Outside

And you bring me to my knees, again

All the times, that I could beg you please, in vain

All the times, that I felt insecure, for you

And I leave my burdens at the door

But I'm on the outside

I'm looking in

I can see through you

See your true colors

'Cause inside you're ugly

You're ugly like me

I can see through you

See to the real you

All the times that I felt like this won't end

It's for you

And I tasted what I could never have

It was from you

All the times that I've cried, my intentions, full of pride

But I waste more time than anyone

But I'm on the outside

I'm looking in

I can see through you

See your true colors

'Cause inside you're ugly

You're ugly like me

I can see through you

See to the real you

All the times that I've cried

All this wasted, it's all inside

And I feel, all this pain, stuffed it down

It's back again

And I lie here in bed, all alone,

I can't mend

But I feel tomorrow will be okay

But I'm on the outside I'm looking in

I can see through you

See your true colors

'Cause inside you're ugly

You're ugly like me

I can see through you

See to the real you

Staind – Outside

I heard this song today. I’ve heard it before, but today it really struck me. It filled my soul and got all my attention. It opened up for me a new realization. This was how I felt when I cried out to God that I’d be able to help troubled teens with my counseling. These were the unspoken words filling my heart when I was reading my friend’s stories.

I call him my friend, but I never really know if he is. I never know for sure. And that’s probably why I’m so insecure about it all. Sometimes he’s great to talk to. Sometimes he’s a real jerk. But like I said, I’m learning to love without expectation. Not that I have to be a doormat. Not that I have to allow him to smear his sloppy mud-laden boots all over me and stomp on me before forgetting about me completely. But I continue to love.

This song – it’s a stage I went through with him. I don’t completely feel that way anymore. Just about a week ago, I told him that I didn’t mind him picking on me because I needed to toughen up anyway. I needed to be made strong. And hey, maybe he was just the person to do that. But I’m over that now. I talked to him yesterday and he picked on me quite a bit. I didn’t mind. I didn’t get angry. I didn’t get tears in my eyes. I didn’t crack. I was detached and objective and outside of my emotional always-take-things-personally self. It felt good to be that way. To just hear a person’s opinion – his opinion – and not immediately react to it. To just consider it as a possibility and nothing more than that.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so secure in my understanding of myself and my life. Perhaps I owe it to him. Perhaps I owe it to grace. Perhaps I just needed to be a few days older than when I was acting so ridiculous and insecure. Perhaps this will all pass and I will be crying soon again. But man, I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. I'll enjoy being outside of all that nauseating self-loathing.

Focus

Something is different today. That detachment has returned. Self confidence. Focus. An understanding of where I'm going. I'm not lost in my dreams today. I'm not overly concerned with what my friend thinks of me or if he thinks of me. I am my own person today. I am good.

motivation to live properly

I nearly died last night. Again. I wish I remembered the whole incident. Maybe it would motivate me more to live properly.

My husband told me that I stopped breathing. He shook me; I gasped for breath. He listened to my heart; it was racing. All I do remember is rolling over and continuing on with my dreams. Dreaming, dreaming, always dreaming. Sometimes I feel like I fail to live in reality at all. And yet, sometimes, like when I'm in the midst of a spiritual battle, reality seems more real than ever before. That may seem odd to you -- she feels like reality is more real when there are spirits involved -- but it doesn't to me.

In any case, I woke up and listened to my husband's account of how I had nearly suffocated in the middle of the night and I resolved that if I was going to go out, it wasn't going to be with a neglected house and children. I was going to leave my legacy: the place would be orderly, the children would be attended to, dinner would comprise of colorful balanced side dishes, warm and on the table. I would not be leaving this earth with laundry undone and the floor unswept and library books which had still not yet been read to the children. No sir. Not me.

And of course, I would leave letters for everyone. Letters of how I felt about them and how much they meant to me and how I prayed for them and wished them well and how I would continue praying and that my spirit would always be with them, even if I were gone. But then, all that is probably rather unnecessary, since I send my sentiments constantly.

My grandparents are still alive. A few months ago, I sent them the letter I would read as their eulogy. Is that crazy? Rude? I didn't think so at the time. But as always, I tend to doubt myself. When I wrote it, I figured, "Why should I wait until they're gone to tell them how I love them?" They appreciated the letter. But still, it's a little...strange.

I have some crazy insane need to tell everyone everything about myself. Expose all my struggles and vulnerabilities. It's not so much that I'm looking for sympathy. It's more that I want others to know they're not alone. Maybe they want to be alone. I don't know. I try to give to everyone the things I never had. And that's why I'm always listening to others, sharing with others, relating to others. For ten years, I dreamed of being a counselor to teens, mostly because when I was a teen, I never had a good counselor. I started a natural birth meetup group, mostly because when I was pregnant and planning an out-of-hospital birth, no one was around to answer my questions. I have often taken up projects simply because I wished someone had done it for me. Perhaps that's the wrong way to approach life. I don't know.

