Grieving Me

I've been ridiculously tired lately.  The kind of tired and that makes me stay in bed all day, and still sleep through the night. The kind of tired that means my apartment is a wreck, and my dishes haven't been washed for at least a week.

It's humiliating.

I've been so ashamed of myself. I have no job, my apartment is a mess, and I still haven't finished my GED test. I feel like a failure.

But honestly, I've felt like a failure for a long time. It mostly started in high school, when due to a combination of hard subjects, bad materials, and clueless teachers, I ended up dropping out of some classes.

 Through all of that, I still held on to my dream. I'd love to be a counselor in Eugene, listening to people's stories, getting to know them, and maybe even being able to help some people.

But if High School was hard, life afterwards has been much more difficult. Every time someone asks me what I'm up to, all I can respond with is, "I live in an apartment on our property, with a chihuahua." And every time I wither a bit inside.

My friends are going to college, making friends, getting jobs... and I sit and pile up dirty dishes.

Humiliating.

Discouraging.

Shameful.

I am, every day, defeated.

A friend and I are working on starting a cupcake business that does events. Perfect for me, since I can usually focus on something for a couple of days, even when I'm low.

And that excites me, I guess. Planning is fun.

But I've been completely drained since we started actually planning and brainstorming. It's ridiculous, I mean, I finally have a reason to maybe not call myself a failure. If we can pull it off, I mean.

But mom and I were talking today, and she brought up a good point.

I'm grieving.

Grieving for my future, for my self that feels destroyed.

For the dreams, and even plans that should be so feasible, but are so completely impossible.

For a life I thought I could have, but probably never will.

It stings.

I'm grieving.

Shame helps nothing.

Right now I'm waiting it out, and getting ready for a new future. A future that's hopefully feasible.

Asking God for a reason, a destiny to follow.

Thanks for taking the time and energy to read. I don't have answers today, but they will come. I hope!

~Dolly

In Review

Wow... I've officially had a blog for a year!

So far there've been:
3 Facelifts
23 Posts Published
55 Facebook Followers (Increase the number here) 😉
and a LOT of Things learned. Things like:
How to use emojis on blogger 😑😶😀😏🌝😻🙀😸💓💁💚💛💜 (etc., etc.)
How to make posts accessible
How to write clearly
and very importantly, How to be honest. Because that's hard, especially here on the interwebs.

I've shared about my dreams and struggles and other stuff. Not everything of course, but. . . enough, I guess. So here's where my life's at now:

I'm still living in the little shop apartment with Bailey. It's been fun! Not exactly sunshine and roses though. My house is a mess, (and I don't say that lightly) Bailey and I both have anxiety issues, and I really hate washing dishes. If I'm not careful to regulate Bailey and my routine, she has an annoying tendency to pee on my clothes or poop on the floor. And until maybe a week ago (when my best friend saved my knees and back from hours of scrubbing) the bathroom floor was covered in dried kitten diarrhea. It smelled amazing! 🙄😷😑

I've mostly graduated high school. . . Just the scariest part to go! #GED #MathAndScience I'd love to get a job, honestly, but finishing the GED test comes first. And then learning to properly keep house. As in, consistently. And then, maybe I'll believe I have what it takes to enter the workforce! Of course, that's all my plan. God might very well have something else up His sleeve, and if so, I'll probably kick and scream and then write a lovely blog post about His plan- once I settle down.

Spiritually I feel like Habakkuk, crying,

How long, LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, 'Violence!' but you do not save? 

Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrongdoing? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds. 

Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.

These verses just. . . resonate with me. I know I'm not the only of God's small ones that raises a cry. We look around and then shout, "Daddy God! Look! Violence- people are killing each other and wounding hearts and look at all of us down here bleeding! Government isn't working, we don't trust our leaders, and right and wrong are so tangled we can hardly tell what's what! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?"

And of course, we know He is listening. I think. 😕 He must be, because I believe His reply to Habakkuk is still valid for me, right now.

“Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told. ..."

So, I'll try to wait. I'm watching.

Y'know, all this time I thought Habakkuk was just kinda. . . stuck in there. Like filler material with a conveniently laughable name. In fact, I felt that way about most of the minor prophets. Then, of course, I gave myself a challenge of reading through them all. (Not for any spiritual reason. I just wanna be able to say that I've read the whole Bible except Song of Songs so I can quit being such a disappointment to our youth pastor.)

But it's been good. And now I hafta go home to my house and quit using my parents' internet.

Goodnight everyone! I might not know you, but I love you! If that makes sense. . . Whatever. Byeee~!

~Dolly

Empty Places

A memoir assignment in English IV landed around the one-year anniversary of my grandparent's death. Here's what I wrote:

"I love you Grandma!" a little girl exclaimed while rolling out sugar cookie dough. Flour and sugar dusted the table, as well as most of her lime-green jumper and one small eyebrow. 

