Sometimes, when we get hurt, we act like wounded animals. The strong ones lash out while the weak ones hide, but neither help or trust one another. Sometimes misunderstandings and miscommunications grow up to become mistakes and misgivings that may not ever be undone. Sometimes I want to start over.
People are so hard sometimes. We are all so different. We perceive differently, we hope differently, we mourn differently, we feel differently and we love differently. I will be the first to admit there are people in my life I do not understand.
It's possible to forgive anyone and everyone. I will be the first to admit I fail and do not. Every Sunday I confess my sins. I have no hope but God.
I am the hiding, weaker wounded. I hold many thoughts and feelings inside. The few times I have tried to express them, someone stronger strikes out and I recoil. I have learned to be silent; to wait and hope one day things will magically be healed. They rarely are.
My relationship with my father is difficult and I don't know what else to say.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Things around the house that make me happy, Part 2
Mom's fiery marigolds
Apple season is almost upon us!!! BEST harvest of the year.
My old dog grinning like an idiot because he now has an official,
bought-from-the-store-squeaking-deluxe-dog-toy.
A pair of morning glory (or sweet pea) plants growing in my window. I like not
knowing which one they are.
An envelope on my dresser :)
The vast and wonderful world of music
A invitation
This particularly adorable little guy. Whom I can't keep, but I can
love for a few more weeks anyway.
And my brand new cookie monster shirt. :)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
The hurt
As I sit, there's the sweetest puppy, only 4 weeks old, sleeping on my lap. I would say sleeping peacefully, but not really. He's having violent tremors in his sleep. It's common with baby dogs. They grow up so fast their little muscles don't know how to handle it sometimes and they just shake. It's so sad when their tiny bodies get caught up in such furious seizures. I snuggle him closer and stroke his little head and tell him not to worry, it's normal, he will be ok... but I can't stop his trembling. It will come and go and continue until he is strong enough to stop it.
It was gloomy all yesterday and rained all last night. It seemed like all the melancholy and aggravation of the heavens were being let go. Storms teach us that sometimes you need to have the freedom to release everything that's stored up inside. The torrents of tears, the flashes of anger, the yelling clouds, and the confusion of winds blowing you every which way. I don't feel free to let those things out. People are always watching and I have always been terribly afraid of people. Losing their love and respect. Falling short of their good opinion. Making them unhappy. I try to hold it all in. I know I can't handle it but I always think I have to try. I have storms inside and through all these years I still haven't learn how to let them go.
Someone I love is far away. This week I learned he will be much farther away for another year. I guess it doesn't make much difference; I can't be with him now and I won't be with him there. But it makes such a huge difference. The farther he goes the more my heart stretches to try and go with him and it is stretched so tightly now I can't think about it stretching any more and every now and then I feel it tearing but I can't help it because I can't stop him and I can't stop my heart from loving him so just like a shaking puppy no matter how much I try to rest peacefully, and no matter how many times people tell me it will be ok, I can't because I am not strong enough yet.
The sun came out this morning but I'm not there yet. I am still learning how to let go of the rain.
It was gloomy all yesterday and rained all last night. It seemed like all the melancholy and aggravation of the heavens were being let go. Storms teach us that sometimes you need to have the freedom to release everything that's stored up inside. The torrents of tears, the flashes of anger, the yelling clouds, and the confusion of winds blowing you every which way. I don't feel free to let those things out. People are always watching and I have always been terribly afraid of people. Losing their love and respect. Falling short of their good opinion. Making them unhappy. I try to hold it all in. I know I can't handle it but I always think I have to try. I have storms inside and through all these years I still haven't learn how to let them go.
Someone I love is far away. This week I learned he will be much farther away for another year. I guess it doesn't make much difference; I can't be with him now and I won't be with him there. But it makes such a huge difference. The farther he goes the more my heart stretches to try and go with him and it is stretched so tightly now I can't think about it stretching any more and every now and then I feel it tearing but I can't help it because I can't stop him and I can't stop my heart from loving him so just like a shaking puppy no matter how much I try to rest peacefully, and no matter how many times people tell me it will be ok, I can't because I am not strong enough yet.
The sun came out this morning but I'm not there yet. I am still learning how to let go of the rain.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Fish are jumpin', the cotton is high ♫
Summertime:
Cool swim on a hot day anyone?
My baby sister enjoying a friend's pool
Goggle fun
...Even more goggle fun :p
Sister's boyfriend noticing that I'm creeping everyone with my camera
I love it when Winston smiles
mmmm memories....
...and the living is easy :)
Cool swim on a hot day anyone?
My baby sister enjoying a friend's pool
Goggle fun
...Even more goggle fun :p
Sister's boyfriend noticing that I'm creeping everyone with my camera
I love it when Winston smiles
mmmm memories....
...and the living is easy :)
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Something wonderful
The most beautiful gifts are unexpected.
Once upon forever, I've wanted something. Timidly, fervently, greatly. It's not a passing desire flying on a fancy. Not a whim, nor a craving; no consumer's opium....a yearning knit deeply to my insides, carefully interwoven with bones. If you follow the thread from needle to knot, you will pass through the middle, through the spirit, through the heart. I feel it because I am alive.
12 days ago a man woke up in our basement. He is used to waking before me. The military has apparently gotten a hold of his internal clock, even at 6:00 am on vacation. I was quietly sleeping until I was awakened by the faint beeping on my phone. Rubbing my eyes I read: 1 new text message.
"I am awake and missing you. I love you."
I had just said goodnight to him 6 hours before. I smiled. Normally, I wouldn't have gotten up for another hour and I was tired. For a moment, I considered simply enjoying the thought that he wanted to be with me and closing my eyes again to steal just a little more slumber. But I couldn't. I realized I missed him too. It felt silly. He was only in the other room. A few walls and some stairs away, that's it. Yet somehow, that was a few walls & stairs too many. I didn't really think about what that meant because I was too busy jumping out of bed to go find him.
We sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and talking for a while. "I have to go soon." He whispered. He always talks quietly when he says that. I know why. We drove to the airport later that day and had to say goodbye again.
In the past, it's been a little hard to leave. This time it was heartbreaking. I don't know why my tears caught me off guard. I know now, I love him too. Really. Really, really, thoroughly. Wonderfully and painfully. He told me it would be ok and told my sister to take care of me, then flew 893 miles away.
A few walls & stairs too far...
I miss him more than I can tell you.
Once upon forever, I've wanted something. Timidly, fervently, greatly. It's not a passing desire flying on a fancy. Not a whim, nor a craving; no consumer's opium....a yearning knit deeply to my insides, carefully interwoven with bones. If you follow the thread from needle to knot, you will pass through the middle, through the spirit, through the heart. I feel it because I am alive.
12 days ago a man woke up in our basement. He is used to waking before me. The military has apparently gotten a hold of his internal clock, even at 6:00 am on vacation. I was quietly sleeping until I was awakened by the faint beeping on my phone. Rubbing my eyes I read: 1 new text message.
"I am awake and missing you. I love you."
I had just said goodnight to him 6 hours before. I smiled. Normally, I wouldn't have gotten up for another hour and I was tired. For a moment, I considered simply enjoying the thought that he wanted to be with me and closing my eyes again to steal just a little more slumber. But I couldn't. I realized I missed him too. It felt silly. He was only in the other room. A few walls and some stairs away, that's it. Yet somehow, that was a few walls & stairs too many. I didn't really think about what that meant because I was too busy jumping out of bed to go find him.
We sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and talking for a while. "I have to go soon." He whispered. He always talks quietly when he says that. I know why. We drove to the airport later that day and had to say goodbye again.
In the past, it's been a little hard to leave. This time it was heartbreaking. I don't know why my tears caught me off guard. I know now, I love him too. Really. Really, really, thoroughly. Wonderfully and painfully. He told me it would be ok and told my sister to take care of me, then flew 893 miles away.
A few walls & stairs too far...
I miss him more than I can tell you.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Ignore this post.
I hate my job.
ok, let me preface this by saying I am entirely grateful for the blessing of being able to make a productive living for the last 6 years. I am incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to work and provide for myself. I sincerely thank God for everything he's taken me through for the greater half of the last decade because I know, ultimately, it's for my own good, and I have benefited from the experiences.
