WORDS, WORDS, WORDS: INSOMNIA'S TRUTH AND LIES

Finding the right words isn't as easy as it can seem. I think I write mostly because if I didn't I would have no way of communicating with anyone, especially myself.

Right now for instance. I'm feeling something, but I couldn't tell you exactly what it is. I can't even tell myself what it is. All I know is it makes my soul restless.

I feel like I'm on the verge of losing it. Whether it is my mind, my soul's balance in this life, or my calm, or my cool, or my peace. Either way I feel anxious and frustrated and bored.

All I want to do is get in the car and drive, away. Or run. Or scream, except I never scream. I honestly don't recall a single time where something made me scream. All I know is something is building up and building up and about to overflow into a surge of...dark energy. It's dark and heavy and electric. It pulses through every nerve in my body and it wants me to break.

I get this feeling pretty much every night at around 3:00 am. I'm lyinging here, still unable to fall asleep, and it kills me that I can't.

"Do you know how hard it is to fall asleep when you know that's what you're supposed to do." -Alaric, The Vampire Diaries (Yes, I just said Vampire Diaries.)

 

I wish my body had a way it could scream physically instead of my voice. It wants to find a way, and it feels like whatever that way would be, it...I don't know.

I used to get to hit the stitching off of softballs for hours every day when I was healthy. I used to run and shoot hoops and serve a volleyball and field a grounder and hear the pop of the glove and the crack of the bat. That was how my healthy younger self allowed my body to scream away life's stress. But now? Now I feel like I've got nothing.

Yeah, I bought a guitar to replace sports, but it's not the same. And besides, my carpel tunnel syndrome is so bad I have like six Salan Pas patches on my wrist and then I taped it for the stability and compression. Typing right now is more difficult than you can imagine. So playing the guitar couldn't be more out of the question. But without softball and the guitar, and with no other way to "scream" and release the anxiety, here I am writing. As if typing on a screen is somehow similar to hitting a softball. It's not. Nothing is. But it's all I've got, so I'm clinging to it like my life depends on it, because most days, and especially nights, I honestly believe it does.

And I feel like if I can just find the right words to tap out to describe what I'm feeling then maybe it will go away. Like I can trap it on the Internet instead of letting it fester inside.

It feels like if I can just tell myself and all of you what's wrong, what's right, what is true, and what is false in my life, then it will actually be brought to life. Like I'm writing it into existence. Or out of existence. And I suppose sometimes, and maybe dare I say often, it's true: I do feel like I write things and feelings and experiences into or out of existence. Whatever I need them to be or do. But tonight, like a lot of nights, all of this just feels like words. Words, words, words.

 

I am now finding myself staring at the screen. At the keyboard. At all these letters that supposedly mean something, especially if arranged "correctly", and I am thinking, "Really?". I really expect tapping on a bunch of symbols a certain way is supposed to make me and other people feel differently, and for long dramatic, life changing periods of time? It's crazy.

And yet...there's no way I can stop.

And I suppose I should just be thankful for a way to communicate. A lot of people can't, don't, or won't. And to me that would be one of the worst forms of torture.

And I suppose even if I feel just barely three ounces less crazy inside having typed out these ramblings, that is a success. And I'd be foolish and spoiled to call it anything less.

And I suppose if I didn't give up on writing, even in the darkest hours when it just feels silly talking to all three of you and myself, then that's a win too.

I just wish communicating was easier. I wish I could express myself like characters in a movie or tv show who have the best writers laboring over how they should perfectly say what they are thinking and feeling. I often envy characters on tv, to tell you the truth. Not because of who they are or where they are or what they are doing, but because of their abilities to express themselves clearly and seemingly without fear.

I know a ton of people wonder why I hate the telephone. And they wonder why I would rather write something instead of just saying it. Here's the thing about us writers: we are scared as hell talking verbally either face to face or on the phone. But we can be quite fearless behind the safety of a screen. I'm telling you, if you want to really know what I'm thinking and feeling and going through, let me write it. Because there's no way I've been constructed by God to be able to say it to your face. Not yet anyway.

Writing helps me conquer, or at least admit and address my biggest fears.

Tonight, I fear what insomnia is doing to me, not just physically, but to absolutely every other aspect of my health.

And I fear if and when it will break me.

And I'm even more scared of what my breakdown will look like.

And I endlessly worry why I can't just get in bed, let my head hit the pillow, and then be sleeping silently and peacefully and restoratively.

I freak out at this hour if it's my fault. If I did something or am doing something to screw the natural order of my life up. And I then wonder if this is just God's plan. And if it is, why does the whole flipping world make me feel so bad for not sleeping when the world tells me I am supposed to. It's not fair.

