She tells everyone a story, because she feels her life is boring, and she fights so you won't ignore her, because that's her biggest fear, and she cries, but you'll rarely see her do it. She loves, but she's scared to use it. So she hides behind the music, cause she likes it that way. She knows, She's so much more than worthless, she needs to find the surface, because she's starting to get nervous.
She's calling out to you, this is a call; this is a call out, ' Cause every time I fall down, I reach out to you, and I'm losing all control now, and my hazard signs are all out, I'm asking you, to show me what this life is all about.
What am I best at? I really feel like I have come down to one final answer: I am best at hiding. I am so damn good at running and hiding. I do it to everyone, whether they know it or not. So many people think they know me, but how can they know me when I have no freaking clue who I am? I keep promising myself so much, and I keep promising God these things too. But, does it work? Never. I am a liar. I always say I want to change my life, I want to live fully for God, I want to be His warrior, I want to find out who I am and who God is. But then I run away with my tail in between my legs. I hide, because I feel like it is easier. In my mind, hiding is easier than facing the truth.
Here is the truth: I am fake. I am a liar. I am a coward. I pretend to be myself, to be genuine, and legit. But I am not. I lie and pretend to be who people want to see. I put on a mask of sarcasm and crass remarks. I give people an excuse to reject me. If any of you really know me, you know that everything I say is dripping with disdain and sarcasm. The reason behind this is, if someone doesn't like me, I know why. I feel less rejected. In my mind it is okay that they don't like me, because I am a bitch whom only some people can handle. I have lived the life of a lie for 19 years, and I know how many people there are out there who have been living their lives this way for so much longer. I do not know how they can do it, and sometimes I feel like I have no voice. I feel like I am screaming for someone to notice how unhappy I am. I don't know how to just tell people, "Hey, I am not happy with living." It is sad that the only way I can do it is behind a computer screen, because I fear seeing people's reactions.
I feel like people always expect me to be happy. I know that they don't, but that is the way I feel. As I write this, I can't even let myself cry about this, because I am afraid someone will unexpectedly come over or my roommate will come home early. How can I possibly be happy about the life I am living?!
I am always telling others what to do to make things better in their life, to fix the relationship they have with others or sometimes even with God. But, I am never able to listen to my own advice. I am also always telling others how beautiful it is to be broken, but I sit here still unable to truly allow myself to be broken, because I fear being weak. I was raped about 9 months ago, and I have only cried over it once, and when that happened I was ashamed and embarrassed. I have even seen the guy a couple of times since it happened, but I still manage to convince myself that I cannot be weak. I tell myself that I cannot fall apart because there will be no one to pick me up. I am always trying so many things to make things better with God, like fasting or trying to have alone time. But, those are all focused on me. I realized I am committing idolatry. I am putting myself above God. I am relying on myself and only me to get through everyday. I am a freaking hypocrtical jerk face.
What the hell am I doing with my life? Why am I wasting my time? All I keep telling myself is, "God will keep waiting for me. He will be patient and still love me." This is true and all, but I am giving myself excuses to run and hide from him. I am telling myself it is okay to ignore God because He will still love me in the end.
I am collapsing. I am slowly giving up and deteriorating. I am dying. If I don't do something soon, I know things will get bad for me. I deal with my pain in bad ways, and I am so scared that I won't be able to control myself, and I will fall back into old habits. I keep making jokes, about how I am going to kill myself or cut myself, and people just think it is me being over dramatic and dumb, but what they don't see is that I am begging them to help me. To see that I am dying....
"She fools all of her friends into thinking she's so strong, but she still sleeps with the light on, and she acts like it's all right, as she smiles again....."
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Lord, Prepare Me....
This is it. In approximately 6 hours, myself and 4 others are hitting the road for Washington, D.C. For those of you who were on the edge of your seats wondering if God would provide, He did. I didn't get to sell my futon, but there is no need to go into specifics about how the money was obtained.
Some people may be wondering, "What the heck are you doing up at 4:40 in the morning?" Let me tell you, when I am excited about something, there is no sleeping the night before. And if there is sleeping, it is rough sleep and I usually end up exhausted and exasperated. What happens is, I will attempt sleep, but then my mind will begin to race and then with everything I think of, I usually bring on a minor panic attack. So, it is usually best to avoid this.
