Of Breakdowns and God.

I sit up. I breathe for a minute. I lift my shaking hands to my face. I push my tear-wet hair back with weak fingertips. I pull pieces of matted hair off my chin. I push the tears back away from my swollen eyes and hold my fingertips to the puffy skin under my eyes. My neck is wet, my chest, my baby hairs. I slowly pull my legs around and cross them. My head is just too heavy to lift right now, but I open my eyes. Theres a little blood on my knee and some on the bathroom floor. I dont wish him to see me like this, tho he watched the whole thing. I’m embarrassed. I feel the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I always do infront of him. I hate my breakdowns. Espcially infront of him.

I can see him out of my peripheral vision. Hes sitting on the floor leaning on the wall. His knees are up. His arms are resting on his knees, but on hand is grabbing his chin. Hes watching me. Hes not moving. Just staring. I can tell his heart is racing by how heavy his chest is moving when he breathes. We sit in thick silence. That was a hard one. My chin starts to quiver and tears seep.

“please go…” I manage to whisper.
He says nothing. He doesnt move.
“please…”

I lift my head and my eyes meet his. His eyes are deep and searching and intentional and they always take me by suprise, regardless the situation. His eyes are so deliberate and sensational and pleading and soft. His face is serious and panged with exhaustion. His brows are furrowed and the panes of his face bare straight lines from where his tears trampled his skin. He keeps staring, but I have to look away. He lets a deep breath out and drops his head to grab his hair and push it back. I rarely see him this distraught. I never see him this distraught unless its because of me.. of my episodes. Hes never at a loss of what to do, but when it comes to this, he feels helpless. Maybe even hopeless. And its always only becuse of the messes I make.

“just go.”
-no.
….
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didnt mean what I said. Its just… I’m just… I’m sor-”
-Stop. You can’t hurt me enough for me to leave. You know this.
“you’re mad, arn’t you? ..please don’t be mad.”
He sighs. -Its hard to stay mad at you, but yea. I’m mad. I’m mad that you forget about me. I’m mad that you can live your life without me. I’m mad that the only time you ever want me around is when you’re losing control of your heart and your mind. I’m mad that you never open the doors for me.. it makes me feel unwelcome. Thats why I dont bother asking if I can come over anymore. But then, when I hear you screaming for me? when I hear you wailing in pain and I hear you thrashing yourself around? I can’t help myself. I can’t help myself, Gabrielle… I have to come. I have to be here. I have to sit here with you and I have to because I love you too much not to come. I’m yours. And you’re mine. Even when you don’t want me…

He doesn’t say much, but when he does.. its enough to murder me with guilt.
“I want you..” I plead.

Those words come from the marrow in my bones and are cloaked in pain and weigh heavy with desire for his approval. I want him so bad it hurts. I don’t like upsetting him. I hate myself when I do. He doesnt deserve this. I dont deserve him.
When he doesnt respond, I start to cry. I wipe the tears away with the back of my wrists. He gently takes me by forearms and pulls me into him. I can’t help the feeling of securtiy when he pulls me closer to him. I give in and collapse on his shoulder. He moves his legs closer to me, cradling my weight with his legs. He smells like the bedsheets of my soul. His skin is so warm, almost too warm. His jaw flexes and he leans his head back to the wall. He twirls a piece of my hair. Right here, right where I’m supposed to be, I feel loved. Like I was meant. As if I am on purpose.

-I want you, too. All the time. When I’m not around, its not because I don’t want to be. I want to waste all my time with you. I know your breakdowns, but I dont know what to do except sit here with you. And quit telling me to leave. Because I wont. Let me stay here with you. Let me be apart of you. Just please, let me take care of you. I know we have eternity, but let me be here until then. I love you, Gabrielle…

Oneday, it’ll be worth it. Oneday, your breakdowns will earn merit, your hatred for confusion will be soothed and confusion will be no more. Oneday, you’ll know peace like you’ve never felt… we all will.
I promise, you’ll be with me when I burn this world.

he actually isnt for sale….

 

I tell God He’s late for lunch.
But then, He’s never late.

Its 1970 and my mother did something she shouldn’t. She was six years old then and in some kind of trouble with her teacher. Mrs. Smith sends her straight to the principle who waste no time calling my grandmother and explaining, in shamful tones, the evil deed her daughter did. Then, without further ado and not one more second thought, bends my six year old mother over his knee and spanks her three times. Three to be exact. Six year old, doe-eyed, Robin Louise sat on her sore bum awaiting the arrival of her mother. Mother came and it wasnt a ranting and raving How Dare You Touch My Daughter disaster, no, it was a How Dare You Misbehave shaming of my little girl mom infront of her teacher and principle.
1970 was a different time…

I am 24 and the year is 2013. My son is two and with this comes an unbelievable amount of challenge and struggle. The key word being “unbelievable” mainly because I denied this day would come. He was just so darn sweet, ya know…

I wake up too early and I look at my self in the mirror. My hair looks like this and my face looks like that and my body is riddled to threads, but I breathe in, say my affirmations, and continue with the day. Because afterall, this day is a gift and God is already in it.

