I am a sponge

I am a sponge...
I soak it all up.
I internalize everything; your hurt, your tears, your pain, your feelings, your "could be's"... I swear I feel it.

As your soundboard, I do as I am supposed to. I let you vent and expel. With every hit- I feel it. Your release is my weight. You often don't let me provide solutions, in fact you may even be insulted by them.

I take it on; soak it up. I swear I feel it. Not demeaning your situation; not taking away from what you feel or the uniqueness. But my Lord, recognize I feel it with you. My little babies; all 60 of them... I HATE what you endure. I soak it up. My friends, I cannot accept the loneliness or brokenness you bare. I soak it up. You tell me a story in passing. I soak it up. I read about the children and innocent women- people- dying in Haiti. I soak it up. I see the pain in the lady's eyes at the grocery. I soak it up. The young girl unable to look anyone in the eye. I soak it up. Every single time you critique me. I soak it up. The cyclical thoughts of my own mind... I soak them up.

And suddenly- I find myself overflowing. Excess flowing- streaming- everywhere. Unable to identify what exactly it is I'm feeling. Emotions overlap with no definitive lines. Lost in what's yours and what's mine; unable to identify or recognize the difference. Drawing conclusions without conclusiveness because I have inhabited your "weight." As I'm sure you are unaware...
So now what?
This isn't a pat on the back. This isn't a "job well done Mary"...... This is a true fault. This is thinking I'm supposed to solve all the problems, and quite frankly that's quite self-absorbed.
Also, a horrible attribute to carry around as a social worker; not conducive to clients.
So, uh yeah, now what??

So Little With Should-Be Innocent Eyes

As I watch their should-be innocent eyes dart and focus with brows intently narrowed and flexed; anger flows from them. Unspoken. But known.
Sometimes tears.
Sometimes tantrums.
Sometimes silence.

When mixed with the other kids, "church kids," we stand out. Either you pick on us or don't pick us. We don't have guitars for guitar lessons. We don't always have new clothes or shoes. We don't always do our homework.
We don't always come with sound minds. We don't always bring healed or whole hearts.
We are kids. Just like they are. We have stories too. Ours- may break your heart. Our eyes- reach into your soul and question your very presence on this earth. Our eyes convey our story, but don't let you into it. Our eyes tell you we are on guard; we are watching you.
You tell us Jesus loves us. But don't tell me where or how to find Him. You tell us He's always there. But I don't always feel Him... when I watch my mom cry and she's unable to get herself off the couch. I don't feel Him when I need my dad and he's not there. I don't feel Him when I'm always getting in trouble at school or blamed for things I didn't do.
I'm reaching out to you, even though you can't see it. I need you to show me.



Babies, my kidos, my loves,
You hold so much of my heart that I'm not even sure I can applicably find words to explain it. Your deep eyes are so hurt, yet eager. I want to hold you, love you until you don't feel an ounce of pain anymore. But I can't do that. You need a healing greater than me. When your beautiful, indescribable eyes are troubled and fill with tears, a torment renders itself in my heart. I want you to share your story. I want to take that story and extract all the good out of it; conveying your positive future and provide hope by explaining all your potential. I want to crumble all the aching pain and sorrow and confusion and unspeakable hurt and anger and discontent and unfulfillment. I want to crumble it. Shred it. Burn it. I want to adequately show you "the big picture" and for you to understand.
I want you to feel my love without questioning it. I want positive relationships for you now and forever.
I want to protect you.
I could stare at you for hours. Big eyes. Small hands. Infectious laugh. You are so special. Unique. Have so much to offer those around you- even now. Even as a kid.



General population... : Do you understand what this is? What this feels like. What they feel like? What I feel like? Can you grasp it? Can you claim it? Is it tangible to you? DO YOU WANT IT TO BE?

