I don't deserve.
I don't deserve
so many chances.
I don't deserve
grace
or
mercy
or forgivness
or the love
You pour out on me
as I squirm
and wiggle,
writhing in my
self made
bed of vanity,
hate
and disillusionment.
I don't deserve
the life you lived
that saved mine.
I am the outpouring
of never ending
bad choices-
the same ones
over
and over
and over.
And still you love me.
And I don't deserve it.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Dear Occupy-ers.
You are pissed. I get it. Corporate America has more than you, and it is unfair. You can't find a job and that is really crappy. You live at or below the poverty line, struggling to make it work. I am NOT discrediting these as legitimate issues to be angry about. However....
925 million people do not have enough to eat and 98 percent of them live in developing countries.
65 percent of the world's hungry live in only seven countries: India, China, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Pakistan and Ethiopia.
Under-nutrition contributes to five million deaths of children under five each year in developing countries.
884 million people in the world do not have access to safe water. This is roughly one in eight of the world's population.
2.6 billion people in the world do not have access to adequate sanitation, this is almost two fifths of the world's population.
Did you use a toilet today? Did you get water that was safe to drink? Did you eat something? Is your child dying because of unsanitary conditions and lack of food and water? I think it is safe to say not. Is life hard, and times tough? YES. YES IT/THEY ARE. But count your blessings folks. You are in America, where people don't tell you how to live. You worship who and how you want, you function in your life the way you chose, and for the most part you eat and drink when you are hungry. Politics and money and greed may be effed up, but all things considered, if you are reading this, you are doing pretty well. All I am really proposing is this: take the time you want to spend being pissed off and angry at corporations or people or whatever, and use it to remember and feel thanks for what you DO have. See if by nature that doesn't help change your perspective a bit.
Love Ya'll.
925 million people do not have enough to eat and 98 percent of them live in developing countries.
65 percent of the world's hungry live in only seven countries: India, China, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Pakistan and Ethiopia.
Under-nutrition contributes to five million deaths of children under five each year in developing countries.
884 million people in the world do not have access to safe water. This is roughly one in eight of the world's population.
2.6 billion people in the world do not have access to adequate sanitation, this is almost two fifths of the world's population.
Did you use a toilet today? Did you get water that was safe to drink? Did you eat something? Is your child dying because of unsanitary conditions and lack of food and water? I think it is safe to say not. Is life hard, and times tough? YES. YES IT/THEY ARE. But count your blessings folks. You are in America, where people don't tell you how to live. You worship who and how you want, you function in your life the way you chose, and for the most part you eat and drink when you are hungry. Politics and money and greed may be effed up, but all things considered, if you are reading this, you are doing pretty well. All I am really proposing is this: take the time you want to spend being pissed off and angry at corporations or people or whatever, and use it to remember and feel thanks for what you DO have. See if by nature that doesn't help change your perspective a bit.
Love Ya'll.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Egypt.
When God delievered you
You looked back
You looked back
He spared you becoming
Salt pillars
And you kept looking back
When looking back was no longer enough
You built idols
Silly golden animal idols
You refused to see
All that God had done
And focused only on
What He hadn't
You missed the point
Because you kept going back
To Egypt
You don't know them anymore
The Egyptions
Are strangers
Too much time has passed
Too much has been done
Your slave drivers
Are busy with others
And cannot recall your name
So why
Do you
Keep fighting
To remember
Theirs
You looked back
You looked back
He spared you becoming
Salt pillars
And you kept looking back
When looking back was no longer enough
You built idols
Silly golden animal idols
You refused to see
All that God had done
And focused only on
What He hadn't
You missed the point
Because you kept going back
To Egypt
You don't know them anymore
The Egyptions
Are strangers
Too much time has passed
Too much has been done
Your slave drivers
Are busy with others
And cannot recall your name
So why
Do you
Keep fighting
To remember
Theirs
Friday, August 26, 2011
Jersey Shore, a Moral Dillema.
I watch Jersey Shore. It is my guilty pleasure. I, like so many others can't help but be attracted to a good train wreck, particularly when it includes such cartoon like characters. It is the only "reality" show I watch, and I can't tell you what initially caught my interest 4 seasons ago. I imagine it was the larger than life guido and guidette characters. The wild and drunken parties and cat fights and I suppose generally just the idea that it represented something SO opposite of my life. Nothing about who those people are was like me. And, it was a train wreck. I stopped watching it somewhere during season 2- feeling guilty about spending my time watching such nonsense. Ungodly nonsense I believe is closer to what my conviction was. Then I caught a rerun and watched it and again was sucked into the madness that is Snooki and The Situation.
They are 3 episodes deep into the 4th season, which is filmed in Italy. Last nights episode was awful, and not in a "LOL look how dumb they are- I cannot believe they are doing that on TV..." kind of way. The kind of awful that gave you the opportunity to see what these larger than life people are underneath the muscles and the make-up and the parties. There has been glimpses before- in previous episodes, but last night was a stage with curtains pulled back and lights aimed to the center. It made me kind of sick to my stomach.
Here are these people, young adults, who are payed somewhere along the lines of $30,000 per episode by MTV. They live in a house together, locked away from reality, no cell phones, no tv, no magazines, no Internet and are bombarded not only by the constant film crew in the house, but the 6+ cameras in every room except the bathroom. It was described by Snooki in a recent article as being more like a "prison"- but hey, the pay is good. This show is the number one top watched show of ANY MTV show ever to air- and really all it is, is an absolute train wreck consisting of people with some clearly deep rooted personal issues, and MTV is capitalizing on the fact that every season the issues get deeper and more obvious and creates an even bigger wreck, which will mean more viewers.
