I go to eleven.

I posted this on twitter Friday night:
"Every gift can be a curse. My greatest asset is also my gravest weakness. As with all things, serenity lies in finding the balance."
Nevermind what I was talking about. I'm not applying that to something else.
In 2008 I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Before I had a diagnosis, I had two ways of explaining "what's wrong with me" and they're both from movies because that's how I roll.
1. My emotions go to eleven.
2. I feel everything. I can't not.
It all pretty much the same thing. Before I learned to control my emotions, I had two states - emotional overdrive and emotional exhaustion. Whatever I felt, I felt it intensely; eventually I would burn out and not feel much of anything until I recharged.
Thanks to Dialectical Behavior Therapy, I'm better. But I'm not cured. This is me. Which brings me to my next point:
It's not entirely bad.
I'm having a rough patch right now, going through more emotionally than I have since the beginning of the end of my marriage. The difference is, it almost killed me then.
There's almost a kind of beauty to it. To feeling so much at once. To being able to laugh genuinely even with the deep ache inside me.
Hurting so intensely might be a worthy price to pay. I get to hope so fervently, to laugh so warmly, to love so passionately. It's a gift.

Friendship, future, and Frost.

A friend reached out to me last night. He said he wished time could stop; he's afraid of the loss that comes with growth and change. He sent me this:
"I always knew looking back on my tears would bring me laughter, buit I never knew looking back on my laughter would make me cry." (Cat Stevens)
Part of being emotionally overcharged like I am is my tendency to feel so many things at once. It's not uncommon for me to be laughing and having a great time, while hurting on the inside because I know that the good time will inevitably end.
Everything ends. Even the best of friends can eventually drift apart. Sometimes they reconnect but sometimes they don't.
Robert Frost said "So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay." And it's true. But there's another sunrise waiting. Our paths may carry us away from what we know and love, but each step carries us toward new and amazing opportunities to laugh, live, and love.

Back from the edge.

I'm me again.

The lie was a lie, and I somehow found the truth behind it. I don't need a mask after all.

I DO love myself. I love myself, because I am loved, and because I love my friends and family and God. They all love me, so I must be worth it. I had lost sight of that.

the big fake

I always stress the importance of honesty. I want everything in my life to be built on love and truth.

Fun fact: I'm a liar too. My entire persona is built upon a foundation I don't actually believe. I've simply sold that lie so successfully that I, too, have come to believe it.

Or had, as the case may be.

In a sudden burst of vulnerability, I slipped that mask off. It was not the best idea ever.

I don't know if it mattered to the person I told. Unfortunately, it mattered immensely to me. Having admitted that I've been lying to myself, I no longer believe that lie, and can no longer fake it as successfully. The mask just doesn't fit right.

This is an odd week for me. Next week will be so busy that I'll be dragged kicking and screaming from the confines of my own head, and by the time I get back in there, the dust should have settled.

Warning: uncaffeinated thoughts ahead.

I just woke up. Be afraid.

Occasionally, I find it difficult to be at home. I'm in that mode now. Yesterday, I had an adventurous trip to Wichita followed by an evening with my "family" here in Hesston. It was amazing and I felt fantastic - very much my usual self.

I woke up this morning feeling lonely. This is strange. I never wake up lonely. I'm not remotely a morning person. One of the problems with the last guy I dated was not that he wanted to spend the night, but that he wanted to still be here when I got up.

I blame the transitionary state of my life. (Thank you firefox, I see "transitionary" is not a word. I'm using it anyway.) I'm in the process of losing loved ones. I suck at it. For a brief period I was able to cherish the extra time, but now it feels like I'm living with bated breath and I keep thinking "When I die, I hope it's sudden so my loved ones don't suffer like this."

Starting my own business has me thinking about the future, and it's making me dizzy. I can't stay here forever. This town, this job - I feel like they're just waiting for me to outgrow them. I'm terrified that I'm getting too comfortable here, that I'm forgetting that I can't live like this forever. It's difficult to imagine leaving when I've spent the best part of my life here.

At the risk of being cliché, I was born here. Rather, reborn. Everything I have become is the product of the experiences I've had in this little town. Which means I'll have to grow up all over again when I leave.

Behold my lack of coherency.

Rallying.

I learned about rallying because my cat did it.

My Simba. My baby of 15 years. Dying of lymphoma. One day he's almost gone, then suddenly, he's more himself than he's been in over a month.

He's rallying, they tell me. The dying get a sudden burst of life near the end. Once his rally runs out, it'll all go very quickly.

People do that, too.

My friend came to visit today. Unexpected. She's felt really well the last couple of days. As a doctor's wife, she knows all too well what that means.

That strength, that phenomenal strength I last saw, is failing her. She came to me with tears in her eyes. "This is so hard," she said, and held out her arms. She held me so tight, telling me over and over that she loves me, thanking me for all I've done - for her, her daughter, her family. Praising my kindness. Telling me what a gift I am. Somewhere inside me there was strength to hold back the flood. I kept my tears from spilling over as I told her I love her, that she's family to me.

I want to always remember how soft her hair was, from those times she asked me to "screw her head back on" and I did, from hugging her today.

I want to remember every kind word she's ever spoken about me - and there are so many! She has always praised my strength, my kindness, my cheerfulness, my helpfulness.

Dear God, please help me to always be the person she believes I am. Amen.

Your entire world can change in an instant.

My friend is dying. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few weeks ago. Less than 5% of patients with that diagnosis survive the first year, and hers is quite advanced. She has refused treatment - there is so little they can do, and it would make her feel worse than she does now.

It is entirely unfair. She is an angel - I have never seen her anything but cheerful and loving. In her spare time she holds bible study meetings at the women's prison. When I moved out on my own she continually praised my strength - for living on my own, for being so far from my family, for leaving my life behind and starting a new one in a strange place. She once made blueberry muffins for me just because her niece told her they were my favorite. I can't imagine anyone less deserving of something so awful.

She came to visit. She hugged me tight and said "I guess you've heard some rumors about me." I said I had and she said "Well I'm sorry to say they're true. I wish they weren't, but they are." It was all I could do not to cry. I said "You know, we've all talked about it, and we decided you're pretty much the best woman we've ever met," and she just touched my face and called me ornery. This is just her way - she's dying and her concern is comforting others.