I can't believe it's been so long since I've written in this thing, I was getting in such a great habit. I read back through my original postings and it's crazy to me how I've changed only from a few months ago. Life has happened and things are moving along, and I'm such a completely different person now that those postings just reek of anger, frustration and hostility. It somewhat saddens me, but as the same time shows me where I am now and where I've come from.
I did not get into the Refuge in Vero Beach, FL, which was the in-patient PTSD place I really wanted to go to. At first I was frustrated, but I Googled 'Christian PTSD Counseling places in OKC' and as many times and I've Googled the same thing, I've never gotten anything, and now I've found this great place to start doing counseling at. I'm very excited because it sounds amazing, it's close to my house, and I get to stay right here where my family is. I have a great job and an amazing support system and life is going good. I'm going to Victory with my roommate, Lora, and Mark and Jennifer Crowe are amazing! He completely cracks me up every time he speaks. It's great to me the people they have placed on staff there. I have such a heart for the prison ministry and one of the pastors spent time in prison for burglary. He has this incredible testimony and I love that everyone feels welcome in that church!
I actually have had a great revelation since attending Victory. While I was still at The Bridge, we did the David study by Beth Moore, and when Kay Arthur was speaking she just really moved me. So much has happened in my life and I want to use it as a weapon against Satan. I have been through SO much in my life, more than most could even imagine, and without glorifying what I allowed Satan to get away with, I want to allow God to use the things that have happened and I've done in a way that is helpful and healing towards others.
I also just got some devastating news that my cousin, Sean, has been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. He's just a few years older than myself, and our entire family has always been close. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have to hear the words, "Without chemo, you only have about 6 months to live. With chemo, if it works properly, you could have about 12-15." Wow. I was stunned, shocked, and oddly at peace. Most call me a drama queen and normally I'd be flipping out, but as I prayed I just felt this amazing peace and I'm not afraid. I know that God has it all under control, and I think I'm finally learning to trust Him 100%. I want Sean to live to see a horribly old age, and I truly believe in miracles, so that's what I'm praying for, but in the event he goes before us all, I know I'll learn a lot through all of this.
I'll keep this updated better, because I want to be seen as the person I am, not the person I was! :)
Peace, love & fried chicken,
Chele
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Mountains and Mole Hills
A lot of times when I'm frustrated, I write it all down, re-read it, realize how dumb and childish I'm being and then throw it away.....that way I can't go back later and dwell on it. It is a great technique, almost like talking to a friend that knows every single little thing, because I'm really listening to myself.
Lately I've been writing down my frustrations, re-reading them and having difficulty throwing them away. Sometimes I think 'letting go of the little things' is harder than letting go of larger ones. It's somewhat easy to recognize that I need to let things go in order to move on with life, and I've done so with many things, but sometimes those little mole hills are there and I make them into mountains.
I try very hard not to live in the Land of If Only. I know that if I do I'll only go insane......and my insanity level is pretty much maxed out. I try so hard not to ask all the 'why?!' questions, but sometimes they still get the better of me.
We tend to take it to beyond the bonds of the truth, to the extreme, more and more these days. We seem to dig, dig, dig, that mole hill until we uncover, or find something, to make a mountain out of it. I, for one, have had enough of all the dug up dirt, all the mud slinging, to last me for the rest of my life. I think that if people ask themselves, what is the purpose of making a mountain out of a mole hill? Maybe everyone would have different answers. To exaggerate the truth to an uncomfortable level is to show their own need for acceptance and meaningfulness. Another might say that it would be boring if we didn't promote sensationalism. Is it really all about what people think? Only if you're a politician or TV star.
Truth is, we don't need to exaggerate any truths, the real truth can be hard enough to deal with now days.
Lately I've been writing down my frustrations, re-reading them and having difficulty throwing them away. Sometimes I think 'letting go of the little things' is harder than letting go of larger ones. It's somewhat easy to recognize that I need to let things go in order to move on with life, and I've done so with many things, but sometimes those little mole hills are there and I make them into mountains.
I try very hard not to live in the Land of If Only. I know that if I do I'll only go insane......and my insanity level is pretty much maxed out. I try so hard not to ask all the 'why?!' questions, but sometimes they still get the better of me.
We tend to take it to beyond the bonds of the truth, to the extreme, more and more these days. We seem to dig, dig, dig, that mole hill until we uncover, or find something, to make a mountain out of it. I, for one, have had enough of all the dug up dirt, all the mud slinging, to last me for the rest of my life. I think that if people ask themselves, what is the purpose of making a mountain out of a mole hill? Maybe everyone would have different answers. To exaggerate the truth to an uncomfortable level is to show their own need for acceptance and meaningfulness. Another might say that it would be boring if we didn't promote sensationalism. Is it really all about what people think? Only if you're a politician or TV star.
