The Captain's Log

takes one to know one...

2008-06-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

don't play these games.

i've played them.

they always find you out.

afternoon daydreaming...

2008-05-27T16:56:00.000-07:00

Click click clap clap the casio keyboard beky used to play when we were kids that little annoying demo beat that I played because I couldn’t actually play…

I sing. Creamy melodies and charcoley scatting scramble out of my throat, and its not always perfect but, son I tell ya, nothing is more freeing.

I want to go away. Somewhere foggy and cooler. Somewhere to get lost and listen to music. Somewhere I can write without the distraction of work or family or friends or enemies or fluorescent lighting.

I will run in fields of wild flowers with my long peasant skirts and flirt with the daisies. My long feet and stubby toes will find their freedom in the good clean dirt.

I’ll eat strawberries and get mud in my fingernails. I wont know where I’m going. I don’t want a car. I don’t want a map.

I don’t even want my cell phone, which is as much apart of me as my eyelids.

I will still love the people I love when I get back, but while I’m gone I wont think about a single one of them.

A grip of black, fine, ballpoint pens and a dozen journals should do me just fine.

I don’t want soda and I wont want my chucks, or my chains, or my lipstick or eyeliner. Maybe a little sheep dog, like Martha. But in miniature. And we’ll go on many an adventure together. But no one else.

And when its nice out I’ll sleep under the stars and I’ll try to count them, and my Father and I can have lots of chats about them. And when its chilly and rainy I’ll sleep in a cottage with a fire burning warmly and low. Not too bright. I just don’t like it bright.

Not in a Stella way from Street Car. Its not that I fear light for my flaws or age. I have enough flaws that can be seen just as easily in the dark as they can be seen in the light.

Just in a cozy blanket of protection way.

On dark nights I will wander into the woods, with only a lantern. Not battery. Fire.

Fire… I want to smell like campfire. I want to bathe in the smokey taste of pine and redwood and charcoal. I want to guide the smoke in circles with my hands.

I want to throw my cigarettes in the trash can and smoke a pipe like Gandalf. Sweet smelling tobacco crawling silkily into my lungs.

I’ll drink black coffee and sip on lavender lemonade.

I’ll sing while I walk. While I write. While I read. Or at least hum or whistle.

I want to plant a garden. I want to grow potatoes and carrots. I want to grow roses.

I’ve never grown roses.

I wonder if its hard.

I will ballroom dance with myself at night. Every night. And I will courtesy after every dance. Because I will be classy.

Classy is how I roll… Or at least how I will roll.

I will take the train if I have I go anywhere, and I still wont wear shoes. People will look at me funny. I’ll pretend I can’t speak the language. Maybe pretend I’m deaf and cannot hear them.

Perhaps I’ll learn the violin, or maybe I’ll just perfect the guitar. And I’ll grow my fingernails very long so I can pick and pluck out lots of complicated and lovely little ditties.

When I come back, I’ll probably return to normal life. Wear shoes. Work. Be busy. Text every 2 seconds. Drive long distances. See all my old friends.

But deep inside I’ll think about the long nights of waltzing with my mop.

The Post I Was Going to Label "Choices" but Will Rather Refer to it as "What the Heck is She Talking about?!"

2008-04-01T16:11:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in my desk at work typing with my eyes closed because my eyeballs seem to be cold and my eyelids are acting as little wool blankets on them.

Today is one of those days where you feel like you should have called out sick from work because it would have been a far better thing to stay inside all day in your room watching youtube, reading a military diary, and sleeping.

I think I might actually still be tired from this weekend and maybe my body can't catch up any more. Maybe its just telling me "Slow down, quit your job and sleep for a few years," but I guess that can't be the best choice, rather the more tempting choice. Can't quit, have a new car (its red and cute), have to save for a trip to Colorado this summer hopefully, have to put money away for the future before its the present... So I need the job, plus I guess being industrious is supposed to be the wiser choice to slothfulness.

I feel like I said choice too many times already, I suppose when I label this blog i shall have to put the word choice in it, and darnit why do I keep typing "choise" and then backspacing to correct the spelling and make it "choice," haha darnit, did it again.

