Courage Is Alive In You

 

Art cred. to Elyse Burden

The urges to write something solid the past few weeks have been pushed aside and out. I let the monster of insecurity win and I didn’t even dare to give it a good fight. I kept shoving down words of people who’ve written about “enough space” down my throat in hopes I’d be reminded of courage. How her being great doesn’t take away from my being great. How there is so much space for all of our lights. Theres enough for us all and there is no “taking away from” or “makes me less than”. Shove. Shove Shove. Why couldn’t I overcome this time? I felt like FEAR was spewing out its normal monologue and instead of interrupting its flow; I sat there jotting it all down like if it was some new found wisdom I couldn’t be without. Sigh. I kept on though with my practice of changing the dialogue and meditating to let go of the unhealthy. I am good--She is good--We are great--There is enough space--No less than--Better together--I matter--Stories matter--I am tough—The divine is everywhere--Courage is alive in you--Courage is alive in you--Courage is alive in you.

Today is a new day and although only morning the day has begun on difficulty. You know when things go completely sideways and slam you to the wall in the process?? Getting yourself to forget the suffocation and get back to normal breathing is a task but we do it. Readjust and keep moving. Readjust then keep moving, yup. I tell almost everyone I converse with “life is hard-so stinkin hard” because truth and everyone needs to be reminded that its not just them. Life is hard, period.

I kept thinking to myself that this part of the story doesn’t really matter. The sprint to the finish line isn’t important because right after it we then begin climbing another mountain. We won’t be there yet, hustle and resilience is still needed. But it is important, every part of our journey is important. Its crucial to learn from our experiences so that we can continue to grow and expand rather than skipping to the end and remaining in our ignorance.  What a waste of experience that can be.

The sprint to the finish line for me right now is; ooof- my hearts beating faster; that our search for housing has begun. With severe discipline, I have saved up just about barely enough for us to begin our search.

I am terrified.

I’ve only shared with two of my soul sisters only because I know the initial reaction is excitement and I am anything but that. Don’t get me wrong the idea of moving forward is a good thing but its been a long time comin’ and things never go as planned. Readjust and move forward, remember? Yeah, me neither, shutup. I remember when I told that soul sister of mine that I had saved up enough and she smiled so big and said “That takes a lot of discipline. I’m so proud of you.” And I remember feeling like my soul just took the biggest, deepest breath of relief. That was a good thing but I feel the volcano about to erupt and it won’t be pretty. Big changes. Lots of hard decisions. A lot of new.

 I’ve learned that not only do I GOT THIS but so do the people who love me. They GOT THIS, too. Life is hard but we can do hard. Hard things we can do. Alone? Yes. Together? That too. Asking for help doesn’t have to mean that we don’t or can’t stand on our two feet it’s the decision we make when we know we don’t really have to. Sometimes we do things on our own and other times we don’t. Our strength doesn’t diminish based on how many times we ask for help. That’s the lie, don’t believe that lie. I know I can do this alone and I know you can do this alone but the awesome part is knowing that we don’t really have to. Our strength isn’t defined by a thing; our strength just IS. I’m talking to all of my fellow humans who don’t know how to let our egos-walls-fears come down so we do it all ourselves. All of it, all of the things. I reasonate with you so much. I’m you and we are the same and we are one. But I’m learning that sometimes it would just be easier if we’d say that our two hands just aren’t enough this time,for this particular situation. How many times do we extend ourselves for others and hope down to our bones that they reach out to because you can help and it’d be no bother-not at all. Why don’t we ever do that for ourselves? Oh, right, its pretty damn terrifying. Remember these words, our strength just IS. Our strength isn’t definable. Our strength is here, its right now. Sometimes right now needs an extra hand-heart-whatever and that is SO okay. Also, sometimes right now doesn’t need an extra hand and we shouldn’t get offended when that is.

Yup, that’s all I got today.

If it was helpful-WOOT-WOOT! Let me know how or why please-please.

If not then leave it here. Don’t take it with you.

Also, smallest update I can do right now. More soon, hopefully. 

Devastating Sadness, Me and Church

I was at the park having a picnic with friends when I turned to a soul sister of mine with watery, sad eyes and told her that sometimes I just wanted to go home but then I'd remember that I didn't have one and so upon hearing this she took both of her hands, cupped my face and said gently "I know love. I know." 

A bit later, I leaned against the fence surrounding the playground and let another friend know that I had no idea how to bring my sad energy into my community. I didn't know how to still feel like I belonged while being this sad. This beautiful sister-friend of mine turned to me and said "I get it. I'm right there with you." She told me how lately shes been struggling and that what I just said really hit home. 

Wow, sharing our hearts is scary but great too friends. 

That was weeks ago and today I turned to that same lovely-sister-friend of mine hugged her tight and told her that I was feeling really, really sad. I told her."I feel like I'm crumbling. Crumbling just like a stale muffin." Which then made us both laugh because whaaatt?? We sat together and watched our lovely community in action. Today, we had a church picnic/celebration. We watched the kids play and the adults deep in conversation. Bouncy houses, red faces, painted faces and stuffed faces because always food with us. ALWAYS food. SO many people that I love so very dearly yet I felt so sad. How do I still fit here even though I'm actually quite very sad?? Can I leave before everyone else does because I'm always last and left to remember how everyone has left home and I don't have one. 

When that sinking feeling inside me starts should I keep hugging my friends at random times and sometimes even when they are talking to someone else. Are they tired of me yet? Because sometimes I get tired of this overbearing sadness and I get mean with myself. These things are all things that happen and I still have no words to help with the whole how do I fit here with my sadness thing but I do know that the people you surround yourself with is so very important. That you matter so much that your peoples heart will overflow with kindness and love and you will have to learn to accept it. Today was a great day and I was so sad. That sinky feeling inside was very heavy today but I filled up on the weird, hilarious, super cute details to help myself remember that my sadness isn't everything I am or everything there is. 

Emotions can feel very intense and its hard to see your way out of that but thats why we don't do this life thing alone. Thats why I'm learning to actually reach out to friends, to let my needs be known, to allow myself the vulnerability to feel angry, sad, overwhelmed without all the ugly guilt. Sometimes well most times all we need is someone to say me too. I think the world needs more of that. More me toos and less being bullied by loneliness. Yes, that. 

Good Intentions, Flawed Outcomes

About a month and a half ago we decided to sleep in a different area than we usually do because our usual spot was getting burned out. A cop had already passed by a day before curious to our presence there. We are always very hesitant when a cop comes into contact with us because we never know just what type of cop we will get. Its either the judging "I'm going to do everything in my power to make you feel horrible" type or the ones who actually try for compassion. We don't run into the second type very much but let me tell you a story that meshes these two things together.