And then I wonder why I need to know why. Can't I just continue trying my best and leave the rest to God? Why is the worst part of insomnia being awake at 4:00 am over analyzing your insomnia? Maybe this is the Devil's plan, his trick, I think to myself. To get me to freak out about not sleeping during the hours the world tells me to sleep, which only gets me to sleep even less. yeah, I think, it's all his fault.

And then I have to humble myself enough to remember my motto: you can either blame the Devil OR thank God.

And then I feel even more horrible. And then I lose even more sleep--This is crap. Pure crap. Grrrr. I need a snack.

 

Dear Lord,

Help me, help me, help me trust You and this life you have given me, whatever it may be, whatever it may look like to everybody else, and whatever it feels like. And Lord, if I am worthy, please reveal Your whole Truth to me.

And thank you, thank you, thank you for guiding me over the years to writing and persisting through all my reluctance towards this form of art and expression. You knew I would need this outlet long before I did, especially at 4:30 am. Thank you.

And please calm my soul and the souls of my readers and friends and family tonight, right now, and every night. Or may we at least realize through our attempting pure unrelenting trust in You that there is no reason to feel restless when You are right here with us.

Help me to remember to stop playing the blame game and just be thankful I am Yours and Yours alone and You love me enough to get me through any and everything, even and especially endless amount of sleepless nights.

Besides, nothing focuses my full attention on You more than my insomnia. Pain truly is Your megaphone like C. S. Lewis says. Maybe it's time I stop talking and venting and screaming and I start shutting up, lying still and listening to You. Tell me everything Lord. Here I am.

Amen

 

 

 

 

By the way, It's 5:00 am. I have to stop. This will realistically get cleaned up more later. But I'm counting on these issues getting out of my head, heart, and soul and lost in the ether world. I certainly hope so and will pretend its true. Now, for that snack.

 

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ENDURE THE ELEMENTS

 

 

I just really love this from Element Skateboards, so I cleaned it up a bit.

 

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THE PROMISE OF MEANING

Bob Goff (@bobgoff) 8/7/12 12:22 PM Jesus never said He'd eliminate all of the confusion from our lives; He just promised He'd bring meaning to it @lovedoes

 

C. S. Lewis says he never wrote The Problem Of Pain as a self help book. But nothing, and I mean nothing, has helped me stay strong through all my suffering more than understanding why we suffer. Once I knew the meaning of my suffering, our suffering, I knew that I didn't need or want God to eliminate it. I knew wholeheartedly that my suffering had meaning. And I never wanted to be foolish enough or spoiled enough to dare ask the suffering, conflict, trial, tribulation, or confusion to be eliminated. I only ask it has His meaning for me and my life.

Christ promised us many troubles in this world, and yet we sit way down here and complain about it. We have the audacity to ask God "Why me?" and Why this?" and "Why won't you take this cross from me?" but they are never questions, are they? Because if they were legitimate questions we would take the time to find the answers, but we don't. We just keep pretending those statements are some deep theological question, but they aren't. They are said in moments of pure doubt and frustration. They are said with a bit of anger in them. They are us lamenting.


They aren't questions. But they should be. They need to be. Because if you're gonna sit around down here on earth wasting all your time lamenting that you are suffering, you are wasting the life God gave you and you are ignoring His purpose for you and your life.


If you are going to "ask" a question, seek out the answer! God has given us meaning for our suffering, for our confusion, for everything eternally important in our lives through the example of Christ. The answers are here. They are right around the corner. Keep looking. Let Christ bring meaning to your life. All of it. The good and the bad. The easy and the hard. The moments of clarity and of confusion. He is God remember. He has the answers. So, ask Him the meaning of whatever you are struggling with, and seek out His answer. You will be amazed and rejuvenated, and it will bring you even closer to Him.

 

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I'M STILL TALKING TO MYSELF

"It's one of my theories that when people give you advice, they're just really talking to themselves in the past. This book is me talking to a previous version of myself." - Austin Kleon

Kleon is right. I couldn't have said it better myself. For years I thought I was writing for all of you, so you could learn now what I learned when it was almost too late. The truth though, is that I write for me, and to me.

I wish I could get the younger version of myself to listen to what I know now. But, I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't have wanted to hear a single word of it. Not just because I was an adolescent, but because I didn't want to believe this Truth. I loved my lies. They made sense. They were easier than the Truth. It was too scary to imagine I had it wrong the whole time, so I continued pretending I was right.

