be blessed (for Mami)

Today marks 10 years that my mother has passed. I've tried so hard to come up with a meaningful idea to memorialize my mother on this day. But I can't.

My heart is full of so many emotions. And my mind keeps going back to that day so many years ago. 

I was holding my mother when she took her last breath. She died in my arms. When my mother took her last breath, I knew it. I can still hear my scream echoing in my ears.

We were rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. I had to sit with a social worker; and the Chaplin was there also. With his comforting words. To this day I still don't understand why he would say those words to a young person who had just lost their parent minutes before.

I can't remember her voice or her touch or the smell of her hair. I can't remember hardly anything about her. Except for that day.

Deep down, I still secretly blame myself. I was 17 years old, I was scared and freaked out. I didn't want to leave her side. I didn't want to leave her alone. She would have hated that. So I stayed by her side instead of calling for help.

I hated myself for that, for years. And still do, sometimes.

I'd like to think she'd like who I've become. That she'd be proud of me. But honestly, I don't know. I don't think she would... I'm so different then that young girl. I have so many more scars.

But one thing I do know. She'd tell me to stop crying, to whip my eyes and to keep moving forward. "Stop being stupid." She'd say. "Don't look at me, look to God."

My mom was a strong God-fearing women. I remember every morning before school,  she would pray over my coming and going. Pray a hedge of protection over me. That God would keep me safe. I know, without a doubt, that her prayers are the reason why I'm still here. Why I'm alive.

Yes, it's been a decade since she passed. But her faith and prayers are still going strong. And touching me still.

I might hate what I did. And I might hate this day. And I might not be able to remember anything. And she might not like who I've become. But she loved me so much, that her love is still reaching me now, 10 years later.

Maybe that's something to celebrate. Instead of mourning.

"This is the day the Lord has made; 

We will rejoice and be glad in it." 

- Psalm 118:24 New King James Version

Be blessed. I hope you have a grand glorious day.

Triggering Thoughts

I find myself on a daily basis fighting back regretful memories, who've found their way to the forefront of my consciousness. But the last few days, I feel like I've been spending half my day replaying the regrets of my life. I literally had to yell at myself, out loud, this afternoon to stop.
I've caught myself placing my finger nails to my skin to scratch deeply. I've been able to stop myself right before I do it.

I've also caught myself placing the side of my hand against my forearm; then moving down quickly in a cutting motion.

It's crazy what our bodies can do without us noticing it. Involuntary spasms, that we've picked up, that come out at the oddest moments.

I'm edgy, the littlest things are triggering me. They're not sending me off the edge, but they're causing me to act out.

My body is reacting in self-destructive ways to the emotional stress, without my knowledge.
It's rather scary.

I've also been chanting "I want to die" or "I want to kill myself" more the past few days. Is it odd that on a 'normal' day, I say these phrases at least twice a day?

Overcoming and recovering from self-destructive patterns and depression is a hard and long path. It can be overwhelming and all consuming. You can run yourself in circles and into the ground, trying to keep your head above water.

At moments it's terrifying and unsatisfying. And it's so easy to give up; to call 'mercy' and to lie in the dirt. 

When I Met You

April and July are hard months for me. April the month my mom was born; and July the month she died. This year marks 10 years that she’s been with God. It feels so much longer; I can hardly remember her. She’s been gone almost half my life.

My moms’ twin, aunt Stella (who I was named after), really struggled with my mom’s passing in the beginning. After years of therapy and healing, my aunt is finally on the “acceptance” stage of grief. I feel like I’ve reverted to the “depression” stage. I know grief can be a cycle; we can cycle in and out of the stages of grief.

It’s really hard for me to deal with this.

I did so well when my mom passed. I truly believed (and still do) that God had a purpose for taking my mom. It was easy for me to “work through” the stages of grief after she passed. I did it in one night actually.

One long, late, tear-filled night.

A week or so after God took my mom. I sat in my room, listened to music and with my emotions fresh, I unleashed all of my thoughts and emotions to God. I remember so vividly, sitting in a corner, the tears running down my face, hitting the floor and yelling at God. I’d randomly get up, pace my room, hit the closet, kick my bed, and scream into a pillow.

“Why God? Why did you do THIS?!”

“Why did you take her?”

“Why couldn’t I save her?”

