The hoshpital

So....
Friday?
Friday. Nope. I never have a good sense of time. It was possibly wednesday.
Friday morning my sister woke me up crying. With her crying, that is. She's 19 and she was moaning and bawling like a baby. It was just before 2:30 am. She couldn't stop crying and moaning. I sat next to her and she clung to me like a little kid. And bawled. I tried to sing and comfort her and my voice was scratchy...She laid in bed and talked to our mom for a little bit. I was watching her. My nineteen year old sister, crying as hard as I've ever seen.
I had been feeling peace but this weighed down on me.
I went into my room and wrote about it. About how I didn't feel hope. How this perspective was being forced at me.
I looked up hope in my bible's concordance and this is what I found:

So I say, "my endurance has perished; so has my hope from the LORD." But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, `"therefore I will hope in him."

- Lamentations 3:18, 21-24

I set it as my status. As a reminder and a quiet message to my family. I prayed. I passed out. 

They admitted Sara and she's been at the hospital since. My hope is that they can find out what's wrong, and a hospital seems like a good environment for her, because of all her pain.

Answers, peace, healing, comfort, strength...

We need some prayer.

Adventures in Stupidity

There's this guy at my church.
I've known him since we were both children but I've never known him beyond just name. His sister was my best friend at one point, but it's been a while.
Suddenly he's in youth group. Whatever.
Suddenly he thinks it's okay to touch me.
No.
I can't even express how much this bothered me. I started attending my church less and less frequently because of him. Everyone but him knew that I didn't want him anywhere near me; I made it obvious. Apparently he is the master of oblivion because he had no idea.
In his defense, he saw me mostly around D and H who I am both very touchy with. He saw me hugging on them and figured that's how I roll. Which is why I ever hugged him, ever. I didn't want to be rude.
Here's the thing. I've known D literally as long as I can remember. I apparently met H later but I don't remember meeting her. I don't think we were around each other a lot.
Both of these people are very, very close to my heart. I love H like a little sister and I want to protect her from all the bad things in the world. D's like...I don't know what he is. He and I have a unique relationship. I'd say he's like a brother but that would be slightly creepy given that half the time when we talk it's filled with wild, inappropriate, empty flirting. He's just D. The end. Anyway, I love them both.
You have to get a certain seal of approval to touch me. It has to do with your personality, how well I know you, how I perceive you...it's complicated.
He did not have this seal of approval.
And for all the talking I do, i am REALLY non-confrontational.
So this went on for the entire summer.
Me trying to leave things without him seeing me and hugging me goodbye. Me trying to have things in my hands so that he wouldn't hug me.
One day I was sitting at a table eating a doughnut or something. He comes up behind me says hello and hugs me from behind and starts rubbing my back.
What.
The.
Heck.Like, really slowly. My upper back. I don't know in what world that's appropriate. Unnecessarily intimate, much? I wanted to hurt him.
Hence Mister Slicey.
Mister Slicey is the name for my eventual knife.
I felt the need to get a knife because this a-hole wouldn't leave me alone.
I discussed him with people and eventually my mom told my dad that he needed to put the fear of god into this guy. Shortly thereafter I was talking to my mom about my feelings and decided I wanted to do it.
He made me feel powerless and weak. That I wasn't in control of my own body or what people will do to it. He made me wonder if I'm destined to always just lay back and accept people doing things to me that I don't like.
I'm a fighter, but there are some battles I don't fight. Some I don't fight because I just don't see it as important enough. Sometimes I'm afraid.
Sometimes I'm completely immobilized.
When he started touching me I just didn't like it but I figured he would stop. He wouldn't. I started to feel faraway. I started to feel really traumatized.
The day I talked to my mom was a Tuesday. I decided I would go to church the following night and tell him to piss off.
I took my sister's pocket knife with me.
I couldn't stop holding it.
It made me feel like I had some control.
Did I think I would stab him?
I wasn't planning on it, but I liked to know I could.
I sat in a tactically advantageous place in the room. On the edge of the arm of a couch. I could see everyone, no one could sneak up on me. I could be up in less than a second and the door was a straight shot.
I sat there flicking the knife open and shut.
He never actually showed up.
I was disappointed. I wanted to face my demon.
Nonetheless he was at church that sunday. When he came to hug me I told him no offense but i really don't like people i don't know to touch me. it's not personal, it's just me. D was sitting with me and he said how this guy was cool. I said sure. I just don't know him.
I thought for a while that D was probably right and it was probably just that I don't know him well enough. But the more time I spend with him the less I like him. He's a creep. H loves everyone and she thinks he's cool. Other people at church and I have had many a conversation about him, though, and it's nice to know I'm not alone. Little D, K, R, and I had a talk about him that was basically everyone being like, "am i the only one who thinks he's totally creepy?" and my comments were 1. i'm glad it's not just me and 2. if he gets within three feet of me i'll kill him.
Again I don't think he understands this. He keeps making dumb comments when I don't move to hug him about how i don't know him and asks oh you know so and so but not me.
Listen. The more you're bothered by not being able to touch me, the less likely I am to let you touch me. I really don't like this kid.
Our youth group went to a service project recently and on the way back he was playing with the girls' hair. It was creepy as all hell. They all had their hair down and I had mine in a bun. He played with K's hair (she was next to me) and as soon as I felt his hand on my hair I said, "I will murder you."
I meant it as a joke but it came out in an intense monotone. Everyone else was kind of stunned but he didn't stop touching my head! I had to jerk away and say "Please do not touch my hair." And he was all, "who, me?"
What's wrong with this guy?
I really, really don't like him.