My friend told me he doubts that it's understanding he wants. That took me by surprise. Doesn't every person in the world want to be understood? Doesn't every one want to know that he's not alone. Doesn't every one want to relate to others somehow? Isn't everyone in the world just a little bit needy like me? I'd like to think that. But perhaps that's not reality at all. Perhaps I should just keep to myself and volunteer information only when asked. Perhaps I've been going about this friendship thing all wrong. Maybe nobody is really interested in knowing my whole life story. It's my life story, maybe I should just keep it to myself. Write an autobiography. Get it published posthumously. Get something published anyway.

It's not understanding he wants. Perhaps that's why he claims no god. So what does he want then? I wonder if I'll ever know. I pray for him. Often. I pray he'll get whatever it is he really wants. Whatever the Lord really wants for him. Do those things coincide for him? Do they coincide for me? For the vast majority of us? Probably not. But I pray the Lord's will be done, in any case.

discipline

"I need your discipline. I need your help." That's what he said. I was so determined to do it. But the very next morning, I struggled. The urge came over me and I gave in. The urge to talk, the urge to make contact. The need for attention, for acknowledgement. It just overwhelms me. I can't seem to hold back. But I must. I must.

I feel so out of control sometimes. So unorganized, so unfocused. I should map out my day, I guess. Map out my time -- my week, my month, my year. Schedules. I should treat myself like a child until I can behave like an adult again.

If I can make it through this, I will be able to make it through anything. I should take up running again. Discipline. Discipline.

come oh wise men, come

Sometimes our hearts are like dark caves. No natural light shines through. What is within us seems immensely black and scary and hopeless. But the Lord showed me that if we allow His light to shine within us, we will see that the cave is filled with beautiful sparkling crystals and reflective pools.

Tonight, I got an image of the three wise men. They were journeying toward that cave. They were bringing their precious gifts. And the cave was no longer a void of darkness. The star of David was shining above it. It was the stable, occupied by the Holy Family. The animals were there and the cave had been full of stench. But Mary filled it with the perfume of roses. And Joseph spread the fragrance of lillies. And Baby Jesus wafted forth the beautiful scent of a newborn begotten of the most pure virginal womb.

I await the wise men. And I long to be able to receive their gifts. I invite the Holy Family to settle into the cave of my heart and to flood out the stench with their lovely frangrances.

journey back to the sunshine

I had a long talk with my husband last night, trying to figure myself and all my crazy behaviors out. I generally feel like men are much wiser than women. Maybe it's my family. I don't know. But I have grown up with the perception that women are emotional weaklings who need men to point them in the right direction, to help them see the big picture, to smack some sense into them when they're freaking out about the milk being left out on the counter for a whole half an hour and how it's going to spoil if it's not put away now and does my daughter really think that money grows on trees and how am I going to pay the bills, etc. etc. etc. (And no, that whole line was not taken from my history as a parent. It was something I experienced when growing up, okay?) Anyway, I find that the men who were in my life were rather wise and stable and had a good grasp on the big picture.

So I mumbled to my husband about how horribly embarrassed I was that my friend said I was hardly faithful at all and that I was quite ridiculous as far as Catholics go. This was humiliating for me to face since my friend rejects religion altogether. I mean, I should be a good example, a faithful witness, somebody that somebody else might possibly want to be like. Apparently, I have been none of those things. I have simply been ridiculous.

That was hard to take. And the worst part was that I instantly knew it was true. I'm not always like this, but sometimes I fall into this mode where I use my religion in a superstitious way. Like if I just say enough rosaries and enough divine mercy chaplets, if I say the right prayers the right number of times, if I call upon the right saints and use the proper title of Mary when seeking intercession, then all the cards will play together and help me have the winning hand.

Deep inside, I know this is not the way the Lord intends us to indulge in the fullness of truth. But still, I tend to be quite controlling and so sometimes, even though I don't think it consciously, I try to make God my puppet, my vending machine. And I get annoyed, disappointed, sometimes desperate, and very rarely enraged when things don't work out the way I had planned they would.

My husband put it well: "You need to allow God to work through you. You cannot try to work through God." Yes, that was what I was trying to do. Sad, but true.

In my efforts to prioritize my life and to stop being so self-focused, I have taken up teaching again this week. We've been off of school work for about seven weeks now and there has been no order in the house, no routine to our lives. It has allowed me to become quite self-absorbed. It has allowed me to stop really being a mom and to just sort of referee the sibling squabbling. My husband even had a dream last week that he was in the truck following the van and all the kids were in the van and no one was driving it. He was feeling my absence in the family. My non-presence despite my being home all day every day.

