If You Get Nothing Else: Take Back The Life You Need
I really do not know
how to start this post, but my mind has been reverting back to the same thought
for about a week now, and I feel compelled to share--the best way I know
how--as other things close in relation are brought to my attention.
I have not posted much this year other than what I refer to as my lyrics, and maybe even a poem or two. The only blog I posted, with a few "words" or thoughts was at the very start of the year, January 1 to be exact--just a couple of paragraphs before one of my short stories. (As of now, it has been reverted to a draft due to me collecting a portfolio).
My silence was for a reason.
To get a full scope, I have to go back two years.
2016, I felt like I was battling my way through hell. On one side, I had all these losses, stemming from another person. Throughout most of that year, I was pushing through that--really getting close to God, really centering myself through different outlets, which led to many wins that were unexpected as well. I was getting familiar with me again, learning new stuff about myself and accepting things as they were. However, in November, still fighting just to stay positive and full of faith, I was struck with my family's kitchen ceiling caving in, due to pipes that had frozen and busted, flooding most of the house.
My family was in different spaces at the time. The house was vacant, unless I came home from my apartment at school to visit for holidays, or just trips to be around my mom, who was in a facility, due to her health condition. I had no one to help me with the grunt work. I was completely broken, and for a short period, felt like all my hard work of raising myself from ashes had been erased out of nowhere.
I found my way out, though. I was able to get a hold of the knowledge I had gained from building my faith and started doing whatever I had to do to get the house back whole again--no matter how empty I had already thought it felt and wanted to sell it.
That kitchen had a hole in it until March of 2017--when I was out for spring break. I could not have been happier with the job done. And let me just say, it was not easy, because even though I am a POA for my mom, a thousand challenging obstacles existed to the point I thought that hole was going to be there forever.
It seemed like a good start. I was in the midst of graduating college, and had a trip planned to a city I had always wanted to go to. Other wins were happening with my writing, and I was full of just moving forward. There was little chaos in my life, except the things I could not control; no other factors from others.
Once graduation hit, I was not thinking heavily of my after college life; I felt like anything was possible, and I was taking those steps. I did know, for sure, that I wanted to move out of Kentucky as soon as I could--preferably within a year of graduating.
Traveling became a huge part of me simply enjoying life, opening my eyes to all the possibilities bigger than myself. Come July of 2017, during one of those trips, I did not really expect to crash on an interstate, miraculously walking away with my life, but totaling my car. I was, literally, stranded in a city I still deplore, only able to get my shit together, within less than a day, sell my old car for scrap metal and buy a new car to get me to my apartment nearly two hours away.
I fell into a dark space.
Over the days, I had many emotions hit me, regarding the accident. For one, I was jobless. I had taken a break of working during the holiday before my last semester started--to work on my writing--so, then, I was certain I should not have done that. I obviously had not hopped into a job after graduating, so now I had a car payment that had not been present, and higher car insurance to worry about. If we are being honest, I thought God should have let me die in the wreck. I felt I could not really catch a break.
But I did not give up.
I moved out of my apartment before my lease was up--just a couple of weeks. The town I was in made me feel like I was a ghost; I had no more reasons to be there. I had one friend around, but we were not as close as we are today, so I was, basically, alone. Any other time, I might would have been okay with alone, but my thoughts were too negative.
I was back in my hometown house for good. I knew I needed funds to not deplete myself, and I am not good with being jobless anyways, so I quickly obtained two jobs. Might can say I wanted out of that house as much as possible (it was not a home like it used to be to me anymore) or maybe I just wanted my brain focused on other things 24/7 (I had no days off between the two, unless I requested), or maybe it was to get my funds up from all the time I had been jobless. Or all.
Either way, I was building myself back up, once more, even though I continuously found myself on a roller coaster of emotions and having honest chats with God often about what direction I needed to be heading.
I started traveling again toward the end of 2017. Not as much, but I wanted to face my fear of traveling head-on after the accident and still live. I would tell myself that God allowed me to survive for a reason, and that with Him, I had nothing to fear.
Then came January 1, 2018.
That very late night/morning that I posted Angels Fall, I woke up to a rude awakening.
The one night I forgot to let the pipes drip in below 30 degree weather, the pipes froze in the very same spot in the kitchen. I was crying and freaking out, making calls to my mom, my dad and my sister about what to do to prevent another pipe burst. God knew I did not want that. I even reached out to a friend that knows a lot about that stuff. I was doing everything I could.
But I had to go to work.
I could not focus. I was on edge. I was praying hella hard. I was crying in the bathroom. I was a mess, trying to make up deals with God and all.
