9-23-00

Well, I told you I had an entry planned. I'll get around to that in just a moment. First off, I want to post another Challenge. I'm now calling it that because of Russell. He was talking via Yahoo Pager with me as I'd just posted that entry, and said something like, "I like your challenge." So, the "name" kinda stuck.

So, this is my Challenge for this entry... Go to Uncle Bob, Monstre and SaintLime. Go through their most recent entries and pick one sentance, line or paragraph that you like most. Email them to me, or post them on the message board to the left there; the link that says "Talk to me". I'll post your comments and plug your diaries.

Also, for any of those who haven't gotten one yet, or haven't bothered to check out my Analyzer... Do so. And, leave messages for me on my Analyzer. It's that link way down there at the bottom, just after my signature. Cmon, cmon, cmon, pretty please?

So, on to the "main" part of this entry.

As I mentioned in the last entry, I was talking with Tasha last night via Yahoo Pager. We had a good conversation and that girl is someone I believe will be an incredible friend. She's tender and kind and a little nervous and happy and sad all rolled into one.

Mainly, mental confusion was the topic. Having multiple choices set out before you and not knowing which choice to make. Not knowing which one would be the best for your future, even tho, like Flatline said a while back, you have a choice between stability and happiness.

I've had those choices. I believe that everyone on this earth has. I also believe that everyone on this earth has had the option of going for what they know will be stable vs. what they think could become stable if given enough time. *shrugs* Anyway... Tasha and I got around to the subject of keeping one's attitude up.... the subject of, basically, how one keeps going even when it seems that there is no reason to.

So, I'll post part of the conversation as it was, then post my "answers". And yes, this is only a small part of our entire... what?.... two and a half hour conversation? *shrugs* Time is a little off for me at the moment.

Tasha: : or should i live my life making myself happy & going for what i want & what i need/think i need, etc? ... eh.. im a big mess of drunken ramble.

burnttiger: *laughs tenderly* Honey, don't worry so much.

Tasha: : i do, though. i worry.

Tasha: : i worry that i take too much, and i dont give enough..

Tasha: : but when i try to give, i end up giving all.. and ending up with nothing.

burnttiger: *chuckles quietly* Oh hot damn. How history does love to repeat itself.

burnttiger: *smiles tenderly*

burnttiger: I know exactly what you mean. I've gone through it. many times.

Tasha: : its hard, though, i know you know..

Tasha: : how do you deal?

Tasha: : how do you decide what the right amount to give is? .. how much of yourself you let go of & offer up to the other person?

Tasha: : and why does it *always* have to be about the other person to me.. *laughs* .. i always mean to get back to caring about me..

burnttiger: *smiles softly* Well, to be honest? I have a different way of looking at life. And, it would take way too long for me to formulate my thoughts into a conversation like this. BUT, what I'll do, is make up a diary entry about it. I'll answer those specific questions in the entry.

This is the part I really want to focus on in this entry... "Tasha: : how do you deal?

Tasha: : how do you decide what the right amount to give is? .. how much of yourself you let go of & offer up to the other person?"

So... How do I deal? I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Seriously. It may seem trite, but that's how I deal. I keep going. And when it just seems to be too much, when it seems that the pressures of day to day life, or the pressures of having to conform to what the world expects of me (or rather, what I think the world expects) I vent. As Tasha did last night, I tell someone. I have about four people online to whom I vent. They are people I trust implicitly. They are people I know will not condemn me for feeling petulant, but will listen without judgement, knowing that "I'll be fine tomorrow".

The second way I deal is by writing. Hell, if you folks haven't read the shit that comes from my pen, then.... take some time some day and check em out. The recent stuff is up at my D. S. Vic Diary. But the older stuff is on the website of many of the Yahoo RPG Chat-ites. Vic's Poetry/stories. There's a hell of a lot of anger, rage, confusion, pain and sorrow in those pieces. But mostly anger and rage. It's the way I vent without hurting anyone.

