Brilliance - Part I

She finally did it. She finally took a stand. She took back her life. I never thought it would happen. It was a stroke of brilliance to think that one has control of their own life. Maybe she was too far on the edge to care anymore about anyone but herself, maybe she was all out of tears. I think it was a dream. I think she fell asleep one night and woke up the next morning and everything was changed. That is the way it's suppose to happen, right? It doesn't take days or months or even years to realize when something has gone terribly wrong. It takes a moment, a night where you wake up the next morning and suddenly all is clear. I just thought you all should know her story because within her story is the secret of life and I know why it's a secret...

Quest

I came to a place I have not been in a very long time for my vision quest, home. Time and life consumed me and I just did not go back for a long time. Once I arrived home I knew the spot I wanted immediately. It was all I was thinking about for the hour drive home. Home is surrounded by woods and when I was little my sister and I would play in this one particular area of the woods. I sat down right in the middle of one of the “rooms”. The woods had formed a perfect pathway through our play area and even seemed to separate “rooms” for us. We never had to cut anything limbs or make any adjustments; it was all naturally placed for our area. It was dense, but not so dense that you could become lost forever. The trees protected me from the wind and the sun with the exception of small rays that pushed through the ceiling of leaves and showed beautifully on the ground in random spots that looked like it was not at all random. Whenever a breeze came along I always heard it before I felt it. I heard rustling leaves in the distance, I saw dirt come up from the pathway outside my area like a mini tornado. As the breeze reached me, I was only given what I needed to stay comfortable. I was protected. I heard and saw birds soar away at a strong breeze and venture back again. Each bird was trying to find its home among my home. I heard the rustling of critters, but rarely saw any of them. Among all that was going on around me, I saw me, my sister and some friends playing when we were young. I never remember fighting with my sister here; this must have been the only place we did not fight. We lived as a village here. Each person responsible for a certain task and each task designated to the rooms nature had allowed us. One was the cook, one made weapons, one was in charge of collecting items of use and checking out surrounding land…etc. No one complained that I recall. We worked individually, but as one. We used only natural ingredients in our food, which no one actually ate for real. Mostly because it was comprised of leaves, sticks and whatever other plant material we could find. There was a nearby stream in which we got water from. The dogs were always running in and out of our village, but they never were a bother. Just part of everyday life; speaking of dogs, one of my mom’s dogs decided she needs to check on me. She comes running into my village, I pet her and she is gone again. That seems to have stayed the same. The air seems much cooler in here than it is outside. I’m sure it’s because limited sun is allowed to enter and limited breeze. The village was one of the times in my life when limited conflict existed. If an “outsider” decided to come in, which was always welcome, and create conflict the entire village had him promptly removed. Not here. This was a place of peace and harmony. This is a place of peace and harmony. I have never experienced what I felt in this village since the last time we were here. I have a sudden feeling of sadness. I sigh and take a good look around. My village has changed. Someone “cleaned” it up. The pathway is still here, but only some of the rooms still exist. I am sitting in a side room. I can’t remember exactly what this room was used for; I think I am on the side of weapons and protection. My village is much less dense now and the healthy coating of leaves and brush that padded each rooms floor is now gone. It looks barren. The only thing that is very familiar to me is the pathway right down the middle. There was only one real entrance and that was in the front, where I came in. If you knew how, you could enter through the back. I look to my right; the secret back entrance is no longer secret. I realize that I miss my village, I miss my sister, I miss my friends and I miss what we all had when we were the village. I am not sure what I should be taking away from this right now. Maybe I should visit home more, maybe I should call my sister. Perhaps I should work to make a village in my own life now; enough of all the conflict, emptiness and stress of being an “individual”. There was a time when I was an individual, but it meant something for me and everyone else. I was only a child then, but I knew the answer and somewhere along the way I lost it. I must find my village again.

