tbt, rip

      
 

 

angel

With the residue of Robin William's death still on my mind, I drove by this old movie theater this morning, the cheap movie place, and it reminded me. A bunch of bunch of years ago, this same theater.  Rainy summer night.  Went to a movie with my suicidal, bipolar friend, as well as a group of others from our church singles group.  It was some kind of action movie with some emotional parts in it.  Apparently something in the movie struck a chord... (and no pun intended, but btw he was also an artist, a bass player, played in a worship band, also loved cranking up smooth jazz and gospel music in his Washington-plated car..) Something broke inside him as we were walking out with the crowds towards the parking lot that rainy night.  He broke into a torrent of sobs, couldn't go on.  We stopped beneath a  tree while the rain poured down, on the trees as well, as his tears drenched my shoulder.  It was the oddest kind of embarrassment, as people awkwardly walked around us, just standing there for what felt like hours, him sobbing like a baby, unabashedly, this grown man, bawling his eyes out.  yet I couldn't pull myself out of his grip, so at a loss for what to do, yet a part of me could understand completely.  no words.

Fast-forward to about a year later.  Our relationship had ended awhile back, when he wisely realized that he was in an unhealthy place and shouldn't be dragging me along, so he let me go.  So we meet again at this worship concert. Between sets he comes right up to me, completely ignoring the person i was with, (which annoyed this person as he doesn't like to go impolitely unnoticed), he skips the small talk and just gazes at me like I'm a ghost.  It's like he's looking right through me, as if he had already left this earth and was looking at me from a spiritual place.  And he keeps telling me that I'm his little angel, I'm his angel.  And it's another horrendously awkward moment as my un-addressed, completely ignored date looks on, frustrated by this guy standing here just gushing about me being an angel, which must not have made any sense, it didn't even register to me until weeks later, after his tragic death. 

 It was then, after his suicide, that I pondered these outpourings and realized that maybe, just maybe, the time I'd spent with him that year ago in the past- those days of just listening to him share his pain while staring at that same wall, those many nights visiting him in the mental hospital, 

those many awkward moments of standing by him when he went into one of his weird emotional breakdowns in public, when I wanted to run and hide...maybe that's why he called me his angel, because I stuck by his side when he needed someone the most.  

Even though I lost him in the end, sometimes I think..that maybe a part of me is up there in heaven already, dancing on high, with that bass down low...

Just a little memoir of a friend, as we mourn the losses of those that go the way of Robin Williams, and as we feel the pain of their families.  

I almost didn't post this, but then as I drove the span of 10 minutes down the road, there were 2 songs on the radio about angels, so it felt like a sign.  One was You're My Angel by Aerosmith...                                                              

                                                              You're my angel
                                                              Come and save me tonight
                                                              You're my angel
                                                              Come and make it all right

                                                              

...and the other was this one by Ed Sheeran:

It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
To fly, fly
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly
For angels to die

fight like a girl

just saving this for future reference...may get back to this later.  (fingers twitching, glancing at my boxing gloves hanging by the door...let's go already!!!!)

1951-2014

People are asking "why" was Robin Williams depressed or what caused him to take his life. Tortured artists are often some of the funniest people you meet. You can be funny and still be fighting some horrendous inner demons. Please remember that for every Robin Williams, there are thousands of regular people on the brink of tragedy. When someone is going through the depths of their inner hell, take time to listen...don't be afraid of walking through the storm with them...don't try to fix them...just be a presence.   ***

Just sharing.  It's such a dichotomy; the people with the funniest side one day can be the darkest, most miserable person the next.  You may want to just pass them off as being weird, because you don't understand them.   That makes sense.  But is it kind or compassionate? Or to ask that infamous question, What Would Jesus Do?  I know there is a flurry of activity on the internet regarding this topic right now, so I won't repeat anymore of what's  being said.  Just adding my "amen" to those who ask us to please be kind, don't judge, and get help if you're one of us.  I want to say "just get Jesus" because I know how my faith in Christ keeps me holding on, but I don't want to sound trite.  Like the priests who shuffled past the beaten man lying on the ground, telling him to "be well", but not going out of their way to help him, not wanting to risk getting dirty, and besides, that person was one of "them".  I don't want to just throw out the name of Jesus for people to paste onto their problems, without my caring enough to enter those dark spaces myself, with them.  I've walked alongside the path of someone who eventually took his life.  I can vaguely attest to knowing their pain, as well as from my own personal experiences of it.  Life goes on around you,  but you feel so alone and already dead.  Please, at least say a real prayer for those who suffer inwardly.  And may you go on with your day in peace.  thanks for listening.

