Yes, I am Crazy…

Ok, so here I am, “wasting” one of my few precious days off at yet another coffee shop. That’s ok, though, I believe it’s time very very well spent. You see, I’m crazy. I’m crazy about coffee. No, scratch that, I’m addicted to coffee. Ok, maybe obsession would be the best word. Well, maybe both work. You see, I have a couple hobbies that involve various coffee shops. One would be my quest to find the perfect latte. So far the winner of that category is Nina’s Coffee Cafe in St. Paul, MN. A-maz-ing soy latte. The froth sent me to heaven and back three times and the espresso made me experience a thousand glorious deaths. Oh, gosh, now I must go back there. Like… ummm… when is my next day off again…? Crap! Not soon enough…
The next coffee obsession I have is finding hidden gem coffee shops. You know- the ones that you accidently stumble upon and wonder why you’ve never heard of them before because they’re awesome? This obsession has a little bit to do with a website/business I’m trying to get up and running… but that’s neither here nor there. I’ll tell you about that at a later date.
Anyhow, my most recent amazing find is a place called Java Me Kraze in Becker, MN. It’s a delightful little gem that I will gladly make the 45 minute treck to visit any day of the week.
Let me tell you a bit about this place…
It’s AWESOME!
When you first pull up to the building, it looks fairly non-descrip. Just another small town “strip” type building with three businesses in it. Very utilitarian, no frills look to the building’s exterior. On the far right is a small sign for “Java Me Kraze”. Don’t let this fool you. Once you’ve stepped inside you’ll be a goner. So, if you are currently sitting outside of this building, reading my blog on your laptop, and you don’t really live anywhere near here, I would probably recommend leaving now. Do NOT step foot inside. Well, either that, or double your gas budget from now on. This place is addictive!
Warm, yet vibrant colors greet you as you walk in the door. The aroma of the brews and such pull you in further. You see extremely friendly staff, plenty of seating, and well-placed, easy-to-read menus with a variety of options, many of which are fairly unique (if you’re looking for something warm and comforting, I might recommend their ‘Java House’, it is an latte with honey, vanilla, and cinnamon flavoring. Or if you want to walk a little more on the wild side, the ‘Blondie’ might be just what you’re looking for with white chocolate, caramel, and root beer flavoring! Yes, I said root beer!).
The brewed coffee is also quite excellent. My favorite thus far being their Peaberry (a light roast consisting entirely of peaberries- click on the word for more in depth info on this coffee phenomenon). The flavored offering of Creme Brulee was also quite good as far as flavored coffees go (I’m not a huge fan, but L decided that it was amazing).
I’m also going to strongly recommend- no, make that ORDER you to try one or all of their paninis. OMIGOSH! The ‘Java Melt’ was really good (turkey, tomato, bacon, cheese, avacado, and mayo), but their ‘Kraze Grilled Cheese’ was to die for!!! Both L and I moaned in pure ecstacy upon taking our first bite. We then proceeded to devour the gooey yumminess in amazement that someone could make a grilled cheese sandwhich taste like that! (Oh- I almost forgot to tell you what’s in it: three cheeses -one of which is pepperjack for a nice bite- tomato, bacon, and mayo.) Sounds simple, no? But HEAVEN is what it tastes like. I just finished one (they’re healthy portions accompanied by chips and a pickle- yes, I love pickles) and just thinking about it is making me want another one, although my stomach cannot physically hold any more food…
Oh, and when you’re done drooling over the menu options for both beverage and sustenance, take a gander to your left. There is a seperate room with couches, chairs, long tables, small tables, and just a goll darn lot of seating in various configurations. And before I forget to mention it, they do have free WiFi, and even have a computer there available for you to use. A printer is also available for use at $.25 a sheet. Besides the food and coffee, which are downright amazing, this room is my favorite part of the shop. It’s available to rent for meetings and the like (there’s a projector screen and podium and everything!), but most of the time it’s just open for general seating and internet using. The ambiance of this room is utterly amazing. It’s very cozy and relaxing. I’ve spent many a long hour just curled up in the corner of one of the couches, pretending to do something constructive (kind of like right now… maybe… shhhh! Don’t tell anyone… they might make me work or something…. ).
But perhaps the most surprising thing about this place is the fact that L and I are often the only ones here! I’m not kidding. The first time we visited, we were the only ones there the entire time! The second visit we were joined in the large room first by a businessman stopping in to use the store computer really quick to MapQuest something before he left, and then, about a half hour after he left, a college student came in to do some research for a paper. I only know these things because I’m nosy and spied. Because of the size and set-up of the room I wouldn’t have probably noticed they were even there had I not been looking for such things. Oh, and I guess there were a few customers who came in and sat in the main portion of the shop up front near the counter, but their presence was only noticed when I went to refill L’s and my cups for the five-hundredth time (ok, maybe seventh, but it sure felt like five-hundred to my bladder).
So, I guess, all in all, what I’m trying to say is that this warm, inviting, spacious, yummy, coffee shop is a place you should definitely check out! Or maybe not… I might have to share it then… goll darnit! I knew there would be reprocussions to my actions- but I’m not known for keeping my mouth shut about these things… I wouldn’t want to disappoint people, now would I?
Peace! I’m going to refill my mug again and try desperately hard not to stop at the counter and order another panini…

