Guts

Take a knife

and cut me up

inside out

see my guts.

Read the signs

read them well

see what stories

they have to tell.

Tales with words

words of blood

pouring forth like

a crimson flood.

Can numb be painful?

Can light be dark?

Can outside be in?

the finish the start?

Makes no sense

no sense you see

this mind of mine

the mind that's ME.

The Fool

I looked in her eyes to see if I still knew her. I wanted her to look like someone else. Someone evil I didn't know. But I knew her. The part that had said she loved me was there but peaking out from behind her, a calm cold calculating woman who uses people who succumb to her charms then throws them away like they are trash. Once I was her obsession. Now she latches onto her next. As cold hearted as the person is I see, I miss the one who I thought she was and I must mourn the death of the one I knew. The one I loved. The one who I thought brought the stars out at night. She is gone. She is dead. And I hurt. I bleed, not from external cuts but from the internal ones brought on by all the lies. I am a fool.

The Demon Date

This is the time of night 

when the demons come

and my heart races

and I can't feel numb

But I try, oh I try

to reach down low

turn off the faucet

turn off the flow

But the tears, oh they fall

and my heart, it does bleed

and I ask for a bandage

and i beg and i plead 

But there ain't nobody out there

ain't no one awake

when the world crashes down

and I've had more than I can take.

And the sleep, it never comes

just tortures me to death 

and I can't see through darkness

and I can't catch my breath.

And I rock till I'm thristy

then I rock till I'm tired

and I can't even nap

cause I'm so fucking wired

Finally I collapse 

not even a pillow for my head

but I don't even care

just glad to have a bed

Then in mercy without limits

I finally slip into dreams

and I wake up with the daylight

and hope outweighs the screams. 

Land of the Broken

This is the land of the angry

This is the home of the pissed

This is a platoon of fighters

To get back the life we have missed

To lay claim to what is ours

To take back a heart full of peace

To fight for quiet and tranquility

To make the war inside cease.

To silence the voices inside

Self doubt, self hate, non stop

Speaking yelling cursing us

Beating us till we drop

Looking over our shoulders

Waiting for the beast to strike

Feeling the hot breathe of evil

Carrying a "fuck you" spike.

Expecting enemies at every turn

We will never disappointed be

Because what we seek we will find

And what we fear we will see

So how do we fight for peace

But lay all our weapons down

But when the enemy is ourselves

Self trust never seems to abound

So round and round we go

In this hamster wheel heart beating

Distrusting the feet we run on

Fearing happiness is fleeting.

This is the land of the broken

This is the land of exhaust

This is the home of the cornered dog

fighting for the life which was lost.

Falling off the world

The world it turned

And off we fell

Into empty space

Own personal hell

Nothing to hold

Nothing to grab

Not a branch to save me

Not even dirt to stab

There was no up

There was no down

Was I even falling

Would I hit the ground?

Would I ever stop?

Or fall endlessly?

A ghost caught in the suction

Spiritual amputee

Can't say I know the answer

No ending to the rhyme

One day I will know

Somewhere out in time

Fur Night Dreams

I sought a place

to disappear

I didn't know why

I didn't know where

the instinct burned

It begged me go

It hastened now

Quick speed bestow

Shivered shoulders

A watched-feeled back

A hunted prey's worst nightmare

No goosebumps did I lack

Searching quickly

No hiding place find

No weapon to defend

No sweet peace of mind

Listening for my predator

A monster with evil breath

I heard silence loudly trumpeting

As I waited for my death

My heart beat a thousand lives

My mouth dry as desert eve

As the clock ticked away the minutes

For the moment I did believe

In my dreams I had seen the future

The fur the eyes the blood

And I knew that I was next

Fear filled me like a flood

Then finally it arrived

My terror choking hour

Remember me when I die

With a simple sweet white flower

Around the corner it came

The shadow large and pressing

I asked for forgiveness for all my sins

And begged for last rite blessings

Then expecting heaven to say

It is finished, it is written

Walking toward me limping came

A tiny little kitten

Her leg, the fur all matted

The blood mixed with road dust

Her eyes begged for kindness

My heart begged her to trust

For that which had brought me terror

Didn't look so scary now

Just another soul who was broken

And needed me somehow

Six Feet Under Ground

I lost myself somewhere sometime

I crawl so far inside

I don't exist out there anymore

So in the dark I hide

I'm just a tiny piece of dust

Kicked about by the wind

Sucked into an empty vortex

This black hole never to transcend

To the dark I escape

Or Is the night my prison

I search for what is me

Yet I have lost my night vision

Take a step, hit a wall

Turn around and repeat

My face a bloody mess

As I face frustration and defeat

Inside it's dark

Inside it's small

Then I know without a doubt

the sad truth of it all

This place I hide

Praying my soul doth save

Is not my salvation

But my coffin, my grave.

