I’m a shell of my former self. Empty space, hollowed out by the undoing of myself–the shameful biproduct of many lovers. Empty promises and empty love, even you I can smell on the tips of my fingers when they smell like day old cigarettes and no soap–maybe I just smell me. Never had a daddy to point to my worth, whisper kind thoughts to my soul, so I searched it out in the empty rumblings beneath many kinds of sheets. I looked for her my whole life, in purity and in the moments of amenity with my soul but she failed me. Some things you can’t learn in school, while learning you aren’t worth loving–meaningless. My brain swirls with nonsense and I can’t keep from losing my shit. Who will love a girl like me? Rescued but unable to be redeemed. God knows the tears I’ve cried asking Him to show me the way to unloose these chains. I’ve been in captivity for as long as I can remember, and these chains are only getting heavier. Jesus says He died for me so the chains can fall, but sometimes I think freedom is for everyone but me. I’m still waiting for someone to unclamp my wrists and feet, waiting silently. The war rages on. I am two people. I am two separate people and I can’t make peace with them both. On one hand I am kind, compassionate, generous, and precious. On the other hand, I am angry, bitter, argumentative, ill, and a bitch raging against anything in my war path. I finally realized today why you didn’t stay in my life, my soul mate, my biggest advocate– it’s because you couldn’t fulfill your purpose with my mess. Maybe it takes fifteen years to mourn your first love and let him go. But like the giving tree, the best of me is gone. I have nothing left to give a man. My whole life I’ve wanted to be married, or so I thought. I put my career before myself and everything else and it failed me. I failed me. I have nothing left to be proud of except the way I go out of my way to help people, because I am nothing without it. I dreamed of a beautiful country rustic wedding and favor like the people I watched for years around me receive on their special day. I have given up hope on that altogether. I’m not healthy enough to support anyone and I need someone who can care for me. Nobody is going to want to lay down his life for me, when I have so little to offer. So death of a wedding. Death of dreams. I’m 32. I just made 32. I had three chance encounters with the possibility of death and YES I’m still standing but I’m a failure. I’m a failure at the big dreams I used to have for myself. I’m a failure at my facebook group. I’m a failure at sex. I’m a failure at relationships. I’m a failure at friendships. I’m a failure at family. I am only good at writing and that is all I have and this entire piece is shit. When I wasn’t medicated I dreamed GIGANTICALLY. I don’t even dream anymore. The highest level of success I hope to accomplish is to not kill myself and make it through another day. To not further ruin my reputation than it already has been. To not open my big mouth and get myself in any more trouble I already am in. To remember to take my medication. To take the best care of the children in my possession at times. To get through this shitty part of the worst part of my life no more unscathed than I already am. I have nobody to blame but myself. I used to be a runway model, singer, actress, straight A college student, million dollar revenue producer, published author, virgin, christian, I used to have the midas touch. Everything at one time I touched turned to gold and I was acclaimed and congratulated by everyone I know, but now I am poor, a statistic in more than one way, marginalized, struggling, alone, fat, ugly. All the beautiful things I taught myself about myself are gone. They are reduced to unemployment, disability, numbers on a scale, and dusty plaques made of plastic that don’t mean shit anymore. I’m known as the crazy, special, kid gloved member of my family. Who would even believe what I said if I said it, because of my situation. She’s just not doing well, her meds aren’t working, she’s not capable of being proper anymore, she’s just in a low place, she’s just….
I already have seen my best days.
But this site wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for hope. As I cry as I write this, I have to have hope or I have nothing at all, not even my very salvation. I have hope for my future, even though everything is against me and even though everything is against it. I will see a wedding day, even if I marry my damn self. I will find love, even if it’s in the arms of a stranger who I give compassion to. I will write that NYT Bestseller if I have to die trying. Because, despite all of the things that are up against me, I KNOW I’m an overcomer. I know the prayers whispered over me of a BIG future and I believe in my God. And if anyone is going to get the last laugh it is JESUS, because what He speaks over me WILL come to pass. What HE has said I will do with my future, WILL happen. I might not see it until I have gray in my hair and wrinkles designing my face, but I will live to see the promises of God. THIS is why I’m still alive. THIS is proof that GOD has his hand on my life because a year ago I finally made it out of the hospital for the fourth time in that year and it is only by God’s GRACE that I wasn’t able to hurt myself when I wanted to. So in HOPE and in HOPE alone, I will see my best days ahead. Something in me tells me this is just a part of the process. Logically, how could I use my voice to touch others if I couldn’t relate with their pain? So if it’s for His kingdom, I’ll endure. Day by day I will learn to love myself again. Day by day I will learn to find my voice, in Him. Day by day, I will rise again.
So until then, I will search out opportunities to extend kindness and help to others. I will live simply and write. I will take time to heal. I will get strong so that I may overcome.
And lastly, I won’t give up.
Please don’t give up if you feel like it. STAY IN THE FIGHT. Life isn’t good or fair to anyone all the time. There IS good in the World and you are one of those good things.