you.

You, you are so much. You are the books you read, the films you watch, the dreams you have and the late night conversations. You are the music you listen to and you're stitched together with the lyrics.  You are the remnants of your adventures and good quotes and the sound of the ocean and the trees you climbed. You are the people you have loved. You are the moon and the stars, the blades of grass and the smell of coffee. An over thinker, over drinker and over lover. You move with passion, splintering chaos, stained hands and mischief.  You have a soul that moves mountains, makes others weep and runs deeper than hell. You are the storm, the havoc, the compassion, the thunder and the love. A lady, a fighter, a healer. You will be wrecked and your pieces will scatter everywhere. And you will be rebuilt by the wind, the river, the sunshine and the moonlight. They will return to you every piece of yourself you gave away to every creature you ever touched, every lover, every hater, and you will be empowered and complete. You will be whole and you will smile. You are a warrior, bold and brave and beautiful. You will share your magic and be kind and laugh and then you will allow someone to come in and shatter you again and the cycle will continue and you will once again teach invaluable lessons and help the weak to quell their demons. You will always push back the darkness.

January 2019

Today is Wednesday 23 January 2019. 

This is not a warm and fuzzy post. If you're looking for positive and hopeful, you won't find  much of it here right now. Maybe next time.

After the initial magnitude of last January hit and the tremors slowly shivered away, we were really only left with the destruction. Then, the realization that, despite our own trauma, we were the clean up crew too.

In the beginning, there is this tremendous outpouring of everything that is good in the world. Everything that is good in people. A living, breathing example of exactly what we are called to be. And apparently there is an expiration date on that sort of behavior for most because it doesn't last long. I guess it's a lot of work, or there just isn't enough time. It dwindles away more and more each day and eventually fades away completely and you are left to navigate, for the most part, on your own. It's a great, looming darkness, always just there, never really leaving completely. Everyone copes differently. I looked for the little things. And when I couldn't find them anymore, I tried to make them, however unappreciated.

I had to do a lot of hard things this past year. 

I had to forgive people who weren't sorry.
I had to give up fighting my way to the other side of grief and accept that there is no "other side." It just absorbing and enduring and learning how to live as the person I am now. It is literally one moment at a time and the constant struggle to not let what has happened to you turn you into someone you are not. 

I had to allow the validation of my situation. I spent a lot of time thinking I didn't deserve that because others had it worse. Mostly because a lot of people didn't give our struggles any validation because others did have it worse. 

I had to find the strength to reach out and then find the strength to pull back when no one was there. 

I had to accept that people and places I gave my heart and soul to, took me out like the kitchen trash.
I had to watch my child be walked on, beat down, and heartbroken, over and over with no way to fix it. I had to watch her endure more pain, anger, ridicule, rejection, and sorrow than any child should endure and apologize to her because there was no way for me to stop it. 

I saw a lot of gray and saw a lot of "true colors."

This year was full of meltdowns, breakdowns, exhaustion, loneliness, fear, sorrow, humility and great loss. 
It was also full of growth, love, faith, resolution, and learning. So much learning.
I learned how inconceivably brave a person can be.
I learned about heroes.
I learned that angels walk among us and are disguised in many shapes.
I learned about patience. 
I learned that sometimes the best light comes from a burning bridge.

It's not over. I wake up  each day broken and defeated and ready for battle. In truth, the war itself has not even begun.   
It's always going to hard but eventually, hopefully, it's worth it.

"Never forget to thank the storm."

Grief is a bare, forceful being

I think the last three days have been the most emotionally draining three days I've had in the last 23 months.  

There is no destination in this process. 
No place to "get to." 
I think the realization of that may be one of the most difficult things. 
Knowing you have to keep going. 
Knowing there is no other side of grief. 
Knowing there may not be any closure, ever.
Knowing that trauma might still win.  
It is absolutely exhausting trying to turn loss into healing. 
It's impossible. 
We don't get stronger, we get harder. 
We don't get better, we just become better liars, mostly to ourselves. 
Grief is a bare and forceful being. 

One of these days

"One of these days

one of these days

I'm gonna sit down

and write a long letter

to all the good friends

I've known.

One of these days

One of these days

One of these days

and it won't be long

it won't be long."

Charleston 1

"Charleston girl in a darkened room

And you don't know her like I do..."

I closed the door, she stole my key.

Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell.

As you ring what batters you becomes your strength.

 The only ghost at St. Philips is the Holy Ghost.

Take trust as your bricks, patience as your cement.