Extreme Makeover: Chrissi edition

Well.


Umm.


Yeah...


I have no idea where to start.

I honestly don't.


There's just so much...*sigh*


Alright, here's the deal. Last year, I used this blog as a way to vent, to get my feelings and thoughts outta my brain and down somewhere so I could sort them out. Then things got better. I didn't have as much to vent about. So I stopped. Then things got bad again...so bad that I couldn't even write about it because it hurt too much. Times were confusing and painful. I would write every now and then but it wasn't good, it wasn't helpful. It was just too much.

I would hide behind forced smiles and stained laughter. I don't know if anyone else noticed this but I stopped looking people in the eye. I didn't want them to see what I was hiding and I didn't want to see their pity or concern. I cried easily and snapped even easier. It didn't take much anymore. Ask my fiance...he got the burnt of all that. It was awful and terrible and, pardon the Relient K reference but, who I am, who I truly am inside, hates who I've been. It's like I've been trapped inside myself. I've been looking out, seeing, feeling, hearing everything I've been doing all this time. Yes, I have been doing all that BUT there was always a part of me, small and scared, resisting, shuddering at everything that happened.

I can't really describe to you what it was like. Imagine if Dr. Jekyll was fully concious while Hyde was running around killing people. He would experience everything Hyde did as if he were doing it himself but he wouldn't have the ability to stop him. He would be an observer of his own self without any control. That's about what I've felt like the past...oh...I don't even know...3 years? Maybe only 2. But still...yeah. I have done and said things I wouldn't have. At least the old me wouldn't have me. I've become that monster. That thing I told myself I would never become.

It's wrecked my life. It isolated me, made me bitter and hopeless. It almost destroyed my relationship. I honestly hate looking at myself in the mirror anymore, even just to brush my teeth or check my hair in the morning. I hate seeing what I've become. I can't even look myself in the eyes anymore. I have failed.

I can't live like this anymore. No more quick fixes or forced happiness. I'm done. Pardon my French but...it's time to get my shit together. I have been broken and dead inside for too long.

So get ready, self. It's time for Extreme Makeover: Chrissi edition. This baby's getting remodeled inside and out. Mostly inside...I'm not going on some ridiculous body make over thing...though I am going to work on that a bit too...more on that later. Anyway. I need your help, blog. I'm going to use you. Every day I am going to write here. Even if it's just a paragraph. I'm going to do it. I'm going to vent, I'm going to rant, I'm going to explain, I'm going to think things through...and I need your help to do it. It helped last year. I hope it does this time too. I just need to get it all out...my worries, my fears, my memories, my depression, my exhaustion, my hopes and dreams...all of it. I need to process it in some way other than rolling it all around in my head. There's not enough room up there right now.

Anyway. I fill you in as we go along. There's a lot to say and honestly, I don't want to say any of it. Everything I write is going to be raw and honest and most of it isn't going to be pretty. But this needs to happen. And it's going to. Even if I have to go through this with just God and my blog, I will do this. I have to. Or I could lose everything I have ever cared about. And then life really wouldn't be worth living anymore...

So here I go. Wish me luck!

I'm reaching but I fall...

I'm trying. I really am. I texted you; I made the first move. The ball is your court now.


I don't know where this is going to go. I don't know what's going to happen.


All I know is I can't take the hate and pain and anger anymore. There just isn't enough room in my life for it anymore. I'm getting married this summer, I graduate from college in two years...I need to move on with my life. And I know you've moved on with yours. You're married now and with a baby on the way...



I'm not saying I'm okay with what happened. But I can't dwell on it anymore. I can't let it have the control it does over my life.


So here I go. I'm offering the olive branch, burying the hatchet, letting sleeping dogs lie. As Pumba says, I'm putting my behind in the past.


This isn't going to be easy. It's going to be awkward and painful. But it needs to be done. I want things to be fixed. Please? Can we at least give it a try?

Fine. You win.

I give up.


Fine. I'll be the evil one, the one messing up your new life. I'll be the one who hurt you.

Being abandoned for another man' woman, a new family, a "fresh start"...yeah, that didn't hurt at all. The phone calls and texts would have made it easier except...wait, what are those? A rarity. The last I heard from you directly was on my birthday. When is my birthday? March 6. What day is it? December 13.

You couldn't even text or call me to tell me you didn't like what I thought of your new wife. You tried with a Facebook message but that left no room for my own feelings. It's all about you and your happiness now.

And now one of your new daughters is cussing me out on Facebook. Seriously?


1. That's really classy. Let's put "family" drama on Facebook. Sure, I have a blog but you wanna know who reads it? My fiance, my aunt, my roommate, and apparently you. Wow...like all of those people don't already know about this crap. Her post however recieved comments from other people. That's just trashy. You don't put shit like that on Facebook.

