Storm Clouds

May the sunlight find your face, even when the rain does fall. And get back on your feet again every time you slip and fall. Keep your heart wide open and always taking in. And even when it’s broken, be strong enough to fix it again.

download.jpgEven at night I cannot find peace; dreams of things that leave me questioning everything. I wake up feeling ill, stomach acid burns painfully down my esophagus, my head pounding and my eyes heavy, begging for rest. Dreams that repeat themselves are of the ones I despise the most for I cannot understand, or figure out why this dream is haunting me. These dreams are always the most emotional, most upsetting.

Last night, after waking up with a stomach ache and needing a drink I fell back into a restless sleep; Dreams of being in a house, much like the one we lived in before this one. It was a mixture of 100 things and I couldn’t pin point a sinlogo-als-campaign-2013gle detail but that my dad was there. He looked like he did when he was young and healthy, before his illness took away so much. His hair was messy, his mustache was bushy and he was his standing, talking, cursing self, he was the person I grew up with. But, something was different, I knew what had happened. I knew that he was sick, and that magically he got ‘better’. His every move I watched like a hawk, unable to concentrate on anything because I was worried the disease would return. It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once. IMG_1648It was a dream because he was healthy, I got to ‘see’ him the way I knew him growing up, I got to see him smile and laugh and be himself. It was a nightmare because I was tormented knowing this wasn’t ‘real’. He was sitting at a table, in a house I’m unaware of, My dad was there, complaining that he had heartburn and I was convinced he was dying
again. He brushed it off as though it was nothing, just an uncomfortable sensations because of something he ate. I panicked, opened windows and gripped my cellphone as it rang. It was someone telling me my work scheduled and I hung up on them; because my dad could not breath.  I ran back into the dining room, to see him still there laughing and fine, talking to my great grandpa Harold. Both of the men that meant the most to me sat there staring at me; i broke down crying and woke up feeling like vomiting.

It was all to real, like i allowed the spirits of those that loved and protected me in by opening that window in that unknown house. I don’t know what any of it means, why I am being visited by the souls of My Dad and My Grandpa. It hurts, its like an annoying reminder that I no longer have the only men that never hurt me in my life… Maybe that’s why they visit me, to remind me that they are still here, that their souls are with me everywhere I go.

Maybe I need to pay more attention to these dreams; maybe they’re trying to teach me or show me something.

I love you Dad, I hope your resting easy; Say Hi to everyone for me. 

 

 

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Writers block?

I’m so preoccupied in my own self doubting, self conscious thoughts that I am unable to write about anything.

cropped-img_1343-0.jpgHundreds of millions of Americans and Canadians feel overwhelmed and stressed out everyday, we believe that our stress and our minor problems are crushing and numbing; Myself included. While I know people have it worse, I also know that people have it better.

I know I was a blessed kid, ‘santa’ always got me my wishes, in moderation of course, My parents were together, I had clothes and a home, and more love that surrounded me then I knew what to do with. I saw an appropriate amount of affection, but I wasn’t raised with men and/or women in and out of my parents bed’s. I knew what love was, I knew what happiness was, I knew what so many people don’t; and because of that I should feel beyond blessed and grateful for the life that I live.

But for some reason, unknown to even myself, I am not.

My inability to look pass the past; the time in my life that I wasn’t in the midst of depression, or an anxiety attack. I wasn’t this angry, this sad; this radical. I did not do things out of anger, or because I ‘couldn’t deal’. I did not know what a panic attack was, or how hard it is to look someone in the eyes because something about them, or the person before them, sends me into an anxiety attack. I am not rude, or unkind; I do not avoid eye contact, or small talk because I think I am better then anyone. I know I’m less then many people. I am 25 years old, and I am unable to be a productive part of the world. I feel like I have jumped into a fire, or a freezing cold lake, and I have to try to live through all the consequences of that one mistake. I still don’t know what mistake I made, if I am being punished for being dishonest and drinking without telling my parents, for having sex to young, or maybe all of this is just a test; something only god knows the answer to.

If this is a test, father, please show me a clear sign that this is teaching me, or leading me to something far better then the pain and suffering myself and my family have gone through. tumblr_mc6pf3dKAb1r1iv4bo1_500

I am, I have been for a while, clinically depressed. Following my fathers passing it resurfaced, not exactly in the way it has in the past, I am not suicidal, I do feel hopeless. This hopeless feeling is what cost me my job, I know this. I am in need of a change, a drastic change that will make me happy. That’s all I ever wanted, you know, happiness.

I couldn’t care less about material things, a huge house, or lots of money as long as I was happy. 

Maybe this is just a chapter in my book, maybe this ‘closed door’ will open another one, one that will provide me with happiness. Maybe everything does happen for a reason.

******

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Hello again, old friend

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Hello, former best friend

I see that your life has fallen, almost magically, into the place you’ve always wanted.

You are beautiful and successful, you have a home and a man to come home to. You are sporting a smile I have never seen on your face before; glowing with a love that seems so pure and true. I am beyond ecstatic that your life is coming along so perfectly, your imperfect past seems to have long disappeared.

