Mourning

The Jewish mourning process is supposedly set up to help people mourn in stages. Five stages from what I've read in all those miserable books. Filled with rules and laws that no real human can follow. Maybe guidelines or traditions. Who knows.

The first stage is called ANINUT (or aninus for the Ashkenazic Americans). One who is in this in-between stage is called an ONEN. This person is free of all positive commandments. The law was established with the knowledge that all focus should be on the immediate death. I was in ONEN status for six hours.

It's not easy to get that call. And I have gotten it a few times over the years. The "you need to come now" call. And every time, I fly to the nursing home or hospital. Wherever we are spending our lives during those days. Driving like a maniac. Wondering is this it. Do I turn off the music. Do I run home and cut my nails. And, yeah, sometimes it was pretty scary. Walking into a hospital room. My family surrounding a large bed. With a very small person. My mother gasping for air.

But she has always made it through.

Except this time.

This was it. The final call. The call you think you have been preparing for your whole life. But when it comes. Total shock. Denial. Flying down the streets one last time. Maybe it is a false alarm. Maybe you misheard. Doubting your own ears. Your own comprehension. But you did hear it clearly. "Come now. Come now. Your mother is not doing well. You need to come now." And then within a few seconds, "she's very cold. She's dead." How can one deny such definitive words.

I entered the room and my mother was no longer. She was cold and grey. Her trach was disconnected. A gaping hole by her neck. Her eyes were slightly open. Limbs no longer stiff. Machines still beeping in the room. Feeding tubes and IV’s reaching to the floor. No longer attached. My father sitting by her side. Holding her hand. Crying silently.

My usual composure shattered. My cries uncontained. Sobbing. My mother died. My mother is dead. She lays before me but she is not there. I am motherless. I am an orphan. Have I willed this. This is what I always wanted. Freedom. From pain. For her. For me. Freedom from responsibility. So then why wasn't I ready. Why the intense shock. The overwhelming pain. How could I feel so alone. When she hasn't really been here for a long time. Maybe never.

Rabbi comes in and says we need to cover her. It's time. I scream and yell how I am not ready. I touch her feet. Something that she has always hated. Earlier years complaining. Recent years a grimace on her face. I stroke her face. Kiss her cheeks. There is no soul inside this hollow body. My mother died. My mother is dead.

We plan the funeral for later the same day. Allowing just enough time for family to come in from New York. The funeral home comes to wheel my mother's body out. All the doors are closed. We follow in sorrow. The tears just won't stop. At home, I shower and cut my nails. Not knowing when I will do them next. I sit on my bed to write my eulogy. Still regretting not speaking at Bubby's funeral. I will speak no matter how hard. No matter how painful.

At the funeral home, my siblings and family finally arrive. Thirty minutes after the service was supposed to begin. We all follow the casket. Of my dead mother. We enter a room filled with people. No seats left. People standing in every space available. No spare room to be found. In a box. In the front of the room. A large box. Way too big. My mother is dead. Inside this casket. A golden star of David on a blue cloth. Inside is my mother. My mother died. My mother is dead.

At the cemetery. We must rush. Have to beat the clock. Make it before the day becomes tomorrow. Lots of Rabbinic advisement. A rush job. Get the box in the ground. Cover it as fast as possible. So many people surrounding. All happening so fast. And then my brother says Kadish. For the first time. Something that he will have to say three times a day for the next year. Mourning publicly in front of a gathering of ten men. A minyan. Never to be missed. The mourners are ushered through two lines of people. One for the men and one for the women. And then we sit on the ground. Take off our shoes. We are officially in stage two.

The second stage includes the first three days of SHIVA, which immediately follow the burial. In an uncommon way. We started our Shiva at the cemetery. So as not to miss a minute. Delaying would cost us to sit Shiva another day. As we approach my father's house. Formerly my parents’ house, people are already on the porch. Waiting to comfort us. The mourners.