2. How dare you show her kids what I have to say?? This shit is between you and me. I don't tell Mom what I write on here so when you text her all upset about what I've said, she has to call me and ask me what I said. Way to put her in middle, jerkface. Leave her out of this crap. If you don't like what I'm saying or it upsets you, contact me. I might answer. Then again, I probably shouldn't because the 4th commandment will be thrown out the window. You haven't acted like my father for quite a while now...I'm not going to hold anything back.

3. I know you're going to be at Grandma's for Christmas. Please, whatever happens, do not bring this crap up around her. She doesn't deserve that. It's a holiday with family. Keep all ya'lls tempers on a leash and I'll control mine. This is my last Christmas at Grandma's for awhile and I don't want it ruined by this shit.

4. I will continue writing whatever the hell I want on this blog. Only 4 people read it and they already know what's going on. This is for me to work out my own anger without resorting to violence. Don't like it? Don't read it. And tell little miss thang that I'll get over this when I want. My family fell apart. I'm still trying to put the pieces together. If she doesn't like the pace at which I'm going, she can suck it up and get over herself. She doesn't know shit about me so she should back off.

I'm really tired of finding out you're mad at me through Mom. Grow a pair and tell me yourself. That may sound disrespectful but so is putting Mom in the middle. Quit that.

I was hoping to maybe be okay with you by Christmas but this last incident just threw that out the window. I ended up with your temper and stubborn streak, Dad. So you of all people should undestand I need some time to get used to this crap. If you have patience with me, I'll try to be nicer. I'll at least stop calling your wife a whore. It's a knee-jerk reaction really. But I'll do my best to control the urge.

Now go back to your new life and leave me alone. You obviously didn't care enough to stick around in the first place. You don't get to stick your nose in my business now.

My ghosts are coming back to haunt me

I'm at a loss for words. I mean, I can type out what I'm thinking...but I'm in such a state of shock anytime I try to speak, tears well up and fear grips my tongue.


Christmas Day is going to be hell.



My favorite day in the entire year...something I look forward to with all my heart...a tradition I'm loathe to give up...

And it's now ruined.


Today has already been draining. I'm on my period (2nd day), I'm exhausted both physically and mentally, I just want to take a nap but I have work in 20 minutes...it's just been a long day.


Then it just had to get worse.


I went to check the time on my cell phone in my last class when I noticed I had a text from my mother. I haven't enjoyed getting a text from her in awhile since they're usually all about her wedding (which I dread) or about how much she "misses her baby girl and how things used to be between us". Gag me. This text wasn't any better. In fact, it was much worse.

"Just letting u know, from the text I just got, your dad will be at gma's on christmas day."

Aside from the terrible grammer and the use of text langauge (which, as an English major, drives me up the wall), this text was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me.


My father, the one who left us for some woman he met online, the one who disowned me after reading my post about my true feelings concerning the divorce and his remarriage, the one who hasn't spoken directly to me in almost a year, he's coming to my grandma's during my favorite celebration of the year. The one time a year I see all of my favorite family members in one day where we spend the day sharing news and presents and good food and laughter and Bingo prizes and he's going to be there.

If he was the only one I was going to have to deal with, I might...MIGHT be able to handle it. But 10 bucks says he's bringing his whore...I mean, his new wife. And she's pregnant. Goody.


On top of that, my mother is getting married a week from tomorrow and I still can hardly stand her chosen signficant other either.


So I'm going to have to deal with it on BOTH sides!!! And the whole time I'm going to be expected to smile and be happy and pretend like I'm not dying on the inside.


I'm not going to be able to do it.





And now I'm sitting here trying to piece myself back together so I can go to work...


Just four more hours and then I can completely break down...if I survive that long. If you're reading this and you see me in the next couple days, please do not bring up Christmas or the fact that I look like a kicked puppy. You might lose your head. Fair warning.

Beautiful Things

I wrote this for a reflection paper but it ended up being an outlet to allow my feelings to escape. Until I started actually writing this, I didn't realize how badly I needed to get all of this out on paper and out of my head. God, I miss her so much somedays it hurts. She didn't deserve any of it. Brenna, angel, I thank God every day that I knew you and that you are not suffering. In memory of you, Brenna Leann Morgart...you beautiful girl.

            “You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us!” This meaningful worship song will always hold a special place in my heart. My friend, Brenna, loved this song and she sang it proudly at all times. It was the theme song for her life, or so she would say. Ask anyone in the community; Brenna was definitely a beautiful thing.

            Brenna Leann Morgart and I grew up around the corner from each other. She was just a year younger than me. I actually met her older sister, Arianna, first because she was in my gifted class, but I met Brenna the next year. Even when we were innocent little children, Brenna was a bright, shining light. I remember her as a sweet, fun girl who always shared the swings and never said anything mean to anyone.

            As we moved on to middle school, Brenna’s demeanor never changed. If anything, it only burned brighter. We were never the best of friends, but we passed each other in the halls, and she always smiled at me. If we weren’t in a hurry, we would make small talk with each other just to check in on how life was treating the other. I remember when she told me she had accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. Her face was just shining with happiness, and the smile I never thought could be more genuine was absolutely stunning.

