Reality. (300 words)

Pull me back to reality. Because as of right now—I have given my whole attention to this alternate universe that only leaves me feeling incomplete. I stand up in my unhappiness, and look around. Seeing the anger and frustration I chose to bury.

Wondering if I will ever find my way back out.

Now, the ground quakes with rage and I know it is only a matter of time before I crumble beneath this pressure of my own doing. Eventually, we all must answer for the raw nerves we neglected to cover. But I am never given the opportunity.

When I am not actively healing, I like to believe I am living in a place where nothing goes wrong. I sleep through the night and spend productive days hoping to “do better” when the chance comes my way. I pick up my cross and carry on.

But I am just as broken as I was last year when I had to accept that I was on my own.

Some nights I dream of the innocent souls I sacrificed for illicit conversation. I think of the crimes I committed when I was unrecognizable to even me. Most people do not try to see the full picture. I am guilty of focusing on the side that favored my parts in the story.

It means nothing to say you will be there, or to pledge allegiance when you do not have to prove yourself. It is easy to believe you are the martyr, when you refuse to acknowledge another person’s scars.

I am guilty of caring too much about other people. And I am guilty of not doing more for my self. But I will set this Earth on fire, before I burn my light out for anyone else.

Even the Righteous Need Breaks.

I wonder what happens to beautiful souls who lose their courage to the bitter realities of life. A part of me knows decisions are made that subtract from happiness and cause undesirable consequences–but another part of me cannot begin to analyze the cost. Instead, I look out of my window at clouds that promise oncoming cold and heavy, relentless rain. Because even nature releases its burden before it starts all over again.

The cycle of life reminds us of how precious time is while we attempt to live out our plans and work towards individual designs. We are planners and organizers. Dreamers who spend hours thinking of ways to get the very best of everything. Yet sometimes, we intentionally procrastinate against the necessary hard work required of us. Turning our backs on the truth of who we are.

jencosby_blog_inspiration_lessonsThere are times of testing that give way to amazing moments that we could have never achieved without grace. In these difficult moments we forget what is important and get defensive when our ideal is lost. When I personally measured my commitment to others I found I could have done more when my friends were hurting. Instead, I chose to bury my head in the sand and act as if nothing was happening. I ignored those public posts and dismissed their agonizing cries for attention–assuming that a person who needed help would just come out and ask for it. But it is difficult to anticipate help when you are ashamed of your actions.

For the better part of a year I ran from every single one of my callings. I dug in deep with isolation and spent quality time in my own self-imposed rejection. At the time, I felt wounded by so many things that I became accustomed to and accepting of pain. It became a daily habit for me to wake up and go through the day like a zombie–oblivious to the hurt I was feeling. Eventually, that hurt became a part of the way I communicated. I lashed out and broke confidence with people who wanted more for and from me. Now, I realize I could do nothing for them unless I wanted more for myself.IMG_2204

Now that I want more I need to take consistent steps in the right direction. It means I cannot run from difficult conversations or fill silence with resentment and apathy. My calling requires me to be active in the pursuit of my emotional, physical and mental health. When I am wrong, I must admit it and walk down the path towards reconciliation and forgiveness. Likewise, if someone hurts me (accidentally or not) it is up to me to be honest about my feelings.

What they choose to do with my truth is NOT my responsibility.

 

This is Not a Test. (300 words)

eyes, brows, prose, reflection, thoughts, emotions

You have always been quite unreasonable. Setting rules of entitlement long before I understood the meaning of war. Elder members in our family naturally sit higher up. They expect every new recruit to listen and believe with child-like passiveness and misguided awe. Something I am not liable to do without just cause. I am evidence you cannot choose your history because I always found my way back into your presence no matter how far I tried to run. It angers me to admit the ease I felt when all was well.

Saddens me to concede that it never lasted for long.

I spent wasteful time reflecting on the trials of the past and what I could have done differently. Children are not the authors of their fate and have no choice but to follow their leaders blindingly. My earliest memories of fights between the people closest to me ultimately led to the division of our home. Depression ran deep while dissension cycled turbulently through our blood. And this was not enough. There were nights I struggled to come to terms with the new structures laid out for me. I may have wanted things outside of your capacity to give, but this does not mean what I asked for was wrong.

You were a dark and unyielding eclipse in the middle of my sunny day. The tears that have fallen offered more comfort than you have ever shown this face. Did you ever think it possible to see me for who I was? Or was your allegiance mine only as long as you did not have to pay the cost?

I survey the wounds I used to keep inside that now the world can see.

Wondering what part of this was all your fault and how much of it was me.

What is meant for warmth, should never burn.

nature, selflove, sun, warmth, life, inspiration

I am at a crossroads. On a new path that is twisting at the same time the fog is lifting. I know which way I need to go, but I can’t help but to look back at the carnage that lay behind me. I survey the lessons I learned and the people who stopped or who I threw off my path.
Spending too much time with my idle thoughts.

For a long time I believed I was lost. Doomed to roam aimlessly on a mountain under a cloud of dark. Never fully knowing if I was being rescued or just wandering further off the course. I understand now, that my trepidation made no difference.

