I am grumpy. But it's a different grumpy... a weird grumpy. A grumpy I have never known before.
Today, after church, I had to go to the doctor to have an incredibly evasive test done. (everything is fine, don't worry). But it's the type of test that, if/when you have it done for the very first time, you feel so utterly and completely violated afterwards... and after finding out that everything is going to be ok, you become weary with relief. Incredibly drained because all of the worry and fear that you were trying to ignore suddenly disappears and you feel... different. Free. But in a not so free way. It is hard to explain. It is the type of thing where, after it is done, you go back to your apartment, curl up in an afghan with your cat and cry and sleep. This has been my day.
It is extremely psychological. And for someone who thinks too much about everything to begin with (but really, what girl doesn't?), it was exhausting. This is why I am grumpy. This is why I feel disgusting today. This is why I walked to work in an old t-shirt and sweat pants... and why I yelled at a man in my head for calling me beautiful, when I know darn well that I'm not (at least today). But this yelling in my head (I am the epitome of passive-aggressive) made me stop for a second and think.
Most of the people that we meet in our day, or interact with in our day, have no idea what we have already experienced. The people that I encountered later at work, had no clue that I had just had an emotionally draining day. The people whom I communicated with through facebook and e-mail didn't either. No idea. I have a problem with suffering in silence. There are a lot of things I simply choose not to complain about or talk about, because I do not see the point. Yet then, how are people to know or understand when I am dealing with something big in my life?
I go through life thinking that everyone should be able to read my thoughts. How naive. Looking back, I really think that this behavior came about when I was first diagnosed with firbomyalgia. When I was first diagnosed, I complained all the time, wanted people to pity me. Then something changed. After reading a verse in the Bible, in the book of John, my attitude changed. I tried to complain less. I had a new outlook on life, on my condition. But this being said, I stopped asking for help, even though I needed it. I think I grew to be silently proud. One of my ex's was perfect for me. He learned not to ask if he could help me, but just do things for me, grabbing heavy loads of out my hands, opening doors for me (though I tried not to let him), always giving me a seat if there was only one available (and when I tried not to let him, making me). It was good for me. After we broke up, I went back to my old habits though. Though this was 7 years ago, I am still in conflict with these habits.
I am so open with every part of my life, you all know that if you want to know something about me, no matter how personal, all you have to do is ask. Yet I am too prideful to ask for help... and I expect it from people... and get upset when they do not help me, even though I do not ask them. I just want them to know. I very much dislike that I am like this... can you please pray for me to change this mindset, to change my ways? It will take a while... but with God's help, I shall become myself. The person I am meant to be. One little annoying nuance at a time. I long to be the woman that He desires me to be. This is why I ask for your help. This is why I write. This is why I communicate with all of you. As someone who works almost all of the time, I need a lot of alone time to be able to survive. You, my friends whom I have met over the years, you have become a community that I can rely on and I am so blessed to have every one of you in my life. Thank you.
Much love,
Deena
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
growing...
As most of you know, I have been through the ringer in the past few months.
Setting foot in Toronto after a fantastic trip to Saskatchewan, I was completely naive to what lay ahead of me. While visiting my old Bible College in Sask, I had prayed for brokeness. This, God granted me. I was greatly encouraged and extremely broken during one particular chapel experience that I will never forget. This, however, was just the tip of the ice burg. I was blissfully unaware that when you ask God for something like brokeness, and He thinks that you are ready for it... you'd better be prepared for what lies ahead. And I am extremely grateful.
As my life kept being challenged and changed and the tears kept pouring over the last few months, I found myself drawing deeper and deeper to my Savior. But I also found myself learning more and more about myself.
One of the most incredible things that I have taken from this experience is a renewed sense of emotions. As I have drawn closer to my Lord, I have found that my emotions have become more raw and exposed. My heart breaks over little things that I see in the world and bubbles with joyous laughter over the most ridiculous (I laughed the other day for 5 minutes, with tears rolling down my face over the word 'hearty'. As in 'hearty soup'). And I am loving every minute of this. I also feel like my eyes have been opened. I am more friendly, making more of an effort with customers at work... I'm beginning to remember and realize that if I can make their day a little bit better, than this is something that I would like to do.
On Wednesday, a regular came into the shop. We've never really chatted with her, but she comes in quite frequently and has always been pleasant with us. I was alone, and she came in on the phone, with tears streaming down her face. She was speaking in another language, but unabashedly approached me and ordered her tea As she continued to weep, I felt myself tearing up as well. I have no idea what was going on, I have no clue why she was this upset. But I was touched that she was humble enough to share this emotion openly in front of me. As I handed her her tea, I handed her a note that simply said 'I hope your day gets better :o) " and she smiled a tearful smile at me and mouthed the words 'thank you'. As she left, my eyes welled up again. It feels as if I am so in tune with my Creator that I am getting a small glimpse into His heart. And I love it and am thankful for it.
I was reminded yesterday of a newer song by one of my favorite Christian bands, Downhere. The chorus goes:
Here I am, Lord send me,
All of my life, I make an offering,
Here I am, Lord send me,
Somehow my story, Is part of your plan,
Here I am"
I love that. Somehow my story, is part of Your plan... WOW. That's kind of amazing. Somehow He uses me, in ways that I cannot fathom. I want to be open and willing to be used.
Thank You Lord for these reminders in my life, and my new found heightened emotion. It is all a blessing.
thank You Father!