Today? This moning? God was here, but somewhere over there. Maybe in the garden or something, because He wasnt right next to me where I thought He damned sure shouldve better been. No, He was waiting for the furry to be over with so I could take my breather and Oh, there You are! Where the frick have you been?! Did you SEE that tantrum my son threw? UGH! |As I avoid His gaze thru the rose petals and take a long drag of a guilty pleasure.|
I wait a minute and in that minute decide to get out of the house. Have fun. Breathe with my kiddo. Hes growing and doesnt understand just as much as I dont. We go to the park. We run. We tire out and head to mom’s favorite antique store. But its not longer my favorite place. Its no longer my favorite place becuase on the way out of the store I was chastized and crucified as a “horrible mother”.  My child let out a yell and I ignored it. I wish there was more to tell you, I wish I could tell you I beat my son or something outstanding, but no. I just ignored an angry yelp from my angry two year old. Something I’ve been advised to do by all those who have surpassed me in motherhood.

Before I could catch my breath, the store owner ripped the tablecoth away from me, told me I didnt deserve children, and proceeded to call the cops.

So there I stood. Already feeling like I no longer have a grip on things. Like I’m hurting my son emtionally for JUST NOT UNDERSTANDING. Already going thru a rough morning and trying to take the higher road. the better mom road. not just all this, but my very intune little boy heard every word and every bit of the evil ideas of who she thinks I am as his mother. he saw the little tears I tried to just swallow and in the middle of my her rating, he kissed me. and I held him a little tighter. and in that kiss I felt God whisper, “I’m right here….”

I flee. little boy in my arms. tears gushing. I’m tired of crying infront of my little boy. another fail.

….

The man who raised me is telling me to put on my breastplate because unfortunately, this is just the first of many swords to come, to climb every building and bang my chest and knock planes out of the skies and roar for my baby. that this is just a moment. that this isnt 1970 where actionistic discipline was normal, where people took the other extreme and shit got done. but then, hes only 730 days out of my body and needs a lot more time.

This is the thing about people with thick hard shells. they can take a lot. a LOT. but its all they have. they depend on it. once it cracks, they fall out all over the place. theres not a lot of toughness on the inside.

I’m working on finding God in the Garden before the furry.

 

Rabbit and Fox: A Love Story.

“Good job trapping me in this hole.”
Said Rabbit to Fox.
“But ye cannot trap my soul. Rip back my fur-lined skin, let my blood run thin. I cannot bound further, I accept, I will make thine belly thicker, but before my death, might I ask of thee this one request?”

Drooling from her fangs, shanking from hunger’s pangs, fox steps back, stunned by food’s brave attack.

Then haunched rabbit, murmming his soft plea…
“Make it quick, I beg of thee. I am old and I’ve survived many colds. I’ve fought your father, but alas, I have not the strength to fight his daughter. You see my tears are swelling, tis true, I’m scared of this deathly passing. My flesh is yours to feast, this heart? it shall no longer beat, but be ye gentle? Be ye humble? Enjoy me, I can hear thine stomach grumble. And After ye have licked thine lips and lapped my blood, take notice of how high my soul has sprung. The snow is deep, but my soul is deeper. The air is frigid, but it is not my soul’s keeper. Your fangs might sear, but my soul is far from near. It is far, far from here. This soul of mine will be hard to find, but truthfully I pray to thee, I hope ye are not blind.  I pray ye find rest from this snow’s wretched quest. I do not mind being thine, but pray, find that soul of mine. It knows warmth and peace I cannot preach. It knows the colors of unseen flowers, but most importantly,  it knows all of Heaven’s powers. My body shows of no knowledge, but that soul of mine, it knows all hope and love divine. I pray ye are not blind, find that soul of mine.”

With failed restraint, Fox begins to quake. Her gaze shifts. Breaks. Tears take over her hungry face. Her fur beneath her eyes are flooded by all of love’s suprising triumph. Her lips uncurl and her heart unfurls and what comes forth, changes the world…

“Rabbit, your soul is everything I seek. Might I find it without death’s peak? With your prayer, my hunger I can bear. It is my soul I’m needing to feed, and if thine words be true, it is all my belly needs. But I cannot move ye to death, instead keep thy breath. Might I find another way of finding thy soul’s escape?”

“I wish it differently, tis true, but my love runs deeper thru and thru. Feed thee me and blessed be, your soul’s salvation set free.”

