I Am Not Alone

Found this in a wonderful book called "You Are Not Alone" and thought it fit.

"Give me the good sense to be afraid when there is something to fear, so that I can make ready, as well as I can, for whatever threatens. And give me the courage to stand up with grace against troubles I cannot keep from coming my way. And make me willing to learn from what hurts me instead of feeling sorry for myself."
Rabbi Chaim Stern

To be able to feel afraid, to know when there is danger, is a valued instict-a gift. And yet, being afraid all the time, worrying what might happen next, is exhausting. Being able to discern when you need to be alert-ready to flee or take a stand-and when you can let go of fear is important. And so some prey.

Prayer is one thing for which I'm grateful. God has promised that he has a plan for me and he will provide all that I require if I have faith and believe. I am made in his image, and while that doesn't grant me perfection it does mean that I am perfect in his eyes. When I spiral downward, when I bounce from rock bottom and than when I hit again, when I rise and while I heal I am perfect. Even the broken are perfect, in fact, we are all broken and it is our pieces put together that make us whole.

"There is no one among us whose body or soul is not permeated by cracks, some wide, some narrow, some deep, others shallow. At times, so many of us feel fragile, fractured, wanting only to gather up the shattered pieces. If only we could put them back together, to be smooth, unblemished once more. But, our journey is not back into the past, but forward, into a future where we transform our pieces into a whole that is both strong and weathered."
A Journey Toward Freedom

I 'm grateful for my faith, because it gives me the courage to believe that when our hearts are broken, when we are most vulnerable, we become spiritually open, and in these moments everything becomes clear. We can be more sensitive and mindful of the blessings in our lives and more empathetic to the suffering of others. We can see what matters most and what doesn't matter at all and we can take advantage of the choice to hang on or let go.

Ok Yeah I'm Scared...AND!?!

Ok, this one is a bit hard for me to admit because I strongly identify with the words brave and fearless, but ok yeah I'm scared. Scared to let go and scared not to. Scared of the past repeating itself in the future. Scared to trust anyone too much, or count on anyone too much, or lean into anyone too much. Better to stand tall and strong on my own two feet. Better to burrow my head in too much "busy" for hopes and dreams and all that silliness which leads to heartache and misery. I have enough of all that already.
Boldness is a quality I admire in myself, and I'm not sure when this chicken shit crawled into my heart and took root but I don't like it, I don't want to face it, I would just like for it to go away. Far far away so I can try things with my whole heart, with more than my body, and even with parts of my soul. Yes, that poor thing is tattered like a quilt that's been pulled in all directions trying with all it's made of to comfort everyone in the near vacinity. It's wholy and weak but still intact, definitely not broken, just a little neglected and a touch left behind. Very much worthy, deserving and in need of some TLC. Just like the rest of me.
So, boldly I go, off in the direction towards healing. And for the record, it's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose.

Half of My Heart

Let me preface this with the fact that, in my mind, sad is pathetic.

I feel sad. Sad for my son and all the things he has been through and all the things he's missing out on. A Dad, his dad. A "real" family. A second person who loves him more than life itself. I'm sad for myself and all the things I've been through and all the things I'm missing out on. I'm sad because I only have half of my heart. Dave stole the rest of it...half of my heart...and worse, it means nothing to him.

Like the time my purse was stolen and all I wanted back was the pictures I had just taken of some amazing thing I'd just done with Hayden that I cant even remember now because I don't have the S.D card that cost about 20 dollars. Those car jackers got my wallet, $75, my cell phone with all my contacts in it, my camera...and my fucking S.D card with the pictures of my son on it. They probably just deleted them and started new. The one thing I cared about meant nothing at all to them. Just like my heart to Dave. Nothing at all.

Even more tragic is the fact that I gave him half, only half, and never a drop more. Part of me wanted to hand it over with reckless abandon and I tried. I tried SO hard, and half was all I could ever do. Like all the half relationships I formed after him, he got half. I think it was the good half at least because I cared, a lot, and I tried so hard. But unlike him, the others never had a whole shot because I only had one half left to give. Here today, I live, I breathe, with just half. How can I get it back?

Can you wish, or pray, or dream hard enough to get back the missing pieces? Because I'd like to. I'd like to be a whole person again someday instead of this weak, crumbly shell with the pretty face always trying to smile. I smile because I'm afraid if I cry I'll never stop and the water will boil up in me until it pours out the cracks. I'm like Humpty frickin Dumpty. All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put me back together again.

I want it back, because I can never really try with anyone, ever, if I don't get it back. But I really dont want it back...you know? And that makes it worse. I can't choose. Should I try to get it back, or try to let it go?

This whole post is fucking pathetic, and that makes me really sad.