And what then does that say about us? Individual viewers, America, humanity? We are who keeps these shows going. We joke and laugh about the people acting like fools, throwing up in trashcans, peeing on sidewalks drunk and falling over, hitting people in the face over nonsense, having sex with strangers and then throwing them out of the room. These things are not funny. They are anything but funny.
I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to fall into this group of people who finds these things funny.
Everyone cranes their neck on the highway to see a car wreck, but no one wants to get out and stare at the bodies on the road. These people are the bloodied, twisted and broken bodies on the road.
They are 3 episodes deep into the 4th season, which is filmed in Italy. Last nights episode was awful, and not in a "LOL look how dumb they are- I cannot believe they are doing that on TV..." kind of way. The kind of awful that gave you the opportunity to see what these larger than life people are underneath the muscles and the make-up and the parties. There has been glimpses before- in previous episodes, but last night was a stage with curtains pulled back and lights aimed to the center. It made me kind of sick to my stomach.
Here are these people, young adults, who are payed somewhere along the lines of $30,000 per episode by MTV. They live in a house together, locked away from reality, no cell phones, no tv, no magazines, no Internet and are bombarded not only by the constant film crew in the house, but the 6+ cameras in every room except the bathroom. It was described by Snooki in a recent article as being more like a "prison"- but hey, the pay is good. This show is the number one top watched show of ANY MTV show ever to air- and really all it is, is an absolute train wreck consisting of people with some clearly deep rooted personal issues, and MTV is capitalizing on the fact that every season the issues get deeper and more obvious and creates an even bigger wreck, which will mean more viewers.
And what then does that say about us? Individual viewers, America, humanity? We are who keeps these shows going. We joke and laugh about the people acting like fools, throwing up in trashcans, peeing on sidewalks drunk and falling over, hitting people in the face over nonsense, having sex with strangers and then throwing them out of the room. These things are not funny. They are anything but funny.
I feel like an idiot for allowing myself to fall into this group of people who finds these things funny.
Everyone cranes their neck on the highway to see a car wreck, but no one wants to get out and stare at the bodies on the road. These people are the bloodied, twisted and broken bodies on the road.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The PNW Beach Mafia.
We are pale and dimpled.
We wear bathing suits made to hide
the mess underneath them.
We rub sunscreen vigorously
into the arms of children
who are struggling to get away.
We sit on towels and low lying chairs
surveying the other women and their children.
We judge them and their children.
We flip through a book.
We eat sandwhiches made at home
and sealed safely in ziplock bags.
We also eat the high fat treats we packed for our growing children
leaving the fiber wheat nonfat non transfat fat free healthy choice snack
to rot in the flamingo printed beach bag.
We rub more sunscreen on children.
We judge the new comers and their children.
We flip through the same book.
We yell "COME BACK!"
when one of our own wanders to far.
We say "It's time to go."
We pack all our sandy crap on top of the
fiber wheat nonfat non transfat fat free healthy choice snack
and carry the flamingo printed beach bag to the car.
Why?
Because we said so.
We wear bathing suits made to hide
the mess underneath them.
We rub sunscreen vigorously
into the arms of children
who are struggling to get away.
We sit on towels and low lying chairs
surveying the other women and their children.
We judge them and their children.
We flip through a book.
We eat sandwhiches made at home
and sealed safely in ziplock bags.
We also eat the high fat treats we packed for our growing children
leaving the fiber wheat nonfat non transfat fat free healthy choice snack
to rot in the flamingo printed beach bag.
We rub more sunscreen on children.
We judge the new comers and their children.
We flip through the same book.
We yell "COME BACK!"
when one of our own wanders to far.
We say "It's time to go."
We pack all our sandy crap on top of the
fiber wheat nonfat non transfat fat free healthy choice snack
and carry the flamingo printed beach bag to the car.
Why?
Because we said so.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wanna Ride In My Trans Am?
Travis is about 2 weeks into a mustache. He came home from work today full of quirk and hilarity. For those of you who know him, this will be nothing new- for those of you who don't, meet Travis Decker.
Initially he seduced me with this sweet poem (off the cuff- you know how he do):
Load the dishwasher
Do the dishes
With this mustache
I get all the bishes
Cut the peppers
Stuff the oven
With this mustache
I get all the lovin
Toast the bread
Spread the butter
With this mustache
I could bang your mother
(Not offense mom, he isn't talking about you- he is merely being relative. Also, I had to change the verb in that last line to something a little less R rated, cause I am just not that kind of blog.)
He went on to quote himself from a conversation at work:
"While you guys are playing call of duty I'm busy doing man stuff like having sex and growing a mustache."
Here is a quick picture documentary so you know he is legit:
Oh how I love this man of mine.
Initially he seduced me with this sweet poem (off the cuff- you know how he do):
Load the dishwasher
Do the dishes
With this mustache
I get all the bishes
Cut the peppers
Stuff the oven
With this mustache
I get all the lovin
Toast the bread
Spread the butter
With this mustache
I could bang your mother
(Not offense mom, he isn't talking about you- he is merely being relative. Also, I had to change the verb in that last line to something a little less R rated, cause I am just not that kind of blog.)
He went on to quote himself from a conversation at work:
"While you guys are playing call of duty I'm busy doing man stuff like having sex and growing a mustache."
Here is a quick picture documentary so you know he is legit:
Oh how I love this man of mine.
