prisoner of insomnia

All day my feet trudge heavy across cement walkways, exhaustion bearing down upon my shoulders. I long for sleep, for the comfort of my bed, for a few precious hours to escape the chaos of daily life and get lost in dreams of snow-covered mountains and nights sitting fireside with a good book and red wine. I catch sight of myself in a mirror and the dark circles beneath my eyes glare back at me, begging for sleep, for rest, for peace. But as the day continues, as the sun sets and the darkness settles in, sleep becomes a long-lost friend whom I cannot seem to find. Perhaps it is the quiet of the night, the silence that surrounds me, bringing momentary glimpses of tomorrow. Perhaps it is the only time that I can justifiably allow myself to put away the textbooks, to forget the reports, to let go of the worries that daylight brings. Or perhaps it is a rising fear or loneliness or the endless spinning cycles of my thoughts. Whatever it is, when night falls and the sky becomes an ebony blanket, my body refuses to rest. My mind refuses to surrender to the serenity of sleep. And I am left here alone with too many thoughts, too many worries, and the knowledge that yet another day will greet me before I am ready to awaken.

the moment that makes it all worthwhile...

The celebration of the holidays has officially begun. I awoke this morning with ambivalent feelings about this journey. Part of me felt scared, terrified that the afternoon would greet me with icy tension, the witnessing of cruelty, and the prospect of figuring out how to survive the next two days. The other part of me felt excited, hopeful, and grateful for this time with family. After receiving a wonderfully unexpected phone call, I could not stop myself from smiling, the hope overwhelming the fears. And so my day began with a determination to remain positive, to let go of the pent-up anger and disappointments, withhold the tears and just enjoy the moments for what they may bring.

The drive was pleasant, Christmas carols and old country favorites accompanying me down back country roads. Pulling up to the weathered farmhouse, I was greeted by the sight of my daddy swinging on the porch, the same swing I sat in on so many other Thanksgivings eagerly awaiting the arrival of my aunt. It was a familiar sight, a comforting sight. My mama and aunt were talking on the porch, my sister pacing a bit and looking bored. Nevertheless, it was a nice welcome for my arrival.

As the afternoon continued, the tensions did rise. A few arguments ensued, though they were relatively mild compared to the screaming matches these walls have heard before. But still, the feeling of gratitude was absent, the excitement of the holidays bypassing the family around me, my family. Perhaps it was the vacant look in my grandmama’s eyes as she sat, lost in the television and her own internal world of pain. Perhaps it was the obnoxious bellowing that rang from my grandfather’s recliner, where he insisted on placing blame on anyone other than himself. Or perhaps it was just my own awareness that the people in my midst have been fighting this battle far too long…the will to push through the anger is no longer there. All I could feel was a lingering sense of apathy and an underlying sadness.

But the day was not all bad. Even in the resignation, we found a few moments tonight to laugh and joke and smile. As we tucked my grandmama into bed and snuggled her tight into the covers, a lifetime of misery faded from her face and her eyes lit up with the love encircling her. With my own mama and sister standing by her bedside and my aunt and I snuggled in next to her, my grandmama laughed for the first time I remember in many, many years. She smiled as I held her hands in mine, gently stroking her delicate skin. The tears glistened in her eyes when I asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she responded by saying “just my girls”. Four grown women, but we are all still her “precious girls”. It was hard in that moment to hold back my own tears, to keep the smile on my face. But in that moment, it no longer mattered how difficult the holidays may be. The anxieties and fears faded, and in that moment, my grandmother’s happiness made every second of this holiday season more than worth any pain that may come.

Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and return to that old house in the countryside. I will enjoy a special holiday with my family and I will thank God for my grandmama’s laugh, for her smile, and for her tears of love.

hesitation...and finding moments of gratitude

I’ve hesitated to write this week. Holidays always bring up so many emotions, some good, some not so good. The emotions are heightened this year even more than usual. A farmhouse in rural Georgia, three generations of women, all wounded by the same man. Trying to find forgiveness in my heart, praying that he will find even a fragment of love within his own. Knowing that this will likely be the last Thanksgiving that my grandmama is alive, already the images of her frail and bruised body bringing a rush of tears.

I’ve hesitated to write, not knowing what words might come, if any words would come. Preferring to live in denial, to stay too busy to feel the weight of a damaged family, too scared to imagine once again walking across creaky floors and witnessing too many broken hearts.

