Oh My God

Lots of people like to put the saying 'Faith, Hope and Love' onto fancy little wall decorations.

I understand hope, and I know love. Faith I'm a little unsure about. 

Faith in what? What even is faith anyway? Is faith the same as belief? I don't fucking know. This is not a post full of answers, this is a post about a question: what do I believe?

A little backstory...
I was raised in a thoroughly Christian household by a drug-dealer-turned-around father and a raised-Christian-under-the-worst-of-circumstances mother. Every Sunday, we went to church. Every morning we read the bible. Every evening we said our prayers. But I never felt any of it. As much as I wanted to, I never felt a thing. 
     Inspirational music, heart-wrenching testimonies, and fantastic, too-good-to-be-true stories are the hallmarks of Christianity. All this stuff, it's supposed to make you feel things deep inside. But I feel nothing.
      Not the right things, anyway. All growing up, the other kids at church treated my family different...like we weren't as good as they were because we were poor. Later on, when dad made more money, they just treated me differently because I was ugly and socially awkward. So I felt alone in church, I felt angry in church, I felt sad in church. 
     After I had started cutting myself, I went to my 'youth pastor' to ask for help because I wanted to kill myself. He made me tell my parents, promising me that he'd help me get better. Instead, he treated me like shit and did nothing to help me. So I felt hatred in church. 
     Now, I am old enough to choose my own churches. But I still feel alone. Like I'm so horribly different from everyone there that I don't have the right to be in a church. Sometimes it's so bad that I can't make it through the service and I have to leave. 
     I read my bible sometimes, I go to church sometimes, I drop my hard-earned money into the plate, I sing the songs, I pray as hard as I can to feel something but I CAN'T. 
     I believe in God. I do. I just don't see any other explanation for the world around me and how it works. I pray sometimes...and I think God hears me. I THINK. But I want know how to do this whole 'Christian' thing. At least, I think I do. 
     It says in the bible that God can harden your heart against feeling things...is that what happened? Have I missed my chance? Am I going to hell now?

     Yepp. I'm fucking confused as shit. The basic question I'm trying to pose here is, how do I believe in this? How do I 'have faith'? And HOW THE HELL DO I FEEL SOMETHING ABOUT IT? 

Anyway. Now that I feel like shit and have a hundred questions to sort through in my head, I'm gonna go smoke. 

Hang on,
Ness

Light Blue

Go look at the Argentinian flag.

I'm pretty sure its one of my favorites, because a work friend of mine told me a story about it.

That light blue on the flag there, that's a hard color to produce. So the Argentinians came up with a neat-o phrase: "If you want light blue, you have to work for it." Meaning, anything beautiful (like that color) or necessary (like getting better) or just generally worth having must be worked for. Worked for and fought for. Things worth having don't just happen, usually. So, next time you're breaking and you don't think you want to get back up, remember that phrase. Then get the fuck back up. Start over. Get better. 

Hang on,
Ness

Happy Easter?

Holidays, for some reason, are harder for me than normal days are.

Why? Probably because on holidays, it is especially apparent that I am not as I should be. I see my family, happy and laughing, enjoying each other's company. Then I look at myself, putting on a pretty face for the benefit of others. Always depressed, always alone. Every year, several times a year, it's always the same. 

     Today is Easter. Today, I will once again be surrounded by my family, but I'm going to make this holiday different. Instead of wondering why I'm not the same, I'm going to remind myself that this is my first-ever holiday being better. I'm going to do my best to put to use all the shit I've learned over the past month. Hopefully, I'll be just like they are...comfortable in their own skin, holding their own instead of running away. If I can't do it today, I'll keep trying until I fucking get it. I am blessed to have these crazy Italian bastards...and today I'm going to remember that. 

Today, I will also remember the people who can't be with their families, either because they're away on business (like my brother fighting in Afghanistan last year), or they live far away and can't afford to make the trip (like my aunt Roe) or because they've gone away somewhere to get better. 