When I talk about it. When I write about it. When my thoughts merely touch on it. When I'm there. When I'm not there. When I picture their faces.... I feel an overwhelming amount of emotions and reactions. Pain, hope, love, hurt, anger, peace, serenity, discontent, awfulness, joy, laughter, eagerness, excitement, confusion, questioning, reflection of self, reflection of the world, reflection in general, prayer, seeking, crying- lots of crying and smiling. Questioning what "should be" and what "could be"... Questioning the mere definition of words, ...what is "pain" really? Questioning.... the mere definition of my life.
The list goes on....
There isn't enough tangibleness to adequately explain this as tangible.

Can I borrow your eyes?

After a long early morning/middle of the night convo with one of my best friends, my brother, a protector... One who has been there for it all.... A lot is on my mind.


I have started so many blogs in the last few months. So many positive ones. Wanting to write about being engaged. Having a ring around the right finger. About finally being loved the right way. About how my life is about to drastically change...
I now sit here... Lay here uncomfortably in my bed at 3:16am (Hmm interesting. Coincidence?...)


I am dwindling on thoughts of perspective. No matter how much we try. No matter how much I claim to constantly see from "the others" eyes... I am left reminded that as close to home as possible- literally in my home- I am failing to see outside my perspective. I am failing to be this "open minded" individual I claim to be. 


Brandon Heath says it, "Give me Your eyes for just one second. Give me Your eyes so I can see Everything that I've been missin. Give me Your love for humanity...."


Easier somehow when it applies to children in broken homes growing up in "the hood." 


But when it applies closer to home. I fail. In another pending "blog"... One in which I will likely never post, I am talking about "Letting it all go"... So, perhaps I should begin here.


You were there 
To see my eyes first
"Father hunger" 
Became father's thirst


Your instinct
Became your drive
Our hearts linked
The unspoken vow


Unintended
Became reality
Pretending
Not allowed to cope


Unprepared
Broken home again
Feeling scared
Crucified again


Rehashing
All those mistakes
Anger lashing
Spinning uncontrollably


Your daughter
How'd we get here?
Fought for her
But she's in the middle


Destruction
The fight whirled so fast
Corruption 
Now tears us apart


More trying
Seems to blame you more
Heart dying
Truth's fight getting lost


Our story
We know it well
The glory?
It comes here


I see me
Your eyes are clear
You I see
Through all the friction


Hearts intent
I should know it well
It became bent
Through life's walking hell


Hurtful tones
We know each other
Vision hones 
Into what we chose to see


Boundaries
Who knows what's right
Heart empties
It's overwhelming


For granted 
I haven't used your eyes
Implanted
Remained in mine


Know your love
I promise I feel it
Tried to shove
It's been so delicate


Here am I
Craving to visualize
Ready to comply
To what I know I see


Similar
Our eyes are so alike
Bitter for
What we can't control


You I know
More than I ever admit
Letting go
Of what we couldn't grasp


Goodbye past
Hello to what I know
Love so fast
Always ready and here


Never left
You have never let me go
Like a theft
We are trapped in our eyes


I know you
I know all the good
I know you
I know all your love

Ring Around the Right Finger

What I wasn't sure would actually happen... But had always hoped for anyways.
As much as "love" has been trashed in my world, it is now a reality and a present tense existence in my life. A ring sits, encircles the ring finer of my left hand. A beautiful, square diamond, white gold ring says he wants to love me like this forever. It says he wants to talk about it, not walk away. Says I want to be beside you the whole way. We are in this crazy ride together. Simple thoughts. Simple words even. But there is nothing simple about the word "forever." Not when it comes to the shortness of its meaning in this life, or the fullness of its meaning...
At a UK v UL basketball game. In the nose bleeds. With 300+ true fans watching. He went on one knee. He said I love you. We cried and hugged... For what seemed like 10 minutes. This is real.
This was followed by a standing ovation from strangers- mostly UK fans :)
This was more than I could have asked for.
I'm not sure he even asked "Will you marry me?" .... The question wasn't needed- rhetoric. Just like the answer was known. Fervently nodding "yes" was less than necessary. But it felt good.
I more than love Jamere Duran Walker. I more than like him. I more than appreciate him & I more than cherish him. I more than admire and I more want him beside me now. I want him a part of me forever. I want to grow with him. Not separate, but together.