Every word I type is me talking to myself. I only put it online because I know I can't be the only one who thinks or feels this way, or who needs to hear the Truth, even if it's for the 100th time. Because, honestly, it often doesn't matter how many times we hear the Truth, we still don't do anything about it. Not yet anyways.

"Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again." - Andre Gide

So look, I'm gonna repeat myself, and the tone can get really honest and harsh on here really quickly. At the end of the day, I'm yelling at the old me, and the current me who hasn't completely listened to the me I want to be, ok? But I'm asking all of you to be honest with yourselves. If you could, would you be saying these things to your old selves? Your current selves? Just think about that.

Memoirists say you don't know who you are until you tell your story. This blog is me trying to figure out who I was, who I am, and who I am striving to be. You'd do well to do the same. We'd do well to encourage each other to do this as often as we can.

And look, I know it's easier not to take the time in our day to ask these kinds of questions, and it's even easier to think we don't have the time to ask these questions. But the Truth is, from someone talking to her former self, you need to make time. It's more important than you can even imagine. You need to know who you are in comparison to who you were and who you want to be. I don't know how you know how to live your life if you don't ask these questions and find their answers. They tell you what is and isn't necessary. For all you know, you could be wasting hours of your day every day on something that has nothing to do with who you are striving to be. Who you want to be tells you what you need to do. It is terrifyingly that simple, and it will turn your whole world upside down, and you may not be ready for that now. But your choice is face it now, or wait for God to give you no other choice later. Either way, asking the big questions is vital to your faith and life. It's now because you choose Truth, or it's later when God makes you face the Truth, usually at a very inopportune time. It doesn't seem like it's your choice, but it is. Sorry.

I hope none of you feel like I'm scolding you with advice. Seriously, that would break my heart. I've had people shove their ideas, religions, thoughts, and opinions down my throat. It stole my peace for weeks, sometimes months. I was so angry.

I don't want my audience to feel angry. I want you to feel inspired. Inspired to take a closer look at everything. Not just yourselves and your lives, but each other, nature, God, art, books, television. Just look more closely at everything because I never used to and I'm upset about it.

And hey, feel free to comment what you would love to tell your former self. We all have a ton we can learn from each other. It's about time we communicate our pasts to prevent other people's futures from looking just like them. So please share your Truth with me, with us. Trust me, I need all the help I can get, and I bet I'm not the only one. Continue the conversation below. Take care. And good luck.

 

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DON'T GIVE UP

 

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WITHOUT YOU

Without You by Shawn McDonald

[VERSE 1]

And sometimes a man
has to get everything taken away
Before he realizes
Just how good he’s got it made
And please be thankful
Of what you got cause if your not it just might pass you on by
And you will find yourself standin’ there
Oh, asking the question: “why?”


[CHORUS]
And what would I do
If I did not have you
And what would I say
If I had no one to say it to
Yes, I would be
Oh, so lonely, without you

[VERSE 2]

And I don’t know how long I’ll be around
I’m travelin’ from town to town
And let me take a moment and realize 
Just how I feel inside
And all my friends it’s been rough
Oh, and I love you all so
And no matter where I go
It’s in my heart, I’ll hold you close

-Chorus-


[BRIDGE]
And what would I do
If I did not have you
And what would I say
If I...I had no one to say…
To say it too
I would be
Oh, I would be so lonely
Without...
Without you


(Softer)
-chorus-

I mean every word.

HEAVY, DARK, EVIL EMOTIONAL LIES

"...suffering is not good in itself. What is good in any painful experience is, for the sufferer, his submission to the will of God, and, for the spectators, the compassion aroused and the acts of mercy to which it leads." - C. S. Lewis

I'm sorry, but I HAVE to vent this. I do not think I have so blatantly gotten this out of me on a blog before. 

I've told God. I've told a select few people. I've hinted at it. But I have never thrown it into the universe. But understand I am saying it just to get it out of me. To get these sticky, heavy, dark, evil EMOTIONS out of me. They are festering and growing and I hate it. I just hate these emotions dragging me down and throwing me all about. Making me FEEL like something is true when it probably isn't. 

It SEEMS and FEELS like I don't have a support system to help me through Stills Disease. 

Yeah, there's mom and dad but they can't fully understand and they can't do it all. Yeah L--- understands more than any other person on this planet but we are both such a mess and so far away from each other...and there are a SELECT few more, but I'm talking about people going out of their way to support me and be here for me. People researching this disease and my meds and anticipating my needs before I am experiencing them. I had someone do that before, so I know it is possible. But where are they now?

I see it on tv and in movies and in real life all the time. A hoard of family and friends gathering around the one they love who is struggling. Where is my hoard of people? Where is my support system?