I’ve hesitated to write, just as I’ve hesitated to allow myself to feel the emotions churning beneath the surface. I’ve hesitated out of fear that these words are merely a repetition of previous words, previous fears. And yet those fears never fade, never vanish. They will live in this family as long as he lives and breathes.

I’ve hesitated to write, and yet I need to write. I’ve been needing to write, and thankfully I’ve had a very precious friend who’s been listening for the past week. Such a light in the darkness for me; her prayers bring me comfort and the knowledge that the inner strength of each of us will carry us through these days. And so the journey begins tomorrow. A journey not so long, but so incredibly trying. Reminders to take deep breaths, and the knowledge that there are people in this world that understand…these reminders, this knowledge, will stay in my heart on this journey.

And so I’m letting go of the hesitation and the denial. Just as this journey is already producing a welling up of frightening emotions, so also will it bring moments of beauty and love. Moments of gratitude for the strength of my mama, the love of my daddy, the tolerance of my sister, the affection of my aunt. Gratitude for new friends and old ones, for memories made and those yet to be made. Gratitude for the moments when I am able to hold my grandmama’s hands in mine, gently touch her face, and remind her that my love for her goes beyond this world. Gratitude that God has truly blessed me indeed.

This week will bring moments of fear and anxiety, but it will also bring moments of gratitude. And those moments of gratitude are the essence of Thanksgiving.

May each of you have a blessed week and feel your own moments of gratitude.

Sunday Scribblings..."I don't want to be a passenger in my own life."

“I don’t want to be a passenger in my own life.” – Diane Ackerman

For many years, I was perfectly content, even relieved, to sit back and release the control and direction of my life to others. I found comfort in relinquishing personal responsibility and allowing someone else to take charge. The decisions, and consequences, no longer rested heavy upon my shoulders. I had no need to take care of myself as my trust and faith lay completely in those around me. When life reared its ugly head, I was comforted with the knowledge and acceptance that the driver would maneuver me to a place of safety. The more time that passed, the more control I relinquished to others, the less I trusted myself and the less I knew the boundary between my own life and those that were carrying me along for the ride.

In many ways, it was a comfortable way to live. It was the easy way. It was the only way I knew. Eventually, and gradually, I came to realize that life is not always easy and finding the most comfortable way is only guaranteed to impede any personal growth. I was told I was weak and I accepted my weakness without much thought. It seemed predetermined that I was too fragile a human being to traverse the path of life alone; I needed a driver and I was destined to be the passenger.

Years later, I look back on those times with mixed emotions. At times, I think back and long for the comfort of reassurances that “everything will be okay”. But I also look back and realize that where I stand today, and who I am today, is far better than being just “a passenger in my own life”. The journey is much harder now, the terrain much more treacherous at times. I no longer take the easy route, depending on others to guide me toward that illusory pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. In fact, it is often difficult to even see the rainbow these days. But when the rain stops and the clouds move away, when I look up and see the rainbow at the end of the storm, I know that the beauty I see is because I have chosen to look up and see it. I am no longer dictated by the direction of others, no longer dependant upon the reassurance that “everything will be okay”. The truth of life is that everything will not always be okay, but through the struggles, I will become stronger and in the end, I will be okay.

I like to be the driver these days. It’s frustrating and confusing and overwhelming at times, especially when the traffic is bad. But in each of the difficult moments, I remind myself that I am not a weak person and I grow a little bit more. Through frustration, I learn patience. Through confusion, I learn to seek clarity, to take chances, and to have faith in myself. And in those overwhelming moments, I learn that my own strength is far greater than I ever knew. Strength and hope and determination are the passengers that now accompany me. I am happy to no longer be “a passenger in my own life”.

taking chances or living with regret

Life is all about taking chances. That leap of faith into the unknown. It terrifies us all, but where will we ever go in life if we don’t take a chance. The hardest part is finding a balance, knowing when to take the chance and when to take a step back. Knowing when to keep pushing forward in persistence versus when to just let go. It’s a balance of head and heart, of thoughts and feelings, of doing what’s “right” or doing what you “want/need” to do. It’s about not taking a chance and living with the regret that you’ll never know what might have been. Or taking the chance, risking it all, truly living life, and then accepting the often difficult path where that chance may lead.

When I look back on my own life, I see many choices that some may say were poor decisions. I do not regret a single one of those decisions. They have all taught me lessons, guided me along this journey to where I now stand. And without making those choices, without taking those chances, my life would be consumed by too many “what if’s”. The only regrets I have are the times I didn’t take a chance, the times I felt something and turned my back on those feelings, the times I fought all instinct and never took that leap of faith. It is those times, and those times only, that I regret.

