I am in a good position this week.
I am fresh from a long "vacation" with people who are more family to me than my parents are or will ever be willing to be. Speaking of which, it is more of an "emotional security high", where I was loved and cherished. I feel like I can climb mountains and accomplish my dreams.
In this feel-good-rush of things, I am making big plans and deciding on some things in life.
I need to work on my math. I hated it while in school and while I did reasonably well, I never wanted to go beyond and excel. My goal for the rest of this year is to go back through all the math books Mrs. G has and tutor myself. I want to take my SAT's at least by spring of 2012.
I know that SAT's aren't that important anymore; and for someone who is older going straight into college would save time. However, with SAT scores I will have more of a basis for intelligence than a GED. The review and stuff will also help with any college entrance exam if I am ready to take classes
I want you readers to keep me accountable and keep me up on this one.
I really, really detest numbers and I know I am going to have to work really hard at keeping up this level of energy, optimism, and purpose.
At work, M. keeps pushing me to do research into other jobs that she thinks I would be good at. She tells me repeatedly that I am young and now is the time to move up the ladder, not get stuck in a minimum wage job and turn out like her. Other people are also telling me this. One customer who is really nice told me a story about how he got work at a car factory; assembly line work. He told me how the older men there encouraged him to get out into the world and not settle. They told him that if he didnt he would end up like them; working there all their lives. When they finally got to retire, they didnt have much life left to enjoy.
He told me how he used his money to travel and see the world. He now runs his own fitness center.
I have so much fear and I know I can get discouraged to the point that I refuse all manner of help and goal setting. Today I wrote out in big letters "I CAN DO THIS!!!" on top of a paper. I then listed out my goals for the rest of 2011 and a couple things each for spring, summer, and fall of 2012.
But first things first.
Today I am going to go out and spend a couple bucks on a big notebook.
Algebra; here I come.
May 30, 2011
May 10, 2011
Within a Dream
Ive always struggled with how to qualify (or excuse) dreams.
Lately Ive had one really bad one and a couple lesser-but-still-terrifying ones.
Am I responsible?
Why do I feel responsible?
Why can I excuse some and not others?
Why do I forget some and not others?
What about the ones that remain for weeks, or even years?
What about recurring ones?
What about dream interpretation?
What about symbolism?
A lot of questions and few answers that fully put the questions to rest for me.
But this morning, around 5:30 when I woke up from a dream about work and people buying salads (see, a dream that I can excuse and push off); I had a dream/memory about a circumstance that REALLY happened to me. It was like re-living it, and it happens to me a lot. Maybe thats why I have such a good memory.
Anyway, it was a time when the whole family was at a Square Dance with all the families in the area. They happen every third month in the fall, winter, and spring; and are one of the ways that the young people get into the competition for the Farm Show. I got into a square with my father (which I normally try to avoid) and he was across from me. The teacher was teaching "Up to the Middle and Back" in which couples step forward two steps and ackowledge thier opposite couple and step back.
When doing this call, couples can simply nod, can bow, can clap across, or can do a variety of combinations of hand-movements. I (for some forgotten reason) had not been clapping that night. I have this thing about people touching me at times and I dont like it.
The previous square I had been in had merely acknowledged and stepped back. I tried to do the same in this square, but my father wanted very much to clap. I did not, and I did not put up my hands to clap. About the second time the call was called, he realized I was not just forgetting and was not doing what he wanted, so he told me I had to clap. I told him that I hadnt in the other square, and I didnt want to, and that it wasnt required. He insisted on it, so he began trying to 'clap' my arm. I tilted my shoulder back so that he could not touch me, so he stepped forward another step (out of the dance, as we were backing up, messing others up) and hit my shoulder very hard. I realized that this would continue, so I stopped turing my shoulder away and he hit my shoulder another couple times until the dance was over (somewhat softer each time because he slowly realized that I wasnt pulling away). Everyone in the square saw this and must have known. No one said anything, and obviously they couldnt have known how hard he was hitting me any of those times.