I have trouble staying asleep so of course when I finally begin slipping into a deep sleep there is a bright light shining in my face. Cops. A sarcastic "GRrrrreAAAtt" is my initial thought. I wake up my mom because she never wakes up first. We roll down the window and answer the officers questions. We tell them our names and what we're doing here even though that one is a bit obvious because we were asleep. One officer goes to check if any of us have warrants out and they check out minors names under missing children, just in case.They always ask for a bit of a background story to how we got here because curiosity. One officer stayed to listen and the other went to check for resources she could help us with because she couldn't believe we had tried all of them already. Meanwhile, Celest wakes up and whats the first thing she tell this young male officer?? You're probably thinking something like "hi" or "what time is it??" but nope. Celest wakes up and quickly tells the officer that she steals balls and that she ate nothing but pizza at school which by the way, "tasted like box". Great. Perfect. The officer wasn't concerned, not at all concerned. What Celest meant to say was that she steals the ball when playing basketball at school and that she had a bagel sandwich for dinner but pretty much the same thing at 2 'o clock in the morning. The woman officer returned with information we already knew about  but then also calls for her sheriff because "he knows more". This sheriff man arrives and could not be anymore arrogant and judgmental. I'm surprised he didn't make them give us ticket just for the sake of it. He left leaving the woman officer disappointed but she was determined to do something. After about an hour she comes back to tell us she was able to get us a night at a motel in El Cajon. Okay good, hopefully this night will end and I can get enough sleep for work in a couple hours.She asks us to follow her but after flashing my lights at her many times to get her attention I got gas then followed her to the motel, all the way in El Cajon, at three 'o clock in the morning. This room that we would only get a couple hours of sleep in then have to check out early and get stuck in traffic to go 30 minutes back into town to go to work and school. GREAT idea!!! Nope, not really but there we went. We finally got to the motel and she calls for the hotel person and he comes out and tells her that they are sold out. The officer gets frustrated with the people she made this plan with and calls them back up. I sure did not want to be that person on the other side of that phone call. She was pissed. She apologizes to us about the inconvenience then makes other plans for us to sleep at a shelter where they have brought out 3 cots for us to sleep on in their lobby. The second officer arrives and gives us three bags of food he thoughtfully got at a nearby CVS We drive all the way back with now two police cars escorting us back. One in front and one in the back. My mom wouldn't shut up about how cool it felt. I on the other hand was grumpy and very tired. We arrive to this shelter and the officer marches in then comes out about 15 minutes later pretty much stomping back to her patrol car. Close to 4 a.m. now. This wasn't good. She let us know that they had the cots all set up but that they would wake us up at 4 to clean, which was about an hour. She thought it was and I quote "unacceptable" so she said that we could park out front and sleep until day break. She was so sweet and apologized profusely but I couldn't help but wonder how much better it could have been if they had just left us alone after getting the information they needed. They left and we tried to go back to sleep but with it turning 4 everyone inside the shelter came out and talked, very, very loudly. I only got about 4 hours of sleep that night. Wednesday at 7 a.m I got up, got dressed and headed to work. We can do hard things I kept telling myself. 

Although I know the officers intentions were good I will not hide the fact that they weren't helpful. Even when we told them that we tried all the things on many different days and in many different ways. Nobody ever believes us when we say its just hard. Theres always the "oh but, there are so many resources out there" or "you're still homeless 'cause you wanna be" or "you just don't know how to save" all that bullshit is said countless times but I can't stress enough how witnessing these two officers postures go from curious disbelief to great respect helped us feel validated. They didn't believe us before but when they left us that morning they finally got it. They finally understood. 

Okay. I'll take that universe. I will take that. 

Rise again, like the sun

A few days ago, I was sitting alone eating cake while binge watching "Girl Meets World", like adults do, and all the thoughts and feels and things I didn't have time to actually feel throughout my work week were coming to me in a big rushed wave. I went to take a shower then I got dressed and walked around this house we were gifted with house sitting and I held myself. My arms wrapped tightly around my waist because there was nothing left in my ability to ignore or fight all these feelings away so I felt them and there was a lot of hurt. Then as I've been learning to do I reached out to a friend and let her know that I was eating all the things and that I was numb and overwhelmed all at the same time. That I was so deep in the depths that life was giving me an anxiety attack. She responded not too long later with a good long text reaffirming my worth and hope. The sun always rises, remember?? It said.

So, with that I sat down and repeated to myself. "Rise again, like the sun." Sometimes the amount of things that need to be done and the amount of time and money and patience that needs to be present can become scary and overwhelming that I feel like missing work and staying in my comfy safe place. I don't want to meet life right where it is anymore. When and why did I EVER think that was a good idea?? NO. Nope, never again. Whether it be physical or emotional things its all too much so I am just staying within the comforts of my safe little space inside myself. BUT, but then things remind me to rise again. So many things, they're everywhere. Whatever may do it for my soul, I'm reminded "hey! hey you! RISE!" So I do, after some kicking and screaming from my soul ,maybe even during, I rise again, just like the sun.

I wanna get that tattooed some day. 

Rise again, just like the sun friends. Just like the sun always, always does.

More Than What We Suffer

Lately, my hope has forgotten itself.
 Well, maybe not completely but it sure is running around without its head attached. Life in all its stuff and random slaps to the face can make our human-y selves dissolve into yuck moods and adult temper tantrums. Oh, everyones looks differently but all still pretty much the same. We aren't all that different, me and you. Sometimes daily routines can be so hard! Like sometimes I just wanna eat breakfast and not worry about my hair, in its big troll glory, scaring the public. False alarm people, there is NO zombie apocalypse today I just couldn't put myself together this morning. Yup, life is hard but we know this. I know this just as much as I know the moon is still here when the sun is out. So highlighting on these past two weeks with finding out my grandma whom I love so much for the strong, silly, stubborn woman she is has a tumor in her stomach and is coming here to the big city get surgery and how the youngest of my brothers lost the van he laid his head in at night and now is out in the universe with no where safe to go at night and my heart aches bad even with all my frustration with him and how the oldest of my brothers can't come to discover his real unhealthy issues and how my new job is wonderful but stressful because there's no home to get ready in or leave my family in. I feel all of that very much. I feel it and I cannot help but get caught up. I cant help but feel it all so intensely the squishy person inside me curls up real small in the dark expecting the outside to keep on functioning normally. Feeling all of this stuff is so okay, I mean shame should not be a thing for feeling all my feelings but so much of the time I can forget that there is more to me than what I'm feeling so sometimes I write favorite quotes of mine on my arm as a physical reminder for these important things and today it was this. "We must become more than what we suffer"

If today or this week or year or any past yesterdays have been hard and need validation I want to say I see you. ME TOO. Lets rid each others taunting-lonely-shadow feeling inside because ME TOO.