            My favorite memory with Brenna took place my senior year in high school. I had finally worked up the guts to audition for the school musical, Thoroughly Modern Millie. Brenna and I auditioned in the same group, and she could tell I was nervous. She put a hand on my shoulder and said in her sweet voice, “Girl, you got this. Actually, God’s got this so there is no need to worry. Everything is going to be alright. Just go out there and sing your heart out and He’ll do the rest.” So, that’s what I did. A week later, when the cast list went up, my name was listed for the part of Alice. In a funny turn of events, my character and Brenna’s character were good friends in the play. So we spent copious amounts of time running lines, practicing the choreography, and rehearsing the songs. I still look upon those days with a smile in my soul.

            After I graduated, I did not see Brenna again until we met at a mutual friend’s graduation this past May. Brenna was graduating as well, and excitement practically bubbled from her as she spoke of her rowing scholarship to K-State. I wasn’t surprised to find her the same Brenna we all had known and loved for years. Little did any of us know how quickly things would change.

            May 25^th was the Friday before Memorial Day. My family, including my fiancé and my best friend, were spending some much needed rest at the lake. Our rest would not last long. Even now, I don’t know how to start this part of the story other than being obnoxiously blunt. Around six o’clock in the evening, I received a text message from a friend back home asking if I had seen or heard from Bren. She had gone for a jog in our neighborhood around 11 that morning and hadn’t been heard from since. This was so unlikely of her that a group of friends was getting together to go look for her.

            With the help of a police helicopter, one search group found her body in a field a mere four miles from my house. Evidence showed she had been hit by a car and dumped in the field like yesterday’s trash. After she made the news, a man was turned in by his parents as a suspect. He had told his parents he had hit a deer with his car but after being checked out, the data was definite. This man, a boy really, had killed Brenna. After more digging, the police found Dustin Leftwich had been stalking Brenna for months; he had followed her in his car while she went on her jog, and ran her down once she was far enough from the neighborhood. He then put her in the trunk of his car, drove to the dump site, took advantage of  Bren in her injured state, and left her for dead. Brenna, my sweet, beautiful Brenna was treated like trash, and tossed aside like a broken doll. To this day, I cannot even wrap my mind around what she suffered.

            There were over a 1,000 people that came to her funeral. Her sister and her father spoke to us about how Brenna lived her life. Her pastor talked about how she always swung for the fences; she did not live in fear or regret, but lived each day for Christ. She had such an impact on our school, our community. In remembrance of her life and how she lived, we were all given whiffle balls to carry in her memory, to remind us all to swing for the fences like Brenna did. I carry mine with me in my backpack; on days when I cannot get her out of my head, I take it out and hold it in my hands just to feel closer to her again.

            Some days are easier than others. There are days where I swear I can see her smile in the sunshine, or hear her singing in the breeze. A few days after school started, I met a girl named Brenna, and my heart clenched painful memory at the sound of her name. No matter how low I feel, I always remember Bren is in a better place now. She is with her Jesus; she suffers no longer. Her words from the musical audition still ring in my head: “You got this. Actually, God’s got this so there is no need to worry. Everything is going to be alright.” I know she’s right. God does have me in His hands, and even though this situation is tragic and bleak, He will make certain some good comes of it. “You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of dust. You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us!” Truer words could not be said, and I will always remember them in Brenna’s name.

Mother Nature hates me, I swear.

I have always had a very high tolerance for pain...but when it comes to my "time of the month" I am a big baby.


I do have these pesky things called ovarian cysts but those only happen a couple times a year at most. Other than that...it's just pain...excruciating pain...blargh...and on top of the pain, hot/cold flashes, headaches, backaches, shakiness, and dizziness. Sometimes, if I don't eat soon enough, I get really weak and have issues staying concious (like today in American Lit). Other times, if I do eat, then I get sick...


I'd rather pass out in class than throw up, thank you very much. Bleck.



So here I am, yet again a slave to my heating pad, hiding in my bed, because the ONE time I need to be able to count on my high pain tolerance, it fails me. Every time. I hate it.



My kids better appreciate me. Because I'm going through this for them. See, future children? I love you before I even know you.

It's been a long time...

It has been...quite a long time since I've written on here. Not that I haven't had things to say...I just haven't wanted to say them. I haven't wanted my thoughts down on paper.

As a writer, I know that's just...wrong. Thoughts become stories...stories become real (at least, to the author).

But...my thoughts aren't...pretty. At least not right now.


I haven't written anything since May. I just...can't. I'm even struggling to get this down and it still, somewhat, make sense.

There's just been so much to deal with. So much that my mind is just now letting me think about. So much has happened. Too much.


I realize I need to start putting my thoughts down again...maybe that will clear my head.

I'll try, at least...