Things are strange in my life, for once there seems to be this over arching plan that has some concrete dates and ideas and hopes and my dreams are playing out in real life. I don't really know how to react to such things.

I hope I don't sabotage myself again. I do this often... Well maybe not often, but often when there is something big going on in my life that seems to be going pretty well, I do everything in my power to screw it up, just to test it you know, and then when it fails I can cry and say Woe is me! But then after I'm content knowing my testing plan worked again and I didn't fall all the way for my big hopes and dreams.

I want to go on a drive, a long drive and go until I'm tired and then I want to sleep on the beach, my beach, and I want to listen to some epic metal and cry myself to sleep. I want to be carried to a big warm bed in a fortress with servants. I want be patted on the head and someone to say, "There, There, its alright," which will make me cry more, and then I'll think, Why was I crying? I think it was just the pretty music and we'll all have a good laugh over my emotional mood swing and all the men will smile and laugh and say "Oh, the typical female!" and forget about it and give me a hug and the women will go behind closed doors and say "She thinks she's so tough, what a female!" And I'll simply laugh and not care what they say, because it doesn't really matter to me.

Someday when I have children of my own I will tell my daughters that they need to be strong and that they shouldn't cry all the time, because I'll have forgotten my time, and I will tell my sons that they must be sensitive and that it's okay to cry... Because it is. And its okay for the girls to cry too, but I have such biases, you know.

I don't know what I'm talking about or why I'm talking about it, mostly because I'm so tired all the sudden and my eyes are still closed and as I type I nod off to some dream land, that is far away from the florescent lights that make my eyes cold and dry...

I think I'll head home soon so that I don't have to be here anymore, stuck and sitting at my desk, I can simply be...

In traffic...

Rollin' Up the Walls Inside

2008-01-24T09:44:00.000-08:00

I’m not really tired but I am very… docile? Yes, that word will suffice for my current mood and state of being.

It’s a lovely rainy day, the office is quiet, I have some lovely music playing, and my space heater keeping me company. I’d really much rather be at home or the Getty, as those are the best places to be when its raining, however, one can’t have everything they want…

Oh! The Getty! We should go there for Beky’s birthday… That was a sidenote.

How do people hate the rain? My goodness, besides the sky being lovely and dark, there’s the cuddle factor that goes hand in hand with rain, coffee, long walks (umbrella-less please), everything gets all clean and green.

Right now I’m listening to Nightwish (I have a bunch of random stuff on shuffle) and it makes me think of Ronni and Mike. Ronni and I wanna see them again in May I think. It’ll be a drive, but its worth it (Btw, if you’ve never listened to Nightwish, its long past time that you did).

Mike is hoping to leave by the end of March. It will be hard to see my dearest friend leave, but I know that the Lord has his plans and that his plans are always good, always right, and are always perfect. So many times I wonder, what would have happened that first Thursday of Spring 04 semester if he hadn’t gone to school to buy that text book? I’d venture to say that my life would not have near as many adventures, wonderful memories, very sad moments, and the angry and fighting moments would probably be a quarter of what they are now. ;) I’m so glad that we fought so much for 3.5 years. I think we’ve gotten most of it out of our system. We know each other’s pet peeves and sensitive spots and got all of that aggression out in one, concentrated lump sum.

I always ramble so much in these things. I don’t even think anyone reads them, haha which is the great part because in theory I could write whatever I wanted to. But I wont cos I’m slightly paranoid.

Anyways, as usual, no continuity and I’m done for now.

giggle

2008-01-16T16:12:00.000-08:00

the receptionist in the next office over jumped out of her skin as i was walking past her desk... she was playing solitaire.

it made me giggle. i don't hate lady. ;)

Chopin, is my happy

2007-12-03T11:17:00.000-08:00

I wish i knew what to write. Most of this will probably be misspelled and not make any sense, but then again if you've read any of my other blogs... that's the norm...

Its December and December is a strange month. When i used to work retail I hated it but i can kind of enjoy it now without as much of the commercialism, although, face it, we're all subjected to it in one way or another.

i love Christmas like a lot. yesterday was the first Sunday of advent meaning we got to sing Christmas songs. yesterday's service was amazing. i loved it muchly.