It's not time to die

But this time must live

But I'm tired, so tired

Sweet relief, something please give.

Someone dig me up

Someone let me out

But if I see the sunshine

In fear will I shout?

Release me! Leave me be!

A captive to my fear

Where will I feel like me

Out there or tucked in here?

Will I ever know the answer

Will I ever pass the test

Will I always be bumping into walls

Will I ever feel at rest?

No happy ending

No ever after found

Just fighting to stay above

Six feet under ground.

Cocoon of Thorns

Hello dear friend, explosion suspend,

you know when I need your caress.

Your magic touch, no fight, this much

I know as fire sparks off your undress.

Your smooth, sharp blade, for it I have prayed

to sail smoothy down my flesh

and open a river, with barely a quiver

and create my soul newly fresh.

The pain so divine, the release so sublime

I can declare that I breath once again

For I feared to exhale until upon you I impale

and fall into a satisfying zen.

I long to cocoon in your thorn ridden room

as upon needles of love I abide

this hammock dripping wet, with blood and with sweat

and in this prickly peace I will hide.

Angry Beast

Stupid motherfucking world

I'm so angry for a fight

We try and try to do good

still lay awake at night.

Work our fucking asses off

and our fingers to the bone

then we hear a little ring

bill collectors on the phone.

Then I try to love my wife

cause I really think she rocks

then a self righteous christian

jumps up on his soapbox.

We are going to hell?

How 'bout you Mr. Pharisee?

Go to church on Sunday

but full of hypocrisy.

And then the politicians

Pro-family Yes! my ass

put down the stones ya throwin'

you're in a house made of glass.

I'm just trying to live here, ya'll

leave me and mine in peace

I want to be god lovin

but I'm just a angry beast.

Fu*king Shark Snack

Fuckin' trapped in a box

floatin' on the open sea

sharks swimmin' all around

snappin' hard and fast at me. 

Ain't got nowhere to go

can't go up, only down

my fate to get eaten

an hors d'œuvre before I drown.

And now I just sprung a leak

and the water's rushing cold

the fear done turn to rage

this bullshit's gettin' old.

All you stupid fuckin' sharks

better hope this is your day

cause I'm pissed as holy hell

and you best get out my way.

I'm angry and I'm tired

and I've had all I can take

and at the moment it would feel amazin'

if all your bones I could break.

And I know its mighty ugly

but its hard to give a shit.

when I try to stay afloat

and end up getting hit.

Time and time and time again

over and over til I bleed

what the fuck do you want

my first born? my first seed?

Well kiss my ass you motherfucker

I'm tired of all your praddle

I'll tear you into bits

use your shark fin as my paddle. 

Then I'll have something finally

something that's all mine

I won't owe you all I'm worth

a few pennies and a dime.

Ying Yang: The Human Condition

I'm a stone cold butch

I'm a scared little child

I'm a quiet introvert

who can go buck wild.

I am full of great love

but can scream in a rage

I'm free as an eagle

yet a bird in a cage.

I'm an agnostic with great faith

I'm a sinner and a saint

I draw the peace symbol

and I wear war paint.

I cry until I laugh

then I laugh until I cry

I look  to take my life

then I fight not to die.

I'm a little troublemaker

then dream I'm Superman

cause a little mischief

then save all I can. 

I'm an angel and a devil

just a dirt poor millionaire

I'm a reason for concern

I'm an answer to prayer.

I am that I am. I am me.

Smashing

I'm smashing into you 

while beholding your face

the perfection, the moment

the passion embrace.

And I melt into you

and finally feel whole

cause you saw inside of me

my own boyish soul.

And in your eyes I see home

like a prodigal child

I am safe once again

and in love I am wild.