Blessings,
Deena
Setting foot in Toronto after a fantastic trip to Saskatchewan, I was completely naive to what lay ahead of me. While visiting my old Bible College in Sask, I had prayed for brokeness. This, God granted me. I was greatly encouraged and extremely broken during one particular chapel experience that I will never forget. This, however, was just the tip of the ice burg. I was blissfully unaware that when you ask God for something like brokeness, and He thinks that you are ready for it... you'd better be prepared for what lies ahead. And I am extremely grateful.
As my life kept being challenged and changed and the tears kept pouring over the last few months, I found myself drawing deeper and deeper to my Savior. But I also found myself learning more and more about myself.
One of the most incredible things that I have taken from this experience is a renewed sense of emotions. As I have drawn closer to my Lord, I have found that my emotions have become more raw and exposed. My heart breaks over little things that I see in the world and bubbles with joyous laughter over the most ridiculous (I laughed the other day for 5 minutes, with tears rolling down my face over the word 'hearty'. As in 'hearty soup'). And I am loving every minute of this. I also feel like my eyes have been opened. I am more friendly, making more of an effort with customers at work... I'm beginning to remember and realize that if I can make their day a little bit better, than this is something that I would like to do.
On Wednesday, a regular came into the shop. We've never really chatted with her, but she comes in quite frequently and has always been pleasant with us. I was alone, and she came in on the phone, with tears streaming down her face. She was speaking in another language, but unabashedly approached me and ordered her tea As she continued to weep, I felt myself tearing up as well. I have no idea what was going on, I have no clue why she was this upset. But I was touched that she was humble enough to share this emotion openly in front of me. As I handed her her tea, I handed her a note that simply said 'I hope your day gets better :o) " and she smiled a tearful smile at me and mouthed the words 'thank you'. As she left, my eyes welled up again. It feels as if I am so in tune with my Creator that I am getting a small glimpse into His heart. And I love it and am thankful for it.
I was reminded yesterday of a newer song by one of my favorite Christian bands, Downhere. The chorus goes:
Here I am, Lord send me,
All of my life, I make an offering,
Here I am, Lord send me,
Somehow my story, Is part of your plan,
Here I am"
I love that. Somehow my story, is part of Your plan... WOW. That's kind of amazing. Somehow He uses me, in ways that I cannot fathom. I want to be open and willing to be used.
Thank You Lord for these reminders in my life, and my new found heightened emotion. It is all a blessing.
thank You Father!
Blessings,
Deena
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Morbid thoughts
I've been thinking a lot about death lately. To the point where, last night at work, I asked an acquaintance if he would come to my funeral if I died. His response "for sure I would, I liked you as a person. Would you sing "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" at mine?" made me laugh.
I've been thinking a lot about my upcoming summer and how much flying I have to do. For the first time in a long time, I am actually anxious about all of these flights, simply because there have been so many accidents lately. Not only this though, the dreaded G20 summit is coming. Toronto is freaking out.
I don't know much about the G20, nor do I want to. But what I can tell you is this: Most Torontonians that I have talked to are afraid that our city is going to be changed in drastic ways after it takes place. Businesses are being shut down, dorm students are being moved, subway lines are closing... I work in the financial district, right in the heart of it. Earlier this year, a plot to blow up the buildings surrounding us was uncovered before anything drastic could happen, but this has always stayed in my mind. What if they hadn't found out? I don't like playing the 'what if' card. But these thoughts swirl. Sometimes I wonder.
Terrorists groups have gone so far as to post disturbing videos on YouTube about which buildings they are going to target. In a recent one, red skull and cross bones were shown all over a downtown map, targeting both of the buildings that I work in. This is, suffice it to say, a little unnerving. Granted, both jobs will not be taking place on this weekend I am sure. I am also not even here that weekend, I will be celebrating a dear friends wedding in Saskatchewan. But I am still nervous. For my friends. For this city that I have learned to love.
Task forces are being trained, chemical warfare specialists are being brought in... police riot lines and snipers are ready to go. It is scary. There is a feeling in the air that is not like Toronto. Usually we walk around with an air of pride in this city. It really is, I hate to admit, a great place to live. Now there is the feeling on tension. Disdain. Fear or, at the least, concern, in what is to come. Perhaps nothing. Maybe nothing will happen. But there is always the possibility that someone will miss something and bad things will take place... There have been warning bombs already set off at banks in Ottawa. What is to say that in the next few weeks we, in the downtown financial district, will not also be hit like this? I ask you to pray for my city. Keep us and the G20 summit in your prayers. Thank you so much.
I have written all of this in order to justify what I am about to write... I don't have a will, I don't have any sort of 'goodbye' to my family if something does go wrong in my life. Consider the following as such. I have been meaning for a while to write something. You never know what will happen. Here is the generic, to my friends and family if something ever happens to me, letter. No morbid thoughts. Just the desire to get these feelings out there: (i just need to say, this is NOT in any way a suicide note. k? Don't think that. This is just a little something about the thoughts going through my head lately. Don't worry about me, I am very happy with my life! :o)
I have, possibly naively, dared to believe lately that I am destined for greatness. I look back throughout my life and can see moments when I clearly could have died. Moments when God has grabbed me and held on to me, kept me safe. I believe that He has a great plan for me and that I am meant to touch the world with my life. But what if I die tomorrow? We don't know. We have no idea what is going to happen to us, or when God is going to call us home. Strict Catholic Italians do not understand the idea of making plans for the future. They truly believe that God is in control of every aspect of their lives and that they go against Him if they decided to make plans, for, say, supper in next Friday. I too believe that God is in control of every aspect of my life, but I dare to make plans. He often changes them though... :o) Sometimes I think that the Catholic Italian way of thinking is the better route.