And, I suppose, the third way I deal, is by going to the beach. I'll take my guitar and go out there, watch the waves, the seagulls... *smiles softly* It's almost impossible to be egotistical (which is where a lot of my feelings of being offended come in) when looking at the ocean. It's intense. That ocean has been coming in and going out for millenia. And it will continue to do so when I'm gone from this physical realm. It's a perspective thing.

Watching the ocean reminds me that no matter what problems are pummelling me at the moment, they will pass. It teaches me patience and how to understand that time truly does cure all wounds.

There are pieces of drift wood that occassionally get beached. However, at one point, they were drifting, aimless, through the ocean, being slapped around by the tides, by boats, by whales and salmon, sturgeon and marlin. There are chunks of volcanic rock which wash up upon the shore sometimes... Volcanic rock worn smooth by centuries of weather exposure.... There are glass floats which wash up on the shore. Glass floats. Half a century old, glass floats. From fishing boats along the Japanese coast line. Here.... in Washington. *smiles softly*

It's a matter of perspective. When I think about these things which look to be so fragile... these glass floats which could be destroyed by one careless drop to the cement, having sustained multiple thousands of miles across the ocean... it teaches me that no matter what problem I'm facing... no matter how huge it might seem to be, and no matter how fragile I feel... I can get through it. If I just hold on a little longer, I can get through it. And someone might someday pick me up, polish me off and place me upon their mantel as a prize. As something they treasure. *smiles softly* It may sound corny, but that's one of the ways I "deal".

However.... and this is the part which might be found to be objectionable by many of my readers... All of the above is absolutely worthless for me, if I don't invite God into my life on a daily basis. I don't mean that to be preachy. I don't like "bible thumpers" as a whole because I don't want anyone telling me how to live my life. They're not me, they can't dictate my actions.

I do, however, have a strong relationship with my God. I believe in and on God, in Christ Jesus my Holy Brother and in the power of the Holy Spirit. I know that there is no way I could possibly be alive if it weren't for God's intervention in my life. It was ten years ago this month that I started slashing my wrists. When I started planning ways in which I was going to end my life. it was this time a decade ago when I felt my entire world falling apart and had no hope whatsoever.

My church didn't help. My parents didn't help. No one did. I isolated and cut myself off from everyone because I was miserable and felt worthless. I spent hours secluded in my room, or walking around like a zombie. I didn't smile. I didn't talk to people. I didn't have a polite bone in my body at that time. I was tough, angry, violent and rebellious. But I had been too well trained from childhood on, not to act out. So, I was violent to myself. mentally, emotionally and physically. Frag me, I still have the scars up and down my arms.

I swore a lot. Didn't talk to people unless I was using swear words. I didn't make friends. I isolated. When I spoke with people. or was friendly, it was with the adults at the school. (Pacific Lutheran University in Tacoma) Hell, I was killing myself inside, but I still showed that gentle and respectful face to teachers and adults. But it was a catch 22. I isolated to save myself from external pain. Cause what I wanted most in my life was to fit in. However, because I was isolated, unfriendly and quite mean at times, people didn't want to accept me. *chuckles softly, a little sadly* Seems we always find a way to get what we want, eh?

So... back to the main point... through all my attempts to end my existance, through all the pain and sorrow, through all the anger and rage, I stopped caring. I stopped feeling. I cut myself off. Literally.

And ya know what? I didn't wake up... I didn't realize what the real problem was until just recently.

There was a series of events which woke me up. They happened in the span of a the last two and a half years.

In January of 98, I was in the wreck. It was horrible. And I felt truly weak. But, the thing I learned from that was this one point.... I could have stopped it. I could have opened my mouth and said one word and the wreck never would have happened. *smiles softly*

Because of my personal apathy, because of my personal isolation, because of my personal desire to not feel anything ever again, I saw a kenworth semi driving at us at 45 miles an hour. My father was driving the truck at 25 miles an hour. And I saw the semi. Dad didn't. If I had said "Stop", Dad would have slammed on the breaks. We might have gotten hit from the rear, lightly, but we would have stopped, and we would not have had the impact with the KenWorth.