Unchartered Vulnerability with Anger

All you need is 40 minutes to yourself to cool down. That can look like many things but in this case it looked like me slamming the car door  while screaming words and stomping upstairs right into the lobby of Celests vision therapy office to sit on a pleather black couch and stare at a tiny rock waterfall. I needed to get away from my mother. I was fuming. Mad as hell. I felt like crying and yelling all at the same time. I kept resting my head back to stare at the ceiling hoping to beat gravity from making my tears come down. I did not want to be sad just yet. I needed to feel my anger just a little bit more and so I did. Which is what I do, A LOT. I lean into anger and believe when it tells me I should feel it just a little bit more. Of course just a little bit more turns into a lot more which leads to storing away anger instead of letting it go. That anger comes out often and it is a part of me that I am terrified to be vulnerable about. I usually lock myself away to make sure that no one sees me being effected in such a way. I don’t want anyone to know of this horrible anger stored inside of me. I would really prefer people to know the gentle, sad, full of laughter parts of me. Admitting to other people that some of my deep hurts transformed into rage is unbearable for me. On my journey of today though I’ve discovered that this coping mechanism confuses and halts my growth and my healing. Allowing myself the freedom to admit my anger, to show my anger in front of friends then NOT run away of shame; to show the parts of myself that are hard and mean is SO FUCKING TERRIFYING. Its uncharterd vulnerability.

Its no secret that my family is all messed up and that my mom and I fight way more than what is perceived as normal. Its also no secret that my brothers have brought pain into my life for a very long time. My life has been really, really difficult and I have had to teach myself to survive when life hits me with a paralyzing pain. I can admit that and add that nobody could ever come out of that without having traumas still attached, which I very much do but that doesn’t mean I necessarily want to admit its true. I want to so badly be the exception. I don’t have any mean, rough parts inside, promise! Lies! Lies! Lies! Recognizing my hypocritical tendencies is a hard but good step to take. Everytime something stressful or ridiculous happens within my brothers or family my adrenaline spikes and my whole body shakes. I get defensive and the words SICK AND TIRED keep coming to mind. I get angry at my mom for treating them the way she does. DON’T CRY I want to tell her GET ANGRY AT THEM but she doesn’t so I do it for her. I have gotten so much better to not direct that stored up anger towards the people around me; to not explode at Celest for doing something-anything really. That is something I would often always do and just to even admit and write that down creates the hugest lump in my throat and I feel so disgusting. The wise gentle part of me though keeps reminding me that I have been but barely learning and that I cannot want to hate myself for acting like a child in the past because I obviously actually was one in an impossible situation. Impossible situations bring out the worst AND the best in people. I can still be a good person even with this horrifying anger inside me, right?? Yes, that.

A lot of the time when sharing the raw non-polished up parts of myself I get really scared of people looking at me and thinking how much of a broken person I actually am. I think a lot of that fear has been the control factor that hasn't allowed me to be vulnerable about the angry side of me. Even if I no longer believe that I am a broken person, that shadowy fear that follows me around still fiercely rattles me.

I am angry.

Yes, those three words terrify me because I have seen the people  that come from the same blood become nothing but that and I do NOT want that to me happen to me too. I have seen the things anger can make you believe. I have seen the destruction. I have witnessed anger seduce the very best then never lose its grip. I know the power of anger so do not try to convince me I should not be terrified for I have witnessed it all firsthand. But I also confess to you that I have this feeling fluttering somewhere deep inside my soul that makes me feel like I have the power to break through all the things anger carries me through. It makes me believe that anger won't become all of who I am. I feel it like a whisper in the wind or like a soft touch gliding across my back. I feel it pacing and hoping I won’t forget to always light up my peace flare inside myself. I feel it, I just have to begin to fiercely believe in it. 

Anger won't win.  Gotta believe in that. 

The Good or Bad Life Coin Toss

I bumped into someone I once knew last week and it revealed some important thoughts of shame about me and my life I didn’t realize I had. Shame had tackled my confidence as I spoke to this individual. You are so pathetic, I kept hearing it say. I walked away as quickly as I could and ran to my car when the coast was clear. Sure, a part of me was really happy to see them but the other much bigger part of me wanted to do like an ostrich and stick my head in the ground. I didn’t do that but I was very tempted. Instead, I drove us all to the beach because there’s nothing like the healing powers of the ocean. The beach wasn’t crowded and I got to park under a big beautiful tree which was a good start. This particular spot was full baby crabs so as Celest giggled and screamed her way comfortable I began working on the sandcastle. Something about using your hands to mold and create something that brings upon good things. I could feel my black shorts get damp as I sat down but no matter I had bigger things to tend to. Am I ashamed of everything my life has been and how I’ve overcome it all? Was I ashamed of who I was now? And was I aware that this person that I was stuffing back into a little box of shame was the same person my people celebrate on the daily? I continued to shape and mold my castle drowning out life happening around me, horrible pun intended. Celest now joined me and began shifting her small hands to pat and mold the wet sand along with me. Eventually, my Styrofoam cup broke but simultaneously settled on one question; What was there to be ashamed of?? My neck was beginning to hurt and the sun was dehydrating but I stayed regardless. Many rooms inside of myself began opening and revealing their stuffing to me. I was going back and forth trying to unravel the shameful thoughts. Trying to create any sort of platform to help me understand why I felt ashamed of my journey and how I’ve lived through it. I began to see a pattern. Have I believed this whole time that I’ve lived a bad life and so in turn I believed myself to be less than??