So, I write. It releases a lot of the ajdshafkjasdfkjh-ness I feel. I can't really say what I will expect, or what is going to happen, and most of you won't find out until late Wednesday evening.
I feel like this may be bigger than I think, like this may be a turning point in my life. I bought a new journal today, much different from one I have ever owned. I always go for simplicity, a journal with paper in it is good enough for me. But, this one is fancy shmancy. It has an elastic band to hold it closed, a protective covering, spirals inside the covering, and a ribbon to help me keep my place. Some may think, "Why is this journal significant?" Prepare yourselves for the cock and bull I believe.
I feel like, at least to me, the journal you own and use says a lot about you and your character. First of all, this is a brand new journal. Crisp pages which have yet to be tainted with ink. There are yet to be words, complaints, ideas, thoughts. Raw emotions are yet to pour out on these pages. A blank canvas if you will, waiting for me to paint a picture of my life with words. So, to me, I feel like it is a new section of my life. I can't just start a journal with, So the other day I was thinking.... No, it must be of sincere importance. And how perfect is it that I obtain this new journal the day before I live for Washington, D.C. in attempts to stop an ongoing war in a country not my own.
So, it clicks to me, a theme for this journal, and maybe even a theme for my life. Why do I care about the war in Uganda? I don't live there. Because, I have a heart. Maybe this part of my life is learning what breaks my heart, and how to act on those things that break me so. All the time in the world of christianity, and maybe even outside of it, we are asked that cliche question, "What breaks your heart." And we pinpoint certain things that tear us down inside, that yank on those strings of your heart and make your eyes well up with just the thought of it. Teens who cut, suicide, alcoholics, The War on Terror, people who don't know God. Yeah, this is all great, and it breaks many people's hearts, but what do we do about it?
I am not saying that if something breaks your heart, you alone should organize some protest or event in the name of this cause. But, if something truly does break our heart, how can we just sit back and watch it happen? And you can tell me, "There are so many causes out there. What makes you think you can do anything about yours?" This logic is about the same as saying, "Why even bother? Sit back and let it happen." I cannot do that. My heart is breaking, therefore I want to stop mine and others hearts from continuing on like this.
So what? Maybe I am not big enough or important enough to do something, to fix something.
I have come down to this mindset for D.C. Will the bill pass? I honestly do not know. Is it worth the fight? Heck freaking yes.
Keep me in your prayers and thoughts as I lobby the congressmen of Ohio to do what is right.
And to say adios, below is a bumper sticker from Facebook that I received from my friend Sarah. Enjoy.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Some people may be wondering, "What the heck are you doing up at 4:40 in the morning?" Let me tell you, when I am excited about something, there is no sleeping the night before. And if there is sleeping, it is rough sleep and I usually end up exhausted and exasperated. What happens is, I will attempt sleep, but then my mind will begin to race and then with everything I think of, I usually bring on a minor panic attack. So, it is usually best to avoid this.
So, I write. It releases a lot of the ajdshafkjasdfkjh-ness I feel. I can't really say what I will expect, or what is going to happen, and most of you won't find out until late Wednesday evening.
I feel like this may be bigger than I think, like this may be a turning point in my life. I bought a new journal today, much different from one I have ever owned. I always go for simplicity, a journal with paper in it is good enough for me. But, this one is fancy shmancy. It has an elastic band to hold it closed, a protective covering, spirals inside the covering, and a ribbon to help me keep my place. Some may think, "Why is this journal significant?" Prepare yourselves for the cock and bull I believe.
I feel like, at least to me, the journal you own and use says a lot about you and your character. First of all, this is a brand new journal. Crisp pages which have yet to be tainted with ink. There are yet to be words, complaints, ideas, thoughts. Raw emotions are yet to pour out on these pages. A blank canvas if you will, waiting for me to paint a picture of my life with words. So, to me, I feel like it is a new section of my life. I can't just start a journal with, So the other day I was thinking.... No, it must be of sincere importance. And how perfect is it that I obtain this new journal the day before I live for Washington, D.C. in attempts to stop an ongoing war in a country not my own.
So, it clicks to me, a theme for this journal, and maybe even a theme for my life. Why do I care about the war in Uganda? I don't live there. Because, I have a heart. Maybe this part of my life is learning what breaks my heart, and how to act on those things that break me so. All the time in the world of christianity, and maybe even outside of it, we are asked that cliche question, "What breaks your heart." And we pinpoint certain things that tear us down inside, that yank on those strings of your heart and make your eyes well up with just the thought of it. Teens who cut, suicide, alcoholics, The War on Terror, people who don't know God. Yeah, this is all great, and it breaks many people's hearts, but what do we do about it?