I pray that I die while fast asleep, much later on in my life (like... 82. I would like to die when I am 82 years old, if we get to choose. Which we don't), but what if I am meant to leave sooner? We don't know. We cannot focus on such things or we will become paranoid drones, but the thought passes over my mind occasionally and so I wonder. I wonder if I died tomorrow, how many people would be touched. I wonder if I have done enough in my almost 26 years to impact anyone around me. I hope and pray that I have. That I have done enough. I hope and pray that when I do leave this earth, that if we have ever had a fight, if I have ever been selfish with you (which I'm sure I have, given my track record), if I have ever hurt you, be it intentionally (oh the thought) or unintentionally, that you would please forgive me. I hope and pray that you can remember the good about me, and not the bad. I hope and pray you are able to see the good through the bad, because sometimes I am unable and wonder, at those moments, if there is any good at all. I am learning to believe that I am an ok person. I hope you believe this too. I am sorry for any grief, for any heart ache, for any pain that our friendship has brought upon you, because of me. This was never my intent. I hope and pray that our friendship, our relationship, the love that we share, has brought some joy to your life, to your heart. I hope and pray that I have been able to make you laugh, make you think about things in a different way, but most importantly, helped you to see God.
If anything should happen, be it a pre-G20 bomb warning, be it a plane crash, whatever it is. If I die before being able to talk to you again... I thank each and every one of you for being a part of my life. You have all touched me in some way, shape or form. My life has been molded by you, my friends, my acquaintances, my relationships. You have all helped me to become a better person. Thank you for that.
If God decides to take me home before I am an old woman, you may be upset. But I do not want this. I want yo to celebrate my life. I want you to remember the passion and drive that got me through every day. I want you to remember that, above all, whenever He calls me home, I know and believe that this was my time. God's will is great. His desires are perfect. His timing is impeccable. And He does not make mistakes.
I love you all.
Many blessings :o)
ci vediamo!
Deena
(p.s. Mom gets Java, Jeff gets my iPhone and computer and keyboard and Sheena gets her first choice of my c.d.'s and movies. But Mel Harder gets all of my opera books/c.ds/dvds :o)
I've been thinking a lot about my upcoming summer and how much flying I have to do. For the first time in a long time, I am actually anxious about all of these flights, simply because there have been so many accidents lately. Not only this though, the dreaded G20 summit is coming. Toronto is freaking out.
I don't know much about the G20, nor do I want to. But what I can tell you is this: Most Torontonians that I have talked to are afraid that our city is going to be changed in drastic ways after it takes place. Businesses are being shut down, dorm students are being moved, subway lines are closing... I work in the financial district, right in the heart of it. Earlier this year, a plot to blow up the buildings surrounding us was uncovered before anything drastic could happen, but this has always stayed in my mind. What if they hadn't found out? I don't like playing the 'what if' card. But these thoughts swirl. Sometimes I wonder.
Terrorists groups have gone so far as to post disturbing videos on YouTube about which buildings they are going to target. In a recent one, red skull and cross bones were shown all over a downtown map, targeting both of the buildings that I work in. This is, suffice it to say, a little unnerving. Granted, both jobs will not be taking place on this weekend I am sure. I am also not even here that weekend, I will be celebrating a dear friends wedding in Saskatchewan. But I am still nervous. For my friends. For this city that I have learned to love.
Task forces are being trained, chemical warfare specialists are being brought in... police riot lines and snipers are ready to go. It is scary. There is a feeling in the air that is not like Toronto. Usually we walk around with an air of pride in this city. It really is, I hate to admit, a great place to live. Now there is the feeling on tension. Disdain. Fear or, at the least, concern, in what is to come. Perhaps nothing. Maybe nothing will happen. But there is always the possibility that someone will miss something and bad things will take place... There have been warning bombs already set off at banks in Ottawa. What is to say that in the next few weeks we, in the downtown financial district, will not also be hit like this? I ask you to pray for my city. Keep us and the G20 summit in your prayers. Thank you so much.
I have written all of this in order to justify what I am about to write... I don't have a will, I don't have any sort of 'goodbye' to my family if something does go wrong in my life. Consider the following as such. I have been meaning for a while to write something. You never know what will happen. Here is the generic, to my friends and family if something ever happens to me, letter. No morbid thoughts. Just the desire to get these feelings out there: (i just need to say, this is NOT in any way a suicide note. k? Don't think that. This is just a little something about the thoughts going through my head lately. Don't worry about me, I am very happy with my life! :o)
I have, possibly naively, dared to believe lately that I am destined for greatness. I look back throughout my life and can see moments when I clearly could have died. Moments when God has grabbed me and held on to me, kept me safe. I believe that He has a great plan for me and that I am meant to touch the world with my life. But what if I die tomorrow? We don't know. We have no idea what is going to happen to us, or when God is going to call us home. Strict Catholic Italians do not understand the idea of making plans for the future. They truly believe that God is in control of every aspect of their lives and that they go against Him if they decided to make plans, for, say, supper in next Friday. I too believe that God is in control of every aspect of my life, but I dare to make plans. He often changes them though... :o) Sometimes I think that the Catholic Italian way of thinking is the better route.