God has definitely given my father the gift of teaching and whenever I hear him preach I think about how I hope I never have to change churches. Other teachers make me snoooooore...

Yesterday some of us folks went to Santa Monica. I <3 Santa Monica with all its homeless and rich people. I love the street performers, the people trying to sell useless crap on kiosks (fake snow? whaaaaT?@!@?) the good food and the not so good food, the hippies, the hip hoppers the yuppies and the skater kids.

i love places like that. that's why i love airports, people say I'm crazy cos i like airports, but really its fabulous to people watch. Disneyland is another good place for that.

DANG I FEEL SICK. Bleh. Don't know why but I feel like my back and my stomach is all up in knots. I'm not really keen on being at work today. Sometimes I feel that I can never do enough for my boss to please him. He's not a bad guy really. In fact he's a really nice guy. Just a bit high strung.

I'm listening to Frederic Chopin right now and it moves me. I feel like I want to cry but not in a sad way. In a "Will you marry me Frederic Chopin", "Yes I will Rachel" kind of way. I'm horribly immature for saying that. Oh well.

Music... Good music... Makes me swoon. If it were possible to fall madly in love with a piece of music I'd have many lovers... Holy cow... Nocturne in E Minor, op 72. Kills me. I want to wrap up in it and lay in a field of daffodils... daffodils of course, because, well if you've seen big fish... you've seen the beauty of daffodils.

This is writing without a purpose. This is writing as a measure of catharsis. And this writing shall now-- stop.

Look at me, I just wrote a blog...

2007-11-23T08:36:00.000-08:00

You ever get the feeling something big is gonna happen and shake your world up? I feel like that right now. Not quite sure what it'll be, but I think its coming.

Yesterday was thanksgiving. We had some family and friends over. It was nice and cozy in our little house. FAR too much food. I swear I'm still full. Mike surprised us and showed up later in the evening. Which was a nice treat.

After everyone was gone my dad and I went out on the back porch. You always feel like a little kid when you're with your parents but last night I felt grown up sitting on the back porch with my pops. We didn't really talk about anything deep (breaks, pneumatic tools, air compressors, and blood pressure cuffs), but it just felt special. Normally my mom will go out with him late at night to unwind and talk, but last night I did. And... It just felt nice.

I guess that I was kinda thinking, I don't know what the future will bring. I don't know where I'll be going or doing in the next year, and I'm not always gonna be able to sit on the porch with my dad. Someday I wont get to wake up in the morning and leave my 10x10 room to see him getting ready to walk with my mom or on Fridays sitting on the couch with bed head and a cup of coffee. He wont be there when I just want to sit next to him or give him a hug in the hallway before I go to bed.

Family relationships change so much as you get older, and really, I kind of hate it. It doesn't seem right. When people get older they are less open and less loving (at least openly). My mom and I were watching a movie a couple weeks back and there was a scene with two old women who had been friends when they were younger. One of the women was sick and her old friend crawled in the bed with her and they talked and shared secrets and were cozy.

You know, I used to be like that with my sisters. And now, I kind of am with BekyMay, although she's moved out now, but I haven't cuddled on a bed with Sarah in years. We have to be more cordial now. Not because anyone said it but because we had to do this silly growing up thing. Who's idea was it that you can't be silly and dumb and cuddly, and close when you get older?

Maybe I'm just not grown up yet. Sometimes (very rarely anymore) I will crawl into my mom's bed on a cold morning and be dorky and laugh and cuddle with her. And yet I know when I have my own family someday that's just not going to be acceptable behavior. But it just doesn't seem fair.

I look at Val and Ronni and Nan and I think, I don't ever want to have to be proper around them! I want to be able to have sleepovers and crazy random moments forever. I don't want us to go from being close in so many ways to having to give the "friend hug" aka "awkward hug" just because we got a few more years under our belts.

Sigh. This was all a bit random, but I felt like writing. Work is quiet and boring. And I am feeling a bit under the weather. And what I'd really like right now is to lay down in a huge ol' bed with my favorite friends and be cozy and watch calamity jane and eat chocolate and drink shandies and hot cocoa. (also I know none of those things go together, but I don't really care).