***by Trea Kimball  (copy-pasted from her original post on Facebook)

shmadloids

saw this at the grocery check-out this morning.  article about kim k. (i know, i know, tabloids, shmadloids, rags & paparazzi....but still...)   all i can say is wow.

and, "i know we're nothing alike otherwise, but kim, i feel for you.."

and, why is it that when someone famous reveals this, people believe it because it's on the cover of a magazine, but when some everyday nobody reveals their similar situation, they just get sent to a shrink to try to "fix" them, (which doesn't work and the shrink eventually gives up on them) and all their "frenemies" just tell them to "try this" or "try that" and "just wait, expect a miracle.."

sigh.  but no worries.  it's all good.  i'm learning things the hard way, and hopefully i'll be a stronger person because of it.

peacefully honest

no news is good news, right?   i should just stop spilling my thoughts like this. shut the crazy lady up, just smile and everyone will think everything's fine.  smile, just smile. right. oh well.
The good news is, after all i've gone through thus far, i have to say i am much more at peace now. It feels much better being honestly depressed than artificially "happy".  It's a good feeling, in a sad but honest way.  I can "own" this feeling, and i know it's real. i can pluck it out of my body, hold it in front of my eyes, inspect it, sniff it, (pew!) and observe it objectively.  I'm no longer just pretending, and trying to hide my feelings in keeping busy and buying too much stuff. No longer just going along for the ride, bracing myself and forcing affection while shrinking inside, recoiling and cringing with a sinking feeling of disgust and degradation.  I'm free of that. (oh no i've said too much...smiles, everyone, smiles..)  Like a bird, my soul is free, even if i'm not.

now i'll (try to) shut up.

haiku

buying someone's hand
is not at all the same as
stealing someone's heart.

insomnia eureka

While lying awake in the still of the night, the idea of arranged marriages suddenly popped into my head.  I recalled how, over the years, a certain person in my life has, from time to time, spoken favorably about the benefits of a custom used for centuries in many countries of the world, that of arranged marriages.   (made me wanna slap this person, but that wouldn't do any good, it was too late. just made me sad. very sad.)

Wikipedia's definition:

Arranged marriage is a type of marital union where the bride and groom are selected by a third party rather than by each other.^[1]It was common worldwide until the 18th century.^[1] In more recent times, arranged marriage is common in South Asia, Africa,^[2][3] theMiddle East,^[4][5] Latin America,^[3][6] Southeast Asia^[7] and parts of East Asia;^[8][9] elsewhere in developed countries, arranged marriage has continued in some royal families,^[10] parts of Japan,^[11] among immigrant and minority ethnic groups.^[12]   

and from Psychology Today:

In Western cultures, the choice of a spouse is up to the individual. We have institutions like dating that give young people a chance to accumulate relevant experience over a number of years, so that they can make an informed decision. In a way, dating offers the kind of experience with intimate relationships that summer jobs, externships, and volunteer work provide for youth in making career decisions

• 
  

In traditional societies, parents or other designated individuals choose a person's spouse (and occupation). These are sometimes called arranged marriages, in contrast to love marriages, though there are many varieties of each. A common rationale for arranged marriages is that young people are too immature and impulsive to make a wise choice, and experienced elders are likely to do better. In addition, in the West one chooses a partner to fulfill oneself, while in non-Western collectivist cultures, one's primary responsibility is to the group-to one's parents, kin group, ancestors, and others--all of whom have contributed to make one's current life possible and to whom one is obligated.

and some insight from the website Quora:

"We can never really know if arranged marriages work. One, because people, understandably so, find it hard to admit that outsourcing what was possibly the biggest decision in their lives turned out to be a disaster. I have never come across many men or women in their 40s to 50s who would readily admit that they have spent decades with someone they couldn't find love for. Add to that the exhausting inertia one feels after having expended a tremendous amount of energy in trying to find some beauty in a loveless bond, day after day. A lot of people just stick with it because it's tiring to even think of a solution in light of the deluge of family disapproval they'll be faced with. In light of how they feel, it's just too late. To an outsider, they might have just celebrated a silver jubilee, and to them, it could be the 25 years they lost."