I pray that I die while fast asleep, much later on in my life (like... 82. I would like to die when I am 82 years old, if we get to choose. Which we don't), but what if I am meant to leave sooner? We don't know. We cannot focus on such things or we will become paranoid drones, but the thought passes over my mind occasionally and so I wonder. I wonder if I died tomorrow, how many people would be touched. I wonder if I have done enough in my almost 26 years to impact anyone around me. I hope and pray that I have. That I have done enough. I hope and pray that when I do leave this earth, that if we have ever had a fight, if I have ever been selfish with you (which I'm sure I have, given my track record), if I have ever hurt you, be it intentionally (oh the thought) or unintentionally, that you would please forgive me. I hope and pray that you can remember the good about me, and not the bad. I hope and pray you are able to see the good through the bad, because sometimes I am unable and wonder, at those moments, if there is any good at all. I am learning to believe that I am an ok person. I hope you believe this too. I am sorry for any grief, for any heart ache, for any pain that our friendship has brought upon you, because of me. This was never my intent. I hope and pray that our friendship, our relationship, the love that we share, has brought some joy to your life, to your heart. I hope and pray that I have been able to make you laugh, make you think about things in a different way, but most importantly, helped you to see God.
If anything should happen, be it a pre-G20 bomb warning, be it a plane crash, whatever it is. If I die before being able to talk to you again... I thank each and every one of you for being a part of my life. You have all touched me in some way, shape or form. My life has been molded by you, my friends, my acquaintances, my relationships. You have all helped me to become a better person. Thank you for that.
If God decides to take me home before I am an old woman, you may be upset. But I do not want this. I want yo to celebrate my life. I want you to remember the passion and drive that got me through every day. I want you to remember that, above all, whenever He calls me home, I know and believe that this was my time. God's will is great. His desires are perfect. His timing is impeccable. And He does not make mistakes.
I love you all.
Many blessings :o)
ci vediamo!
Deena
(p.s. Mom gets Java, Jeff gets my iPhone and computer and keyboard and Sheena gets her first choice of my c.d.'s and movies. But Mel Harder gets all of my opera books/c.ds/dvds :o)
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sometimes I feel like the fat kid in gym class...
and I WAS the fat kid in gym class that never got chosen... so I know what I'm talking about!
As a 'baby dramatic soprano' (as my friend and I call me), or a spinto at this point, if you prefer, I often feel like the 'fat kid in gym class'. While all of your other friends are getting chosen and picked, you have to sit back and wait... wait for someone to call on you... as a baby dramatic, this can take years and you feel like you are falling behind the crowd. Even though, in reality, you are the one with the voice that will fill the Met Opera... when all of your other friends get summer gigs and have paying roles in choruses, etc, this truth seems to evade your mind...
I cannot even begin to tell you the amount of blessings that God has thrown onto me in the past month. And when I say thrown, I mean thrown. It has not been an easy journey. There has been much stress and worry... and then I finally hear God, though He's been telling me this all along... don't worry. I have this. I finally started to put my faith and trust in God... something that is difficult for me, as with everyone, to do. And yet... the outcome has been tremendous. Even now... I have to be out of my place by July 1st. A friend recently asked me to live with her and I have said yes. We are hoping and praying to get a spot in her building and are going to wait it out until a spot becomes available. We thought we had a place there on Saturday but 2 hours before we were going to see it, the woman called to tell us it had been taken. Talk about sudden stress. Ok Lord... I'm going to be homeless for the month of July at least... now what do I do? Sunday, I come home from church. Feeling a little less stressed out, trusting Him. I had prayed that morning "You have brought me through so much, why would I not trust You with my life now?" All this past year, I have been auditioning for summer programs. But no one has taken me. I knew that I had been wait listed for the one program in Italy that I had auditioned for, but I had written it off. Only 6 singers are chosen. Why in the world would I get in? I'm a baby dramatic. Like I said, no one wants to work with me yet. My audition tape was not great. I have grown in leaps and bounds since I sent it. Why would they want me? All along I have kept telling myself 'I just need one person to believe in me... that's the start of it... one person to give me a chance'. Sunday afternoon, I received my chance. I opened my e-mail and to my shock and amazement, it read "Congratulations! Someone has dropped out and you were the next in line! Welcome to the Casalmaggiore International Summer Festival In Italy!" and i'm like.... ummm... i'm sorry!?
The whole time I had been thinking... God, where do I live for the month of July? His answer: Italy. Surprise! Suddenly, friends started stepping up to bat. My dear friend and his sister are allowing me and my cat to live with them the few days that I will be here in July, and she has even offered me her room and she will make alternate arrangements. Java is free to stay there while I am gone. And Lord willing my new roommate and I will have a place for August. Tonight at my other good friends house, her lovely mom tells me that I can store all of my stuff in their garage and basement, free of charge for the month of July. No problems, and they will even help me move it all. WHAT!? God just keeps taking care of me... The summer program is amazing and all of these people are coming out of the wood works to just continually bless me...
I know that when you trust and have faith, the journey isn't always going to be easy. But take it from me... if you can learn to trust in God and have faith throughout the difficult times, to keep your eyes on Him and praise Him in the midst... the troubles just don't seem that bad anymore. I know I will falter in this. I realize this won't always seem so easy. Even throughout this, it hasn't been an easy road and I have faltered... but I've kept going, I've kept choosing to trust, which honestly, is all that I can do. And like always, He did not do what I thought He would. But He blessed me in even greater ways. I am no longer the fat kid in gym class. I have my start. What a fantastic start it will be :o) Thank You Lord!
Blessings and love
Deena
As a 'baby dramatic soprano' (as my friend and I call me), or a spinto at this point, if you prefer, I often feel like the 'fat kid in gym class'. While all of your other friends are getting chosen and picked, you have to sit back and wait... wait for someone to call on you... as a baby dramatic, this can take years and you feel like you are falling behind the crowd. Even though, in reality, you are the one with the voice that will fill the Met Opera... when all of your other friends get summer gigs and have paying roles in choruses, etc, this truth seems to evade your mind...