Repetition. Habit. Redundancy.

I've heard it said that our brains have ruts in them. Not physically of course, but our minds. When you hear something you react in a certain way. If you react that way enough it becomes second-nature to you, to the point that you don't even consider reacting in a different way. I think we go through a lot of our lives on autopilot. I have OCD and this is okay with me; there are a lot of ticks I have and if I were forbidden to do them I would be climbing the walls. Watch my right-hand fingers in a car sometime, there's a small thing I've been doing ever since I was a kid. With the mental problems I apparently have, repetition can be very soothing. So when the pattern is disrupted, it can really jar me. Somehow, on the other hand repetition can make me crazy. There's a rumour going around that I might be bi-polar and I certainly understand where they see that. But the way I see it is I'm just really passionate. I don't want to be stuck with one thing forever. I need to do weird things sometimes, open unmarked doors, and look for adventure. Because as nice as repetition can feel, I'm only going to be here once and I'd rather not sleep through it.

I'd like to add a few quotes from one of my favorite webcomics, xkcd.

The infinite possibilities each day holds should stagger the mind. The sheer number of experiences I could have is uncountable, breathaking, and I'm sitting here refreshing my inbox. We live trapped in loops. Reliving a few days over and over, and we envision only a handful of paths laid out ahead of us. We see the same things each day, we respond the same way, we think the same thoughts, each day a slight variation on the last, every moment smoothly following the gentle curves of societal norms. We act like if we just get through today, tomorrow our dreams will come back to us.

And no, I don't have all the answers. I don't know how to jolt myself into seeing what each moment could become. But I do know one thing: the solution doesn't involve  watering down my every little idea and creative impulse for the sake of someday easing my fit into a mold. It doesn't involve tempering my life to better fit someone's expectations. It doesn't involve constantly holding back for fear of shaking things up.

- dreams

Take wrong turns. Talk to strangers. Open unmarked doors. And if you see a group of people in a field, go find out what they're doing. Do things without always knowing how they'll turn out. You're curious and smart and bored, and all you see is the choice between working hard and slacking off. There are so many adventures that you miss because you're waiting to think of a plan. To find them, look for tiny interesting choices. And remember that you are always making up the future as you go.

- Choices: part 4

Feeling "Share-y-ish"

I decided to post on facebook about the existence of my blog because I felt like sharing with people. People are interested, which is weird, but okay. The thing is I still have this fear of writing for people to read, falling below their expectations, ruining their opinion of me. There are some people I like. I want them to like me. It's not that I put up a front when I'm around people, I'm just guarded. And when I can just sit and listen to music and write it really helps me. But the thought of other people reading my writing makes it much less candid. It makes me want to take down posts and try to make my blog presentable. There are a couple of issues with this, though. For one, if I'm writing with guards up that does more harm than good and it makes my writing crap. It's also impossible. If I cleaned this blog up and removed everything uncomfortable it would have very few posts. So maybe I need to buck up, send someone a carrier pigeon, and deal with some consequences. I'd rather not be keeping my stupid words to myself forever. Writing to oneself seems particularly pointless.

