Publish

Every day I know I should write. I know I should clear my mind. Unburden my soul. And yet I'm blocked. Distracted. Unmotivated. Uninspired. Thoughts come to me in the shower. While driving. While painting. While laying in bed. But I can never bring myself to write them down. To clarify. To unleash. To let my mind unwind. It's as if I consciously choose to keep them internal. For fear of facing the truth. As if reality would stare at me back from the page. Grab my throat. Choke me. Suffocate me. Force me to face things. No avoidance allowed.

And yet life continues. Challenging me at every step. Blocking my every move. Never dull. No break. Even when I've received this forced break. Total removal of all outside responsibilities. Empty nest. Sudden quiet and silent life. Outsiders stepping in. Making decisions without all the facts. Orthodoxy at its best. 

Awake

Burnt out. Life cannot take a pause. No calm allowed. Tired. Fed up. Is there a message I am supposed to be seeing. I literally do not know how I keep moving. What is this miraculous source that keeps me going. What exactly is motivating me.

Dropped in a desert with no water. No food. No shelter.  No clothes. Nothing. Alone. And yet, I am that cactus. Functioning. Surviving. On the bare minimum. How is it possible. How have I not succumbed to my surroundings. How have I not given up yet.

You say that I am special.  That I have potential. All I can answer you is that I feel worthless. Unworthy. A waste of space. My purpose on this earth is to serve. To take care of others. To give. There is no real me. I am a shadow.

And this purpose that I have had my entire life is suddenly gone. Swept out from under my feet. Excused from all responsibility. Without choice. No warning. An empty nest. Barren. Others making decisions. Completely taken out of my hands. Unattached. Silent. Removed. Mute.

You have perverted life. Made decisions without all the facts. Distorted reality. Sheltered. Avoided. Abused your power. Corrupted. Shattered life. Broken a family. Damaged the future. All for what. Instant gratification. A moment of pleasure. Supposed happiness. No long-term goals. No plan for the future. Destruction. Life-long devastation. Enabled. Crippled.

Loss. Unattainable expectation. Alone. Who will pick up the pieces. The glass shatters. Who will be there. No physical contact. Masked emotion. Bleeding tears. Toss and turn. Blinding darkness. Egg dripping down the windshield. Black and blue. Blinking lights. Deafening sound. Uncontrollable.

Time to wake up. Good morning.

Spasms

I'm all alone. Laying here. In a hospital bed. In some exam room. In the neurology department. There's no one here. But me. And I can't stop the tears. I can't handle the pain. Spasms into legs. Sharp stabbing in my hips. A bruised back. Hole in my spine. In between two vertebrae. Laying here. In a skimpy hospital gown. No one around. Not a soul. It's me. Always me. Only me.

I squeeze the pillow. Try not to yell out. Not a single peep. No noise. Body bent. Back arched. Needles. Five times. Numb. Catheter. Cerebral spinal fluid. Pressure. Paralyzed. I'm silent. Until I can't hold it in any longer. The pain overwhelms. The tears explode out of my eyes. I gasp and try to breathe. The world is collapsing around me. Suffocating. Unbearable. 

I lay here. I'm all alone.

Never Dull

After Shabbos

Driving alone 

Road trip 

Music blaring 

Pop pop

Loud noise 

NJ TNPK

Highway shoulder 

Flat tire 

No answer 

Mile marker

Reading book 

AAA

Spare tire

50 mph

Exit 3

Motel search 

Indians 

Shady 

Rundown 

Econo Lodge

Room 101

Bolted door

No toothpaste 

Broken vending machine 

Eventual sleep

3:45 wake up 

Cursing

Fight 

Loud 

Shouting 

Police

Domestic violence 

8 am checkout 

Orange juice 

Banana 

Forgotten ring 

Pep Boys

New tire 

On the road again 

Monsey 

Friends 

Wedding 

Bride 

Dancing

Sleep 

Couch 

6:45 am

On the road again

4 hours 

Sleepy 

Work 

Sleep

Work 

Hopkins 

Sleep study 

Ignorance is Beautiful

It seems that I will always be dependable. Reliable. I will always live to serve. My role as an individual is almost unnecessary. The me that hides beneath is mute. Silent. I go through the motions. And sometimes I actually do care. But it's mostly a facade. A distraction. From the truth. From reality. From myself. Your lives and dramas are so much easier to deal with. No emotion required. No self-reflection or motivation needed. Inspiration flown out the window ages ago. Ignorance is a welcomed drug. A wonderful pill to swallow. Unlike the horse-pill that lies around the corner. Waiting to close up my throat. Suffocate my lungs. Empty any stomach-juices left in my body. Leaning over a toilet or any available garbage can.

Ignorance is a beautiful thing. It prevents from mourning a loved one. Erases the pain of seeing the dead. Watching as dirt is dug and one plain box is lowered into the earth. Numb as a life is forever gone. The end. Unconditional love has slipped through your finger tips. Never to exist again. Any possible heartache gone. Holding a mother who cannot stop crying and does not know why. I am not a daughter. I am a mother. A caretaker. A mother to no one. I am not a wife. But somehow I got sucked into that role. Because I live to serve. I sacrificed myself. I was afraid to soar. To fly. I could not let go. I could not feel. I pushed it all under the carpet. I lost me. I have disappeared. And for what. What do I have to show for any of it. Nothing. Nothing.

Happy Nothing Year

Once again I wish you nothing. Not a happy New Year. Not a Sweet New Year. All a total crap. Everyone gets sappy and emotional and starts coming out of the wood work. All to wish a bunch of strangers. Facebook friends. Co-workers. It is all lies. Fake. You didn't really care what the last year was like. So why do you all of the sudden seem to have an outpouring of fake love. I have distanced myself from most. Makes it easier to suffer in silence. Not have to explain myself. Describe what I'm going through. Just experience things on my terms. No one to answer to. So don't call me or bother texting me your message filled false wishes. And by the way, a general Facebook status counts for nothings. No one cares. Don't waste your words.

So Happy Nothing to you and yours. Cheers.

relationship

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV-WONhEZec

The Real Story

I was diagnosed with Pseudo-tumor Cerebrei in November, 2009. Was admitted in Hopkins after a bunch of misdiagnoses. At that time, they found that I had a venus stenosis (which from my understanding, means a vein in the back of my head is small). They had discussed Stenting the vein. But it was decided to start with the medicine route. I also had third nerve palsy and 7th nerve palsy, with a lot of vision loss, specifically in my peripheral vision. I had received various lumbar punctures, all showing elevated pressures. And had a spinal drain. I was seen by Dr MA, a neuro-ophthalmologist at S and continue to see him. I was taking Diamox for fluid drainage and Topamax for my eyes.

