A Christmas Past….

This may be a direct from Fifty Shades of Grey knockoff, but an Ipod with music fully loaded on it is by far the best gift ever.

Granted, the mix tape came way before the ipod, but forgive me if it’s the first cultural reference that comes to mind.

Its funny, this music used to mean something to me. I mean, it still means things to me, but it doesn’t quite feel the same way it used to. The lyrics don’t crawl over my skin, they don’t pierce my heart, they just float overheard and I watch them pass by.

I used to believe that I needed a man to complete something, Maybe it was years of romantic comedy brainwashing, maybe it was a desire to complete my memory of an incomplete childhood with an incomplete family.

But I just don’t believe that anymore. I’m not a kid anymore. It feels like not believing in Santa Clause.

And let this please be very distinct from finding out Santa Claus is not real….That already happened. Sad to say, it went by undocumented, because I do not recall the specific moment I stopped believing a man would complete something. I just know that I do not believe this anymore.

I do however, believe that a man adds something. But to suggest complete, would suggest I am incomplete. And that is not true.

I am not there yet. And I do not yet wish to be added to. One day I will. But not today and not tomorrow and just…not yet.

I do still believe in a Great Big Love. And I also like to believe in a Love That Lasts. But the second one must stand the test of Time and while its nice to believe in it there is no way to test this theory for sure. Only Time can test it. Pity.

But the Great Big Love I mentioned…yes, I do still believe that is real. I’m losing faith in the idea that this may be a man…I certainly hope it is, but I am young and that is what this young girl knows what to hope for. I can feel it in my gut sometimes, its knotted and twisted and growing in there…and I know I am not ready for it yet. But by God, it sure as fuck is scary to know its coming.

Christmas inevitably gets you thinking about New Years, and with that comes the even more inevitable Resolutions.  I was making this list in my journal about the person who I want to grow to become and later has this epiphany that the list was entirely composed of my “perfect” version of myself. Except that this kind of perfection demands a rigidity that breaks me and ultimately this is why I always fail myself, because I cannot live within rigid lines. I am a flexible girl.

I need flexible rules. I need places and spaces to make up the missed time and turn in some extra credit.

The person I want to grow into is a person who lives in the light. I want to emit the light. I want to live from a place of joy and I need to construct a life that centers around this feeling of joy and not a life that centers around a concept of perfection that leaves me unhappy and worse, empty, when I do manage to briefly attain it.

My set point is perfection. Its where I run to when I want to “fix” my unhappiness. But its wrong. I need to run towards happiness. I need to indulge in the things that truly make me happy. The things that set me free.

Instead of forcing myself to live within suffocating rules, I would like to construct a life that lets me dance. A lot. That lets me have fun. A lot. I want this life. I cant think of anything I want more for 2015. Another year of the perpetual dance party.

No giving in to the sound of perfection calling. She conference calls with anxiety. They run in a pack, those two.





That spiritual stuff….

When I was a teenager, I used to pray to God every night. I would lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and just talk to God. I have always felt comfortable doing this, mostly because I grew up in a Christian school and God was always there. Granted, the school was filled with judgement and hypocrisy and many other ludricrous things, but God was still there. A church is still a place of worship and I firmly believe that one can find God there.

I think my faith in God and my prayers were what got me through those tumultuous turmoil-filled years. All the pain and suffering, and the salty tears and bleeding. The tears have dried and the scars have long since faded, and still I stand before you, a survivor.

I spent an entire summer praying for a best friend, begging God to send someone to me that understood me and would stand by me. I needed someone to have faith in me because the world was so lonely to me. It was back then and it still is now. He sent me a best friend. She is still my best friend. She knows me inside and out, upside and down, in the midst of all of my topsy turvy-ness. She is one of the few that has always been able to see my clearly and can always tell me what will happen next in my life, even when it covered with so much fog and when it feels it is fading away.

I spent the next summer praying for Love, for that Big Kind of Love. I wanted a first love that was magical, a love that could heal me and surprise me and take me someplace far away. I just let go of that man this summer, of that first love. I got that Big Love. And it lasted for an equally good and bad five years. I will always love him. I didnt ask God for a loveR that would stay in my life forever, but for a love that would. And I got it.

And for both, I am eternally grateful.

But somewhere along the course of my life, I stopped praying. Tragedy after tragedy struck and they piled upon me like concrete rubble until I couldnt breathe anymore. Somewhere along the way I lost my faith. In both God and in myself. But I suppose they are both the same thing.

I rediscovered my spirituality in India and reawakened my faith in God, but after all those years without a word between us, I was too ashamed to ask him back into my life. I mean, who goes years without a phone call to someone they call their friend? I acknowledged his presence, but I had too much pride to pick up the phone and pray.

Until one night when I knew I was going to die. So I dialed the number.

And thank God, he picked up.

I will never forget that night. Its documented in a journal somewhere, buried away under pages and pages of grief and misery. I looked in the mirror and knew that the skeletal sick girl staring back at me didnt have much time left. I had to do something. I had to get help. There was no other option. And so I asked God for the only thing I could think of, the only thing I really needed.

Please make it stop because I cant live another year like this. Please help me quit this because I cant be this person anymore. I’m going to die. And I dont always want to be alive, but I REALLY dont want to die like this.

And that was the night I gave up drugs.

But even after he swooped down and saved me, picked me up from the mess that I was and gave me the strength to go on and face everything that was weighing me down, I was still too ashamed to begin mending our relationship. I found a fleeting inner peace while I was in therapy. But the stillness I had found evaporated when I headed back into reality, the only reality I have ever known, and in its place, my inner chaos resumed.

I fought it. I found a way to feed it. I placated it.

But this summer it all boiled over. My therapist scolded me, told me I wasnt maintaining my state of peace. He told me it was like going to church and every week I needed to pray. He didnt mean it literally, but it all kinda clicked a few days ago.

I needed to pray. I need to ask help from the one sure standing person who has always been there. And so every day I pray. Multiple times a day, I pray. I pray for what I need, I pray for my friends, I pray for everything.

And thank God, I have found some peace inside.

I pray for God to help me find my way, but please dont tell me where it is I am going until I get there. I am a planner and a packer. I will plan my emotional course and then pack my emotions into a duffel bag until I get there. No room for souvenirs or surprises.

I pray for God to help me make good decisions. And when I dont know what the good one is, dear God, please just dont let me make the bad one.

And mostly, I pray to God to help me take deep breaths.

Because more than anything else, I need help staying calm.

Whenever I feel lonely, I just start to pray. And it works. And the thing is, the rest doesnt really matter.