Life lesson, part III

The truth is that the more intimately you know someone, the more clearly you’ll see their flaws. That’s just the way it is. This is why marriages fail, why children are abandoned, why friendships don’t last. You might think you love someone until you see the way they act when they’re out of money or under pressure or hungry, for goodness’ sake. Love is something different. Love is choosing to serve someone and be with someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind, love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain and sacrifice, it’s seeing the darkness in another person and defying the impulse to jump ship.

- The Great Kamryn

sometimes words kick your ass. 

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Support.

I had dinner with one of my mentors and her adorable daughter the other night. My mentor is also crazy. I say crazy in the best form possible but she knows EVERYTHING about everybody and if she doesn’t know information, get confused and realize she’s just not on her A-game. 

She assured me of something the other day.  I have support. Especially, as I’m making this practically insane move, something that seems to make sense to everyone of my confidantes. Usually the response goes I told you so. Why didn’t you do this over a year ago.

Let’s not go through all the reasons of WHY NOT. I’m sure it would be a rather painful process and I’m just not in an emotional state to handle that.

I feel overwhelmed with all the people who are there for me. I adore you all.

I’m going to miss random boba adventures, talking one of best friend into trips when she is half-drunk, catchphrase and drenga nights, beach days and sunsets, nannying some of the coolest kids and falling asleep in their beds when the parents come home, cross-country road trips,  et cetera.

It’s been real.

And you guys are killing me.

Filling the void.

Communication is hard,

source: il lee

in any situation really. Some people are worse at it than others. I am great about calling people out when there communication sucks. But when it comes to me, I act like I am perfect at it. It's probably the stubbornness in me.  I'm a real jackass when it comes to being critiqued. Truthfully, I really suck at communicating. Something about it is exhausting and I find myself shutting down when I have to communicate in different situations. I just act like nothing is happening or someone isn't talking to me.  More so recently than in other times.

Long distance is hard.  Although, I'm quite biased, my situation is worse than others. (I'm much luckier than others too.) 
Long distance communication is even harder.
Especially when there is a disconnect and finding ways to connect proves to be harder than the day before and the day before that. Where you find yourself spinning and spinning into a black-hole. You start losing sight of what really matters, vision becomes foggy and anything that happened before just gets pushed aside. You just kind of forget it all and bury yourself even deeper into the void.

When people begin asking questions.  Sometimes a blank stare and shrug is all that can be mustered. Because maybe actually talking to somebody about it could actually be worse, depending on what day it is and how you're feeling for that day. Which most days you rarely feel a thing. 

I know how this sounds, this sounds awful. And it actually is. This is a constant battle. 

Then the question arises. 

Why are we doing this? 

Then there are other days where you meet a complete stranger. Where you have to start from the beginning. Where the beginning begins putting the fight back in to you. Where Divine appointment results in prayer and encouragement. When you feel at your emptiest only to remember that the beginning started with Divine appointment. 

The fight continues. 

filling the void, when there is no form. 

Hoarding.

Hoarding. 

I would call myself a mild hoarder. I try to save everything and attempt to find a use for it. But eventually, I get tired with all the mess and just start throwing stuff away. Often times I regret my decisions. Usually a week or so later, I will decide that I truly needed--------- (insert object here). 

But then there are those times that I'm so glad I hoard things. Like last night. I was going through all my old college papers/notes. Yes, I still have most everything. In my defense a lot of it is various writings and things that I would hopefully deem useful if I went to grad school. Sometimes I dwell on the idea that I used to write. Here is one of those findings. 

It's that time again. Wednesday. Three O' Clock. Screenwriting 2009. There is a classroom and a handful of students sitting in the second row, closest to the aisle-- Sam sits. Medium height girl with grey eyes and constant out of control wavy hair. She stares into space. Maybe another world, maybe another universe.  

          "Sam," said the Professor.  

No sound, no response.  

          "Sam, are you present?"  

Still nothing.  

Sam blinks. She is sitting in Zimbabwe. The sky is pitch black and all she can see are the stars above her. Sam is a meidum height girl with grey eyes and her hair is even more out of control because she hasn't showered or touched her hair in five days. She gazes at the stars and ponders.  

         "Sam," said Jayde.  

Nothing, no response. 

        "See any shooting stars yet?" 

Sam blinks.  

        "Ever wish you were somewhere else," she murmurs. 

Just to give you a little back story. This was written months after I met this boy. This was written almost 2 years before I started dating him. I think I've been rather smitten for more than a little while. 

Dying of a broken heart

I've been contemplating the heart lately. Contemplating the soul. What that looks like. What that means.

 Then even more in depth,  when you throw love in the mix. What that is supposed to feel like.  And most importantly, be like. Because I've been learning that love is more than just an adjective it is a verb. It is a call to action amongst whatever love comes in contact with or whom.

I heard a story in the office today, a woman's father-in-law passed away last week. Then she got news a week later that her mother-in-law passed as well. The cause of death, a broken heart. During that week she would explain that her chest hurt but nothing was causing the pain. Nothing medically proven that is.

She died of a broken heart. I've heard stories like this before.  I've read stories about it. Even in science journals. It is trended that it occurs mostly in women.

The Heart

Mayo Clinic's definition:

Broken heart syndrome is a temporary heart condition brought on by stressful situations, such as the death of a loved one. People with broken heart syndrome may have sudden chest pain or think they're having a heart attack. These broken heart syndrome symptoms may be brought on by the heart's reaction to a surge of stress hormones. In broken heart syndrome, a part of your heart temporarily enlarges and doesn't pump well, while the remainder of the heart functions normally or with even more forceful contractions. . .

The symptoms of broken heart syndrome are treatable, and the condition usually reverses itself in about a week.

The heart is an interesting thing. It's function is more than just a mechanical to the way the body works. It pumps blood but it is the root of life.  So when we look at the idea of someone dying of a broken heart we see this.

Source: nike53.bilddagboken.se via Karin on Pinterest

 The point is the heart has taken an action derived by love. Whether lost or present. But if the heart is more than just a function of pumping blood what else is it attached to?  It is attached your soul. Our soul is who we are and that directly relates to what we do. One without the other seems to be, from what I understand, impossible.

For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Proverbs 2:10

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Matthew 11:29

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Psalm 84:2

Source: myrevelment.com via Samantha on Pinterest

When it comes to love and what that looks like, I've had a hard time differentiating a lot especially in my relationship with God. I've never had to share him before. Maybe my usage is wrong in this case but that's how I feel. Especially the more vulnerable I become with another. I find my thoughts go to this man that I love and feel guilty. Because words I might think about God have now poured over to how I feel about a person.  "I am my beloveds' and he is mine."  It is confusing for me. Through time, I find I've started neglecting God and that's something I've never want to do. But love with another is a good thing. Read Song of Solomon, there is beauty in that and God created that for me.

Source: etsy.com via Samantha on Pinterest

I have been processing this thought for almost a year now. It's been an emotional struggle. And I begin to understand why some people commit their lives to celibacy-- to never lose site of the one who gave it all. But God knew that wasn't for everyone because we long relationship. We long to love. I long to love.

Source: etsy.com via Samantha on Pinterest

Some wait their entire lives to find the closest thing to that. Some never find it. The important thing is love but love who you encounter as we are taught to love. We are taught to love with our whole heart. Thinking like that is when I begin to understand how someone could die of a broken heart because they loved with everything they had.