"I love you Grandpa," that same girl, a little older now, thought as she climbed out of a farm truck. Her eyes sparkled as she thought of the joke they'd just shared.

That little girl was me. Years later, as I stood beside a pair coffins, part that little girl still inside me. . . died.

I clearly remember the weeks leading up to the car wreck. Grandpa and Grandma were going to go on a road trip across the United States, stopping in at friends' and family's houses on the way. Spring was coming- Easter was soon. Grandma talked of almost nothing else, and Grandpa talked of almost nothing (as usual). He still showed anticipation though, in his quiet way. Everything reflected hope.

Just a few days before they left, we stopped in for a quick visit. Grandma excitedly beckoned Mom and me over and pulled something out of her dress pocket- a cell phone! She showed us how it worked, told us how many minutes they had rolled over. Her excitement was contagious, and we all laughed before she gave me and Mom each an enthusiastic hug.

Then a few days after they left, a Friday- Good Friday- Mom and Dad called my brother and I downstairs. Somewhere in Wisconsin, there had been a random car wreck. But for us, it wasn't so random. Because Grandpa had died immediately. Because Grandma was in a hospital somewhere far away, on life support. This wasn't just a random wreck on the news. This was pain. Loneliness and uncertainty, yes; but nothing at all like random.

At first, there were no reactions. Just silence- then came quiet crying that morphed into sobbing; this was real. Dad flew out to Wisconsin that day. He came back and got me a week or so later, I think. Time blurs around these memories: there are clear scenes and moments, but no full, coherent timeline.

The hospital was comforting. Sterilely white; white walls, white hospital beds with white sheets, white ceiling, white tile floor that reflected the blindingly white lights. There were no emotions here. Everything moved on a schedule, everything was structured. Everything would be fine.

I spent a lot of time in Grandma's hospital room, and often there was just the two of us. I'd sit in an office chair that was about as tall as me and I'd color and pray. I also brought a paperback, spiral-bound hymnal and my Bible, and sang out of one and read out of the other. Days at Grandpa and Grandma's house had always been bookended with Bible reading, and Grandma and I used to sing together while washing dishes. I hung on to hope that those things would happen again.

Then on Dad and my last day in Wisconsin, a cocky young intern or something came in and started unhooking the tangle of wires and cords attached to Grandma's head. I asked why.

"Because she's just doing so much better!" he replied cheerfully, barely glancing up from what he was doing.

Hope! Maybe God wanted to help us!

We flew home shortly after that. Driving away from the airport, Mom and Dad started discussing what would happen when Life Support was pulled off. I freaked out. Uncontrollable crying; intense, sharp jabs of pain through my heart and stomach. Complete helplessness. Everyone knew this was coming. But Dad was dealing with so much that he'd forgotten to inform me of what was going on. So, I had no introduction chapter to grief- not for the wreck that killed Grandpa- not for the sustained injuries that killed Grandma.

Coming home was hard. As in, it-would-not-be-Christian-to-punch-this-person-in-the-face, kind of hard. Whom did I want to punch? Those relatives who put on an elegant display of tragic grief, the people I didn't know at all who introduced themselves just to force their grief on me, and definitely that lady who looked at me so sympathetically and insisted that things were absolutely terrible for me and I was completely miserable from being reminded of my horrible loss at every turn. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy. . . long-suffering. . . " Sigh.

Now, as I sit in what used to be Grandma's kitchen and write about her, as I gaze out at the washroom where Grandpa used to come in to clean up and I write about him, I realize how much they taught me and how much their death changed me. From Grandma I learned industriousness, how to respectfully disagree, and the importance of loving those people you disagree with. From Grandpa I learned to wait for others to speak, to value words, to talk (safely!) to a stranger, and how to say things without speaking.

In losing them, I utilized what they taught me. I had to love those people I wanted to punch, and to express that love by letting them speak their grief. I had to learn to say, "I get it. I'm dealing with this loss, too," without talking, to use a simple facial expression to communicate openness and sympathy. I learned that people struggle, and I need to have patience and love them anyway. I learned that hurt doesn't come all at once, but in waves. Even now, over year later, some residual grief will wash over my heart, and its salt will sting the places that are still cut open.

But I can look back, back over what my grandparents taught me without saying a word, and forward- forward to seeing them again sometime, who-knows-when, and saying "thank you" for all the things they taught and still teach me.

You are honored, missed, still loved and forever(?) remembered. 

Focus!

My focus has been so off lately!

Oh, yeah, hi!

Basically I've been focusing almost entirely on me, even while praying for a shift away from that! It was honestly getting really frustrating because I actually do want to focus on God as center of my life. Also, I wanna be aware of other people and be able to care for them with Jesus' love. I can't do that if my eyes are on myself all the time!

The problem was, I knew what the problem was. Just not how to fix it! SO FRUSTRATING!