But I hate my job.
I dread, with every bit of my being, pulling myself out of bed and driving 50 miles to that place. I put gold into my fuel tank (at least it feels like it) and watch it fall out of my car behind me on the long road. When I arrive, I am greeted by a foul stench and stale air as I walk through the door. The stench never goes away, I just get accustomed to it. In the wintertime, the building is cold. In the summer it's cold. Dirty male truck drivers frequent the women's bathroom and leave traces of their "presence" for me to clean up after them. The massive, hollow building is vacant but for a few people here and there and usually deathly haunting and quiet. Sometimes the man who owns it pay the electric bill, sometimes he decides to wait until after our power has been shut off and we've been deprived of a whole day of work before he takes care of it. There are traces of rodents everywhere; I sweep up their poop and occasionally their carcases. The dumpster sometimes gets emptied. Sometimes we store trash up waiting. The floor is filthy, and the more you clean it, the worse it seems to get. The 5 second rule will kill you in this building.
Our office is dull with two tiny windows to torture me with sunshine I can't play in. I keep it stocked with office supplies the best I am able. When we run out of something, I buy more. When the company can't afford it, I pay for it myself. I have a stack of receipts for office supplies that may or may not ever get paid back. But I do it because I want to. It's my contribution to the welfare of our little, hurting company, and I wouldn't ever want anyone I work with to know about it. But I won't lie, it makes it that much harder to keep my cool when someone complains we've run out of cups, or paper, or pens (that simply mysteriously disappear, no one steals them) or asks for the 14th time "When are you going to buy me my supplies I keep asking for??"
Every Monday morning I am more often greeted with "Get me this" or "What can you tell me about this" by workers then with "Hello." or "Good Morning".
We have bills we can't pay. I don't have answers for why. There are many reason. Some are just unfortunate and lots are due to bad decisions. But it's not my job to critique the decisions. It's my job to pay the bills. This is the hardest part of my job. I know, I know full well, that the way the company chooses to spend it's money isn't up to me. I haven't, and don't, make any decisions on what is a good idea financially and what is not. I just write the checks. But for someone like me, who has been raised all of her life to believe in the pitfalls of debt, and the extreme importance of living within your means and making wise financial investments.....I can't shake it. I can't separate myself emotionally. I just can't. When I sit at my desk and just stare at the bulging folder full of invoices I know full well we can't pay....it breaks my heart. I don't know what to do. It's my job to pay these people what we've agreed to pay them and I can't do it. Then add on top of that faces of employees who work hard for the money, who deserve their money and more...having to tell them we can't reimburse them right now. Asking them to hold their paychecks til we have sufficient funds. The bank notices. The bill collectors. The red numbers. The overwhelming debt. The fear of it all collapsing on itself. It's beyond a guilt trip. It's a guilt trip wrapped inside a stress-fest.
Add to that the occassional customer phone call that goes devistatingly wrong and I'm on the verge of disappearing from civilization completely. I can't deal with any more pressure.
This is why a lighthearted joke like "It's all Olivia's fault" or "If we didn't pay you so much we'd be ok" makes me want to curl into a corner and cry. I know, I know, I'm sensitive and you were joking.
I come home at night exhausted. Not because I have done anything hard (I sit in a chair getting fat....oh yay.) but because I am just totally drained. Then I attempt my detachment ritual. I try to let it all go and forget about all of it. I pretend like I am totally free from it. I don't have to worry about any of it any more. Rarely do I convince myself...there's just this annoying little logical part of my brain that reminds me "You have to do it all over again tomorrow." that I can't get rid off.
The worst part is that I know if I leave there's really no one who will want to take on the mess that I leave.
But if I'm honest with myself, I don't think I can do it much longer. I used to think I was just a selfish brat for wanting out. I've tried my hardest to make the most of things while I'm here and I will continue to do for as long as I stay. It many ways there have been things that make it worth it. But I'm not sure that's the case anymore.