Okay thats all. Happy Biggest Shopping Day of the Year!

plans, goals, and bekymay

2007-10-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

Life in the crossroads is proving to be frustrating. I don't know what I want to do with my life right now, but I know I need to figure it out soon.

I have a decent job, but its not something I enjoy. Talked with my dad a few weeks back about what to do. We all know that I enjoy writing, working with children, construction/building materials, and cars. None of those have anything to do with the other and I think thats my problem.

For once in my life I'm not looking to hurry up and get married (I learned my lesson on being a wife last year with the whole bad mistake relationship thingy), I just want to find something to do and be passionate about it. Of course, eventually I want to be a wife and mother. I look at my mom and I am so proud of her, sometimes I want to be just like her.

She homeschooled all three of us girls, we come home to a clean house, she cooks, she details, she sews, she runs errands for the family, she does laundry, she works at the church... She's freakin' superwoman. And since I know that being a wife and mom is my main goal for someday out in the future (NOT NOW, OH NO) that's what I desire.

I want to cook and clean and bake bread and do laundry, sew, decorate, raise a gaggle of kids, drive a freakin mini-van for goodness sakes... But thats the longterm goal.

I can't have that right now so I have to find something to do in the meantime.

Anyways, currently I'm sick. My mom and sis got sick this weekend and I got a little sick but not super. Mostly feeling weak and blah.

SPEAKING OF MY SISTER. She's freakin' moving out this weekend and I am getting REALLY FREAKIN DEPRESSED ABOUT IT. I cried for like 2 hours the other day about it. I've always wondered what it would be like to live alone with my folks and now I'm getting sad.

No more having beky pull me out of bed in the morning, fighting over the medicine cabinet being open while I brush my teeth, no more hurrying her nightly face washing rituals so I can shower... No more being told I can't sit on her bed or to get out of her room. No more jack bauer power hours with beer and hot wings on random nights. No more late night texting about how one of us can't sleep.

What's gonna happen if she gets sick and needs me there? What's gonna happen when I really just wanna lay my head on her lap and talk or cry?

I know its not that far, but beky and i are... well, beky is my best friend. For a long time she's all I had. She knows my deepest secrets, fears, and goals. I'm so sad for all the crap I've given her in the last 2 years and I just wanna be close and not have to grow up.

Now I'm freakin crying. I'm such a pansy.

I'm gonna miss you thithtow.

Alright, time to stop bawling.

Thats all for now...

rambling...

2007-10-18T23:23:00.000-07:00

i'm not tired. just finished working a bit and i can't seem to wind down... my mind wont stop spinning and my body, though tired, seems oddly restless.

i just clipped my fingernails thinking that's what was bothering me. (that sound's like Pedro, in Napo Dyno, when he decides to cut his hair because his head was hot...) i don't know.

i'm reading this book by john piper about finding joy in the Lord and its really good. i think i need another boost (aka kick in the pants) spiritually to continue to spur myself on in the Lord. I've come a long way in the last year but there is still so far to go

i am looking forward to halloween. i daresay, its my favorite day of the year. nothing like dressing up and pretending. i suppose that makes me still kind of a kid, but that's okay... well, isn't it?

i started my new journal tonight, (black leather journal, compliments of Miggle). I was sad to put my old one to rest (brown leather journal, compliments of Mrs. Holly) but its always exciting closing a journal out and starting a new one. its like volumes of your life, and its time to start the newest one on the ever continuing saga called life.

i got my boot off and i'm down to a brace. i went to a handful of shoe stores, seeking out a shoe that would fit over my brace. in a last ditch effort (or is it last stitch?) i picked up the ugliest pair of boots in the last store and although ghastly, they fit. i'm sore and my body is worn out from all the compensation. my podiatrist is referring me to a knee specialist (Dr. Swan, i believe is her name) and i am going to talk to her about my knee problems.

i got to babysit my nieces on wednesday night, and just to keep you in the loop on them-- they're still the cutest children ever, and yes-- holly is still perfect.

this weekend is proving to be a trying one as everyone in my family will be heading off into different directions. i have a million tentative plans, and none concrete.

as you can see this blog had no point. i was kinda hoping the typing would wear me out. but it really didn't, so i'm going to try and read some more.