Last night God gave me a bit o' insight.

See, here I was, praying for change. For my focus to shift off of me. For God to work for me and in me so that I could serve Him better. He wants my help after all, right? And while He's at it, could I get a good night's sleep with a side of energy and encouragement in the morning?

Basically, the focus was still on me. I wanted to be a better little version of myself without putting in the effort. How self-centered is that?!?

Anyway, last night I prayed for 3 other people, only stopping on myself to ask forgiveness for sins and maybe to ask for something I was praying over someone else, for myself, too.

This morning, I woke up energized and encouraged. Because this time I put in the energy to concentrate on things beyond myself!

Something else, though. Just to try to keep things balanced out.

Those other prayers were not useless. After all, God's answering them! Even though they were selfish prayers, that just means I was still stuck in the problem. However, I was searching for a way out, genuinely wanting to do the right thing, just blind as to how to get there. I believe God honored the true heart behind them.

All that to say, I mostly included my first prayers in a kinda derogatory context to show a contrast. God gave me a gift of growth, an 'after', which can be seen most clearly when contrasted with the 'before'.

Anyway, I was just encouraged by what God showed me last night, and I'd like to (hopefully) encourage someone else. (aka you)

Keep seeking God, even when things are frustrating and every opportunity seems like a dead end. Keep asking, seeking, and knocking on His door. Basically, just bug God! I don't think, somehow, that He'll actually be annoyed. I mean, the Bible even says to bug Him until He gives us an answer! Jacob wrestled with God and was blessed, Jesus talked about a widow bugging a jerky judge until he gave a fair ruling, and He also told the story of a guy knocking on his friend's door in the middle of the night and getting what he needed because of his persistence!

God isn't zoning out, only paying attention if we bug Him enough. He loves us and takes care of us! But by bugging Him, we show our commitment to change, and He can work with that as we give ourselves to Him.

Hope you guys are encouraged and having as great of a day as I am so far! Thanks so much for reading, commenting, subscribing. . . oh wait, this isn't YouTube.

Love ya'll!

~Dolly

Self-Grace, Self-Indulgence, Self-Accusation

I just recently started to grasp the idea of self-grace, or basically just cutting myself some slack.

I've always been such a perfectionist with myself that I would become physically sick when I felt like I'd messed up. I did realize that my stomach-aches and/or headaches were stress-related, but that knowledge didn't make the symptoms any easier. Instead, my brain would start to desperately search for answers, but only be able to see flaws in all of them. This has been especially infuriating for my family, because to them, a solution is just so simple and easy, but I just haven't been able to accept that. I'd get so worked up that I couldn't see a way out.

Then this past week came. I'd been slowly growing in the balance between being harsh with myself, and giving my self free reign.

Anyway, this past week was really hard. I was exhausted, my brain pretty much ceased functioning, and I was feeling depressed. These are all things I've beaten myself up over. "You're lazy." "You're stupid." "Quit just giving in to self-pity."

But somehow, for once, I went into survival mode and just cut myself some slack. I skipped about half my school work, entirely abandoned my chores, and gave up on internet time restrictions. Now, for any teens who might be reading, and might be tempted to use this as an excuse to do the same. . . no! I mean, if you're just having a bad day, this is not the treatment plan I'd really recommend. (Besides, your mom probably knows me, and I don't wanna get in trouble!) :)

However, this was a big, like, huge deal for me! I couldn't even cope with basic life functions. And this was the first time I've quit fighting, and just let myself be. I'm exhausted? I can rest. My brain isn't working right? I can let it take a break. I'm depressed? Fine. I can't change any of this, so why fight it? Just let it be, and cope with what I can do, and what I have.

Then came the end of last week and beginning of this week.

And I started feeling a little better, and I tried to go back to normal and found out I was. . . just slightly. . . addicted. Bummer. This is where self-indulgence comes in, because that's what my self-grace turned in to. This is also where self-indulgence usually starts becoming self-accusation.

But!

By God's grace and with His help, the cycle has been (at least temporarily) broken! And, for now, I'll take it!

Because this time, instead of pointing fingers of disgust at myself for failing, I realized that this is part of a learning curve, and I can move on, unencumbered by shame and misplaced guilt. And here's the really cool part: I prayed for help. Okay, that's not too exciting, since that's part of life, but. . . I got help! As in, God started helping me grow in self-control! And in three days, I'm almost back to normal on that front!

Just to clarify, this isn't some starry-eyed, naive view of things. My exhaustion and mental blocks aren't gone, but they're a bit better. I really don't believe it's God's will for my mental/emotional struggles to miraculously disappear. That's discouraging. Majorly. But, I can look at what He's teaching me, and I choose to, because in this discouraging world, that's one little bit of encouragement.

Thanks for reading! May you always seek God, and may He keep teaching you!

~Dolly