Woman on a Bed

I decided to abandon the 30 questions. Big surprise! If I need to get inspired, I can refer back to them but something different for now…

Half naked body in the heat of a summer-warmed house. Laying here: a speck in a vast expanse of time and space. Fan flitting wisps of hair, ruffling a blouse hanging on a chair. A woman on a bed. Half curled, longing. She is just a body on a bed. A mess of cells and skin with woman parts. Who sees her?

I see her from a distance and inside her mind I hear their wails, their horror-filled eyes, their empty hearts, their stopped blood-flow and forced breath, their will to press on in the midst of a fucked up world: a ball of matted confusion, all because something evil entrapped a body and mind and he went on a killing spree. His actions the reason for their empty souls and a nation shaken with disgust and incredulity and at the same time a deep down feeling of “I’m not that surprised.”

The towns of Aurora and Littleton and the nation that is so-called “free” and “united” and “under God” yet we seem to have our own brand of problems. Diseases of chaos, poverty, perversion.

She lays there at the mercy of a world so out of her control. At the will of a mind so active and a body that seems to do what it wants when it wants. Her brain and heart continue to war on and on. Can she be known as more than what they want? What she perceives herself to be? 

They see a woman as curves and moves and soft skin and finger tips. But who will notice her will; her passion; her drive for beauty, creativity, simplicity; and life and her commitment to her dreams, however shattered they seem? 

She is just a body laying there. She wants to be held with no expectation to give. She just wants to know her existence matters in this world of chaos, confusion, a world of massive killings that take away what is real: enchanting beauty; endearing, spectacular moments that you will never get back. How can this be the same world, so empty and full at the same time; so clear yet so bewildering; so tangible yet complex; so full of love, kindness, and beauty yet wrought with murder, depravity and despair.

Somewhere she lays. In a far off bed with cheek against tear-stained pillow.

I look into a blue sky with powder white clouds, cruising. Where are they off to? With birds and dragonflies and bees off in their own little worlds, their nonexistent brains keeping them free from confusion and the hate, that we as nameless humans are trapped in. Flitting about from leaf to leaf, zooming up and down and around the clouds, I long to have their freedom for just one moment.

Whether on the grass or on my bed, I will forever be a jumbled up mess, a mind constantly shifting with its longings, questions, quests, dreams, hopes, images. I can see insider her brain: images of peace. And I can feel it in her body: deep breath that feels like heaven. And I hear it in her ears: You can always have a moment like this. You must search for it. You must take time out for it. You need it to survive.

Written 7/21/12 inspired by my mind and the Aurora, CO shooting


Thoughts for today…

I have been having thoughts lately. That is not abnormal of course. I have established that I am different than a lot of people. I think a lot…a LOT. It is hard for me to stop thinking. Here is a sample…I don’t know if I want to be called a Christian because I don’t want people to think I am “one of those” annoying people, but I also don’t want to be ashamed to be called one. Because I literally am a Christian-“follower of Christ.” People can think what they want. But I DO really care what they think…But I am still confused. How do I know for sure Christianity is the “right” religion? All I know is I am done with religion but I am not done with the One who saved my life. Speaking of which, I am starting another blog about depression. I have been thinking a lot about my dreams. I sometimes don’t think I have any…but I do. My main one being I’d like to be a writer and I believe God wants me to stop hiding my gift. I was convicted of this after reading a great book called The Soul Tells a Story last year. Today I talked to my brother Nate and he gave me some ideas about how to get people to read my stuff, even though, of course, I have major performance anxiety and am terrified of what people think of me (see above). Obviously, this one thing (obsessing over making everyone happy) is my main barrier in life. I have always struggled with it…for reasons I won’t get into here. But I’m sick of it. I want to be carefree. I want to stop thinking I suck at everything I try to do and quitting doing things that once brought me joy just because I am not perfect at them. I want to stop being envious of people in my life who have what I supposedly want (mostly women) instead of enjoying the wonderful position I am in right now in life. Oh God, I can’t wait to be free. I know I am more free than I have ever been but I have such a LONG way to go.

