theshamelesswanderer

The Musings of My Mind

Month: October, 2014

Hmm…

How do you all feel about church? Do you attend weekly, monthly, annually, or only on special holidays? Does going to church make you feel closer to God? Do you feel absolved of your sins when you go to church?

I’m Seventh-Day Adventist and on Saturdays, we celebrate (?), maybe partake (I’ve never quite known how to say that) in the Sabbath and we go to church. I’ve been SDA my whole life, I’ve been to a lot of churches, I’ve seen a lot of shit. So much so that at this point in my life, many years ago actually, I realized that church isn’t exactly at the top of my list of places I’d like to go. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate church. What I appreciate the most about church is that for many people, it serves as a safe haven. You come there, you feel welcomed, you feel accepted, and you feel whole. That’s not always the experience, but more often than not, that’s how it is and how it feels. You feel free to talk to God about everything, divulge the dirty details of your thoughts (even though He already knows them) and be completely honest about whatever it is you’re trying to hide deep down. I’ve come across some amazing people in church, and it’s cool, but…it’s just not my…thing? Here’s the problem though. I’ve grown up in this religion, I’ve been held to the standards that this religion projects, and it has kind of led me astray. Not even just mine, religion as a whole. For example, I don’t feel like going to church this morning. I go with my family every Saturday, but today, I just don’t want to go. Yet, I feel very guilty. I feel like I’m sinning and I know that in just a few moments, my mother is going to come in my room and lecture me about how I have time for everything else, but can’t give God a few hours of my time. And in a way, she’s right, but that’s not what it is. Some conservative Christians are under the impression that the only way you can find God and be with God is if you go to church. As if God only roams the halls of holy sanctities. Some forget that God lives and exists in all of us. He’s everywhere! I don’t think that sitting in a pew and listening to a “man of God” tell me how the end is near and that I need to solidify my relationship with Christ will actually bring me closer to Christ. I believe in defining moments. I believe that daily instances will show Gods face more than anything else. But yet, I still feel guilty. That, of course, has to do a lot with my upbringing, but I don’t know. I don’t want to feel like I’m doing something wrong, but am I? Is it possible to manage, or lead, a healthy life of spirituality and adhere to the ideals of your faith without going to church?

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8:36

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There was once a time in my life
When I thought you were the one.
But I slowly began to realize
That I was coming undone.
Crumbling bit by narrowing bit..
Tumbling down your rabbit hole.
You made me weak.
You offered me a reality so shiny
That in turn became bleak..
So bleak, it shut me down
&I became silent&meek.
I shunned my own mind..
Feared my possibilities.
Simply because I thought that if
My light shined brighter than yours..
You’d leave me for an eternity
That I refused to withstand.
Why did you do this to me?
I offered you my spirit,
My whole heart&soul..
Thinking you would endear it.
Thinking you would cherish it..
Hold it tight&never let it go.
But you did.
I let you break it down
&throw it to the wind.
We watched in unison as it
Flew to the sky..up in the mighty
Clouds&ultimately disappeared into
The places of the universe that
We can never see…
&I stood there wondering what I
Could’ve ever done for you to
Want to ruin me.

Butterfly

The unpredictability of love is what scares me. You’re like a butterfly; fluttering and showcasing your beauty effortlessly while we all gaze in amazement, watching with awed expressions as you manage to escape us all, yet leave us all wondering how we can capture your essence. I mustn’t look for things my brain isn’t capable of handling, but I can’t help but wonder why you won’t come to me. In reality, you are the tainted, poisonous knife that has been thrusted into my side. You twist and then you turn, you flip and then you slide…deeper and deeper until I’m made aware of your inevitability of simply stay still. And then, you move along…you move along with time and everything else is left behind. So, allow me to do the honors before the pain you caused does. Allow me to release the demons that I leave behind closed doors. Because you push..&you push. You beg to awaken the creatures of pensive sadness within me, so if I must, I will oblige. Little butterfly, so beautiful and untouchable. I watch from afar imagining what it would be like, just for one second, to be your wind and your sky. Just for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to be enough for you…except the moment fades. You leave my shoulder and move on into the great wonders of our universe…leaving me watching, awed and flustered by my inability to move..on.

