The memories are
strong, and my heart is so weak.
Say you love me, please?
The memories are
strong, and my heart is so weak.
Say you love me, please?
I have a need to write. At any given moment, there are hundreds of words bouncing around my brain. Dozens of stories clamor to the front, begging to be told. So whenever I have a spare moment, or when my work gets too boring, I pull out a blank sheet of paper, pick a non-black pen, and write.
Sometimes what comes out weighs a ton. It’s as if I’ve been hoarding every emotion I’ve ever felt. The words tumble out of my pen, nothing strong enough to slow them down.
Sometimes what comes out is light and airy. The words flutter like butterflies, painting pictures as beautiful as their wings. The ideas seem simple at first, but upon closer examination, the intricacies reveal themselves. If you know me well and you read one of these, you’ll be able to understand what it is I’m really saying.
Occasionally I’ll write a poem, and other times it’s a straightforward life update. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I’m just happy to be writing. I love that feeling I get when I craft a particularly good sentence. I live for turning my feelings into black and white pictures. I get a jolt of pleasure whenever I start a new journal. Writing is my favorite thing to do–I want to get better at it.
And so, for these reasons and countless more, I’ve decided I’m going to write a book. It might be a memoir (I just registered for a memoir writing class), maybe a collection of essays, or short stories. Whatever it turns out to be, I know I’ll love creating it. Writing is the only thing for which my love has never wavered.
I’m excited to fall even more in love with it. Wish me luck!
P.S. This is a fitting 100th post, wouldn’t ya say? 😀
Back in June of 2016 I was saved. My older cousin texted me out of the blue and told me about a small group he and his wife ran for adult-ish people. He invited me, but I told him I had plans. I wasn’t doing too well around this time, and the idea of going to a bible study seemed lame and foreign to me. I know I’d said that when I came back home I would try to strengthen my faith, but I wasn’t ready yet.
The next morning when I woke up, though, the first thought to pop in my head was, “I need Jesus.” It was such a clear, definitive thought; if I hadn’t known better I would have thought someone had said it out loud to me. While I got ready for work I forgot about it, but later in the day I was scrolling through my messages and saw the one from cousin again. “Oh yeah,” I thought. “I need Jesus.”
So I sent him a message and told him I’d cancelled my (non-existent) plans and I would be there. He added me to the group’s Facebook message, so I saw that they were reading the book of Acts. I believe it was chapters 12-17, so before I went to the meeting, I pulled over at a gas station, took out my pocket New Testament, and read.
In that part of the book, Peter was in jail (again), and basically God sets him free. Literally breaks the chains around his wrists, and allows Peter to walk out past the guards unscathed. Easy peasy. Because God.
Okay let me explain the mind-blowingness of it.
I was depressed once. I was falling back into depression. And then one random day a couple weeks after being back home, my cousin is like “Come learn about Jesus with this cool group of people!” And first I was like, “Nah,” then I was like, “Okay!” And then there I found myself. In a gas station. On a Friday night. Reading about how God saved Peter from jail.
Are my staccato sentences not doing it for you?
My depression = jail.
God = the way out of jail.
It He was exactly what I needed, and the circumstances were just right for me to accept that. That night, I shared with my new group of brothers and sisters about my depression, about how I felt like this was exactly where I needed to be, about how I felt like God was telling me, “Severn, let me set you free.” After group was over, my cousin’s wife walked me out, and at the bottom of the steps in their apartment building, I was saved.
I know it sounds a bit cliché, but I swear I flew home that night. My car was gliding 10″ above the street, and I felt almost invincible, like I was shrouded in a glowing white light.
After that night, I began to see God in everything. It was amazing how much I could see once I actually opened my eyes. I’ve always believed in God, but I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated him.
God loves us no matter how many times we screw up, whether we sin or don’t sin. All He wants is to love us, even though we break His heart repeatedly. The least we can do is love Him back as best we know how. That’s why I added loving God and living my life to glorify Him to my list of how to become a goddess.
We don’t deserve God’s love, and truthfully it’s not something that can be earned, but I know that if I love and praise Him, the blessings will continue to come down. (More on this later, I promise!)
Alright y’all, here’s what happened with Dapper:
I fell for Beau.
Things were fine and dandy with Dapper, I was going to visit him in Pittsburgh, even, but Beau and I had that night, and we talked for hours, and we kissed. And I was still going to see Dapper–I mean I told Beau about the trip (he already knew about Dapper because we were friends and I told him everything), but I was so stressed about it!
If I went to Pittsburgh, things were sure to happen, and when would I tell Dapper that whatever we had was over? That I met someone I actually see a future with? I didn’t want to wait two whole weeks to officially start dating Beau, and I knew the weekend would’ve been tainted with my guilt. So I asked Dapper to call me when he got a chance, and told him that I met someone, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to go visit anymore.
And of course, like any other time I’ve freaked out and finally told Dapper anything serious or nerve-wracking (for me), he said, “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’m glad you’re doing adult woman things like dating and living.”
Like it wasn’t a big deal.
Like it was okay to put myself and my feelings first.
Like talking to someone I care about–who cares about me– about my feelings isn’t a big deal.
And that was the last thing–the last time–Dapper taught me. I do still feel like he was practice, like he was an important step I had to take before removing my relationship training wheels.
And it really has helped! Boy do I still hate confrontation of any kind, but I’m okay expressing my feelings (good, bad, or in-between) to Beau because I have more faith in the fact that my feelings and thoughts are valid. And that if I need to talk about something, Beau will listen and be accepting.
He is those things: a good listener, patient, accepting. And he cares about me. Deeply, as I do about him. It’s insane to me that we’ve only been dating for a month. Feels more like a year.