But yesterday, I started my journey back toward the sunshine. I read books to my kids and took them to the library. I washed the dishes and folded the laundry and made the beds. I listened to my kids. I listened to my friends. I listened to my husband. I re-engaged myself into their lives. Today, I went out to lunch. I took care of my business. I listened my my music which makes me feel so much like me. And tomorrow, I plan to run a race -- a 2-miler. And I will run it with a friend of mine. I never feel more like myself than when I'm running. And it's always best when running with a friend.

When I was teaching this morning, I realized that I was returning to normalcy. By guiding my boys in their lessons, I was able to take on the adult role. I was able to be calm and steady and encouraging. I was able to stop being like a kid myself.

I do firmly believe that homeschooling is best for my children and for our family. But I realize too that it is best for me as a mom. It fulfills my need to be needed. It helps me know that I'm making a difference in some one's life. It enforces that feeling that I crave -- that I truly am unique and irreplaceable, that no other person can do this job as well as I can. Sometimes I am tempted to think that I'm doing it just for me, but I've prayed about it often and I do believe it's best for all of us.

Watching my sons learn, I realized again the truth of what my husband said last night: "Every person is on his own journey. You cannot make him go in any particular direction. You can only point the way and give him encouragement. But ultimately, you have to let him make his own decisions and discover things on his own." I didn't just discover this last night. But like I said, life goes in cycles and sometimes I have to rediscover it and accept it in an even deeper way than before.

I don't like to harp on hurts and I don't like to blame everything on my father's absence in my life, but I do think it has affected my entire outlook on who I am and how I perceive my relationships with other people. I grew up knowing that my father's abandonment wasn't my fault, but somehow always deep-down believing that it was. I realize now that I've carried around this notion -- I'm mostly over it, but I still cling to it from time to time -- that if I had just been a better little girl, if I just could have controlled myself more and not been so naughty as a two year old, the man that should have been my protector and my rock and my reassurance would not have walked out of my life. I understand now that I've always thought that if I could just do everything right and control my emotions and be better than I am at the moment, then I could change the men in my life to be the persons I always wanted them to be. Hearing myself now, it seems incredibly ridiculous. And that brings us back to where we started -- my ridiculousness.

I understand -- once again, in a deeper way this time -- that I cannot change anybody. I need to just be myself. I don't need to be perfect. I just need to be who I am. The people who accept me accept me and the people who don't don't. That's just the way it is. It's not my fault if they choose to move on. I can be loving and kind and merciful and forgiving all I want. But in the end, I cannot force anyone to do anything. And in the end, I need to be all those things with myself as well.

your smile and the sunshine

I never knew that your smile
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place

nevermind that there's a raging war
you bring me peace I've never known before

I never knew that your smile
and the sunshine
could provide for us a happy place

This past Saturday morning, I woke up with this song in my mind. It's not a song I've ever heard before, but I imagined an older man on the top of a mountain, strumming his guitar, singing these words from the depths of his heart. To tell the truth, the man looked like my father and maybe he even sounded like him. I don't' know. He had a voice that sounded like it was from the 70's, like some John Denver or Joe Crocker or Cat Stevens. In any case, it was a beautiful voice, mostly because it was sincere. It seemed that the Lord was giving me that song as a way of healing that father wound. Like He was saying, "This is the song your father should have been singing to you when you were a child. This is the song I have been singing to you all your life."

I cried that morning. A healing cry. My husband held me and loved me in that moment. He's very good at that. He never tires of my needs. He never tires of comforting me. He never tires of listening to me. And, looking back now on what happened in the hours that followed that morning, he never tires of forgiving me and accepting me where I'm at and encouraging me to do better and strengthening me to persevere. I must say he is perhaps the greatest husband in all the world. Women are envious when I tell them all the great things he does for me.

I know a lot of great guys. I know a lot of great husbands. I know a lot of great marriages. In all my ten years of marriage and having married friends, I have never known any couple to get divorced! That has to say a lot in this day and age. And with all that, I can say that my husband is the greatest. He is everything I need him to be. Everything I need him to be. And yet, I am not always content. Sometimes it's like I think he is too good to me. Sometimes I think I really don't deserve him. Alright, alright, I admit it -- sometimes I just firmly believe that I deserve to be treated like shit. And maybe that's what this is all about. Maybe I sometimes think my husband is a dork for loving me as much as he does. Maybe that's why I have found myself, on a handful of occasions, clinging to someone who is mysterious and intimidating and who doesn't care much about me at all. That's screwed up. It really is. But what other conclusion is there?

And now I am exposed and vulnerable once again.

Okay, I'm stepping into the sunshine now. I am walking OUT of the shadows. No more musing. No more pondering. No more holding a magnifying glass to all my scars and my pathetic neurotic behaviors. I will stop focusing on myself and start focusing on others once again. I will be giving and considerate and loving. I will get my life back into its proper order. And for Heaven's sake, I will STOP being the most self-centered, self-pitying person in all the world!

God bless anyone who is reading through all this trash. I'm off to lunch now. Adios.