In May, 2012, after taking myself off all meds because I didn't have insurance, i started having symptoms again and was admitted to SN hospital. There, I received spinal taps and decided to get a shunt. I did not want to go back on medication. My surgeon was Dr S, who inserted a non-adjustable peritoneal lumbar shunt. After my staples were removed, I began to feel much better and had been managing healthily for two year plus.

In October of 2014, I moved back to B and began seeing Dr A again. Presented with good visual fields and good vision. I also began seeing Dr MW at H as my new neurosurgeon to manage my case. He recommended that I meet with Dr DR at Hopkins to have a neurosurgeon familiar with my case in case of complication.

In July of 2014, I began feeling symptoms again. Headaches and nausea and after calling Dr W, it was recommended that I go straight to H ER. I was cleared by Opthalmology and never seen by Neuro. CT scans and X-ray showed nothing and I was sent home and told to follow up with my neurologist. Dr. W's office was very difficult to get a hold of. I was finally sent to Dr YC, a headache specialist and colleague of Dr W. With only a consultation and no testing done, she said that it was most likely not migraines and felt very certain that my symptoms were because of my shunt. On August 20, I went to H and had a lumbar puncture with contrast and then did three Shunt Patancy Studies over a period of 24 hours. A week later, i was seen by Dr R who confirmed that the shunt has malfunctioned and is not draining CSF. I am currently waiting to hear from Dr G's office in H to schedule a CTV. Dr R would like to find out if the I am a candidate for Stenting due to my Venus Stenoses before committing to replacing the shunt. I have not been able to reach anyone at Dr W office to get medication treatment in the meantime and went to my general doctor, Dr E R at S H. He prescribed Diamox and Zoloft and left messages for Dr W and his nurse practitioner CW. Dr R's secretary was informed by Dr W office that they no longer wanted to follow my case and felt that I should be seen completely by H.

So yeah...

Side effect

My best friend is in active labor. I'm so anxious to meet this baby. Almost like it's my baby. It's actually holding me together. I started taking diamox last night. Again. The dreaded diamox. I was up the whole night. I had to pee almost every single hour. And then when I had to get out of my bed, my head was spinning. Oh how I hate diamox. The side effects take over your life. How is a person expected to function. How can I do anything. Be anything. I can barely lift my head. I know that there are people that care. And want to help. But it's hard for me. Hard for me to ask for help. To turn outward. But it seems it's getting to that point. The stage in life when you can't always be strong. Need a shoulder. Support. Diamox will do that to you. Rearrange your life. Your mind. Your every move. Wonderful.

Why

I'm just sick of it. Why does this keep happening to me. What did I do to deserve this. How am I supposed to keep going. Keep fighting. I'm tired. Worn out. Overwhelmed. Stressed out. Anxious. Enough is enough. No more. Please no more. I'm mad. At you. At him. I hate him. Why am I alone. Why is it ok for you to abandon me. Abandoned. Neglected. Forced to fight alone. Suffocate on my own. By myself. Over and over again. Why does this keep happening to me. When is my break. When do I get to come up for air. This isn't right. It's all wrong. So wrong. I can't be strong. Won't make it through. The truth is that it's times like this that I wish I had a mother. Someone to care. Unconditional love. Why.

Poof

I sit here reading her response. And I'm just bawling my eyes out. Although, I was just waiting for that thing that would tip me off. Push me over the edge I was standing on. Unravel me. She always has a way with words. And I guess I'm just so vulnerable right now. Yeah me. Vulnerable. Shocker. Who would believe it. There's nothing that's right. Nothing feels ok. No stability. Pain in all directions.   Misery and sadness swallowing me whole. Sadly, I wish for a hug. A need for some comfort. A bit of love. Maybe some attention. Perhaps affection would do me some good. But alas, it is not there. Does not exist. Not an option. Not for me. Nope. Instead, I drown in my own sorrow. Suffocate in my own emotions. Disappear a little bit more each day. Until poof. I will cease to exist.

The Truth Hurts

Hi S,

I'm sorry that I didn't respond and have not been in contact. It means a lot to know you are thinking about me. It's hard for me. I know that's not an excuse. As life has never been easy. For me. Or for anyone. Especially you. But it's definitely on the difficult side now and I am holding on by a thread. Therefore, it makes being "open" and "keeping in touch" very difficult. 1. I have nothing good to share and I try to avoid complaining. 2. I feel as if I have disappointed you. You have always seen the good in me and truly feel that I have all this potential. And I have flat out failed. I haven't accomplished. So it becomes easier to just keep to myself. To not reach out. It's a cop out. But it's less threatening. I'm not sure if anything I am saying is making any sense. I look around this life. Mine. Those around me. And I see pain. Sadness. It's pretty hard for me to relate to any happiness at this point. And that is a sad thing to admit. 

Thanks for always being there.

R

Comics

http://www.buzzfeed.com/hnigatu/comics-that-capture-the-frustrations-of-depression

Migraine Cocktail

Once again

Back in the ER

5 pm

Friday

Flashbacks 

Uncontrollable pain 

Mechallel Shabbos 

Left alone 

Abandoned

Fend for myself 

Catscan 

Waiting room

X-ray 

Blood drawn

No good veins 

Nausea

Headache

Benadryl

Reglan 

Migraine cocktail 

11 pm

Waiting room 

Criminals 

Psychiatric patients

Homeless people

New iv 

Oxycodone

Back to the waiting room  

Dilated eyes 

Bright lights 

2 am

Exhaustion 

Seeing grey 

More doctors 

Another consult 

Resident

Attending 

Opthalmologist

Neurologist

4 am

Wide awake

Back to waiting room 

Remove iv 

Discharge papers 

Security 

Taxi 

6:30 am

Shabbos 

Home

Pain 

Headache 

Sleep 

Never ending 

  

6 years

6 years ago today

I was a bride

Walking down the aisle

Led by both my parents 

Big white gown

Veil covering my eyes

Walking towards a man I loved

A man I planned to spend the rest of my life with

A man I committed to with all my heart

6 years ago today

I was hopeful

I had faith

I believed in something great

I believed in love

I even believed in myself

6 years ago today 

My new life began 

But then it ended 

Was no more 

The carpet was ripped from under my feet

6 years ago today

Was a different lifetime 

A facade 

An illusion 

A figment of my imagination 

6 years ago today

I was a fool 

6 fucking years

psa

NOTHING EVER WORKS OUT

A week in the life....