you've been a lovely audience, thank you and goodnight!

innuhfunk

2007-10-11T11:36:00.001-07:00

i'm in a funk today. or maybe this week?

i dunno...

physically i'm doing okay. my back problems have subsided, and i'm walking without crutches or a cane. i go in to get the boot off and the brace on sometime next week.

i got in a car accident over the weekend, and although i was amazingly calm throughout the whole thing, now that i'm having to deal with insurance junk, i'm annoyed and impatient.

i'm also confused as far as what i want to do with my life. i have so many options, that i feel scared. i'm not sure if i want to go to school, get another job, lay low, do the same thing i am now, move far away... its frustrating. of course there are things that i want to do, or would be interested in doing, but many of them are just plain impractical.

patience is my problem with a lot of things...

I'm a Fighter, Not a Lover

2007-09-04T08:35:00.000-07:00

You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth". But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.

--Jesus of Nazareth

I hate turning the other cheek. I’m a prideful person, something of which I am none too proud, and sometimes all I want is my fair share of the fight.

I am, by nature (shall we call it Sin Nature?), a fighter. In times past, not so long ago, I had built a reputation for myself as being the one who starts the fight and finishes it too. Sometimes when I get angry I can hear the crunching of my opponents jaw before I’ve touched them.

If you’ve never been in a physical fight, it’s hard to imagine, but after the first blow is thrown, you become this amazing superhuman with no self control. Your ears start ringing, your heart starts racing, and the damage you can do seems limitless. You can’t hit hard or fast enough. You don’t feel the blows coming at you, because you are too busy hitting back. Many times after a fight, the next day you’ll look at your hand and notice it’s swollen, or that your arms and legs are bruised, although you don’t recall how you got them. I love this feeling. I love knocking someone down and getting my share of the fight. I love the painful day after, whether I won or lost the fight. I love feeling tough. I love people recognizing my lack of fear or my strength.

I have this fantastic façade that I put up. That nothing can touch me, hurt me, or affect me. I like to convince myself that I have very few fears and that I can take anything that’s thrown at me “like a man,” and in the meantime, put down more delicate members of my gender as being weak, whiny, or “too female.”

I am called, by spiritual nature, to be a peacemaker—not a fighter. Even in this calling I try to make peace by asserting my authority in situations and screaming, yelling, or getting in the middle of fights not my own, all in the name of making peace.

This weekend I was taught a very good lesson through the trials of my friend. I always think I can solve everything with a good screaming session, physical force and my infinite (ha!) strength. My first instinct when one of my friends is hurting or in a destructive pattern is to hurt them, making me a really horrible friend, now that I think about it. However, my mom gave me some very good counsel this weekend, “Do not condemn, Rachel.” And I was reminded on Sunday morning by my father, with as much as I have been forgiven of, and as much as others have dealt in love with me, so must I do also.

This weekend I realized that sometimes when people are hurting, the best thing is to love them with kind, calming words and a soft tone. Proverbs says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger,” and although I’ve known that in my head, the Lord revealed it to my in practice.

How can I, when I’ve gone through so much, and been given such mercy, treat others as I do and be considered a friend?

This has been an awful weekend. I’m so glad it’s over. But I’m so glad to see what change will come from it—in my life, and in the life of my friend.

Happiest Anniversary Ever

2007-08-30T10:55:00.000-07:00

Today is August 30, 2007. Today is a very special day for me. One that brings me great joy and a sigh of relief for making it thus far. Last year I started a job at Organized Sports in Chatsworth. My boss was a beautiful lady by the name of Wendy. We got to talking and I began telling her my story—how I had left my home, my family, my church, and education plans for a man, 9 years my senior. I’m not sure why I decided to spill my guts to this stranger, but I felt oddly comfortable with her. As we began to talk more, I informed her that I was a PK (pastor’s kid) and she told me that she was an MK (Missionary Kid). I remember tensing up, because I thought she would judge me, due to the fact that I was in a destructive relationship and I thought, foolishly, that she’d call fire down from Heaven on my head. She never did, but she asked me what I was doing in that relationship. I confessed to her that only a few weeks prior, I had found out my boyfriend and my best friend had cheated on me. She asked me again what I was doing in the relationship still.