I cannot even begin to tell you the amount of blessings that God has thrown onto me in the past month. And when I say thrown, I mean thrown. It has not been an easy journey. There has been much stress and worry... and then I finally hear God, though He's been telling me this all along... don't worry. I have this. I finally started to put my faith and trust in God... something that is difficult for me, as with everyone, to do. And yet... the outcome has been tremendous. Even now... I have to be out of my place by July 1st. A friend recently asked me to live with her and I have said yes. We are hoping and praying to get a spot in her building and are going to wait it out until a spot becomes available. We thought we had a place there on Saturday but 2 hours before we were going to see it, the woman called to tell us it had been taken. Talk about sudden stress. Ok Lord... I'm going to be homeless for the month of July at least... now what do I do? Sunday, I come home from church. Feeling a little less stressed out, trusting Him. I had prayed that morning "You have brought me through so much, why would I not trust You with my life now?" All this past year, I have been auditioning for summer programs. But no one has taken me. I knew that I had been wait listed for the one program in Italy that I had auditioned for, but I had written it off. Only 6 singers are chosen. Why in the world would I get in? I'm a baby dramatic. Like I said, no one wants to work with me yet. My audition tape was not great. I have grown in leaps and bounds since I sent it. Why would they want me? All along I have kept telling myself 'I just need one person to believe in me... that's the start of it... one person to give me a chance'. Sunday afternoon, I received my chance. I opened my e-mail and to my shock and amazement, it read "Congratulations! Someone has dropped out and you were the next in line! Welcome to the Casalmaggiore International Summer Festival In Italy!" and i'm like.... ummm... i'm sorry!?
The whole time I had been thinking... God, where do I live for the month of July? His answer: Italy. Surprise! Suddenly, friends started stepping up to bat. My dear friend and his sister are allowing me and my cat to live with them the few days that I will be here in July, and she has even offered me her room and she will make alternate arrangements. Java is free to stay there while I am gone. And Lord willing my new roommate and I will have a place for August. Tonight at my other good friends house, her lovely mom tells me that I can store all of my stuff in their garage and basement, free of charge for the month of July. No problems, and they will even help me move it all. WHAT!? God just keeps taking care of me... The summer program is amazing and all of these people are coming out of the wood works to just continually bless me...
I know that when you trust and have faith, the journey isn't always going to be easy. But take it from me... if you can learn to trust in God and have faith throughout the difficult times, to keep your eyes on Him and praise Him in the midst... the troubles just don't seem that bad anymore. I know I will falter in this. I realize this won't always seem so easy. Even throughout this, it hasn't been an easy road and I have faltered... but I've kept going, I've kept choosing to trust, which honestly, is all that I can do. And like always, He did not do what I thought He would. But He blessed me in even greater ways. I am no longer the fat kid in gym class. I have my start. What a fantastic start it will be :o) Thank You Lord!
Blessings and love
Deena
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Dreams
Sometimes I do not want to write. But I will be laying in bed and this need washes over me, and I have to wake up my computer and let my hands find the keys that they are meant to. I cannot explain it. I cannot force it. It just simply happens.
Lately I have not wanted to write. I have fought the feeling, the need, the desire. I do not want to share my thoughts with the world. Because the world does not need to know what I am currently thinking. Then I receive a call from a friend, thanking me for sharing my heart. Thanking me for being so honest. And I am reminded why I do this. I do it to get the words outside of me. Once they are no longer in me, they are living. The thoughts are real, they latch on to some obscure truth and become a reality. I cannot stop it. This has to happen. Sometimes, sometimes... sometimes these thoughts touch other people. I write because I am selfish. I write because I am selfless.
I have recently felt a huge need to let go of someone whom I care about very much. I am so in love with this person, that letting go of them has sunk me into the deepest pit of despair that I have been in in six years. And it feels terrible. And oddly freeing. I have never been able to trust God with this person. What a horrible thing for me. I held on. Tightly. For dear life. This person to me is a dream. Some truth out there that I longed to grasp, to hold on to, to never let go of. A dream that I passionately desired (and still do desire). But I had to let go... because it was not right. Holding onto him was not right. It was not Godly. This kills me.
I do not know if I will end up with this person. Though, until two weeks ago, this was one of two truths that I believed with all of my heart. I do not know if we will end up being one of those couples that Gabriel García Márquez or Jane Austen wrote about in Love In The Time of Cholera or Persuasion. I do not know that we have a happy ending. This terrifies me. I hope and pray with all my heart that we end up together in the end. That we get our happy ending. This is what I long for, what I desire.
Circumstances, life, keeps us apart. Maybe it is for the best. Our futures do not line up. In the slightest.
As I was thinking about this tonight, something odd and wonderful hit me. As I've said, I have been sure of two things for the past few years. One was that I was supposed to be with this man. The other was that I am supposed to be an opera singer. Yet this sometimes did waver.
When I was younger and going off to college, I had two dreams. I was unsure of which to entertain. One was to become involved in music in some capacity and the other was to become a missionary to Africa. I have a deep heart for that continent. Oddly enough, God has lead this man to be a missionary. I have wondered, especially as of late, if I ended up making the wrong choice. Maybe I didn't quite hear God right? Maybe I misunderstood?