I am not saying that if something breaks your heart, you alone should organize some protest or event in the name of this cause. But, if something truly does break our heart, how can we just sit back and watch it happen? And you can tell me, "There are so many causes out there. What makes you think you can do anything about yours?" This logic is about the same as saying, "Why even bother? Sit back and let it happen." I cannot do that. My heart is breaking, therefore I want to stop mine and others hearts from continuing on like this.
So what? Maybe I am not big enough or important enough to do something, to fix something.
I have come down to this mindset for D.C. Will the bill pass? I honestly do not know. Is it worth the fight? Heck freaking yes.
Keep me in your prayers and thoughts as I lobby the congressmen of Ohio to do what is right.
And to say adios, below is a bumper sticker from Facebook that I received from my friend Sarah. Enjoy.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Friday, June 19, 2009
Jesus Paid It All.....
Sometimes it takes something huge, like maybe God breaking your heart, for everything to fall into place. And trust me, sometimes it is annoyingly frustrating, and we fall apart, and we get angry, and we want to give up.
Things are absurd in my life. I need to get used to craziness, though. So, God is still telling me I am supposed to go to Washington, D.C. I have 2 days to get some money, and no one wants to buy my futon. So, I am like wtf, mate? Of course, if it is really meant for me to go He will provide. So, I am holding on to any ounce of hope I have. I wish it was later on in the summer, because in July I am getting a $3000 refund check, so I could pay for it then. But for now, I am praying for something to work out. It gets tough, you know?
So, then the past 2 days were absolutely horrid. But last night completely made up for it. So, I just have felt out of it. Nothing seemed to make it okay, not even great nights in Findlay with some pretty sweet people and amazing Indian food. It just all felt so adjfdasfldsajf. And that may be weird, but I know most people know exactly the feeling I am trying to explain, so get over it. kthanks. :)
So, yesterday, my boyfriend and I broke up. Yes, it was not good. My heart was absolutely crushed, but things with us just weren't right, and both of us knew it. We had a hefty discussion about what it meant to really be christian, and in the end we realized we were two different people going two different ways. And that was it. The end of my first real relationship. The first guy I had ever fallen in love with had just vanished from my life, walked away with his backpack and his iPhone.
Ouch. I was crushed. I felt as though my entire life had just been stomped on. So, I was walking home, having left a cookout with FREE FOOD early. I couldn't deal with it. The entire walk home I held back the tears, for the most part. I ran into a friend, Andrew, and when he hugged me I kind of cried on his shoulder momentarily. So, here I was, alone. And I hear God say, "Open your eyes". WHAT THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE HERE GOD?!?!?
I get home to a good friend, Beth, who just lets me cry on her couch even though she is as sick as a dog. By the way, I never really got that metaphor. What was it that made the dog sick? Did he eat something weird or are all dogs naturally sick like that? Ooops.... sidetracked, much? :P
I decide that I am going to go to a cool girls house, Angela. She has brownies, friends, and Wall-E. I head over and hang, still feeling so sakjddshfldskf. I leave, and get back to my apartment and get online and watch some rent. I send him a message, because I am so controlling and I need to feel like I've had the last word. An hour and a half later, there is a knock on my door. It is him. My heart begins to beat so fast, I am so scared. Here he is, the guy that has my heart in his hands, not quite like God does, but still scary. We sit on my bench, a bench that sits outside of the apartment complex, which I have grown to love. This bench holds so many memories that are so dear to me.
He tells me he hasn't been able to sleep, because he walked away from God. To shorten this up, because honestly it is an amazing story but it is soooo not my story to tell, Alex believed. For the first time he said the words, "Jesus came, died, and rose for me, because God loves me" and he believed it. I was so happy for him! We sat on the bench for some time singing random worships songs, and just laughing at how amazing God is! We rejoiced in our salvation and just loved God and let Him love us back. God was sitting right there at that picnic bench with us, smiling saying something along the lines of, "Awes."
The night was full of beauty and magic, and God had kissed the ground we walked on as if to compliment us in the decision we had made. God reached out His hand and covered us in Him and His love. I was giddy with joy and there was nothing bringing me down from the cloud I was, the cloud that seated my God on His thrown, the thrown that I choose to kneel at because of my love for my Father.