Dear God,
I just finished up Mere Christianity by CS Lewis. He spends a lot of time in the end talking about losing yourself in order to find yourself. Giving yourself up so that you may gain your real self. The one who is found only in Christ. My heart likes this idea. It sounds selfless and whole. Losing myself, in order to gain you, sounds exactly like what I was purposed to do from the start. My head thinks this idea is ridiculous. How does one, lose oneself, when oneself is the whole of what one is made of? I am not made of you, you just live in me. How do I throw away the me you created to live in, in order to become more like you? Do you see my confusion? How do I stop thinking of myself if I have to think of myself in order to live? I want to understand. More than that I want to be able to act this out. If you gave me my dreams, do I only reach them by throwing them away? Do I only become the person I want to be by stopping my own lame attempts, and admitting that they are just that, lame? Is it really possible to submerse myself so fully in you that all my passions and dreams are met just by existing as your daughter? Are my passions your passions? Sometimes I hear that you gave them to me, that they are with purpose. But if I am to lose myself, that means believing that maybe my ideas aren't your ideas. I suppose that would be okay. I don't however suppose I will fully understand this concept as a whole.
Do you mean that losing myself may mean, instead of mentally checking out for afternoon when my children are driving me mad, I stay and display my love and affection towards them by giving them even MORE attention despite their complete and utter annoyance? Do you mean I should not be so concerned with "me time", with my needs and want and desires....and just think about yours? What you would want me to say and do? This clearly is not my nature- I suppose you are suggesting that I do all these things completely unnaturally, until they become part of who I am genuinely. I "fake it till I make it".
You have guessed by now that I do have some understanding of all this- even if in my first paragraph I seemed like a fish out of water. I get it. I mean, I don't GET IT, but I get it. That is not to say I am any good at it. I'm not. The little bit of you that I have accomplished displaying at any point in my life is only by grace- because truthfully I am a disaster. And, I think that is close to where you want me to be. I don't think I will always be a disaster- in fact there have been times in my life when I was much less of a disaster than I am now- it is only when I become pious about any of it that things go really downhill. It is when I become really good, that I think I am good enough. It is at that time I end up back where I started, as a complete disaster.
I am rambling. What I need is this: I need you to show me how to lose me. I need you to teach me how to let go of what I think I so desperately need. I need you to make sure I stay as honest about all of this as I am in this very moment. I need you to remind me that it isn't about devotional time, or praying or reading or listening to sermons (even though those are important components)- but it is all about remaining open with myself and you and all your other kids about where I am and the fact that I can't do it alone. I need you to keep showing me you- even if I don't always recognize whats happening.
Show me how to stop leading, and just follow.
Love,
Brooks
Do you mean that losing myself may mean, instead of mentally checking out for afternoon when my children are driving me mad, I stay and display my love and affection towards them by giving them even MORE attention despite their complete and utter annoyance? Do you mean I should not be so concerned with "me time", with my needs and want and desires....and just think about yours? What you would want me to say and do? This clearly is not my nature- I suppose you are suggesting that I do all these things completely unnaturally, until they become part of who I am genuinely. I "fake it till I make it".
You have guessed by now that I do have some understanding of all this- even if in my first paragraph I seemed like a fish out of water. I get it. I mean, I don't GET IT, but I get it. That is not to say I am any good at it. I'm not. The little bit of you that I have accomplished displaying at any point in my life is only by grace- because truthfully I am a disaster. And, I think that is close to where you want me to be. I don't think I will always be a disaster- in fact there have been times in my life when I was much less of a disaster than I am now- it is only when I become pious about any of it that things go really downhill. It is when I become really good, that I think I am good enough. It is at that time I end up back where I started, as a complete disaster.
I am rambling. What I need is this: I need you to show me how to lose me. I need you to teach me how to let go of what I think I so desperately need. I need you to make sure I stay as honest about all of this as I am in this very moment. I need you to remind me that it isn't about devotional time, or praying or reading or listening to sermons (even though those are important components)- but it is all about remaining open with myself and you and all your other kids about where I am and the fact that I can't do it alone. I need you to keep showing me you- even if I don't always recognize whats happening.
Show me how to stop leading, and just follow.
Love,
Brooks
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Music is the Road Map to Memory.
Bleachers,
9th grade.
I failed PE that year,
But I did write
"God is dead"
In permanent marker
On the wood where I sat.
Cause I'm just a teenage dirt bag,
Baby.
Your bed,
Surrounded by Christmas lights
Colored, not white.
Is that why they call me
Sullen girl?
I am an alien here,
From the octopuses garden
In the sea.
You keep this love.
You make me want to stay.
Studying the backseat
Of a buick.
This interior is plush.
And you're a creep,
And I'm just like
An angel.
Uncle Vito's,
Half pepperoni half Hawaiian.
It makes me wanna
Kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet.
Hotels and humidity,
Ingredients for delicious armpits.
It's cool though,
You got the top down
Seat back
Rollin in your Cadillac.
9th grade.
I failed PE that year,
But I did write
"God is dead"
In permanent marker
On the wood where I sat.
Cause I'm just a teenage dirt bag,
Baby.
Your bed,
Surrounded by Christmas lights
Colored, not white.
Is that why they call me
Sullen girl?
I am an alien here,
From the octopuses garden
In the sea.
You keep this love.
You make me want to stay.
Studying the backseat
Of a buick.
This interior is plush.
And you're a creep,
And I'm just like
An angel.
Uncle Vito's,
Half pepperoni half Hawaiian.
It makes me wanna
Kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet.
Hotels and humidity,
Ingredients for delicious armpits.