I remember, as though it was just yesterday, our plans of growing up together, being there for each other through many of the mile stones life throws at us. Our first places, our first loves, our engagements and our weddings. Yet, it seems like life had its own plans. Our immature selves we’re unable to fight through the hardships, the gossip and the way we were growing so far apart while we grew up.  My life, while it had its up’s, was a series of downs; my inability to accept love, or move on from my past dampened my soul until it was just a pile of wet, soggy doubt. Yours, however, suffered its share of lows but marvelled in your highs. Your amazing transformation from a man that wasn’t good for you, to a man that thinks he isn’t good enough for you; from a self concious girl to a vivacious woman and from my best friend to a person I know nothing about.

While none of this can be place upon either of us individually, it is a consequence of both of our unkind words, our unconventional way of becoming ‘friends’ and the way neither of us could put aside our pride and be 100% there for one another.IMG_1652-0

That was probably the problem, we were to into ourselves and I was unable to communicate with you about the things that were weighing so heavily on my soul. I apologize because I know our failed friendship is 80% my fault.

While our generation went through the normal teenage emotions, the normal ‘depression’ we all felt once and a while, I was trapped in a never-ending-spinning-carousel of emotions everyday. My dad’s body was failing him while our classmates, you included, pumped their adolescent bodies with drugs and alcohol. I became the kind of person who didn’t want to be away from home, not because I was antisocial, or because I wasn’t “fun” but because I didn’t want to miss a moment with my dad, especially with people who were damaging their bodies. This was something I never confided in you, one of many things sadly. While I know friendships fail all the time, I cannot stop myself of wondering what life, what our friendship would be like today if I stepped out of my comfort zone and expressed how I was feeling to you. Why I was unable to keep a job, why your comments such as ‘I told ____ you probably wouldn’t last’ hurt me to the point that I began to hate you.

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I am sorry that I hated you because of something that was never your fault. I am sorry that I ignored your phone calls, or became unreachable many times throughout our friendship. I am sorry for everything that I did that ultimately ended the one friendship that I expected to have forever.

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Congratulations on your recent engagement and I hope your wedding is everything you ever dreamed of.

Lots of Love,

Donna

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Everything I loved became everything I lost.

All of the above...but make that coffee a hot chocolate, please.:

Stress – You self absorbed, attention seeking jerk of an emotion, I hate you so much.

I hate the way you are always right there demanding my full attention. Screaming and crying like a two-year old that wants something they cannot have; pulling and tugging on my clothes, hitting and punching me and becoming ‘dead’ weight leaning on my entire body.

I’m sick of pretending to be happy all the time, I’m sick of having to cheer everyone up when I can barely stand getting up in the morning. It just does not seem fair any more.

How, honestly someone tell me, how am I suppose to get over, or rather live with the stress of feeling empty. I am coming undone, and unable to live past the loss of my dad. They never ending reminders that seem to plague my home and dreams. That haunt every inch of this city and every mile of the world. I am stuck – in a theoretic way of course – in the past, in the life I had. I think 1998 was still only 10 years ago, my entire life froze the instant I learned of my dads illness.

How do you overcome that?

How do you begin to live again? Especially after all this time in limbo.

I want – more then anything- a happy life. One thats full of adventure and of love. Which seems nearly impossible with the self-doubting, stressed out, frozen in the past personality I’ve developed.

So, Dear Stress.

PLEASE Leave me alone.

 

 

It’s funny, well not funny in the sense that one would laugh but maybe in the way you realize that what we’ve gone through or we’re going through someone else has experienced as well. 

In a book store, a mall or maybe even a hallmark store we stumble upon things that seems to know, or rather the author seems to know, the pain that we are experiencing, the words we cannot say. 

I found a book tucked behind cards and gift bags at my local Hallmark Cards store which had a passage I’d love for each person suffering from some sort of loss to read. 

  
This passage, the entire first page outlines the way I feel everyday. 

I read this often now, reminding myself that one day that I will be better one day. 

Christmas

  
Summer has ended, thanksgiving was celebrated, Halloween is over and still the pain feels new. 

Christmas, holidays in general, have been beyond difficult since my darling grandma went home to God; but now that my dad went away this Christmas will be torturous. 

We have a life time of “Firsts” to live through now. 

This year has been excessively difficult, losing my dad, a never ended custody battle that plagues my sisters heart everyday, being diagnosed with PCOS and hypothyroidism, Mom’s stressful job search and all the other changes that have been packed into 11 short months, it’s hard to stay upbeat and happy. I am fearful, fearful of being happy because everytime I do I end up in the middle of a battle of sorts. A battle that I would rather do without. 

I believe there’s something beyond this life, but I’m angry. I’m angry at God, angry at the world. Everyone and everything I love gets ripped away from me, my family has gone through more sorrow then we deserve. Our hearts and souls are worn out and yet the world thinks it’s a fun game to throw more obsticals our way. We’re tired. 

I have prayed every single night for peace, for this never ending nightmare to end and yet it never seems to. 

I am torn apart. 

As much as I have always loved Christmas I’m afraid to look forward to a happy holiday season, for the past has made me fearful. 

I don’t wish for much this year, for what I would like cannot be bought, but I wish for a December that is full of happiness. That we will find joy this holiday season, that we will find peace. 

Such a thing would be a miracle.