Truth is, we don't need to exaggerate any truths, the real truth can be hard enough to deal with now days.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
My Turn
It was very late on the eve of Labour Day when I walked down the steps at the 10th Street Brooklyn Station. I am still trying to remember how I managed to push myself in with a baby on my right hip, shouldering a bag on my left side, and my three small children trailing behind.
At Pennsylvania Street, Rochester, I was preparing to get off at the next station when I realized that just as it was a problem to get on, it would also be a problem to get off. That's when I saw him. He was just standing there, also preparing to get off, but with on a newspaper to care for. He was a little Puetro Rican man, but one who seemed ready to tackle any obstacle that lie before him. He had a long face, but it held kindness and thoughtfulness. He also had dark eyes; sharp, but nice. He gave me a look of concern, but quickly glanced the other way, shaking it off.
As the train entered the station, a white man generously helped me, placing my tired children on the long platform before walking away. When I stepped out, I then remembered the steep concrete stairs leading to the street above. I saw him look my direction with a questioning glance that left as quick as it came. Should I ask for his help, I wondered. Surely he wouldn't refuse, his face was practically begging to be of assistance. He continued to glance at me, quickly turning away when I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had a Puerto Rican friend before, a doll she was, so kind. She was very selfless, always meeting the needs of others before helping herself. "Julianna," she used to say, "Courtesy is a characteristic of my culture. Our motto is 'live and help live'. Always remember that, it is our way of life. If you refuse our help, you are going against the fabric of what we are taught."
As I stood there, badly needing some assistance, I thought about what might be running through his mind. I was sure he wanted to help, but did he think I would gladly accept his offer, or did he assume I was a lady with preconceived prejudices against anyone with a foreign accent, especially in a deserted subway station, hours past midnight?
Perhaps I'd misjudged him. I hesitated a long minute, the conflicts of the values and attitudes of our conflicting cultures were struggling inside me. Should I ask? Then, as though he had never seen me before, he ran down the platform, leaving my children behind me, my bag on my left arm, and my now-sleeping child on my right hip.
I took the steps of the long concrete stairs slowly, all my frustrations flowing out with each slow step. "So, this is what labels and prejudices can do to a world."
My friend had been right when she said everyone had an opportunity to change a life and change the world. I let go of the situation early on Labour Day morning, but the lesson I learned will stay with me forever. I refuse to fall into society's slanderous divisions and choose to remember the wise words of my friend.
Ignorance breeds intolerance, and intolerance breeds hatred. Only when we each take our turn to change these rules will the barriers of racism and division among us begin to come down.
At Pennsylvania Street, Rochester, I was preparing to get off at the next station when I realized that just as it was a problem to get on, it would also be a problem to get off. That's when I saw him. He was just standing there, also preparing to get off, but with on a newspaper to care for. He was a little Puetro Rican man, but one who seemed ready to tackle any obstacle that lie before him. He had a long face, but it held kindness and thoughtfulness. He also had dark eyes; sharp, but nice. He gave me a look of concern, but quickly glanced the other way, shaking it off.
As the train entered the station, a white man generously helped me, placing my tired children on the long platform before walking away. When I stepped out, I then remembered the steep concrete stairs leading to the street above. I saw him look my direction with a questioning glance that left as quick as it came. Should I ask for his help, I wondered. Surely he wouldn't refuse, his face was practically begging to be of assistance. He continued to glance at me, quickly turning away when I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had a Puerto Rican friend before, a doll she was, so kind. She was very selfless, always meeting the needs of others before helping herself. "Julianna," she used to say, "Courtesy is a characteristic of my culture. Our motto is 'live and help live'. Always remember that, it is our way of life. If you refuse our help, you are going against the fabric of what we are taught."
As I stood there, badly needing some assistance, I thought about what might be running through his mind. I was sure he wanted to help, but did he think I would gladly accept his offer, or did he assume I was a lady with preconceived prejudices against anyone with a foreign accent, especially in a deserted subway station, hours past midnight?
Perhaps I'd misjudged him. I hesitated a long minute, the conflicts of the values and attitudes of our conflicting cultures were struggling inside me. Should I ask? Then, as though he had never seen me before, he ran down the platform, leaving my children behind me, my bag on my left arm, and my now-sleeping child on my right hip.
I took the steps of the long concrete stairs slowly, all my frustrations flowing out with each slow step. "So, this is what labels and prejudices can do to a world."