So it's been an interesting life so far. Specifically this week. But then again, what else is new? It's never boring. Never a dull moment. And it's probably better off that way. I don't know if I could handle a quiet life. That would probably force me to deal with reality.

Sunday. Went boating with my sister. That was a fun experience. Not. I love driving to the lake. Windows down. Music blasting. Hair flying. I sang out loud the whole trip. She said not a word. Then, silence in the kayak. The weather was fabulous. I refused to let her mood get to me. Drive home. Silent. 

Later on, I drove to SS. Figured I should drive to him this time. He came to me the first two times. We went bowling. Awkward. Then went out to eat. You figure that you're about 45 minutes away from home. Privacy. Secrecy. Nope. My neighbor is behind us in line. A "friend" and her family are sitting in the back corner. As we continue our awkward conversation, an actual friend walks in with her family. I mean, seriously. Can't a girl get some space. 

Monday. Went painting with friends. Politics. Making a statement. Very obvious move. I had a blast. It felt great that others knew where I stand. Let them wonder. 

Tuesday. Went swimming. Ahhh the sun is truly my friend. Super relaxing. Rushed home to shower. Off to the rabbi with father and sister. Talk about an experience. Oh, Na was there too. After all, she runs our lives. Can't leave her out. Topics of discussion. Internet. Texting. Oh right. Communication. Or rather, lack there of. How do you spell "silent treatment?" Wait, what. Denial is our friend. Yay. How do we leave off. Oh yeah, going to a family therapist. Woot woot. Can't wait. 

Wednesday. Finally had a conversation. Been avoiding. Over thinking. Mutually agreed it wasn't the right fit. No chemistry. No desire to open up.

Went to Al-Anon for the first time. No, no one in my family is an alcoholic. Well, not really. Went for the experience. To hear others' stories of living in dysfunction. Yup. So that was enlightening. And slightly draining. No actually, really draining. Adults who are perpetuating and repeating the past. Super fun. 

Received an email from "friend" asking for help. Yup, I know what happened. How could she not. Totally delusional. She's said things to me that have hurt. So clueless. Wrapped up in her own world. Not my problem. Gave a vague, non helpful answer. No response. Oh well. 

Thursday. Out to dinner. Practicing communication. Food shopping. Off to basketball. Amazing. Finally. Run. Pass. Shoot. Three pointer. That's what I'm taking about. 

Friday. Work my ass off. Nursing home. Paint my nails. Finally. 

Shabbos. 

Delusional Friendships

Her email- 

R, 

I don't know how to word this and I am debating in my head if I should write it at all. But, it has been bothering me for a while and if anyone can help me I think it's you.

I really enjoyed my friendship with Z, and felt that we were very close friends. It seems that all of a sudden one day the frienship ujust turned off. I want to figure out how I hurt her so I can try to make amends, it really eats at me that our freindship ended so abruptly. I am not expecting to "pick up where we left off", I just want to right any wrongs I did. 

I was wondering if you had any insights that could help me piece this together? I don't want to "drag you" into something 1) because I don't think there is a "something" and 2) you have enough on your plate. I just know that you are very aware of people's feelings and know me and Z well enough to hopefully be able to help. 

Please don't share this with Z, or anyone else. I have tried asking Z but she brushed me off. I don't think you asking her "head on" would help either, but again, if you had any insight I would really appreciate it.

My response -

Hey,

Sorry I haven't had time to respond.

I wish I could really help you. Honestly, I  don't know. I think it's natural for friends to grow apart. It's definitely a hard reality. But isn't that life? I'm not sure what happened between you two. I really try to stay out of everyone else's business. It's just a simpler and less dramatic way to live.

I do know that every single one of us has not had the "easiest" life and sometimes taking space is the only way to function. Less painful than opening up to those around us. I know that I have taken that approach.

I'm sorry if I can't be more help. Sometimes, I miss the days when we were younger and more naive. When life was "simpler" and we were all just getting together for a potluck. But sadly, and maybe realistically, those days are behind us. We have all had to grow up. And that's part of life.

I guess the question is "now what?"  And for that I definitely do not have an answer.

R :)

Open Me Up

Why is it so hard for me to open up. Why has it always been so easy to open up to total strangers. To people who could not be there for me. Who maybe did not even care. Who had other lives. That did not include me. I was a secret. A dirty little secret. To too many. I was not first. I was used. But it was so easy. Simple. I could say whatever I wanted. Be whoever I wanted. Whoever they wanted me to be. Was that the real me. Was it all a game. Fake. A facade. I could tell them whatever truth I wanted. Even if it was an ugly one. I didn't feel judged.

But now. When it actually matters. When it's real life. My life. I am silent. I cannot open my mouth. I cannot share a thing. Everything is on the surface. I can't break through. I do not know how to open up. There is potential right in front of me. And I will lose the opportunity. All because my lips are sealed. My walls have flown up. And I do not know how to break them down. I'm scared to introduce the real me. The complicated, imperfect version of me. Most people can not handle truth. It's all too much. I'm too much.

So now what. How do I get past this fear. This constant fear of unknown. It's not others' I should be concerned about. It seems it's my own judgement I am fearing. It seems it's me who doesn't feel worthwhile. Worthy. Why am I constantly my own worst enemy. Harshest critic. Why can't I see that I am a good person. That I am not so bad. That the past does not define me. It builds me. How can I open up if I do not see my own good qualities. Who am I really punishing.

Endless Pattern

Do you realize what you're doing. How your actions affect other people. Do you see me. Or are you looking through me. Do you see a pattern. An unhealthy cycle. Why must this continue. Happen once again. When will you learn from the past. And not continue to repeat it. Do you feel bad. Do you notice the damage you cause. The pain you cannot erase. The distrust that arises and develops. Never to return. Are you so far gone that you do not notice anymore. Cannot choose your family. Are you so alone and wrapped up in your own mind. You don't see what you're doing. How many times will there be room for forgiveness. Will we always be able to let you back in when you come around. When you decide you're ready. Can we withstand this one more time. Do you see us hurting. Desperate for your love and attention. Are you totally blinded by your own pain. Is she all you can think about. Must she consume your every thought. Do you see how crippled you've made us. Do you. Do you.