Anticipation: Connnecting all the dots

I know, technically, all the dots will never expose their full connection. And quite frankly, there are events. moments. decisions. happenings. I never want to imagine, picture or recognize even in order to visualize their connection. Yeah. I'm good.

However. I can see it now. The connections. The webs. The webs that can only actually be seen when the light shines on them in the just the right way.

Mmmm. A smile creeps upon my face slightly. Slowly. And truly. Ahh! I feel it. The energy of the connections. My Father chuckling lightly, face beaming as He looks upon my face light with even the slightest epiphany. He must be relishing in my joy. After all He is the cause of it. He created it. His light has allotted me to visualize the web, to the best ( & only necessity-level ) of my human ability.

I. Have. A. Purpose. In fact my purpose is plural. And another web will be revealed later. Ya know, the thing is... I don't even care to ask for it- with one eye squinted, hoping like a child- a visual of the web. I don't ask Him for how it's connected. Or WHY I am experiencing this/that/the other.
I TRUST HIM.
Maybe it's because it is all falling together. It's easy not to ask questions: "why" & "when" in the presence of such peace and joy and presence of mind. When the highest of earthly love is raining...Reigning upon me with such abundance.

I am so happy. I am thrilled. Excited. Beyond hopeful. Peaceful. Joyful. Confident to a certain meager extent (hey, it's better than before). I KNOW where I am about to be taken... Ah, and man.. Dude. I am ready for this ride.

Redirected

Sometimes we... I advert my eyes. This is when I do not want to face what is right in front of me. I do this frequently.
Even if a part of me wants to look... I don't fully. I will face that direction. But with my eyes closed. Or turn my head the appropriate way, with eyes adverted- fixated on something else. Narrowed. Focused. Squinted on something- anything far away. Something that's in the background. A backdrop. That's often where true beauty lies.
Sometimes we... I use anger. Bitterness is easy to utilize. To get mad at the small things. Easily annoyed. Perturbed. Even easily offended. Use my defenses to defuse... Or to fuse.

But when what is right in front of me is not ignored. When the depth of the picture is viewed.... All else fades. The anger. The years of heartache. The tears. The disappointments. The words. The "abuse." Did I mention anger? The failures that had been framed and hung on the wall. The control. The manipulation.

What about the love? The forgiveness. The attempts. The misunderstandings. What about MY manipulations? What about my attention seeking.

It makes me sick... What is hurt projected as bitterness and anger I have used to victimize myself. When I want to "take on the guilt"... I throw around "Oh this is what I did wrong, BUT..." There is always a "but." Always a reason I was mean (no other word here). An excuse. Victimize. What about "villainize"??

Time to not bring it up. Time to see what is in front of me. No longer averting my eyes. He is sick. It gets worse daily. No one sees it like I do. No one bears it like I do. No one internalizes it like I do. No one is trapped in it like I am. Not victimization there. Facts. Take him for the ball of anxiety and hurt and anger and loneliness he is and love him. Nurture him like I would any child.

Why isn't this an easy concept to grasp? Is it because the way his eyes narrow when he's angry- as if to hone in only on me. To look down upon me without looking into me? Or it is the stories she has told me about him? Is it the way I have ultimately been allotted the "caregiver" role? It is the past, present, or future?
Is it my guilt? Is it that I have watched this process for years. Is it because I laid in my bed crying 5 times a week- morning and night- wondering if he was going to cough himself to death- literally. Or is it that I envy him for not eating. Am I angry because he doesn't want food? He is skinny and I will never be? Is it all the times he has talked over me? Is it how I don't set my cup down right? ..... Is it deeper? Is it all of this?

Am I sad? angry? confused? conflicted? Yes. But right now. I am sad. I am sorry. I am guilt-stricken. I am hurting. I am trying to swallow pride. And now I am going to pray.

Dead Week

There is nothing clever about this blog. No underlying meaning. No insightful parallels. No beautiful flow-etry of words... Just....