My lips touch yours

until the end of all time

for our souls interlock

as our hearts intertwine.

P.A.N.I.C.

Image by Mitchell Krog

How many days has it been since i forgot what it was not to fear? I know it was 2 summers past when the Panic came back with a ferocity I will not soon forget. Six hours of unrelentless terror that had no face, for it came from within me. 

I had managed to go many years without knowing him. It is an old friend, or an old enemy, but I know him well. I have know him since I was 8 years old. It is hard to imagine me without Panic, but I existed for a time that way. I had hoped that he was gone for good, but it was not meant to be. It seems now that he has me again, he refuses to let go. 

It was miraculous how he disappeared the first time. I fell in love. And the Agoraphobia and Panic that kept me in my house terrified, was pushed back and I flew to a far away land where either could rarely find me. I had a chance to experience life as I have never know it before. For a time.

I returned to my beloved home in the Appalachian Mountains, knowing that the possibility existed that Panic would find me again. I was stronger, I told myself. I could fight. And for a time I did. 

Then in the perfect storm, the perfect circumstances, when I least expected it...among laughter and friends, it hit me like a heart attack. In a way, it was a heart attack, for it took my very life, my ability to live a normal life away from me yet again. Those few years of knowing what it was like to do things without fear....gone. 

Panic takes my breath away. It locks me in my bedroom afraid to move. In the midst of panic, the slightest movement, the most minute touch, the quietest sound, sends uncontrollable shivers down me. Waves of nausea and inexplicable fear course through my body and I know terror with an intimacy I do not want. I hide in any corner, curled up in a ball, waiting for it to pass. 

In my 6 hours of terror, my worst episode ever, I finally reached the point that I truly believed it would never go away. I begged, pleaded with God, in simple childhood speak, "please take it away, please take it away, please take it away, please take it away, please take it away....". One hour became two...became three, became four, became five, and then six. Finally, with an exhaustion once unknown, it eased. 

I try so hard to forget that day, and I cannot. I can't forget the episodes that have occurred time and time again after that. I can't forget the terror of being 40 minutes away from home and that time feeling like endless eternity. I can't forget the dry heaving on the side of the road as I tried to judge when I could drive like a bat out of hell to get home, or when I must stop to puke. 

I try to replace new memories with the old ones, but when something that effects your entire being with such ferocity, it must be replaced with equally strong good memories. So I must get the strength to walk outside again, and make those memories. 

The world seems such a strange place to me now. My world has been this room for untold weeks. And yet in order to live, I must go out there. I tell myself I have been out there before, and have been okay. I was more than okay for several years, and I can be again. Sometimes, I wish Panic had a face, so I could avoid him. If I saw him coming, I would walk the other way. 

Mental games do so much. I know this is inside me, and I am the only one who can fight it. I am a warrior. I have made it 30 odd years in this battle, yet I get so very tired. The day to day living that seems so simple for many others, such as walking outside, going to work, going to the store or out to eat, takes an emotional and mental battle that makes this warrior a child far too often. 

I look at myself now, and I feel that I have aged beyond my years. I look so tired. Yet what choice do I have but to continue? I can give up, and let go of my life, but I have fought so long and hard to live. I just want a moment to breathe because I want to, not because my body automatically does. I want to forget what it feels like to be afraid. I want to feel safe in a moment of sweet love.  I want to go to work, and do my part, and make a difference without being afraid of doing normal everyday stuff. I want the life I deserve to have. And the scary thing is the only person who can make that happen is me. 

 

Memories of Time Perception

Image by Time Love Memory

They say time heals all wounds

and time is tickin' away

but in my fu*ked up mind

its just one endless day.

The days turn into nights

but I just don't seem to move

its like I am stepin'

to my own weird groove.

I think real hard in my brain

last week and month to recall

but its only short images

I can't make sense of it all.

If it were a fantasy

I would make it all feel good

but instead its like a nightmare

in my own little neighborhood.

Now I know there's been good times

my heart remembers those

but they seem damn distant

reachin' for them on tiptoes.

Time perception is strange sometimes

when you want time to last

it goes by so suddenly

and quickly becomes your past.

Yet when you are in a dark place

its one long endless night

and you are awake to feel it all

and you struggle with all your might.