It's cool though,
You got the top down
Seat back
Rollin in your Cadillac.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Ticks and Tocks Mean Irreversible Endings.
Time cannot be kept
You cannot hold it
Lock it away
In order to make it stop
It slips under doors
And out of key holes
For a moment you may feel
As though your grip
Is sufficient
As if the smiles
On the faces
Of your babies
Shall be kept frozen
In your own mind
They won't
They will roam in and out
Never as clearly
As the moment you thought
"I must make sure to remember this."
One day you will wake up
Without noise and nonsense
Without cold little feet
Grazing your legs
Or incessant talking
About dreams of mermaids
And the insatiable need
For a proper breakfast, stat
One day you will realize
Although time cannot be kept
It should have been more cherished
We will wonder
How we missed so much
Why we didn't breath in joy
Like air
Why we didn't work harder
To laso time into
Submission
Or atleast
Build more sufficiant doors
To lock it behind
You cannot hold it
Lock it away
In order to make it stop
It slips under doors
And out of key holes
For a moment you may feel
As though your grip
Is sufficient
As if the smiles
On the faces
Of your babies
Shall be kept frozen
In your own mind
They won't
They will roam in and out
Never as clearly
As the moment you thought
"I must make sure to remember this."
One day you will wake up
Without noise and nonsense
Without cold little feet
Grazing your legs
Or incessant talking
About dreams of mermaids
And the insatiable need
For a proper breakfast, stat
One day you will realize
Although time cannot be kept
It should have been more cherished
We will wonder
How we missed so much
Why we didn't breath in joy
Like air
Why we didn't work harder
To laso time into
Submission
Or atleast
Build more sufficiant doors
To lock it behind
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Remembering.
Most of you know my ongoing struggle with depression, anxiety and OCD. I don't mention the OCD much, but that is probably the biggest problem these days. I am not compulsive, I deal primarily with obsessive thinking...if you can legitimately call that a disorder. I think terrible, ugly, awful things- for no reason and then I get anxious about having thought them. Anyhow, that isn't the point of this. So, I have had this on and off war with medication. To be on, or not to be on. I currently am, and it is working well 3 weeks out of every month. Perhaps you can guess the one week it does not take full effect. I am not giving you a hint.
Nothing major changes that particular week- life just becomes a bit more of a struggle. My thinking is a bit out of control and I can feel my anxiety peaking for no reason at all. It feels a lot worse that it actually is, after having 3 good weeks in a row. I became agitated today with my anxiety. I was just pissed off that I was dealing with it. I kept trying to figure out why I had to have one bad week. Why everything couldn't just go as it should regardless of what time of the month it is. Can I not just get a break? I gave in- I am on the meds. I am working not to feel like a complete and utter giver-upper for caving to pharmaceuticals- CAN THEY NOT JUST DO THEIR JOB ALL MONTH?!?!!?
Then I remembered being off meds. I thought about lying in bed just waiting to crash. Just waiting for God to cut the strings and allow me to hit the bottom. I imagine Tom Cruise from Mission Impossible. I was just hanging, inches from the floor- knowing at any moment I would no longer be suspended at all. And then what? A mental institution? I know that sounds dramatic, particularly if you have never dealt with severe mental issues- but I was sure my mind was going to win, and it would be the death of me. Only, it didn't and it wasn't, and I NEVER hit bottom. My nose did not so much as graze the floor. I have been in that same place a handful of times in my life, and God has never dropped me. I remembered as I cursed the dreaded "week", that if I can get through months and months of hanging by a thread, I can surely get through a week. Not even just get through, but conquer. I may have to pull up my boot straps, throw up a few more prayers, and focus a little more on deep breaths, but we got this. I need to be thankful for what I have. Thankful that somehow humans have created the proper mixture of chemical compounds to keep me from spending everyday in bed, missing this precious life. Thankful that even if my hormones get a bit out of whack- it's just a bit, just enough to keep me on my toes. Just enough to remind me that yes, medicine is a good thing- but God is the best thing...only He can help me renew my mind every day, of every week, of every month.
Nothing major changes that particular week- life just becomes a bit more of a struggle. My thinking is a bit out of control and I can feel my anxiety peaking for no reason at all. It feels a lot worse that it actually is, after having 3 good weeks in a row. I became agitated today with my anxiety. I was just pissed off that I was dealing with it. I kept trying to figure out why I had to have one bad week. Why everything couldn't just go as it should regardless of what time of the month it is. Can I not just get a break? I gave in- I am on the meds. I am working not to feel like a complete and utter giver-upper for caving to pharmaceuticals- CAN THEY NOT JUST DO THEIR JOB ALL MONTH?!?!!?
Then I remembered being off meds. I thought about lying in bed just waiting to crash. Just waiting for God to cut the strings and allow me to hit the bottom. I imagine Tom Cruise from Mission Impossible. I was just hanging, inches from the floor- knowing at any moment I would no longer be suspended at all. And then what? A mental institution? I know that sounds dramatic, particularly if you have never dealt with severe mental issues- but I was sure my mind was going to win, and it would be the death of me. Only, it didn't and it wasn't, and I NEVER hit bottom. My nose did not so much as graze the floor. I have been in that same place a handful of times in my life, and God has never dropped me. I remembered as I cursed the dreaded "week", that if I can get through months and months of hanging by a thread, I can surely get through a week. Not even just get through, but conquer. I may have to pull up my boot straps, throw up a few more prayers, and focus a little more on deep breaths, but we got this. I need to be thankful for what I have. Thankful that somehow humans have created the proper mixture of chemical compounds to keep me from spending everyday in bed, missing this precious life. Thankful that even if my hormones get a bit out of whack- it's just a bit, just enough to keep me on my toes. Just enough to remind me that yes, medicine is a good thing- but God is the best thing...only He can help me renew my mind every day, of every week, of every month.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Yes We Can.