Across the Room

Sitting here
Across the room
Really not sure what to do
I’ve spent a whole life waiting
For you
Our eyes meet
I wonder
Do you realize
Do you realize that behind these hazel eyes
Is the world as it should be
Blocked out by pain
I’d forgotten my song long ago
It wasn’t until you
That I remembered
You slipped into my life
And in your wake I heard a faint melody
It was the song of my soul
My soul was brought back to life
By the intoxication of your presence
You think that I don’t see
The quick glances my way
Sometimes I look up
And my hazel eyes meet yours
Your blue-grey eyes the color of the deepest soul-
If deep souls had a color-
You look away
But never quick enough
Not quick enough to deny the something that fills the space between us
The something you can’t understand
So you don’t acknowledge
You refuse to admit
To examine
To accept
To believe
You always stand just a bit too close
Laugh just a bit too hard
Stare just a bit too long
Care just a bit too much
I have seen the passion
That would permeate our lives
I have seen the compassion
That would define our touch
But I feel only the pain of the space between
What could be and what things are
You pretend to be chivalrous
Citing boundaries and responsibility
We both know you’re scared
You’re scared to admit and to take a chance
Because this might be it
Because maybe the fairy tale isn’t true
Maybe real life and true happiness
Is only me and you
Maybe there is no knight
Maybe the horse needs a bath
Maybe there is no princess
Maybe there is no happily ever after
But what if
What if this is it
What if instead of all that
What if there was life
And passion
And adventure
And learning
And laughs
What if the heart beating quick
Comes later rather than at the beginning
What if the infatuation came second
And the real love came first
So what if our hearts beat steady
And what if this friendship was all it took
To make the world feel safe
To make it all feel right
What if we allowed those glances to grow
Would that really be so bad
But that’s not the point of this conversation
The one I’m having in my head
Pretending it’s with you
These are things I will never directly say
Because I’m afraid of losing you
I love you
But you don’t really care
I’m pretending I’m not dying
I’m faking a smile
So you don’t see
All because you mean the world to me

-Kimberly Morgan

Normal Everyday Superheroes…

I’m sure many, possibly most, if not all, of my readers have heard of the Butterfly Effect Theory. For those of you who haven’t, let me provide a brief summary. The Butterfly Effect theory basically states that all things are related. It goes off of the idea that you cannot create nor destroy motion. Therefore, if a butterfly flaps its wings in Chicago, it affects the weather in St. Paul. It is one of the world’s great unprovable theories, as the proposed affect would be too indescernable to measure. So, I digress.

Anyhow, the reason I brought that up is this: if many within the scientific community believe the Butterfly Effect Theory (which would grant it some merit, I suppose), then why can we not apply this to other aspects of life?

I would like to propose a test of theory. Somewhat along the lines of a “Pay It Forward” concept. I’m proposing we set into motion the actions of a population of normal, everyday, superheroes. The difference between my theory and that of paying it forward is this: nothing is asked of the recipient- not even to pay it forward.

The basic question is that if energy can neither be created nor destroyed, then can we apply the same principal to good will and RAK (random acts of kindness)? My belief is “yes”. I believe that it is within all of human kind to provide and protect others. I am asking the world to step out of it’s comfort zone and nurture one another FOR NO APPARANT REASON other than to just do it.