I’ve struggled with the guilt of not saving my mom on and off since her passing; but that’s a story for another journal entry.

I remember staying up past 3am. I gave all my hurt, pain, anger and questions to God and He filled me with peace and gave me reassurance that I would be okay.

This is why cycling through the stages of grief is hard for me. I know God healed my hurt. I know God took my pain. I know God was in the room with me when I was grieving.

God hurt with me. God grieved with me.

And it’s not that I still don’t believe that. I know I’m healed. God took my brokenness and put me back together.

I am healed. But, I’m also human.

Just because I cycle in and out of grief, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust God. It means I love my mom.

 And that I miss her.

“I remember the moment, I remember the pain
I was only a girl, but I grew up that day
Tears were falling
I know You saw me

Hiding there in my bedroom, so alone
I was doing my best, trying to be strong
No one to turn to
That's when I met You

All this time, from the first tear cried
'Till today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there, You were always there
It was You and I
You've been walking with me all this time”

Song: “All This Time” by Britt Nicole

The stages of grief

Shallow Breathes

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Everything will be okay.

I feel like I’m slowly suffocating. And some days, like today, it feels like the plastic around my head is crumbled and twisted. My little pocket of air is taken from me; I gasp for air trying to breathe, but all I get is plastic. Then the plastic is released and it relaxes and I can take shallow breathes again. But I can never fully fill my lungs.

I’m trying to survive.

It seems like that’s all I ever do.

Untitled

I've been working on this picture for a few days now.

As in all heart drawing I make. The heart is mine. You see the outside red shell of the heart and then the inside of the heart is put into three pieces. This can represent God, the Holy Spirit and Jesus. Or, it could be what makes up my heart: God, my emotions/mind and my environment.

The heart has locked itself into a dark box. And has placed up "protective" tools to keep the box intact. An umbrella is set on top of the box to protect it from the holy cleansing water of the Spirit. And a metal sheet is placed on the side of the box to protect it from the renewing fire of the Spirit.

There's something missing, in the left corner; but I can't see it just yet. And I don't have a title for it either.

But just looking at the picture and seeing what it represents, is frightening. After everything I've done and been through. After all the stages of my heart. I'm still keeping it locked up, under protection and away from God.

Why? Why am I doing that?

Need You Now

This past week was very hard for me, mentally. I had a lot of ‘dark’ moments this past week and even a few scary ones. I feel like I have cut myself off from people the last year and half.

Ever since I left Texas, I feel like I don’t communicate with people on a deeper level as much. I’ll admit, when I was in Colorado, I was in a DEEP depression. I HATED Colorado. I was always down, depressed and lonely. I felt so isolated. And when I tried to share with people that I normally shared with, I felt like they didn’t have time for me or just didn’t care – out of sight, out of mind. I felt deep in my soul that I had somehow burned all of my bridges by moving away.

Now, I knew that God was calling me to Colorado, so I followed where He lead. I know, that I needed that alone time with God. The years I was in Texas I was surrounded by people. I constantly had someone watching over me/my back. I had a lot of people to be accountable to. I had a good amount of mentors/spiritual leaders I could look up to and ask for help/advice. I knew this was a test for me to see how well I could do on my own. And I know, to an extent, I failed it. However, the Lord did show and teach me a lot at that time.

The Lord showed me that I wouldn’t crash, burn and die without a ton of people helping me/keeping a close eye on me. I would only crash and burn – from time to time. He showed me that I could provide for myself and that I could do things on my own. With how much I hated Colorado, I still believe without a doubt that I was supposed to go there. Why? Because it brought me home, back to Cali.

When I lived in Texas, I was terrified to move back to Cali. I was so afraid to move back into this house, my dad’s house. Before I left Cali and went to Texas a lot of bad things went down in this house. And I was so frightened that the things that happened before I left would continue to happen. But by me moving to Colorado, it made me realize who really had my back – my family. And that’s when I realized it was time for me to come back home, it was time for me to face the demons that were laughing in my face and it was time for me to confront the things I had run away from.

So, here I am, back in Cali stronger than I was before I left but still not strong enough. I am happier then when I was in Colorado and I’m not as depressed. I feel a little more like myself. But I still feel isolated, I still feel like my bridges are burnt and I am still lonely. And to be honest, I think I feel the loneliest I have ever felt.