With tears in both their eyes, now blinded by pure love’s disguise. No longer doth it matter who they are, for pure love is no longer far. With a gentle snap of rabbit’s neck and with humble scarifice served, both Rabbit and Fox are bound together by love’s strongest nerve. And because of Rabbit’s ultimate giving, Fox now feels his grace unheeding. She spilt his blood, she lay in the flood. Her wailing heard, Rabbit’s soul undisturbed. Her guilt rocks her to sleep, but his soul she will always keep.

{ In This Autumn }

*

as if this is the first horizon i’ve seen.

burning hot red.

its calm.

like morning new is.

*

you know when you think you know yourself fully? all your thougts and emotions and beliefs and likes and dislikes?

and then it sorta just… changes?
not because of life changing events. but just because life is changing.

*

i dont like certian things anymore. like pants.

i dont like schools. is it questionable for a high-school drop out to school her young home?

i dont like grocery stores. for the only reason of seeing my reflection in my fruit.

i like routine. once swore by fate and wind, i now like rhythm.

*

i’m hoping this is some new foreign woman leaf thats turning because i actually like it.
maybe the girl tree is a little stronger now? maybe deployment has broke my bones and shoved real life into my hands and it grew me?

changed me?
i dont know. i dont know a lot. but i want to.

*

i want to be soft. pretty. deep. quiet. humble. modest. a reader. a thinker. funny. gentle. gentle. gentle.
i crave these things. i opened my holy book and its still whispering. whispering sweet everythings.

in this Autumn i will unfold with the changes. the convictions. the God i barely hear in the whispers.

*

and this is illness.

-

it lay there on it’s fine china, in all it’s glutton and calls me a whore and tells me to thank him when I die.

it stares at me waiting. and when i choke and can’t breath, it laughs it’s belly laugh.

-

and then night comes and God is gone and voices are left unheard.

because sin breaks the telephone cord.

-

in darkness it growls at me.
laps up my blood with all its lust.

-

and then bones show and pictures cant lie.
and im not doing this on purpose
but i cant seem to get my fingers around the handle right.

-

i read and read and some say its lack of blood flow to certain regions of the brain.
and then i pray and hope that maybe this is true.
with truth comes cures

that maybe this isnt something forever.

-

i paint my nails just to pick the polish off.
just to keep my hands doing something.

[ this is illness. ]

-

On which I live life without a planner.

and fail.

while I lay on the couch with husband, my head at one end and his at the other end, I weep.
and whine. mostly whine. truth.

I weep whine about how unhappy I am and how angry I am because I have no reason to be. I weep because I know God has BEEELESSSSSED me with everything a housewife mom needs and wants, yet I can’t make eye contact with husband who stares gently because I’m ashamed of how much more I want.  truth.

“…theres just too many effing PEOPLE. I cant go anywhere without there being 800 people in that exact same spot. and it takes me passing thru 800 zackjillion more people first. I hate cities….   I want a house I can deep clean and feel good about it. but then I wake up every morning to that hair thats been painted into the bathroom wall that I just. can’t. get. off.  I want organization. breakfast, lunch, and dinner made. I want a small town. I want you to be happy and love life. I want a home that is ours. only ours. I want a garden that I dont have to leave someday….. really tho, I just want PEACE WITHIN MYSELF.”

and then I did that weird stuttered sigh people do after they cry.

the next day husband told me to sketch up the interiors of my dream home.
“Do it and know that I’ll take it very seriously. lets make this happen. for real.”

I havent yet. I got sidetracked. because while I was pulling out my sketch paper from my nightstand, my old planner fell out and onto the floor.
skimming thru it, I remembered the days of waking up and making breakfast and lunch and dinner and taking family walks and cleaning the toilet before my mother came over and making grocery lists with ACTUAL meals planned with those lists and sketches of smiley faces and check marks and silly affirmations that looked a lot like this, “You rock this ‘mom’ thing!” after I made a seven month old all organic veggie lunches and a nice fat ”FINISHED” when I completed my to-do lists. nearly every single day. I had that peace I need now.

But I have to make my inner peace happen. and I’m okay with that. infact, I think thats what I have to do all the time to be happy, right?

“there are those who are happier with much less than you.”
“the happiness of a person depends on the quailty of their thoughts.”
truth.

If I have to make a conscience effort to make sure peace of mind and happiness and comfort real for me.. well, then let me just turn to the right month in this planner…..

x.

//

 

colorado springs.

 

I dont know anything about it.
but from google images.. it looks nice.

 

we have major planning to do.
and its rather intimidating.