Separation is Reality

I'm so sad to hear a friend is separated from her husband. It's scary to think that we all got married too young. Young and naive. Idealistic and stupid. Following our hearts and not our brains. Did I luck out? Did I get out early? When very little damage could be done? Did I have time to myself. To grow. To mature. To live. Alone. Without another. No one else to rule my life. No future consequences. A clean break. Separation for me was a given. The minute it started, it was the end. The end of a life. End of reality. He wanted out. There was no chance for any forgiveness. He got what he wanted. But truly, separation should be a chance. A chance to figure things out. To work things through. You got married for a reason. Because you saw something in each other. Was it only peer pressure. Family pressure. The thing everyone was doing. Marrying high school boyfriends. Now what. Is no one really happy. Are there no good marriages. Is everything a facade. Are you all faking. Do true love and happiness not exist. Is it unattainable. What has come of this world. What will happen to everyone. Are you happy. Is anyone happy. Is there a chance for me.

Nope. Not For Me

I made a decision. It's been weighing on me for a while. I choose not to do it. And I feel good about it. The stress doesn't need to be mine. I have weighed the pros and cons. Over and over again. It's not the right fit for me. I can do better. And I will do better. This does not define me. This may be an opportunity that I am passing up. But I can make other opportunities. I will make something of myself. And this is not it. This is not right. I feel it in my gut. I feel it in my soul. I am sure of this decision. I could ask a million other people what they think. And they will all think I am crazy. But the choice is mine. Yes, I am very capable and I could totally pull it off. But the final answer is that I do not want to. This is not me avoiding my potential. This is me finally admitting what I want. And this is not it. Sighing a sigh of relief. Tonight I sleep with no worries.

Sun-kissed

Roadtripping

Ultimate therapy

Open road

Mountain view 

God's creation 

Beauty 

Zero traffic 

Windows down

Hair flying 

Music blasting 

Sun-kissed arms 

Freedom

Clear mind

Peace

Complete

Whole 

Pause on life 

Break from reality 

Time alone 

Breath of fresh air

Hours of clarity 

Much needed 

Traffic

Home 

Back to reality. 

Boxed in

Accountability

It seems self awareness is not enough. Instead, how bout we go to three different therapists. The goal is to find meaning in something. In life. To find accountability. To actually be held accountable. By someone else. From yourself. Setting goals is a scary thing. Once they're set, they need to be completed. No backing out. Must choose to face reality and not hide behind distractions. Cut off the ball and chain that has always been dragging behind. Take one step forward. Instead of the constant million steps back.

A Response

I've thought a lot about what to write to you. I've wanted to respond for months. There's something stopping me. Pride maybe? I can't admit that my life is hell. I can't verbalize it properly. And I can't justify it or downplay things. That's what I would end up doing. I can't pretend that everything is ok. That I'm ok. I would be lying. I'm struggling and I can't ask for help. I don't know how. I refuse to admit defeat. I have to keep up appearances. The outside world has to think I'm strong. I must fool them all. The problem is that I couldn't fool you. I couldn't fake it around you. You saw right through me. And that scared me. And now I've taken too long. Let it go too far. And I don't know how to fix things. Repair a broken bridge. I think about it daily and yet I haven't done anything about it. Now what?

Mother's Day Part 1

Early
Yard work
Full face of makeup
Flip flops
Long, flowy skirt
Ten minutes early
Five minutes late
Public
Gluten Free
Lactaid pills
Sauce
Undershirt
Nursing Home

Diaper
Tea Party
Family
Slides
Friends
Shopping
Hot flashes
Flip flops
Lines
Song
Bed

Far Away From Here

Goodbye to my little brother

Going back to another life 

A life far away 

From here

From this reality 

Gets to live his own life 

A real life 

Healthy and free 

For himself 

Unburdened 

Unaffected 

Carefree 

Not jealous. Nope. 

UnOriginal

It's Sefira but I can't stop myself from listening to music. I get the reasoning. Music has a tremendous power. It has this absolute control over me. But it doesn't make me happy. Does that justify things?

Music makes me sad. The lyrics place me in a trance. The beat manages to push its way into my veins. The emotion and feeling in the singer's voice take over my soul. It becomes an out of body experience. Completely overwhelming.  All encompassing. Shouldn't all that be a reason not to listen.

But I can't stop. I want the loss of control. I need the emotional release. I crave feeling. Feeling something. Anything. Even if they are not original. Even if they are not mine. For one moment, I can feel something. And that's the point. That's all that matters.

One Tiny Little Pawn

I did it.
Took the first step.
Again.
Agreed to play the game.
Showed up.
Faced my opponent.
I made a move.
Moved one pawn.
One tiny little pawn.
I committed.
It's just one move.
But it starts the game.
Gets the ball rolling.

Timer is ticking.

Do you know who I am?

I write because I might explode. If I don't get certain thoughts out of my head, I'm not sure what I could do.

I come to see you and you barely show emotion. No recognition on your face. You sit in your chair and refuse to communicate. Do you know I'm here. Do you know who I am. 

You won't eat. You won't talk. Your family sits around you. Do you know who we are. Do you care. Do you realize that we have sacrificed our lives for you. Again. Constantly. Never ending. 

Do you realize that the roles are reversed. Have always been. That I take YOU to the bathroom. Force you to sit down. That I'm the one putting a diaper on YOU. Then I lay in bed with you and hold you. As you sleep in my arms, taking up a third of the bed and whimpering in your sleep. 

I wonder what you're thinking. Are their any thoughts in your head. Complete emptiness. Do you recognize me. Do you think I'm your mother. Are you used to me being your caretaker. Who else would do such things. Do you even know who I am. Do you trust just anyone. Are you slightly more comfortable with me. 

And I try not to let my mind wander. No thinking allowed. Feelings are not ok. Shut down. Tucked in a little corner. In the back of my head. In a crevice in my heart. I cannot choose me. Never the first priority. Must be strong. And take care of everyone else. That is my destiny. It's why I was placed on this earth. For you. For them. This is who I am. I am the way I am because of you. 

Do you know that. Do you know that you gave me life and then wrecked it. Do you know that I have nothing. Am nothing. For you. Because of you. Do you know. And now what. How long can this go on. How long can I fake this reality. This truth. Your truth. 