The point of this second stage is to allow mourners to experience their grief. Humans need time to be angry. To feel their feelings. Whatever they are. With no one to dictate how to behave. Mirrors are covered. Low chairs around the house. Hands to be washed. Washing away impurity. An egg to be eaten with bread. Symbolizing the circle of life. Perhaps. And in our case, due to the upcoming holiday, Shiva will only be during those three days. People will come in droves throughout the day. To comfort. Some to listen. Many to speak about themselves and their own pain or loss.

From early morning until late at night. I sat in that low chair. And I felt nothing. Empty. I laughed with some. But I could not remember any good memories to share. The disappointment in the picture painted of my mother. The careless things people said. The constant "well meaners." And yes. There were some who made a difference. But mostly numb. Until the night. When the house emptied out. When we laid in our beds. And we cried. I cried into my pillow. I sobbed. My mother died. My mother is dead. I will never see her again. I wasn't there enough. Who am I now. Without her.

The third stage is the reminder of the SHIVA. Literally translated as "seven." Referring to the seven days. This was more of a quiet stage for us. Unimaginable if we had to sit for an actual seven days.

The fourth stage of mourning is called the SHLOSHIM. Literally translated as "thirty". This stage refers to the thirty days from the burial on. Including both the second and third stage. I am now in Shloshim. The laws are not as strict as Shiva but they are still existent. Less joy. Less of everything. This numb feeling still overtaking.

And then she finally leaves. I am finally alone. After two intense weeks filled with people. I am back in my own place. My own bed. All I want to do is feel. So I open the link. And I watch the funeral. I cry out as if it is all fresh and new. It is fresh. I have not had a minute to feel anything. My mother died. My mother is dead. And now I am lost. I lay in my bed and I don't know what to do.

The fifth and supposed final stage is the year of mourning. It will be a long year ahead. Decisions to me made. Life to adjust to. New reality. New existence. Potential. Freedom.

Maybe the stages aren't so bad after all.

I was the Shabbat Imma in Gan. My mom always came. 

Bruised

I have been told by many recently that I should share what I am feeling. Not hold back. Playing the martyr. Adult. The one always in control. I'm afraid. Afraid that if I share, I will never survive. I will unleash this flood of tears that is suffocated so far down in my soul that I will not be able to stop. I will drown if I open up.

The truth is that I am bruised. Inside and out. My skin is black and blue. The staples go way deeper than my skin. They puncture my heart. Each metal piece cutting deeper and deeper until I am almost see-through. Non-existent.

I'm tired. Worn out. Beyond exhausted. Too much energy needed to pick up all the pieces. Again. Put everything back together. Function. Would you be surprised if this time I just can't. That I just want to give up. To be done.

Have I not lived long enough. Gone through it all. Put in my time. Why is thirty not considered a full life. I've given it all. I've lived. I'm tired. No more.

Whatever. That's it.

What Are You Waiting For

Don't ask me for an update. If you really cared, you would just show up. I know that you have your own life. Wrapped up in your own world.

So far away. Four whole hours.

But seriously.

It is really hard for me to be understanding. Stay open-minded and positive. Your occasional message checking in. What are you waiting for.

A funeral.

Because it will happen one day. And then what. What will you feel then. Will you regret. All those times you did not bother to come. Those precious moments that you missed.

You can still catch that brief smile of recognition. It's not too late. But the clock is ticking. Decline is happening. And you are not here.

What are you waiting for.

Waiting for that phone call.

The phone call that will change all of our lives. Alter reality as we know it. And then you will show up. And be sad.

Mourning.

For this tremendous loss you feel. But never actually took advantage of the time that you did have. And did not bother to come and make a difference. You left it up to others.

Us.

Always our responsibility. Burden. Pain. Privilege. To care for. And hold. To feed. And cheer up. A lifetime revolved around. Affected.

In the end. We will have very little regret. Will feel pride and comfort. That we did all we could.