>On Being Single

>I am going to write about something quite personal. Not that anyone reads this, but I hope it encourages maybe at least one person. I have recently decided to stop dating. At least at this time in my life. So here it is: I am single, and increasingly, I am proud of it.

This is how I ended my personal journal/prayer today: “I never dreamed I’d be here. Sitting alone on my bed age 25 1/2, no husband or kids, no full time job, college loans not paid off, living in a dark, warm, rattly basement room with two single 30-something women. And I’d never dreamed that I’d be, what was that, content?”

That is, almost content.

I am so sick of mommy blogs. Okay, so when I find myself not working like today (again), I read blogs, a lot of them written by married women with young children. I have some favorites that you can find on my blog roll. I like them because they are entertaining, yes, the kids are adorable, and I like getting ideas for cooking, crafts, etc. Some I read so often, I feel like I almost know the people. But when I look at these blogs, bad thoughts play in my head at times. Bad thoughts I have come to find quite common.

That is me, that is supposed to be me.

Who ever said I was supposed to be them anyway? Well, this is a very touchy subject. But the pain, thanks be to God, has ever decreased over time and I can talk about it now.

It goes back to what a lot of you women remember growing up. Well, for as long as I can remember, I wanted to have babies. I’ve come to realize it’s because my mom was the oldest of five kids, my dad in the middle of four, and so there were always women having babies in our family. I just loved them. I remember for a long time, there was a new baby every year in our family (on either or both sides). I was a typical little girl, with lots of dolls. As I grew up it turned into, my goal in life was not only to have babies, but to find that “perfect someone” to have babies with. Okay, so it wasn’t my number one goal, but it was ALWAYS in the back of my mind in my early teens, then into high school and college. Especially as I came to realize when many of the women (grandma, mom, aunts) met and married their spouses. Quite young. Met in their teens and married by age 20 or 21.

As a child, I idealized women and, regrettably, I still do. (That’s why this blogging business can be dangerous.) My mom, aunts, cousins, grandma, teachers, babysitters, and all the women in my favorite movies and shows, especially Dr. Quinn, Laura Ingalls, and Anne of Green Gables.

With all these women, there was usually one similarity. They had a man. And if they didn’t (by a certain age), something was wrong with them. You see, one of my biggest fears is that people might see me the way I saw single, unmarried women. AS a child, I remember feeling pleasure that a teacher was “Mrs.” but if she was “Miss” or “Ms.” something must be wrong. If the teacher was “Ms.” that meant she was divorced and if she was “Miss” and not reasonably young I would think, “Why is she not married? Is she not pretty enough?” blah blah blah.

Somehow in my thoughts and observations as a young girl, I came to believe this is what it means to be beautiful and worthy: to have a wonderful man at your side and to have his babies. While I still struggle now to dismiss this as a lie, I am so proud of how far I have come!

I still wonder when I see beautiful women how or why they are single. But then I am reminded, Oh yeah. I’m a beautiful woman and single. (In fact, I’ve been asked this so many times in my life.) So in a way, it’s kind of nice to have support and be supported by people like me.

That brings me to a point of frustration: I wish there were more blogs out there that are written by people like me: mid 20s, single, and not that content about it! It seems almost every blog is young, married and trying to get pregnant; young, married with kids; or older 30s, married with kids. There are a few that are young and newly engaged or married, and even fewer that are college age. Even less I have found are older than 40. Okay there are a few that are single and 20s, but they seem more the partyer hard core type, not the traditional-at-heart like I am. While I enjoy reading all different types of blogs, it would be nice to find a few like mine! (But at least I have my friend Becca’s blog. She and I are kind of in the same boat, I think!)

Thanks for listening to my scoop on singlehood. If you’re there, hang on, I understand!