I am constantly reminded by God, the music I listen to and by a handful of friends that I am important, loved and that I am a Fighter. But even with looking back at everything I’ve overcome, worked through and have learned – I feel like it doesn’t matter because all I see is an ugly overweight girl in her mid-twenties wasting her life. Who is STILL struggling with things in her past and has to remind herself on a daily basis that she cannot run from life and can’t have a “do-over.”

This past week, I scared myself very badly. For the first time, in about a year, I heavily thought about harming myself and I started a suicide plan. And all I could think of was that I had no one to talk to or to help me because I had burnt all my bridges and no one really cared if I lived or died.

So I sat in my room, with the door closed and rocked myself on my bed while listening to music and repeated to myself “I am loved and precious.”And I somehow was able to calm myself down enough to go to bed.

I feel like no matter what I do or what I overcome I will ALWAYS be this ugly overweight girl who struggles, alone, with the thought of harming or killing herself.

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now.
-‘Need You Now (How Many Times)’ by Plumb

Bucket List

I’ve been browsing through a Tumblr account for a few hours now, it’s a collection of ‘Bucket List’ pictures. Pictures with words across them depicting what you would like to do/accomplish in your life before you die.

As I look through all these pictures I found some odd, some creepy, some uninteresting and some heartfelt. Some of them I’ve already ‘accomplished’ in my life, things that I never would have thought to be ‘life changing’ or something to ‘aim towards.’

These last few months have been hard on me, mentally. I seem to find myself feeling trapped, useless and aimless. I feel like I’m failing myself, failing God. These last few years have not gone how I had planned or hoped for. I feel like I’m stuck, stuck in a rut not making any traction towards improving myself.

I feel like I’m wasting my life, and to be honest, I’m starting to believe it.

I might have done all these ‘amazing’ things in my past, but I’m not doing anything with my present or for my future. I’m splashing in stagnant water with no earnest motive to get out.

So here I sit, listening to anthems and reading inspirational pictures to rediscover enthusiasm to continue on…

Source.

To see my Bucket List click here.

There’s a thing called ‘DUSTING’

I try to trick myself on a daily basis that I’ve come to terms with my mother’s passing. Some days I can even convince myself that it was the best thing for her (she was in so much pain). But sometimes, I can’t sell myself the lie.

Today I’ve spent a good part of the day packing up my mom’s left over belongings. After seven years they’re still key objects that haven’t been packed yet. I picked up an angel figuring that I remember use to sit in different locations in my parents room. Mom moved it around all the time, I think she just loved to look at it, as do I.

I picked it up off the shelf and I said a little prayer out loud, “Lord, please don’t let any of these things break.” I placed the angel on my bed to grab newspaper to wrap it in – and then, I stood in shock and terror as it rolled off the bed and bounced on the carpet towards the tile hallway. I knew if it bounced on the tile that it would break. “Don’t break!” I cried out as it stopped a few inches away from the tile. I rushed to the angel’s side, held it in my hands and to my chest .Then, I had a panic attack.

As I stood there, holding the angel tight to my heart, I tried to remember how to breathe and cried heavily. As I became frantic I prayed a pleading prayer, “Please God, don’t let anything break! Please don’t let anything break. Please God! Don’t let anything break!... It’s all I have left… It’s all you’ve left me…”

I sat on the bed, still holding the angel close to my heart as a memory came back to me.

I was about 13 or 14; mom and I were Spring-cleaning my room. Mom was up on a ladder dusting off the shelves above my window, she had been picking on me all afternoon about how dusty my room was. “There’s a thing called dusting, you know,” she repeated over and over as we both laughed and giggled.

I sat on the bed smiling slightly as I heard her playful tone, “There’s a thing called dusting! Gosh Stella!”

The Lord has left me more than just her belongings. He left me happy memories of our time together and a sense of knowing that He cares for me and mourns with me.

Beautiful with my Scars

"Fear: That my depression will defeat & define me.

Dream: To be able to say I'm beautiful with my scars."
Source: To Write Love On Her Arms
I’m not ashamed of my scars. And I hope that I never will be. My scars are who I am. They’ve helped make and mold me into whom I am today.

I don’t glorify them however, I’m not proud that I placed them on my skin. I don’t try to justify or defend them. I know that placing a blade to my skin wasn’t smart, and that it didn’t take away the pain. I know now that self-harm and suicide doesn’t solve or help. It’s a rotting Band-Aid that only infects.