I gave her the same answers I gave everyone. “We’ll work it out,” “It’s my fault,” “I love him,” “I’d rather be miserable then give up,” “I can’t hurt his little niece who lives with us,” etc… Wendy looked at me with such compassion and concern and said, “Rachel, tonight, you’re going to call me and tell me you went home.” I laughed and said, “Well, I don’t know about that, but yeah I’ll think about it,” knowing full well I had no intention whatsoever of thinking about it. I was staying where I was in my state of misery, sadness, and hate and I was going to enjoy it if it was the last thing I did. We finished out the day and as I readied to leave, she smiled and said, “I think you’re going to do the right thing.”

I was relying on my [then]boyfriend’s car for rides, but he worked on the other side of the valley and we had just moved about 4 blocks from where I worked, so I began walking. I was in such a delicate state during that time. I started talking quietly to myself as I walked. It was a really hot day, and I kicked off my high heels and started down Lassen repeating Wendy’s words, “Tonight you’re going to call me and tell me you went home.” I said it over and over. I began to get angry. Who was she to tell me what to do? I had heard it so many times from so many people that I needed to go home and leave the relationship I was in. Now a stranger was telling me. “MKs,” I thought, “I’m not going home, no one is going to tell me what to do. He may not love me, but he isn’t going to get rid of me so easily.” After the first block and a half I began re-living the last few weeks in my head. The discovery, the anger, the sadness, the hate, the hurt, and finally the apathy. (The apathy, by the way, is the real killer). By the second block I was picturing my niece, my sisters and brother, my parents and how badly I’d hurt them. By the 3rd block I was crying hysterically. The advice, letters, prayers, and words of my family, my closest friends, and now this stranger were echoing in my head. By the time I got home I was a mess. My [short term] roommate was smoking on the front patio, and I joined him. We were both stewing over our woes, but not really talking to each other about them. I went upstairs and called my [then]boyfriend. I told him I was already home, and I needed him to come home right away. He was at the pawn shop and said he’d be home shortly.

He walked into the house and I was sitting on the couch in a puddle. I was working on writing him a letter, though I’m not sure why, because I couldn’t just leave with no car. By this point he was used to me crying as I had done little but cry for the past month or so of our relationship. He held my hands and pulled me up to hold and comfort me, but as he did I looked at him, still in hysterics, and said, “I need to go home now.” He said, “To my parent’s house?” (we’d been living there previously). “No,” I said, “I need to go home to my parent’s house, now.” As soon as the words left my mouth I began trying to think of how to take them back. I was so confused. But the words had been spoken, and I knew if I took them back, it would be just like every other time I had intended to return to my family, and didn’t. He reasoned with me and asked if there was another way. Maybe I could still stay in Chatsworth and he could move back home, or maybe I could move in with someone else. Maybe we could work it out. I look back on these choices I was being presented with now, and realize that he had checked out a while back, and was trying to be kind. He had no intention of making it work, and I hadn’t the strength to make it work for both of us on my own. I looked at him and said, “One, more night.” But we both knew one, more night always meant a lot more nights, sleepless with unfinished business and woven with confusion for us both.

I half ran, half stumbled up the stairs to our room. He grabbed trashbags and I began stuffing the entire contents of my life residing there into them. Within 10 minutes everything was packed in his car and we were on our way to Moorpark. I popped in a CD that my sisters had made me. One of the songs on there was by Caedmon’s Call. It’s called “Hands of the Potter.” He was holding onto my hand, and I unrolled the window and lifted my other hand out the window while the song was blaring. We were both crying so hard, neither one of us could speak, but I began singing the lyrics:

Lord if i'm the clay
Then i've been left out in the sun
Cracked and dry, like the mud from the sty
Still clinging to the prodigal sonBut I'm on my way back home
Yes I'm on my way back home
Into the hands T
hat made wine from the water
Into the hands
The hands of the potter
Lord if i'm the clay then
Let your living water flow
Soften up my edges, lord,
So everyone will know
But i'm on my way back home
Yes i'm on my way back home
And Lord, when you listen for the song of my life
Let it be, let it be, a song so sweet
Let it be, let it be, a song so sweet
Let it be...
Lord, if i'm the clay then lay me down
On your spinning wheel
Shape me into something you can fill
With something real
And I'll be on my way back home
Yes i'm on my way back home