Almost.

That we were there.

And you will come and it will be too late. You will drop everything and finally show up. And it will not matter anymore. Because you missed out. Your loss.

And while it will be a loss for us. We will be consoled that our faces were recognized. Hands squeezed. Occasional name uttered.

We were always there.

another goodbye

I guess I am at a loss for words because there is so much to say and yet it is all so difficult to verbalize. How can I really explain where I am coming from. What I am feeling. What my goals are. Does it even matter.

I have been thinking about this since your first email in January. And I decided to just ignore your attempts and hoped you would get "the message" and stop. But I guess my silence was not definitive enough. Left an open door. Or maybe just a window. And it seems like it was my subconscious way of not having to do anything. Of never actually making a decision. I know I am not making any sense. (My specialty.)

What I guess I should tell you is that I do wish I could have you in my life. But after we stopped talking in June, it was very hard. Very painful. But I understood. The reasons we had then - made sense. They were for the best. And I moved forward. And now you've sorta opened the possibility again and I  have kept weighing all the options. And nothing has changed. Well I have changed. I have changed my life. Made smarter choices. Real choices. I finally see a future. And I am working toward it. And, (here I will say it), while I really care for you, about you, (and don't shoot me - but miss you), it's not what's best for me. I need to live in reality. And there's no way you can be part of that. So, yes there are great memories. An insane connection. But this will just end badly again. We CANNOT give each other what the other needs. And that is the bottom line. There is no casual friendship in our cards. We are not capable of it. It will get heavy and then painful. Look how painful it is now.

I don't know if I am making any sense. And I told myself I would write a concise email. But I know that I owe you some detail. I don't hate you. Anything but. I want only what's best for you. And I only have good thoughts when it comes to you. So don't think that this decision came lightly. And that it's not hard for me. But in the end of the day, I have to choose myself. My future. And not something that might make me happy now. Instant gratification.

So my request is that you delete everything and let me go. That you understand where I am coming from. And respect my decision. Our decision. I'm sorry if this is not what you want to hear. It's not what I wish I had to say. It was all real and I remember too. But it is the past. And has to stay there.

Please.

Goodbye.

My Life

While going through old boxes in the back of my closet, I found a lot of shit. Dishes. Clothes. Scrapbooks. Albums. Pictures. Letters. Memories that had been packed away. Mostly forgotten. Not sure what got into me. Why the nostalgia need. Most definitely was a bad idea.

I can be vague here as is my norm. Or I can just be honest. Tell you that seeing those albums was painful. Although I laughed and fake-gagged at the time. I can say that I am over it. It's all the past and doesn't affect me. But that is not the truth. I did flip through those pictures. Glanced at the scrapbooks containing hundreds of letter. Handwritten love letters. Flashing back to another time. A time that was less complicated.

I saw myself. What outsiders saw. Religious. Observant. Following the rules. Whatever you want to call it. I was playing the part. Living the lifestyle.

I know now that it was all a facade. Waiting to crash at my feet. Living in a fantasy land. Surrounded by infatuation. Desire for a future. No understanding of the present. Of the facts in front me. Avoiding reality. All to live in delusion. A dream of what I wanted and not what was.

I gave up myself. I lost who I was. And I did it willingly. I followed a path that I didn't want. To fit in. To please everyone else. But I was not happy. I was controlled. Miserable. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I wasn't authentic.

And that's not who I am. Who I ever wanted to be. All I ever wanted to be. Unique. To be authentic. What you see is what you get. Not two-faced at all. Honest to a fault.

And now, although a lot has changed. It is not a bad thing. Looking at my face in those pictures, I see a lonely and sad girl. Standing at a distance from those around her.

Lost. Alone. Leading a life that is not her own. Trapped in a life she doesn't desire.