Warning: This blog is highly motivational and may be likened to one of those early morning self help infomercials - but it had to be done.
I don't want to become one of those people who only talks about running. I know those people, and I delete them from my Facebook because I become exhausted with their "blah-blah-blahing" about how awesome running is, and having to look at pictures of them all sweaty and smiling at the end of some marathon. That to say, this will be the last time I publicly discuss anything having to do with running, so bear with me.
You have to understand first off, that I have tried and failed at becoming a runner numerous times over the past few years. I attempted the Couch 2 5K program and dropped out. I got wild hairs here and there to just run a mile and almost died every time. My shins hurt incessantly. I was convinced that I was just not made to run. The only reason I decided to give it a go this last time is because a friend of mine recently started running. Just, out of nowhere. She had had her third baby and wanted to feel healthy, so she started running. Little by little her time and speed got better- but it wasn't about that. It was just about accomplishing it at all, and how good she was feeling. I like to feel good, so I decided to run. I went into it with a totally new mindset, though. The goal was not for it to feel good, or become easy, or to burn X amount of calories. The goal was just to accomplish running.
I have been running now for 2 weeks. Yesterday I ran 4 miles, and today I plan to do the same. The past 2 weeks have taught me more about myself, life and God than I have learned in quite a few seasons. I would like to share what I have figured out so far. This is probably no news to many of you, but for what ever reason, my heart has just now grasped a hold of these truths:
1. Nothing worth while is easy. It isn't supposed to be. If it was, it wouldn't be all that worth while. No extraordinary feelings of accomplishment come from doing things that are easy.
2. YES WE CAN. Obama may have stretched the truth a little with this campaign slogan, but really, we can. We can do anything if we really set our minds to it. This is astounding to me, because I am not, nor have I ever been a dreamer. Sad, I know. I pretty much shatter my own dreams before they even have a moment to grow, because if it seems the least bit out of reach, I give up before I even begin. Running has taught me that just because something is out of reach, doesn't mean you can't get to it.
3. We were created to endure. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Running isn't just physical. Pushing through pain and fatigue is a far greater mental battle than it is physical. Learning to endure is something we can carry with us in every aspect of our lives. We are made to push through, keep moving, and constantly see the light at the end of the tunnel, because there is always a light. That is what God is. He is the light at the end of everyone's tunnel, whether they can see it or not.
4. Being strong doesn't mean being skinny. This may be the most difficult lesson I have ever learned. I feel healthy and capable, and in love with moving my body- but I am not model/actress/cultural norm skinny- and THAT IS OKAY. I mean that. It is, for the first time in my life, completely and utterly OKAY. Better than okay. Am I saying I won't have fat days? No. Am I saying I won't have moments where I watch prime time television and compare myself to some starlet? No. All I am saying is I am exercising for the right reasons, and in turn learning to love my body exactly the way it is.
That's all.
I don't want to become one of those people who only talks about running. I know those people, and I delete them from my Facebook because I become exhausted with their "blah-blah-blahing" about how awesome running is, and having to look at pictures of them all sweaty and smiling at the end of some marathon. That to say, this will be the last time I publicly discuss anything having to do with running, so bear with me.
You have to understand first off, that I have tried and failed at becoming a runner numerous times over the past few years. I attempted the Couch 2 5K program and dropped out. I got wild hairs here and there to just run a mile and almost died every time. My shins hurt incessantly. I was convinced that I was just not made to run. The only reason I decided to give it a go this last time is because a friend of mine recently started running. Just, out of nowhere. She had had her third baby and wanted to feel healthy, so she started running. Little by little her time and speed got better- but it wasn't about that. It was just about accomplishing it at all, and how good she was feeling. I like to feel good, so I decided to run. I went into it with a totally new mindset, though. The goal was not for it to feel good, or become easy, or to burn X amount of calories. The goal was just to accomplish running.
I have been running now for 2 weeks. Yesterday I ran 4 miles, and today I plan to do the same. The past 2 weeks have taught me more about myself, life and God than I have learned in quite a few seasons. I would like to share what I have figured out so far. This is probably no news to many of you, but for what ever reason, my heart has just now grasped a hold of these truths:
1. Nothing worth while is easy. It isn't supposed to be. If it was, it wouldn't be all that worth while. No extraordinary feelings of accomplishment come from doing things that are easy.
2. YES WE CAN. Obama may have stretched the truth a little with this campaign slogan, but really, we can. We can do anything if we really set our minds to it. This is astounding to me, because I am not, nor have I ever been a dreamer. Sad, I know. I pretty much shatter my own dreams before they even have a moment to grow, because if it seems the least bit out of reach, I give up before I even begin. Running has taught me that just because something is out of reach, doesn't mean you can't get to it.
3. We were created to endure. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Running isn't just physical. Pushing through pain and fatigue is a far greater mental battle than it is physical. Learning to endure is something we can carry with us in every aspect of our lives. We are made to push through, keep moving, and constantly see the light at the end of the tunnel, because there is always a light. That is what God is. He is the light at the end of everyone's tunnel, whether they can see it or not.
