Once again, my reputation preceeds me. . .

Well, chalk it up to. . .

Whatever.

I talked to my friends, "the pastors," about my, uh, slip-the other night.

And there is a lesson for me in all of this. I know it.

I just can't quite recall it right now. But it's in there.

Yeah? The f-bomb? Eh. I'm over it.

Pretty much anti-climactic admitting my faults-er-slips-er-things.

You know?

I mean, it did prove to me that things I do are usually a bigger deal than I think they are.

Go fig.

But good that I was real with people. Two of the three people standing near me didn't even get that I said that word.

Yet again, go figure.

Someday things will be different. Someday.

Oh, how I love springtime.

My crap pales in comparison

This is a real life CNN airing about the children and situation in Uganda like documented in the movie Invisible Children.

http://www.invisiblechildren.com

or

http://myspace.com/invisiblechildren

Open foot; insert mouth

I had a really cool day today. I got a lot of stuff done. It was way rad.

Went with the old Bradford crew to see the new X-Men movie. Awesome. My friends Joe and Katie came too. That was cool. Worlds collided and there were no casualties. Sweet.

After the movie, I was talking to some friends who happen to be pastors and I accidentally said the "f-bomb" in front of them.

Look. I am not going to go to into detail about the conversation, but I will say that what I said happened to be about another leader in our church. Yeah, this just isn't getting any better now that it is staring me back in black and white.

I'm not making excuses or anything, I'm just saying that I totally felt stupid afterwards.

Mostly because they are pastors.

Mostly because a couple of other friends of mine are ridiculously anti-cussing and me having said that gave fuel to their fire. But it's not about what they all think. Even though in my mind that is a part of the issue.

See, the bottom line here is this is a symptom of a bigger problem for me.

Something inside of me is just off. I'm not making a huge deal about the whole thing. I mean, it bugs me that I said it, but mostly because my friends have the title of "pastor" in their name. Not because I totally feel its wrong. I have to admit that I would be significantly less annoyed if I had said the phrase in front of virtually anyone else.

I mean. . .

I just know by this happening that I subconsciously was making decisions that are not cool to make.

Look, I cuss to either rebel or be cool to people.

That's the truth.

I caught myself cussing the other day in front of some friends of mine. Again, the f-word came out, and I totally knew in my heart that I was doing it subconsciously to be cool to them. They don't even know that, and if they did, I am sure that they would not really care. They probably think I am cool no matter what I do. (Poor suckers.)

But seriously, I guess I just don't know what to think right now. I mean, this time I know I wasn't trying to be cool to my friends after the movie. Or was I? I mean if not, then why did it come out? Ergh.

I'm not going to let guilt come in, but at the same time I wonder what the jank the deal is. I mean, it feels wrong to have said that especially about another leader in the church. I just cursed about my brother in Christ. I know that is wrong. (Even if he can be a pain in the butt.)

But is that because the people I was talking to were pastors or because I genuinely feel remorse for having even let that out of my mouth?

And what is wrong with me that these words are suddenly okay with me? They haven't been a part of my vernacular for a long time. But sometime during my DTS, I picked up cussing again.

Which is way wierd because I was at an "All God - All the time" setup school.

Wierd.

What does this all mean?

Okay, now it's late and I am starting to make a big deal about it.

Can't do that. Opens up doors and gives footholds to things I don't want in my life.

Good night.

The healing process

It's not easy. It's downright painful. Memories are painful.

But I know in time that things will be different. It's not going to bother me as much in time. God is putting me in a place to heal me. In my heart, I know that.

I just have to have a manic crying outburst sometimes. It's good for the soul. And confuses the cats. The kept looking at me last night, cocking their heads and making low, rumbling noises. Not purrs. Not whines. Just noises.

It was funny. You just had to be there.

Today I feel all ex-haus-ted and headachey. I am worn out after running myself ragged having too much fun for my own good this weekend. It was the bomb. I had to cancel on some friends tonight because I just feel like crap.

It turns out Sarah and Jason are totally worn out this evening too. We are all home. Tired. Planning to watch Lost. It's the season finale.

Anyway, my mom called this afternoon and said that she is in the hospital. She has a blood clot in her lungs.

This is no good.

But I trust God. And he will be with her even if I can't right this second. I just hope that things get better for her, because I would like her to have some fun this summer with me.

I want to give this relationship a shot at normalcy. I will probably never get normalcy, I realize. I just want to try to have. . . Well. . . Something.

Instead of this raging nothing.

Cause nothing sucks.

Totally.

But, hey, these things take time.

And time is all I have these days.

And as the tear fell, I knew this: that things would never be the same.

So, some friends of mine are working on a play together. My friend wrote it. He is acting in it, and the church this group attends is letting them put it on in June. Which is sweet. I am very proud of all the people in it because I know that putting your pride and rep on the line with your artform is never easy. And everyone's putting their all into this play. It's gonna be amazing. I have no doubts.