7:08

I kind of hope you disappoint me.
A part of me awaits the moment
You fall through,
Show your real face
&blow away with fall leaves
As I’m left to reassess what
This all means.
I believed in the possibility
Of my expectations..
All my pretty, glittered dreams.
But as time goes along,
There seems to be a hole
Punched in each one.
I’m left standing on my heels,
Holding onto the clouds
&the shit that lies within them..
Each second passing reminding me
Just how empty this all really is.

Letting Go

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There is no greater agony than being unable to escape something you so desperately want to separate yourself from. Perhaps there is, I know there is, but the feeling washing me over me refuses to acknowledge anything else. I want to leave, but you won’t let me out of your sight. At each and every turn, your chaos finds ways to override my silence, bringing forth mental screams of anger and deep, deep loathing. Please, go away. I no longer wish to support you and your words, your vicious ability to make me rue the day you were born. Something quite unlike me, I’m not hateful by any means. But somehow, you bring that out in me. Somehow, you make me wish I could disappear, leave you wondering where we went wrong. You are where we went wrong, and you alone. I’d love it if you allowed me to breathe the way I’d like. Inhaling with the sun, exhaling with the moon, no signs of you, no chances of your return. Instead, before my eyes even greet dawns presence, it is you who I see. Your hands wrapped tightly around my neck, taking any light and life away from me. Is that what you’d like? Would you just like the satisfaction of knowing you’ve won? If so, I’ll do you one better and submit my resignation. You win, I lose, just let me go..let me breathe. I no longer wish to be caged by your seemingly endless needs. Just…
Let me breathe.

Journal

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Whenever I love something or someone too much, I always fear that it’ll get taken away from me. Just now, I was looking at pictures of my cat and naturally, being the creep that I am, I started thinking of what my life would be like without her. I know that at some point, we won’t be able to be together and when that does happen, my life will go on. Life always goes on. The thing is, though, I have a really hard time letting go. I often daydream about my mother dying. I see my life crashing and burning, the pain twisting it’s poisonous knife in my body over and over again until I eventually kill myself. I daydream about what it would be like if I no longer had my sister around me…or if I’m dating someone, I constantly worry and fear for the end of our relationship. I really, really…really don’t like to let go of things. I don’t ever want to be in bed without Lola. I cringe at the thought that a day will come where she isn’t around to crawl on me, curl up next to me or smell my face. It’s scary, you know? The idea that nothing is of certain. The fact that we aren’t guaranteed anything in life, but death. That is all our one true common factor; we’re all gonna fucking die. And I’m okay with that. Maybe if we all just died at the same time it’d be easier?

When you’re used to losing things, you kind of start to think that everything else will follow the rotten trend as well. You begin to believe that you’re doomed to a world of perpetual sadness, eternal solitude, and…silence. Not the good kind, either. The kind that’ll drive you crazy and make you do anything for the slightest indication of human life around you. I don’t want to lose anymore than I already have, and when I look around at all the people I’m afraid of losing, I almost wish I wasn’t burdened with loving them at all. Yes, I’d much rather love and lose than to miss out on an experience so phenomenal and fulfilling, but the pain that ensues is something I can live without.

But then again, what’s life without pain?
This shit is overrated, I swear.