4. Being strong doesn't mean being skinny. This may be the most difficult lesson I have ever learned. I feel healthy and capable, and in love with moving my body- but I am not model/actress/cultural norm skinny- and THAT IS OKAY. I mean that. It is, for the first time in my life, completely and utterly OKAY. Better than okay. Am I saying I won't have fat days? No. Am I saying I won't have moments where I watch prime time television and compare myself to some starlet? No. All I am saying is I am exercising for the right reasons, and in turn learning to love my body exactly the way it is.
That's all.
Friday, June 24, 2011
On Bulimia, Anorexia and Running.
I never called myself a bulimic. Even when I had become "good enough" at purging that I could do it in public places without the attention of anyone in a surrounding stall. I wasn't bulimic, it was just something I did. I never had full on binges where I would devour entire pizza's, packages of oreo's, bacon maple milkshakes and an assortment of potato chips. I just threw up no matter what I ate. As if I shouldn't eat anything at all. I never lost any real weight. Just maintained where I was, and that was okay with me. The more you purge, the easier and more addictive it becomes. And easy is good. No real work involved in throwing up- no exercise needed. No strength, just weakness.
I never called myself an anorexic. Even when I could eat a small salad with no dressing and call myself full, or skip meals completely. I wasn't anorexic, I was just exercising control. I never went an entire day without some sort of food- I just chose to count every calorie, weigh myself constantly and beat myself up if I felt like I needed food. I never lost any real weight, just maintained where I was, and that was okay with me. The longer you go without eating, the easier and more addictive it becomes. And easy is good. No real work involved in skipping lunch- no exercise needed. No strength, just weakness.
During the times throughout my life that I was not (not) bulimic or anorexic, I just worked out 2 plus hours a day- never for strength, just in hopes of being skinny.
It is too early to call myself a runner. I have been running daily for 8 or so days, starting with 1 mile, then 2 and now 3- shortening my time a little everyday. I wake up looking forward to pushing myself in a good way. A way that means meeting a goal, just for the sake of meeting it. I don't hit the "calories burned" button on the
treadmill, I just smile knowing I did it again today. It doesn't matter if I lose a pound, that is the last thing on my mind as my feet and heart pound, and sweat beads slip from my face to my arms. I am not thinking about whether I will or will not eat lunch, and what it will consist of while music blares in my ears and I push through all the moments all I can think of is giving up. Running is hard. Hard is good. There is no weakness, just strength.
I will run my first 5k July 17th, and I am so proud of myself.
I never called myself an anorexic. Even when I could eat a small salad with no dressing and call myself full, or skip meals completely. I wasn't anorexic, I was just exercising control. I never went an entire day without some sort of food- I just chose to count every calorie, weigh myself constantly and beat myself up if I felt like I needed food. I never lost any real weight, just maintained where I was, and that was okay with me. The longer you go without eating, the easier and more addictive it becomes. And easy is good. No real work involved in skipping lunch- no exercise needed. No strength, just weakness.
During the times throughout my life that I was not (not) bulimic or anorexic, I just worked out 2 plus hours a day- never for strength, just in hopes of being skinny.
It is too early to call myself a runner. I have been running daily for 8 or so days, starting with 1 mile, then 2 and now 3- shortening my time a little everyday. I wake up looking forward to pushing myself in a good way. A way that means meeting a goal, just for the sake of meeting it. I don't hit the "calories burned" button on the
treadmill, I just smile knowing I did it again today. It doesn't matter if I lose a pound, that is the last thing on my mind as my feet and heart pound, and sweat beads slip from my face to my arms. I am not thinking about whether I will or will not eat lunch, and what it will consist of while music blares in my ears and I push through all the moments all I can think of is giving up. Running is hard. Hard is good. There is no weakness, just strength.
I will run my first 5k July 17th, and I am so proud of myself.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Authenticity.
I was greatly complimented recently, by someone who knows very little about me. The compliment reads:
By the way, I was told recently by two different people about what an awesome and authentic representative you are for Jesus and that you have the respect of these people. One person said that you live your life in a way that makes that person want what you have. Praise the Lord!
Instead of being excited about this, I immediately felt pressure. I had just finished a fantastic evening with fantastic friends full of close to all 7 of the deadly sins on some level. It was no drunken orgy, but we were nowhere near thoughtful conversation about Christ, either. I thought about my night, and my friends, and how my guess was that none of them left thinking, "Man, that Brooks is such an authentic representation of Jesus!" I thought about my life and what it has looked like recently, which is an ongoing struggle with my faith as a whole. Lying in bed with my husband who doesn't know or understand God and feeling like I was closer to that side of the spectrum than I have been in years and years. Waking up feeling absolutely nothing about God except confusion. Finding myself in moments and days when I don't even push anymore, I just bend, because it is easier to conform than fight.
I read something recently that states, "I meet so many people who have "superwhatever" rattling around in their head. They have this person they are convinced they are supposed to be, and their superwhatever is killing them. They have this image they picked up over the years of how they are supposed to look and act and work and play and talk, and it's like a voice that never stops shouting in their ear. And the only way not to be killed by it is to shoot it first. You have to kill superwhatever. And you have to do it right now. Because your superwhatever will rob you of today and tomorrow and the next day until you take it out back and end its life. Go do it."
My superwhatever is perfecting Christianity in myself. Being the perfect example of who Jesus was, which means saying and doing and loving exactly the way that God, the creator of the universe did- superchristian. It is supermom. Superhomeschooler. Superwife. Superfriend. Superperson. What I realized reading this is, 1) How arrogant of me. 2) Where is the breathing room? Where is the slack when you can just be? 3) How come I still haven't grasped the completeness of the fact that I am loved just because I am. Just because I exist. And, that I will never be exactly what God has intended me to be when I spend all my time trying to be superanything.
