice echoed back at me saying, “D-no, we no do dat foe yew mudda! We skeead!” I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit.
Finally though, my tenaciousness and perseverance had paid off. With the help of my cousin, we found someone from a local hospital who was willing to give my mother her final fill. I tell you what, that girl did one heck of a job! She had my dead mother’s arms all sprawled out with “forms” on every nail. By the time this gal was finished my mother’s nails looked amazing and the whole damn funeral home smelled not of formaldehyde, but of acetone! I know it’s not funny, but the entire place smelled like a nail salon!
All this to say, the memories of my mother’s suicide are fresh. So, the question is how could I do that to my Jeremiah and my Jonah? How could I do it to my family? How could I even entertain such thoughts? Who would have found me? Would I have had to have had a closed-casket because the left side of my head was missing from the exit of the bullet?
I know these are maniacally morbid thoughts, but I thought of them all as I weighed out my unspeakable options. Truth be told, I prayed and prayed for Jesus to come back. I desperately wanted the Rapture to happen so my kids and I could just fly away from such an ugly, senseless, evil world. I guess Jesus wasn’t ready to mount His majestic, white horse and ride to my rescue though. Or maybe it was on account of the Battle of Armageddon hasn’t occurred yet or we haven’t all been asked to receive the mark of the Beast!?! Either way, we’re all still here and aren’t winged and singing with the Hosts of Heaven. I apologize if I have offended any of you by prematurely trying to end the world.
But you see, I’m really broke and struggling. I stand to lose everything. My home was literally one day from foreclosure. My attorney met me at 7 am on Labor Day (September 3rd) to allow me to file for bankruptcy; I did. Shortly thereafter, my boyfriend did some things that were absolutely appalling. I had to send him away as his addictions and alcoholism were consuming us. He was also becoming abusive again. Add to that, I found two condoms in his suitcase… We “rarely” have sex and when we do, we don’t use condoms.
I remember clearly back to September the 3rd because it was my late grandmother’s birthday that day. I had been having some problems with dizziness and fainting and that afternoon, I got up too fast I suppose and I fainted. Jonah was standing next to me when it happened. I hit my head really, really hard on the closet door behind me. Jonah screamed “MOMMY” in a tone that affected me to my core; still does today. He was so scared and was crying. I’ve never seen him get that upset and lose it like that. Let’s just say that, in that instant it was painfully clear how much Jonah loved me. It was also the memory of his cry for me that prevented me from making an irreversible decision the other night, which was the morning of the 24th.
“What happened that night?“, you’re probably wondering, that could have taken me to the edge of a cliff like that. I’ll tell you what happened, I found out that I lost my job. Friends, I am yet unemployed again and I have to make a mortgage payment soon PLUS my monthly bankruptcy payment to the trustee. I’ve depleted all of my resources.
I took this job with the hopes of moving up quickly. I don’t mind telling you that I went from making $50K a year to a little over $19K a year. I was literally pulling in $9.53 an hour at the airline I worked for, with all my education and experience. But you know what? I loved that job. I loved the people. I loved working from home, which was a first for me. I worked and trained so hard and it was all taken away in a flash.
So here I am. I do not know what’s going to happen to me next. I have never been angry with God before the other night. However, on that night I felt as if he had completely betrayed me and that all the prayers that I had humbly prayed to him…and I also felt like the time that I had spent on my knees were all in vain or that he was simply choosing to ignore me. Today, I have decided to put up a little bit of a fight…as much as I can. But know this friends, I HATE the devil. He seems to want to devour me and my precious children. It’s getting hard to take. Just when I started feeling connected to the Lord again today, I turned on my computer to write on this blog. I was going to praise God at that time. As soon as my fingers hit the keyboard, my power went out. Our electricity was shut off. I owed $436. Frightful times….
I am going to be writing a lot more in the coming days. This is going to be an interesting ride but I invited you all along a while back. God is going to move in my life. I just don’t know how right now and I am overcome with grief and fear. Please pray for me and my two children as we walk through this horrifically perilous time. I’m running out of tricks, friends. I’m getting older and I’m running out tricks. As a matter of fact, this is how I feel (dramatic, but true nonetheless):
I love you all and will be writing again soon. Sufficed to say, you are loved. The very fact that you are reading this right now, wherever you are…humbles me in unspeakable ways. If you only knew how much YOU keep me going!
The Light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. (John 1:5). I can’t understand it right now either…
All my love,
This is a post from a “dear” friend of mine. It touched my heart and I know it will touch yours too…
In order for a glow stick to shine it must be broken on the inside.
There are some things in life I’d just as soon not know. Knowing it just hurts I have friends who know this fact even more than me. I guarantee they would just as soon not know. But knowing makes you all the deeper, all the more real, all the more able to be used, all the more stronger. I bring three pieces of evidence to the courtroom of the public opinion today:
1) Shari Smith. 2 days before her high school graduation, her father, the pastor of the church in their town, was looking out of the window of his study as his daughter drove up their driveway, get out of the car and check the mail. He went back to studying. A few moments later, he looked up again to see her car still in the driveway with the door open, and…
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