I decided I didnt want to have to think about this, so I got up and stayed awake until about 8am when I felt safe after talking with someone on the phone. I slept another 4 hours and woke up feeling better.
I told Mrs. G about this later and she said it was just a bad dream. She misunderstood the break from salads and thought I was describing a dream. When I told her it was real and it truly happened she nearly freaked on me. She asked who else was in the square who would remember and I only know of one person, who I am not in contact with any more. I dont know if he would remember, but I think he was my corner, and would have seen everything.
I still dont like people touching me, and touching my shoulder especially makes me go all PTSD.
I had an episode at work where someone was talking to me and kindly laid a hand on my shoulder. I freaked and ordered them to never touch me. The entire rest of the morning I battled a boiling rage towards them, when I had never had cause to dislike them before. By the end of my work-shift, I could block it out and later that week I couldnt remember what they did. I just remember they did something.
In fact, it was only just as I was writing this that the memory came back.....
Lately Ive had one really bad one and a couple lesser-but-still-terrifying ones.
Am I responsible?
Why do I feel responsible?
Why can I excuse some and not others?
Why do I forget some and not others?
What about the ones that remain for weeks, or even years?
What about recurring ones?
What about dream interpretation?
What about symbolism?
A lot of questions and few answers that fully put the questions to rest for me.
But this morning, around 5:30 when I woke up from a dream about work and people buying salads (see, a dream that I can excuse and push off); I had a dream/memory about a circumstance that REALLY happened to me. It was like re-living it, and it happens to me a lot. Maybe thats why I have such a good memory.
Anyway, it was a time when the whole family was at a Square Dance with all the families in the area. They happen every third month in the fall, winter, and spring; and are one of the ways that the young people get into the competition for the Farm Show. I got into a square with my father (which I normally try to avoid) and he was across from me. The teacher was teaching "Up to the Middle and Back" in which couples step forward two steps and ackowledge thier opposite couple and step back.
When doing this call, couples can simply nod, can bow, can clap across, or can do a variety of combinations of hand-movements. I (for some forgotten reason) had not been clapping that night. I have this thing about people touching me at times and I dont like it.
The previous square I had been in had merely acknowledged and stepped back. I tried to do the same in this square, but my father wanted very much to clap. I did not, and I did not put up my hands to clap. About the second time the call was called, he realized I was not just forgetting and was not doing what he wanted, so he told me I had to clap. I told him that I hadnt in the other square, and I didnt want to, and that it wasnt required. He insisted on it, so he began trying to 'clap' my arm. I tilted my shoulder back so that he could not touch me, so he stepped forward another step (out of the dance, as we were backing up, messing others up) and hit my shoulder very hard. I realized that this would continue, so I stopped turing my shoulder away and he hit my shoulder another couple times until the dance was over (somewhat softer each time because he slowly realized that I wasnt pulling away). Everyone in the square saw this and must have known. No one said anything, and obviously they couldnt have known how hard he was hitting me any of those times.
I decided I didnt want to have to think about this, so I got up and stayed awake until about 8am when I felt safe after talking with someone on the phone. I slept another 4 hours and woke up feeling better.
I told Mrs. G about this later and she said it was just a bad dream. She misunderstood the break from salads and thought I was describing a dream. When I told her it was real and it truly happened she nearly freaked on me. She asked who else was in the square who would remember and I only know of one person, who I am not in contact with any more. I dont know if he would remember, but I think he was my corner, and would have seen everything.
I still dont like people touching me, and touching my shoulder especially makes me go all PTSD.
I had an episode at work where someone was talking to me and kindly laid a hand on my shoulder. I freaked and ordered them to never touch me. The entire rest of the morning I battled a boiling rage towards them, when I had never had cause to dislike them before. By the end of my work-shift, I could block it out and later that week I couldnt remember what they did. I just remember they did something.