I often wonder if it's all my fault or theirs. 

Yeah while I was healthy I was either self obsessed or with only one set of my grandparents. That was my fault. I am NOT proud of that. But...I don't know. 

Or is it my fault for not calling these people, having them over, and then ripping my heart out right in front of them, handing it to them and telling them what it felt like to be dying, and how I worry every day I will be hospitalized. And how every day I think about what it will be like to die early since I probably will, and how even if I don't, by then it will be so bad I will want to. Is it my fault for not doing that? Is it my fault I don't want to tell them how bad it is and that's why they aren't around? Because they don't know? Because I never spent energy I DON'T have telling them how horrible this whole thing is? Is it? Is it all my fault?

Maybe it is. I dont know anymore. Ive spent the last almost eight years wondering where my hoards are, if they even exist, and will they ever show up, and what will it take for them to show up? Ive wondered if will take something like cancer for me to finally have their attention. Is that all that we deem as important enough for us to finally stop what we are doing and be there for someone these days? And I HATE how I'm often thinking about if that happens, God forbid, will I even want them around? Often I think I wouldn't want them anywhere near me because they missed out on helping me for eight whole years. But maybe things will be different in the future. Maybe things will be so bad my heart will finally soften and I will accept their delayed support anyway...

I wonder how many people have given up on me, if that's the problem? I don't have people over and I think that hurts their feelings or something? Like its my fault for not letting them visit? It doesn't matter that I'm barely functioning, I'm completely depleted of energy, I haven't showered in days, they NEVER stay for a SHORT visit, and often they are carrying so many germs that could seriously attack my body and put me in the hospital. Its ALL my fault for never inviting them over! Right?

And maybe I don't love them as much as I used to because I never go to events anymore. Because I haven't been in seven years. Not like that timing should mean anything. Oh no, it's just a coincidence! And it doesn't matter that I never leave the house except for a doctors appointment. All that matters is that I never show up to THEIR important event. Right?

All I can do is shake my head and try not to cry. 

I give a shrug of my shoulders to the whole scenario. 

I look up at the ceiling as if God lives sitting somewhere just beyond it and ask Him what I should do or say now. 

I don't know. I just don't know. 

It's been eight years of fighting this on my own, and I just don't know what to say or do about it anymore. I honestly don't. And I'm scared as hell of what I'm gonna do if this gets any worse than it already is because I truly believe we (my parents and I) will not be able to do this alone very much longer. And I can't think of a single person who will stop everything in their own lives simply to help us with ours. What happened?! Why?! And what are we gonna do?! What am I gonna do?! I can't support myself by myself at all, let alone up until the day I die! 

I'm afraid all will crumble before me at any moment and I will be all alone. I'm afraid. I'm horribly afraid of being alone. Because I know I CAN NOT get through this alone. 

Where is the compassion? Where are the acts of mercy? Where are my people? Lord what did I do to lose my people?

Lord why are these emotions getting me so worked up about this, even eight years later? 

Lord...let logic, Your Truth, constantly and ceaselessly remind me that sometimes the pain in our own lives is so loud we can't hear the pain in anyone else's. 

Help me. 

Soften my heart. 

Tell me the Truth. 

Tell me Your Truth. 

And make sure I know every moment of every day that You are my support system! You are my people! And You should be more than enough to get me through this! Amen (so be it truly).

TRUE SELF

Jon Acuff (@jonacuff) 8/4/12 12:30 PM Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion. - Brennan Manning

I've been trying to find a simple way to say this for seven years. Here it is. It is one of the most important Truths:

I thought my identity came from what I did: sports, school, work. Once God took all of those things away I thought I had nothing left. I felt like no one. Simply because I couldn't do anything anymore because of my health problems. But I've come to realize the only real identity I had left. The identity I can never lose. The identity that no one can ever take from me.

The others were illusions. Devil's lies. I'm not what I do. I'm not what I can't do. All that I am is loved. Radically, fiercely, furiously, and purely by God. 

That is who I am. That is who you are. Nothing else matters. 

We are His Beloved. His servants. His children. His students. His sheep.

What more could we need? 

I'll tell you: nothing.

"BROKEN" HEART SONG

TWLOHA (@TWLOHA) 8/6/12 7:15 AM "Sometimes the break in your heart is like the hole in the flute. Sometimes it’s the place where the music comes through." - Andrea Gibson

God has a plan, a perfect purpose, for every heartache you go through. Imagine the song He can create with you if you allow Him to break you into His instrument. 

LIFE BEGINS AT THE END