Chronicles of Ché

I’ve not blogged in a year and a half….I haven’t had anything I wanted to say. I ran out of words. My desire to read went way up though, so maybe that’s my psyche’s way of storing up new words for when it’s time to talk again.
Like today.
Wish I knew where to start….with…I guess I’ll start with today. It was a shitty, empty day..full of angst at work, and I have nothing and nowhere to blow off steam. I don’t think it’s totally my jobs’ fault…though it definitely sucks. But the problem is within me..and I don’t know how to make it different.
I’ve been seeing a counselor for almost a year, and things felt lighter and more hopeful for about 6 months..then CRASH!!
And I don’t know what set me off.
My body aches like I’m holding myself rigid all the time and I don’t know how to make it stop.
I have nightmares about hiding and holding my breath to escape discovery..but from what, or whom?

I’ve been watching a TV series called “Life UneXpected”. I enjoy it…and hate it cause it pushes all my buttons. I relate to the orphan looking for acceptance, love…does everyone struggle with feelings like that?
I lack the courage to really move myself to go looking for it though…love.

Oh, so cliche….and that kinda pisses me off.

Sorry, folks…I just gotta.

Rant, that is.

I’ve noticed myself doing this thing lately…kinda surface talking..like everythings okay, but inside I’m going crazy.

I work for Starbucks…which sounded pretty good when I started, but I’m slowly going crazy.

Starbucks is run like fundemental christian churches…control, control, control.

I make $10.25 per hour, 30 hours a week…on which I have to support my 3 kids and me.

My ex-husband pays child support…but has reduced it as my son just turned 19. So now, I have to either insist my son pays room and board,  even though he doesn’t have a job (hard to get in this town) or kick him out.

I am sick of crappy wages…and sick of being told all the things I don’t get exactly right…cause, after all, Starbucks expects 100% conformity (yes, that’s in the manual).

I’m tired of being the parent who has to make all the decisions, make all the appointments, pay for things…and somehow try to have my own identity in the middle of it.

I think I’m lonely…but it’s hard to tell, really, cause I’m just so damn tired.

I’ve been trying to move forward..ya know…to get healed, to be whole.

But I suck at it.

I’m sick of trying to be better than I am.

Yet where I sit is so depressing, how can I stay here?

In the middle of all the crappiness….neat little presents appear. They are good…but is it enough to make me want to keep going? Maybe. Maybe not. You know what I actually feel when God and people give me cool stuff?    Guilty. Guilty that I don’t have a better attitude, that I’m not more thankful.

I’m going to Europe in June. Sounds great, right? It is great….I think. Yet, I feel no real excitement…though that may come later.  I feel empty. As much as I want to travel….I would rather have a life that I enjoy a little more. Maybe hobbies. And maybe a date now and again. I don’t know.

Oh, and have I mentioned the mice?

Yup, mice have moved into my house and it’s making me frustrated.

We have trapped 12 of them so far, and brought them to the other side of the lake.

And I still saw another running around the edges of the living room.

I’m so sick of this stuff.

I want to be thankful, and have a good attitude.

But today…..my attitude sucks.

I picked up a book last week, when I was in the city. It was one I’ve been intending to get a hold of for quite a few months….all because of the cover.

On it, is a woman, obviously a warrior, with tattoos all over her body. She looks intent, and dangerous. On the surface, this appeals to me because I wish I was dangerous. Too many years of feeling helpless…too many times of letting harm come to me without fighting back. Yet, I’ve learned to fight. I’ve learned to stand firm…to push back if need be. But dangerous?

Anyways, what grabbed me was that the woman reminded me of a dream I had about 13 years ago. In it, I was the warrior. I remember hunting, searching for books that had words in them that I needed…but finding some too late. The words would disappear before I could read them all. I searched and searched….and as I read the words, new tattoos would appear on my person. Like a living story.

This dream has sat with me for a long time.

I had a purpose in that dream…something that I felt called to do.

I like that feeling of purpose..of being a part of something bigger than me. I like feeling like I accomplished something. I liked feeling like there was a place for me, something that I HAD to do, that I was created to do.