See, the thing though is that this play. . . Well, it's my life. In a way. And not intentionally of course. The dad has terminal lung cancer and was an alcoholic, but has now turned to God. And he just has a small amount of time to try to get his kids to get together as a family for the first time really.

This is a bit of a parallel.

My dad has cancer. He is an alcoholic. Is. For some reason, he can't eat because of the radiation treatments but he can drink his sorrows away. I finally have the emotional strength to have some sort of relationship with my father. . . but he's very sick. And that dominates, well, everything. My mom and dad are both sick.

And it's not freaking fair!

You know, every time I watch this play, I just. . . cry. There's this scene at the beginning, where the dad and the mom are talking about the fact that the dad is dying and they have to tell the kids. He's tenderizing steaks; she's slicing carrots. But neither of them has called the kids yet. And the mom says, "I'll call them right now."

Dad says, "It's okay, you can call them after dinner, honey."

"No, I wouldn't want that hanging over our heads," mom says, "It might ruin the steak."

I can't freaking take it. Every time I cry. Tonight, I ran to the bathroom. And I bawled.

I just wanted a normal family when I was growing up. I wanted to be loved by my parents. I still want those two things. And now, I also just want to know that I matter to them as a person. That I'm not just some freaking claim. Like property. "This is my daughter, " they say, "and she is our pride and joy." Bull crap! Bull! Crap! I am just someone you can manipulate. Someone you can tell what to do. Do you even give a crap about the hell I have been through? Have you even bothered to think for one second that maybe what I do is good enough and you have no freaking right to judge me due to the fact that you are miserable excuse for human beings?

No?

Hmmm. I'm surprised. I've forgiven, and I've asked forgiveness. You keep shoving the knife in. Harder. Deeper. Until not only are my old wounds fresh again, but I have new gaping holes in my heart that I must contend to. Just leave me be. Just leave me alone, because I just don't know how much more fo you I can take. I loved. I loved and I trusted. I was violated. Betrayed and left for dead by own parents! I was left to drown in my deep sorrow. I wish I could forget. I wish I could wipe it from my memory.

I was abused.

Neglected.

Mistreated.

My dad hit me a few times. He threw things at me and called me a "whore" when I was like seven.

My mom scratched me and left bruises from holding my arms so tight and shaking me. She screamed at me, "Why didn't you die?"

"I didn't want you," she said. "I didn't want this! I wanted an abortion. I should have had an abortion."

I was a child!

Innocence was stolen from me by the very people that God put in place to protect me. To protect my innocence.

Where was my advocate? Where? No, please. God! Somebody tell me where.

I was left alone, to my own devices. Hiding in closets, while my dad beat my mom in the head with the telephone. Stuck in a small, dark space. Afraid to show myself. Afraid to breathe. Afraid I would be next. Afraid my mom would die. "This is it," I would think. "My mommy isn't going to live through this."

"I'll kill you, you b%$@&!" My dad would scream. "You're gonna die tonight!"

I would stand there, frozen. Thinking if I could just be a better little girl, they would stop. My mom would stop being sad, erratic, angry. My dad would stop drinking and starting making omelettes on Saturdays and we could go to museums and baseball games together like normal families.

All I wanted was a normal family. That's all. Just some semblance of normalcy.

And last night, when I talked to my mom on the phone. When I see this play. It all comes back to me.

And all I want is to be loved! And to be good enough! Not manipulated into being what someone else wants. Dang it!!

Dang. It.

Why the jank am I crying?!

This play. It's made me think more deeply about what I went through. Who I am. What my parents did.

I mean, my mom just doesn't relent. No matter what I do.

Over and over again, I forgive. And move on. Again. And again. And again.

Seventy times seven.

A prophet is never accepted in his hometown. Surely not amongst his own family.

I'm tired of this rant, and I need to calm down and talk to God about it. Admitting some of these things the second time, well, it just doesn't feel any better that I went through them. But it does feel better that I can talk about them now.

And I know God was there. Jesus was right there with me. Every time. Through every scrape bruise and black eye. Every time.

And he saved me from worse. I could have been a statistic. But I am a child of God. He is my daddy. My love and my friend all rolled into one.

Today's manic outburst was brought to you by the letters V and G and by the number 5.

Where have you been all my life?

So, I have had the most fun these last few days hanging out with my friends who have been in and out of my life these past few years. It's funny. I have wondered, out loud and to the people in the group, "Why haven't I hung out with you guys before? Where have you all been all of my life?" Yep. Funny. I totally realize that God has brought us together at this time for a purpose and for that, I am greatly thankful. It is love. Love between brothers and sisters. Love is the greatest gift, after all.

My mom emailed me on my birthday to tell me this:

megan your dad is very ill and says hes dying and would ike to see you before he
dies. me also. my family reunuion is saturday june 10th this year
and i would like for you to go with me because this may be the last for me to be
able to go. i expect you to be here soon.. if you dont have a
way i will see if someone can help. love mom enough time
has gone by already happy birthday sweet 27th

Yeah, uh. . . Thanks, mom. Happy Birthday to me! Wooo!