Some ideas to get you started:

Next time you fly and someone asks to trade your aisle seat for their middle one- do it.

Slow down to let that person on the entrance ramp merge during the traffic jam.

Pay for the person behind you in the drive through.

Leave a ginormous tip at the coffee shop or your lunch stop whether your service was mediocre or not.

Take a $20 and hit the grocery store. Stock up on canned and boxed goods that look appealing TO YOU. Take these items to the local food shelf.

Next time you are somewhere and the clerk asks if you would like to donate to a cause SAY YES! (Trust me, they don’t do it to be annoying. They hate asking because they get yelled at so much).

Hold the door for someone.

Offer to help someone carry their bags (please don’t be a weirdo about this one).

Don’t stay silent when you see someone doing something illegal. You’d be surprised how many people see theft, domestic violence, etc and keep silent.

Volunteer with your local Habitat For Humanity

Donate blood.

Someone at your work or church suffering the effects of the economy? Place an envelop in their mailbox with a gift card to the local grocery, a restaurant, or gas station.

Sit and talk to that elderly gentleman you see sitting at the coffee shop everyday by himself. Odds are he has a fascinating life story to tell. And he’s probably lonely.

These are all just ideas. Give them a try. Feel free to post some of your own. The only guidelines are: it must be a RAK, you cannot ask the recipient to pay it forward, you must not expect a thank you or anything in return, and keep your eyes peeled to see if this has any effect in your community. Good luck. I will leave you with this music video by Rascal Flatts that really was the catalyst for me in proposing this challenge.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQyQst3iBB4

Deep in the Mire…

“Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire; I can’t find a foothold to stand on. I am in deep water, and the floods overwhelm me. I am exhausted from crying for help; my throat is parched and dry. My eyes are swollen with weeping, waiting for my God to help me.”  Psalms 69:2-3

This is where I am. I am deep in the mire and can’t find even a glimpse of a way out. It seems like everything I do to pull myself up out of this pit I have fallen into gets me only stuck deeper and harder. It just seems like I can’t get ahead in life.

Right now, all I want to accomplish are the following:

#1- I want to have a a functioning car. I was there. But in the last two weeks things have started to happen. Not the least of which include: my calipers are starting to lock up, my transmission is slipping (I think), I have a crack in my oil pan the size of Texas, and I have random lights flashing at me on the display panel. All of this in the last two weeks. Geez- just in time for winter, huh?

#2- I want to go back to school in the spring. Because of poor choices I’ve made in the past this doesn’t look like it’s likely to happen. I’m pretty much going to have to save up enough money to pay for college up front before I can even think about going back. This is going to take a while, considering how much my problems with #1 are going to cost, and how expensive #3 is probably going to be.

#3- I want to move out of my parents’ house. It depresses me to be there. All I ever hear about is what I’ve done wrong, what I’m doing wrong, and what I’m going to do wrong. They don’t even give me a chance to make any poor choices before they start getting on me about it. I understand that I’ve made some horrible decisions in my past, but that is in my past. I’ve grown up. It has literally been years since I’ve done anything like that. My choices today should reflect the changes I’ve made in my life. I am active in my church (well, until my car started breaking, anyhow), this summer I worked 3 full-time jobs, I am seeing a counselor (a huge deal to my dad who believes therapy is the answer to everything), and I have a good solid diverse group of friends. On top of that, I have to watch their destructive patterns. Sometimes the poison and bitterness becomes almost a tangible item because it is so thick. I am often forced into the middle of it. It is very hard for me to handle. Even at my age, and having grown up with it, I still cry myself to sleep on a regular basis because it hurts so badly to watch. A lot has happened in my life since I last lived at home, a lot of things that are making it even harder to adjust to the way things are there. I have been married, made a home with my husband in two different locations, found a solid job, watched my marriage crumble beneath me, gone through a very bitter divorce, had him take everything because I just wanted it to be done, and tried rebuilding my life with nothing. I had no money, no home, no nothing. He left me with a few bills to pay, a negative bank balance, zeroed out savings account, and a car with almost 200,000 miles. There was no way I could afford the house he and I had been renting, although I did try. The utilities were just too steep and the rent too high for me to do it on my own. Because I had nothing in the bank I wasn’t able to put a security deposit down on a new place. This forced me to move in with my parents. I went from complete freedom to a curfew, being unable to have anyone over, sharing a kitchen, needing to tell two different people where I was going to be and when I was going to be there and who I was going to be there with and what I would be doing, and having my every movement judged and critiqued.