It has poured out into today. It was a frustrating day, because so many people are offering to buy my futon, but for cheaper than it is worth. I need that oney for D.C. God says, "I will provide." I am waiting patiently for the provision. I know that this is where I need Gods help.
So, while I am dealing with God, I just ask for prayers, and for God to provide. I know He will.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Things are absurd in my life. I need to get used to craziness, though. So, God is still telling me I am supposed to go to Washington, D.C. I have 2 days to get some money, and no one wants to buy my futon. So, I am like wtf, mate? Of course, if it is really meant for me to go He will provide. So, I am holding on to any ounce of hope I have. I wish it was later on in the summer, because in July I am getting a $3000 refund check, so I could pay for it then. But for now, I am praying for something to work out. It gets tough, you know?
So, then the past 2 days were absolutely horrid. But last night completely made up for it. So, I just have felt out of it. Nothing seemed to make it okay, not even great nights in Findlay with some pretty sweet people and amazing Indian food. It just all felt so adjfdasfldsajf. And that may be weird, but I know most people know exactly the feeling I am trying to explain, so get over it. kthanks. :)
So, yesterday, my boyfriend and I broke up. Yes, it was not good. My heart was absolutely crushed, but things with us just weren't right, and both of us knew it. We had a hefty discussion about what it meant to really be christian, and in the end we realized we were two different people going two different ways. And that was it. The end of my first real relationship. The first guy I had ever fallen in love with had just vanished from my life, walked away with his backpack and his iPhone.
Ouch. I was crushed. I felt as though my entire life had just been stomped on. So, I was walking home, having left a cookout with FREE FOOD early. I couldn't deal with it. The entire walk home I held back the tears, for the most part. I ran into a friend, Andrew, and when he hugged me I kind of cried on his shoulder momentarily. So, here I was, alone. And I hear God say, "Open your eyes". WHAT THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE HERE GOD?!?!?
I get home to a good friend, Beth, who just lets me cry on her couch even though she is as sick as a dog. By the way, I never really got that metaphor. What was it that made the dog sick? Did he eat something weird or are all dogs naturally sick like that? Ooops.... sidetracked, much? :P
I decide that I am going to go to a cool girls house, Angela. She has brownies, friends, and Wall-E. I head over and hang, still feeling so sakjddshfldskf. I leave, and get back to my apartment and get online and watch some rent. I send him a message, because I am so controlling and I need to feel like I've had the last word. An hour and a half later, there is a knock on my door. It is him. My heart begins to beat so fast, I am so scared. Here he is, the guy that has my heart in his hands, not quite like God does, but still scary. We sit on my bench, a bench that sits outside of the apartment complex, which I have grown to love. This bench holds so many memories that are so dear to me.
He tells me he hasn't been able to sleep, because he walked away from God. To shorten this up, because honestly it is an amazing story but it is soooo not my story to tell, Alex believed. For the first time he said the words, "Jesus came, died, and rose for me, because God loves me" and he believed it. I was so happy for him! We sat on the bench for some time singing random worships songs, and just laughing at how amazing God is! We rejoiced in our salvation and just loved God and let Him love us back. God was sitting right there at that picnic bench with us, smiling saying something along the lines of, "Awes."
The night was full of beauty and magic, and God had kissed the ground we walked on as if to compliment us in the decision we had made. God reached out His hand and covered us in Him and His love. I was giddy with joy and there was nothing bringing me down from the cloud I was, the cloud that seated my God on His thrown, the thrown that I choose to kneel at because of my love for my Father.
It has poured out into today. It was a frustrating day, because so many people are offering to buy my futon, but for cheaper than it is worth. I need that oney for D.C. God says, "I will provide." I am waiting patiently for the provision. I know that this is where I need Gods help.
So, while I am dealing with God, I just ask for prayers, and for God to provide. I know He will.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
You're running free....
Cause you're coming home You're running free As only you would be if you never owed them anything And now you found you're way out In the trust you've seen your path on home
Obviously, music is important to me, with the amount of times I have posted lyrics in my blog to explain how I feel.
I am listening to and following the requests of my heart. I am doing what God tells me to do, even if I am afraid. I am going to Washington, D.C. Capitol Hill.