Anyway, so that’s what happened with Dapper. We cared about each other, he taught me things, we ended. We still talk occasionally, but just as friends, just to catch up.
Beau has my heart now. Dapper is another finished chapter in the saga of Severn. A good one, but through.
P.S. The bowtie in the featured image is from this website. They’re so cool!
Eventually you will hear more about:
Until next time, my lovelies!
The familiar feeling of numbness is back. What a strange phrase: feeling numb. There are a lot of things that make me feel better: working out, hanging out/drinking with my friends, eating food I know is bad for me, but those are short-lived reliefs.
What I hate the most, though, is how it effects my mother. I have this idea deep down that my depression makes her feel like a failure. It makes me feel guilty, but also just sad.
My mother is not a failure. She is strong and has taught me so much about life and how to be as a person. I talked to her about it last week–I told her I didn’t blame her in any way for my depression. I told her I think she sees how I am and she feels the need to fix me–how could she not, she’s my mother–and when she can’t I can see the hurt and disappointment. I can tell she feels responsible for the unhappy person before her, and that breaks my heart.
To make sure she knew I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t blame her for my depression, I told her that I’ll admit her and my father played a large role in the development of some of my other issues, but not this.
I know that recovering from this is something I have to do for myself, but I also want to do it for her. Because just as I deserve to be happy and the best version of myself, she deserves to feel successful as a mother. I want that for her.
Yes, it puts a little more pressure on me, but I’m okay with it. It’s vaguely positive pressure. Vaguely positive is as good as I can ask for at the moment.
I normally try to keep the specifics of my problems with people in my life vague when I write them on here. That’s pretty much impossible in this case. Well, maybe it’s not. Let me try harder.
An important person in my life is basically purposefully neglecting me on a day we should be spending together. To be fair, he said we would spend some time together soon after this day, but still.
Sidenote: I can think of two situations this scenario can apply to. Vague enough for me.
How his decision makes me feel:
I was very close to crying when he told me.
I told my mom about it–showed her the message, and of course she got upset. As soon as that happened, I was able to calm down. My mother’s anger doesn’t make me happy, but it’s so much easier to be strong for someone else than it is to be strong for myself.
That’s not ideal, but it’s where I am. I calmed her down by listing all the reasons this is actually a good thing. They felt like cheap attempts at neutrality, but they managed to convince her that I wasn’t as hurt as I was. And that made me feel better. Or more in control, at least.
I still haven’t done my therapist research yet, but once I find her I’m going to have a lot to tell her. (My friend Janie is going to refer me to her old therapist who will then refer me to people she thinks will help me!) Hopefully she can help me work through it all. In the meantime, I’m going to try and not let his decision dictate my feelings about myself. There’s also a few things my last therapist, Bristle, taught/told me that I think I would do well to remember:
Also, I think if I were to tell her about this occurrence, she would ask me why I didn’t tell him how I felt. I know that I probably should have, but that seems so much more complicated. (This is why I need a therapist.)
Anywho. *Deep Breath*
Wish me luck with quest for a therapist!
Of faith. Leaps of faith.
Definition (provided by Google): an act of believing in or attempting something whose existence or outcome cannot be proved.
I rarely make these leaps. The closest I come to actual leaps of faith is sharing my feelings with people I’m really scared to share my feelings with. I never know how they’re going to react, or treat me afterward, and I find that uncertainty terrifying.
Yesterday, I finally addressed that decision I had to make with the person it involved. It literally took me hours to muster up the courage to just text him to see if he was free to talk. I was sweating, hyperventilating, my heart was speeding, and I cried at various points throughout the morning.
I didn’t feel like there was anyone I could talk to about my anxiety because there was honestly nothing they could do about it. They would tell me to calm down, and that it’ll be fine, as they have in the past. I realize now that what I needed was to borrow someone’s confidence. I needed someone to tell me, “You can do this, Severn. You are a strong grown woman who can handle ABSsolutely anything.” Repeating these things to myself had little to no effect.
Eventually, I made the call and talked for, like, 45 seconds before he said, “Don’t even sweat it, I already expected this.” And it wasn’t sassy, or passive aggressive; he honestly was not upset at my decision. I was so relieved, I cried. And I realized how irrational my fears were. Of course he wants me to talk to him about my feelings. He’s rejected them/me in the past (which is why I was so scared to share this time), but he’s determined to keep the past in the past, and I think this was my first real evidence that I can start to open up again. This is proof that our relationship can actually be rebuilt, and that it can even be somewhat functional.
Though my leap of faith was small in the greater scheme of the world, it was huge to me. Opening up is one of those things I’m just not comfortable doing. But when I decided to take a chance, I was rewarded. And next time, the distance to leap will be smaller.
I can’t explain why my emotions are all over the place today, but they are, and it’s exhausting. The worst part is that my day is nowhere near over. I’m running my psych study until 8:30pm, and I have rehearsal from 11pm-12:30am.
All I really want to do is go home and go to sleep, but unfortunately, my schedule will not allow it. *cough cough count your blessings, Severn cough*
I have 37 days until graduation. Sounds exciting, right? But I think the low number is actually doing more bad for me than good. Instead of wanting to work hard and push through, I just want it to be done! And the senioritis is bad.
A typical day’s range of emotions are: bleh, happy, guilty, sad, happy, lonely, confused, bleh, does hunger count as an emotion?, happyish.
Today’s range of emotions (so far): bleh, exhaustion, happyish, bleh, anger, rage, bleh, lonely, anger, hunger is counting as an emotion, neutral, guilty, confused, unsure, bleh.
What I’m going to do to make the rest of the day less excruciating:
Alrighty, I’m gonna go hydrate and deep breathe now.