Simple solution, right? Just move out? I wish. I’m still recovering financially from the divorce. Trying to keep the house put me in the bad place of being late on a few bills which wracked up some hefty late charges. I’m done paying them off now, but therapy sessions aren’t cheap- especially when you don’t have any insurance. I don’t live close to work, so gas is a killer. My car is falling apart and needing some pricey repairs (and, no, I don’t have enough saved up to get a new one. And I’m learning how to budget for one person again. When you’re married, it doesn’t cost anymore to heat a home if two people are living in it versus one, you get a huge price break on your car insurance, your cost for therapy is only your copay, and pretty much every bill is softened by two paychecks and the fact that most don’t double even if it’s two people on them.

Also, I don’t do well living completely alone. I freak out coming home to an empty house. I don’t know if I could do it. Oh, and I forgot to mention the fact that I need to find a place that allows dogs. I can’t forget my adorable little Teagan!

So, yeah, I’m pretty much living paycheck to paycheck right now with everything that’s going on. Which wouldn’t bother me in the least bit, but I’m going to go off the deep end if I have to stay in that house much longer. Sometimes I feel almost like I need to take a shower every couple of hours just to wash the hate off of me….

Not Good Enough…

I have a demon that I struggle with. I thought I had conquered it a while back, but it has reared it’s ugly head once more and now I find myself in another bitter battle. That demon is called Notgoodenough.

The Notgoodenough demon takes form in several different ways. I know I’m good. I’m a good friend, I am a good employee, I am a good rider, I am a good artist, but Notgoodenough prevents me from being any more. For example:
I am a good friend. Some would even say that I am their “best friend” (whatever that title means), but I am not good enough to be anything more. I am a good person to call if you want to vent about work, if you want to have dinner, if you want to grab a drink, if you want some coffee and conversation, if you want to take a walk around town, if you need a sounding board, if you just want to have a ridiculous conversation surrounding even more ridiculous one-liners from ridiculously funny movies, if you want to have a bonfire, if you want to see a concert, if you want to dream about the future, if you want to make a great memory, if you want to go to a wine tasting, if you want to host a get-together, if you want to grill out. I am good for all of that and more. I am good for pouring your heart out to, but I am not good enough to open it up to. I am not good enough to even be considered for that special place reserved in your heart for that person that you want to spend the rest of your life with. I was recently told by my best friend that “It is going to be really sad when (he) get(s) married, because we will no longer be friends because it wouldn’t be appropriate”. Translation: “You are my best friend, but you are not good enough to ever view as anything more. I do not value your friendship enough to want to keep it for the rest of my life.” I wanted to cry.

Another good friend keeps venting to me about her life. I have never judged what she’s going through. I have been there for her to lean on. I am good for late night conversations, vent sessions, movies, puppy play dates, dinner, “road-trips” to Denny’s, reminiscing about good times, relationship Q&A, and the occassional shopping trip (I have no idea how she talks me into those). She has often called me a “really good friend”, but apparently I am not good enough to be viewed as one. She has repeatedly told me during our conversations that “If (she) had even one friend, things would be better for (her).” Translation: “You are a good listener, but you are not good enough for me to truly view you as a friend”. Again, it hurts.

I am a good employee. I go above and beyond what is asked of me. I am often “promoted”. I put that in quotes, because I’m not sure what sort of promotions they really are. My job title gets a boost, so do my responsibilities, but my pay does not. I have to fight tooth-and-nail to get even the smallest monetary recognition for my work load. I am currently holding a position at one of my jobs that if I were to apply for it anywhere it would most likely require a degree. I am getting paid only $.50 an hour than when I was just a customer service rep. Suck. Translation: “We like what you do, and we appreciate your hard work and the rewards we reap from it, but you are not good enough to reward for all of your extra effort.”