Working a double, I had an hour break that allowed me to drive back home and see the progress of the sink. It was the same.
Best believe I went back just as a mess as I was before. But I was not making deals anymore. And I was not visibly crying. In my head, all I could say over and over: "It's in your hands, Lord."
I was gone for another four hours, only to open the door to almost two inches of water throughout the entire house this time.
I felt my heart take a huge leap out of my chest--or at least that was what it felt like. How crazy of me to have been praying, I thought then. What good had that done me?
Another hole was in the ceiling of the kitchen, but not as huge as the one before. But I remembered the stress and just all the crap I had to navigate through to get the house fixed the first time. It had not even been a year.
I was angry. I was sad. But I was not alone.
I was lucky, that second time around, to have an amazing person immediately drive from his town to mine and just hold me as I broke down, trying to get this mess of a familiar puzzle together again. And he even started raking the water out of the house as the insurance company sent people out to start the process of draining and all that stuff. On top of that, another family friend opened her home to me, which I became a "roommate" for the next month at.
For them, I am forever grateful. I was still shattered, but they made it a lot easier for me to get myself back together compared to last time.
More was unable to be saved that time around. Carpet was ripped up, kitchen cabinets, the sink, dishwasher, stove and oven were ripped out. Everything in every room was either boxed or strewn around in random spots. Base boards also gone.
So there I was, displaced from my house, still managing to work both jobs, while dealing with greater crap from the new insurance we had signed with, trying my best to fix the house again, and my faith took a greater hit.
I felt a disconnect from God. I stopped talking to Him. I stopped going to Him. I was numb. I felt that as much positivity I had been seeking and trying to put out, He had turned His back on me, like it never meant anything. I knew things like this was why people turn their back on Him.
I went back to that house the way it was--torn, cluttered. It was an anomaly on my life that I was not completely happy about, but I was content for the time. Making money and saving had been my main goal, and I was thinning myself between both jobs, but I saw the end goal as worth it.
I would sit in that house, on my bed, and simply look around what used to be my bedroom. I spent hours doing that, especially at night. My internet was on hiatus from the damage. I got rid of cable. All I had were movies to watch and my laptop to write. I did both very rarely.
That forced me to start talking to God again.
I told Him how angry I was. I told him how much He had hurt me. I cried, countless times. I screamed, hearing the walls echo back. I pounded my fist into covers. And then, I fought.
The mere reason I went back to that home in the first place was because I could not give the house the attention I needed to (organizing things back, getting rid of some, etc.) being away from it. Also, I do not like being a burden. I knew the family friend was okay with me staying, but I do not like relying on people if it can be helped. And it could. I had the power to help myself.
Come March, I booked a flight to go out West. I could visit my sister, niece, dad and a close friend. And not only that, I needed the vacation. I was working and working, and putting up with the house. I refused to allow myself to go into as dark as a place as I had been the year before.
I did not know what I was doing. I did not even know if I should have booked the flight. But once I pushed that button for confirmation, there was no going back. So I just did it.
I was able to get over a week off from both jobs and simply live again. Escape. I thought nothing about the house the entire trip. I felt like me again.
I had taken back my life.
The return from the trip was not as hard as I thought it would be. The very same night/morning I arrived back, I went into work later that morning for a double. I recall standing there, and I wanted to cry all of a sudden. I was talking about my mom and how things for her were not looking up where she was at to a co-worker, and I sort of mentioned about putting in my two weeks notice, never having thought of it before then. I am certain talking about my mom was part of what had triggered the tears, but deep down, I think I knew that I had to do more to truly take back my life, and not just for a week.
I was putting my first foot forward to end a life phase of mine, and my mom's.
I was signing two weeks papers that very same day. And there was no turning back from that.
I did it with my other job as well.
I did not know what the hell I was doing. But then I started selling stuff out of the house. And things I never even thought would sale, people were just hitting me up, and things were slowly disappearing. I was making runs on breaks, before work, after work--any time I could get minutes in--to deliver or meet up, or be at home for them to come get the bigger things.
Even then, I did not know what the hell I was doing.
Before I knew it, I had ample amount to make my first trip to Texas with boxes of things. It was decided that I was going to uproot myself and my mom and move there. At this point in time, I thought: screw the house. I had gotten the ceiling in the kitchen fixed once more, but everything else, there was no need.
I talked to God many more times. I kept saying: "God, I don't know what I am doing, but You got this." And every action I took, that I did not know what I was doing, or what the outcome would be, I trusted that He was aligning everything up.