Now I may not recall yesterday

but I have hope for tomorrow

and whatever it takes to get there

from time I will beg, steal, cheat and borrow.

Children of Heaven

I just don't understand

why love is so foreign to you

but you find hate so easy

gather your posse and your crew.

Shave your head to i.d. yourself

wear momma's robe of white

cover yourself though you say your proud

shout "white power" in the dark of night.

Go ahead and burn your crosses

it only goes to show

how little you can think

and how little you really know. 

Don't you understand and realize

We're all just one big race

The children of Heaven

all with a different kind of face?

So throw your hate under the bus

and in the back sit down your ass 

until you let your guard down

and learn its love you need to pass. 

Chronicle of the Insane

I am determined that I will chronicle every moment I can of this craziness going on inside of me. I don't know if it is caused by the sudden onset menopause after my surgery, or if there is another explanation. I am just sure it is worse than the struggles I have had before.  I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of my own thoughts. In my logical mind I tell myself, it is the hormones going nuts, not myself. It is too coincidental to be happening months following the surgery. However, there is always doubt in your head that it is just you...something terribly wrong with you.

I want to be able to come back to what I have written during this time, and be able to see what I have overcome. I do not post these things for pity or to hurt anyone. I post them so that I and others will see the victory that can be theirs just by hanging on. I am very aware that this is so very raw and I apologize. It is real. In my mind it is so very real. I know that there are others who have been there, and thought that and I want you to know you are not alone. 

In my drugged stupor last night after having taken Trazadone as prescribed by my physician, I began to write what you will read below. The photo you see is the actual thing. I lay in bed, too drugged to get up, but the words kept coming and I kept writing. I cannot sleep until all the thoughts have been emptied onto paper on onto the screen. I did not create a happy ending to this poem, although I usually do. It stops quiet abruptly as I feel asleep without a solution.  

What I say can be frightening to those who love me, including myself, but again, I am still here, I am still fighting. I will remain. I will be okay. 

Chronicle of the Insane

This is a chronicle of going insane

this is a story of an exploding brain

you reach the point to where you fall

and hope you explode into nothing at all.

Tie me down, lock me away

cause I'm afraid to see another day

I afraid for the sun to rise

to look up and see the clear blue skies.

Cause it will mean that I'm not dead

just existing, sick in the head

and one tiny second will seem like several days

while I am stuck in this cold dark haze.

Its like having one of those fuc*ing dreams

where you try with all your might to fuc*ing scream

and though you stand in the middle of a crowd

and you breathe in deep and you scream so loud.

But no one hears a fuc*ing sound

and you feel that to hell your soul is bound

and the thoughts don't stop, the voices don't cease

and you will never have one moment of feelin' peace.

And you wake up in a cold hot sweat

thinking how much worse can this fuc*ing get

and it does cause now you are fully awake

and you wonder how much more you can really take.

....of a better day.

Insomnia, Delirium Dreams, and Decisions

The last time I remember sleeping well was the night I was suicidal. I called my parents to come get my gun, cried until I could cry no more, prayed until I was in the fetal position, and finally took enough drugs to knock myself out. I can't remember how many days or weeks that has been. 

Tonight, no matter how many drugs I take, I cannot rest. My head pounds, my muscles tense. My desperation for sleep is deep. My mind will not shut down. I can't think clearly although I don't seem to stop thinking. I don't recall much of what I ate today...or was it yesterday? I called my mom tonight to tell her "Mom, my world has to stop and I have to get off". And mom lays now on the recliner beside my bed. 

I think I dozed a little or maybe I'm so delirious and drugged it was a waking dream. I can't be sure.  I recall running through the jungle with my friend. We were warriors. She was running behind me and I stepped to the side to avoid something. When I did, she was shot. I stopped and turned around. She was injured and I did not know if she would survive. I was struck with the decision of running to save my own life or stopping in the small hope I could save her. I awoke with tears streaming down my face saying "I'm sorry..I'm so sorry." 

I don't know why I am here in this place. Perhaps it is the crazy hormones of menopause or because of all that has happened this year. I don't feel like I have stopped fighting since it all began. In fact, I don't feel like I have ever stopped fighting. 

Part of me is afraid to sleep for the dreams that will come and the other part wants nothing more than not to exist for just a little while. I don't want to die, I want to rest. 