I try to be a good daughter. I know that I wasn’t always. I’m not arguing that point here, but I am trying very very very hard now. I help out both of my parents when I can. I don’t party, disappear, do drugs, or hang out with a bad crowd. I go to church, work 3.5 jobs, am rebuilding my credit, and have even financially invested in my mom’s company. The only time my dad ever really talks to me is when he is either disappointed in a decision I’ve made or when he is drudging up my past to prove a point. The only thing I ever hear from my mom is how disappointed she is in me and how I do everything wrong. They both constantly ask for my help, which I try to give as often as I can, but sometimes work conflicts with my ability to do so, or what they are asking is directly in opposition to what the other one has asked, in which case I try to stay out of it. I get berated when I can’t follow through on a task they have asked me to do. They rarely ever mention me to their friends. I can remember many instances where my dad’s good friends have been over and have asked me what I’m up to, after they have gone on and on about everything my sister is accomplishing, because my dad hasn’t really said anything about me. I guess I should be happy he is even mentioning my name, though. I’ve actually run into friends of my mom who have been flabbergasted when I corrected them and said my name was Kimi after they called me Viki. They had never heard me ever even mentioned in conversations with my mom, and she talks about my sister constantly. Translation: “You are good for favors and labor, but you are not good enough to claim as our daughter.” Again, ouch!

So, the Notgoodenough demon is showing in full force in my life again right now. And, unfortunately I am weak and losing the battle. I am starting to believe the lies and allow this monster to overtake my heart. As the ending of a poem by Kimberly Morgan goes:

My eyes, they bleed – My heart cries tears

Serenity and Strength…

“God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.”

Lord, I need to add the following tonight:

Lord, give me the strength to be weak;
the ability to break so hurts may be mended;
enough passion to stand back;
the courage to keep my mouth shut when words are wanted
and to speak when silence is desired;
the compassion to remain unmoving;
and the love to keep my arms wide open
when all I desire is wrap them around as a shelter.

For, without weakness, strength would never be found;
nothing can be fixed until it is truly broken;
no one learns to walk if there is not room to move;
it is often when we least want to hear that we most need to,
and sometimes our own thoughts are smothered by way of good intentions;
a solid oak is often of more comfort than a bending blade of grass;
and if arms are not left open there will be no embrace to return to
should the cherished stray.

We Could All Learn a Little Something From the Marines…

I was just thinking about some things today, and the USMC Prayer popped into my head. Thinking about what it said, I came to the conclusion we could all learn a little something from those words. If you were to replace “Marine” with “Christian” I think it would be pretty spot on to what Christ would want from us…

Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family. Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Make me considerate of those committed to my leadership. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold. If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me the courage to try again. Guide me with the light of truth and grant me the wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer.

Never, but NEVER question the Blackberry!!!

Today I did something stupid. Something very very very stupid. I questioned my Blackberry. More than that, I decided my Blackberry was wrong. It wasn’t.

I had an appointment today. Nothing radical or life or death. Just getting my hair cut. It was my first appointment trying out a new stylist (who also happens to be a friend of mine). I had stopped into the salon last week to make an appointment (finally! My hair has needed a change since about two days after it was done last). He and I chatted and decided that today would be the best day for both of us. We discussed time, and I put it into my Blackberry (as I do with anything I know I need to remember). He also wrote down the appointment on the back of one of his cards. I put it into my purse next to all of the other important cards and random slips of paper I can’t lose. Didn’t look at it again until last night when it fell out as I was getting my credit card to pay for a new pair of killer earrings (yes- another pair). I picked it up and noticed that the card said 10:30. I had “cracked” (my affectionate term for putting something into my calendar log on my phone) the appointment for 10. I knew the appointment was for 10. I remembered the conversation. But then I started wondering. Had I cracked the wrong time? Had we been having two different conversations? Maybe I heard him wrong? Did he say 10 but really mean 10:30? I debated it for a few minutes. Then made the hasty decision that the real appointment was at 10:30 since that was what he had written (normally I would have thought it over a bit longer, but the lady at the register was getting pretty cranky waiting for me to sign the receipt). So, I planned accordingly. Stupid me. I didn’t even think to call and clarify. I just assumed my Blackberry was wrong. It wasn’t. It never is.

