I Do Solemnly Swear...

This weekend, I will

• not worry about the wedding.
• not worry about my parents' opinions/emotions.
• not worry about making everyone else happy.
• eat well, but not unhealthy.
• drink a lot of water.
• go to the gym and sweat hard.
• not call myself fat.
• compliment each girlfriend I talk to (honestly).
• hold on to a hug just a little bit longer.
• not feel bad about abilities.
• be thankful for my raise.
• be thankful for my job.
• read my bible.
• read my book.
• thank a friend for being my friend.
• love my fiance, without fear.
• let my fiance love me, without fear.

Mute

I have nothing to say. I have been wondering, though, why it's so hard to remember and hang on to the good (trust, faith, love, hope) yet so easy to let the bad in (doubt, fear, misery, hopelessness). Why is it that I could be facing, eye to eye, a happy and joyful day, and the very next morning (maybe even the very next breath), be overcome with fear for what's to come. Why do I ruin it?

Things are going fine, lately. I'm not sure if it's the very realness of the possibility of the Czar having to move for a new job, but I've been on the receiving end of some random acts of affection lately... and it really weirds me out. I'm suspicious of it. I don't buy it. Regardless, I should not fall into despair because I received a "Have a good day" text.

Every morning this week, I've woken up already in a state of panic. In the shower, at the sink, in my car, the panic follows me. I wonder if this poison can ever be extracted, or is it there forever? Or maybe it's just that I know doom is coming and that anything good has to be patiently waited for. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.

Eventually, though, even I get tired of holding my breath, peering around each corner. At that point, I have to just shrug my shoulders, grab my coffee, and keep going.

Fancy Meeting You Here

Typically, when something comes along to ruin my day, I let it. It ruins me. Through and through, I give in to the anger and bitterness, and I let it flow freely... in my mood, my words, my thoughts.

Over the last 12 hours or so, I've been confronted with the oh-so-familiar cancer of negativity, but something is keeping me from giving in. I'm still angry and bitter, don't get me wrong. I'm the same girl. But there is a stubborn cheerfulness and hope deep inside me that is refusing to let it consume me. It's like being mad at a friend who has just eaten your last french fry, but they tickle you to make you laugh. You don't want to and you cross your arms and try to frown, but instinctual reactions make the sides of your mouth curl up and eventually you let it burst into laughter. Ok, fine, Joy. I will let you win today, old friend.

Why Do I Bother?

Mother's Day lunch. $150.
Mother's Day bouquet. $50.
Never-ending backhanded comments, vilification, and ingratitude. Priceless.

What a waste. Happy F-ing Mother's Day.

196 days.

The Perpetual "Off Day"

When I was first learning how to drive, my legs and arms would be sore after just a few minutes of driving. I realized that I had been so nervous, all my leg and arm muscles were clenched the entire time. A very physical indicator of my emotional state.

Lately, I guess I just haven't been feeling like myself. I notice I feel like this the most at work and in social situations. When I'm alone or with the boy, I feel a little more relaxed, but should I run into a coworker or acquaintance, small talk is such a chore and I can't muster up the energy to com up with the typical response I would give. I can't make a joke. I can't think of a follow-up question. I feel like it takes years to finally answer them. What should I say?

Nothing. I having nothing I want to say. A friend says that it's because I'm overstimulated, overwhelmed. I'm not free. Maybe that's true. The feeling reminds me of that time in my life where I was learning to drive. I may not have been driving erratically, no accidents occurred, I never hit anything, and no one ever hit me. But sheer nervousness, a complete inability to relax, meant that my body was in a constant state of tenseness.

I keep thinking, I'll be better tomorrow. I'm having an off day. But everyday, I sit here wondering why I feel so "off" or "out of it." Whether it's from holding on so tightly to my sanity that I've exhausted myself, or from holding my breath until the wedding that I'm suffering from oxygen deprivation, I'm tired. I'm tired, and I'm tired of being tired.

Yes, I Know

"Be content with what you have, for He has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.' So we can confidently say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?'" (Hebrews 13:6)

This verse and the promises behind it have been repeated to me over the past several months. My mind glosses over the familiarity of it. Yes, I know. Hang in there. It'll be over soon enough. Yes, I know. You can handle this. Yes, I know.