In fact, it was only just as I was writing this that the memory came back.....
May 6, 2011
Broken
I feel so broken right now.
I woke up today with a song and a Bible verse floating around in my head. The song is a 'meh' song by a rather old (80's) CCM singer who is popular in the third-world country where I grew up in. I had to laugh when I looked up the song on youtube, all the videos were karaoke dubs from that nation.
Anyway, the verse was: "God is near to the broken hearted."
I tried looking for it, and after a couple unsuccessful tries, I found it in Psalm 34:18.
I read the verse and sighed, because God was still out to get me to return home to my parents and be a good daughter.
Then I got mad. I had given God a rest for a while. Not 'gone to church', not read Daddy's NKJV version, not even allowed myself to read the tracts people keep handing me at work. I was hoping space and distance would heal something and let me be a 'good' christian like I was raised to be. *insert meek and quiet smile.
But after a break of about ten minutes I looked over a different version of it because sometimes it helps me take the verse out of preconditioned-reading-mode; which is what I needed.
I suddenly realized that no one else would get my first reaction out of the verse. Then I began picking myself apart like I always do trying to figure out why I thought that in the first place, and how to change, and berating myself for still thinking the way I used to think. Gah.
And while picking apart myself; this is what I heard:
My bible-reader is broken and my brain is broken and I cant do this.
I woke up today with a song and a Bible verse floating around in my head. The song is a 'meh' song by a rather old (80's) CCM singer who is popular in the third-world country where I grew up in. I had to laugh when I looked up the song on youtube, all the videos were karaoke dubs from that nation.
Anyway, the verse was: "God is near to the broken hearted."
I tried looking for it, and after a couple unsuccessful tries, I found it in Psalm 34:18.
I read the verse and sighed, because God was still out to get me to return home to my parents and be a good daughter.
Then I got mad. I had given God a rest for a while. Not 'gone to church', not read Daddy's NKJV version, not even allowed myself to read the tracts people keep handing me at work. I was hoping space and distance would heal something and let me be a 'good' christian like I was raised to be. *insert meek and quiet smile.
But after a break of about ten minutes I looked over a different version of it because sometimes it helps me take the verse out of preconditioned-reading-mode; which is what I needed.
I suddenly realized that no one else would get my first reaction out of the verse. Then I began picking myself apart like I always do trying to figure out why I thought that in the first place, and how to change, and berating myself for still thinking the way I used to think. Gah.
And while picking apart myself; this is what I heard:
The first verse is all hellfire and damnation. Just look at it. If a sermon is preached about it where will the bulk of the message lay: the second part. "Such as have a contrite heart." Obviously, the first thing that sticks out is the huge condition. 'Only the certain honest/blessed/perfect individuals who REALLY have a contrite heart.' Only those who God has searched and interrogated and picked apart to find no wrong motives in. Only such as those. Like: only those with the heart of a child. Only the REALLY contrite.And that is when I started crying and decided to not read the Bible anymore for another long while.
And then there is the 'contrite.' Sheesh, only a KJV-er would understand that. Contrite is like what they did to enemies in Bible times. Made them walk under a small doorway in front of the conquering general. They would have to get down low and possibly on their knees and squeeze through this door (the eye of a needle, anyone?) and humble themselves. And, because God knows your heart, he is not the overbearing general who only looks at the outside obeisance. He sees your HEART too, and your HEART is wicked and before you dare ask Him to be there for you, or be near to your sadness and weakness? You better have it cleaned out of all the bad things and made truly pure and honest before you do such a thing.
In short: You, missy, are so, so, SO far from the qualifier on this verse and SO far from being able to accomplish it that there is no way God could (even if he wanted to, because we all know that God cant abide sin and evil) come near you or even pay attention to your brokenness. Nu-uh. Not gonna happen.
My bible-reader is broken and my brain is broken and I cant do this.
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