A New Resolve...

There's no slap in the face quite like having a great friend, yet total stranger, call you out.

That's right.  Right after my last blog I got taken to task by someone whom I barely know.  Don't get me wrong, I love him to pieces and he's practically one of my best friends.  But to have someone who I've never had the privilege of meeting face point out something I'd been denying for so long -- It was tough.

I won't go into all the details.  It'd be way too long, and I'd probably cry (again). 

He shined the spotlight on one of my least endearing qualities. 

I am, in basic terms, one of the most negative, self-torturing people to walk this planet.  I seem to thrive on hating myself.  Misery, stagnancy and melodrama are my friends.  I put the needs of others before my own (even when I don't legitimately have an obligation to do so) and lose myself in the guilt when I can't. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, this great friend told me it was ok to be happy with who I was, that I didn't have to constantly be hard on myself for everything, and that having silly fun is what I'm supposed to do, not something I should punish myself for.

After crying myself to sleep that night (I'd be lying if I said I hadn't done that almost every night for the past few months, anyway), I woke up with this new, strange feeling.

Money is money.  It does not buy happiness.  It does not buy family, friends, self-awareness, pride, and self-esteem. 

Money, and the lack thereof is an obstacle that can be climbed over.  Financial struggle is hard.  The past few months have been some of the hardest my family and I have faced.  I've found myself more miserable now than I have ... ever.  Losing Mike, which practically killed me, didn't do what this has done.  Maybe because it constantly feels like there's no end in sight. 

Again, I digress.  (I apologize.  I like to babble.)

Tuesday night was hard.  Having someone who knows only what I choose to divulge (which let's face it, is pretty much anything.  I'm an open book.  Always.  I like to talk about myself, hence blog) point out such a blatant flaw that I'd been in denial of for so long kind of knocked me down. 

Wednesday, though, was a different day.  I went to work, and wasn't upset.  The things that normally send me into angry convulsions just kind of rolled off.

I smiled.  A lot.

That's what it's all about.  And like a truck hits a deer blinded by headlights, this realization hit me.  I can't change the situation I'm in right now.  I can either fight it and hate life, or I can roll with it.  Ride the wave until it takes me from this vast ocean of anger and sadness to some beautiful sandy beach (Pardon the terrible analogy.  I need a tan.) where the stress can melt away.  It will happen.  There's something more meant for my family than this kind of struggle and heartbreak.  We will succeed.  We will make it through as stronger individuals and an even stronger group. 

It's amazing how one little conversation can change so much.  Thank you...

I haven't cried myself to sleep since.

First Blog... Dreams and Dilemmas

So much has happened in the last few months... Much more than I want to get into all at once, for the sake of anyone reading this, and for the sake of my tear ducts. Most can wait until later.

It's been tough around here lately. Both of my parents are out of work and the financial situation is a drag, for sure. Are we getting by? We're not starving, and we have power. I guess that's getting by. But are we getting by "well"? No. Not at all.

There's a lot of tension around here (understandably so), a noticable sadness (even more understandable) and a feeling of helplessness that has permeated every orifice of this house. If the walls could talk, they'd scream out for God to just give them another chance. They'd yell, at the top of their lungs: If things would just be ok again, we'd never take a second of the "easier" life for granted.

Maybe that's what I'd say too if I thought that it would help.

As most people who know me well understand, I have an issue with failure. I'm really good at taking a perfectly good situation and botching it. But when I do that, I can accept it as my responsibility. I'll mourn the loss of my good sense regarding said situation and move on (eventually). This is a tougher circumstance. Everyone is doing absolutely all they can, and there's still no success. It's much harder to digest failure that is not of your own volition. It stabs more than an "Oh well, I messed up" moment. It's a long, nagging pain. I'm not sure what the absolute failure in this situation will be. Maybe losing the house? Maybe the car (or cars)? We're all healthy (except for my father... and I worry about him daily), and we all have each other. That feels like such a blessing. But it all falls apart when we have no home.

I feel like I have a responsibility to my family that I just can't accomplish. I work at a job that I haven't liked for a long time, and I've finally started to get out of my financial hole a little. I can start to contribute more ... but it feels like it just won't be enough.

All of this, I hope, is a solid prologue to the second part of this blog.

I had a dream.

Note: A lot of the people that will read this know I have a minor obsession with dreams and their meanings. In my opinion, they say what your self-conscious mind is trying so persistently to make your conscious mind understand. I have no psychological evidence to enforce that concept, but I like it.

In this dream, I was taking a trip. I don't know if it was a vacation, a mission, or something else. I'm not exactly sure where I was going, but it was somewhere that made me happy because I was very, very excited to be going there. However, part of the stipulation of my going on said trip was that there was a group of people I had to take with me. Some were strangers, some were people I knew. I managed to convince all of these people to travel, except for one. That traveler was a young girl, about my sister's age. She wasn't a family member, in fact, I didn't know her at all, but she felt like she was someone I was supposed to know. (I guess that's a hard thing to describe). She was ready to leave, but her family would not let her. Not because I was a stranger, or because I was older than her, but because God didn't want her to.

Note: I am not a particularly religious person. I do believe in God, but maybe not in the same format as everyone else [Is there really a "format" for believing in God? Sorry, I digress.] I am, however, a person of occasionally waivering faith in whatever this universal being or force is... This is necessary to know about me to understand why this dream and the following events are weighing so heavily on my conscience

In the dream it took several hours for me to convince the girl's family to let her come along. In this time, her family became my family. I was given the responsibility of her well-being and happiness. We made the trip. Wherever we arrived (I'm still not sure where), it was almost like Heaven. It was peaceful and beautiful and a lot warmer than 30 degrees.

I woke up remembering a lot more about this dream than I do now. As all things that are probably relevant to my psyche, I ignored it and this is all I can recall. I guess Saturday mornings are not my time for retaining information.

I spent a lot of time trying to break down this dream, this message to me from me. It took hours for me to grasp any kind of information, and this tiny yet udderly burdening statement is what I gathered from all that information up there:

I will be the one that removes my family from this disaster.

It was overwhelming to believe that might be the case. It felt heavy and it broke my heart, as I feel so helpless and lost in what our life is now...

Then, the mail came.

And in the mail, completely unsolicited, was a bible. I have no idea why I received it. This little vinyl bound book knocked me nearly to my knees.

Was this a sign? Was I wrong? Is it not me, but God (or whomever...) that will guide us through this? Is it just a coincidence that in my dream I had to break the hold of God's influence on a family and take matters into my own hands to reach "Heaven"; but then woke to a bible on my doorstep, seemingly pushing my faith right back into my face?

I'm sure it's a happy accident, but in my heart I am more confused than ever. I don't feel like I am strong enough to bear the responsbility of pulling my family out of this abyss that feels to be growing deeper and deeper by the day. I am only one person, and not always the best one at that. I have failed so many times before, and I am truly afraid that to take on this burden and fail would destroy me, and take my family down as well.