This man's mother and I keep in contact. As I questioned myself and opened up to her lately, she was harsh enough and kind enough to tell me the truth about becoming a missionary. After learning the things that one has to go through in order to even get to the mission field, I realized with a broken heart, that this is something that I would never even be able to do. Due to my many health issues and weird food allergies, there is no possible way that I would even pass the tests to be eligible to go. Even if I gave up the one dream for the other, I would not be able to join him on the field. This realization has destroyed me.
Yet tonight I realized something else. For a long time, I wanted to play the piano. This was my passion. Then I was diagnosed with carpel tunnel and tendonitis... making it pretty impossible to make this a career. This is how I started singing more seriously. I have always said that singing chose me, I did not choose it. But I have also always wondered if it was the right decision... now that I have learned about the difficulty of being able to become a missionary to foreign countries, I have realized that singing is the right thing. It is where I am supposed to minister. This is both frightening and enlightening.
In letting go of one dream, I find myself easier able to embrace the other.
I am still heart broken. Still in the deepest pit of depression that I have been in in years. Yet I know it will get better... my stash of pain killers is safely hidden in my roommates room. I have my eyes re-focused on God. Together, we will get through this. Though the tears keep falling... one day they will stop. One day I will understand why this all has happened. I will talk to this man again and he will give me answers to many currently unanswered questions. We will remain friends. I will always love him. Maybe one day... when we are old and gray... we will find each other again.
One can only dream :o)
Lately I have not wanted to write. I have fought the feeling, the need, the desire. I do not want to share my thoughts with the world. Because the world does not need to know what I am currently thinking. Then I receive a call from a friend, thanking me for sharing my heart. Thanking me for being so honest. And I am reminded why I do this. I do it to get the words outside of me. Once they are no longer in me, they are living. The thoughts are real, they latch on to some obscure truth and become a reality. I cannot stop it. This has to happen. Sometimes, sometimes... sometimes these thoughts touch other people. I write because I am selfish. I write because I am selfless.
I have recently felt a huge need to let go of someone whom I care about very much. I am so in love with this person, that letting go of them has sunk me into the deepest pit of despair that I have been in in six years. And it feels terrible. And oddly freeing. I have never been able to trust God with this person. What a horrible thing for me. I held on. Tightly. For dear life. This person to me is a dream. Some truth out there that I longed to grasp, to hold on to, to never let go of. A dream that I passionately desired (and still do desire). But I had to let go... because it was not right. Holding onto him was not right. It was not Godly. This kills me.
I do not know if I will end up with this person. Though, until two weeks ago, this was one of two truths that I believed with all of my heart. I do not know if we will end up being one of those couples that Gabriel García Márquez or Jane Austen wrote about in Love In The Time of Cholera or Persuasion. I do not know that we have a happy ending. This terrifies me. I hope and pray with all my heart that we end up together in the end. That we get our happy ending. This is what I long for, what I desire.
Circumstances, life, keeps us apart. Maybe it is for the best. Our futures do not line up. In the slightest.
As I was thinking about this tonight, something odd and wonderful hit me. As I've said, I have been sure of two things for the past few years. One was that I was supposed to be with this man. The other was that I am supposed to be an opera singer. Yet this sometimes did waver.
When I was younger and going off to college, I had two dreams. I was unsure of which to entertain. One was to become involved in music in some capacity and the other was to become a missionary to Africa. I have a deep heart for that continent. Oddly enough, God has lead this man to be a missionary. I have wondered, especially as of late, if I ended up making the wrong choice. Maybe I didn't quite hear God right? Maybe I misunderstood?
This man's mother and I keep in contact. As I questioned myself and opened up to her lately, she was harsh enough and kind enough to tell me the truth about becoming a missionary. After learning the things that one has to go through in order to even get to the mission field, I realized with a broken heart, that this is something that I would never even be able to do. Due to my many health issues and weird food allergies, there is no possible way that I would even pass the tests to be eligible to go. Even if I gave up the one dream for the other, I would not be able to join him on the field. This realization has destroyed me.
Yet tonight I realized something else. For a long time, I wanted to play the piano. This was my passion. Then I was diagnosed with carpel tunnel and tendonitis... making it pretty impossible to make this a career. This is how I started singing more seriously. I have always said that singing chose me, I did not choose it. But I have also always wondered if it was the right decision... now that I have learned about the difficulty of being able to become a missionary to foreign countries, I have realized that singing is the right thing. It is where I am supposed to minister. This is both frightening and enlightening.
In letting go of one dream, I find myself easier able to embrace the other.
I am still heart broken. Still in the deepest pit of depression that I have been in in years. Yet I know it will get better... my stash of pain killers is safely hidden in my roommates room. I have my eyes re-focused on God. Together, we will get through this. Though the tears keep falling... one day they will stop. One day I will understand why this all has happened. I will talk to this man again and he will give me answers to many currently unanswered questions. We will remain friends. I will always love him. Maybe one day... when we are old and gray... we will find each other again.
One can only dream :o)
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Ants
When I was younger, I used to have these moments of terror. I would go out into the backyard, where, under my brothers bedroom window was a flower bed where my Mom predictably always grew the same type of flowers every summer, while also tending to the 2 bushes that hibernated during the winter. This flower bed, however, was always infested with ants in the one corner. For some reason, they just loved it there and no matter what my Mom would do, they always found their way back to that one corner. Their home. During my reigns of terror, I would stomp on the ants, killing as many as possible, feeling completely in control. As soon as the massacre was over, I would immediately be flooded with a feeling of guilt as I watched the other ants swarm around their brothers and sisters, dragging their smushed up bodies back to the corner. I felt terrible. What had I done? My moments or terror did not last very long. Eventually my wonderfully fine tuned conscience won over and I would step over as many ants as possible, not wanting to kill any more of them. Hoping that by sparing these ones, I would somehow be freed from the guilt of killing so many.