I still find myself asking what God wants of me. Today was a big day for me. This week was a big week for me. Let's begin with my birthday. Good morning sunshine. At 10:30 a.m. I get awakened to the nervous chatter of my roommate. We have received a 3-day eviction notice. The times have been tough for the economy, and I am not stranger to that. I got a little behind on rent, and it wasn't until that day that reality sunk in. I feared for everything I had and everything I had accomplished and all the things I planned on accomplishing. I get up and begin to panic. Evicted? Happy effing birthday.
I begin to call around. Friends, family, strangers even. Heck. I needed help. My friend Liz tells me to calm me down she is going to take mt to Dairy Queen for ice cream, which kind of pisses me off. I don't want ice cream. She takes me there, and I see my friend Nate's van, and get annoyed, but think nothing of it.I am an emotional wreck on this day. I walk in and head straight for the counter. Liz grabs me and says, "Where the heck do you think you're going?" Ummm.... am I in DQ??? She turns me around towards a table where all my friends are with a cake and orange soda. (Keep in mind my complete and utter adoration for the orange soda). They had thrown together a surprise party without me knowing. With how frustrating the day had been, I hadn't even really thought about the fact that it was my birthday. Above is the picture, me caught of guard looking oh-so attractive. Yes, sarcasm.
They hand me cards for my birthday, and when I open the first one out falls $100. I began to cry, right there in the middle of Dairy Queen. The second envelope is stuffed, and I open it to find $220. Here are my friends, amazing people who came together to help out someone they love in a time of need. I sobbed uncontrollably at that table, and for someone who hates so much to cry in public, to lose control, it felt so good and so right. Afterwards, two pastors from my church come over to talk about the struggles my roommate and I have been facing, and then continue on to write a check to cover the rest of the rent. Who are these people, and why has God blessed me to put them in my life?! God has been telling me to just rely on Him, and that He will provide. Sure enough, there is my God, showing me all He is got.
The rest of the day was splendid, and Tuesday was fairly good as well. But, today was the big day for me. This morning, after only 4 hours of sleep, I wake up to go over to Rachel's apartment (whose name I apparently say funny?) to watch "Everything is Spiritual" by Rob Bell. Good man, great talker. I can't really sum of what was said, besides Yep, which only those of you that have seen it can thoroughly understand and enjoy the aforementioned statement. So, it is safe to say that my heart was very overwhelmed. One thing I suggest, when you're heart is overwhelmed, don't play Settlers of Catan. Every sucky move/play stabs you in the gut, for no apparent reason. I got numerous soul pains when playing today.
So, after an epicly bad game of Settlers that Andrew completely owned us at, Liz and I decide we are going to do Andrew's hair. See, Andrew recently got his hair dreaded, and since it is in the new stages, he must maintain the nasty, grungy, messiness of it for it to reach its maximum dread potential. He taught Liz and I how to take care of it, and we find the back combing, ratting, twisting, and gelling very calming. So, as we are doing his hair, we watch the Invisible Children 'How it Ends' video, about the lobby days in the capitol of the United States. I watch as these young children carry these guns, as they shoot innocent people and become molded into monsters from the innocent youth they once were. My heart breaks as I think about these abducted children, captive to become something they never probably imagined in a million year they would be.
Liz and I finish up the dreads, and head off on our own. We watch the entire Invisible Children movie, which is probably the 3rd or 4th time I have seen it. Nonetheless, it breaks my heart every time. To see these kids that have been mutilated, abducted, taken from their families. I remember the one part that kills me the most is when the kid says he would rather be dead than continue to live in the place that he does. "How can our future be?" he says.
23 years. This war has raged for 23 years. When did I first hear about this? A couple months ago. How can we have been so ignorant to the longest running war in Africa? Why do we Americans stick our nose in the air the moment someone needs help? What makes us so superior to the rest of the world? How can we have gone so long without helping out at all? We haven't tried to step in and make peace, we haven't tried to capture Joseph Kony. And why? Because it doesn't affect us. As long as we aren't getting hurt there can be all the genocide in the world. It is some bullcrap, and we finally have a chance to say something about it.
As my heart was breaking today I felt Him whisper, "What are you going to do about it?" I feel like God challenged me. I know we always pray for certain things, and I repeatedly find myself saying break my heart for what breaks yours, Lord. I feel like now he is showing me what it means to have my heart break for someone else. To not be so completely selfish and think about me all the time. Yeah, I almost got the boot, but did I have a gun pushed to my head and was I forced to be a soldier against my own will? No. But there are kids in the world who were.