I'm not from India, I was not set up by my parents, in fact i think i purposely tried to shock them by rebelling and choosing something totally opposite what they might expect of me....(isn't it ironic?)  but the situation discussed above sounds just too, hauntingly familiar.   

Another quote from another article: this Indian couple met for 20 minutes in her parent's home; the next day they were engaged.   Many years later, she reflects:

"But the losses are significant, and Alex and I still grieve them. On the rare occasions when we talk about this, we express sadness on each other's behalf: "I wish you had married a best friend." "I wish you'd found a spouse who excites you more." "I wish delight would replace acceptance."  To arrange a life, after all, is to control it."  

My advice to the youngens out there, those lucky ones still cruising the dating scene:   Do this one thing, and you will be happy:  "Follow your heart, not the checklist."

Yes, there are certain qualities, such as spiritual beliefs and similar viewpoints in raising a family, which you need to listen to.  But once you've figured that out, and you've got yourself aligned with God's Spirit in making choices that sit well with that spirit in you, that "knowing" that you can live with your choices and still have that close communion with the Lord in your most intimate moments of worship with Him...then go with your heart.  It's not a sinful, emotional decision, the way some people will brush off the term "follow your heart".  A God-loving heart is not the same as a flesh-pleasing heart.  Where is your heart?  And not just a God-pleasing heart, for a heart that just works and works to "please" God will never be satisfied, for we are by nature sinful and cannot do diddly-squat to earn His favor.  A God-LOVING heart is also intoxicated by the intimate knowledge of how madly in love with you GOD is, and cannot possibly believe that He would want you to choose anything less than His best for you. Believe in the treasure that you are, the treasure God believes you are, and wait, yes, WAIT.  God is good. 

And if you're already in your 30's, your prospects of marrying and having kids is looking lower and lower every day, do NOT, do NOT, do NOT lower your standards, your measure of "heartness" to match the lowness of your expectations.  that is so wrong.  You'd be better off enjoying your freedom and your continued pursuit of God as an individual, which is really where true bliss is at, anyway.  (If you make the mistake of choosing wrongly, you may later want to aspire to that same spiritual oneness with the Lord, but feel dragged down by this unequal half of you that was artificially bonded to you; being unequally yoked is a horrible thing, a living hell, masked , hidden below the surface of an otherwise comfortable, mildly pleasant lifestyle.)

 Then one day, when your heart feels overwhelmed by the perfectness of God leading you to the perfect choice of a mate that is by no means "settling", when it's not just a security slot to drop into to avoid the misery of a life not yet fulfilled by finding God's purpose in it, when you find that perfect spot, then go for it.  Follow your heart.  Never ever settle.  

That's my advice for the day.  (don't ask me how i know)

bedtime

so thankful for this job.
happy to be here
hiding my heart behind this green apron
grinding away my thoughts with the coffee beans.
happy to be avoiding awkward moments at home
though i miss my kids
miss putting them to bed,
saying our prayers,
kissing them goodnight.
like one day i'll be on my death bed,
saying,
yep, i'm glad i missed out on my children's bedtimes
so i could avoid being there.
then i'll die.

Titanic

Listening to old, old Christian music, old favorites like Rich Mullins, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith. the songs i loved when i first came to know the Lord, when the sky seemed to suddenly break open wide with the hugeness of infinite possibilities for my young life.  Back when I thought there was really a God who cared enough to one day send that special person that would make my heart sing with such joy, i would just know he was the one.  Not one i'd have to fight my doubts, my instant hunches and sense of settling, to go against the grain of my intuition and instead close my eyes, check off the needs, not wants, on my list, thinking that was the godly thing to do, and jump into my sealed fate.  Those were sweet days of innocence, when I truly believed God knew and would give me the very desire of My heart, not just everyone else's, those who lived with open honest hearts, not afraid to say NO to the things that clearly were good things but not God's BEST for them.  silly me.  i should've remembered, i do not belong in that class of people.  i'm like the working class passengers of the Titanic.  Give the more important people the lifeboats, the journey to a happier place, and leave the rats like me in this ship to sink and drown.