My friend had been right when she said everyone had an opportunity to change a life and change the world. I let go of the situation early on Labour Day morning, but the lesson I learned will stay with me forever. I refuse to fall into society's slanderous divisions and choose to remember the wise words of my friend.
Ignorance breeds intolerance, and intolerance breeds hatred. Only when we each take our turn to change these rules will the barriers of racism and division among us begin to come down.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wings
When I was young, I spent a lot of time with my Nana. She was very special to me and she always had wonderful and uplifting things to say to everyone. One thing I remember her always saying is, "Michele, you can place roots anywhere, but make sure to keep those wings open." Being young, I never placed much stock in that, but I heard it all the time. It is only now that I am beginning to understand, and appreciate, her words.
The quiet child awaits the day when she can break free of that mold that clings like desperation. I've always been a shell of myself, I've never truly been 'me'. I want to feel, I don't care if I break down. If I fall, I may be bruised, but I'll rise again. I became much too good at being invinsible, then that changed, and I refuse to let life roll over me. I have wings and I want to fly, into a space where I can breathe and look back at this distance I have wandered. After all, I'm supposed to be someone who can face the things I've been running from.
I have huge passion for many things, and I want the power to affect change. My life is my message, the good and the bad. My passion, I believe, is heaven to no one else but me, and I'll defend it as long as I can be left to linger in its silence. Its silence is beautiful.
This is my time, I don't have to fake anything, I can use my wings to be who I am truly meant to be. Gandhi wrote, 'A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.' I absolutely love that quote, because I am determined to make a mark on this world. When I die, I want someone to be able to write a book about my life, and I don't want it to be a lie. I've made my mistakes but I'm dusting myself off and stretching out my wings.......I was born to fly.
The quiet child awaits the day when she can break free of that mold that clings like desperation. I've always been a shell of myself, I've never truly been 'me'. I want to feel, I don't care if I break down. If I fall, I may be bruised, but I'll rise again. I became much too good at being invinsible, then that changed, and I refuse to let life roll over me. I have wings and I want to fly, into a space where I can breathe and look back at this distance I have wandered. After all, I'm supposed to be someone who can face the things I've been running from.
I have huge passion for many things, and I want the power to affect change. My life is my message, the good and the bad. My passion, I believe, is heaven to no one else but me, and I'll defend it as long as I can be left to linger in its silence. Its silence is beautiful.
This is my time, I don't have to fake anything, I can use my wings to be who I am truly meant to be. Gandhi wrote, 'A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.' I absolutely love that quote, because I am determined to make a mark on this world. When I die, I want someone to be able to write a book about my life, and I don't want it to be a lie. I've made my mistakes but I'm dusting myself off and stretching out my wings.......I was born to fly.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Secrets
It's nothing small to carry around a secret so big. I, of all people, should recognize this. As much as I am the talker, I'm also very quiet when it comes to my own personal life, secrets bottled up for years. But now I'm done being silent, Satan has taken enough from me and I refuse to stand by and watch.
I led a double life as a child. On the outside I was everything I was supposed to be, but on the inside, I was slowly dying. When I was nine years old, an unthinkable act happened to me. To me. I remember always watching Lifetime movies with my Mom and thinking, "Those poor women and children, to endure such tragedy, I don't know how they do it."
It's been 20 years now. Twenty years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass and the heat of the brick against my back. I can smell their sweat and it causes me to gag. I can hear their voices and see the blank expressions on their faces. I can feel my hair being pulled and remember what it's like to choke on my own vomit.
The age old rhyme of 'Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone.' rings very true here, however, at the age of nine I would've never guessed how much evil would've rooted itself in my life. It's like a cancer that just spreads, but it stops now.
God has saved my life and He has saved my death, and it's time to start living. It's time to not be afraid of fear anymore and to trust people......and myself. It's nothing very small to carry around secrets so big, trust me.
I led a double life as a child. On the outside I was everything I was supposed to be, but on the inside, I was slowly dying. When I was nine years old, an unthinkable act happened to me. To me. I remember always watching Lifetime movies with my Mom and thinking, "Those poor women and children, to endure such tragedy, I don't know how they do it."
It's been 20 years now. Twenty years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass and the heat of the brick against my back. I can smell their sweat and it causes me to gag. I can hear their voices and see the blank expressions on their faces. I can feel my hair being pulled and remember what it's like to choke on my own vomit.
The age old rhyme of 'Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone.' rings very true here, however, at the age of nine I would've never guessed how much evil would've rooted itself in my life. It's like a cancer that just spreads, but it stops now.
God has saved my life and He has saved my death, and it's time to start living. It's time to not be afraid of fear anymore and to trust people......and myself. It's nothing very small to carry around secrets so big, trust me.
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