Yes I did and is it all true? No, absolutely not.  Lifes worth is not determined by how bad or good or how easy or hard it has been. One life does not outrank another life. Perhaps that is how society-politics-whatever else can convince us to believe but let us not be fools any longer people! Granted some people do hold other lives like children, animals, special needs, elderly, etc with special grace but that is not what I am referring to here. I am talking about the shame that comes with having lived/ing in poverty. The shame that comes with the making of poor decisions due to a lack of education. I am talking about the shame that comes with dealing or watching the cycle of abuse whether its physical harm to ourselves or the ones we love. The shame of just becoming another statistic and then there’s the shame of not getting ahead quick enough. The shame I struggle with greatly on a day to day basis. My struggle is not the definition of my worth or lack of. My life is not outranked by another life. We are all equal. That’s what I work on believing on a daily basis. That’s what I unraveled as I was making a sandcastle with my eleven year old. Tell you, this creating stuff with our hands and pain brings upon good things. My shame was rooted in how I viewed my life. My life has been hard, yes but not bad. Life will always hit hard but it will also always allow the universe to send me healing and for me healing looks like friends-dogs-pancakes- trees-the ocean. I have begun to understand that life as a whole is not a bad thing so consequently my life too cannot be a bad thing. The good and bad equally co-exist just as much as sadness and joy do. I do not believe that I am a sad person. I do believe that I feel great sadness, deep rooted peace, and joy together to which are the roots of me. Even if I may be pulled more to sadness than to joy, that is not all that makes up who I am. So I ask myself why then can’t I have many “bad” things happen in my life without them outweighing all the very good things in-between. The joy and good things always seem to wisp away much faster but if we experience them fully they can give us just enough to get by.

There shame is taken care of and out with the garbage. NOT. Oh how I wish it were that easy to just throw away my shame but nooo the universe wants me to be hands on and creative and stuff. Maybe I can’t throw my shame out with the garbage but maybe I can transform it just like I do with my pain. I see pain like a big heavy anchor and its heavy and big and loud and even though sometimes sitting with your pain is necessary staying there can be harmful so I’ve learned to transform my heavy anchor pain into fuel. I use it to move forward and maybe theres my answer. Maybe all I need to do is throw my shame in the compost bin and let it become worm poop HAH no but really maybe my shame can be transformed into much more useful things that can help me heal and move forward. Yes, that!!

I think back to my encounter with that old friend and if I could go back when he asked what my life has been like since we’ve seen each other I would say hard but fruitful and even though my life now is still really hard I have the most beautiful loving tribe living and breathing right alongside me. I would say how at peace I am with who I am or how I work hard to keep that peace on the daily. I’d tell him how much wiser I am because of my difficult experiences. I would stand up straight and smile even if my hair was horribly tangled and frizzy. Even with my linty cut up shorts and faded sweatshirt even if I hadn’t showered in days. I’d tell him that my heart is bursting at the seams with all there is to feel and its spectacular. The pain and the sadness but the joy and the peace too!! Or I could just go with “I’ve been okay” smile and walk out the door because I’m pretty sure my breath smelled of onions and my armpits were killing fruit flies with their stench. Totally missed putting on deodorant on earlier that morning. OH well. EVERYBODY HAS ARMPITS OOKAAYY! jeeeez.

Life, The Cheese Grater

Source- Tumblr- Artist Unknown

I sat in a dark blue plastic chair, set in a small hallway manually reminding myself to breathe slowly to possibly calm the anxiety that was boiling over inside me. It was the kind of setting that took you back to sitting outside the principal’s office in middle school. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” I repeated internally. I quickly gave up trying to smooth out my blue button up shirt with the wrinkles then claiming victory. The long cardigan I threw on over it was supposed to deter attention and make my appearance look more professional than lazy. I tried to go for the “I didn’t sleep and get ready in my car this morning” look. Pretty much nailed that one. I was now surrounded by three guys who looked like they knew what they were doing and what was happening, which by the way was very annoying. They should have done that somewhere else, somewhere far far away from my insecure self. I sat up as straight as I could and put on my most convincing face of “I know what the hell I’m doing”. A short, smiley woman with wavy blonde hair came out to give me a paper to fill out while I waited. I filled it out and hoped the guy standing next to me wouldn’t choke on the strong anxiety I was now polluting the air with. The guys got called in which made me feel better to be alone but also nervous because my “I got this” face was fading quickly. A tall guy with blue eyes and messy curls atop his head came and asked me to sit inside. I found a seat away from people because at this point I was positive I had sweated through my deodorant. There was a group of people watching a video while an older woman lectured them about how important their jobs were. I steered my focus onto my breathing again and hoped the uncomfortable, awkward feelings weren’t oozing out through my face too much. The fake smile on my face was beginning to hurt. The older woman dismissed them all and suddenly there was fast paced movement everywhere. The room was still and quiet after they’d gone. It turns out the older woman was the one who was supposed to interview me and she stepped right out the door along with the group. When I discovered this I felt so ridiculous that I felt like getting up and running out of the room without looking back. After a couple minutes the blonde haired woman came in short of breath and let me know she’d be conducting the interview herself. We stepped into a smaller room with two desks that were much too big for the space. I sat down and nervously straightened out my shirt. She acted kind and began asking me questions. Then after a few minutes she asked “Tell me more about yourself? What are some important things I should know about you?” I looked at her and stayed quiet for a moment too long and laughed to myself because the first thing that popped into my mind to answer her question was that I was homeless. I could think of nothing else about my entire identity other than the fact that I was homeless.

                ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was an exclusive interview I had weeks ago with the Save The Children Organization which I did not get a call back from. Maybe it was my wrinkly shirt or maybe it was because I could not answer the last question she asked me. My identity had completely lost itself to my situation. or Maybe I just sucked. Maybe people just don’t hire homeless people. I did end up admitting that I was homeless at the end of the interview which was a big mistake. My intentions and efforts were surely snubbed by fate for the umpteenth time. Oh well.

Its so easy to lose yourself in something painful and hard. I hadn’t realized I was so far gone until that day and that question. I had put my whole identity into what was happening to me instead of the things that actually make me well me. I am homeless. Homeless is not me. I have experienced trauma. Trauma is not me. There are so many things that we can attach ourselves to. I've stripped homeless from my identity since then and its left me feeling really confused.

After I desperately tried to answer the blonde ladies question she told me she would talk to the boss lady and that I should expect a call between 4-6 in the afternoon the very same day. I got up and thanked her for her time and that I looked forward to hearing from them later. I got out of the small office and the office outside of that one and took a deep breath once I got back to that suffocated hallway from earlier. I raced down the stairs and opened the door to freshly polluted air and people walking briskly to wherever they needed to be. The noise of it all brought me back to a calmer state and I was able to smile without hurting myself. I did something brave I told myself. Holy SHIT I did something really brave. I went to an interview and I got dressed up to the best of my ability and I worked through my anxiety even though I was shaking so much I had to put both feet on the floor to find some form of balance. I tried, oh hell yes, I tried. I didn't know it then but I was holding the pieces of my identity in that moment. That very moment explained more of who I am than homeless ever could. 

