“Ashes”

when I think about death
one word comes to me…
“paralyzing”

paralyzing to the one who passed
because life on this earth
ceased

paralyzing to the one left behind
where life seems to only happen
in the mind

why is my mom’s death
paralyzing my life?

most mornings
I find it hard to “move”
I can “think” about doing things all morning
but the action seems
invisible

when people say “how are you?”
my first thought is “my mom died”
I don’t SAY it
but it’s there
not haunting me
but reminding me

I just feel
p.a.r.a.l.y.z.e.d.

when it’s time for work
I get in robot mode and show up
when it’s time for flags
I lay there and stare

why is that?
am I morning?
am I tired?
is this grieving?

that’s why I’m writing
I’m hoping to clear the way
for motivation to enter in
for flags to get done
for accomplishments to happen

maybe it’s good
my mom and I weren’t that close
I can’t imagine how that’d be if we were
but that’s the paralyzing part

when my mom died
the hope of ever becoming closer
died with her

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Warning: Long post about abortion!

I love my kids dearly and love to talk about how our relationships have healed and grown, but this morning, I want to talk about the few who didn’t make it.

When I was in high school, I got pregnant. If I remember correctly, I was seventeen. I won’t give too many details about this time of my life because it was heartbreaking, and I still haven’t figured out how to write about family without offending family. I know, I know…I need to get over that, but until I do, I’ll leave what was going on in my life out. I’ll just tell you a few things.

I was living with my sisters.
I was in my senior year.
I was sleeping with (at least) two different people.

Needless to say, the possible fathers didn’t want the baby. I was going to school and working to pay the rent. And on top of all that, I had been throwing up about seven times a day. It was too much for me, so I decided to have an abortion. Continue reading

“Trails”

Being drained and exhausted
Yet wide awake from writing a paper
Leaves one to wonder the strangest things

Like what’s it all for
Anyway
I mean, you work so hard
For what may not happen

Then my thoughts trail off
To the past

Like why would you want
To sleep with me
Yet not get to know me
Not spend time with me

They really missed out

Then my thoughts trail off
To tomorrow

Like how I’ll dress to impress
Those higher than me from out of town
Make my hair look nice
And fix my makeup

But they don’t wanna know me either

Then my thoughts trail off
To this moment

Where the Presence of God
Fills my lungs
And every part of Him
Knows and Loves every part of me

To be known by Him
Is to be unknown to the world
And that’s the best place to be

“Someday”

my heart
is meant
to be captured

how do I know?

whenever the scent
of a man
shows interest
I swoon

a weakness like that
wouldn’t exist
if
my heart
wasn’t meant
to be captured

“New Generation”

by Nathan’s age: 15
I had already been having sex and was drinking
by Carolyn’s age: 19
I had already had one abortion, one child, and was married
by Katie’s age: 25
I had been stripping/selling my body…jail…divorce
by Kyle’s age: 28
I had quit dancing but was way strung out in so many ways

at age 32
I found God
at age 33
I found sobriety
at age 37
I found my worth
at age 42
I found true freedom

almost on a daily basis
I’m reminded how I’ve changed the course
my kids are nothing like
who I used to be
and are growing more into
what I’m like now
yet still holding on
to their own uniqueness

I never have to worry
about my kids turning out like who I was
because I walked into that church at 32
it changed their lives
it changed my life
and in the end
it helped change the lives of others
because I stay on this path with God

My Past Makes Me a Whore?

I just saw a disturbing post. It was about a woman who has “a past,” and because of “her past,” they’re calling her a whore.

As much as I wanted to defend her, I couldn’t because political bullying is intense, so I’ll speak in my own defense.

According to this post that I saw…
My past makes me a whore

I used to be a stripper
That makes me a whore
I used to sell my body
I’m not one to be honored
My one-night-stands are countless
I must be a slut

You see
I know that’s not true
But why do people spew it?
Why do they tear down the present
With the past?

I know I’m a woman of integrity
Who deserves to be honored
The past will NEVER define me
Nor should it define anyone else

A Different Kind of Mother

Not everyone
had this loving support
from a mother growing up

No, there are some moms out there
who did only one thing…give birth
yet that’s the most important thing needed
to create a possible legacy

Yesterday, I heard this really good sermon
about being nurtured through childhood
yet a couldn’t relate
it was a beautiful sermon for others though

But the similarities were hidden
in the mother I am today
I’ve become “my own” through God
and I love all my kids very well

Each one thinks they’re my favorite
because each knows how special they are
to me and to God

My Latest Breakdown

Last night, on my drive home from work, I had the worst breakdown yet.

I “could” tell you what led up to it, but that’s not the type of person I am, so I’ll only explain what I went through.

In the car, I was listening to “The Greatest Showman” soundtrack, which I often do because I LOVE it. Anyway, during the second song, I began to cry deeply, not because of the lyrics but because of my mom’s death (I’m assuming).

I was crying so hard, I could barely see, but I couldn’t seem to pull over. The thought came to me, but my foot wouldn’t reach out for the break, and my cruise control was set on seventy two mph, so I did my best to keep the wheel straight and drove.

At one point, I was so scared, I cried out through my wailing, “I DON’T WANNA DIE!” and asked Holy Spirit to help me drive. Obviously, He did because I made it home safely.

All I wanted to do was make it home.

Just like any other job, sometimes, you have your bad days, and yesterday was a bad day at work. From being talked to about something out of my control to being talked at through… It was, almost, unbearable.

Without Jesus, I don’t know how I would’ve handled it all. I really don’t understand how people live without Him. I would never choose to go back to that life.

But my breakdown…it was so intense. During it, I cried out a few things:

“WHY ARE PEOPLE SO MEAN!”
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?”
“I CAN’T HANDLE THIS”
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?”
etc.

I’m so glad God was there with me. Had I not known that, I doubt I’d be here writing right now.

In the past, I’ve never really given grief too much thought, and now that I’m dancing with it, I look forward to the times when we sit out a song or two. MAYBE, someday, I’ll understand it, but for now, I’ll just live through it.

“Delete”

sometimes people hear what they want to hear
and only see what they want to see

words can be damaging
whether spoken or written
and when people speak or write from darkness
it’s a conduit for pain

I can’t imagine being mean to someone
who just lost a loved one
but honestly
I bet it happens all the time

my heart goes out to all those affected
by other people’s opinions
during times of mourning

whether your mourning the loss of your mother
or maybe mourning the loss of a friendship
an ability
a dream
an opportunity

just like grief has no boundaries
neither does loss
and both are individually tailored
to fit one’s internal wiring

thank God for those who stand with you
and fight for you
because if it was up to me alone right now
I wouldn’t be writing this

I’d be cowering away somewhere
afraid to speak
afraid to write
afraid to reach out for help

what other people think of me
is NONE of my business
I truly believe that
and God’s giving me plenty opportunities
to prove how I believe

the good thing about darkness being spread
through written words is
they only have power
if you read them