I have spent my life feeling like I have to defend myself against something. If its not fighting the psychological issues that have been with me since a child, it is the religion that says the very essence of who I am is an abomination. And then it is the fight to be me, knowing that I will be starred at, made fun of.... an embarrassment to my (former) partner because I am too butch. Then I must fight against my own self-hate for the messages all that mess has put into my head. Now that I am alone, I am left with the long endless nights to figure out how to save myself and still be a good person. 

And I'm not sure I know how to do both. The short dream I had is easily interpreted. This is my decision. How can I be a person that I can be proud of and still save myself? My instinct is to run back and never leave anyone behind who is hurting, even if they have hurt me. Yet if I know that to save myself I must go forward...I must go on. 

This warrior is so very tired. Up ahead is safety and rest, but to get there, I must be a selfish person. I don't like that. I don't like that at all.

The Fluidity of Sexuality, Spirituality, and Emotions

By Ian Plant

I have been told by a wise and wonderful woman that I like to put emotions and thoughts into boxes. It seems to make my mind less cluttered and able to deal with things better. However, in doing so, I put myself in a predetermined category and create self-fulfilling prophecies. For instance, I say that for more than 30 years I have had panic attacks. I do not know life without them. So I have put myself in a place where I expect to have them because they are such a strong part of me. 

In many ways, this wise and wonderful woman, is my spiritual muse. She has taught me to think in a more fluid way. I had started the process of this in regards to spirituality before I met her, but our hours upon hours of conversation only expanded my insight. 

In regards to religion and spirituality, I had broken away from the rigid Free Will Baptist upbringing. I had started to find my way back to God as an individual child of God, not as someone dedicated to certain doctrines. I just had not reached that ah-ha moment when the light turns on and things just click because the truth suddenly flows all over you. One night during one of our conversations, I said to her "It is interesting that you put no limits or barriers on spirituality." She said, "Jamie, there are none. Who can put limits on God? God is God. " Bingo. That was it. God is God and I just need to be able to allow that in my life whatever that means. Not putting God in a box is one of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned. 

Once this idea of fluidity entered my mind, I realized it for its far reaching potential. I identify sexually as a butch lesbian. It took me many years to become comfortable in myself after my rigid upbringing. However, I realize that if you ask me if I am male or female, I will tell you "both and neither". Although I have the sexual organs of a female, I have an androgenous spirit. I am told that I am very butch and masculine, yet by womyn more manly than myself, I am a bit girly. So the spectrum is not clear. It is not set in stone. I am just me. I am strong, yet sensitive. A protector yet need protected. I am a hopeless romantic who loves nothing more than to romance my lady, but isn't romance a chick thing?

I think my spiritual muse was right. One of my biggest issues has been trying to put things in boxes, because I simply do not fit. I am tender hearted, but quick to anger. I am very spiritual but tend to curse like a sailor. I think in accepting that fluidity, I would allow myself to be perfectly imperfect. I would realize that not everything is black and white. I would relieve so much pressure from myself and I would learn to love myself and believe that I am worth being loved.

It is exactly my failure in being able to do this and my mistake of shoving my spiritual muse in a box, that caused me to lose her. I lost my friend. I lost one of the most important connections of my entire life. I didn't think that I was good enough to hold onto, and I passed that anger onto her. My insecurities and separation anxiety hurt someone I care a lot about. I want to open the box up and free her and say, I sorry for shoving you in this dark place. 

Just as the fluidity of sexuality and spirituality flow, so do my emotions. They are unpredictable and very deep. Sometimes tame, sometimes extreme. I allowed that to cause pain for her. Sometimes connections are so intense that they hurt, and in this case, they did. 

I must admit, I feel lost without her. I miss our conversations, our laughter, the times we have cried together and brought peace to one another. I don't know if her heart will ever heal enough to ever talk to me again, but when I pray now, I ask God to touch her heart and repair what I have broken. Never have I known someone with such insight and a clear and free connection to God. I hope that in connection she can find forgiveness and healing. 

Love is fluid and comes in many forms. If it is unconditional, then nothing can break that. And I will pray daily that love will bring my friend back. We still  have much to learn from each other, and much support to offer. May God bring grace to us so that we can find a path of reconnection.

Melissa was right...."It only hurts when I breathe".