So fair warning:
I hate my job and I have come to terms with it.
ok, let me preface this by saying I am entirely grateful for the blessing of being able to make a productive living for the last 6 years. I am incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to work and provide for myself. I sincerely thank God for everything he's taken me through for the greater half of the last decade because I know, ultimately, it's for my own good, and I have benefited from the experiences.
But I hate my job.
I dread, with every bit of my being, pulling myself out of bed and driving 50 miles to that place. I put gold into my fuel tank (at least it feels like it) and watch it fall out of my car behind me on the long road. When I arrive, I am greeted by a foul stench and stale air as I walk through the door. The stench never goes away, I just get accustomed to it. In the wintertime, the building is cold. In the summer it's cold. Dirty male truck drivers frequent the women's bathroom and leave traces of their "presence" for me to clean up after them. The massive, hollow building is vacant but for a few people here and there and usually deathly haunting and quiet. Sometimes the man who owns it pay the electric bill, sometimes he decides to wait until after our power has been shut off and we've been deprived of a whole day of work before he takes care of it. There are traces of rodents everywhere; I sweep up their poop and occasionally their carcases. The dumpster sometimes gets emptied. Sometimes we store trash up waiting. The floor is filthy, and the more you clean it, the worse it seems to get. The 5 second rule will kill you in this building.
Our office is dull with two tiny windows to torture me with sunshine I can't play in. I keep it stocked with office supplies the best I am able. When we run out of something, I buy more. When the company can't afford it, I pay for it myself. I have a stack of receipts for office supplies that may or may not ever get paid back. But I do it because I want to. It's my contribution to the welfare of our little, hurting company, and I wouldn't ever want anyone I work with to know about it. But I won't lie, it makes it that much harder to keep my cool when someone complains we've run out of cups, or paper, or pens (that simply mysteriously disappear, no one steals them) or asks for the 14th time "When are you going to buy me my supplies I keep asking for??"
Every Monday morning I am more often greeted with "Get me this" or "What can you tell me about this" by workers then with "Hello." or "Good Morning".
We have bills we can't pay. I don't have answers for why. There are many reason. Some are just unfortunate and lots are due to bad decisions. But it's not my job to critique the decisions. It's my job to pay the bills. This is the hardest part of my job. I know, I know full well, that the way the company chooses to spend it's money isn't up to me. I haven't, and don't, make any decisions on what is a good idea financially and what is not. I just write the checks. But for someone like me, who has been raised all of her life to believe in the pitfalls of debt, and the extreme importance of living within your means and making wise financial investments.....I can't shake it. I can't separate myself emotionally. I just can't. When I sit at my desk and just stare at the bulging folder full of invoices I know full well we can't pay....it breaks my heart. I don't know what to do. It's my job to pay these people what we've agreed to pay them and I can't do it. Then add on top of that faces of employees who work hard for the money, who deserve their money and more...having to tell them we can't reimburse them right now. Asking them to hold their paychecks til we have sufficient funds. The bank notices. The bill collectors. The red numbers. The overwhelming debt. The fear of it all collapsing on itself. It's beyond a guilt trip. It's a guilt trip wrapped inside a stress-fest.
Add to that the occassional customer phone call that goes devistatingly wrong and I'm on the verge of disappearing from civilization completely. I can't deal with any more pressure.
This is why a lighthearted joke like "It's all Olivia's fault" or "If we didn't pay you so much we'd be ok" makes me want to curl into a corner and cry. I know, I know, I'm sensitive and you were joking.
I come home at night exhausted. Not because I have done anything hard (I sit in a chair getting fat....oh yay.) but because I am just totally drained. Then I attempt my detachment ritual. I try to let it all go and forget about all of it. I pretend like I am totally free from it. I don't have to worry about any of it any more. Rarely do I convince myself...there's just this annoying little logical part of my brain that reminds me "You have to do it all over again tomorrow." that I can't get rid off.
The worst part is that I know if I leave there's really no one who will want to take on the mess that I leave.
But if I'm honest with myself, I don't think I can do it much longer. I used to think I was just a selfish brat for wanting out. I've tried my hardest to make the most of things while I'm here and I will continue to do for as long as I stay. It many ways there have been things that make it worth it. But I'm not sure that's the case anymore.
So fair warning:
I hate my job and I have come to terms with it.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
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