From that event, I learned that I alone had personal control over my life. That I had made a choice, whether conscious or subconscious, to die. I didn't say anything. At all.

But, I didn't die.

I believe the only reason I didn't, is because people around the nation were praying for me. I mean that litterally. I've talked about it a little bit. My friends from The Lair found out the next day about the wreck. One of my friends was living in Salem (where the accident took place) and saw it on the news. He hopped online and told everyone in the Lair that I'd been in a wreck. Chris (Local_H_Rules) took the ball from there, coordinating email contact. Our church, from Bellingham, Washington, to Pasedena, California, to Colorado to New York, Chicago, Florida, Houston.... *smiles softly* Church groups, denominations, single people... There were millions upon millions of prayers being said.

I was in a coma for a day and a half. Transfered to Seattle two days after that, and in the hospital up there for another two and a half weeks.

Through the prayers, annointings and blessings poured out over me, there was an almost audible snap as the depression was broken away from me. *smiles softly*

====I'm a little retiscent to be typing this, as I don't want people to be laughing at me, thinking that I'm indulging in wishful thinking and that the only reason I'm alive is because the docs were good and science prevailed..... Science is a great thing and it helps many. But it's not the be-all, end-all.====

There was a real difference. I remember not breathing. I remember being dead. But I don't know if those are accurate memories, because Morphine is an extremely powerful drug. However, I know that I'm still alive now. *smiles softly, chuckling a little* If I'm a ghost, then I'm the fleshiest ghost this world has ever imagined. *smiles again*

So, I realized that I had made a choice to die. By NOT choosing to live. By NOT choosing to stop the wreck before it happened. I was released from the hospital to go back to my folks place, cause I needed 24 hour care and my ex had to work. During the next month (I was told I would not walk for at least three months, and possibly I wouldn't walk again... ever.) I refused to quit. I felt like I'd been given another chance. So, I started writing again. I started reading my Bible again. I started praying to God daily. Sometimes five or six times a day. And I started walking. I forced myself to do so. I hated sitting in bed all day. I felt so fucking weak. So I demanded that I walk. Through the pain, through the helplessness.

THAT taught me that even tho I might think I'm helpless... I'm not. If I can just convince myself to take ONE MORE STEP, I can eventually retrain my muscles. I can eventually retrain my body to work the way I want it to.

So, even tho now, nearly three years later, there's pain in my back, hip, knee and ankle, I can walk. And I'm getting better every day.

*sighs softly*

Um.... I'm thinking about ending this here, because it was a lot longer than I expected it to be. *chuckles* And, I did get side tracked a little. But, I'm going to keep going, cause I really want to get this out.

So, that was the first indication that I was actually coming out of my self-imposed "death" The second step was moving back to the apartment with my now-ex. I didn't want to move back. I didn't want to go back to the depressing, caged lifestyle I had with him. He wasn't physically abusive. And he wasn't consciously mentally/emotionally abusive... but I was emotionally and mentally abused. Dunno if that makes any sense... but it's the only way I can explain it at the moment. So, even tho I didn't want to be married to him anymore... "we" decided that we would "try again".

I was positive, uplifted, happy from February of 98 through the first week of June 98. I'd lost 40 lbs and was well on my way to losing more. I was thrilled with life and I was excersizing every day.

I moved back into the apartment. I was there for two weeks. I gained 35 lbs, regained my depression and sat in my chair in the corner of the dark, messy livingroom, headphones pressed to my ears, pretending I wasn't there as my ex was fucking his girlfriends in the bedroom. Then, when they left, I would go to bed... I would sleep in that.......

*sighs*

I realized that unless he chose ME, I could not live married to him anymore, no matter what my vows had been. So, we had the talk... the hash out. And I made my points and he ignored them and all that shit... I don't need to rehash all that. It's been talked about many times already.....

