Pep Talk

Self pep talk for an overcast December day:

You don't have any pressing tasks today -- Well, you're at work, but you took care of everything you had to do here, and now, if anything, you have to look like you are doing something productive and important. So quit going over in your head things that need to be done. Biggest thing you got to do when you get home? Wrap a couple of presents. Woahh, someone give that girl a Klondike bar.
Despite your critical looks in the mirror this morning, your eye make-up doesn't make you look stupid. It's not that smeared. You probably could have gone a little more natural and let up on the eye liner, but whatever. Who's looking at your eyes? The Fed-Ex guy doesn't care that you slapped on make-up or that your complexion is a little redder than normal today.
And who says you have to be merry just because it's Christmas? The Muppets and clay-mation characters don't count. It's not a holiday to be used as an excuse to walk on eggshells for other people so that you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You care about people, right? So show them. Do it in the name of the love Christ has filled you with, not in the name of a commercialized occasion.
And He does love you. You hardly have an idea who He is, but the fact that you haven't turned from faith all together speaks volumes. Part of you acknowledges that He is the only means of your recovery. And that's what this is. It's recovery. From an affliction that you have been able to suppress until now. You're in a rehab of sorts, so start acting that way. Let yourself heal.

Now quit blogging to yourself, ya crazy.

Sin and Cosine and going off on a Tangent

Since school has ended, I've been trying to fill my time with productive things, but I enjoy just laying around doing nothing so much more. And I'm finding myself okay with that for the most part. I normally flip out when I don't have anything productive to do, but my brain is on constant overload and really just wants guilt-free down time.
Huh. Guilt-free. I've been so guilt-ridden about things lately and it's making me want to hurl myself off a cliff (figuratively. I have a low pain tolerance). No matter what I do, I feel like I'm not meeting my own standards morally, financially, physically, mentally, what have you. I'm always trying to fix myself. Trying to hold on to inner peace before it slips away again. And my brain is not cooperating.
I even feel guilt sometimes about not being as close to God as I know I should be. But then, how close are we supposed to be to God? I mean, he's God. I guess we aren't always supposed to feel completely on the same wavelength as one who is all-powerful. But he is a personal God, too. So why do I always feel distanced from him?
What I need is prayer. And I don't mean my own intercessory prayers that make me feel as if I'm doing something wrong, or I'm not "praying the right way." There's no wrong way to pray, I get that, but lately I've felt like I've switched to AT&T's prayer line, and I'm sick of the dropped calls.
And then I feel like I'm taking it way too seriously. It's hard to know if you're taking eternity to seriously or not. It's not something you can learn from others who have experienced it about. For obvious reasons.
I guess what I really need is support. Spiritual support (and as long as we are talking about phone companies, I hope it's nothing like T-mobile's support).

So things are up and down and up and down and making me dizzy and sick and crazy and tired... I'm riding the sin and cosine waves, and the domain is (-∞, ∞). Oo, look who learned something in MA 112 this year..
But I kinda jipped that metaphor from It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, one of the three books I'm trying to read right now. So far it's really really good, though. Can't wait to finish it and watch the movie. And the story line pretty much goes along with what I'm going through.

And now, I still have no clue why I just spilled all of that out in a blog post, but there it is.

Sincerely,

Dani

Devestation and Reform

I've learned so much lately about life. These things just hit me like a ton of bricks, it seems.
First off, I can't even begin to explain the dynamics of my family because we'd be here for several hours, but I can say that the past's events left me with ill feelings toward my dad. Holding a grudge, they say, is harmful to the soul. But how can you forgive someone who doesn't even understand that they've hurt you? Like they filter out what they don't want to hear. What if that person is your father, and you can't just purge your life of him because he's bad for you. What's harder, in my case, is that all of this is unspoken. There is an elephant in the room, so to speak, every time we are in the same room. Neither of us speak of it.
But I've discovered an explanation for the way he is, and why he acts the way he does, and it is that he can't understand. He's not a cold-hearted person who can't see that he's pushing away the people that love him most in this world. He's simply incapable of making that connection. There are psychological labels for it, but I'm going to leave it at that. By coming to this realization, I am more willing to give him a chance. More willing to actually hang out with him. It's just kind of sad that that is all it will ever be. Hanging out. The role of a "father" is somewhat void in my life.
But that's where I let go of the past and look at what I have right now in the present moment. I have a Father that answers me. Like, seriously answers me. If you're turned off to this because it sounds cliche, I don't blame you, but know that I don't write hokey crap just because it sounds nice. I asked God to show me some things recently, and he immediantly gave me an answer that I could not attribute to anything but Him. I know that my healing, physically and emotionally, is going to only come from Him. I just have to learn that I can't control my own healing process. He's already planned it for me. Sucks for an uptight worrier like me, but I'm sure it won't suck for long.
I'll save some of the other things for another time. I'm supposed to be finishing an essay that is due in 45 minutes (that I've had all week to do). STUPID END OF THE SEMESTERR.


Cheers,
Dani

PS. What's new with all of you? Tell me about stuff.

Purple, Yellow, Rotting, Bruised

For as long as I could remember, the apples never looked very appetizing. I'm not sure they were ever really fit to eat. Maybe when the tree was young, maybe then my grandma would go outside and gather up the apples for a pie or something. I never asked her, though, so I'm not sure.
But for as long as I've been around, they have been rotten. Even the new ones still on the tree. I pick up a fallen apple and turn it over and over in my hands. Its skin is yellow and pale. And bruised. Painfully bruised. Some spots are soft and mushy, and others are compact as if there is a small rock underneath. The surface is broken in a few places, and its begun to dry out.
I look around and see that the other fallen apples are the same way. Tossing the apple aside, I sit under the shade of the tree in the lush, green grass. We don't have grass like this in my yard, or in any yards in our neighborhood for that matter. Leaning against the tree, I look around me. I see purple, yellow, rotting, bruised apples nestled in a carpet of green. I see my legs stretched out in front of me, craddled in the carpet of green next to purple, yellow, rotting, bruised apples.

I pull my legs in to my chest and begin to cry.