Ali Ashraf Roni

Never in all my life did I think I could hurt anymore than I did coming out as a gay woman. It was full of the most agonizing moments of my life. It brought me to the brink of suicide so many times. Being told that God hates your very being and you are doomed is not something that warms your heart. The metamorphosis into acceptance was incredibly painful.  It was 5 years of hell,  full of depression, panic attacks, delusions, hallucinations, and despair. I have no idea how I survived it. But I did. 

I thought the worst was over. I thought if I could survive that, I could survive anything. I had many good years after that. Many blessings, many good experiences. I had a relationship that I thought was good, and for a long time it was. Then I found that I had been living in a world of delusion. It was good while it lasted. 

And now, here I sit alone. In reality. I hate reality. My friends at work joke that I am in my own little world and I am. I don't know how to make it any other way. It works most of the time. I have learned my job and I do it automatically. Normally I do it well. I exist there in order to get home and write. It is my saving grace. 

Yet these last two day, it has only been a temporary solace. There are moments when I am okay, even laughing. Yet, suddenly, something will send me down into darkness. As I write, I cry. If I stop writing, I feel as if I will die. Yet how many times can you say the same thing. In my head I tell myself to go on and it makes sense, and then that thing...that photo...that name...that scent...that blog entry.. stares me down and I fall into a deep dark pit.

And these moments hurt more than any moment I can recall. Never has losing someone hurt this badly. I was just starting to deal with losing my wife. There were only two rooms in the house where I could be without feeling her. And those two rooms are now filled with the one I have now lost. Everywhere I look, something reminds me of her. Sitting at this computer reminds me of her. Writing reminds me of her, for in many ways, she was my muse. 

And now I have to find a way to bring positivity back into the house. I have to figure out how to save my heart and my life. I have to find a way to create new memories. I tell myself to just hold on a little longer, to live for the next 60 seconds, not the next 60 days. 

And somehow, I wake up the next morning, and I get in the zone that allows me to survive, to function. It is like holding my breath for 6 hours until I can get home again, because as the Melissa Etheridge song says "It only hurts when I breathe." So I try not to. 

It Only Hurts When I Breathe

I am so tired. So tired of the struggle. So tired of the fight. But I am convinced...I KNOW that there is hope out there. I KNOW there is happiness somewhere. I KNOW there will be a time when I don't hurt like this. 

I'll be damned if I will give up. I have doubted my resolve often in recent months, but every time I have taken another step, I have found that that step leads to something good. I am no fool. Although I live much of my time in my own imaginary world, I know that somewhere, out there, I will hurt again. Everybody hurts. But then I will feel happiness again. 

I must grieve. I have to allow myself that. I feel as if two of the most important people in my life, have died this year. So I know I must go through the process of grieving that loss. I can't hide that grief and I cannot ignore it. I must deal with it no matter how painful it may be. 

I know I will come out stronger. My heart will go on beating.  Hopefully I will learn from my mistakes and I will become a better person. But first, I have to forgive myself. I have to love myself. I have to accept that I am human. And I am not at that point of acceptance yet. 

There is a Johnny Cash song that reads "I'm just an ol' lump of coal, but I'm going to be a diamond someday." I don't know when that day will ever come. I know that as the seasons change, and the earth moves, that I am being formed and reformed. It is a painful process. 

I hang on thinking that surely to God, sharing my experiences will minister to someone else. I beg that my hurt not be in vain. I have to find a purpose in it. 

I dream of a ministry. I see it in my mind where one day, someone will hear me speak, or read something I have written and the plans they had to die that day will change. I see a day where the simple act of a teddy bear hug from me will give someone the strength to keep going. I imagine a moment where a person in pain looks in my eyes and into my soul and sees understanding and love.

I wrote a song once where the chorus read "If I have to hurt Lord, let me feel the pain, if I have to bleed Lord, let me bleed like rain, tie a string tightly around my soul, but don't let me forget, Lord, those who need God's Love Patrol."

And so in these moments of intense pain, when it only hurts when I breathe, I remember these feelings. I memorize them. Because if I do, I will recognize them in others. I will see the pain in their eyes because I saw it in mine. And only then will I be able to reach out and touch their heart and help bring them peace.

Someday....