When do I get to have a mother.

On Whose Terms?

I wonder what god wants from us. Why he created a messed up world. Does he have high expectations of us or does he know we will all fail. I wonder why he created pain and misery. Why some people are born with happy dispositions and others are in constant agony.

Is it normal that I'm the happiest person in my family. When I'm really faking it. Being strong for everyone else. So the family won't totally fall apart. Each person is suffering in their own depression. Slowly suffocating on their own terms. 

I just spent the last two hours in a bar. Not for me. But for my father. Who is severely depressed. Everything he has worked his life for is slipping through his fingers. The love of his life, the woman he treasures doesn't know who he is. Is falling through the cracks. Farther and farther away from him. I watch him drink  beer after beer, as I sip my sprite. And I wish I could be the one getting drunk. I wish I could be the one letting go. But it's never my time. I must always be strong. 

And then I drive him home. Once again the responsible one. Never let off the hook. We laugh and joke. About her funeral. What we would say for our hespedim. How he would announce his engagement. We are sick. Sicker than people could ever know. Then I say that no eulogizing is allowed in Nissan. And we laugh some more. 

We get home and I tuck him into his bed. And then I sit here in a quiet house. Alone. And I feel nothing. A lifetime of nothing, I think about all the people I've lost. Who've left for one reason or another. Those that I cut out. Some that I've pushed away. All gone. To constantly protect myself. Because it's the only way I could continue to function. How much could a human being withstand. How can I survive when the past refuses to let me go. Holds me hostage. Floods my mind. The present stretches out, pushing the future away from reach. 

Where's the hope. What does hope even mean. It's all unattainable. So forgive me if I don't have energy to respond. To be the person you need me to be. I'm doing the best I can. And that's as honest as you're gonna get. I'm still alive. And that's a daily struggle. I'm still alive. For now. 

My message to you

If one more person asks me how old I am and then tells me that my life is not over. That I should choose to make my life better. I'm going to scream. I can't bite my tongue anymore. Am I choosing to be miserable. Am I choosing this unhappiness. Do I have anything to show for myself. Do I have anyone to go home to. Am I wanted anywhere. Is it so easy for you to tell me to snap out of it. To get help. Go on medication. You have all the answers. And I'm once again a failure. You can call me a fair weather atheist. Whatever floats your boat. He can keep spitting in my face. Laughing at me and my pathetic life. Let the lightening strike I'm ready. I have a message for all of you. Fuck off.

Don't worry, this is about someone else

When you hang up and realize how alone you are

When tears of desperation spring from your face

When your friends call you to babysit their kid so they can watch a movie 

When your whole body hurts 

When you can't be bothered to get dressed 

When you wish you would die in your sleep

When you have your funeral planned 

When there's no hope 

When you are 80 years old 

When you are everyone's rock 

When you've stopped talking to everyone 

When you have nothing left to say 

When it all ends 

Smashed

When you cut yourself on a brand new nail polish bottle that smashed in your hand. And the Polish is blue. And you assume that the red nail polish all over your nails mush have come off somehow and gotten all over your hand. Mixing with the blue that just spilled. And then you try to use nail polish remover to clean it all off and wonder why your fingers are stinging. Then realize that the red is actually blood. The sick part is that you enjoy the pain. It feels good. It feels. You feel something. And it looks kind of cool. And the only thing you are upset about is the fact that you broke a good nail polish bottle.

No title needed

Stranger

From "The Courts of Chaos" by Roger Zelazny

As I slogged along, I was hailed from somewhere to my left:

"Stranger! Halt and regard me!"

Wary, I halted. Couldn't see a damned thing through that fog, though.

"Hello," I said. "Where are you?"

Just then, the fogs broke for a moment and I beheld a huge head, eyes on a level with my own. They belonged to what seemed a giant body, sunk up to the shoulders in a quag. The head was bald, the skin pale as milk, with a stony texture to it. The dark eyes probably seemed even darker than they really were by way of contrast.

"I see," I said then. "You are in a bit of a fix. Can you free your arms?"

"If I strain mightily," came the reply.

"Well, let me check about for something stable you can grab onto. You ought to have a pretty good reach there."

"No. That is not necessary."

"Don't you want to get out? I thought that was why you hollered."

"Oh, no. I simply wanted you to regard me."

I moved nearer and stared, for the fog was beginning to shift again.

"All right," I said. "I have seen you."

"Do you feel my plight?"

"Not particularly, if you will not help yourself or accept help."

"What good would it do me to free myself?"

"It is your question. You answer it."

I turned to go.

the story never ends

Let me tell you a story.

There once was a girl.  For the sake of the story, we will call her Olive. Olive looked very young. She had great genes. External genes that is. Most of the women on her mother's side looked very young. A true miracle. Internally, Olive had aged way too quickly. She had the soul of a 93 year old. An old soul. And too many experiences to count for her young age. Painful experiences. 

Olive played a part. She was the lead in a very complex play. She was the heroine. For everyone else. She showed up to every practice. Never missed a beat. Lines were all memorized. Costume was always ironed and pressed. She even ad-libbed when others' faltered. Olive was a pro. Always to be counted on. Reliable. Responsible. 

Olive held it all together. Until one day, she couldn't. Olive couldn't fake it anymore. Her facade started crumbling. The walls around her soul could no longer hold themselves up. The glass surrounding her heart lay in a shattered mess inside her lungs. Every breath became difficult. Every movement felt weighed down. 

Olive continued showing up to practice. But her lines faltered. Her enthusiasm was lacking. She showed up. But she wasn't really there. She was nowhere to be found. She heard nothing. Not the director and not her fellow actors. The only sound that penetrated her body was the music. Only music. The music had never left her. Never abandoned her. Olive felt enveloped in the music's power. It ate her alive. 

The story of Olive never ends. It just goes on and on. Until it doesn't. 

Stuck

What's it like to live in a house. A home where everyone is depressed. No one bothers to utter a word. Each person is more drained than the next. Overwhelmed. How do you function. Survive. Each step is agonizing. Every word is so difficult to get out. No distraction. No break. Constant misery. You wait. Wait for anything. Wait for nothing. Life continues. But you remain the same. Unchanged. Unmoved. Static. Immobile. Stuck. Always stuck. Stuck with others. Stuck with yourself. Stuck in yourself.