Today I am grateful. I feel lucky that I have myself back. That I am living my life. As I want to live it. And I won't take that freedom for granted. And I won't lie and say that it isn't hard. Doesn't get painful. The loneliness is definitely there under the surface. But I  no longer feel hopeless. Because my happiness and my life do not depend on you or anyone else. It's internal. My choice. My goals. My life.

My life.

Interference

It's not healthy for me. Don't you get it. Why would you even bother. Have I not made myself clear. I asked you to stop. In the nicest way possible. So please tell me why. Why would you even try. Do you think I wasn't serious. That I don't stick to my word. 

I don't need this. Reading old messages. Emails. Of a previous lifetime. Someone that wasn't me. That I never wanted to be. A trap that I fell into. Judging myself throughout. 

I've moved forward. Onward. I'm trying. But it's hard. All the time. Nothing comes easy. Nothing is simple. Blockades at every turn. The world desperately waiting to see me stumble. Fall flat on my face. Accomplishing nothing. 

I will not give in. Not to the pain. Not to the fear. No person will stand in my way. Not even myself. I will fight. And push through. No matter the cost. Or the loss. You will not be a problem. A tiny fleck of dust I have blown away. You and everyone else. No interference. Not a thing.

Eat your food. Don't wear it.

I've been watching this show. I don't know why but it kind of fascinates me. Each episode shows two points of view of the same story. The first half shows the man's story and the second half shows her version of what happened. They are wearing different clothes, the conversations are different. It is their own unique story.

It makes me think of life. Of how we interact with the world around us. People in our lives. We each walk around with a bubble surrounding us. We are each the center of our own world. And everyone else is playing a part in it. And there are billions of bubbles all trying to interact.

I recently had an experience where I should have followed my gut. I let people talk me into doing something that I knew deep inside that I didn't want to do. But for the good of the cause. Possibly for my future. I agreed. What a waste of time. I knew it wasn't right. But I went along with it. To make them happy. Not to be rude.

This is my bubble. And I know better than to ignore my gut. This was a wonderful reminder of what I want. And do not want. A reminder that I make my own decisions. Without unnecessary advice. Or influence. This is my story. I can be choosey about who I let in. And that is ok. There are no rules.

So heads up. I am not a bitch. And I am not quiet. I won't waste my time. I will speak if I find it necessary. And have fun when I feel comfortable. No one will put me in a box. Label me. Or force me into their bubble. This is my show. My world. And I will decide.

ok..but..yeah..so...well...

Ok.

I know I should be excited. Motivated. Energized to move forward. Take the next step. This is what I have been waiting for. Right? I do want to get married. In theory. Be in a relationship. Have someone to come home to. Cuddle with. A Shabbos table. Companionship. Love. Technically. I do want to look at that person and know we will grow old together.

But.

I am finally settled. In myself. Getting there with my life. Internally, I feel strong. Most of the time. I know what I want. I live how I want to live. No one calls the shots. No one controls me. I don't feel controlled. I feel quite free. I am not even shackled in myself. For the first time I can admit that I am breathing. Living. Enjoying.

Yeah.

I have my moments. When I am down. When I see no hope. When I can't move. But I no longer feel defined by those moments. That is all they are. Moments. They are not me. I am finally comfortable. Doing things that make me happy. Productive. Making smart decisions. Living in the present. Working towards the future.

So.

Why would I mess that up. Progress. Is it smart to rock the boat. Will holes appear in the deck? Water start pouring in. Sink. Will I sink all over again. Is this all fear talking. Fear of the unknown. Of difference. Being vulnerable. Opening up. Letting someone in. Am I so closed off from the past. That I cannot move forward. Or am I just cautious. Guarding my heart. My soul. My life.

Well.

Sometimes things come up. Life is unpredictable. And you gotta roll with the punches. Or else life passes you by. You blink and you miss something. You can't take a break from reality. You have to face it. Because you never know what you might be capable of.

Here goes nothing.