Agony of Friendship

As difficult as this year has been...my "divorce" from my partner of 10 years, followed by a cancer diagnosis and subsequent surgery,  nothing compares to the loss of a friendship. In 7 months, I have lost the two most important friendships I have ever had. 

When you are a part of someone's everyday life, suddenly not having that feels as if someone died. It is a grieving process. As part of your defense, you try to remember the bad stuff because it is easier to be angry than it is to be sad. But then there are times in the still of the day when those good memories come flooding back. Maybe its because you caught the scent of the perfume they wore, or heard a song you used to sing. And then it hurts like hell. 

Right now, I am still busy being angry about my divorce, so it doesn't hurt so much. I stay out of rooms I associate with her. I live in just a small part of the house where I cannot remember her every time I look at the couch she used to sit on, or the tv she used to watch. Everything of her has been removed from the house. I couldn't even do it myself, but my mother in her understanding, did it for me when I was recovering from surgery so I didn't have to see. Even though I am angry, and have reason to be, she was still my best friend for 10 years. When I see her now, it is as if I am seeing a stranger or seeing through different eyes. And it makes it easier. 

Then I met someone whose connection with me spiritually and emotionally surpassed all I have ever felt before. Our connection was so strong that we could feel what was happening with the other one thousands of miles away even though we were not in contact. I would wake up from a nap, only to have her know what I had dreamed. One day, at work, I was having a panic attack, and suddenly, on my phone, there she was asking what was wrong. And she could bring me peace. She was my writing partner, my muse. She was my partner in ministry. I am a person who can only hold a ten minute conversation if I am lucky most of the time, but I could easily talk to her for 10 hours and it seem like minutes. 

But this incredible bond had a dark side. It is wonderful to feel the happiness of the other person with such intensity, but the feeling the pain in addition to your own is overwhelming. Inside us both is a beautiful, kind spirit, but also a spirit that is scarred and bruised. When she would see my hurt, she felt it...and when she disappeared into her agony...I agonized with her. I physically felt it. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. The agony of being so far away from her and not being able to do anything brought a sense of intense desperation. 

The combination of dealing with this sudden menopause after the surgery and feeling the intensity of the emotional pain brought me to my knees.  I cried as I have never cried. I prayed as I have never prayed. And that darkness went through our connection and back to her, thousands of miles away.

And so I tried to save myself by getting angry, by stopping the connection. And in doing so shook the spirit of us both. And now we sit so far apart...raw and hurt. I didn't know saving yourself was supposed to hurt so much. My friend is gone. And yet I continue to feel her pain. Knowing that I made it worse instead of better makes my heart bleed. 

Someday, I hope to have my friend back. Maybe then we will be able to find a balance in our connection. I miss the conversations. I miss the laughter. I miss the creative and spiritual nature of us. We were a good team, especially in ministry. 

The hard thing about being an emotionally crippled spirit, is that you are all walking wounded. There are none among you who is healthy. There is no medic, no doctor. There are just people with emotional limps, open wounds, and hearts who struggle to keep beating. You have to look at one another knowing that these people who are your family that you love so very much hurt as much as you do, and the helplessness in not being able to make them better can destroy you. 

There has to be a way to love, and be loved, without hurting so damn much. 

To my friend...if you ever read this...when the moment is not so raw anymore...let us heal. I remember the good in you, and it hurts so much. You are a compassionate, insightful, loving spirit. You have seen my spirit and know me. You have read the words upon my soul. I am sorry that my pain hurts you so much. It is years upon years of pain that cannot be healed easily. 

I know that when people recognize the hurt in others, it can make them fearful of them. No one wants to be around a broken spirit. But there are so many broken spirits out there. I show my own, so they know they are not alone. Sometimes I think if I cannot save myself, maybe I can save someone else in getting this message to them. And I know that hurts you. 

But I beg that God use this, these stripes I carry, and turn it into peace for someone. I created Whisper Creek as a place for peace because I know I need it so much. But there are times that I feel I cannot enter there. It is sacred, holy ground. I fear that with my blood I will taint it, so here I am. 

I will heal as will you and I hope that when that time comes, you will connect with me again. I hope that you will meet me at Whisper Creek, and that we will find peace. Hopefully, someday, the rawness will go away and new healthy hearts will form and it will be better. And in your moments of quiet, when you sense me, I am there.