Coming on our second summer in this same situation my heart is beyond broken and heavy. I feel like this whole time my heart has lay in a pile of quick sand and the more I move to get out the deeper I sink. My ability to feel is now beyond anything to be described. My hope faces extinction on the daily but thankfully each time has overcome. I have a grand fear though for the day when my hope dies and my ability to see beautiful possibilities goes along with it. I push and fight to stay in a space where I allow myself and my life healing Now more than ever do I understand how fascinating and frustrating healing can actually be. It never uses the timeline we lay out in front of us.  I have come to understand that healing happens slowly, terribly, and completely out of order. 

"Never discourage anyone who continually makes progress, no matter how small." -Plato

Yeah, that. My life has become a consistent murmur of small progress. Of small, slow, fascinating, frustrating progress. Buuut to be a bit more blunt it is complete shit. My identities co-dependency with my situation is not a healthy place to be but the longer we stay here the more fighting I seem to have to be doing. Life can sometimes be the cheese grater against our skin shaving off layer by layer the good things that we're made of. I'm here to tell you that although difficult and painful you can heal and work towards wholeness. We can be forever working towards wholeness. Forever trying and yes, oh my god, YES, its really shitty and you will get tired of people saying over and over that gods got a plan so you'll scream out BULLSHIT and you still won't feel any better but listen...healing is real and it happens. It happens. It happens. It happens. I'm trying not to bullshit myself here but I do believe that. I do believe that healing happens. Its all shitty. It really is but its also creative and in a weird way quite magnificently beautiful.

'Til next time. Soon I hope.
Love. Love. Love your people hard for me, please.
Hug them too. Hugs and laughter are healing for just about everyone.
Life is hard.

“Life turns me into a ghost 

but then hope happens and 

I am human again.”

-VàZaki Nada

Hummingbird Beauty

We rescued a baby hummingbird just now from a huge terrifying parking lot. It kept trying to fly but kept slipping and plummeting to the ground. At first I let it go thinking it could fly but I soon realized it was too small so we put it in Celests soft pocket and continued walking, terrified and concerned out of our minds for this precious creature. I looked online because google always knows. I read and walked, miraculously not walking into anything or tripping. Google said to call the professionals if there was no nest around or sign it could fly away on its own. So we continued walking and I remembered we stay right by a animal hospital so we walked faster. My legs began to shake and my heart was pounding so much I felt like I was going to throw up. I was terrified because this gentle, beautiful creature's well-being fell into our hands. Literally! We were almost there when Celest reminded me of her bird book and how it says that hummingbirds are said to be peace and healing. OH NO BIG DEAL because we were only carrying the mascot of life!!!!! My stomach turned into knots and my mind was going a thousand miles per hour. I could not process what was happening but I was trying and it was scary and invigorating at the same time kinda like life. I hope we're doing the right thing I kept repeating to myself. Oh please let this be okay. Let us be doing the right thing. I'd check up on it every couple minutes and it would stare at me with such trust that my heart would swell up and exolode until tears were running down my face. We got to the vets and I told them what happened and they called the special people and right before leaving her she stared at me for what felt like eternity and it was so sweet my heart did like fireworks. You gonna be okay, baby. You gonna be strong and fly some day soon.

We left and now I'm here reminiscing. Tearing up from the beauty. Lifes been especially hard lately and not just for me but for my peoples so hearts are heavy all around.

Hope just doesn't seem to hang around me amd my grumpy, hurt self anymore and healing well I keep on trying to hold hands with it but my hands keep slipping.

This made me rethink stuff.

Sometimes healing and hope aren't big, strong fliers sometimes they can come to us gentle and small. Maybe this whole time i was looking for big, loud and bold when i should have been searching for the small, gentle and fierce. The stuff we can nurture and hold it in a soft warm pocket inside ourselves and maybe its okay if its not loud and maybe its okay if we need to nurture these things. Maybe thats how we make it. Gently, slowly, bravely. Flying then plummeting then resting then trying again.

I find comfort in knowing my healing, hope, courage WHATEVER it is for each of us doesn't need to be huge and bold. It can be small and clumsy and still be fierce and beautiful.

I'm gonna go shed a few tears and air out because apparently sweat doesn't care if you're having a moment.

Did you get all that? I sure hope I made sense. ❤

Theres Something About Mothers Day

I wrote a Mothers Day essay last year and if haven’t read it then maybe do that now because you’ll have a better understanding of what I write here today.

That’s here.

Read it? Okay great.

I was sitting in the back seat of a friends car the other day after picking Celest up from school when Mother’s Day came into the conversation. I got uneasy real fast. I sat there remembering when I wrote about how Mother’s Day was hard for me. Friends were reading then private messaging me letting me know they were thinking of me. I was not left out in the cold, people met me right there in the hurt and pain. Brutifal.

Celest took out the heavy binder she carries in her backpack to get some papers she had quickly drawn up for Mothers day and I sat there anticipating, teetering on the edges of despair and joy. She had a paper with a big heart smack dab in the middle of it with the words Happy Mothers Day written across it then at the bottom it said “To mom- From Celest”. I was hanging from the edge of despair trying to talk myself into feeling okay some damn how. It must have all shown on my face because she handed me some lose papers with hearts drawn on them except I laughed and told her that she had put “To Alison” at the bottom. Life can break your heart a thousand ways to Sunday a wise prophet once said or maybe that was Bradley cooper in the Silver Linings movie, whatever. As I felt myself getting into a bad mood I focused on the joy that being able to mother this child sitting beside me has brought to me. I focused on my breathing and the scenery just outside the window in hopes of settling down.

Earlier that day I had gotten into an argument just like I’ve done many times before with my mother. We have a very complicated relationship, her and I, that’s been strained and stretched by the chaos of life. Its been a couple years now where Mothers day is not only difficult because of my reasons with Celest but because the relationship with my mother has mostly been artificially forced. The shame that comes along with not wanting to celebrate her is real and very much alive. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, I do, and think shes an amazing woman but due to the intense situations life has put us through theres just not much left to uphold. We are only human and am grateful for what we do have but still I have the strong urge to hide under my blankets until all the commotion passes. Stuffing my face with pie sounds quite appealing too.