So, I get to the salon at 10:30 on the dot and he greets me with a “I gave up on you! Where have you been?!”. Yup. The crack was right. My brain was wrong. So was the card. The appointment was at 10. Because I was late, he had taken a walk-in. My time-slot was shot. And he was booked solid until lunch. Shoot! Then he offered to squeeze me in after the walk-in and before his next appointment. I jumped at it! I really wanted to see what he could do with the fried mass of split ends my hair had become from all of the chemical treatments. So, I waited. Flipped through some magazines, made a couple of phone calls, and then waited some more. Thought about going to get something to eat, but it was only 11, and I wasn’t quite ready for lunch yet. Rendezvous was right across the road, but I had just come from Caribou and wasn’t really wanting any burnt bitter espresso from the small shop. Apparently the walk-in took longer than he anticipated, because just as he finished her, his next appointment walked in the door. He offered to tell her that he was running behind, but she looked like she was in a hurry. So, I offered to come back that afternoon if he had any open spots (I have the whole day off- why not?). Then the phone rang, and it was the client after the one that was there. She canceled. I took that slot. I sat down again. To wait. And wait. Waiting is NOT my forte. Not even close. I’m always on the go. In fact, I think I’ve forgotten how to sit still. I was getting pretty antsy when something happened. I got calm. It was like a peace just kind of settled over me. I actually found myself hoping that the appointment would take a really long time for him to finish before he got to me. I was enjoying just sitting- something I haven’t done in a very long time. Just doing nothing. It was AMAZING! The cut he was doing actually did take quite a while and I just spent my time in the chair reflecting on all of the good things in my life and how blessed I was.

Then it was my turn. He sat me down in the chair and that’s when my nirvana set in. It was pure bliss. He spent quite a bit of extra time with me, he gave me a neck and shoulder rub and massaged my scalp as he was washing my hair. He asked me what I wanted to acheive with the cut and I gave him the specifications (i.e. I like short hair but as I have a chubby face it’s hard to pull off, I like fun and funky, but I’m in a wedding coming up and was given specific instructions that I had to be able to take my fun cut and turn it into something gorgeous and wedding worthy, keep an eye on my cowlick, etc) and then told him to have fun. He took a great amount of time with me getting everything just right. He started off with a simple, basic angled bob and sculpted from there. I actually got somewhat of an idea what it must be like to be a work of art in progress because of all of the concentration and loving effort he put into my hair as he would get an idea and it evolved. We chatted, and I got to know this Caribou regular on a whole new level. I was relaxed for the first time in a long time. No appointments to run to, no clock to punch, no commuting to worry about, no obligations at all. Just me, Will, the salon, a pair of scissors, and a hairdryer. When he finished, he gave me a hug and offered to give me a discount on the cut and style since I had waited so long. I laughed and declined because I had gotten much more than that out of the whole experience.

I learned several lessons today.

#1- Never, but NEVER question the Blackberry- it is ALWAYS right!

#2- Sometimes you just need to relax

#3- God can turn even the stupidest of decisions on my part (questioning the Blackberry) and turn it around to teach me a pleasant lesson in how to enjoy life more.

#4- Will is a genious! My hair looks drop-dead gorgeous, by the way.

When is it really over…?

Just when I think I’m ready to give it all up and move on, something happens and the tiny little flame turns back into a roaring bonfire again.

I have tried to get this farm going for the longest time. Every time I think I’m there, it comes crashing down around me again. People are always telling me I need to move on and “get a real job”, a “real career”, go back to school and “be realistic” about what I am going to do, and (my favorite) “stop dreaming”.

Until recently, I did fairly well at ignoring everyone who told me all of those things. Granted, there were times I almost gave in, but I never did. I held onto the fragments of my shattered dream with all of the stubborn strength I have in me. Then the divorce came. It left me devastated, feeling unloved, unworthy, unable to accomplish anything. Basically it left me feeling like a failure, and like someone who would never reach any dream. People in my life saw (most likely subconsciously) that I was weak in my resolve and easily persuaded, and they pounced. They convinced me that I would never succeed in achieving a self-sustaining farm. They slowly pried my fingers away from their death-grip on my shattered dream and tossed it in the dumpster like a parent does with a child’s favorite toy that has been broken.