Just another day.

I want...

I want you to hold me

Lay with me

Touch me 

I want you to want me 

Need me 

Feel me 

I want you to adore me 

Treasure me 

Satisfy me 

I want you to need me 

Desire me 

Inspire me 

I want you to electrify me 

Motivate me 

Move me

I want you to understand me

Respect me 

Love me  

Where are you. 

"I am not..."

I'm listening to Israeli love songs. The music breaks my heart. The Hebrew words are so beautiful. So raw. Yearning. I try to find meaning in this life. I aim to feel joy and happiness. Purpose and fulfillment.

I have been following this "what I be" campaign. Basically this photographer has been taking pictures of people with a word or statement written on their body with a black sharpie. Each person revealing and unleashing a different insecurity that they hide from the world. I can't stop looking at the pictures. What word would I choose. What statement would define me. The first word that comes to mind is DIVORCED. My statement would be "I am not my trust issues." Or how about ALONE, followed by the statement "I am not my depression." I could go with ANXIETY and say "I am not my suicidal ideation." I think this photographer is brilliant and is effecting tremendous change in the world through this movement. 

I think about the fact that I should be pursuing dating. And yet I can't make myself do anything about it. Going to shadchanim. Saying yes to profiles. Judging a book by its cover. A first phone call. All makes me want to puke. And that's even before going on an actual date. The prospects are embarrassing. Pathetic. Almost worth it to be alone. Almost. 

Going to a new neurosurgeon tomorrow. The saga continues. Can't escape it. A routine appointment. Still have this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. What will be. Have I been through enough. Have I not put in my time. Suffered enough agony. How long can this life go on. How long can life go on this way. At what point do I get swept under the current. How long can I tread in this ocean. 

One more day. One foot in front of the other. 

devour me

You didn't listen

I told you no

I tried so hard 

To end things 

I was hoping 

You would get the message 

Let me off the hook

Do the right thing 

Be the stronger person 

You kept talking to me 

It wasn't over 

I couldn't stop 

I needed one more second 

You wanted more time

Saw that I was weak 

You sat around the corner 

I went against my morals 

I walked to your car 

I got in the passenger side 

We were silent 

Like we knew each other 

For a lifetime 

A magnetic pull 

Drawing us closer 

You drove to a parking lot

I kept shaking my head 

Knew this was wrong 

So very wrong 

But I didnt stop you 

I just wanted to be close to you 

Even for one tiny second 

I needed the attention 

I felt the desire

My body was shaking 

My heart was beating 

You said you just wanted to be near me

All you wanted was to touch my face 

It had been so long

Since I had felt anything 

Let alone touch

And then you touched my face 

You ran your fingers along my lips 

Pulled me towards you 

A small kiss

Your hands in my hair 

I knew we should stop

But I wanted more 

I craved more 

I needed you to touch me

To feel me 

But I kept sitting back 

Shaking my head

It was all wrong 

We were all wrong 

And then you drove

To a more deserted location 

And I felt your tongue 

I tasted your mouth 

Your hand tried to travel 

I stopped you

And then you held my hand 

I wrapped my fingers in yours 

I just wanted more 

I wanted you

I wanted you to want me 

To devour me 

Whole 

But we kept stopping

Holding back 

A ticking time bomb 

About to explode

The desire was flooding the car

Intensity 

You laid on my chest 

You felt my scar

And your fingers tried to travel 

But I pulled you away 

We were on the verge 

Of insanity 

Torture

And then you got your bearings 

You buckled your seat belt

And drove me back 

I got out of your car 

And I kissed the window 

I left my lip print 

On your car 

So you would always see me there 

Never forget me

Or that moment 

And then I ran inside  

Guilt overwhelmed me 

But so did desire 

I wanted more

I wanted you

I got moments 

And they began fading 

Sporadic memory 

Of your lips on mine 

Your fingers on my face

Your head on my chest 

A moment that came and went

Disappeared 

I was reminded 

I was awakened 

I felt

I desired 

I was real 

During that entire moment

I was real

I was alive 

And then it was over

you get what you deserve

When you're stupid

You suffer the consequences 

End up alone 

Withdrawn 

A reminder 

Of reality 

Life hits you in the face 

You are stupid 

Ask for trouble 

Self inflicted pain 

No one else's fault 

But your own 

Cement your own destiny 

Define what your life 

Has become 

You are stupid 

Stupid 

Stupid stupid

Unworthy 

You deserve nothing 

Pain and suffering 

Brought on yourself 

You will never 

Be happy 

Never be loved 

Never be appreciated

You don't deserve 

Deserve nothing 

Only pain and misery 

Self destruction

Sadness cloaked in numbness 

Pain hidden in avoidance 

Disappointment hidden in a smile 

You get what you deserve 

Lie in the bed you make

Buried in the grave you dig 

No wonder he left 

Everyone left 

Everyone leaves 

Because you don't deserve 

You are unworthy 

You are stupid 

He deserves better 

Better than you 

Because you are a failure 

You are bad 

You deserve to be

Abandoned 

Left 

Hated 

Neglected 

You are stupid 

One day 

Death will be welcomed 

A final peace 

Quiet 

Silence of the mind

Pain free 

Stupid free 

Life free 

You are stupid 

Stupid

You get what you deserve 

The end 

A Worthy Self

Here's where I stand. I'm Confused. And yes, I'm going to make this about me. This is about me. This is my life. I'm the only one who has my back. There is no one else looking out for me. I have to take care of myself. Call me selfish if you want. I don't care. It doesn't bother me. I'll accept that label. I deserve to be selfish. I have never chosen myself. I have always chosen everyone else. I have lived my life choosing everyone else. And I have put myself aside. I have never been important. But if I have learned anything in the last few years it's that I matter. That I am important. Just as much as everyone else. If not more.

It's my time. I have to choose me. If I don't make myself important, I won't survive much longer. I won't make it through this life. I will continue to feel broken and bruised. And I deserve better. I deserve. I am worthy. I matter. So I choose me. I must protect myself and make smart decisions.

I choose to do the right thing. I choose to be a good person. I choose to be alive. I choose to continue to fight. To fight to be happy. To function. And not let this life I've been handed knock me down. I choose not to drown in my misery. I'm choosing me. I choose to look forward. To have a future. Because I deserve everything. I deserve it all. I am worthy. I matter.