But tell a victim of domestic abuse that, with God's help, they can make it through yet another abusive relationship. Yes, I know. I just don't want to.

I've been trying to tell myself that it will be ok, that I just need to hang in there a little bit longer. I have my bad days, and then once in a while I have a surge of hope, a glimmer of contentment. Whether it's something the boy says, a new voice to speak the same words I've heard over and over, a silent smile from a familiar face, someone who listens without trying to tell me it will be ok... some days, I feel enough glimpses of the truth that I actually do believe I can make it. Of course I can make it. I guess I mean that I feel I can make it... but make it whole.

This is my battle. Others may struggle with demons that take the very clear and discernible shape of circumstances (like barrenness), of people who have hurt them (like cheaters), and any number of other things. My demons look and sound very familiar... they sound like me, the look like me, they feel like truth. My demons are my own inability to believe, to trust, to feel safe, to feel whole, to feel loved, to be confident, to let go, to give back, to give in, to forgive, to love even though I've been hurt, to accept that I will be hurt again, to separate the lie of utter defeat from the truth of hope.

Drowning in my Cereal Bowl

I told a friend of mine that I feel like I'm drowning in a cereal bowl. I'm fully aware that my problem is a mere 2 inches of liquid, but I'm still drowning.

I have friends going through much bigger challenges and struggles... childlessness, illness, marital turmoil, financial instability. Yet I still feel like my world is crumbling. It doesn't make me feel any better to grasp a larger perspective. It matters none.

The past few weeks, the boy and I have been fighting often. One insecure thought begets another, and before you know it, I'm in a frenzy of worry and panic. I keep telling myself that the wedding is just the beginning, no matter what the Czar and Queen do to me, that there is hope. But none of this matters. I live in fear of what's to come, knowing it will hurt.

I used to think that this "worst case scenario" thinking was my way of preparing for the worst so that I could be pleasantly surprised, rather than hoping for the best and being disappointed. At the end of the day, though, this kind of thinking only breeds more and more anxiety for me. I know I tend to be fairly vague, so allow me to explain...

There is an issue on the horizon that I know will create a rupture with the Czar and Queen. I know exactly what is to come. I don't have to deal with anything right now. It's been quiet on the homefront, even pleasant. Quiet. But the thoughts of how I know this issue will rear its ugly head will not go away. I imagine the verbal abuse, the names, the lies, the anger. The pain I know I have to endure, quietly, starts affecting me as if it were happening now, because I know it will ruin me. It will crush me and ruin me and set me ablaze.

Then I start thinking about the wedding. I think of how they will be angry, they will cause a stir, they will show anger on their faces. The Queen will weep at the ruin that has become of her life. The Czar will scowl at the bastard of a child he's giving away. And because the Czar and the Queen can deflate and demean me like none other in this world, my wedding will be a heart-wrenching, painful occasion.

What some may not understand is why I stay. Maybe it's a desire to please that I still hold on to, but I honestly believe that leaving now, just months before the wedding, will only cause more of the same, if not worse, for me in the future. It is by no means an ideal alternative to stay, but as painful as it is, it really could be worse. It's not a matter of "how can they treat you like this" or "don't set a precedent" or "they're going to have to learn to accept things." None of those things matter, because in their world, I am the worst of the worst. I'm disobedient.

It's funny how American culture teaches so much about being your own person, making your own choices, forging your own path. I grew up that way. I learned to do all of that, and it stands directly in opposition to what they hoped and dreamed for their children when they came here. They had hoped that I would be just like them, only with more opportunity for success in fortune.

This is why I'm drowning. Sure, there are things that consume me now that seem so trivial to some people, and they don't get why it upsets me so much or why I bother. But it's not really about the milk in my cereal bowl. I'm someone who has been drowning for the past 10 or so years. And now I'm drowning in my cereal bowl at a kitchen table afloat on a raft full of holes in the middle of the ocean. Lifting my head now only means its the ocean that will steal my breath and not the cereal milk.