I felt broken and lost, without a purpose. Initially I blamed it on the divorce, and grieving over the loss of my marriage. Farm supply catalogs would come in the mail and instead of losing myself in them for hours, dreaming of the day I could justify buying the ivermectin in bulk, or dropping several bills on a stable blanket with my farm’s monogrammed logo, I would just toss them in the trash without so much as opening them. Two or three weeks ago my Quarter Horse Journal came in the mail, and as I was in a hurry, I just tossed it in the back seat of my car to throw away later. I had completely forgotten about it until today as I was grabbing my journal out of the car, I managed to get the QHJ wedged between the pages. I didn’t notice I had done that until I was inside Caribou. It shocked me when I saw it because I realized I hadn’t even looked at the cover photo in that entire three weeks. Noticing a teaser on the front about a writeup concerning one of my horse’s grandsires, I flipped it open. The flame I thought I had snuffed out grew steadily as I read, and I realized that I had that peaceful feeling I had been missing for these past months- that kind of inner warmth that just let’s you know where you are or what you’re doing is exactly where you should be.

I continued reading, and as I skimmed the training section, I noticed myself making mental notes about possible approaches to an issue I was having troubles with my mare. After I had read the magazine from cover to cover, I closed it, shut my eyes, and sat in silence for several minutes. I wrestled with a lot of stuff as questions and various problems arose in my mind. For the first time ever, I thought about what I wanted and where I wanted to be and actually listened to the concerns people have shared with me over my chosen profession. In the end it all came down to the following:

#1- Horses make me happy. More than just “yay- isn’t that fun?” happy, no they bring a peace to my life. It’s almost like when I’m working with horses, I feel closer to God.

#2- If I don’t have dreams, I don’t have a reason to get up in the morning.

#3- I can’t do this alone. What I’ve really been missing all of this time, the final piece of the puzzle that I need to actually succeed is support. I need a partner. I need someone to do it with me.

#4- What I need to do right now is focus on getting a “real” job (one that has a regular paycheck) for now. I need to keep my one horse so I don’t lose faith.

#5- I need to back-off on trying to get the whole farm-thing going for a while. I need to also realize that I may never find someone to do it with. In which case, I need to be content with horses as a small time hobby. Which is OK. I never gave myself that option before. Small time hobby is OK.

This is going to take a lot of patience on both mine and God’s part. I’ve just gotta have faith!

Soul Tired…

I am tired. Very tired.

I’m not talking about a lack of sleep tired; no, I’m talking about a deep within my soul exhaustion. The kind you can’t sleep away, but still makes you want to sleep all day, all the time. The kind of exhaustion that is so powerful within your soul that you can physically feel it. You yawn constantly, have trouble keeping your eyes open during a movie (and sometimes while driving!), and dream of sleep during the day at work. It’s exhaustion so deep and so real it almost feels to you as if it were a constant physical companion.

The only way you can avoid it is my constantly moving. That is why I work 3.5 jobs, volunteer, and try to keep my calendar as full as possible. I work out feverishly, throw myself into every task (often with an intensity unrequired), help plan things, take on extra responsibilities at work I know I won’t get pay and/or recognition for, and smoke (I know I promised to quit after the divorce). I do it all so I don’t stand still. Because, if I stand still, I will eventually sit, and if I sit, I begin to think, and when I think is when the soul-deep exhaustion hits like a train into a brick wall.

Sitting still is when you will find me with my head in my hands, unconsciously fighting back tears. You might ask me a question and I will have to make you repeat yourself three times before I find a reserve of strength large enough to make myself comprehend just what you have said. Then it will take me another minute to force my brain to cooperate with an answer. The simplest of tasks become exceedingly difficult for me to accomplish. i will read a sentence five times over and still not absorb what it said. I can’t focus on a computer screen to do my inventory sheets at work. At times, even talking proves difficult for me. My tongue will feel extremely thick and flacid and I will have to use every ounce of my concentration to produce comprehendable words.

At times I struggle not to cry. Not because I’m sad, but, rather, from sheer exhaustion. Many people tell me it’s from “burning the candle at both ends”, what with my 3.5 jobs, trying to maintain a social life, my crazy work-out schedule, and doing other projects- but I know it’s not. I’ve dealt with physical exhaustion from too much work and not enough sleep. That kind of tired is easily solved by a nice three day weekend with plenty of rest to recharge my battery. No, now I dream of sleep. But when I do finally get the chance, it is a deep, dreamless sleep that affords me no rest. I often wake as exhausted, if not more so, than when I went to bed. I look forward to sleep only because during it I don’t know how exhausted I really am.