And I will put myself first one day. And maybe today is that day. This moment. Right now. I take the first step. And one day, hopefully soon, I will be loved for me. I will be accepted and appreciated. For me. Someone will know me and accept me. Me. For who I am. I will be cherished. And desired. Treasured. I will be special. I will matter to someone else.

It won't be a fairy tale and it won't be a happily ever after. It will be imperfect. But it will be my imperfect. A life for me. It will be my life. Because I matter. And I deserve. I deserve great things. And somewhere deep inside, I believe. I believe in goodness. I believe I deserve. I believe that good can happen. It can happen to me too. Because I am worthy. I matter.

So I choose me. I am taking a stand. I am doing the right thing. No matter how difficult. This is my life. And I will not watch it pass me by. I will not be a passive passerby. I will participate. And live this life the best way I can. The only way I know how. I will make smart choices. And I will get up when I fall. I will not let mistakes swallow me. I will stand up and dust myself off. And I will continue on. I choose me.

Quotes

“Courage isn't having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don't have strength.” ― Napoleon

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”   ― Frederick Douglass

“We acquire the strength we have overcome.”― Ralph Waldo Emerson

 “You are never strong enough that you don't need help.” ― César Chávez

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.”   ― Robert Frost

“My Life is My Message” ― Mahatma Gandhi

“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn”   ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

“It's time to start living the life you've imagined.” ― Henry James

“To those who are given much, much is expected.”  ― Maya Angelou

“Your success and happiness lie in you.”   ― Helen Keller

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” ― Mae West

“In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.” ― Robert Frost

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”  ― Dr. Seuss

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”  ― Virginia Woolf

“Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.”   ― Albert Camus

“First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, and then you win.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

tell me why

Alone again. A constant thought. The house is empty. Just me and my dad. Seems so familiar. Like we've done this before. The past is revisiting. Dejavu. Takes me back to a few lifetimes ago. When it was just me and him against the world. Fighting to survive. Fighting to function. Mother unwell. Once again. Me the only child. I lay in my bed. I listen to him talk on the phone. Call after call. Lots of concerned people. Calls to lawyers. Calls to insurance companies. Even a painful call to the funeral home. Gotta be prepared. Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst. What is this life. How did we deserve this. What are we supposed to do. How are we expected to function. To survive. Why. She's in a locked ward. Old, decrepid people surround her. She is the youngest by many years. Someone please explain to me what's happened. How is this my life. Where is the happiness and joy. Where is the youth and the energy. Where is love. Contentment. Peace. Tell me where. Where is the family. How can I feel like an empty nester and I have never even given  birth to a child. Tell me how. How is this my life. Don't I deserve better. Don't I. Is there anything left of this life for me. What about me. What will happen. How will I survive. How will I make it through. How will I pull through this life. How. Tell me.

Suffocate me

I've scratched my legs so much, they're covered in scabs. My thighs are covered in bruises. My anxiety is getting the best of me. My mind has taken over. Thoughts control my life. The past suffocates me. People overwhelm me. I'm alone. Always alone. I'm sinking. The life boat is out of reach. I'm sick of swimming. My whole body hurts. My mind aches. I'm so tired. I need a vacation. From life. From myself. I want to be left alone. I want someone to hold me. Someone to notice. Someone to care. Please take this burden off my back. It's weighing me down. It's killing me. Slowly. Not quickly enough. I'm so tired. All alone. Always all alone. Love doesn't exist. Not accessible for everyone. Unattainable for me. Destined for misery. Pain and loneliness. Sadness. Numb without emotion. Alone. Strong for the world. Weak in my heart. Failure. Alone.

Say my Name

It's not often I feel euphoric. Is that even a word? It's been a stressful and long week. I haven't been sleeping. I have no appetite. I'm overwhelmed and possibly numb.

But tonight. For the first time in a long time. There was a spark. A glimpse. One tiny rainbow. She said my name. Some sort of recognition. I was remembered. Known. 

Many people have told me in the past that I lack proper respect. That I don't follow the laws of kibbud av v'em. The concept has aggravated me for years. Most people don't even know the meaning of respect. Of honoring ones parents. Most people have never been through what I have been through. 

Earlier, I went to the hospital. I forced her into the shower. She was screaming and fighting me. That's when she yelled my name. I was so happy. It was the first time. And then once the hot water was hitting her body, she was so calm and peaceful. She was so grateful. I cleaned her and washed her hair. I shaved the side of her hair so her cochlears won't fall off. Then I dried her off, put a diaper and hospital gown on. I took her back to bed and tucked her in.

That is my definition of respect. That is my duty and job as her daughter. This is my life. My responsibility. You can't understand. You can't relate. You can't judge me. You have no idea. You don't even know the half of it.

This is reality. 

Like the movies

You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. 

When everything feels like the movies. 

You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive. You bleed just to know you're alive.

Motherfree

She's back in the emergency room

Thinks the year is 1973

Not sure what happened then 

Why that sticks in her mind

She thinks she's at "zaidy's house"

We don't have a zaidy 

He rushes to her side 

Once again

Just like always

Everything gets dropped

She is his first priority 

I have wished her dead

Gone from my life 

I have cursed her

I picture availus

Mourning 

Motherfree

I am a bad person 

Good Shabbos

Grant Me One Hour

Yesterday was a crappy day. I was overtired. I haven't been sleeping. I was cranky. I felt alone. I felt betrayed. I felt used. I felt hopeless. I felt neglected. I felt withdrawal. I was reminded of where I am and who I am. Of what I have done. I received a large bill. Again. I was told I need another MRI. Need to go to a new neurosurgeon. 30 Page questionnaire. I had blasts of memory. Pangs of emotion.

And yet I felt nothing.

I decided to change my mood and went to the nursing home to visit my Bubby. Without fail, she always manages to lift my spirits. She is truly the happiest person I know. Bli Ayin Hara, at 104 years, she exemplifies how to live. She hasn't just been alive. She has lived. She is my role model. My hero. I wish I could be just like her. (Although I don't want to live that long) She sits at her table with all her friends around her. Each person is a "personality." There's Mrs. S., who speaks 8 languages and lived in Bnei Brak. So we always chat in Hebrew. She never likes the food served and can always be found snacking on crackers, when no one is looking. Yesterday, Mrs. S. was combing through People Magazine. Bubby glances at the magazine and rolls her eyes. There's Gigi, who is the "teenager" of the group. Her thick Russian accent always cracks me up. She always talks about the past and all the different countries she has lived in. She always wheels herself over to see if Bubby has eaten anything. She is currently annoyed that the hairdresser butchered her hair. Then there's the men's table. They keep to themselves mostly. Coming over once in a while to say hello, or just wink from across the room. They all light up when I walk in the room.