A couple minutes passed and Celest tapped me on the shoulder to show me another picture she had just drawn to give to mom. I smiled seeing that all that time we spent practicing her handwriting has paid off. Happy with my acknowledgment she continued drawing. When she finished she ripped out the paper then handed it to my mom. She then turned to me and asked me if I would like one and how could I turn those big dark brown eyes down. I drifted towards the window again when a little while later a paper was shoved into my hand. It was a big heart with an arrow through it. I turned to her and asked her why she hadn't written Happy Mother’s Day on it and she said "Oh" so nonchalantly I didn't know whether to burst into tears or rip all my eye lashes off. She scribbled some words down, smiled then handed it back to me. Oh my, your heart would explode just as mine did by reading what she wrote at the bottom of that page.

At the bottom of the page were the words “Happy Nani Day!” I smiled really big and looked at Celest with gratitude. That little rascal knew I was happy with her gift and just like a lot of kids her age would she shrugged her shoulders smirked really big and with an elongated whaaaat made my heart soar. I have been trying so hard for so long to find an opening that would bring me to a place of peace with all of this and I've finally been gifted with it. I don’t need to be wished Happy Mother’s Day by Celest because I have my own damn day. Celest may not call me mom but she knows that I’m nothing short of it. I have made such an impact in her life that when I tell her to write Happy Mother’s Day she writes Happy Nani Day because she feels I deserve my own day. How heart breakingly beautiful is that.

So even though for the past couple of days I have been avoiding facebook with its piles of mother’s day posts and even though my own mother and I have a complicated relationship I will not hide under my blankets this time. I will feel it all. I will feel the hurt of my life and those of my friends.  I will hold space for all the mothers who've lost a child, who've never been recognized and with the sons and daughters who have to crawl through today missing their moms and those who feel shame because of their lack of urge to celebrate. Hurt and gratitude are going to be snuggled up next to each other today. Pain and beauty are married to each other forever walking hand in hand.

I have yet to meet a woman who has not mothered someone. We are all tenderly and fiercely mothering our people and its so freaking beautiful. Each one of us with our own brutifal stories, I am with you, remembering you, feeling with you. Standing with soft strength at the shore letting the waves bring in hurt while simultaneously soothing it away. I may stuff my face today with lots and lots of food all the while thinking of the beautiful mothers dreading and celebrating today. You’ll find me snuggling next to hurt and gratitude. 

PS. About the picture, it was just a stamp. One day maybe. 

Take Me To Where I Heal

When I get too far gone,

and I shield my face from yours

and my ability to hold back tears disappears

lead me to the ocean,

show me how Mother Nature lets her water flow freely

and the day my insecurities get the best of me

take me to a top of a hill,

the wind will flow right through the spaces of me

and curve itself around the rest

reminding me of my wings and the freedom I posses

this is when I will begin to feel as a part of the universe once again

frustration will overwhelm me

and peace will leave me

and so when it does 

lay me down in a soft spot

I'll look up to the trees and see their shapes

remembering how through winds and rains they still grow,
 survive, and continue still to the next day

some are bent and some crooked

remembering how I can live like they do

bent or crooked

 withstanding the winds and rain

take me to where I heal 

and help me to remember

I am the universe bundled up in skin and birthmarks

take me to where I heal

so that I may see my scars in a different light

take me to where I heal

so that I may find hope again

That One Time At Church

You wake up at 6:30 in the morning and lay there looking outside through the small corner that the cardboard on the window doesn't cover. You rub your sore back remembering the routine each night. The many times you twist and turn and readjust your pillows to a position that will give your back and neck the least bit of discomfort. You remember how you lay and wait until that moment of defeat creeps in; when the exhaustion becomes stronger than you and you drift off. Your dogs now knowing you’re awake come to the front of the car where you lay to greet you good morning just to then crawl their way into your blanket to get warm again. Your body resists the coming moments of beginning the day but your bladder is screaming at you otherwise. Everyone is awake now and the process of folding blankets and stuffing pillows into a corner begins. You drive to a park nearby where plenty of other people just waking up without homes go as well. You walk rapidly to the restrooms to release. You then begin the search for an outfit with the small amount of wrinkly clothes you have stuffed into a bag. You’re tired but the suns shining and the breeze is soft and cool so you look up to the trees then keep going. When you are all done eating cereal and getting dressed you all hop into the car and drive. And so then the day begins.

This past Sunday, I went to church, even though I had already given myself permission all week before hand not to go to but for some odd reason I woke up with this tickle inside me that kept on nudging me into the direction of church. I walked in and stood in the back as per usual. The toddlers scurrying towards the snacks then to and away from their loved ones while the bigger kids paint and color. Then as the worship band began there it was. I felt as if my heart had been replaced with a 40 pound brick. OH, I thought to myself this is the same heaviness poets write about. It’s not as if I've never felt it before it’s just that this time around it was much different. I had felt this deep, sad, heaviness and instead of feeling like I was drowning a strange thing happened; I felt peace releasing itself into my veins. I don’t know how sadness or pain happens to you but mine doesn't usually come conjoined at the hip with peace. After it all maybe sure but never with it. I felt so still and safe inside myself; inside the chaos, the sadness, pain and disappointment. I stood in confusion and great fear for the rest of the service. A few friends came up to me before, during and after service each of them with their kind eyes and gentle smiles. Each one insisting they just wanted to see and hug me. One after another as if taking turns they’d come to me and deliver to me love. Each and every time reminding me why I believe in friendship so fiercely. Reminding me why when I leave I always come back; for the snacks, of course. I don’t think I could ever tire of those people and their gorgeous smiles coming to hug me. I don’t know why or how I came to feel this stillness in the middle of chaos but it’s one of those great beautiful mysteries I’m just going to let the universe have; right alongside Beyoncé and pie.

Perhaps that was the divine itself giving me a hug or maybe it was me losing my basket of sanity muffins, I don’t know. I do know is that when the lyric came on screen about waiting for God to come rescue me I did not sing along. I stood there by myself in snotty silent protest. I remember a time I did believe in a rescue of sorts but then I woke up to the reality of being in the same spot. I don’t believe that God wants us to believe that we aren't strong or brave or bad-ass enough to get through really tough times. The days of believing in being rescued are long gone for me. I believe in my friends and their friendship being the stitches that hold me together when I can’t stop falling apart, that’s Gods will to me. I believe in rising up to the fear we tinker with and then no longer letting it control you, that’s Gods will to me. I believe in myself and my ability to get through some really overwhelmingly difficult crap. That God knows I can rescue myself time and time again from the pit holes of life. I believe God is betting on me, on us because he knows just how much shit we can go through and come out of, alive and well.