I wonder if I’ll ever feel like that in this reality?

I’ve been watching a TV series on DVD that I just acquired, called, “Supernatural”.

Now, I’ve been thinking about buying it for quite some time, but chose not to because of an observation from a close friend.

She said the show was quite dark.

She was right.

But what I find interesting, is that what used to bother me….ALOT….does not anymore.

My boys and I have been talking alot lately, about this particular change in me.  You see, I used to be strict about the movies and shows I watched, about the books I read. I used to  be the good christian girl, and I kept ‘my eyes from evil’.

Looking back…I think that was an excuse.

I think I was just afraid. Terribly, horribly afraid…that my nightmares were true. That evil would get me and there was no safe place.

And yet.

Here I sit after going through my life blowing up…..and I think fear has lost it’s edge.

If I had tried to watch a show like ‘Supernatural’ or Buffy, the Vampire Slayer’, etc. 8 years ago or more…I’d have freaked out.

And I would never have let my children see anything of the sort.

Now….well, my children aren’t children anymore, so that’s a bit different.

But it’s alot more than that.

I’m not afraid of the freaky crap anymore. Conversely, I also believe even more strongly in the supernatural and paranormal than ever before.

I enjoy watching it…even the freaky stuff. And I enjoy analysing it. I think there is some real stuff that they build on…but sorting out the real from the Hollywood is…interesting.

My boys and I talk about this stuff alot lately…they express typical unbelief I’d expect…and yet they’ve seen unusual stuff. They’ve lived with me, so weird stuff happens. They know that.

I just found out that one of the guys I work with is in the process of become a Practitioner. I find that interesting…yet I pray for him as well. You see, I explore alot of stuff like this, but I have an anchor that I count on. My friend does not.

So I think I’ll watch over him.

And I’ll read books, and watch movies and shows….and enjoy the fact that fear has lost it’s hold on much of my life.

I am dealing with the melancholy that comes with this season. No matter how hard I try to not have expectations…they are still in there waiting to be blown up.

Oh, Joy.

I’ve been living life quietly. The busyness and noise of my job and my role as mother pushes me into longing for quiet and solitude.

Taking walks by the ocean has helped..but I crave a deeper quiet.

I’ve been prodding that place inside of me where I can talk to Father…but I find it a empty place. Perhaps He calls me to go deeper….find Him where He is hiding today.

I feel heavy. Too many, too much, too little.

{sigh}

Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll find out where He is hiding.

I woke up this morning thinking about living my life…all my life…as a victim.

I am still struggling through what it means to be free, to be my own person. I was raised in a chrisitian community, which, as far as I can tell, raises people up to be victims.

I have been taught ALL MY LIFE to be a servant or a slave…to God…to whatever person held authority over me, which was any male since I am female.

It’s no wonder I grew up hating to be a girl.

But God came and set me free. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that He didn’t want me to be His slave or His servant. He completely gave me the right to be me, and He told me that He wanted to know me if I’d be willing to share who I am with Him. He actually wants me to love Him, and He has pushed me hard to get to know myself so that love could develope between Him and I. And in giving me such broad freedom, He gave me permission to stop being a victim.

Yet the walking out of this freedom has proven to be incredibly hard. I encounter walls, speedbumps, and hurdles every which way I go. It seems that this world in general hates freedom. Probably because it makes people like me hard to control.

One of the reasons I’ve stopped going to Homechurch was the prevalent attitude about ‘servanthood’ that about makes me want to hurl. I’m not a servant. I won’t be a servant. I am interested, however, in being a neighbour and a friend. I love to give…my time, energy, enthusiasm, even finances (if I had any). But to be cast as a servant deflates me fast.

In learning who I am (which is still ongoing) I’ve come to appreciate my heart…the inner core of who I am.

And I’ve come to appreciate the transforming work God is doing with me.

And in that appreciation, I’m trusting God and I’m trusting me to make a difference in the lives I touch. This may not be a ‘great work’ but it is what is set before me to do.

