G'day all,
I would like to start out by saying that Echinacea tea is very soothing. I'm not much of a drinker (of anything. I don't mean alcohol, I'm not a drinker of that either). My suitemates call my tea "euthanasia tea" because of the similarity of words and also because it makes me pretty mellow... and also because the box it comes in shows strange pictures of Indian mystics meditating.... Go figure, i'm not dead yet. lol. At least it keeps me hydrated.
Will, after staying up half the night doing one of those walks to fight cancer, woke up very sick. I learned this afternoon that he, like me, is hillarious when sick. I don't say this to embarrass him, but the truth is, our conversation was quite amusing. I don't know exactly what it is that fevers do to the mind, but when some people get fevers they develop a sort of irregular creative thought pattern that is both inspiring and completely incoherent. I know what you're thinking, and yes, perhaps you're right. This could also be called "madness"... But before you write me off, consider all the genius works of literature and art that were created by people who had "slightly altered" minds... At one point in our conversation Will called American vowels "whores", and proceeded to explain their permiscuous and incestual relations with one another, the result of which is the English language and the existance of far more vowels than the 5 we acknowledge... I have probably stated this incorrectly, but he has a fever so he may never know... hehehe. Get some rest love.
I've been a complete hermit for the past week and a half, and for some reason it hasn't bothered me that much. I've done a lot of reading, which is what I need to be doing for class. The other day I realized that i've been pulling away from some of my friendships here. It hasn't been a conscious thing, but i've learned a lot from it. At the beginning of the year my roommate of 2 years and one of my other friends announced that they were going to get a house together next year. I wasn't mad when she told me, I was just dissapointed and a little hurt. Its just that I spent a year and a half trying to become intimate with this group of people, and their friendships were the deepest I had here. Unfortunately, they've all known each other since they were little. I understand that, I really do, I have friends like that back home (I miss you guys a lot btw). I guess they just didn't ever really need anyone else. *shrugs* What can ya do? Anyways, so i've been spending time with my future apartment-mates. You really find out who cares when you stop making all the effort. There is one thing that does really bug me- The only reason one of my friends ever comes into my room is to ask where my room mate is... *sigh* people bug me sometimes. Luckily I have amazing friends here and at home... And don't get me wrong, I love my room mate to death. I'm over it.
Well kids, I must go study.
Peace!
April 08, 2006
April 06, 2006
A very personal post... made very public.
I'm reading a book for a class written by a missionary serving in Africa. In Africa, he says, if you get bitten by a snake, the only way to survive is to draw the poison from the wound slowly. It takes quite some time, but you will survive.
People tell me that i'm "tough". I'm not sure what this means, but perhaps in some capacity they are right. I grew up surrounded by depression, anger, and lonliness. Not to say that my childhood was bad, or that I don't love my family, that is purely untrue. All families have their tough times, and mine is no exception. Its just that in my home, everyone was lonely.
I don't know what miracle or divine scheme protected me from depression in high school, but somehow, unlike most of my friends and family, I resisted it. My sister writes in her poetry that depression is a painful darkness- darkness of the mind, of the spirit, of the body. There is no place you can point to and say "this hurts". It's either all numb, or all pain. When she is depressed, the darkness does the talking for her. I've seen it time and time again. One tiny thing goes amiss, and that darkness starts pouring out in an uncontrolled string of hate, anger, and self-loathing. When I went home over spring break, she had run out of her medication, and flew into a rage over not being allowed to drive the car on the interstate (she just got her lerner's permit). It's true, it does seem selfish to demand the right to drive where ever you want when first learning, and I was a little shocked to see a 15 year-old acting 2. We were going to a resturant (it was my last meal at home before going back to school), and she was so mad at mom for not letting her drive that she stormed into the restroom and stayed there. My mom just slumped over in her chair, looking so sad and so defeated. Finally, I walked into the bathroom and called my sisiter out of the stall. I told her I was sorry she was out of her medication, but the way she had acted was very out of line. The girl who emerged from the bathroom wasn't the girl I had heard hurling insults at Mom a few minutes earlier. She was just ashamed of the way she had acted, and frustrated that she wasn't able to contain it. It took me years to figure it out. I still get mad when that hateful spew begins, but now I understand it. Now I just cry thinking about my little sister living in the dark.