It was no one but God when I tell you I quit my jobs in April, I had made it safely back from my first trip to Texas, sold all but three things in the house, had my mom out of the facility within two months, and was leaving Kentucky for good. The house was also in the process of being sold.
It was also no one but God when Texas as my new residence was replaced by Arizona. God knew that the resources I needed for my mom and myself were more fitting in Arizona than Texas.
When I drove us, first, to Texas to switch out some boxes from my first trip with my second one and rest, I still did not know what I was doing. I did not know if what I was doing or the chain I had started was right. I just let go of the wheel, in a sense. When I finally got us to Arizona, I still had no clue what I was doing. But I can tell you that I was tired and I was open to all possibilities.
2018 is almost gone now. I have mentioned before that I see new years as not really new years, but a continuation of our journeys and experiences. Many people like to go in with their best foot forward, already have given up on the present, wanting a clean slate. But why can you not begin that clean state now?
I tell this story because you can go into the new year with hopes and this and that to make better, etc. but you can, like me, literally, have a curve ball tossed at you the very beginning of the year. Will you give up right then and there? Or will you refuse to accept the shit thrown at you, and take control of what you can?
I could not control most of these situations I had to deal with (maybe could play the would-of, should-of, could-of), but, ultimately, God mapped the path out, and it was up to me how I was going to maneuver it. Same is for you.
You do not like your job right now, put in your two weeks now. Search for something that will make you happy. You want to travel. Book that plane ticket today. You want to get stronger in religion. Open up the "manual" today.
I am not going to say that the results you want will come out of it right away. I am not going to say the results you want will come out of it at all. But God's results will surely show up right on time.
I was broken by someone. I have not felt the hurt in quite some time. I met a lot of other amazing people. I was able to open up to them differently. I was able to identify my needs, not just wants.
The house failed me with multiple things. I did not want to be in it anymore, even before the disasters. I did not want to live in Kentucky, where I felt my options were limited for multiple reasons. God forced the disasters to wake me the hell up and get me out of there like He knew my heart desired, like He knew I needed for more possibilities elsewhere.
I lost my old car, but walked away with my life. That car would have never lasted with the multiple trips I have taken in my new one. Therefore, I would not have even been able to leave the very place I wanted to get to the place He needed me.
Today, I can still say I do not know what I am doing. I am better rested, I still get shit thrown at me, but I am open to all possibilities that God has proven can come.
I have not posted much this year other than what I refer to as my lyrics, and maybe even a poem or two. The only blog I posted, with a few "words" or thoughts was at the very start of the year, January 1 to be exact--just a couple of paragraphs before one of my short stories. (As of now, it has been reverted to a draft due to me collecting a portfolio).
My silence was for a reason.
To get a full scope, I have to go back two years.
2016, I felt like I was battling my way through hell. On one side, I had all these losses, stemming from another person. Throughout most of that year, I was pushing through that--really getting close to God, really centering myself through different outlets, which led to many wins that were unexpected as well. I was getting familiar with me again, learning new stuff about myself and accepting things as they were. However, in November, still fighting just to stay positive and full of faith, I was struck with my family's kitchen ceiling caving in, due to pipes that had frozen and busted, flooding most of the house.
My family was in different spaces at the time. The house was vacant, unless I came home from my apartment at school to visit for holidays, or just trips to be around my mom, who was in a facility, due to her health condition. I had no one to help me with the grunt work. I was completely broken, and for a short period, felt like all my hard work of raising myself from ashes had been erased out of nowhere.
I found my way out, though. I was able to get a hold of the knowledge I had gained from building my faith and started doing whatever I had to do to get the house back whole again--no matter how empty I had already thought it felt and wanted to sell it.
That kitchen had a hole in it until March of 2017--when I was out for spring break. I could not have been happier with the job done. And let me just say, it was not easy, because even though I am a POA for my mom, a thousand challenging obstacles existed to the point I thought that hole was going to be there forever.
It seemed like a good start. I was in the midst of graduating college, and had a trip planned to a city I had always wanted to go to. Other wins were happening with my writing, and I was full of just moving forward. There was little chaos in my life, except the things I could not control; no other factors from others.
Once graduation hit, I was not thinking heavily of my after college life; I felt like anything was possible, and I was taking those steps. I did know, for sure, that I wanted to move out of Kentucky as soon as I could--preferably within a year of graduating.
