Archive for February, 2015

Still standing

Sometimes it is so hard to wait. We spend so much of life hurrying. Hurrying to accomplish one thing or the other. So when we get to the point where there is nothing left to do but wait, hope, and pray, it can cause us to unravel.

The past year of my life was never in my plans. I’m doing something I’d never fathomed I’d do. In a place I never thought I’d be. But I’m here. And though there are a lot of ups and downs which remind me I’m still alive. It’s truly been the most amazing year. I’ve learned so much about myself, what I want in life, even the things I thought I wanted, and now realize I actually don’t. I’ve lost myself, found myself, and lost myself again. I’ve lost people in my life, kept a few people, and gained some pretty amazing people as well.

I think this year has calmed me. It has made me question why am I really alive. And what my purpose on this earth actually is. I’ve realized my dreams are not the dreams of other people and that that is okay. My thinking about family, friendships, children, the future, religion, and education may be a bit queer and out of the norm. But I like it that way. I’ve realized my purpose is different. And as long as I stay true to that I will never be afraid of the passing of time. I will embrace change, and I will thrive in it.

I will go to the places I want to go, experience the things I want to experience, let go of the people who don’t want to come along for the ride, and hold on to those that do.

I used to be afraid of disappointment, and pain. But now I don’t hide from it. I see the rain falling and I dance in it. I make goals and I reach them. I don’t speak much, but instead I listen. I watch. I prepare, and I wait.

I grew up wishing I was somebody else, and hoping to fit into a segment of society that honestly is too small for me. I can’t be confined by other peoples ideas of happiness, I want to build my own.

I choose to jump off the bandwagon of popular thoughts, ambitions, and goals, and live a life that is uniquely my own. I want to change the world. And the first step is to change myself, my thoughts, and my vision.

quuen king down chess

Light

knob_light4

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Being suicidal is not an event. It is a mindset. It’s a way of thinking, and it is a continual experience. But it is also preventable, or rather treatable. It takes having someone or something to hold on to. It takes knowing that there is an end point. An end to pain, suffering, and loss.

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Why do some people hold on, while others let go? Having known people who have decided to take their own life, there is one thing I know for sure. You can never tell. You can never tell who will always hold on, and who will eventually let go. Their smile is still bright, and their laughter still carries you away. Because pain can be hid. It can be smothered, and it can be contained, until one day, when it can’t.

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Under modern U.S. law suicide is legal. Living is a choice, and you have the right to no longer make that choice.

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Before I learned to swim I once drowned. I remember knowing I was going to die. I fought it. I screamed, but I was underwater so no one heard. I kicked, I struggled, but I kept drowning. Now, years later, I know how to swim, and the fact that I was drowning seems so foolish. If I had been calm, if I had opened my arms and trusted the process, I would have found myself floating to the top. But at that time I had no knowledge of a way out. I had no way of knowing that there was still hope. I knew I had lost. And I accepted it. But somebody saved me. Someone was looking out for me that day in the water and they dived in and saved me. It wasn’t my father, or my mother, or even a friend. Just a stranger who was looking out for me.

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At times when I want to let go I always call out one particular name. A name I know will never fail me. I call out to him, screaming, asking him to prove himself. That he is out there. That he cares. He feels like a stranger but I ask him to speak to me, to say something. To tell me everything is going to be okay. And every time, without fail. I don’t hear a thing. It is silent. Utterly and completely quiet. But before despair settles in I feel this calm. Like a wave rushing over me I feel his peace. More than words in my ear he reminds me of times past. Times when he brought me through my trouble, and the mess I’d created for myself. And though all my troubles don’t immediately become okay, he turns a mountain of sorrow into a molehill. Instead of utter darkness I see hope, I see light.