November 25, 2009

A Twisted Phoenix

A glimpse into my mind, my emotions and my so called whiplash causing mood swings. Parts of blogs from the past few weeks that I never posted. Enjoy~

{Nov 11, 2009}
In a recent conversation with my soul friend, she said "leave it to me to find someone as broken as I am". That statement left me cold. It made me wonder all over again, can two broken people be okay together? Can our brokenness cause a bond stronger than that of love born of whole hearts? Or must my broken heart find someone unhurt, unbroken, unblemished by pain. Must that be the man who will love me? Even scarier was the thought that followed can anyone love me, a being utterly broken? I was not able to love one of the strongest men I have ever known. My heart was seeking a close companion one who I could share the deepest darkest parts of me; to know I wasn't alone. His heart however was looking for a heart without scars, one that could boost his strength even higher. Through this I had decided I would need to find someone equally broken, someone to appreciate my scars and to cry with me. But since that day I haven't shed a single honest tear. Tears of anger and tears of joy, but never a tear of pain. I have subconsciously held onto the hope of finding someone who could understand true brokenness. But in the here and now,

I have come to find out that my broken knight can't also be my savior.


Here in the relative silence of my room I have allowed myself to consider what I really want. In that alternate universe my hearts desire is love. Not the love of poems or songs. The love exchanged in a simple smile between a couple bound together in marriage for over 70 years. It's a simple touch. And it is completely indescribable. But it can be seen, and I saw it in fullest extent this past weekend. I saw couples in there 90's so passionately in love it emanated from them. There's was the kind of love that continues to grow every moment. It was that beautifully simplistic love that I craved only a few blogs ago. I also saw the pain that is the consequence of loving someone with all you are. A woman who had lost her husband a few years ago. She faked a smile as she stared off in the distance slowly twisting the simple gold wedding band she still wore. I met couples whose love made my heart soar. Their example of commitment and loyalty gave marriage a good name. And then an older woman shuffled in. I don't know how the topic came up, but in a quiet ashamed voice she told me that her husband won't come to church with her. They had been married over 50 years and he never has. I knew that like me that was a matter of great importance, great hurt and great embarrassment. Even though it caused her heart to break every Sunday and all the days in between she had remained committed to her husband. I don't know that I have the strength to be in that situation. To love someone across a rift of that proportion? If there is any aspect of me that needs to be shared it is my love of Christ. I can't be that 80 year old woman standing in church whispering to the photographers assistant that my husband doesn't share the core of who I am. In the past months I thought I could do it, I thought I could find a way to cross that rift no matter what it took. And then I met a sweet 80 year old woman. I'll never doubt that my commitment to Christ is what matters first.

{November 14, 2009}

Tonight I am being forced to face my greatest fear. Tonight I have to face the man who took a hammer and chisel to my already fragile heart. The results were disastrous. I healed mentally many months ago. My heart had only begun to heal recently due to a woman who dared me to dream again, and a man who taught my heart to sing a less bitter song. And only days ago I admitted to myself and the world that my broken heart still longed for love. For the first time in this eternal year I took shakey steps in the right direction. I had passed my crossroads and made the right decision. Now I feel that I may very well fall again. For him, or because of him. I don't know which. If only I could predict my reaction I could prepare for the fall that is to result.


I never realize how very few people understand me until I desperately need a hug. A listening ear. When I reveal that my walls of indifference are cracking I only get a "you'll be fine! Show him what he's missing! Just pretend he doesn't exist!" I can pretend he doesn't exist just as well as I'm able to pretend that my heart doesn't wail. This is one aspect of life where intentions don't matter. (the same as in horse-shoes and hand grenades)

{November 15,2009)

I learned a lesson in those tumultuous hours, being over someone and not being in love with someone is not the same.

{unknown date}

I caught a few minutes of the Wizard of Oz today. I thought at first I'm a Modern Day Dorothy. All I want is home. And then I realized unlike Dorothy I don't want reality. I want the land of Oz. I truly identify with the Scarecrow. I have the best of intentions but don't have the "brains" to make good on that intention.

I point left, I point right. I point both ways. I nod my head. I shake my head. I see the yellow brick road stretching before all of us and I give the best of advice.

But when a dear friend simply asks "Why?" I honestly can't tell you.

{November 16, 2009}
There are a lot of little things in life that give me inexpressible joy. The feel of a horse warming up my fingertips in the dead of winter. A mug of hot apple cider on a chilly fall morning. A hoody that has the right size hood (no Goldilocks hoody's for me!) Fleur de lis anywhere and everywhere. My old worn out cowboy boots and new stilettos. The smell of rain and the feel of it running down my skin. Paintings of fairy's and unicorns. The smell of an old musty book. The crack of a new binding. Ball gowns and converse. Reading Sherlock Holmes and solving the mystery in the first few paragraphs (ok. so that happened once and was a total fluke). Trotting my gray horse through the snow.