Bubby has lived a beautiful and meaningful life. I am petrified for her not to be around anymore. I know that it will happen eventually. But I am not ready to give her up. She is the only person I feel truly happy around. She sees through me. She sees my core. And loves me for who I am. No matter what. Ok, maybe she hates my nail polish. But she thinks I am absolutely beautiful. She loves everything I am. And she makes sure to tell me how wonderful I am. Over and over again. She always plays with my hair. She thinks my hair is stunning. Or as she says "wonderful." In her eyes, I am perfect. I am special. I am beautiful. The truth that I see all fades away. For an hour, I believe her. I feel like that person she sees. For an hour, I am happy. At peace.

But then it's time to leave. And reality hits as the automatic doors open. Back into the freezing cold world. Back to my real life. Back to the person I was an hour before.

Question Mark

I read through old blog posts and I wonder if I've changed. Am I still the same bitter, angry person. Am I that lonely girl. Am I still drowning in the past. Unable to move forward. Have I accomplished anything.

This is the longest I have gone without physical affection since I was 17. Almost two whole touch free years. Choosing to keep my distance. For what purpose. A protection? A wall built up. Once again. And where has that gotten me. 

Have I purified myself. Become holier than thou. Made better decisions. Have I become happier. More content. Or just suffered in my loneliness. Adjusted to my pain. Accepted my reality. Who have I become. 

Second Chance

Are people capable of change

Do you give someone a chance

Or hold them at fault for the past 

When they could hold you to the same standard 

Does giving them a chance 

Mean you are desperate 

Make you pathetic 

Is there such a thing as fate 

Coincidence 

Does god send such clear messages 

Do people deserve second chances 

Is the potential worth it

Despite the unknown 

Is this a reward

Or a tease

Perhaps just a punishment 

Should credit be given

For persistency 

And patience 

Am I thinking too much into this

Stupid

Doing stupid things
Gives you stupid feelings
Unnecessary feelings
Then you suffer the consequences
Of your actions
Your thoughts
Behaviors
You suffer
Because of your own stupidity
You are stupid

Hesped

Crying my eyes out

Watching a hesped 

Of a husband 

Mourning the loss

Of his 24 year old wife 

Mother of his 

5 month old child

Taken away suddenly

There are no answers

No reasons 

It's always the good ones

That get taken 

Far too early 

Snatched from this earth 

No time to say goodbye

Her child is motherless 

Her sister is now an only child

Parents have lost a daughter 

The world 

Is an emptier place 

A pure soul

Has been taken back to its creator

Leaving a massive gap

A tremendous hole

Horrible Sadness....

Such terrible tragedies going on around me. People who I know well are suffering and in pain. Death and pain all around. Babies born out of wedlock. What is this world coming to? I can't take my mind of these things. So much sadness. Horrible sadness.

A girl my age dies after years of suffering from cancer. Gets sent home from the hospital to Hospice. Sent home to die. But then she dies. She was only 27 years old. Leaving behind a loving husband, family, friends. She was a kind and sweet person. Gentle. Pure.

A friend posts on Facebook yesterday that she regrets to let everyone know that her dear sister has passed away. A younger sister. Mother of a four month old. Dead. Leaves behind a husband. A family. A baby. A motherless baby. My friend has to bury her sister. Her younger sister.

A girl I went to high school with just had a baby with her Mexican boyfriend. Her boyfriend that she works at the local pizza store with. The newborn already looks Mexican. The mother is a blond haired, blue eyed Jew. Her child will have no nachala (portion in Israel). Who gives this child a bris? This girl was adopted as a small child. Her parents gave her everything. For what?

What has happened to the world. Or was it always like this. Miserable. Horrid. Where is the light at the end of the tunnel? Where is the silver lining? Tell me. Where?

Intervention Here We Come

Driving through the snow tonight, I was so moved by how beautiful my surroundings were. The white is so pure and innocent. Untouched by little hands or cars turning it to mud. No plows have ventured out yet. Still calm and peaceful. Slowly covering each car. Trees turning into these stunning magical, almost other worldly creations.

And in all this beauty that surrounded me, all I could think about is the ugliness that exists in this world. Darkness that resides in my world. My life. The home that I have always run from and continue to come back to. The threatening and painful environment. Where the only safe haven is my bedroom. The only person who loves me selflessly is my baby sister. My ally. My only support system. 

This week was an interesting one. And it seems it will only get more interesting. Monday, I went to a new neurologist. Turns out my shunt is doing fine. Just need another x-Ray to be certain. Tuesday, I went to my regular doctor. He is concerned about the weak pulse in my feet. Yay. Possible side effect of diabetes. Yay. But that's my hypochondria setting in. Waiting for blood work. 

That night, after dinner with friends and my shiur, I went to speak to a woman who is "close" to our family. She's on the "A Team", aka "team Ma", or just the people who help out, volunteer and run our lives. She has been meeting with each person in my family to better understand their take on the current situation. After telling her my thoughts, I blurted out that I think an intervention would be the best idea. 

Yeah, so guess what. She called tonight and said that there's going to be a "meeting" on Saturday night with all the main people on the "A Team" including us two girls and my father. Umm huh? What? People are getting involved? There might be an end to this madness? Normalcy might resume? Things are about to get interesting. That's for sure. 

Bring It

The first day of the year 2014. How can I say more? That statement itself is crazy enough.

I honestly never thought I would make it to this year. More like I couldn't picture myself living this long. Or what my life would look like. And here I sit, very much the same. Unchanged. Same location. Same space. Maybe a few (or rather, a lot) more experiences. But I am still the same me. 

It's common to make resolutions on a day like today. People like new beginnings to start fresh. Make wiser decisions. Lose weight. Save money. Be a nicer person. 

But I'll make no such resolutions. Because the minute you set aside a goal, you are destined to quit. To fail. And the things I would like to accomplish are going to happen this year. I will not write them down. Nor will I tell anyone. They will be my secrets. And when I succeed, no one will know. It will be a surprise to us all. Me included. 

So once again, I welcome the new year with open arms. New beginnings will not phase me. I am strong. Bring it on.