I'm tired and I'm ready to give up. Yeah, it doesn't get much realer than that. Earlier this week I had a long moment in which I considered giving up. I thought what if this is it?? What if it never works out or gets better?? What if my efforts will never be enough?? What if all our hopes of things like SSI for my mom and Celest don't work out and what if I can't get past all my fear from past traumas. What if I get a quick job and end up going into deep depression again?? So many what ifs and all I could think was yeah I'm ready to give up, I'm ready to give in, to surrender, to admit that I've been defeated. I even stared at a beer bottle a second too long and it terrified the crap out of me. This wasn't who I was. I don't run from things and surely do not give up because its gotten too hard. Its gotten to that point where I've honestly considered giving in. I remember thinking to myself "HOLY SHIT! I'm losing my grip. I'm losing my grip on hope." Hopelessness could easily be a couple steps to my left but I wouldn't know that because the lines are all blurred. I am walking by faith believing that a creative solution is out there waiting for me to discover it to get us out of this. I'm stumbling my way along. Finding my way through the fog all while fighting quite fiercely the urge to give up, to give in. Because this will not be the end. This will not be what becomes of my story.

Friendship is my most treasured possession. It is the best way for me to describe the divine here on earth. Even though I love to be by myself I am so obsessed with connecting  and being with my people. That is what makes me shake off the thoughts of giving up. Sometimes friendship is what saves me. Its what opens my hand and allows me get a better grip on this hope thing.

That peace I felt streaming through my veins was just what I needed. It reminded me that I GOT THIS. I am doing just fine. Peace is not as far away from me as it can sometimes feel. Its right here, flowing inside my veins. Pumping itself through that beating heart of mine. I GOT THIS. God knows that, in fact she sends me my friends to remind me of it.

“You are meant to fight. When you are sick, your body fights for its right to function. When you hold your breath, your body fights for its right to breathe. There are billions of tiny events—from the surface of your skin, down to the very cells of your body—that have to happen in order for you to be simply sitting here today. If your most minuscule parts haven’t given up yet, why should you?”
--N.T.

“...and then I remembered this basic religious principle that God isn't there to take away our suffering or our pain but to fill it with his or her presence...”--Anne Lamott

Heart Bursts.

Life is hard and sometimes it just gets too hard and before you know it your sadness outshines the rest of you. You talk, laugh, make sarcastic comments. You engage but still somethings amiss. Thats real. Thats the truth, sometimes. But every now and again something incredible happens and you feel so much you feel like you've bursted on the inside. As if you're heart cannot contain it so it overflows. When it happens you awaken and realize that not only are you engaged but your soul is as well. And if you're anything like me you'll begin to make these half kidding half serious weird crying faces. You'll put a hand over your heart and feel a rich goodness seeping into your pores. A moment like that just happened and I felt the need to share.

I was getting into my car after the school bell rang and I left Celest to line up with her class. I sat down and as per usual my two pups were overjoyed with my return. I had just noticed a bottle of lotion spilling so I got frustrated but then i heard a knock on my window. I turned and it was a father I see everyone morning. Oh hello. He raised a plastic bag and I opened my door to see what was happening because at this point I was very confused. He handed me the bag, smiled then told me in Spanish it was for the dogs. I thanked him not knowing what exactly I was grateful for and closed the door. My mom came in just as I was about to look inside when i told her what happened. We looked inside to find a brand new toy and bowl set. My mom found the receipt inside. I sat in confusion trying to process. Then it hit me like a lightning bolt jolting my body. He knows. He knew I kept telling myself. He knows our situation and instead of making judgement or making himself feel like a super good person, even though thats all the makings of a decent human being. He felt empathy so in turn felt compelled to do something. To do what he could. Because one of the things I've learned is that most of the time people just give what they have. I'm no longer concerned with the rest.

They give what they have.
Thats beautiful.
That is all, carry on.

Raging Against The Whispers

How often do we compare and contrast stuff then make ourselves feel terrible?? Often, lets say often.

I have a default trait to isolate myself. I am at a constant push and pull of isolating myself and reaching out all my peoples. Not dogs. Dogs don’t count I’ve realized. I tend to roll up into a ball and sit in denial believing the worlds stopped for me even though I know it hasn’t. I am like a rolly polly in that way. Personally, I struggle with people living at me.  Every time someone says they are going on a trip I want to roll up into a ball because WE aren’t going on a trip. We never go on trips, what a disaster we are! When I see photos of friends having fun with actual real live people AND sometimes even with dogs, BOTH at the same time!! I freak out over that too. Stupid over achievers. When I hear about people having fun and looking happy, I stuff my face with food and tumblr, pinterest the shit out of the rest of my day. I can’t handle people constantly LIVING  AT ME!! This is much too much.

One of the main reasons this has become a problem of mine is because when you’re homeless there is no such thing as normal. The weight is always there and you are always hurting, aching, longing. Its going to be one year in April. One whole year of living in our car and trying to keep our sanity. Yes, I am having an extremely hard time with it.  So many stories, tears, screams, and SO much fucking frustration. This has been happening for a whole year now guys. All of it, for a year!!!! Are you having trouble swallowing that? ‘Cause I sure am. It doesn’t seem such a long time ago when I was writing about only three months and the stupid sand getting in my contacts case. There are times I get lost in a day dream and think what if its all been a dream??  Yeah just wait, soon someone is going to come to wake me up, pat my back and tell me its all been a terrible, no good dream. But of course that doesn’t happen. I don’t get to experience the sigh of relief that I’ve been desperately hoping to feel. It’s not a dream and I am already awake. Its hard, this whole life thing.

I tend to get stuck in this phase of feeling like people are gone living their lives and I’m here waiting for my life to begin. It’s hard not to get stuck in that place because things are ten times more easier when you have a home and stability. I keep telling myself that when I get a place I am going to do this and that and be all around super awesome.  I can’t keep up with daily routines if every day is uncontrollably different. If I don’t have the simple luxury of a place to live then yes naturally I will feel defeated and sad and stressed. I will feel all the stuff there is to feel but when I really think about it every day for the rest of my life will be uncontrollable and hard. I will always feel many things, all at once too. Emotion has never been a lonely street for me. Stuff will always get lost, broken and I will try to learn to carry on anyway, one stupid limp at a time.  I have absolute no control over the universe and the happenings it sends to me. Things will continue to not work out no matter how much better I try to do things. People will always seem happier than I am. People will always seem to have good stuff happening to them. All those things will continue to be true and weigh me down but if I just stop focusing on everyone elses life and how much more good things seem to be happening to them then maybe I can be awakened from my fear. Instead I should try to focus on how much good stuff is happening to me, in my life, right now. Good things happen to me too. All the time. I just need to be awake and paying attention to feel it. Be present, Analaura. Do what you can with what you got, yeah that.