When I was 8 or 9 I wrote in my diary that I was afraid my mom and dad were going to get divorced. I remember running to my mom's room crying and asking her flat out- "Are you and dad going to get divorced?". I still remember her face- such surprise and sadness that I would think such a thought. "No Laura" she told me, "I don't want to leave your father, and as far as I know he doesn't want to leave me. Don't worry." I've seen my mother cry many times since that day.
I remember very clearly that summer day in early highschool. Dad was in England on a trip. I heard the basement door open, and saw the figure of my mom walk into the kitchen, but nothing about her was my mom. Now, when you live with and spend time around people, you can generally tell when something is going on with them. "Are you ok?" I asked. Right question, wrong time. Then my mom, who before that day never expressed her feelings, broke down on the floor, sobbing like her life would end. I was so shocked that I also burst into tears. She didn't say much. All she said was "Dad is looking at a job in England."
Children are never supposed to be supports for their parents, but I never knew that. At the time, my mom didn't know she was using me, and in recent years we have developed a much healthier and balanced relationship. I would never judge my mom for being honest with me, and I have forgiven her of any wrongs she may have done me. We have both learned a lot. My mom has lived in the dark for longer than I have been alive, and only recently has she been able to emerge and see herself and her life clearly. I admire her for her decision to get help and take control of herself for the first time.
Through-out my later highschool years I served as comfort to mother and sometimes sister, mediator, councilor, etc, etc... In that time I grew up. There was no time for anything else. Somehow, that little girl who knew nothing about pain and grief and relationships with family matured beyond her years. I don't say this to sound arrogant, though I am thankful for the knowledge I gained. I quickly realized the situation I was in, and what was wrong with it. I learned what things like patience, compassion, communication, servitude, and grace are. I loved more deeply than ever before, but I also hurt more than ever.
Fast-forward through the next few years. These are some scenes from my life you might be surprised by: Overheard late night conversations, midnight expeditions (I sleep over the garage door for pete's sake), false information never explained, and the observation of an unknowing friend resulting in my embarrassment and a dead end explanation.
But now, its all over. Mom and Dad are over. I guess i'll just "get over it", "move on", and continue to be treated like none of it happened to me- Like I am too ignorant in my youth to understand or handle the truth. So go ahead and assume its all about you. Until you can appoligize for those years of confusion and pain and acknowlege that you should have done the job that I was doing for you, I don't want to talk about it. I didn't want to play "head of the household" for my teen years, but I did because I love you. You see, all I want is to love you fully, but you have to let me. You can start with the mysteries, thats all I ask for- answers.
I'm sorry that the truth hurts. But I have to get rid of this poison before it kills the good in me. I only hope what I say now can be the beginning of something new and beautiful. That's all I want- answers. But thats not really what I want-
What I want is love. Love is built on trust.
People tell me that i'm "tough". I'm not sure what this means, but perhaps in some capacity they are right. I grew up surrounded by depression, anger, and lonliness. Not to say that my childhood was bad, or that I don't love my family, that is purely untrue. All families have their tough times, and mine is no exception. Its just that in my home, everyone was lonely.
