Little Love Story #1: "Skinny Jeans"

Once upon a time, a sad, slightly inebriated girl wandered around downtown Seattle. She felt as if she were lost in the crowd, not just because she'd gotten separated from her friends, but also because the subtle, insidious voice of depression whispered "No one knows you're gone. Just go back to the hotel, call it an early night. No one will miss you," until she started to believe it. Just as she decided to try and find her way back to her room, her phone rang. Someone did know that she was gone; someone did miss her. The voice guided her back toward where her friends were waiting. She was almost there when the boy to whom the voice belonged came around the corner. He swept her into a hug, held her close, and said "We're not gonna be sad. We're gonna have fun." And that is precisely what they did.

Still alive!

I've been neglecting this thing, half because I've been busy, and half because when I have time to write I'm so tired I know I won't write anything worthwhile. And today is no exception. Three days in a row I stayed up till 2 AM. Last night I conked out before midnight, only to be plagued by bad dreams. I guess I'm doomed to exhaustion.

I fly out to Phoenix next Friday to drive back with mama. I'm so excited!!! And stressed, because I have a week to find us a place to live. Doesn't help that my computer is out of commission, or that I've been crazy busy with other things to boot, or that I have no idea what I'm doing.

I've decided to expand this thing beyond just my random ramblings by setting some halfassed goals. My first goal: Little Love Stories. Each week, I'll try and post a very short story about love, partly because I think all too often love gets overlooked, overshadowed by the chaos of life, and also because I want to give examples of how love is in the little things. Some of them will be true, some of them will be (probably obviously) autobiographical, but not all of them will be either of those.

Alchemy, sorcery, and everyday magic.

Okay, so I can't quite turn lead into gold, control the weather, or transform into an animal. But then, I never tried to do any of those things.

I can, however, extract joy from darkness, spread sunshine on the dullest day, and find contentment in the simplest pleasures.

I can hear the wind sing of my loveliness. I can look at a coin and see a rose. I can find God in the strangest places.

I can't see the future, but I'm learning to stop looking. No good will ever come from wasting today worrying about a tomorrow that's 48 hours from being yesterday.

I can spend each moment at work on my heart, so that when I arrive at my unforseen destination, I will be ready for it.

And I can thank God that my destiny isn't limited to the scope of my finite mind.

"We all falter...but it doesn't matter."

You expect your parents to be mighty and infallible. They've been entrusted with all that you are and ever will be, and you NEED them not to fail.

But they fail anyhow, because they're only human. Inevitably, they do. Even the best parents with the best intentions, at one time or another, will err in their judgement and you will be wounded as a result. They'll be too harsh, or too lenient. Smothering, or inattentive. Too trusting, or too suspiscious. Whatever the circumstances, there comes a time in every child's life when they suffer because their parents made a wrong decision.

As a daughter, it was so hard to bear scars that could have been prevented had my mother only done something differently. It was a grudge I carried for years. I thought that the hardest part of growing up was forgiving your parents for all the ways they failed you.

No. The hardest part comes much later, when you have children of your own, and despite your best efforts, you fail them. The hardest part is forgiving yourself.

“The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise” - Alden Nowlan

"To be half of a whole?"

I am so lost, so broken, so alone.

One of the ladies at the women's meeting told me I needed to go through the stages of grief. I thought she was talking about Cadence. And maybe she was.

But it's not my cat that I need to grieve for. Or my last disastrous relationship.

It's me.

I'm what I've lost. I'm what I need to grieve for. I have to learn how to live when so much of me is dead.

I killed myself. A little bit at a time. I parceled myself out until...until how much is left? Not enough.

There's so much I can't get back. What do I do? Is there some way to grow anew? Or is this all that I'll ever be? This empty shell?

Marine, did I give you permission to bitch?

I try to keep a positive attitude. I try my ass off. (Okay, by the size of my ass it's obvious that isn't quite true, but work with me here.)

Stuff sucks right now. Not all stuff, but a lot of stuff.
* I'm dissatisfied with my living situation - I want more control over my own environment, more freedom to make my own choices.
* I have that slightly dizzy, foggy feeling caused by my meds. It could last for another six months. It's not dibilitating, but it's quite unpleasant.
* I miss my family, and every time our reunion plans get pushed back due to financial issues it's a little stab at my heart.
* I'm still in early recovery. I still struggle with spiritual issues, I still get cravings.
But still, I try to keep my head up.
And yes, sometimes I fail. Sometimes I lose my patience, get frustrated, bitch and complain.

I had a little revelation last night about how bad my attitude has been considering how good I've been treated. I was explaining that to a coworker - what an asshole I've been and how badly I felt as a result.

Then I got a text from a "friend" at work about what a bad friend and bad Christian I am for complaining about people. Except the text wasn't directed at me; it was directed at another "friend" - someone with whom I thought I was very close.

It's not just this betrayal that hurts, it's everything I've been fighting against for a week or so. The sleepless nights, the bad dreams, the stress...I've been in tears all day.

I'm human. I'm just as flawed and fragile as anyone else. I try to keep a smile on my face, but sometimes I'm a bitch. But just because I'm not moping around all the time doesn't mean that I'm not hurting.

It feels like a win to me.

I want a drink.

The craving hit around 6:30 this morning. I asked my body "When did you EVER get booze before 7 AM???" (Ridiculous sidenote: I've started talking to myself in a British accent. Just for the lulz.)

Honestly? It doesn't bother me. "This too shall pass." I know damn well I'm not gonna drink. It's not as if I ever believed that the cravings would go away entirely. The important thing is that it's not gonna beat me.

Sometimes I hurt, sometimes I cry, sometimes I lose my way at night, sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall, but I'm never gonna throw away it all.

Being a great big dork is what I love most about myself.

Stuff is happening. Good stuff. Changes for the better. I dig it.

I laughed more between 8 last night and 9 this morning than most people do all week. I have the most incredible and hilarious friends. When I am overwhelmed by life's myriad frustrations, they either help me find the lighter side, or they distract me entirely. They save me from my sorrow before it can swallow me whole. And I become a better person as a result.

I am zombie-tired today. I can barely comprehend human speech. I can't wait to sleep...in 7 hours...when my day is over...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz