The withering sun


Dried and shriveled are exact verbs that describe the decomposed state in which I find myself today.  There is no music that can make me want to dance, laugh, or see the sky.  I finally understand why I have always believed that the stars never existed.  I can see why the stars are (‘are’–this is a fact to me) just bright things that we can only perceive from far away.  Fool’s gold.  Mermaid tales.

Today, as with many other days, I attempted to touch the sun.  I saw the rays shining outside of my window.  I dared and thought that perhaps today I could.  I rolled down the window of my wondering mind, and reached my hand towards the ocean.  I could not touch the ocean, I knew this, but if I could only feel the sun on my hands as I tried to reach it–it would mean the world.  To touch the sun.  Its warmth, the promise of life.  But there was nothing out there for me.  Because when I reached my hands out, it was cold.  Similar to the hug from my father that I imagined, but never came.  Like that one night that I dared to imagine this embrace so vividly that I felt it.  But he was like the stars.  Warm up in the sky.  Beautiful and bright.  Unreachable.  Unreal.

The sun; the sun was gone.  The sun was there, but not for me.  Hands like these never get to touch the sun.  At least not for a long time.  Just for a bit, so that I can treasure the memory deep inside my very hidden and secretive heart.

Yet, I reached for the sun.  There were shadows, and these shadows were not caused by the small presence of a light source somewhere.  The shadows were caused by the same imagination that causes the stars to be seen from down here.  Warm up in the sky.  Beautiful and bright.  Unreachable Unreal.

And I screamed at the sun, and I reached my hands out.  I screamed at the sun, because if it is such a powerful force…why couldn’t I also feel it?  To feel the warmth, to burn in it.  To die in it.  But I could not bare that I could not feel the sun.  I could not see the rays, I could not feel the breeze.  Because it was over, and my spirit was dying.  Because I caged my spirit away, in an effort to protect it from the rays that would never come.  From the waves that my soul would never see.  From the clouds that would laugh at me because they would always be all I could see.

Yet, I tried to dance.  In the darkness.  I raised my arms high above my head.  I moved to the nothingness of the empty stars.  Warm up in the sky.  Beautiful and bright.  Unreachable.  Unreal.

And I lived!  I lived one more time!  At least for another night.


I lived because tomorrow the sun would come.  And perhaps tomorrow, I would reach towards the sun instead of the waves.  I would go searching for my fool’s gold.

I danced.  I felt ridiculous…but I danced.

I did not dry.  I was not shriveled.

I was the sun.  I was the warmth.  I was the ray of light.


Mighty Eagles

When the other yo* takes over things become unpredictable.  She cries, smiles, and gets angry all at the same time.  The faces of post traumatic disorder can be confused with those of depression.  This is potentially why the depressed, the suicidal, the traumatized tend to speak similar languages.  They try to encourage each other by getting angry at each other.  Ever seen a suicidal person encourage another to live?  I think this is because they are looking in the mirror.  The image in the mirror is not as pretty, but if you put another face on your image then it can be easier to backlash.

This is why I am not afraid to share the rants that consume my soul.  Because if this energy is not let out, something else may emerge.  But yesterday…I was great yesterday.  

Opposé à formidable

Getting back is not the cure.  It is not the cure because I always come back.  There are times when I wonder if I will ever make it.  Those days when my faith is predictably strong.  Those are the same days when I question if my faith is as strong as it should be.  My steps in the Christian life have been methodical; I have detected how to prove and disprove things.  Perhaps not the most intelligent way, but the way that has kept me sane and present.

I blame the machine.  The machine?  This dangerous machine that has been given to all of us:  the brain.  

How do you control it?  It is constantly running, pumping, spitting out information, shitting out dreams.  I know…that last one sounded pretty gross.  I just couldn’t find another way to describe it that would hit the target where you’d understand.  Sometimes the painting of graphic pictures is what it takes to get attention.

Attention…the thing that introverts hate yet have to get used to.  It doesn’t matter at all…we are all still eagles

mighty eagle

*yo:  Spanish for “me”

Faith can be a shitty place

There is a point when you really have to look at yourself and accept that having faith that things will get better may be the thing of fantasy books.  Child’s play.  Not real.  Fairy tales.

Have you ever had that situation when you felt that you were getting somewhere; that things were working out.  That feeling that things were finally coming together?  You sort of get the feeling, but you are very careful with the notion.  You guard your heart, your mind, your soul because very deep inside, somewhere in there you know that disappointment is just about to hit you.  It’s a matter of time.  Sometimes disappointment will stick around, like a thief in the night and wait until all the lights in your house are completely out.  Disappointment will sneak up onto your house, and it will listen in to see if you are smiling.  Any signs of happiness would be FANTASTIC because that is how you crush someone.  You crush them hard when they are at their best.

The fall is so much sweeter.

Here’s where it is a true bitch:  uncontrollable circumstances.  This is what I’m referring to:  at least when someone is evil with you, you can seriously point it out.  You can put your finger on it because it is tangible.  But what happens when you can’t really put your finger on it?  What happens when the evil comes from the very good that you are trying to achieve.  You dig yourself out of the damn pit, you tell yourself that things are going to be better this time.  You tell yourself that you will not allow anything to take you down!  Why?  Because you are a lion, you are a leader, you have what it takes….no, no, no !  You don’t have what it takes, but you are working towards it.  ‘Cause this world can be forgiving of those of us that at least keep on trying.

But no.  That’s not how it works.  Deep in your mind, you know that it is BAD to lose your faith.  What sane Christian would go there?  Isn’t doubt bringing dishonor to God?  What about the cross?  What about Jesus?  He died for you…and you pay back this way?  ‘Cause you are supposed to wait faithfully.  Why?  Because what’s behind the curtain is so much sweeter, so much better, so much stronger, so much…

But you don’t know that.  You wonder about tomorrow, yet…will tomorrow ever happen?  How could you know?  You are directed to wait faithfully.  I mean, isn’t that what the Bible says???

Lamentations 3:25 “The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;”

Hmmm…so, what’s going on here?  If Jesus is your Savior, the Lord of your heart, the One that makes all things new!  If that is so, what is happening to you?  Why aren’t you new?  Why is your faith so shifty?  Are you as dirty as Judas?  Is it true that, perhaps, you will not go to the kingdom?  Because, after all, your faith is simply not there.

We operate under this notion that God will respond to our requests.  Again, the Bible tells us that

Psalm 37:4 “Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

Who are you going to blame?  DO LIKE ME, BLAME THE DEVIL!

It sounds funny, stupid, delirious, yet somehow fun.  Fun because it is a dislocated thought.  Who blames the devil?  Shitty Christians…count me in.

This is not criticism.  I told you this blog can either make you, or upset you.  I feel that part of what keeps me sane and alive is the fact that I can speak my mind this way.  I feel safe.  I feel strong.  And I get to be a shitty Christian that speaks her mind.

BLAME THE DEVIL.  He is already wicked (Yeah…I still think the devil is a he).


I promise you…I’m not an asshole

Life is comprised of a series of experiences that gives us feelings.  Those feelings are truly important because we use these as a lens by which we perceive life.  As I always say, perspective is key.  The way that you respond to a specific experience depends tremendously on how you are feeling at that very moment.  There’s been times when I knew that something was truly not that serious and I ended up responding like a true asshole.  But I tell you right now…

I’m not an asshole.  And I am inclined to say that you are not either.  But then, why do we do it?  Why do we respond so rudely?  Are we suffering from bipolar disease, are we out of touch with reality, are we bullies?  Are we assholes?

Nope.  There’s a little thing that we all suffer from:  human nature.  Mind you, this is not an excuse to act out and hurt people’s feelings.  Absolutely not.  Some people have managed to regulate feelings in a way that we cannot tell what they are truly feeling at that moment.  It is not about being fake, hiding, or becoming unauthentic.  It is about self-regulation.  Think of it this way:  if you allow others to see exactly the things that bother you the most…you are left open.  This has never been about becoming a plastic person.  Self-regulation helps you better explore yourself and understand reasons for your reactions.

I think that performing a count down from 10 or 5 may help.  Nevertheless, if you are hot headed like yours truly…then this is not going to work.  You simply need to get a true sense of the things that make you go nuts.  It takes nothing but seconds to go from 0 to a million.

Self-regulate; otherwise, you may be mistaken for a complete asshole.