About maybe two years ago, we had a place. It was a wonderful two bedroom apartment with a long patio in the back. It was near bus transits and the freeway. We moved in and I began to decorate it into a home, our home. It was everything that I wanted coming together. I thought to myself this is it, this is when things fall into place and become perfect and normal like everyone elses. My mom had just transitioned into working in a new office with one of the lawyers shes known for years. Celest was doing well in school. Things were supposed to be running smoothly now. I was wrong, of course, within about two weeks I began getting these outrageously strong stomach pains and extreme nausea. My plans to get a job and maybe a couple college classes went straight into the garbage disposal. It got so bad that I couldn’t smell any food or eat it because of the extreme nausea. That was the worst because throwing up is horrible but wanting to throw up without actually doing so is torture. I woke up at 5 every morning crouching and moaning in pain. I lost about 20 or thirty pounds. I was in and out of the emergency room every week or so and since this was before Obamacare I had no health insurance so the bills were stacking up by the thousands.  We brought my grandma to stay with us for a while to be with me the days my mom couldn’t. I was in horrible health and I spent my days reading, sleeping and humming to myself from pain. They couldn’t find anything wrong with me and all they prescribe were strong nausea pills that put me to sleep for hours at a time so I refrained from using them. My mom couldn’t concentrate at work because of it all so she ended up quitting in order for her to take care of me and her sanity. I was in the hospital many Saturdays and still trying to go to church every Sunday. Still trying to show up, hiding all the IV bandages with long sleeves. I would try to show up for lifes stuff in hopes that I would get better and be able to get back to my plan of stability. I was sick for almost a year. I hid it very well though from friends and since I never talked to extended family that was a non-issue. It all went exactly how I didn’t plan them to. Awesome. NOT. Things never work out the way we plan for them to. Things go wrong all the time and we have to continue to keep re-adjusting. We eventually moved out of that place and then transitioned into a trailer in some ones backyard. Then from there we get to here, to now. I have recovered since then and still to this day don’t really have a clear idea of what went on with my body. I was told by a holistic doctor who is now practicing in modern medicine that all the stress and feelings I had with me while being homeless for whatever time were being released from my body. She said our bodies go into survival mode when we are stressed which only lasts from a couple minutes, to a day, maybe weeks but my body was that way for months so now that all that stuff was no longer needed it was trying to release it all.  It had to re-learn how to function without survival mode. My body was trying to recuperate but had trouble in the process.  Did that make any sense?? Point is, I did what I could with what I had then. I don’t know if we get a place once again my health will spiral again but I do know, well what I’ve learned and learning is that no matter how many times things go wrong and they are plenty that will, I will still be here tomorrow. I will make it through even though sometimes it feels much too hard to. I will make it to tomorrow. I am so much more resilient than I remember to give myself credit for.

The thing about my life right now is that it’s happening so there is no waiting for it to begin. I tend to go into that state of mind where I sit and wait and watch life happen to other people then get even more depressed because I want to be experiencing life like that too. Oh how often I forget that I am already in it and living it. I’m alive, damn it! I can’t continue to wait for things to stop falling apart because I will be left waiting for the rest of my life. Fear and pain and the mess of life will always be here. Glennon was right; my friends aren’t living AT ME but maybe possibly trying to live WITH ME. They are right there feeling all the stuffs. Coping, re-adjusting, creating, doing what they can with what they’ve got. I am practicing to not retreat into my default of isolation and spread those wings of mine and realize that good things are happening to me too not just to other people. I don’t have it down but the more I practice moving with life and its people the more I am able to get through all the pain that’s demanding to be felt in me. The more I am able to feel all the good things.

I will still be here tomorrow.

 I will still try to show up for life’s stuff with IV bandages and limps and tear stained cheeks and sad eyes. All of that and more.

 I will readjust and resist the whispers that tell me to surrender.

“You will know me,

Constantly blooming and never surrendering”

(excerpt from Lullabies)

The two photos below are from two different friends at two random times many weeks apart but they carried so much love during times I had returned to isolation. They were sent to me completely random but the moment I got them was absolutely magnificent. These women reminded me that what I've been doing with what I've got has been enough because I've kept making it to tomorrow. I beat myself black and blue so so often and then retreat because I can forget how much strength I've had to have in order to keep on moving forward. I kept showing up for all of lifes stuff and for that I am one hell of a bad-ass. I forget that much too often.  WE forget that much too often. We keep on making it to the tomorrows when some of the todays are unbearable. That’s bad-ass. If anything I am overachieving just by still being here tomorrow, still alive and moving forward.

Still soaring and raging against the whispers of surrender.

“…because its easier not to try again, its easier to hide whatevers left of your heart and soul, its easier to pretend that you are eternally broken than to risk being broken again, but you know what, that’s okay, because things get worse and then they get better and then they get unbearable and that’s life, you end up getting unbeatable, you learn to duck when you must and dive when you should, you learn to live expecting death around every corner, and you learn how to come to life every time death slaps you in the face. Just trust in yourself more than you trust in sadness or in happiness all the same, trust that life is worth the risk and the resistance, and you- you- will be ok, even if things fail to be.”

 --Vazaki Nada

“You are so good. So good, you’re always feeling so much. And sometimes it feels like you’re gonna bust wide open from all the feeling, don’t it? People like you are the best in the world, but you sure do suffer for it.”

-Silas House, This is My Heart for You

Home

Written; May 16th, 2014

Appreciate your home extra hard for me today.

Don't make your bed just roll around in it.

Have a movie marathon in the living room.

Read on your front steps.

Shower comfortably. 

Put your clothes away.

 Hang them up in your closet.

Hang lots and lots of pictures.

Lay down on the carpet for no reason but to relax. 

Walk around in your socks.

Make dinner. 

Have desert.

Sit on your counter tops.

Do a cross word at the dinner table.

Run around just for the hell of it. 

Sleep in a bed of your own and don't get up until you feel like it.

Do all of this for me while I can't. 

Do it and love your home with its pile of dishes and dust bunnys. 

With carpet stains and dirty bathrooms. 

With soft couches and messy closets. 

With privacy and no check out times. 

With toys and socks under everything. 

With your little gardens and dusty outdoor chairs. 

Love your home for being the place to go to at the end of the day.

 Love it hard for me today, please.