One of the thoughts that surfaces randomly lately, is that the idea of ‘right and wrong’ is actually a holdover from the very first bad choice humanity made….the eating of the fruit of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

Somehow, as humans, we’ve decided that we can discern right and wrong according to a rulebook (the Bible) and make great choices because we know the answers.

I’ve lost the ability to function that way. I walk with the Person who can help me make decisions, and help me to love people. Somehow right and wrong has become a rigid worldview I cannot afford any longer.

Some people have absolutes to believe in….I’ve given up most of them. Somehow there are too many things that are exceptions to the rules….and God is still there.

And I scare people. I have had too many who have wanted to fix this problem I have….too much grace, not enough good sense.

It saddens me that I don’t get along with many christian folks here in this small town….but once you taste the freedom from trying to figure it all out so you can be the best you can be….well, there’s no going back. I am sitting outside the fence of good behaviour and ‘better christian’ attitudes…and the air is sweet and wild and beautiful.

This would be a scary place without the companionship of my Friend….but with Him, it’s an adventure.

One of the things Father has been challenging me with…is to learn to be beautiful.

You see, I’ve got quite the poor self image (not uncommon, I know) that has been not-helped by my ex-husband running off with the neighbours wife.

That sounds so cliché, it makes me wince. But the reality is: it makes the strongest, most confident woman go through a long time of questioning.

I’m not looking for people to tell me I’m pretty, or any other flattering comments. To me, that’s not the point.

I need to know that I’m beautiful, on the inside, and on the outside. This is something I have to work through…learning to see myself truly.

Father says I’m beautiful…yet to believe that feels like stepping off a cliff. There is some sort of sick security in believing the worst about yourself….I’ve yet to understand why that is so.

So He challenges me to be beautiful. I must ask myself often, “What would a beautiful person think in this situation?” Would I react differently or make different decisions?

Truthfully…..yes, I would.

Like when Wayne Jacobson says to live life as if you are LOVED….well, that changes everything.

So, looking at myself in the mirror….I tell myself that I am gorgeous.

Inside and out.

Maybe one day…I’ll believe it.

I wonder if this walking out thing is building my endurance.

I’ve come to this place in my life and I am shocked at what I’ve been able to get through, even though I feel like giving up so much of the time.

I am in the middle of training right now, moving up in position from barista to shift supervisor at Starbucks.

I really like my job….but am very discouraged at the rate of pay.

I can’t support myself. It’s just not enough. And finding another job is difficult in this small town…especially one that I like. Which has become an important priority.

I figure that I need to do something I at least like or there is nothing left for me. I struggle so much with being mom & dad to my kids, that I want something that feels okay.

So Starbucks it is. There is a pay raise that goes with the move in position, which I’m hoping will help….but I need so much help financially, it may not amount to anything.

I’ve been to several doctors these last few months…and my shoulder is getting better. Yet that has been a discouraging situation. I am six months distant from the time when I injured it, and I still struggle to get dressed and put my hair in a ponytail. Uh.

So, okay, this has been a bit of a ‘get it off my chest’ sort of post….kinda necessary I guess.

It makes me seem faithless though, when I read what I wrote…but I’m not faithless. I like my relationship with Father. He and I are still feeling our way through this relational jumble….

I quit going to my Homechurch…so another leaving that takes it’s toll. This was hard, as I really like the people there..but the theology was draining.

How do others handle that kind of situation? Liking the people but knowing that to stay would mess you up bad…..

Today was hard.

I keep walking out life cause I have 3 children who need me….and maybe that small little flame of hope that JUST WON’T DIE showing up when I thought I’ve given up.

When people ask how I’m doing..I respond that I’m tired. TIRED. TIRED.

I have an aquaintance that is in much the same situation as me. Single parent, 3 children, louse of an ex-husband, financial woes so big you just don’t talk about them……she tried to commit suicide last week. Many people are very angry with her……but I got it, even as I was angry. She had one of her sons find her in time to stop the overdose……I don’t tell anyone that that could’ve been me.

My lifelong training tells me to keep going, to pull up my socks and carry on.

And I look at my children and think that they have had enough crap handed to them…who am I to pile on any more?

So, I continue.

But I’m tired.