Traveling became a huge part of me simply enjoying life, opening my eyes to all the possibilities bigger than myself. Come July of 2017, during one of those trips, I did not really expect to crash on an interstate, miraculously walking away with my life, but totaling my car. I was, literally, stranded in a city I still deplore, only able to get my shit together, within less than a day, sell my old car for scrap metal and buy a new car to get me to my apartment nearly two hours away.
I fell into a dark space.
Over the days, I had many emotions hit me, regarding the accident. For one, I was jobless. I had taken a break of working during the holiday before my last semester started--to work on my writing--so, then, I was certain I should not have done that. I obviously had not hopped into a job after graduating, so now I had a car payment that had not been present, and higher car insurance to worry about. If we are being honest, I thought God should have let me die in the wreck. I felt I could not really catch a break.
But I did not give up.
I moved out of my apartment before my lease was up--just a couple of weeks. The town I was in made me feel like I was a ghost; I had no more reasons to be there. I had one friend around, but we were not as close as we are today, so I was, basically, alone. Any other time, I might would have been okay with alone, but my thoughts were too negative.
I was back in my hometown house for good. I knew I needed funds to not deplete myself, and I am not good with being jobless anyways, so I quickly obtained two jobs. Might can say I wanted out of that house as much as possible (it was not a home like it used to be to me anymore) or maybe I just wanted my brain focused on other things 24/7 (I had no days off between the two, unless I requested), or maybe it was to get my funds up from all the time I had been jobless. Or all.
Either way, I was building myself back up, once more, even though I continuously found myself on a roller coaster of emotions and having honest chats with God often about what direction I needed to be heading.
I started traveling again toward the end of 2017. Not as much, but I wanted to face my fear of traveling head-on after the accident and still live. I would tell myself that God allowed me to survive for a reason, and that with Him, I had nothing to fear.
Then came January 1, 2018.
That very late night/morning that I posted Angels Fall, I woke up to a rude awakening.
The one night I forgot to let the pipes drip in below 30 degree weather, the pipes froze in the very same spot in the kitchen. I was crying and freaking out, making calls to my mom, my dad and my sister about what to do to prevent another pipe burst. God knew I did not want that. I even reached out to a friend that knows a lot about that stuff. I was doing everything I could.
But I had to go to work.
I could not focus. I was on edge. I was praying hella hard. I was crying in the bathroom. I was a mess, trying to make up deals with God and all.
Working a double, I had an hour break that allowed me to drive back home and see the progress of the sink. It was the same.
Best believe I went back just as a mess as I was before. But I was not making deals anymore. And I was not visibly crying. In my head, all I could say over and over: "It's in your hands, Lord."
I was gone for another four hours, only to open the door to almost two inches of water throughout the entire house this time.
I felt my heart take a huge leap out of my chest--or at least that was what it felt like. How crazy of me to have been praying, I thought then. What good had that done me?
Another hole was in the ceiling of the kitchen, but not as huge as the one before. But I remembered the stress and just all the crap I had to navigate through to get the house fixed the first time. It had not even been a year.
I was angry. I was sad. But I was not alone.
I was lucky, that second time around, to have an amazing person immediately drive from his town to mine and just hold me as I broke down, trying to get this mess of a familiar puzzle together again. And he even started raking the water out of the house as the insurance company sent people out to start the process of draining and all that stuff. On top of that, another family friend opened her home to me, which I became a "roommate" for the next month at.
For them, I am forever grateful. I was still shattered, but they made it a lot easier for me to get myself back together compared to last time.
More was unable to be saved that time around. Carpet was ripped up, kitchen cabinets, the sink, dishwasher, stove and oven were ripped out. Everything in every room was either boxed or strewn around in random spots. Base boards also gone.
So there I was, displaced from my house, still managing to work both jobs, while dealing with greater crap from the new insurance we had signed with, trying my best to fix the house again, and my faith took a greater hit.
I felt a disconnect from God. I stopped talking to Him. I stopped going to Him. I was numb. I felt that as much positivity I had been seeking and trying to put out, He had turned His back on me, like it never meant anything. I knew things like this was why people turn their back on Him.
I went back to that house the way it was--torn, cluttered. It was an anomaly on my life that I was not completely happy about, but I was content for the time. Making money and saving had been my main goal, and I was thinning myself between both jobs, but I saw the end goal as worth it.
I would sit in that house, on my bed, and simply look around what used to be my bedroom. I spent hours doing that, especially at night. My internet was on hiatus from the damage. I got rid of cable. All I had were movies to watch and my laptop to write. I did both very rarely.
That forced me to start talking to God again.
I told Him how angry I was. I told him how much He had hurt me. I cried, countless times. I screamed, hearing the walls echo back. I pounded my fist into covers. And then, I fought.