Can you live with the knowledge that you have taken a chance, regardless of its consequences? Or can you live the rest of your life wondering “what if”? Can you live without taking that chance?

words of truth...a reminder of discovery

“I truly believe that love is the discovery of ourselves in someone else and the delight that follows in the recognition.” – JBK

There are some friends in this world that we see on a daily basis, enduring together the daily grind of life. Then there are those friends that we see on occasion, greeting one another with open arms and lifted spirits, ready to embark on a new journey, memories in tow. And then there are those friends, much rarer but much more precious, whom we may not see for months or even years. But when we meet again, face to face, it is impossible to understand how we have existed for such a time without the other. Those friends who carry a piece of our hearts with them at all times; those friends we carry in our hearts with each step.

It was one of these friends that I saw for the first time in nine months only a few days ago. It was that same friend that wrote the beautiful quote above, words that ring with truth and wisdom. Standing under ancient oak trees, the wind chilling on a southern afternoon, no words were needed. It did not matter what we said to one another, nor did it matter what our lives have entailed in the time we were apart. In that moment, under those old oak trees, nothing mattered other than a look of knowing, of understanding, of acceptance. Nothing mattered other than the reminder of the true value inherent in a friendship of this kind.

Nothing mattered other than the discovery of a piece of ourselves in the other and the delight that followed in that recognition.

about my weekend...inspired by "morning"

I was out of town this past weekend, visiting my best friend for another baby shower. I spent the weekend immersed among her family, finding an unexpected comfort and feeling of belonging.

Before I left the city on Friday, I read the topic for Sunday Scribblings and the prompt stayed with me throughout the weekend. Though I had no time to just sit down and write, I kept being reminded of the prompt and writing blogs in my head about “morning”. Especially the last night, in the wee early hours of morning, when the rest of the family had long since gone to sleep and it was just my best friend and I snuggled on the couch. So many words came to me in those moments, words about the transition from night to morning and the beauty of a world gone silent. Later that night/morning, I walked outside and again the words began to flow within my head. Words about the serenity of standing under an endless sky in the country. Words about twinkling stars that shine so bright it is actually possible to see the constellations. Words about so many memories I have from my own time in that rural town. And really, so few of those words had anything to do with “morning” but that prompt was what kept the words spilling over in my mind.

And so now here it is on Monday morning, a full week of school and work that lies before me. It is morning and yet I have no inspiration to write on the prompt of “morning”. And so I am just writing today, attempting to write the words that came so easily over the weekend. Releasing the words that have been longing for escape into the world, onto the paper, out of the confines of just me.

I was overcome with awe nearly the whole weekend. Driving down a country road, the sun beaming down, bleaching the tiny white puffs of cotton in the fields on either side of the road. Standing by a small pond just outside my best friend’s house, the reflections on the water reminding me of the passing of years and the beauty of our aging. The silence under a black night sky, a refreshing, soothing change from the constant noise of the city.

All weekend, I found myself being taken back in time only to be quickly returned to the present. A timeline of memories captured in photographs…the transition from reckless youth to marriage and real jobs and now babies. Pictures from the early days of our friendship, road trips every weekend, late nights at bars. Pictures from engagements and bridal showers. Pictures of her in a stunning white gown, me in a long black satin dress, our arms tight around one another. Five years later…and now pictures of our hands intertwined across her belly, a precious baby girl almost ready to enter the world.

The feelings seem impossible to describe. Overcome with emotions, the tears of joy and love welling in my eyes so frequently these days. It has always been difficult to describe our friendship to others. A connection so deep that it crosses all boundaries, traverses all bridges, seeps down past the heart and into the very core of the soul. Since the early days, we always knew we were soul mates. And now I feel the deepest connection to her unborn daughter, an extension of the connection that she and I will always share. And so as I sit next to her, my hands feeling the movement of this tiny baby girl, it is an unreal experience for me. Love brimming over as I remind them both that I am always here and will always love them.

It was so hard to leave yesterday, knowing that when I return, that baby girl will be coming into the world. As I pulled away from her house and drove towards the interstate, I could not stop the tears from falling. Tears of nostalgia, tears of anticipation, tears of joy. More than anything, tears of love. And even now, as I sit here on this Monday morning, with a full week of daily life awaiting me, the tears are here. Basking in years of memories and the love of a beautiful friendship, I will go out into the world today and do what needs to be done. But in every step I take, I will allow myself to be reminded of beauty, friendship, and love.