This is the first time I felt like I wasn't completely insignificant. I feel like God is telling me, "Do something."
So, here I am. I am going to Washington, D.C. for lobby days. I am selling my futon, which is what I sleep on, so that I can get there. I don't care. God tells me this is what I must do, so here I am doing it.
This is a big leap of faith for me. I felt so encouraged today by the story in Hosea about God telling him to marry a prostitute, and then take her back both times she left him. Or when God told Rebecca to marry Isaac, a man she had never even met before. Or Abraham, who was going to kill his only son, because God said so. So, what? It costs money that I don't necessarily have. But whenever I think about that, I hear God again saying, "What are you going to do about it?"
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Monday, June 8, 2009
Happy Birthday?
19 years ago today marks the birth of Candace Maria. An unplanned birth, I was a happy surprise to my mother and not so happy to the other parental unit. I have a big disdain for birthdays, and my forehead feels very tight right now due to the fact that I know people are going to be wishing me happy birthday all day.
Here is the thing about birthdays- I hate them. I will explain why. My father had already had a girl before he married my mom. So, in his mind, he was set once my brother was born. One of each, why would he need more? So, when my mother got pregnant only 3 months after my brothers birth, my father was very against it. He tried to force my mother into having an abortion, was physically abusive with her, and just wasn't okay. So, my father split only a year after my birth. Something I've never told my mother was that when I was 12, my father told me that not only was I his biggest mistake, but that I was the cause of the divorce. I am sure you can only imagine the guilt that must lay on a child, one so young and so impressionable. Since then, my birthday has been one where I was honestly bitter and ridden with guilt.
I know it was for the best that my mother left my father, but to have the weight that you were the cause of a divorce is big. To know that you were the factor that stopped two people who were once in love, and tore them apart. I did that. It is hard to live with that. Throughout my life, people have always told me not to blame myself. But, how can I not blame me when my father obviously did.
Also, birthdays are sensitive because I've never really had a good birthday. There has always been something bad that happened. Like when I turned 13 and decided to have a party, and only 1 person showed up. Or the year when everyone forgot my birthday, and made up for it by celebrating it on the 18th.
So, where am I going with my pity party?
I feel like for the longest time, I have felt as though the only purpose in life I had was to break up a love. To break up a bond where both parties said "until death do us part...". Does that make me death? I am the death that broke up my parents marriage.
And to make matters worse, I feel utterly alone on this birthday. Yes, it is 4 a.m. How can I judge? I just feel like, even when I am around people, I will still feel alone and invisible. Like I always do.
When will I feel seen? When will I feel good enough to be visible? |
Happy birthday Candace.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Here is the thing about birthdays- I hate them. I will explain why. My father had already had a girl before he married my mom. So, in his mind, he was set once my brother was born. One of each, why would he need more? So, when my mother got pregnant only 3 months after my brothers birth, my father was very against it. He tried to force my mother into having an abortion, was physically abusive with her, and just wasn't okay. So, my father split only a year after my birth. Something I've never told my mother was that when I was 12, my father told me that not only was I his biggest mistake, but that I was the cause of the divorce. I am sure you can only imagine the guilt that must lay on a child, one so young and so impressionable. Since then, my birthday has been one where I was honestly bitter and ridden with guilt.
I know it was for the best that my mother left my father, but to have the weight that you were the cause of a divorce is big. To know that you were the factor that stopped two people who were once in love, and tore them apart. I did that. It is hard to live with that. Throughout my life, people have always told me not to blame myself. But, how can I not blame me when my father obviously did.
Also, birthdays are sensitive because I've never really had a good birthday. There has always been something bad that happened. Like when I turned 13 and decided to have a party, and only 1 person showed up. Or the year when everyone forgot my birthday, and made up for it by celebrating it on the 18th.
So, where am I going with my pity party?
I feel like for the longest time, I have felt as though the only purpose in life I had was to break up a love. To break up a bond where both parties said "until death do us part...". Does that make me death? I am the death that broke up my parents marriage.
And to make matters worse, I feel utterly alone on this birthday. Yes, it is 4 a.m. How can I judge? I just feel like, even when I am around people, I will still feel alone and invisible. Like I always do.
When will I feel seen? When will I feel good enough to be visible? |
Happy birthday Candace.
