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Posts tagged “dark days

Today is Cancelled

I have nothing I want to share with the world today; no mounting proclamations- not a whisper or thought. There are no pressing deadlines, no stressors upon me. Only the familiar urge to write, simply because I’m a writer. Not a paid one, mind you- nor professional. (As proof of my misused hyphen will attest.) Alas, I abuse hyphens liberally, and probably always will-

…I want to write a memoir. (Doesn’t everybody though?) I’m sure we all feel like we’ve lived through unspeakable atrocities that nobody would or could believe. We’ve all gleaned the golden nuggets of wisdom from the trenches of life that we’re compelled to share.  (There’s old Charlie, hacking and wheezing across the street. He lives with his father and smokes pot incessantly. He doesn’t let old age stop him from having a good spliff now and again. I call him old Charlie because he’s in his late 60’s or so, and his Dad is even older- maybe late 80’s or early 90’s. At all hours of the day and night, we can hear old Charlie out there, a mumble here or there followed by a short pause of silence- and then the hacking begins again.)

Please do feel free to go meander off and watch Spongebob while I ramble on about a memoir that I’ll probably never write. But do want to. There’s just so much work involved. I have the goods- I’ve already lived the story, and am still, but I think the hardest part is actually starting. Writing that first word and knowing how you want to tell the tale. So many times I’ve written blog posts- completely- whole blog posts written out and then deleted them, simply because I felt as if I had nothing worthwhile to say. But that’s the blogger’s curse. But there’s a difference between me and  the stereotypical modern day blogger. Most bloggers collectively know that content is king. For me though, this isn’t a typical “blog”- it’s my diary. My very public, online diary. As I’ve stated before, I want to leave more than a few pictures of me behind. More than a fingerprint. I want to leave an archive. A life in pictures and posts. I never thought I’d still be writing in this thing almost 10 year later! I can look back and read about small walks I took with my kids, or cooking in the kitchen on certain days- what we ate, what we said. LIFE.

And so, back to the memoir. I have an incredible story to tell. How I went from living in an uninhabitable, dilapidated house- wetting the bed and living quite literally like a wild animal. I really don’t care what member of the family reads this stuff and might get offended. Where was anyone at all when I needed help? Where was anyone when I cried at night, alone and afraid, (and very wet and smelly)? Where was anyone when I was molested as a young girl, at age of 9- right in my own house? So no. I don’t want to hear how my life story “offends” anyone. It’s what I had to live through. Everybody else was safe, except me.

From that hell, to growing up seriously disadvantaged. All the cards stacked against me. I should have been a statistic, I really should’ve. Women who’ve suffered less have been. God spared me though. I came through so much hell and hurt and trauma and shame and rage. I was shown grace, and given another chance. God pulled me from the pit and set me on solid ground again.

I look back at it all in amazement that I was able to trudge through the trenches and reach the other side of the river. I stand now in the green, fertile soil; life has come to me again.

I have only one more year to go and I’ll be graduating with my Master’s degree in Psychology and Addiction Counseling. And still, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. For now, Im taking the necessary time off to try and absorb the fact the I no longer have my baby brother with me. For now, I’ll simply exist, and try to make it through each day. I’m giving myself the liberty to not have to do, think, feel, process, or anything else that takes emotional work. For now, I’m in a state of emotional cryogenics. Frozen inside- too numb to feel.

Until another crashing wave comes and drags me under. But then it’s quiet again, and I’ll know that I’ve made it through another rogue wave. There are no smiles within me. No solace. Today hurts. Tomorrow may too, but for now, I’ll distract myself with another adventure game. It hurts too much to think. I know that all of my training is going down the drain in these moments, but it’s o.k. I told myself that I could be in total denial for now and I’m taking my advice!

There will be warmer, better days ahead. As for now though, today is cancelled.

springmill2


Black Days are Here Again

BlackDaysMJ

I’m pretty broken-hearted right now. Bad things just keep happening. People are dying and there’s just nothing I can do but cry. I’ve got 4 weeks of the semester left to go and then I can take a few years down. I’m really having to dig deep and tap into my fierce cross country training I had as a child. I was noodle-skinny and didn’t have a ride home. (Home was a 2 mile walk.) I stayed after school 3 to 4 days per week and on many days we had meets and races against the local schools. I was lightning fast as a kid! But any good racer knows it’s not about the speed but the diligence and steady pacing throughout. It was so hard to deliberately allow people to pass me up at the beginning of the race because I’m so competitive. There’s nothing I hate more than losing. But 2 & 3/4 of a mile in, I passed many of those girls up who were bent over holding their sides- walking it out. I was delirious with pain and utterly exhausted, but honed in and focused on my breathing and speed. There was nothing else to do but push on. I finished almost every 3 mile race and ended up with two medals and a whole slew of ribbons over those three years.

One day, my cross country teacher (Mr. Lang) found out my dirty secret. I had been running the two miles home after running 3 mile races. I was embarrassed because nobody could pick me up after school. One day, he offered me a ride and when he found out I’d been running home too, he became my official ride. I became his star runner and he really shaped me into a strong child athlete. I was only 9. So now, even after all these years, when I’m hit with a hard time, I reach back and grab those early life lessons; that training carved into me some serious strength of character.

So now I have to focus on school. I was so close to dropping out the other day, but Josh- he knows just what to say to get to me! He knows me better than anyone. He reminded me that I had an obligation. “It’s about the principle, Birgy.” And that’s all it took. He knows that “principle” means more to me than anything else in a matter. I’ll haggle for 5 hours over two pennies if somebody’s trying to get one over on me, but give away everything I have to people who need it. It’s the principle of it.

So now, heart falling out of my chest, I push on and remind myself that the end of the race is the most important part of all. It’s at the end that people start dropping off like flies. Not much different than a spiritual race. People I’ve known for 30 years now are turning into heartless, loveless beasts. Cruel animals.

I was told recently about this poor old Christian woman in the hospital. One of her sons went and told her that the reason she didn’t have cards and flowers is because she was too “spiritual” and talked about God too much and that nobody wanted to go and see her. What’s this world coming to when you can do that to your own mother when she’s down- and then call yourself a Christian too? God help us.

Black days…