Organized Chaos

This blog is my diary. I can look back and see the last 5 years documented in ink. Organized chaos. I write when I am angry. Sad. Agitated. Introspective. When there is a big or momentous event coming up. Or passed. It's pretty rare for me to write when things are going ok. Status quo. And there are times like that. When I am managing in this life. Holding shit together. Not sure I would call it happy. Maybe satisfied. Surviving. And that may sound negative. But I (partially) mean it in a positive way.

I write to let things off my chest. Because most of the time I can not share what I really think with others. Choose not to. I write in a blunt manner. Say it how I see it. How I feel. But then there are times I can not be honest. I hide behind the words. Cryptic messages. Beat around the bush. Because even though you don't know me, I am still cautious. Sometimes scared to reveal myself. Rip off that outer layer. For fear of being recognized internally. Apprehensive of the vulnerability.

There are so many unfinished drafts. Of writing. Indicative of real life. The thoughts are there. They come at random times. Driving. In the shower. When I shut off technology for the night. That's when I'll come up with my best thought-processes. Begging to be written down. But somehow, the minute I sit in front of my computer and open the blog option on my phone. The inspiration evaporates. Disappears from my head. As if it was never there. And sometimes, I'll try to write. A sentence here or there. But it's filled with emptiness.

There are topics that I completely avoid writing about. Or I write in code. Sometimes they are places I would rather not dig through. Or situations I cannot analyze. Pretend they don't exist. Harmful or traumatic experiences. You would look at me and feel bad. And I can't bring myself to share.

But in truth I am doing all right. A close friend called me stable the other day. And I realized she was right. I have mainly conquered my demons. Made some smart choices. Leading a good and honest life. My emotions and feelings are under control. And I've realized that loyalty is most important when it is to myself. It's taken me almost thirty years, but I finally put me first. I matter.

It's possible I won't fast on Yom Kippur. I didn't last year. And I feel no guilt. I am doing what's best for me. And not letting religion or guilt dictate my life. Other people no longer control me. Nor does the fear of the unknown. People in the past may have always thought of me as controlling. But in truth, it was me who was controlled. I lived a caged life. Stuck. Hiding. And now I am done. I will live however I choose. In my own comfort zone. With no apologies.

So there.

secrets secrets are so fun

I have a confession to make
I like secrets
Privacy
Keeping things to myself
Not sharing with others
Certain others

Sometimes I even lie
To others
To their faces
And I say that I lie to myself
But that is not true
It's false

I am very honest with myself
Totally self-aware
Maybe too much
I know what I am doing
What I am feeling
What I want

I play a part
Wear a mask
A cape
To maintain an illusion
Make the world think one thing
When it is not necessarily true

I make decisions
Plans
Lead my life
Without input
Or advice
Without anyone knowing

I am who I am
Despite everything
And everyone
The walls
And blockades
In Spite of it all

Your advice is unwanted
Commentary can be hurtful
Words are unnecessary
Keep your thoughts to yourself
I am not interested
Makes no difference

So cheers to my secret
It is only mine
For me to screw up
Or possibly succeed
It's mine
My Secret

A Letter To My Sister

Dear D

I can’t believe that I am actually writing this letter. But here goes. You are finally 18. Finally going to Israel. Taking the next step in your life. You have waited for this for so long. Independence. Freedom.

There’s so much that I could tell you. But I don't really have the words. A long history. We both know. We were always so close. Fighting together. Side by side. Dealing with life. But things happens. And that’s part of life. It’s ok. It makes us stronger. And one day we'll look back and laugh. I know, no one ever likes to hear that but it’s partially true.

I hope you know that you can always count on me. That I'll always be here for you. A phone call away. And now a plane ride away. I'll always worry about you. And care about your wellbeing. I might say things you won’t like. But that’s what big sisters are for. Support. Love. I even pray for you. (And that’s saying something.) I want the best for you. I know you can do it. And I believe in you.