The mere reason I went back to that home in the first place was because I could not give the house the attention I needed to (organizing things back, getting rid of some, etc.) being away from it. Also, I do not like being a burden. I knew the family friend was okay with me staying, but I do not like relying on people if it can be helped. And it could. I had the power to help myself.
Come March, I booked a flight to go out West. I could visit my sister, niece, dad and a close friend. And not only that, I needed the vacation. I was working and working, and putting up with the house. I refused to allow myself to go into as dark as a place as I had been the year before.
I did not know what I was doing. I did not even know if I should have booked the flight. But once I pushed that button for confirmation, there was no going back. So I just did it.
I was able to get over a week off from both jobs and simply live again. Escape. I thought nothing about the house the entire trip. I felt like me again.
I had taken back my life.
The return from the trip was not as hard as I thought it would be. The very same night/morning I arrived back, I went into work later that morning for a double. I recall standing there, and I wanted to cry all of a sudden. I was talking about my mom and how things for her were not looking up where she was at to a co-worker, and I sort of mentioned about putting in my two weeks notice, never having thought of it before then. I am certain talking about my mom was part of what had triggered the tears, but deep down, I think I knew that I had to do more to truly take back my life, and not just for a week.
I was putting my first foot forward to end a life phase of mine, and my mom's.
I was signing two weeks papers that very same day. And there was no turning back from that.
I did it with my other job as well.
I did not know what the hell I was doing. But then I started selling stuff out of the house. And things I never even thought would sale, people were just hitting me up, and things were slowly disappearing. I was making runs on breaks, before work, after work--any time I could get minutes in--to deliver or meet up, or be at home for them to come get the bigger things.
Even then, I did not know what the hell I was doing.
Before I knew it, I had ample amount to make my first trip to Texas with boxes of things. It was decided that I was going to uproot myself and my mom and move there. At this point in time, I thought: screw the house. I had gotten the ceiling in the kitchen fixed once more, but everything else, there was no need.
I talked to God many more times. I kept saying: "God, I don't know what I am doing, but You got this." And every action I took, that I did not know what I was doing, or what the outcome would be, I trusted that He was aligning everything up.
It was no one but God when I tell you I quit my jobs in April, I had made it safely back from my first trip to Texas, sold all but three things in the house, had my mom out of the facility within two months, and was leaving Kentucky for good. The house was also in the process of being sold.
It was also no one but God when Texas as my new residence was replaced by Arizona. God knew that the resources I needed for my mom and myself were more fitting in Arizona than Texas.
When I drove us, first, to Texas to switch out some boxes from my first trip with my second one and rest, I still did not know what I was doing. I did not know if what I was doing or the chain I had started was right. I just let go of the wheel, in a sense. When I finally got us to Arizona, I still had no clue what I was doing. But I can tell you that I was tired and I was open to all possibilities.
2018 is almost gone now. I have mentioned before that I see new years as not really new years, but a continuation of our journeys and experiences. Many people like to go in with their best foot forward, already have given up on the present, wanting a clean slate. But why can you not begin that clean state now?
I tell this story because you can go into the new year with hopes and this and that to make better, etc. but you can, like me, literally, have a curve ball tossed at you the very beginning of the year. Will you give up right then and there? Or will you refuse to accept the shit thrown at you, and take control of what you can?
I could not control most of these situations I had to deal with (maybe could play the would-of, should-of, could-of), but, ultimately, God mapped the path out, and it was up to me how I was going to maneuver it. Same is for you.
You do not like your job right now, put in your two weeks now. Search for something that will make you happy. You want to travel. Book that plane ticket today. You want to get stronger in religion. Open up the "manual" today.
I am not going to say that the results you want will come out of it right away. I am not going to say the results you want will come out of it at all. But God's results will surely show up right on time.
I was broken by someone. I have not felt the hurt in quite some time. I met a lot of other amazing people. I was able to open up to them differently. I was able to identify my needs, not just wants.
The house failed me with multiple things. I did not want to be in it anymore, even before the disasters. I did not want to live in Kentucky, where I felt my options were limited for multiple reasons. God forced the disasters to wake me the hell up and get me out of there like He knew my heart desired, like He knew I needed for more possibilities elsewhere.
I lost my old car, but walked away with my life. That car would have never lasted with the multiple trips I have taken in my new one. Therefore, I would not have even been able to leave the very place I wanted to get to the place He needed me.
Today, I can still say I do not know what I am doing. I am better rested, I still get shit thrown at me, but I am open to all possibilities that God has proven can come.
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