What the--?

I mean, that was just a lot of things I don't really want to talk about. But it was not this: love. Love, it was not.

And so I think I will let it go. I will trust that God will get me to where I need to go, when he needs me to be there. I will dismiss the self-depreciating thoughts that arise in my mind, and I will remember that I am a daughter of the most high God. The very creator of the world. The very author of love loves me dearly, and would never make me feel guilty or like I am less than what I am, for that is not in his nature. God's very nature is love.

I AM LOVED!

It's my freaking birthday!!

I am twenty-seven. That's right. I am.

Wow. That is a good feeling. 2... 7...

Here's to Buca and good friends!

Hey there five AM!

Hey, it's five am and I just got home from a night of partying.

That's right. I got out of the house.

I went to visit a friend who is on tour with a band. The tour came through Grove City and I drove down to hang out.

Frankly, I was a little depressed today. I'm having a hard time right now with my mom and all that stuff about going to Indiana. It's hard living the life I am right now.

Look, I don't really care what you think. You may think that what I've been doing is "easy" or "lacking responsibility" or "childish". Well, if you think that, you don't know me or God's character for that matter. And while we're on the subject, your attitude sucks.

There. I. Said. It.

Okay? I'm tired of these things looming over conversations I have. Lame. I'm over it.

I hung out with people tonight that I had met for the first time, and God totally used them to remind me that what I am doing is important. Every day, I make decisions to care or not to care. Yes, copious decisions are made by me every day. And God uses those silly little decisions to inspire people. To care for them. To provide for them. To love them.

Almost everyone I have talked to that I knew before I left for DTS has not really been that interested in what happened. Like, I can't even really get into stories about what I experienced, you know? It's like people are thinking, "Well, that's great for you. I'm hungry. I should go get some lunch."

I want to make more of an impact on my friends than that.

But I found tonight that strangers ask me more in depth questions about my experiences overseas and my DTS experience. I mean, I am over exaggerating a little. It's not like no one cares at all. I'm not saying that. It's just a different vibe.

And most of my friends that were close to me before I left just don't seem to care about what I went through.

IT'S SO FREAKING WIERD BEING BACK HERE!!

Ugh.

I feel like sometimes people think I am trying to shirk my "responsibilities" by living the life I am. I get that vibe from people sometimes.

And it is so unfortunate for them because truly, "responsibilities" can be an excuse.

I can't go on a mission trip, I have credit cards to pay off.

I can't do a DTS, I am married.

And my personal favorite...

I have a house, why would I do anything crazy like pack up and go run off?

Yes, I am a bit bittered. A little. What I did was follow God's calling. You can choose to do less, but you shouldn't.

It's really not that big of a deal people. You just kind of do it. Everything works out in the end. He's the freaking creator of the universe. He's not gonna leave you out to dry.

If those things are valid reasons, then hey, cool.

But if they are excuses, crutches, or the like, then take responsibility and say, "I'm not ready for that."

Much better said.

Whatever. I'm sleepy and rambling like a nut.

And a little bittered.

A bit.

This commercial is dedicated to my friend, Lindsey

So funny from back in the day!

Down the slope

Yeah, I don't know what the frick my problem is. I've been wierd lately. I realize it. I'm just not sure what I can do about it. I am waiting to get stuff taken care of with the car, so I can go to Indiana. I am meeting with my friend next Saturday. Which is cool in a way cause I will be here for my birthday. Which is deep down what I wanted. And God set it up for me. Which is cool. I am just really frustrated with things. I want to be in the race. I still feel like I am waiting at the starting line for the gun to go off. I'm depressed really. I mean, I just want more stability. I want a life with like a job and all that. I am going to probably have to get before I leave here cause things are crazy, man. I am down to like just what I need to get to Indiana. And I don't see things getting any better right now. It's really hard. I have to admit. But I am going to hang in there and dig down deep to find the hope that my God has given me through his promises to comfort me when things get hard and stand by my side. I would given up on my crappy life years ago were it not for God in my life. How did I get here when all I wanted was love? Well, I am through quoting song lyrics now. I have been in a rather peotic, overtly dramatic mood lately. I keep having to check myself. I am still struggling at times with feeling like a burden to everyone. Like I am a bother. I get so sick of talking about how nothing has changed. I don't know what I am doing. Things are off still. I'm waiting... All that. That's how it goes, man. I'm just having a hard time with doing that. You know? I feel... like I am in the mood to fake it. Fake what I feel. Pretend everything is okay. Therein lies the problem. I made a promise to myself that I would avoid that philosophy all together. I want to be real. I guess it's a big pride issue too. Because I am tired of being the person with the saddest story in the room. Ugh. I have had to face so much about my life lately. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe I want a job because then I don't have to face me anymore. I can just ignore the things God is trying to have me work on in myself. Then I don't have to depend on him as much.

Oh, that line of thinking can't be good.

Yep. It's time to be over me.

I'M OVER ME!!!!!