There aren't as many "big" things, but are important all the same. I love when a song comes on that completely describes what I'm feeling. I may have heard it a 1000 times. Or it may be the same but nevertheless; it is powerful and humbling. All at the same time. Powerful in that

music confronts my emotions head on. Music makes me be honest.

Humbling in that I can no longer say no one understands, because at least one other person in the world does.

For a small space of time that songwriter and I are one and the same. Together we have a bond of understanding.


All of my big moments end in understanding. That's all I really want in life. To understand and to be understood. Or is it?

{unknown date}

I self sabotage. It's my ugly truth. When people get close I fly off the handle. I subconsciously hurt them. I run. I give them a glimpse of just how screwed up I really am. People say I can change. They offer their help. And I just give another scathing reply. You know why? I don't want to change. I don't want help. I like my brier patch of a heart. I like being numb in my anger. Most of all? I like being in control.

I like being a tease who has no intention of ever putting out. Emotionally. Physically. Underneath this cool and confident exterior is a raging soul. I'll show you a foretaste of the "real me". Then before you know it, I snatch it back.

I'll always give a second chance. But never a third. A narcissist? Yes. So deal with it.

Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me. But you'll never get the chance to fool me thrice.

The truth? The real me isn't worth knowing. The real me isn't worth loving. You can love me with all you have. You can try to help. You can wish with all you have that I will change. But my brier patch of a heart will never love you back like you deserve.

She thinks I'm attached? She has no idea how unattached I really am. I've known attachment. I've known love. On that warm August night, my lovers heart died. I don't attach. Not anymore.

Instead I'll sit in the background. I'll tease or taunt. You decide. Send me a signal and I'll be whatever girl you want for the night. I can be a drunken bar skank, or a pristine Virgin Mary. It's all up to you. Take what you want and leave what you don't want. But keep this in mind, you'll never know the real me. I have so much to offer, if you would have only asked for more. I can guarantee I'm more than you ever bargained for. And that's why you will never know anymore. But no worries, I'm not giving up. I'll still be whatever girl you want me to be. I'll be the best or worst thing that ever happened to you. I'll teach you all there is to know about hating and loving. Sometimes in that order. Sometimes not. Just ask me how I can play this part so well. I've experienced both to the fullest extent. I'll be your favorite lover or your greatest enemy. It's your choice. Just tell me what part I'm to play today.

Don't even try to predict me. I've always said that I'm a combination of everyone I have ever known. All you have to do is look at who I have been talking to recently. Stagnant. Deep. Afraid. There is no need to try to understand me when all you have to do is mold me into your personal Barbie.

So tell me. Whats it going to be? I'm tired of you changing your mind. Of you backpedaling. I'm done chasing down your heart. I can be your friend. I can be your crutch. I can be your love. I can even be your soul mate. But I can't be all four at once. At least not tonight.

And now... in this moment. I'm done. I'm back to running. I can find a new part to play. But I can't keep going on.

In the end I'm only a tease or a taunt.

You decide.

And that in a few paragraphs is the depth of me. My ugly truth. My absolute. And potentially, my greatest regret.

So I'm shutting those doors
I'm running away
Without a goodbye
And I'll never wonder why.

I'm opening my mind to my next persona.

{November 21,2009}

So many people disapprove of my emotions. I cry to hard. I laugh to loud. I scream to much. For years I've been told to just be quiet. To hide it. And now I have succeeded. Now those same people and some new; worry that I'm not the same. I have tried so desperately to not worry about peer pressure regarding my outward appearance; that I willingly opened the door to peer pressure regarding my heart. I listened to those voices. I stopped crying. My laughter rang hollow in my ears. And now my screams have taken up all the slack. I tried to be friendly and bubbly like Tori. I tried to be cold, calculating, unfeeling like Jared. And as of late I've become shallow and stagnant like him. At times I'm all three combined. Those are the days I watch my robot go and wonder who had it right.


I miss crying. There was something healing about those tears rushing down my face. A physical manifestation, a theophany of sorts, of the pain, the anguish, the anger and the deceit. Whatever the reason I learned something about myself and who I was through the tears. Perhaps that's why I don't know who I am anymore. I stopped learning even though I kept growing. My body and mind have grown past my heart. I've become the statue I've accused him of being. A stone cold reminder of sins and triumphs. As I write this I have this vision of a statue exploding and a bright real me arising from the rubble.

A twisted phoenix.

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