Today, remember hope. 

Happy Easter, you people. 

Hang on, 
Ness

Break And Breathe

Tonight, I feel small.

     The sky is clear, and the moon is full. Well, I lied. There are a few small clouds, and they are beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful. This is an amazing night. When something is this perfect, it makes me hurt inside. I have no idea why, but I've always felt an almost physical pain in my chest when I see something beautiful that I know I can't hold on to. 

     Tonight, I feel small. Not just physically small, though...I feel young. Like I'm just a kid who needs someone to hold her and tell her everything will be ok, and tell her that she is beautiful and wonderful, just like this sky I'm sitting under. I don't know why I feel so sad and small tonight, but I do. Its frustrating to feel this way when I don't know why I do...I guess this is depression? Either way, I can't figure it out and it hurts. 
     I guess I'm not all better yet. But I am getting there. On a night like this before I started getting better, I would have looked at the sky and thought about how I don't deserve to be alive to see it. Then I'd think of all the things in my life that I don't deserve. Then I'd cut myself as punishment for being alive, and I'd lie awake all night berating myself for not being dead yet. And to tell you the truth, tonight I kind of feel like slipping back into what I know. But I can't, because if I don't fight these battles, I will never get better. And I will never be able to look at the sky when it's all black and silvery and beautiful and feel anything but sadness. 

     I sure hope this shit gets read by somebody who needs to hear it, somehow. Because while writing this stuff down is helping me by allowing me to sort out my thoughts and see my progress and remember what I came from, it's pointless to put all this out there if it's helping no one. 

My thoughts are so scattered tonight, can you tell? This post doesn't even really have a purpose other than for me to try and understand what's in my fucking head. Three posts today, what the fuck.

     Anyway, tonight I will make a conscious decision to be ok. I will not fall. I will not fall. 

Hopefully, somebody else out there is making the same decision. Hopefully somebody who hurts is making a decision to turn things around, to be better tomorrow than they were today and to be better next year than they were this year and to actually be around to see next year. 

Hang on,
Ness

And The Greatest Of These...

...Is Love.

One of my favorite sayings goes like this: "Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it."

Being broken isn't easy. Healing is even harder. I have found that three things make this possible: hope, hard work, and love. 

     Hope is a huge fucking deal, and I've written about it before. Hard work is obviously a given and I'll talk about that another day. Today, we discuss love. 

     By love, I don't mean that gushy, white-picket-fence, buy-me-a-fucking-ring-already shit they like to force-feed my tv. I mean the kind that my friends had when push came to shove and I was checking out. The kind of love that fucking breaks everything into pieces like legos so you can start rebuilding. The kind of love that strips you fucking raw and leaves you on your knees, broken a thousand different ways and encountering a strange feeling called hope. The kind of love that it takes to look at the darkest side of someone, kiss her fucking scars, and be able to look her in the eye and say you're not giving up. I think to be loved like that is what we're all really looking for in life. I think that love is sacrifice, and I think that love hurts. I think that it cuts you sometimes, I think that it breaks you sometimes, I think that sometimes you don't think you want it. I sure as hell didn't want it when it interfered with my end. But in the end, it saved me. 
     
     And if I can have nothing else in my life, I want to have that kind of love. I want to find the ones like me and I want to be to them what my friends were to me. What they still are, what they always will be. I want to say, "I have been there. And this is going to hurt you. But it's for your own good and in the end, you'll be here to thank me." I want to have that kind of love when the ones like me are kicking and screaming and pushing me away and begging me to let them die, because that is what was done for me. After they're through the worst, I want to take their hands and say how proud I am of their progress, how glad I am that they're still here.  And they, in turn, can go and do the same for others. And in the end, with this kind of love, I think we can save the ones like us. 


     Now, for those of you who want a happy ending fit for a chick-flick: I have found a song that I want played at my wedding. I can't get married for 19 more years or I'll lose a long-standing bet, but when that time is up, they will be playing this song either for the first dance, or at the end of the ceremony when the fucking wedding party gets the fuck out of the church (provided The Mr. in question approves). 