I struggle on a constant basis with my depression and sadness. I’ll admit this past week I thought about cutting and suicide. I even played with the idea for a second. One second. And then the second second, I realized what I was doing and I immediately repented and forced myself to think different thoughts.

I’m afraid that I will allow myself to believe in the lie that ‘cutting is okay.’ I’m afraid that I will become deeply depressed and that I will truly consider suicide as the ‘only option.’ I’m afraid that all my hurt, pain and turmoil was for ‘nothing.’ I’m afraid that I will live my life uneventfully and that I will not lead anyone to Christ. I’m afraid of wasting my life…

But then I look at my scars and I remember that I survived. I remember that I’m a Forsaken Fighter. And I remember that God healed my broken Heart for a reason. And that gives me hope.

Hope, that maybe, breathing is enough.
For now.

---

To Write Love On Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for those struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire, and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery. - Taken off the TWLOHA Facebook page.

My Heart Belongs to Texas

It’s been a very long time since I’ve really blogged. Sure, I’ve done a few posts the past year documenting past memories. But I haven’t written anything with purpose.

I can’t remember the last time I did an ‘update blog.’ The last time I wrote a blog about what God has done in my life. Or written a blog about what God has taught me. I also haven’t really done any art or read any books. I haven’t done anything artsy or creative.

This past year, I lost myself. The self I worked so hard to find. The self, that took me months to rummage through crap to find. The self that I cried, screamed and fought to set free. I lost her.

I know some might think: “Don’t be so dramatic.” No, I’m not being dramatic and I’m not over reacting. I’m not the person I was when I left Texas. I’m not the happy go lucky, energetic, God loving girl I was when I left. I’ve reverted back to ‘Stella and Star.’

I’m not completely like how I was. I don’t think I could fully be that person again. I changed so much in Texas. I matured in Texas. But I have re-picked up a lot of the characteristics of ‘Stella and Star.’

I woke up this morning with a burning desire to return to Texas. I woke up and the first thing in my mind was that I must go back. I have to go home.

I miss Texas. I miss my friends and the family I created. I miss being around a support system and people that I know love me. I miss feeling safe and protected.

I love Texas. It will always be my home.

Keep Fighting.

I've become extremely irritable, inwardly, the last few weeks. I find myself on the edge of my nerves and cringing over simple mistakes. My conscience is struggling with itself. And my spirit - is weakly trying to defend itself.

I think the stress of moving to a new city and state is finally getting to me. I'm trying so hard to adjust to my new environment but fear, depression and the lack of confidence is getting the best of me.

I constantly have to remind myself that I am not weak. I’m not powerless. I am confidante. I am strong. And I can overcome.

I refuse to give in. I refuse back down. I refuse to quit.

But I am becoming weak. And I'm losing confidence.

I constantly have to remind myself that past copping skill are not good. They are not healthy. And they do nothing.

I also have to remind myself to believe it.

How?

The last few days, have been very difficult emotionally. I’m having a very hard time trying to process everything.

My emotions have been in every direction, one extreme to the other and now – I’m just worn out. I’m tired, exhausted and devastated. And I have no clue where to go from here.

I feel empty, used and discarded.

I feel… Like I lost a life that I never got the chance to live. A beautiful gift shown to me on a golden platter with a big red bow and then it was quickly escorted away to a back room to never be seen again.

Why does life taunt us so? How does it know exactly what we want, what we crave, and what we desire? And how does it know in what way to steal it from us, to break our hearts, and cripple us from ever wanting to try again.

How does it know?

And how do I lower my expectations?

After Care

After my first hospitalization I was sent to an outpatient group. One of the projects that you were required to do was to make a bored explaining who you were.

Some of the points you had to hit on were:
~friends
~family
~how you saw yourself
~how you wanted to improve
~and how you saw a “high power”


I broke my board into three pieces: Stella (bottom right), Star (upper left) and Stella Star (center). At this point in my life, I saw myself as three separate people. Stella was the person that I thought everyone wanted me to be. Star was the inner crazy-psychotic girl hiding in the closet. And Stella Star was who I wanted to be, a mixture and combination of the two.