However, the next day, after I'd poured my heart out, his only comment to me was, "Well, when are you moving out?" That was when I realized he'd made his decision long ago and I was the asshole who had been too wrapped up in my own apathy to say what I wanted.

So, I moved back in with my folks. From that "try again" period, I learned that, again, it was my choice. That I had made the choice to die, again, because I would NOT choose life. When you DON'T make a choice, that is a choice. I know it's confusing, but I don't know how to make it clearer.

Watch the movie Dangerous Minds. Perhaps that will clear it up. I saw that movie again at that time....

Anyway, so I understood that by refusing to choose life... by refusing to SAY what I wanted.... I had chosen death. I had chosen to give up. And when I looked at myself, I mean, really looked at myself, I realized that I didn't want to be a quitter. I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to be sitting in a room of filth, with porno mags and fuck flicks strewn around, trying to ignore the sounds of my ex fucking his whore-of-choice on MY bed. I didn't like that.

*smiles softly*

So, I made a conscious choice. Literally, a choice, to open my eyes and watch what was going on around me. I didn't want to be depressed anymore. I didn't want to die. And I sure as hell didn't want to be married anymore.

I remember one of the key lines in the "talk". I remember looking at Duncan and telling him, point blank... "I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if we will stay married or get divorced. I don't know if I can ever be good enough for you, but I know this.... If you're willing to work with me, I will do everything I can to make this marriage work. I just can't fix me and you and the marriage all at the same time. I'm dying. I can't carry all of it by myself."

*smiles softly*

I learned, from that paragraph... from hearing my own words echoing through my mind, that I had been trying to live my life by myself. I had been trying to keep myself afloat. I can't. I personally can not carry myself. I MUST rely upon God for the strength to keep going. I MUST rely upon God to keep my head above water.

So, how do I deal?

I tell God what's going on in my life. I talk to him, as if I were carrying on a conversation. I talk with God, AND, I listen to what He says to me. When I include God in my life, the pain, trouble, anguish, fear... all of it... goes away.

When I ask God to be my support, instead of having to tread water, I can just relax my muscles and let the life-preserver support me for a while. Then, when I have regained my strength, I can roll over and swim again. And God strengthens my muscles. He strengthens my strokes. He fills me with His power and love and attention.

The lonely nights aren't as impossible. The lonely days aren't as impossible. I don't feel weighed down by despair, anguish and pain because God is there to lift me into His safe embrace.

*lowers her eyes slightly, smiling very softly* I love my God. I am so very, very thankful that God has created me so perfectly. And I am amazed with His glory, power, honesty and majesty. I personally look around me and see the world with wide-eyed awe.

Each person in this life is able to make their own choices. Each person in this life is allowed to choose to follow God's law, their own law, or some other form. More power to ya. If you don't believe in God, that's okay. I won't think less of anyone. I won't think more of anyone. But, I tell you this.... Don't think less, or more, of me because I DO believe in God. Don't think I'm more of a person because I love my God. Don't think I'm less of a person because I don't believe in your choice of God.

I don't know everything about God. I don't even begin to think I know 1% of what God really is. I just know that without Him, I wouldn't be here. Literally. I KNOW this. There have been far too many things that have happened in my life for me to say that God does not exist. There have been far too many miracles and blessings in my life for me to attribute them to anything other than God.

Believe what you will. And let me believe what I will. I won't ask you to change your beliefs. And I won't shove my beliefs down your throat. Please don't challenge my beliefs just to play devil's advocate. I don't appreciate that and I don't respect it. I don't like to argue.

If you don't like what I believe, that's okay. Just don't talk about religion with me. I'm cool with that.

*smiles softly*

I think I'm going to close this now.... I've delved further into my own life than I ever intended to. *chuckles* And, I got so incredibly tangent-ized it's pathetic. *smiles softly* However, I'll continue with the original plan in my next post. So, I'll finish answering Tasha's questions then.

Sorry, Tasha, for the tangents.... But, you've read me before. *chuckles*

Love to you all....