To this day, if I see a spider or a fly, I have a difficult time killing them and will only do it in extreme circumstances (These extreme circumstances being things such as: a fear of the spider crawling into my mouth as I sleep, or a fly not leaving me alone for an hour... mosquitoes, poor souls, are exempt from this however, and will always get squashed. It is a sad truth. I have no patience for them). As I finished reading the beautiful novel, The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, tonight, a thought washed over me. Were my moments of terror as a pre-teen brought on by the need to feel in control? To feel important? In these poor ants lives, I was a giant monster and in these moments, I was extremely important and in control. I do not think that I have control issues necessarily, but I do like to have a handle of things and become a little agitated when I do not know what is going on (who am I kidding? Control issues abound in my life).
This must be why I am thrown out of sorts when something happens that is beyond my control, but affects me deeply. Which is what has been going on as of late. Through a series of events (or non-events really...), I have come to the heartbreaking conclusion that the man that is always at the back of my mind when another guy asks me out, the man whom I always want to tell exciting things to when they happen, the man that I one day wanted to walk down a long aisle towards... when this man seemingly forgot that I existed... I realized that this is truly not the man for me. This realization was simultaneously terrifying and heart breaking. I was not in control of this situation. It bothered me. This is one of the main things that bothers me about relationships. I realize that it is not possible for one person to be in control, but I think it is important to share control. This was not happening in this instance. He had all of the control, held all of the cards. It was not right.
Though I am heartbroken and still feeling completely guilty about those ants, I realize that he is not the one for me. At least not in this moment, and may not be for years to come. Because when you care about someone, you want to talk to them. You want to start conversation with them. You want to see them. You want to share important and exciting things that are happening in your life with them. This was not happening on his end, yet it was happening on my end in abundance. Maybe I scared him away. Sometimes I think that maybe he just got caught up in school... But I of all people understand getting caught up in school. And I KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that you can make time for important people.
I guess I was not important. Once again I was not good enough. Once again love glanced in my direction, then looked the other way. Once again, I lost control.
But I have a friend who says that I will be okay. That, and the promises and hope of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ get me through. I will be okay. Maybe not today, definitely not tomorrow, but someday. One day. In time.
Blessings and love
Deena
To this day, if I see a spider or a fly, I have a difficult time killing them and will only do it in extreme circumstances (These extreme circumstances being things such as: a fear of the spider crawling into my mouth as I sleep, or a fly not leaving me alone for an hour... mosquitoes, poor souls, are exempt from this however, and will always get squashed. It is a sad truth. I have no patience for them). As I finished reading the beautiful novel, The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, tonight, a thought washed over me. Were my moments of terror as a pre-teen brought on by the need to feel in control? To feel important? In these poor ants lives, I was a giant monster and in these moments, I was extremely important and in control. I do not think that I have control issues necessarily, but I do like to have a handle of things and become a little agitated when I do not know what is going on (who am I kidding? Control issues abound in my life).
This must be why I am thrown out of sorts when something happens that is beyond my control, but affects me deeply. Which is what has been going on as of late. Through a series of events (or non-events really...), I have come to the heartbreaking conclusion that the man that is always at the back of my mind when another guy asks me out, the man whom I always want to tell exciting things to when they happen, the man that I one day wanted to walk down a long aisle towards... when this man seemingly forgot that I existed... I realized that this is truly not the man for me. This realization was simultaneously terrifying and heart breaking. I was not in control of this situation. It bothered me. This is one of the main things that bothers me about relationships. I realize that it is not possible for one person to be in control, but I think it is important to share control. This was not happening in this instance. He had all of the control, held all of the cards. It was not right.
Though I am heartbroken and still feeling completely guilty about those ants, I realize that he is not the one for me. At least not in this moment, and may not be for years to come. Because when you care about someone, you want to talk to them. You want to start conversation with them. You want to see them. You want to share important and exciting things that are happening in your life with them. This was not happening on his end, yet it was happening on my end in abundance. Maybe I scared him away. Sometimes I think that maybe he just got caught up in school... But I of all people understand getting caught up in school. And I KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that you can make time for important people.
I guess I was not important. Once again I was not good enough. Once again love glanced in my direction, then looked the other way. Once again, I lost control.
But I have a friend who says that I will be okay. That, and the promises and hope of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ get me through. I will be okay. Maybe not today, definitely not tomorrow, but someday. One day. In time.
Blessings and love
Deena
Sunday, February 21, 2010
first love
I don't think that you ever forget your first love. I met mine when I was 16, but didn't start a relationship until a few years later. It was long distance for 2 years and though we never actually saw each other during that time (but have since), we were extremely emotionally involved. He would call multiple times a day (much to the chagrin of his family because of the expensive phone bills. Calling over seas... not cheap). But the sweetest thing I remember about this time is the letters. We used to write each other 30 to 50 page letters. We couldn't stop. We would write down everything that happened in our day, not wanting the other person to miss out on anything. As I was working a secretary job at the time (and wasn't really busy at all), the letters got longer and longer... soon gifts were involved and it was such a wonderful time in my life. I actually used to scent my letters with my perfume (gag, I know. Pathetic) and one guy actually walked into his room once, picked up the letter, smelled it, put it down and walked out. haha! I never will forget that. He wrote me a poem to tell me that he loved me and kept calling nervously to see if I had received that one special letter yet. I carried that letter around with me for days, showing it to anyone and everyone who would pay attention. Everything felt so happy... so right.
