Drag me the rest of the way down this gravel road because I can’t walk any longer.
Drag me the rest of the way down this gravel road because I can’t walk any longer.
I’ve always loved Alice In Wonderland. My favorite character has always been the rabbit. I don’t really know why but I like him so much but I like the character that he seems to be. He might be in a rush and he might be late or maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s just trying to pass life by and get to something exciting. Maybe he is trying to get away or avoid something. He seems to be a shy timid character yet sweet and says important things when he does speak. It seems as though even though he is timid, when he speaks it is constructive. It seems to be helpful any way. I’m not sure why I wanted to share that but I really like that Rabbit. What a sweet character he seems to portray.
Crouching at my door like a tiger ready to pounce it’s prey, the impact between it and I so strong it tends to knock me over each time. The gruesome picture it leaves is unbearable to look at, so I walk away hoping it won’t follow me. As I walk I’m finding the little pieces from the impact left behind, a little bruise here and there , a little nick here and not looking carefully some cuts and scrapes left undiscovered. I beautifully escaped the disaster unknowing to how I got out alive although things felt yet not seen were lurking in the shadows of the dark place of the gruesome picture I had previously left behind that the light is dragging me back to. Kicking screaming begging to not go back but knowing I must look at it to let it go. A gruesome picture yet a beautiful disaster and the pieces left behind a beautiful mess.
Oh these days are gruesomely painful. I hate being alone. I hate feeling like I don’t really have friends. I hate feeling like I’m losing a best friend that knows me better than any other human on this planet. I hate this all. I’d rather drown once more physically than drown in my feelings and feel every single little thing every single emotion at once. I hate these days. I hate every day.
My heart just aches and I want to disconnect from everything. I want to hide in my shell and live there for all eternity without seeing a single face and I don’t even know why I feel that way. Too many social events with too many people crammed in at once. Maybe I just feel so very alone and my way of dealing with that is drawing myself away from everything and everyone. Maybe I just feel like I’m losing a lot of things including but not limited to my sanity. Maybe I’m scared. Or maybe it’s a combination of all of those things. But whatever it is, it hurts immensely. It’s like putting salt on a cut or putting tape on a fresh wound and ripping it off. Just this pain way deep inside of me that is unexplainable but an intense emptiness that can be filled in no other way but with God’s very own love. Missing my daddy NEVER gets easier. I wish that that time he scooped me up into his arms that I didn’t want to be there, I wish I had wanted to be there in his arms soaking it up. I dreamed sometimes as a little girl that my mom would get married to someone who loved me so much that he would adopt me and he would actually spend time with me. That he would actually love me like daddy’s love their daughters. That anyone would love me and treat me and care for me tenderly, fragilely and want to do it. Want to spend time with me. That they would love to call me their daughter. Only Jesus God alone can fill the emptiness inside of me. I have to keep reminding myself but keeping going and keeping myself trucking along is hard.
Do you ever really stop to think about the fact that this earth is only our temporary resting place? I mean do you REALLY think about it? The houses we live in, the cars we drive, even the food we eat is all just a temporary fix to our eternal lives! We don’t get to take any of those things to heaven with us because we won’t need ANYTHING to survive because we will have everything we could possibly need just worshipping in our Father’s presence and seeing the face of Jesus. This paints such a beautiful picture. Turn your imaginations on and imagine these scenes in your head;
Old man, hospital bed, the room is filled with people he loves. He whispers, “Don’t cry for me, I’ll see you all someday.” He looks up and says, “I can see God’s face. This is my temporary home, its not where I belong, windows and rooms that I’m passing through. This was just a stop on the way to where I’m going. I’m not afraid because I know this was my temporary home.”-Carrie Underwood
This is my own personal story about that.
My grandma or “Granny” as I called her had become ill. It started as a mass on her lung. She uttered the words “Lung cancer” to me and my heart nearly stopped in the room that day. Finally within a couple months, a couple crazy months filled with medication, including one that made her crazy and she literally had to be babysat until my uncle got home. I got the prove ledge of babysitting her. She had an anger outrage while my mom was there before she left one day and my granny was throwing anything she could get into her hands and ripping up pictures and papers. My mom had to try to calm her down but couldn’t do it, so I had to call the ambulance. After that incident, I was pretty scared to be alone with her while she was on that medication. Well after a few months of losing hair, chemo, and medications finally she was in remission. Not even a month later my granny was out in the hospital and “lymphoma” was the grievously uttered words. Well to make a long story short, all of us were too busy now to babysit her and she had to go into a nursing home. That year on Mother’s day I called my mom to say happy mother’s day and she told me her gift to granny that year was to tell her that if she has to go, don’t hold on for us. If she couldn’t fight anymore, It’s okay to go home. So that’s exactly what she did. Our immediately family was all in the room. I however, was not, I had already made plans and I didn’t want to see her struggle or the pain on my face woulda made her suffer longer. I knew because I was her baby and her “doll”, as she called me. They could all tell she was ready to go but she was hanging on although they couldn’t get her to respond to them. Finally my mom asked her, “Mom, are you waiting for Christianna?” and she finally made a responsive noise. My mom assured her she had asked me if it was okay for her to go and told her that I told her it was okay and then she went. She took her last breath and I could just imagine her stepping off into a light brighter than anything ever seen with the human eye. I can imagine that at that moment when she breathed for the very last time, a hand, or a few hands, we’re extended towards her and she took Jesus’ hand and left this earth because she saw greater joy in a painless eternity. She waited for me. I could only hope that her and my daddy will be taking my hands when the Father calls me home.
Sometimes I wish I could just go away and not even look back for a second to care about who is depending on me. Sometimes I just want to scream at someone, anyone and tell them I hate them, even though I don’t hate anyone, just because it feels good. Sometimes I just want to drink until I can’t see straight. But those things will get me no where and I just have to keep convincing myself to persevere. Day by day, minute by minute, perseverance. Lift your head and. Keep. Going.
I read the bible for every single reason you can think of. I read it because I’m happy, I read it because I’m angry, I read it because I’m excited, I read it because God is the only source of hope at any specific point in my life, I read it because I NEED him. Today I’m reading because I am in desperate need of a pick me up, I’m over everything and I feel like my heart is detached from my body, fell out of my butt onto the floor and got trampled on for no apparent reason and I wanna go home and hide forever.
I hate feeling judged. People often judge me by their outside view of me, the shows I watch, music I listen to and I often feel as if I am not accepted because who I am to those people is the shows I watch or the music I prefer. I am still a young adult and despite those things I still can carry on adult conversation. My preferences don’t make me any less of a person. I am way more than those things and I have a creator who cares for me simply just to love me and when he looks at me all he sees is vulnerably my stripped away heart and who I truly am. His daughter. It’s really hard to not care about what people think of me, especially when I get picked on.