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
Friday, June 5, 2009
Roll to me.....
Look into your heart pretty baby,
is it aching with some nameless need?
Is there something wrong and you cant put your finger on it?
Right then, roll to me.
So, I am sitting in my friend Beth's kitchen, waiting to make tacos and hang out, but my heart is just so full right now.
Save me, I'm lost
Oh lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
What am I looking for? What is my heart searching for? For those of you following me on this journey, get used to lots of confusion. I am an 18 (19 in 3 days) year old who is searching for something more. Asking myself so many questions, questions that so many others are asking themselves.
Why do I continue to seek after God, but never seem to find the joy that others have?
Why do I let others make me feel condemned for what I am doing, when I know it is right?
These questions I got from a friend, but they certainly pertain to my life right now. I feel so much like the guy from the Shawshank Redemption, seeking freedom. Why do I feel like I am not free? I choose how I live everyday, I choose what I wear, who I talk to, how I act. Yet, I feel like I am still oppressed. I feel like I am caged, never able to do anything at all. Complacency. I have become complacent with my mass confusion. Where the hell is my heart at? What does it yearn for? Why do I feel like I cannot live until I receive the punishment I deserve. I feel as though I cannot be loved properly unless first there is some sort of form of retribution. I need to be punished first to get past the stage of feeling guilty. And guilt is not a healthy emotional, because there is a massive difference between conviction and guilt. For the longest time, I have tried to convince myself I was always convicted. But, to be honest, it is not conviction my heart feels. It is guilt.
Where did this idea come from? That in order to be truly forgiven, I first must be punished. It is a concept that you are taught, not something you just make up for funsies. All throughout my life, I was constantly punished. I was grounded most of the time. Of course, I deserved grounding sometimes. But, when I got frustrated about the punishment, my parents always said something along the lines of, "We don't like to punish you, but we do it because we love you."
There it is! I am not condemning my parents or saying what they did was wrong, because I feel like I am ALWAYS putting the blame on my parents. But, from that, I got the idea that true love means you must punish them, you want what is best for them, and punishment is what is best. So, I believe that I cannot truly accept God's love until He punishes me. Which isn't going to happen, so where do I go from here?
Lots to ponder. Until next time...
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
is it aching with some nameless need?
Is there something wrong and you cant put your finger on it?
Right then, roll to me.
So, I am sitting in my friend Beth's kitchen, waiting to make tacos and hang out, but my heart is just so full right now.
Save me, I'm lost
Oh lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
What am I looking for? What is my heart searching for? For those of you following me on this journey, get used to lots of confusion. I am an 18 (19 in 3 days) year old who is searching for something more. Asking myself so many questions, questions that so many others are asking themselves.
Why do I continue to seek after God, but never seem to find the joy that others have?
Why do I let others make me feel condemned for what I am doing, when I know it is right?
These questions I got from a friend, but they certainly pertain to my life right now. I feel so much like the guy from the Shawshank Redemption, seeking freedom. Why do I feel like I am not free? I choose how I live everyday, I choose what I wear, who I talk to, how I act. Yet, I feel like I am still oppressed. I feel like I am caged, never able to do anything at all. Complacency. I have become complacent with my mass confusion. Where the hell is my heart at? What does it yearn for? Why do I feel like I cannot live until I receive the punishment I deserve. I feel as though I cannot be loved properly unless first there is some sort of form of retribution. I need to be punished first to get past the stage of feeling guilty. And guilt is not a healthy emotional, because there is a massive difference between conviction and guilt. For the longest time, I have tried to convince myself I was always convicted. But, to be honest, it is not conviction my heart feels. It is guilt.
Where did this idea come from? That in order to be truly forgiven, I first must be punished. It is a concept that you are taught, not something you just make up for funsies. All throughout my life, I was constantly punished. I was grounded most of the time. Of course, I deserved grounding sometimes. But, when I got frustrated about the punishment, my parents always said something along the lines of, "We don't like to punish you, but we do it because we love you."
There it is! I am not condemning my parents or saying what they did was wrong, because I feel like I am ALWAYS putting the blame on my parents. But, from that, I got the idea that true love means you must punish them, you want what is best for them, and punishment is what is best. So, I believe that I cannot truly accept God's love until He punishes me. Which isn't going to happen, so where do I go from here?
Lots to ponder. Until next time...
Peace, Love, and Chimichangas,
Candace
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