I don’t know what to do with myself today. Last night, I took a ***** ** ******** *****. I can’t believe I’m even conscious right now. I had hoped to rest the entire weekend. I dreamt weird dreams last night and then was up early this morning. My body feels numb and tingly and I’m not moving too quickly. I don’t feel like being productive even though there are a ton of things I need to do.
So I guess I’ll just write. I have so much I’ve wanted to say, but I didn’t have the energy to write things out this past week. I feel weak because life is too hard for me. Most people don’t have this problem. I don’t know why I can’t get over it.
There are things I’m very grateful for. Every day, I’ve been thanking God for what He’s done. Lately, He’s helped me a lot financially. I’m still very much in the hole, but He has provided quite a bit. I’ve also been reflecting on the people who HAVE been there for me, even if they’re not currently able to be. Rob, Jackie, Cam, Andy, Mike (my former pastor)…all these people have been supportive of me. But every single one of them live super far away. I’m also thankful for Kara. She’s here, but I don’t see her or talk with her that much. I’m still thankful that she came to my rescue when I was in the hospital. I hate the fact that I was hospitalized. It makes me feel like I’m not worthy to be a human being. It has taken away what little dignity I had. I feel like a piece of shit. I’m not sure that will ever go away. I’m thankful that I’m in a position to help the young people I work with. I often reflect on why they come to me with their troubles. I think that’s God’s doing and I take that seriously. If God wants me to help them, I absolutely will. Hell, even if I thought God didn’t want that, I’d still be there for them for as long as I live. I’m grateful for that job and those kids.
I’ve been thinking of being purposely homeless for the summer. At my therapist’s urging, I’m attempting to make plans for the future. It’s difficult when you don’t SEE a future. I honestly can’t believe I lived through January. Everything I see is still dark and black and opaque, mottled out. But I know if I live through to this summer, I’ll have to move again and I have no idea where to go. So I thought of putting all my stuff in storage and saving rent money for 1 or 2 months. I’d probably be traveling around in my car anyway and I could live out of my car or my tent. I also thought maybe I could visit people who are going out of town and then I could house sit or dog sit for them. That way, I could have a place to stay, even if only for a week, and I wouldn’t be imposing on them by being in their way. I’d love to visit with my friends while they’re there, but maybe I could arrange it around when they’ll be taking their summer vacations. I don’t know…it’s just a thought. Maybe it wouldn’t work out at all. Maybe I might feel even more detached, even more depressed, even more despondent if I don’t have a place to call home. I’m going to think about it more. I don’t even know if I’ll make it until then anyway.
I was watching The Great Gatsby this morning. Seeing all that wealth and how people just partied and danced and drank… I thought of what I would do if I had unlimited riches. I’d live in a nice, big house- that’s for sure. I guess because I was so poor growing up and lived in such a terrible neighborhood, that’s always something I’ve dreamed of. To this day, I live in an apartment complex that’s nothing special, but it’s a little above what I can afford. I’ve searched over and over for apartments within my price range and I just don’t feel safe there. The fact that I live alone and walk my dog at all hours of the night alone makes me feel like vulnerable prey. I remember making the conscious decision to pay more money to feel safer when I walk my dog alone at night.
Anyway, there’s a family here whom I love. They’re all illegal. I love the children and have dreamed of being able to pay an attorney to help them get their citizenship. I also want to buy them a house. They’re amazing people and even though they work really hard, they’re super poor. The parents came to America to try to build a better life for their children and I respect that. I wish more people would.
I’ve also dreamed of doing other things with my super big house- I’d love to host refugees and give them a place to stay while they get their feet on the ground. I would also LOVE to be able to use my super big house to give women and girls who have escaped sex trafficking a safe place to stay. For as long as they need- even if that means for years. I remember talking with an LEO about mercenary work he did in other countries. One of the things he was hired to do was go in and conduct forcible rescue missions of girls who had been taken from their families. Usually, it was the families who hired him. I thought that was just completely bad ass and how I would love to take part in those rescue missions. What better way is there than to spend your life helping others like that?? Over the last 3 years, since I met this guy, I thought about getting involved with that kind of work. But I don’t trust him. He’s not a good person. He does good work, but he does it for the money. And he’s already tried (and is still trying) to do inappropriate things with me. So I’m staying away from him…not even answering his calls and texts. But I still like the idea of the work he’s done.
What else? Let’s see… oh, I’ve always wanted to be a ballerina. 😂 If you knew how tom-boyish I am, you’d find that comical. I don’t know why…maybe it’s because we could never afford lessons like that when I was a child and so I found myself fascinated with it because it was so foreign and beautiful. I also just love the gracefulness of the dancers. I surely don’t have that grace. So if I had unlimited money, I’d take ballet lessons too, in between caring for and housing refugees and sex trafficking survivors. Actually, I’d never limit it to solely sex trafficking…any kind of human trafficking, male or female, young or old, I’d love to be able to give them a safe haven where they could heal and maybe blossom.
Oh…cruise ships and the ocean. I love them! I could seriously live on a giant ship for the rest of my life and be content. I’d want to sail around the world and spend time on exotic islands with pristine white or pink sand beaches and aqua water. While we’re at it, I’d also like to visit every country. I used to do a lot of international travel and haven’t been able to do that in probably a decade now. I always told God I wanted Him to show me a few things. One was that I wanted to see every corner of this globe, every inch of this world and his creation. The other is His universe. I asked God that when I die, I wanted to get a grand tour of the universe from Him. I want Him to show me absolutely everything He has made and how it all works. I don’t think that will really ever happen, but ya never know.
And truthfully, I’d be content just simply feeling God’s love. Not feeling it come and go, but consistently feeling God’s presence and His arms wrapped around me for all of eternity. But that’s not how things work.
Sometimes, like now, I feel translucent, like I don’t even exist. I don’t matter, I’m invisible to people, no one sees me or my pain. I think I’m hopelessly alone and forsaken in this big world and this lonely, difficult life. I need to just accept it and deal with it. I need to take all my hurts and bind them up so they don’t bother me anymore.
I’ve been thinking about Joe and why the f*** he would move HERE, to this state?? There are 50 freaking states! Why this one? Why here? I saw a Minnesota license plate today and became instantly nauseated. It happens almost every single time. There are some Minnesotans at church, one is an individual and the others are a couple. I can’t stand to hear their accents. I hate when they talk. I feel like it’s mean of me to feel that way, but it makes me so uncomfortable. Why the f*** is Joe here? Why? Why would God do that??
Why would God do ANY of this? Why would he see it fit for me to be raped repeatedly beginning at age 9? What in the actual f***?! Why would he make my dad do things to me? Tell me, what does that accomplish? All it does is make me not trust a soul. All it does is hurt and corrode and kill and dissipate my very soul.