So I suppose I shall explain myself somewhat.

Hello hypothetical new reader.
There are some things you need to know.

There are some things that I don't tell everyone in the world. Some of these things I am very comfortable writing about. Suffice it to say that you will probably learn some unsavory things about me so try and brace yourself.
My writing is for the most part just a stream of consciousness. The posts I have planned out are still in my draft box, because I don't write like that.
I use a lot of disclaimers and swear words. Deal with it.

Poetry,ish.

 HEY.

Some of these (especially the first) are personal and intense and sad. Read at your own risk. I wrote these a while ago. I feel better now. Just a disclaimer. I don't want to shock anyone too badly. I would feel really bad.



Your name

Sounds like a foreign word

After all these years

Just how many, I don't know

I was little

Was it my fault?

Did I want this?

Is it okay to feel

the way that I feel?

Is it adding to the brand

and is that so bad?

I feel so sick just remembering

God, where were you?

Why did you let this happen?

I scrub and scrub

But I don't feel clean

Each clean mark shows how dirty I really am

I can never clean myself

I feel hopeless

but redemption

is more than a feeling

~~******~~



My moments are leaving
They are slipping
Through my fingers
Through the cracks
How do I stop them?
Where are they going?


~~******~~


Please
Feel me
See me
Hear me
No
Stop
Listen!
Listen to what I'm not saying
See the me
Behind the mask
Please
Hold me close
Don't let me go
Don't let me fall
I can't get up again
I'm tired of failure.
I can't recover on my own.

~~******~~

"Who will you serve?"

I heard the question

And foolishly,

I thought I knew my answer.

But now...

Here I lay

Bleeding

Not living

Heart beating

Between the awful thoughts that I can't stop

I know

This choosing made every day

Shows truth

Shows who I'm serving

I don't know how to change this

Or even if I want to

Truth is...

I can't.

And don't.

But he can.

But he does.

Yahweh

Father

Will you save me from myself?

~~******~~

Intimate.

I showed you my poems

Told you my secrets

You didn't run away

You hold me when I cry

Is it okay

That I feel like a see-saw

Afraid and broken

Did we break each other?

Did I break you?

~~******~~

I never knew brotherly love to be so strong

I adore you

you are my hero

My teacher

My brother

You make me mad

Make me laugh

You give the best hugs

Remember?

Lakes

Blankets

Smoothies

Getting baptized in a hot tub

But things change.

Work

College

Projects

Am I still your sister?

~~******~~

Perfect.

Wake up!

A brisk winter day

Perfect dreams shattered

By a cold bedroom

An alarm clock's ringing

Clarity creeps in

Between the covers

Between the figment and the reality

Sweet air

Open sky

A smile spreads

For this is the day that the Lord has made

Boys will be boys, baby.

For those of you who don't know, my friend T is missing part of his second toe on his left foot. This happened when he was mowing the lawn on a mission trip. I watched it happen and while we don't always talk a lot he's still one of my favorite people ever and at times we've been, dare i say, close. A while back I wrote a poem about this experience and this is that poem. It's hard to make "lawn mower" sound poetic.

You push the mower back and forth

Back and forth till-

Trauma

A gash in skin

A gush of blood

You run

Down the hill

"Call 911"

I stare and pray

I see a bone

She grabs my arm

I can't move

I can't look away

From you

The pain in your eyes

She turns me aside and I feel like she woke me up

I watch them take you

Cry and write

Phone calls are made

"There's been an accident"

We go to dinner

Without you

"Are you okay?"

I just nod and poke my food

I need to get out

I have to do something

Everyone's rehashing the detail

All day

"How did it happen?"

You've become a puzzle

You squeeze my hand, we hug, it's almost enough

We go home

Without you

I hear you screaming all night long