Now, this person and I have obviously ended it. He is actually the only ex that I keep in touch with and he is engaged to be married within a few short months. I know that he and his new wife are going to be very happy together and are much more better suited for each other. He and I have both grown and changed and I know that we could never work in a relationship now and I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with him now anyway. I don't miss him in a romantic way, but I do miss this time in my life... who we were back then, who we were together.
A good friend took me for lunch and a movie today. He let me pick the movie and well... honestly there wasn't much that I wanted to see so I was mean to him and chose Dear John (he'll deny it, but he wanted to see it too. I promise). It is a movie based on a novel by Nicholas Sparks and we all know what that means: someone is going to die at the end. I was ready for a sad ending and was not disappointed. But I had forgotten something going into this movie... it is about a young couple, in love obviously, and the guy is in the army. He gets sent to Afghanistan.
Without realizing what was happening, I was living the relationship of my past on screen. Obviously there were major differences. But the letters... the truth... the army... the loneliness of both of them away from each other... it felt too real. I can remember the day that I found out that my ex had joined the army. I can also remember the day that he told me that he was going to fight in Iraq and then Afghanistan. I was living in a dorm room at the time. I ran to find my roommate and fell in a heap at her feet, in tears whimpering and asking 'not everyone who goes to Iraq dies, right? Tell me they don't all die!' The army is what ultimately did us in. He actually met someone who was in a similar field, we eventually drifted... There were tears on my side for many months. But we remained friends and when my family traveled across the ocean to visit his, it wasn't awkward. We had a nice catch up on the pier outside his house, looking up at the stars that are so different from the ones that I know. I won't forget that night. But it had been long over before then. At that point, it was two good friends catching up. And that was that.
After watching this movie, a lot of emotions rushed back in and overtook me. And I realize that I am not over this. It is not that I'm not over him: I am. But he was my first love. That's something that I will keep with me forever. Not to blame any one person for the dysfunctional way that I am in relationships, but I always thought that my problems stemmed from someone else... a relationship that ended only a few years ago. But as I look further back, I can see that there is much more pain there from this relationship as well. It wasn't his fault. Our ending was mostly mutual. I understood. He understood. It was right. Case closed. But I have baggage. Baggage that I do not want to revisit. Baggage that I am afraid to open, because I am afraid that the truth of what I find hiding in the folds is going to overpower me. I don't know that I am strong enough for that right now.
It seems impossible to put into words what I am feeling right now... But I do know this. I know that I am happy for him and his bride. They make an incredible couple and I wish them all the best. I also know that I have to be strong and root through the rubble to find the truth to this mixed up emotion that is presently overtaking me. Because right now... it just does not make sense.
Blessings and love
Deena
Now, this person and I have obviously ended it. He is actually the only ex that I keep in touch with and he is engaged to be married within a few short months. I know that he and his new wife are going to be very happy together and are much more better suited for each other. He and I have both grown and changed and I know that we could never work in a relationship now and I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with him now anyway. I don't miss him in a romantic way, but I do miss this time in my life... who we were back then, who we were together.
A good friend took me for lunch and a movie today. He let me pick the movie and well... honestly there wasn't much that I wanted to see so I was mean to him and chose Dear John (he'll deny it, but he wanted to see it too. I promise). It is a movie based on a novel by Nicholas Sparks and we all know what that means: someone is going to die at the end. I was ready for a sad ending and was not disappointed. But I had forgotten something going into this movie... it is about a young couple, in love obviously, and the guy is in the army. He gets sent to Afghanistan.
Without realizing what was happening, I was living the relationship of my past on screen. Obviously there were major differences. But the letters... the truth... the army... the loneliness of both of them away from each other... it felt too real. I can remember the day that I found out that my ex had joined the army. I can also remember the day that he told me that he was going to fight in Iraq and then Afghanistan. I was living in a dorm room at the time. I ran to find my roommate and fell in a heap at her feet, in tears whimpering and asking 'not everyone who goes to Iraq dies, right? Tell me they don't all die!' The army is what ultimately did us in. He actually met someone who was in a similar field, we eventually drifted... There were tears on my side for many months. But we remained friends and when my family traveled across the ocean to visit his, it wasn't awkward. We had a nice catch up on the pier outside his house, looking up at the stars that are so different from the ones that I know. I won't forget that night. But it had been long over before then. At that point, it was two good friends catching up. And that was that.
After watching this movie, a lot of emotions rushed back in and overtook me. And I realize that I am not over this. It is not that I'm not over him: I am. But he was my first love. That's something that I will keep with me forever. Not to blame any one person for the dysfunctional way that I am in relationships, but I always thought that my problems stemmed from someone else... a relationship that ended only a few years ago. But as I look further back, I can see that there is much more pain there from this relationship as well. It wasn't his fault. Our ending was mostly mutual. I understood. He understood. It was right. Case closed. But I have baggage. Baggage that I do not want to revisit. Baggage that I am afraid to open, because I am afraid that the truth of what I find hiding in the folds is going to overpower me. I don't know that I am strong enough for that right now.
It seems impossible to put into words what I am feeling right now... But I do know this. I know that I am happy for him and his bride. They make an incredible couple and I wish them all the best. I also know that I have to be strong and root through the rubble to find the truth to this mixed up emotion that is presently overtaking me. Because right now... it just does not make sense.
Blessings and love
Deena
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