All of this to say, I will take the above compliment. I will claim it as mine. As who I am. I say the wrong thing a lot of the time. I laugh at inappropriate jokes, and sometimes I even tell them. I struggle with vanity, lust, envy and pride everyday. I wrestle with myself- who I am and who I want to be. I wrestle with God, and the Bible and theology and ideas that I know I will never understand or be able to verbally explain to unbelievers. These are EXACTLY the things that make me authentic in my relationship with Jesus. I am completely and wholly imperfect. I know what perfection looks like because I read the gospels, but I also know I won't ever be Jesus, and I am not supposed to be. I am just supposed to be ME. The best ME I can be. And thankfully, grace fills the gaps.
By the way, I was told recently by two different people about what an awesome and authentic representative you are for Jesus and that you have the respect of these people. One person said that you live your life in a way that makes that person want what you have. Praise the Lord!
Instead of being excited about this, I immediately felt pressure. I had just finished a fantastic evening with fantastic friends full of close to all 7 of the deadly sins on some level. It was no drunken orgy, but we were nowhere near thoughtful conversation about Christ, either. I thought about my night, and my friends, and how my guess was that none of them left thinking, "Man, that Brooks is such an authentic representation of Jesus!" I thought about my life and what it has looked like recently, which is an ongoing struggle with my faith as a whole. Lying in bed with my husband who doesn't know or understand God and feeling like I was closer to that side of the spectrum than I have been in years and years. Waking up feeling absolutely nothing about God except confusion. Finding myself in moments and days when I don't even push anymore, I just bend, because it is easier to conform than fight.
I read something recently that states, "I meet so many people who have "superwhatever" rattling around in their head. They have this person they are convinced they are supposed to be, and their superwhatever is killing them. They have this image they picked up over the years of how they are supposed to look and act and work and play and talk, and it's like a voice that never stops shouting in their ear. And the only way not to be killed by it is to shoot it first. You have to kill superwhatever. And you have to do it right now. Because your superwhatever will rob you of today and tomorrow and the next day until you take it out back and end its life. Go do it."
My superwhatever is perfecting Christianity in myself. Being the perfect example of who Jesus was, which means saying and doing and loving exactly the way that God, the creator of the universe did- superchristian. It is supermom. Superhomeschooler. Superwife. Superfriend. Superperson. What I realized reading this is, 1) How arrogant of me. 2) Where is the breathing room? Where is the slack when you can just be? 3) How come I still haven't grasped the completeness of the fact that I am loved just because I am. Just because I exist. And, that I will never be exactly what God has intended me to be when I spend all my time trying to be superanything.
All of this to say, I will take the above compliment. I will claim it as mine. As who I am. I say the wrong thing a lot of the time. I laugh at inappropriate jokes, and sometimes I even tell them. I struggle with vanity, lust, envy and pride everyday. I wrestle with myself- who I am and who I want to be. I wrestle with God, and the Bible and theology and ideas that I know I will never understand or be able to verbally explain to unbelievers. These are EXACTLY the things that make me authentic in my relationship with Jesus. I am completely and wholly imperfect. I know what perfection looks like because I read the gospels, but I also know I won't ever be Jesus, and I am not supposed to be. I am just supposed to be ME. The best ME I can be. And thankfully, grace fills the gaps.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A to Z.
I have the best husband. Ever. I have a tendency to complicate things, and sometimes, Travis needs to make an idea as simple as it can be for me to grasp the truth in it. Today, he made a diagram on our shower wall. This is a reproduction, but something that needed to be shared.Please excuse my terrible "paint" skills.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
99 Problems.
If we are what we immerse ourselves in,
I am my children
The internet
And endless episodes
Of numerous prime time television shows.
I am an ongoing thought process
Of anxiousness and caloric intake.
I am obsessive about the unnecessary
And undisciplined concerning what counts.
I am black and white,
An orchestra of trial and error,
A well knit sweater
Bound with both hope and cynicism.
I will preach a point
All the while missing it completely.
I will do as I do,
For that is much easier
Than doing as I say.
I remain constantly aware of my flaws,
Keeping one foot in an embrace
And the other in diligent prayer,
Hopeful of restoration.
I am the synonym and antonym
Of a rhythmic southern Bible hymn.
I got 99 problems,
But my man ain't one.
I am my children
The internet
And endless episodes
Of numerous prime time television shows.
I am an ongoing thought process
Of anxiousness and caloric intake.
I am obsessive about the unnecessary
And undisciplined concerning what counts.
I am black and white,
An orchestra of trial and error,
A well knit sweater
Bound with both hope and cynicism.
I will preach a point
All the while missing it completely.
I will do as I do,
For that is much easier
Than doing as I say.
I remain constantly aware of my flaws,
Keeping one foot in an embrace
And the other in diligent prayer,
Hopeful of restoration.
I am the synonym and antonym
Of a rhythmic southern Bible hymn.
I got 99 problems,
But my man ain't one.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Romans 7:15.
"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Romans 7:15
I am so full of myself
I hardly have time
For You
Perhaps in passing
A late night thought
A string of words
Formed together
Because I know
What I should do
You speak of mountains
And valleys
The coming and goings
Of a time and place
For everything
I may be in a valley
Rightfully
But I am also
Digging a ditch
I give my imagination
Miles
When it should barely be afforded
Inches
I have taken off my protective wears
And stand exposed
As if purposefully
Giving in
Where is the fight?
Where is the memory
Of having come from nothing
To something
Triumphantly
Only because
You gave me the strength
And power
And will
And mercy
To do so?