Forever - Fireflight

Sometimes, I feel so cold
Like I'm waiting around all by myself
Loneliness gets so old
I'm in the lost and found sitting on the shelf
Been stuck for way too long
But I hear Your voice
You're who I'm counting on

Oh, tell me You're here
That You will watch over me forever
Oh, take hold of my heart
Show me You'll love me forever

I know that You can tell
When I start to let my hope fade away
I need to catch myself
Open my ears to hear You calling my name
Been fighting way too long
But I hear Your voice
You had me all along

When I'm starting to drown
You jump in to save me
When my world's upside down
Your hands, they shake me and wake me

Oh, tell me You're here
That You will watch over me forever
Oh, take hold of my heart
Show me You'll love me forever

Listen to that shit, people. It's fucking golden. 

Hang on, 
Ness

Scar Tissue

Sometimes, as we all know, the scars are invisible.

[This post is written for a friend. Hopefully you know who you are...this is what I'd say to her if I could. I don't know what to say to you because I've only been on the wrong side of this track. But I hope maybe it helps a little bit.]

Sure, we all have scars. I know at least three people (myself included) who have a scar above their eyebrow from running into something as a little kid. We all fall down, get scraped knees, and have something to show for it for the rest of our lives. Some, like me, have thin white lines all over their ribcages and legs from a razorblade, like a roadmap of the horrible places you've been. 

     And we all know that not all scars are visible. These are the marks left on us from the cutting words people say when they don't understand us. They're what's left of the formerly perfect skin surrounding your sanity, before somebody ruined it with an action that left you torn into pieces. 

     I know there are others like me. I know there are people out there, wearing these invisible scars. And if I could tell them anything, it would be to have hope. There is healing. 

     There are some things that people will never understand just by looking at the surface of things. Like why a girl like me, with a perfect life, would want to ruin her skin with a razorblade, would want to kill herself. And to tell you the truth, people like my parents will never know unless I tell them. I can keep a secret so well. I live with my parents and younger siblings, and day in and day out they have failed to see that I was dying...because I hid it so well that it was impossible to tell that I was someone completely different than who they thought I was. Scar tissue, it seems, is fucking heavy, but people like me can carry it like we were born with it. You'll never know. 

    I guess the point of this post is to say that people aren't what they seem at all. And when everything they've been hiding becomes too much to hold inside anymore, everyone around them gets blindsided and broadsided by these terrifying realizations. Things happen. Solid people fall. Sane people lose it. You can know someone for years and never know until it's too late that they feel too far gone to save. 
     But they can be saved. 
     I could. 
     I was. 
   
     Healing can be accomplished. Hope is still fucking there, you've just got to see it. 

      Scars don't define you. They never, ever will. You need to choose, however, and choose wisely: are they going to be your shame, another reason to hide? Or are your scars--both visible and invisible--going to make you into something?

     I don't love my scars. I hate that my ribcage looks the way it does, I hate that my left leg has the words 'fuck up' carved into it. I hate my invisible ones even more...but I'm learning to deal. None of this will stop me from living. Don't let it stop you. There is much yet to finish before you give in. There is love, to be given and accepted. There are people who need us. Don't let your past determine your future. Don't fucking give in yet. 
   
Hang on,
Ness

Cake Pops

Today is my little sister's birthday.

And I almost wasn't here for it. But that doesn't matter as much as the fact that I AM here for it. 

She requested a "bouquet of Starbucks birthday cake pops". And that is exactly what I got her. 

Today, I feel especially grateful to those who saved me. 

Thank you. 

Hang on,
Ness

Set Apart This Dream

There are some songs out there that I think everyone should hear.

Yes, we could all do without Rebecca Black's 'Friday', and I'd be just fine if I never heard anything by Miley Cyrus ever again in my life. But 'Set Apart This Dream' by Flyleaf is one of those songs that I think every girl should add to their 'I feel ugly today so I listen to this' playlist. 