 

normally, with a new move and new people and new scenery and new starts, I lose myself in the excitement. maybe because I was a child and had parents to depend on. military life is all I’ve ever known. except for the barely two years on the outside which happened to be THE HARDEST year and a half of my tiny twelve years of life. divorce looming, angry battles, runaways, dog attacks, homeschooling, not knowing a single soul. and yes, I list it with much lack of emotion. it was an ugly year and a half…

its the only barely two years of being “on the outside” that I know of. even tho I know it will be so very different this time, its still naturally intimidating.

and this time, its just husband and I and our little one.. if we fail, we really fail.
so I’m swallowing fear and forcing it down.
and as of now, we’re sketching out blueprints of a home.
daydreaming of a friendly neighborhood and happy barbeques.
of colorado living and all its unknowns.
maybe a nice church.
hopefully some empty space without oceanside population, streetlights, and people, people, people..

 

I want this “outside” living and raising family.
but I’m nervous.

 

 

{ … }

“there is nothing greater than ones own. there is not one thing greater than the ones who love you. there is nothing greater than that of an emptied full heart.”
she said to me thru paper written letters. envelopes with ink stained smears.
i sit. stare. i didnt understand.
emptied full?
corners were bent in my mind over this. emptied full. i let silence actually soak in.
its raining outside. doesnt it always seem to rain when these corners form.
the pack of eight coyotes howl and wine. I know so because they lounge in my yard at midnight.

the owl hoots.
i smiled at the memory of husband’s laughs in the darkness of a man-filled blanket covered bed as I lean out the window and hoot back.
we have genuine rhythm that owl and i.

emptied full.
the candle flickers with gentle vigor. this toddler scratched old wooden table wobbles when I collapse in hands propped up by elbows.
midnight comes to angrily.
pulling annoying baby hairs back and slamming internet life drainers closed, I visualize the words “emptied full.”
and then His voice booms in with the thunder.
the true Thor.

emptied full. when the only pennies left are given to the tired man on the corner.
emptied full. when i have nothing left and still get out of bed to sooth scared boy.
emptied full. when words release and emotions hang in the balance of fear and relief.
emptied full. when gratefullness and guilt sink in together like ink and water at the smell of man. ones deeply loved don’t have this.
emptied full. when i realize how selfish this body and mind are and crumble at the humbleness of every. single. blessing.
emptied full. when heart is swollen at the thought that having everything is nothing to Him.

emptied full. when He takes my thoughts and repleces them with His.
emptied full. when He takes His Hands and pulls out of these cracked chest bones the embers of passion.
emptied full. when He looks deeper in my eyes and sees what I can’t.
emptied full. when he whispers, “you will be with me when I burn this world.”

 

emptied full. knowing this is not my Home.

 

 

home.

you smell like cedar.
pine.
rain.
sweat.

you taste like a thousand breaths I cant seem to take.

you’re familiar. warm.
I know you.

we lay here. you and I.
you on your side, holding your head up with your hand.
me, on my back, as close to you as I can be.
my head turned into you chest.

your leg laying between mine. my feet touching yours.
you push my hair behind my ear and expose my skin.
trace your finger the length of my clavicle.
your eyes are soft and deep.

your heartbeat resinates thru my veins.

quiet. easy.

“shh.” and you push the forming crease on my chin smooth with your thumb.
I bury my face in deeper to your chest.
“shh.” and you push the tear back from my eye. nose. lips.

I wrap my arm around your torso and pull myself into you.
my nose and lips under your chin. resting on you neck.
the smell of you.
you lay your head down and push your arm beneath my head.
your other arm holds me. swallows me.

we lay, facing each other’s soul.
knotted. your skin on mine.
if rooms can breath emotion… then this place is whole.

I will never need air, as long as I can beathe you.

come home.

like always, it drips in.
there are stains on the baseboards from the rain that swallows this bedroom.
2:14am and my face is emotionless.

my chest gets tighter.
I can see it rise under my line of vision.
filling to the brim.

they fall. of course they fall. I close my eyes and breathe. trace this room’s history….

he slides underneath the blankets. his left hand and whole arm scoop me around my waste and he pulls me in. I can feel his heartbeat between my shoulder blades. he smells like oak and patchouli. like rain and aspen. he sighs and kisses my ear.  I squeeze in tighter. his knees behind mine. our feet tangle and rest. his bicep underneath my head. our fingers like puzzle pieces. even they fit perfectly together.
we whisper about baby. about the morrow. tiny words. soft words. sleeping words. silence falls and after awhile, he whispers he loves me… “as far as the sky goes…”
he cant see it, but I smile. kiss his knuckles. “I love you, too.”

the warmth of body-filled blankets. the fullness of knowing this is forever. even until after. if vines intertwine, so have our veins. if planets orbit, so do our minds. our blood soaked hearts. our souls.

2:36am and the rain still drips.