Oh no.
I'm avoiding school again. This time I am yearning to relish in my... happiness, joy, content, love. I want to just FEEL. I have shoved and stuffed feelings. I have ignored God's incessant tugging.
Now I'm feeling and it's what I want to feel. Floods of emotions overwhelm and warm me in this frigid winter season, in which is typically empty, searching, yearning, stress, and turmoil.
I am avoiding what I have solely focused on consistently without much fail for the last year and a half. I have one lurking looming B -that haunts and was poor judgement from my ignorant "teacher" (if he could be called that)- in that last 6 semesters.
This semester.... I am struggling even receiving a B in my my 4 credit hour research class. This brain- not made for research. I cannot force my group to do shit for my "practice" class.

Can I please just go help kids now?? Can I please get paid $25,000 a year with my BASW now?? Can I be a broke social worker wearing old clothes because I can't afford new ones (NOT because my lack of style!) and either gaining or losing a significant amount of weight from the exhausting and depleting myself of my energy and giving it to kids and families who need it??
Do I REALLY need to write a research proposal? Because I am absolutely lacking in passion for it! I am not passionate about numbers and percentages, even if it is conducive to my knowledge of " " subject. I am interested and passionate about stories. Do I REALLY need to construct a proposal for MACRO social work  and create a fake project/program?? Maybe? But I am out of drive for "fake" things.

I have never felt more real. I recognize and feel the interconnectedness all around me. In me. Through me. It uses me. I have never felt so content- thrilled really- to be used.

In 2 weeks:
* 25 page group paper & presentation on the create of our "program" & a 30 minute presentation to go with it.
* 15 page Advocacy project, which is fake bullshit, scrapping up whatever just for a grade because there is too much else whipping us in these grueling weeks
* An 10?? page research proposal (which is due in ohh 12 hours) in which I am completely utterly lost on how to methodically complete...Hmm, or begin for that matter. Again- lack of passion.
* A pre-final essay expressing my "knowledge on the PREPARE & IMAGINE papers (on each subject we have written/going to write 30 pages on... condense this how?)
* 3 "small" assignments to wrap up research & macro practive
* Take home final
* 3 in class finals... 2 of which are comprehensive... Ummm please remind me of what I am supposed to have comprehended??? Because I sure as hell don't know.

Papers and presentation due during DEAD WEEK... Whatever that means. And then papers and presentations the week OF finals week. hahaha.

Perfectionism.... Haunting me, but lacking the motivation to it fuel it. It is DEAD. My brain, still here. Still in tack. Still ever viciously churning. But part of it is ASLEEP. My drive. Oh it is there. Ever present. Pushing me. But it is not concerned with season of falsity. Falsity being the lack of application or tangible practice occurring with this school stuff. I want to keep my GPA at a 3.97. I would love to raise it to a 3.99. I will cry when I get a B this semester. I will beat myself up and say why did I put this off, or why didn't I try harder. Or what is wrong with my dumb brain. I may act like a child and pout and stomp around. But in the grand scheme... I have grown a lot this semester. This dead week will not be the death of me.

I will pray. I will seek. I will stop letting my mind drift and wonder with beautiful distractions. Perhaps the healthiest distractions I have ever encountered. No. for this last week- 7 days- 168 hours. I am going to focus on the tasks at hand. One at a time. Praying in between and during.
BLAH
No more complaining. It fuels the negativity and apathy. I cannot risk instillation of more apathy.
No more getting lost in that mental Bermuda triangle in my head.

NEED: Everyone to prettttyyyy much leave me alone for the next 168 hours. I wanna help and listen and be there. But I need to focus. I need to not talk and complain and vent. Venting is not always healthy. Need to go to my bubble. Put on my headphone and tune out- zone out. I am actually incredibly great at that. I can use my old negative coping mechanism as a positive current utilization of skill. The skill to zone out and disappear into my own.
NEED: My boyfriend to love me through this time of ugliness (physically & personality wise).
NEED: Pray & believe
NEED: Supernatural motivation. Supernatural intervention of time. Supernatural peace. Supernatural intervention. And supernatural belief that I can do this with Him
NEED: Get through these next 168 hours.