Being true to myself, the board is full of mixed media (ribbon, pictures, clippings, songs, poems, etc). Clippings from Ignite Your Faith Magazine (no-longer published) is used greatly; this magazine meant a lot to me – so it was important that it made the board. Another important item that made the board was my mother’s memory flier handed out at her funeral (in the Stella section).

Looking at the board now I realize that in some aspects I’m still the same, but I have changed greatly. It’s amazing to see how much I’ve changed in four years. This board still means a lot to me, it was who I was and how I felt at that time. It’s a part of my history and I hope to never forget it.


Focusing on the "Star" section.

This section of the board was made black, to represent how I felt – lost, alone and in the dark. This section also has my “glass.” It’s the analogy of the glass half empty or full. I had the glass half full and then wrote words around it of what I wanted to fill it with. Things I wanted to do with my life to make it more full and joyful.


Focusing on the “Stella” section.

This section of the board was made pink, to represent joy and happiness – something I wasn’t feeling. By the way, I hate pink. This section of the board represented what I thought everyone wanted me to be. What I thought was expected of me. What I thought I had to be. But because I couldn’t be it, I pretended a lot. I tried my hardest to place this façade up of what “Stella” should be.


Focusing on the “Stella Star” section.

This section of the board was made purple, to represent my favorite color – to represent the real me. This section of the board holds a lot of my core being: music, art, writing, God and friends/family. This board also holds my “Todd corner.” Todd Hertz was a very influential tool in my life that the Lord used. Todd was the first person I opened up to and was my main mentor in my life for many years. In the middle of this section, is a printed out copy of the lyrics to “Wishes and Dreams” by Stellar Kart. A song that I still aspire to have a romance of.


To view more pictures of my After Care board you can go here.

Harvert ALREADY!!

My ever changing life seems to be making yet another turn in a direction I couldn't see - in the dark. And now that I have my eyes slightly more focused I’m still just as confused and unsure.

I’m starting a new season in my life and after the summer I had, of emotional and mental turmoil, I was thrilled to see that the new season had started with promise. A new car, new found freedom, another move and the possibility of a new job; things seemed to finally be going well. And now here I am, sitting making tip-tap sounds on my computer feeling sad and alone.

I moved in with another family a few weeks ago. It seems the more I want to move back to Lindale, the further I move away from it. Now I’m living in Van, TX in a house I’m still trying to adjust to and missing the family I just became a part of. And now that the school year has started again, I’m seeing less and less of my friends that I become dependent on over the summer.

Thoughts from my past have been popping back in my mind lately. The sweet whispers of self-gratification, lust and death ring in my vulnerable ears. They linger in my confused mind causing my thoughts to summersault and my spirit to be on high alert reminding itself of God’s promises.

Sometimes, like now, it feels like all I have in this world is me and Thomas. That everyone around me has a purpose, a life, a journey – and I’m on the sidelines watching. Watching as I bounce around in stupidity and ignorance.

Seasons are hard - I wish the harvest would come already.

Soul-Less

Follow the sickly sweet voice down the slope of slumber.
Rest and relax in death.
Think of nothing but yourself.
How you feel, what satisfies you, your secret sins of destruction.
Nothing else matters. You can't change the world.
You're a flickering light at its wicks end.

You've given me your soul; didn't you know?

R2D2

How often do we say words that we don't mean? We might mean them to be true. Our hearts might be honest in speaking words of hope, love, care and encouragement; but how often do we say words without thinking? We say cliches and phrases; things that have become automatic to us. "How are you?" "God Bless." "Love you." But our heart and love is truly not behind the words we say. Our minds and hearts do not connect.

We have become robotic.  

New Beginnings

Starting a new blog was rather frightening to me, I have to admit. My writings are very precious and special to me; so leaving a journal is like me abandoning one of my children (not that I know what it’s like to have children…).

But the Lord showed me a lot and held my hand tight as I made the transition over. Why was it so hard for me to switch blogs? I will never know. Maybe it’s because I became dependent on that blog (even though I didn’t update it much – still REALLY sorry about that). Or maybe, because it’s symbolizing me leaving all those things that I struggled with before coming to Teen Mania (and struggled with at the beginning) and continuing to mature and grow in the Lord and his plan for my life.

It’s exciting and frightening staying another two years at Teen Mania; but I’m excited to see what will come out of it.