When we rolled into my cul-de-sac I began unbuckling. He hadn’t even put the car in park as I ran up the driveway. It was Wednesday, which if you know my family or have for any length of time, you know that Wednesdays are family night. I hadn’t called in advance and I looked in the screen door to see my family of 3 sitting at the table, I started knocking on the door and yelling “MOM! DAD! I’M HOME! I’M HOME!” over and over. My father ran over and asked if I was okay or if I was hurt, but all I could muster up was “I’M HOME, I’M HOME.” My mother, father, and sister surrounded me holding me. I began convulsing and screaming while crying. I tried looking out the window at my [pretty much ex-]boyfriend who was crying and dragging the trashbags filled with my life to the front door, but my dad, pulled me away and shut the blinds. I felt like part of me had come to the right place, but half of me was still with the guy outside. I wanted to say goodbye to him. But I couldn’t. My dad knew I couldn’t so he held me tight.

My mom went out to talk to him and as I heard that Dodge Neon start up, I knew it was over. I got up and ran to the bathroom. I began throwing up, screaming, crying, and yelling. I didn’t know if I was happy or sad. Complete or shattered. I couldn’t contain everything inside of me anymore. I was just crying “Oh, God, oh God…”

That night, I called Wendy. She was at a prayer meeting or some such event, and I left her a message. She was right. I called her that night, and I told her I went home.

I don’t remember much else of what happened the evening of August 30, 2006. I remember I refused to go in my room (And didn’t for a few days). I slept on the floor in the Family Room. I was a bit delirious and lay there while my dad stroked my hair and talked myself to sleep. I don’t really remember what I told him, but I do remember talking a lot of nonsense.

It’s been one year since all that happened. My family put up with so much crap from me, especially in the first few months. I was hysterical, angry, impatient, and half-crazy most of the time. I was always trying to think of a way to leave. A way to escape the healing. I didn’t want to be at church. I didn’t want to talk to people. I couldn’t get a job. I had no money, and very little hope.

If I were my family, I would have thrown me back on my butt out the front door. My poor sisters, Beky especially, had to deal with my half insane rants all of the time. My parent’s were always dealing with my complete untrustworthiness and temporary insanity (;)). Mike was privy to my late night rants and anger spurts. The girls had to deal with my occasional freak out sessions.

I had so much nervous and angry energy, I’d sometimes take off running out the front door with a pack of Camel Filters and run as far and as fast as I could while chain smoking.

I wouldn’t say there was any one day that things started to turn around, but I just remember slowly starting to forgive the people who had hurt me. I remember crying out to God and telling him I didn’t even know what to pray, but just that He would take care of me. People at church knew I had no money and they gave me odd jobs to earn extra cash. I rekindled my friendships with Ronni, Hannah, and Mike. I got a great job. I began sleeping more. Then I started praying for the people who had hurt me. I would cry over them. I wanted better for them, and no longer wanted to get even. My most precious Holly was born (who is by the way one of the biggest joys in my life). On New Year’s Eve, at the stroke of midnight, surrounded by my closest friends, Han, Ron, and Bek in person, and Mike on the phone, I was so happy to be done with 2006 but I still had a long way to go.

The people who have made the biggest impact on my growth and healing have been, of course, my family, My Mangies (Nan, Won Won, Lal, Deenie, and Bek), the guys in our Boulder group (Kar kar, Marky Mark, Jesse, and Mike), and my church body (Especially my Home Fellowship), and close friends who have pushed me and made me strive for better. Last but not least, Wendy, for pushing me over the edge and starting the Domino effect on my new life.

Today I thank God for his many blessings. I thank him for the people who have hurt me badly, and the people who have loved me dearly. I praise Him for his infinite glory. I praise him for His perfect plan. I praise Him for his perfect timing. I praise him because its one year later, and I’m no longer the sad, degenerate, half-crazed girl I was, and am now a lamb (a MANGEY ONE!) on my way to glory, new life, and peace.