Here is my advice and wish for you:

You gotta believe in yourself…And not let things hold you back…Not your situation…And especially not people…Make sure to always surround yourself with happy people….Who will be a positive influence on you….And that you will be a positive influence on them….Make sure to be a loyal person….And always follow your gut….Your heart….You know what is right….Don’t let the past bring you down…Live in the present….Enjoy every moment….Because it will never happen again….Have a plan for the future….But don’t always wait for the next thing….You’ll miss out on the now….Get a good night sleep….That will make every day so much better…You will be a better, more stable person on a good night’s sleep….It’s ok to miss that late night conversation….Take every moment in Israel (in life) and soak it in….You will never have this opportunity again….Taste every food.…Take every class….Talk to every teacher….Go to every Shabbos experience….And go to a therapist….Tell him/her what you really feel….And work through things….Don’t hold back….This is your opportunity….Your chance….Don’t let it slip by…Before you blink, it will be over….And real life will hit you.

Just remember that you are strong. And kind. And that you can do anything you set your heart to. I will always be rooting for you. I am your big sister.

I love you very much. And I’ll miss you a lot.

Love,

R

The common denominator

Honestly. Yeah. It's obvious that you don't "get what that means." That I'm the crazy one. And yet, you are insensitive. Constantly insensitive. You have your life and I have mine. Right. And you all wonder why I stay away. Why I don't come around. Why I have secluded myself. Make it about you. So you're always the one who needs to be accommodated. What about everyone else. When do I ever factor in. Does it even occur to you. Have you even noticed me. My life. My lack of life. Do you even know what is happening. What I'm going through. Are you so wrapped up in your own life that you have no room to notice me.

I know I'm blowing this stupid, idiotic thing out of proportion. But it really bothers me. I feel like I'm always cutting people out of my life. And I know that it must be me that's the problem. I'm not delusional to think it's "everyone else." I know it's me. I know that I'm the common thread. The common denominator. I must be the difficult one. The problem. And yet I still feel that I've always been drawn to "difficult" people. That I can only connect with complex and complicated people. Others who have gone through challenges. And those that are basic and uncomplicated don't really last in my world. But then again, the difficult ones end up being pushed out. So who's left. 

I've learned a very important lesson in recent years. One that I wish I would have understood years ago. Friends and maybe even people are not a given. A definite. Forever. They do not last a lifetime. Or better yet, it's ok for them to not last a lifetime. That doesn't necessarily say bad about me. It says it's reality. People change. Situations change. Life happens. And holding on to the past is not the healthiest or wisest thing. It can be damaging. Crippling. So I've let go of a lot people. And for certain individuals, it's caused me a lot of pain and heartache. I've obsessed about it. Had many sleepless nights. Felt very alone. But truthfully, I'd rather be alone than feel drained from others. Maybe that makes me sound depressed or severely introverted. Call it what you like. It's a defense mechanism. It's how I cope with this reality. 

Problem with my way of life is that it's very empty and quiet. It's a self induced loneliness. No one to turn to. Talk to. Or hang out. No one to call me out on my stupidity or hang out with on a carefree day. It's an unwilling choice. I'm the one who limits myself. Creates this world that  I cannot live in or seem to escape from. I've crippled myself. 

It's a few hours before I turn one year older. And as usual, I have this feeling of doom. An underlying emotion of misery. What do I have to show for my life. Another year has passed. Nothing has changed. I have not moved. Haven't budged. Lost more people. Recreated the wall within myself. A blockade. An emotion-free life. No expectations. No feelings. Nothing. An emty shell. 

Happy Nothing-Day.

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.

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.

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.

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

Ownership

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. That you make your own bed and then must lie in it. That making rash decisions will have consequences. I know my actions (good or bad) throughout my life have led me to where I am today. I take ownership of my choices and decisions. I am aware. I am not walking blindly through life. I may not be living for the future but at least I am living in the present. I am experiencing the process. And I am always trying hard not to live in the past.