Letters II

I still send letters to the dead. I can either blame it on my inability to let go and move forward, or I can say that it’s a form of therapeutic expression and it allows me to cope with my grief. Either way, I write letters to the dead. I inform my loved one of the goings on of our family; who’s getting in trouble, who still cries, who doesn’t, or what the weathers like. I tell them of the brief moments I see them. How during last years Thanksgiving, I saw them picking through their food, sitting in their usual seat right across from mine. Although cousin Henry occupied our beloved’s old seat, I still felt and saw their presence, glowing in my midst as if it were of the norm. And I told them that. I told them about the new begonias I just planted for the upcoming spring season, how my husband forgot my birthday again, but I don’t mention that Jackie got another DUI. I don’t want them to think I can’t control my marriage. I don’t mention the fact that last week, I fell asleep on the wheel twice. Old age, and all that. Nor did I include that I want to take the kids away from Riley for awhile because I suspect the drinking has started up again. I can smell it on her breath whenever she comes over to help me with the cleaning. Those Clorox products just have such a strong scent. Everyone keeps telling me to switch, but it just happens to be the best.

But these are little things on the grand scheme of life, the big picture. They’re just little stars on a giant sheet of black sky filled, filled, filled with much bigger, happier, and brighter stars. I do envy them, though. Sometimes, not all the time. I envy the fact that they get to disappear like that. They can drop in whenever they’d like, but they don’t have to stick around for life’s idiosyncrasies. I envy the silence. I can’t seem to find any around here, but that’s okay. Life is a giant sheet of black sky filled, filled, filled with stars.

Stagnancy

I haven’t moved a muscle since
Last fall.
Leaves on trees have Grown&browned,
They’ve fallen&produced
New lives, new chances..
They have introduced a new day.
The wind blows wistfully,
Moving along in it’s passage..
Dancing to the rhythm of time..
Yet, I..
Remain stagnant.
I can’t find the courage to
Resist the comfortability in
Standing still.
The protection one feels in
Being frozen in silence..
Will eventually be replaced
By a gurgling fear
Smoothly rising from deep within..
Eerily reminding you of
Your stunted growth.
I’ve begun to feel a disconnection
With the wind&the leaves..
I’m being cheated by time,
&They’ve all come together like
A band of thieves…
Stealing my chances in the thick
Of the night..
But perhaps it’s on me
For choosing to diminish my own light..
To stand still in the shadows
Of the dark.
&Sternly refusing to be accepting
Of the clocks plight.

&She Wanders.

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Off you go, little one.
Into the land of the unfulfilled..
To sow the reaping
Of how you managed to lose yourself.
You weren’t happy then,
You aren’t happy now.
You’re doing it wrong,
Try again.
Tip toe across the night sky..
Across the plains
Across your sobs and cries.
To get where you’d like..
If you ever figure that out.

I didn’t know it then, but the name of my blog is quite befitting. My words and thoughts betrayed me this evening, guys. I’m filled up with so much that I don’t even know how to get it out. I’ve tried approximately 11 times to complete something I was writing, only to be unsuccessful at my attempt of opening up. I’m just not ready yet, is all. I am…lost. I’m wandering and I’m lost. These last few days, I found myself missing my old life. Then it dawned on me, I wasn’t happy. I was quite miserable, I was just having such a great time filling up the void with the wrong things. Now that I’m clean, I’m not doing anything but spending time alone. I’m getting reacquainted with myself and…..it’s hard.

I’m starting to try to write sentences write filled with air so I’ll stop here. I’m just…lost. I’m beginning to define the fucking word. Cool picture though, right? I’m going to use it again at some point when I have something real to say.

Why is that music is the only thing that ever makes me feel safe.

Shameless wanderer signing out.

11:20

The emptiness is screaming.
It was once a shy whisper
That evolved to a dull sound..
Penetrating my mind
Every waking second.
It fears my naïveté is overtaking
My control..
But did I have any to begin with?
I ached to feel something.
I yearned for the evolution of my
Expectations..
To be taken from fantasy to reality.
But then, the emptiness.
It loomed.
It rested on my shoulder…
Creeped into my thoughts
&told me to run.
“There’s nothing for you here,”
It said.
Making itself crystal clear
That I should replace my wants
With a deep, red fear.
Because as was warned..
There is only brokenness
Behind the doors I so wish to open.