I don't know what miracle or divine scheme protected me from depression in high school, but somehow, unlike most of my friends and family, I resisted it. My sister writes in her poetry that depression is a painful darkness- darkness of the mind, of the spirit, of the body. There is no place you can point to and say "this hurts". It's either all numb, or all pain. When she is depressed, the darkness does the talking for her. I've seen it time and time again. One tiny thing goes amiss, and that darkness starts pouring out in an uncontrolled string of hate, anger, and self-loathing. When I went home over spring break, she had run out of her medication, and flew into a rage over not being allowed to drive the car on the interstate (she just got her lerner's permit). It's true, it does seem selfish to demand the right to drive where ever you want when first learning, and I was a little shocked to see a 15 year-old acting 2. We were going to a resturant (it was my last meal at home before going back to school), and she was so mad at mom for not letting her drive that she stormed into the restroom and stayed there. My mom just slumped over in her chair, looking so sad and so defeated. Finally, I walked into the bathroom and called my sisiter out of the stall. I told her I was sorry she was out of her medication, but the way she had acted was very out of line. The girl who emerged from the bathroom wasn't the girl I had heard hurling insults at Mom a few minutes earlier. She was just ashamed of the way she had acted, and frustrated that she wasn't able to contain it. It took me years to figure it out. I still get mad when that hateful spew begins, but now I understand it. Now I just cry thinking about my little sister living in the dark.
When I was 8 or 9 I wrote in my diary that I was afraid my mom and dad were going to get divorced. I remember running to my mom's room crying and asking her flat out- "Are you and dad going to get divorced?". I still remember her face- such surprise and sadness that I would think such a thought. "No Laura" she told me, "I don't want to leave your father, and as far as I know he doesn't want to leave me. Don't worry." I've seen my mother cry many times since that day.
I remember very clearly that summer day in early highschool. Dad was in England on a trip. I heard the basement door open, and saw the figure of my mom walk into the kitchen, but nothing about her was my mom. Now, when you live with and spend time around people, you can generally tell when something is going on with them. "Are you ok?" I asked. Right question, wrong time. Then my mom, who before that day never expressed her feelings, broke down on the floor, sobbing like her life would end. I was so shocked that I also burst into tears. She didn't say much. All she said was "Dad is looking at a job in England."
Children are never supposed to be supports for their parents, but I never knew that. At the time, my mom didn't know she was using me, and in recent years we have developed a much healthier and balanced relationship. I would never judge my mom for being honest with me, and I have forgiven her of any wrongs she may have done me. We have both learned a lot. My mom has lived in the dark for longer than I have been alive, and only recently has she been able to emerge and see herself and her life clearly. I admire her for her decision to get help and take control of herself for the first time.
Through-out my later highschool years I served as comfort to mother and sometimes sister, mediator, councilor, etc, etc... In that time I grew up. There was no time for anything else. Somehow, that little girl who knew nothing about pain and grief and relationships with family matured beyond her years. I don't say this to sound arrogant, though I am thankful for the knowledge I gained. I quickly realized the situation I was in, and what was wrong with it. I learned what things like patience, compassion, communication, servitude, and grace are. I loved more deeply than ever before, but I also hurt more than ever.
Fast-forward through the next few years. These are some scenes from my life you might be surprised by: Overheard late night conversations, midnight expeditions (I sleep over the garage door for pete's sake), false information never explained, and the observation of an unknowing friend resulting in my embarrassment and a dead end explanation.
But now, its all over. Mom and Dad are over. I guess i'll just "get over it", "move on", and continue to be treated like none of it happened to me- Like I am too ignorant in my youth to understand or handle the truth. So go ahead and assume its all about you. Until you can appoligize for those years of confusion and pain and acknowlege that you should have done the job that I was doing for you, I don't want to talk about it. I didn't want to play "head of the household" for my teen years, but I did because I love you. You see, all I want is to love you fully, but you have to let me. You can start with the mysteries, thats all I ask for- answers.
I'm sorry that the truth hurts. But I have to get rid of this poison before it kills the good in me. I only hope what I say now can be the beginning of something new and beautiful. That's all I want- answers. But thats not really what I want-
What I want is love. Love is built on trust.
April 02, 2006
An Observation...
Ya know, facebook is an evil yet ingenius creation. The more I think about it, the more I like it.