I'm Trying to Clean the Mess

I turned away from the crying woman sitting at my desk. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Sometimes I don’t know how to feel about the people that come and go from my office. I never know when to feel bad anymore. Every situation is different so I say that I am sorry to the woman. She tells me not to pity her: “What you pity, stands apart from you. What is close is not pitiful, only what you do not understand, what you hope to cherish from a safe distance.” I just stare, not knowing what to say. She says: “If you’re going to sign onto HAMP, you have to follow the rules. These homeowners followed the rules, and now it’s time for Chase to.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I really hate my job.

I’m sitting alone on my couch watching a movie and eating popcorn. It’s the one evening I have off this week and I’m alone. I start thinking about my relationship and that he will not come to spend time with me, he insists that I come to him. What are significant other suppose to do, “Awaken or replace you?” “You need someone you can actually be yourself with.” This is not what I have at all.

I was tired of feeling stuck, in more than one way. I didn’t know what to do about it. I can’t focus on my homework. “My leg is always twitching, jumping, joggling. It wants to go places. It has had enough of waiting.” I just want to stop and start over, but every time I start to, something stops me. “As odd as it sounds, sometimes we're comfortable being miserable.”

She was smart and beautiful but embarrassed of herself. No one could figure out why, “but it was her scars that seemed to pain her the most.” Growing up she had skin problems that left scars on her legs. These scars were very visible to her, but only slightly recognizable to others. “I believe that we all suffer from scars of one sort or the other. The worst is the ones you cannot see and may never receive treatment when needed.”

I love writing, all kinds of writing. Somehow I cannot speak as clearly as I can write. Just recently I was given the power to truly express without fear. Sometimes when I am writing, my “thoughts are the limbs of a composition and must be surgically excised from their contexts.” When I am given the opportunity to write about me, I express “anything where the purpose is to express thoughts, feelings and emotions”.

I was focused, calm and rational. I knew how to do my job and I did it well, “but then I begin to wonder if I still resemble myself.” I used to care about people and give them the benefit of the doubt. Not anymore. I really don’t care anymore. “I used to care, but things have changed. I've been walking forty miles of bad road.”

I am quiet, that’s the first thing everyone they all said. I just let everyone think that, it’s easier. “Modest Bronwyn never said a word on her own behalf, but kept what she had; when pushed, gentle Bronwyn never budged.” I often ask “why we underestimate risk in the face of uncertainty.” I am not too concerned; it has always worked in my benefit.

I knew this was wrong, but I just didn’t care anymore. I know I should stop; not caring does not make this right. “These thoughts trembled in my hand, and yet I did not pull away.” I know why all this is happening, “Familiarity has bred indifference.” Resentment has its place as well.

I was crying, feeling horrible and it was not even my fault, it never is but he never fails to make it my fault. Then I broke, I stopped. “All the people I caught myself being instead of me, my unnameables, my monsters, my hybrids, I exhorted them to silence.” “Strength is not a mere happy gift,” it is something we all have.

Caitlyn snuck out of her house and ran all the way to her friend’s house, which was not really that far away. But she was only 8 and it was night. Everyone asked her what she was doing, “in fact, she was hiding.” “And like it always does, the bad just got worse.”

GLOG

Here is a link to my GLOG...