I keep trying to “look ahead” towards this beautiful existence I am promised from the One who has the final say. For awhile I maintained a stubborn resistance to any option that took me away from what I wanted to do. Now I find peace in dealing with pain more gracefully.
Choosing not to let my heart grow hard.

It is bad enough I planted my feet in a fixed position that was never any good for me. Giving more than I planned and getting less than what I should have received. It is terrible I entertained thoughts that betrayed the ones closest to me. The consequences of which, still manifest sometimes in my dreams.

I still believe that what is supposed to be will eventually be. That you will be unable to completely forget those who left lasting marks on you. But I know when circumstances  force someone from my life it is for the best–even if this loss is painful for me.

I may not ever understand why, but I am fully determined to move forward with my life.

False Comets and Shooting Stars.

comet, art, galaxy, shooting stars

You know me.

Fully capable of
compressing complicated
feelings into eloquent
yet brief, observations.

Writing from
my heart in the
midst of any situation.

Turning avid doubters into
steadfast and hopeful
believers who, are willing
to follow me down
into the darkest tombs
without question
or concern for consequence.

I am breaking my neck
just to get back
to my personal
baseline–praying
I will not
be forgotten
if there is ever
a next time.

Menacing thoughts
crowd an otherwise
stable constitution–
Hovering passively
while I force this
unwelcome presence
from my mind.

Slowly, I cut loose
the illicit soul ties
I crossed–
while improperly
connected to a
person who was
never. 
completely.
mine.

Retracting my confidence of
the moment
I thought–
I was
ever
in love
with you.

 

18. Making Your Choice.

 

There is such a thing as physical heart pain. Most people just choose not to talk about it. The heart acts as a muscle. It stretches and adapts under the weight of new experience. When we encounter positive things, the heart flourishes and opens responsively. Likewise, after prolonged exposure to negativity–the heart will naturally contract defensively. This is a protective measure when hurt becomes impossible to bear.

No one should judge another person’s reaction to hurt and pain. We all have different expectations and dreams. A consistent staple in your life may be a distant, silent longing for someone else. It is easy to take what we have for granted. In our pursuit for ideal and the all elusive happiness–we forget to take inventory. We lose sight of our blessings in the face of loss.

My message is simple: Breathe in, breathe out.

When anxiety rears up in your chest and your heart beats fast…breathe in.
When pain overwhelms your consciousness and you feel stuck…breathe out.
When the bully in your mind tells you lies about who you’ll never be..breathe in.
When hope escapes and darkness squeezes tightly around your heart…breathe out.

Do not let the still, small, voice suffocate under layers of doubt.

Your job, your goal–in the midst of any undesirable circumstance is to pull yourself out. The most powerful thing you can do for yourself under severe pressure and growing impatient is to remain calm. Inspect everything. The shows you watch, the books you read, the people you meet. Eliminate anything subtracting from your peace. Explore the temporary emotions you feel now. Dissect the conversation between your soul and your mind.

What you choose to believe will be evident in your life. 

Ask yourself:
Who is this voice screaming, you are not good enough? Why is it easier to run with this self-deprecating dialogue?

Honestly, disappointment changes everything. We make mistakes and pay the real price for being wrong–time. We give our time and power to people we love and who we want to love us. But when things do not work in your favor, when you are forced to shift direction–you cannot move forward without healing from the inside out. Survivors are known to put on a brave face. But life is more than dressing up wounds and taking scars out on the town.

Sometimes you have to grab the red-shirt. Get physical, mental, emotional therapy.

And sit down.

Maybe you even sit out the whole season.

I know, I know. You are the star player and everyone is counting on you. If you do not play this game you will never forgive yourself. Your career will be over. Your faith arraigned. This voice becomes so loud that you insist on putting your injured self back on the roster. Make no mistake, an injured player can in fact play. But you are not your best. And you risk your own necessary healing when you refuse to rest. No game is worth the rest of your life.

Healing requires you to take your time. Time to learn, to process, to grow. Healing will ask you to make better decisions. It will ask you to let go of toxic relationships and go on new, beneficial journeys. Healing is the soul’s intervention when you have buried yourself in the mud. Healing is a complete stop, in a world that is constantly turning.

But once you take the time to invest in your self, you will find you could not be happier anywhere else.

100% Chance of Rain.

While you rage against the machinations of fate, take care at the dose of humility knocking on the front door of your heart. Not one contemptuous breath will pass once THAT door is opened. So just breathe. Take a moment to study everything. Stop trying. Stop insinuating. Let all the chips you’ve refused to drop fall, finally into place.

I rejected change. Held on too tightly to a past diluted with rose colored glasses. And a future masked by nimbo-stratus clouds on what should have been a perfectly sunny day. Weather reports are not suggestions. But it is a choice to opt out of the stalemate of pride.
Rain is necessary if you want your crop to survive.

I survey one moot point while digesting this silent insubordination:

No One. Owes You. Anything.

I still find a way to resentfully brood; fully knowing I so desperately need hydration. Looking up at those same clouds alive with lightning and thunder, threatening my every move. I do not want to be swallowed by darkness, but I struggle on the thin line of recovery–while walking towards the safety of the light. Little hands reach for me through the depths of the shadows, but I stand rebelliously between the promise of death and the burden of life.

It was never up to me to decide.
Pain is necessary if you want your crop to survive.