Set Apart This Dream - Flyleaf

Close your eyes little girl
You're a princess now, you own this world
Twirling in your twirly dress
You're the loveliest far above the rest

You build your castles in the skies
Stars reflecting off your eyes
And angels sing on silver clouds
And no one cries, screams or shouts

Oh, set apart this dream
Oh, set apart this dream for me
Set apart this dream for me

Close your eyes pretty girl
'Cause it's easier when you brace yourself
Set your thoughts on a world far off
Where we only cry from joy

Oh, set apart this dream
Oh, set apart this dream for me
Set apart this dream for me

Oh, lovely and beautiful, precious and priceless
You're so much more than you know, heart of the purest gold
Pure clean and white as snow clothed in such splendor
Oh, what a beauty for me

Set apart this dream
Set apart this dream

Oh, set apart this dream
Oh, set apart this dream for me
Set apart this dream for me

For someone like me, this song says everything I wished someone would say. Perfect? Priceless? Lovely? None of those words crossed my mind in reference to myself. But it's true: no matter the damage done, we as people are still all of these things. Sometimes when I feel like I'm nothing at all to anyone anywhere, I'll listen to this shit, or I'll scream it in my car, and then I feel better. Because it's true. 

I wish I could explain to you people what this stuff means. What it does to you when you hear it. It's hard finding a reason to go on when all you know about yourself is that you don't deserve to. Then you hear something like this, and if you let yourself believe it, it's just like, "Holydumbfuck!" 

Anyway. Listen to this song. 

Hang on,
Ness

I Did It Again.

Today was a good day.

Today, I confronted some of my more physically painful memories...the ones that made me run away and black out and throw up.  And guess what? I fucking won. 

     I am beginning to do things I thought I never would. I am allowing myself to trust again. To be vulnerable. To be open. To be me. 

     I once read that freedom has a taste that the protected will never know. It's true. You never really value things like dignity, safety, and innocence to their fullest extent until you lose them. My innocence is gone. But my dignity and the feeling of finally being safe are coming back. I understand these things on a deeper level. I hold on to them with everything I've got. Because I'm free now...I'm fucking done being hog-tied by my fears and my past and my hatred for myself and the little raped girl and the man who ruined her. I can look anybody in the eye and know that I am just as human as they are. I can look myself in the eye and know that even though sometimes I don't see it, I do deserve to live, and I do deserve the chance to grow up to be somebody, and I do deserve to feel just as alive as anyone else. And it is so fucking good. This is what I should have had all along, only sweeter: because I had to work for it. 

     My past doesn't define me. My name isn't Victim. I am not a fucking statistic. And I will face my days one by one, and I will take my memories by their throats and I will make it all mine again. I can't change the beginning of my story. But I am sure as hell going to give it a better ending. 

Hang on,
Ness


    

I Did It.

Today, I could not get out of bed.

I spent literally two hours trying to get up but I just couldn't do it. Here's the backstory. 

Last night, I had a moderately severe panic attack right before bed. I went right to sleep as soon as I could. I kept waking up in a cold sweat. This morning, I woke up scared and I could not, no matter how hard I tried, get my ass out of my bed. 
     It's been weeks since I've done that. I knew it would happen eventually, but I had kinda hoped that MAYBE it wouldn't. MAYBE I could just go from broken to fixed without all the fighting in between. Silly me. =] Anyway, after getting up, I was all different sorts of depressed. So I told myself to fucking knock it off and listened to some music and smoked a couple cigarettes, and believe it or not, I feel much better. 
     I guess this is how it's going to be: some days you gotta fight for your sanity. Some days, the mundane things that everybody else does with no fucking problem become a battle. But that's ok. I'll fight as hard as I have to. And one day, all this shit will be just as easy for me as it is for everybody else. I can do this shit. 

Hang on,
Ness