http://widmanab01.glogster.com/

Strong

She was always strong, independent. So, I always wondered why she married someone like him. He was mean and miserable to everyone. Why she loved him, I didn’t understand. He never hurt anyone, physically. She always kept her kids safe, away from him. When I was older, I moved out to go to school. I was strong, independent. I met someone. The guy I met was like him, but I couldn’t see this. I thought I loved him, but he hurt me…not physically. I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did. I don’t know why I suddenly needed support for everyone in my life. When did I suddenly become so desperate and needy? What happened to me? Finally, I got mad and said no more. It didn’t really hurt anymore because I stopped caring. I felt free and strong and independent. I understood why she stayed with him. Now, I don’t understand why she won’t leave him. Freedom feels good. It always hurts a little, but worth it. I still can’t get her to understand. My life goes on. I am single for a long time. It’s better to be along than scared and hurt. I meet someone else. This new guy is just like him, again. I don’t see it. I am with him for longer than I have ever been with anyone. They always start out as nice, gentlemen. Then they change, but you don’t notice it really. You wake up one morning and notice it. Damn it. Now I see why she stays with him. It’s the same reason I stay with mine. It’s nothing that I can explain. You have to experience it. I won’t leave him until my heart and mind have already let go. It’s easier that way. You don’t hurt so badly and you’re ready for the freedom because you are already alone, even when you’re with him. I just wish he would disappear or even better, leave me. He won’t, they never do. I call her and we talk about them. She tells me I should leave him and not end up like her. I am silent. She knows what she is into. Why does she stay? Why am I staying? I say things get better with him and she does not really understand my situation. She does. She used to play along with me when I said things were getting better. They really were. Now, she does not play along anymore. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We talk about school and home. I don’t want to admit this to anyone, but I want it to be over with him. It’s been over for me. So, I don’t know what I am waiting for. I busy myself with school and work. No one can voice a complaint when I do that. That’s where I am now, busying myself with school. Hoping he ends it. I understand my mom now. I know my mom understands me. I know she is right.

Fly

Fly
I will fly, high above clouds. I will land hard on the ground.
I will swim. I will sink.
I will love someone or something more than I love myself because I don’t love myself.
I will hate someone or something with a passion that burns deep inside. I will hurt.
I will learn how important I am through mistakes and pain. I will love myself more than I love anything else because I know I am the most important thing.
I will learn that I cannot be happy with anything unless I am happy with myself.
I will cry for my pain, mistakes and for others. I will forgive others and more importantly, myself.
I will love again; someone or something other than myself because I will be ready.
I will still feel pain. I will still feel love. I will understand what true love is.
I will not hate because there is no room in my soul for hate. I will smile because there is always room for a smile.
I will learn lessons, good or bad, each day. I will teach life everyday that I am able.
I will lose a piece of my heard and my soul. I will understand what true pain is.
I will feel content with my heart and my mind.
I will understand what the true meaning of life is and it will never be too late to understand.
I will try to pass along the meaning of life, which no one will understand until they are ready to fly.
I will grow weary; my thoughts will be in the past because, for once in my life, I will know my future.
I will fly, high above clouds.

I am

Am

I am happy. I have everything I want and need it may not be much

And it may not be what you think it should be.

I know what makes me happy.

What are you? Are you happy? Do you know?

You say I am missing something. Something is not right. You are the

Only one who thinks that. I am not what you think I should be.

I am…happy.

You are not happy, you are miserable. I can see it and you can see it, but you cannot accept you.

Instead of making yourself happy, you judge and blame others. Is it working? Are you happy?

Maybe you should judge and blame yourself. You are trying to trick yourself into thinking you are right and others are wrong.

You think no one can really be that happy. I must be fake; I can’t be happy. Why can’t we be happy? Because you are not happy? I guess misery loves company.

Judge, blame, judge blame.

You make others feel so badly…why? Does it make you feel good? Does it make you happy even for a moment?

Why you not see that everyone around you can’t be wrong?

Stop trying to hide in your anger. Stop trying to blame your past. Your anger is useless you are not mad at me. You are mad at you. That is not my fault. Stop.

I am hurt and sad. Are you happy now? I am not happy. I want to cry. I know you are wrong! But I want to cry.

You are wrong. You need to look at you not us. You don’t care that we cry. You don’t understand why you have no friends. We are all crying, but we all feel like it is our fault. Because of you.

Are you happy? I am strong. I am hurt. I wish I never met you. You made me cry and never said you’re sorry. I am done crying. I don’t care.

I don’t wish I never met you. I wish you were different. I see who you are in moments of happiness. That is why I am here, still.

I am happy?