Why am I choosing
To go into battle
Naked
Exposed
And exhausted-
When you give me
All I need
To win
Before even
Beginning?
I am so full of myself
I hardly have time
For You
Perhaps in passing
A late night thought
A string of words
Formed together
Because I know
What I should do
You speak of mountains
And valleys
The coming and goings
Of a time and place
For everything
I may be in a valley
Rightfully
But I am also
Digging a ditch
I give my imagination
Miles
When it should barely be afforded
Inches
I have taken off my protective wears
And stand exposed
As if purposefully
Giving in
Where is the fight?
Where is the memory
Of having come from nothing
To something
Triumphantly
Only because
You gave me the strength
And power
And will
And mercy
To do so?
Why am I choosing
To go into battle
Naked
Exposed
And exhausted-
When you give me
All I need
To win
Before even
Beginning?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
7th Inning Stretch.
On the field the lights are blinding
They are florescent and unbecoming
Without the just the right angle
The grass is green, wet, and freshly cut
Appearing to be painted beneith my feet
Outfield is wide and open
The air is mine to breath
Batter up
I am ready
Catching pop-flies
Is what I do
It is why my face
Appears in magazines
And on TV
"She plays well, it's what she does"
They say
Pop
Pop
Pop
Three outs and the crowd goes wild
The game continues
And I am MVP
Till the last inning-
Bases loaded and this
Is the one that counts
My head is in the game
I anticipate the roars
Of wild fans
When I bring it home
Only...
I don't
I fumble
I fall
I fail
And I don't know
What to make of it
What to make of myself
Because who am I
If I am not playing well
If it is not what I do
They are florescent and unbecoming
Without the just the right angle
The grass is green, wet, and freshly cut
Appearing to be painted beneith my feet
Outfield is wide and open
The air is mine to breath
Batter up
I am ready
Catching pop-flies
Is what I do
It is why my face
Appears in magazines
And on TV
"She plays well, it's what she does"
They say
Pop
Pop
Pop
Three outs and the crowd goes wild
The game continues
And I am MVP
Till the last inning-
Bases loaded and this
Is the one that counts
My head is in the game
I anticipate the roars
Of wild fans
When I bring it home
Only...
I don't
I fumble
I fall
I fail
And I don't know
What to make of it
What to make of myself
Because who am I
If I am not playing well
If it is not what I do
Monday, April 11, 2011
Resignation.
Conviction is quiet
Easily ignored
And managed
Under breaths
Resignation is without sound
At all
There is no need for management
When you have signed
The contract
You have accepted
What is alive in you
Breathing
Moving
Becoming who you are
Danger is around this bend
Beginning with beginnings
And ending
With
Never having moved
Easily ignored
And managed
Under breaths
Resignation is without sound
At all
There is no need for management
When you have signed
The contract
You have accepted
What is alive in you
Breathing
Moving
Becoming who you are
Danger is around this bend
Beginning with beginnings
And ending
With
Never having moved
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A Black Market Year.
Underneath the grey matter
Disguised as pink to hide
Highways racing with blood
It is a black market year
Thoughts are jumping borders
Crossing lines
Like immigrant women
Searching for new lives
It is dingy and dark here
It is unknown and well hidden
From everyone but God
There is stock being traded
Openly but against my will
Obsessive and Intrusive
Have their place
Among the top bidders
At Auction
Followed closely by
Guilt and Immorality
It's a long way down
To this secret underground
Coming up would mean
Growth and exposure
And
Light hitting darkness
Does not promise anything
Other than the truth
To be open is not always
To be healed
And this side of heaven
Healing may only come in
Blinks and flashes
Disguised as pink to hide
Highways racing with blood
It is a black market year
Thoughts are jumping borders
Crossing lines
Like immigrant women
Searching for new lives
It is dingy and dark here
It is unknown and well hidden
From everyone but God
There is stock being traded
Openly but against my will
Obsessive and Intrusive
Have their place
Among the top bidders
At Auction
Followed closely by
Guilt and Immorality
It's a long way down
To this secret underground
Coming up would mean
Growth and exposure
And
Light hitting darkness
Does not promise anything
Other than the truth
To be open is not always
To be healed
And this side of heaven
Healing may only come in
Blinks and flashes
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Soldiers Wife.
We ride on camouflage coat tails
White knuckled and air-born
We attach our children
To our wrists
Linking them together
Like one of those Christmas chains
Made of construction paper
Reassuring them that
The glue will hold
And they will not be lost
In the rush
We cling to phones and keyboards
Like crash carts
We fill out customs forms
For flat rate boxes
Full of dollar store candy
And hand drawn pictures
Of stick figures holding hands
Under rainbows
But mostly we adjust
To never being adjusted
We resign
To wait
To move through motions
To raise children
Cook dinners
Watch movies
And fall asleep
Alone
Because love-
Even when it is halfway around the globe
Functioning in an environment
We will never fully understand
-Is worth waiting for
White knuckled and air-born
We attach our children
To our wrists
Linking them together
Like one of those Christmas chains
Made of construction paper
Reassuring them that
The glue will hold
And they will not be lost
In the rush
We cling to phones and keyboards
Like crash carts
We fill out customs forms
For flat rate boxes
Full of dollar store candy
And hand drawn pictures
Of stick figures holding hands
Under rainbows
But mostly we adjust
To never being adjusted
We resign
To wait
To move through motions
To raise children
Cook dinners
Watch movies
And fall asleep
Alone
Because love-
Even when it is halfway around the globe
Functioning in an environment
We will never fully understand
-Is worth waiting for
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