Because I'm curious (or maybe just plain creepy), I occasionally go to blogs/xangas/insert online journal name of old friends that I don't keep in touch with anymore. Creepy, yeah I know. But these people, who I am now friends with through "facebook" all post their sites online for everyone to see. Usually the people I read are the people that I always wanted to know better but, for whatever reason, never did. My guess is that the rest of the world has a life, and so I may be alone in my curiosity. But perhaps i'm wrong...
It makes me a little sad to think about all the friendships that I don't keep up any more. Sometimes I read a blog and find out that the person I used to know has completely changed. More than a few times i've learned that someone has become an alcoholic or a burnout, or has 1.5 kids, or has given up on school, etc, etc... Its really sad. Even though I don't know them anymore I feel kinda like i've lost them all over again. Then again, I wonder who of my highschool friends could have envisioned me attending a Christian college, majoring in religion, and considering seminary... Yeah... Life just changes people.
I guess the truth for me goes something like this: I regret only half knowing people, yet its impossible to have meaningful friendships with so many people.
The reason I'm dwelling on this is because I stumbled across the xanga of a friend from way back-in-the-day (Lord, I must be aging...), and saw that they were complaining about not having many close friends. I felt bad for them, but theres nothing I can easily say to them without sounding like a nut (we were never close).
When I first came to college I met this guy. We'll call him "Ed". Ed and I had a class together. He was a really interesting guy; smart, funny, friendly, you know, just a really nice guy. But I was kinda intimidated by him (probably 'cause he always had clever things to say). By "intimidated", I mean that I was really quiet around him and when I would talk I could never really say anything interesting. Still, being a nice guy, he kept talking to me, but eventaully he kinda stopped. Thus it became akward, and we eventually stopped acknowledging each other at all. To this day i'm not sure if we stopped talking because he gave up, or because I put off too much of an "uninterested" vibe. Maybe one day we'll figure it out. This is another example of what i'm talking about. I hate "almost" friendships, they just bug me. Yet, they are unavoidable...
Because I'm curious (or maybe just plain creepy), I occasionally go to blogs/xangas/insert online journal name of old friends that I don't keep in touch with anymore. Creepy, yeah I know. But these people, who I am now friends with through "facebook" all post their sites online for everyone to see. Usually the people I read are the people that I always wanted to know better but, for whatever reason, never did. My guess is that the rest of the world has a life, and so I may be alone in my curiosity. But perhaps i'm wrong...
It makes me a little sad to think about all the friendships that I don't keep up any more. Sometimes I read a blog and find out that the person I used to know has completely changed. More than a few times i've learned that someone has become an alcoholic or a burnout, or has 1.5 kids, or has given up on school, etc, etc... Its really sad. Even though I don't know them anymore I feel kinda like i've lost them all over again. Then again, I wonder who of my highschool friends could have envisioned me attending a Christian college, majoring in religion, and considering seminary... Yeah... Life just changes people.
I guess the truth for me goes something like this: I regret only half knowing people, yet its impossible to have meaningful friendships with so many people.
The reason I'm dwelling on this is because I stumbled across the xanga of a friend from way back-in-the-day (Lord, I must be aging...), and saw that they were complaining about not having many close friends. I felt bad for them, but theres nothing I can easily say to them without sounding like a nut (we were never close).
When I first came to college I met this guy. We'll call him "Ed". Ed and I had a class together. He was a really interesting guy; smart, funny, friendly, you know, just a really nice guy. But I was kinda intimidated by him (probably 'cause he always had clever things to say). By "intimidated", I mean that I was really quiet around him and when I would talk I could never really say anything interesting. Still, being a nice guy, he kept talking to me, but eventaully he kinda stopped. Thus it became akward, and we eventually stopped acknowledging each other at all. To this day i'm not sure if we stopped talking because he gave up, or because I put off too much of an "uninterested" vibe. Maybe one day we'll figure it out. This is another example of what i'm talking about. I hate "almost" friendships, they just bug me. Yet, they are unavoidable...
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