It is not from sadness. Yes, I have had many painful things happen in the past few years, but I have forced myself to acknowledge, deal, and grieve over those issues. No, this deep-soul exhaustion I experience is from having to deal with these and more issues every day.

It comes from being a manager at two very different, very unorganized companies. From losing three good friends to the war in Iraq. It comes from the knowledge that another four of “my boys” are returning to the Sandbox, one of them for a thrid tour of duty, and two will be patroling Tikrit- the very place we lost Drew. It comes from struggling through a marriage with a man who lied in order to convince me to marry him, and who apparantly didn’t feel the need to remain faithful. It comes from coming to terms with the knowledge that, after only a year, a marriage that was supposed to last forever was already over. It comes from trying to get him to agree to things so we don’t have to go through the courts. It comes from contemplating a restraining order on some days because he has taken his obsession to a whole new level of creepy messages, threatening voicemails, following me, and making my life as difficult as possible by refusing to leave me alone or let me go until I “agree to be friends”. It comes from beinga  pawn in the games my parents play with one another. It comes from having the shoulder I was always able to lean on pulled away suddenly because he didn’t approve of my choice of husband. It comes from desperately trying to gain a word of encouragement from my mother, who, no matter how hard I try, and even if I’ve volunteered to help, tells me nothing other than what I’m doing wrong. It comes from having a miscarriage, and then receiving the devastating news that I may or may not ever be able to have children. It comes from being in love with a man for over eight years, knowing it will never amount to anything because he won’t take the first step and I’ve been hurt every time I’ve put myself out there for him. It comes from not being able to talk to my best friend about that guy- because they are one and the same. It comes from being shunned by a church because they found out about my past. It comes from struggling ever day to remember how beautiful and worthy of love I truly am- and then receive a huge blow to that battle when I hear a group of boys whisper not so quietly to one another about how fat I am, or hearing a stick-thin friend complain about how fat she is- and then tell me I “don’t understand because (I’m) a big girl who is confident about herself”! It comes from waking up at 4 am to take care of the dog before showering and getting to work by 5, working a 7 hour shift with no real breaks(knowing full well I was scheduled only 7 hours so they wouldn’t have to) and listening to customers complain because they had to wait two and a hald minutes for their skinny, half-caff, sugar-free caramel, extra hot latte and then get it and it has more froth than they like so I have to remake it (forget about the seven people standing in line waiting for their drinks who are going to complain to me because they waited two minutes and forty five seconds for their lattes). I comes from having to smile, apologize, and remake it three times until it’s “just right” (never mind it wound up with the exact same amount of froth as the first one…). It comes from finishing that shift, quickly changing in the bathroom, and racing to Blaine to punch in 5 minutes late hoping no one will notice (even though it’s only happening because my boss there is an idiot and keeps forgetting I’m supposed to have certain days off to work at my other jobs). It comes from sliding into my spot behind the customer service desk just in time to answer a ringing phone and suddenly remember I’ve forgotten to eat anything that day (again). It comes from the person on the other end of the phone being of the distinct impression that rules and policies don’t apply to them, and then cussing me out because I won’t make an exception about the policy that I have no authority to change. It comes from the same person storming into the store later that evening, demanding to see a manager and then having that manager grant the exception (Keep in mind this is the very same manager who refused to take the call earlier that day and told me to tell the customer that there were “absolutely no exceptions!”). It comes from working there until 9 and getting home at 10 and playing with my dog for an hour while I try to stuff some food down my throat before I go to bed at 11 only to have to get up at 4 and do it all again the next day. It comes from the daily observation that aggressive, impatient, rude people seem to always get what they want, while the kind and considerate people of this world get absolutely nothing in return for their patience and understanding. It comes from seeing all of this and still choosing to not give into the urge to become a bully to get my way. It comes from putting all of my spare energy and time into my hopes and dreams and then having them yanked out from under me as soon as I make any progress. It comes from all of this and so much more.

My soul is tired-

When will it get to sleep…?