Songs that speak for me

I need Love - Sixpence None the Richer

i left my conscience like a crying child
locked the door behind me put the pain on file
broken like a window i see my blindness now

i need love
not some sentimental prison
i need god
not the political church
i need fire
to melt this frozen sea inside me
i need love

driving into town tired and depressed
like a flare the streetlight bursts an s.o.s.
peace comes to my rescue and i don't know what it means
i need love

I really like this song. Here's another one I really like from Sixpence:

Too Far Gone

I built these walls with blinders on my eyes
brick by brick and now I realize
that I'm shut out I'm shut in
and every time I try to reach out I reach in
I break my fingers on the bricks
why do I do this to myself
there is really no one else to blame

Chorus
so could you reach down and pull me out
or am I just too far gone to be saved?
or am I just too far gone to be saved?

I take my falls, hands pulled behind my back
you made the knot and didn't leave much slack
now I'm tied up I'm tied down
now every time I try to fly up I fly down
into the sea and hold my breath
I am a mirrored rumble fish
My fists are clenching for the kill

Chorus
so could you reach down and break my will
or am I just too far gone to be saved?
or am I just too far gone to be saved?

[ Instrumental-Bridge ]

I'm shut out I'm shut in
and every time is try to reach out reach in
I break my fingers on the bricks
now every time I try to fly up I fly down
into the sea and hold my breath
I am a mirrored rumble fish
My fists are clenching for the kill

Chorus
so could you reach out and pull me out
or am I just too far gone
you'll never be too far gone,
you'll never be too far gone to be saved


I feel like these songs speak for themselves what I am feeling, so I am just going to leave this post like this.

Thinkings, Ramblings, but most of all, Love

I find it so interesting that in the bad times, God is not good, but in the good times, He is good. Really, He has not changed. He is good in the good times and He is just as good in the bad times. It's my perspective that has changed, or my view that has been distorted by that which is assailing me.

I understand that things are not as they should be right now. I am not going to deny this fact. I know that I am believing lies about myself and about God. I am sorry to say that I don't know how to go about uprooting the lies and planting the truth. Truth is, I'm tired. I don't think I have the strength. But, just as you pull up weeds one at at time, I can try to manage one lie at at time. I think that is where my focus has gotten lost. I think that I have to pull them up all at once. But, this is unrealistic. Only Superman can do that, and I am definitely not Superman, nor any other super hero or heroine. Somewhere, this truth has been lost in translation.

I also understand that I am very confused right now. I have been switching back and forth, trying to make sense of things, but to be honest, nothing makes sense. And I mean, absolutely nothing. What I'm talking about is how I feel like I keep going back and forth with God. At one point, I'm okay with Him, another I hate him, another I don't know what I think about Him, and another...well, you get the picture. I think it goes with my dissociation. Angry Mindy hates God and is very angry at Him, little Mindy is afraid of Him and doesn't trust Him, Adult Mindy thinks that she has to have everything together before she can go to Him, and Numb Mindy is just numb. She just wants someone to hold her and let her fall apart. She's indifferent to the whole thing. It's like she's lost out there somewhere and no one can reach her.

So, with all that said, I don't know where I stand with God. I think there is a part that is okay with Him. There is a part that shows herself sometimes who knows what she thinks about God. She knows that He is good and trustworthy and that He loves her: most of all that He loves her. I want this to be me, but I'm not sure it is. I mean, I think it is, but I don't know how to be her.

I've been praying that God would soften my heart toward Him. I wonder how much He has, and how much I've been switching in and out of dissociations. If I can only get all of them on the same level it would be okay. But I don't know how to do that. I guess it's like talking to yourself.

So, I need to talk to myselves. I say "myselves", because they are all a part of me, but different. I also need to start weeding one lie at a time and planting one truth at a time.

I'm going to be honest. I think I have a hard time doing these things, positive things, when things are bad. I mean, I don't understand how it is okay to be happy when things are bad. I don't understand how it is okay to go to God when things are bad. I don't understand how it is okay to accept His love and goodness and all that jazz when things aren't okay. When I say to Him, "I hate you", He says, "I love you". I don't understand. I've grown up in conditional love. If my mom was mad at me, we didn't talk until I apologized and until we were okay. If something was amiss, it had to be made right before we could talk and be okay. So, to hear that God loves me even in the midst of my anger toward Him is contrary to what I believed. I don't know how to accept it. Is it okay to accept it? Even when I don't know that I believe it?

I guess I have the belief that it's not okay to not be okay. It's not okay to not have it all together.

If I can go back to my opening paragraph, I think that I need to let my walls down. I mean, I know I need to let them down...but, is it okay? Is it safe? I feel like when bad things happen, or when life goes amiss, I have to put my walls back up and be defensive. I sink into myself because that is safest. I'm safe when I'm inside myself. I don't have to fear the wrath of others.

I remember when I was younger, there was this one time when, during the summer, I wasn't feeling well. I was having trouble with diarrhea or something like that. It was during a huge festival we have in my town every year. I remember this because my church had a float in the parade on that Sunday and we went to the park with the church after it was over. I remember that my mom was mad at me because I kept having accidents. It really wasn't my fault, but she made it feel like it was. It couldn't be helped. I just wasn't feeling well. I'm not sure if this is exactly as was, but it's how I remember it, and I'm learning to validate the things I remember. So, I'm going to validate this and say that it was how it was. I felt so...low. I felt like a failure...I was how old and I couldn't even make it to the bathroom? My mom would have been happy with me if only I would have been able to not make a mess in my pants.

I don't know where that came from or if it has anything to do with this, but I think it probably does, otherwise it wouldn't have come up. I think it's how I feel with God. If only I could do this, He would be happy with me. If only I could not do that, we would be okay. But, I forget that He is not like my mom or my dad. He is not human. His love is unconditional. I think this is something He might be trying to get through to me. It's been a recurring theme the past twenty-four hours. But, He's also patient. Which means He is going to keep trying to get this through to me until I accept it. With this, I go back to, 'is it okay to accept it when things aren't okay?' Well, His love is unconditional, isn't it?

The definition of 'unconditional' is: not limited by conditions; true for all values of the variable; without conditions or limitations. I like this definition, especially the math reference. His love is true for all states of me. No matter what state I am in, He loves me. His love has no conditions or limitations. It is not limited by my anger, failure, or anything else. He loves me no matter what.

I'm listening to a song right now by the band, Gungor. It's called, Fly. There is a line that says,

You can come
While your heart feels numb
You could just lie down
And rest

I feel almost like the Prodigal son. He took off with his inheritance (or his father's money), and squandered it all. He wandered home dirty, smelly, stained by sin, and hungry, and thinking that His father would only take pity on him to allow him to be a worker in his fields. But, to his surprise, his father was waiting outside for him. He had been looking for him. When he saw him, he ran to him. He ran to him. He pulled him into his already open arms and embraced him. He cleaned him up and threw a party. Why? Because he loved his son with an unconditional love.

This is the love God has for me. And I can't take it in. Is it okay to accept it? I feel like it's not, because that means my walls have to come down. But, what if I accept it, but leave them up for just a little while longer? Is that okay? Just 'till I know it's safe? Will He want me even though I still have walls up?

Raggedy Me

This morning in church, I had a vision. I saw myself as a rag doll lying in a puddle, much like this picture. I was dirty, damaged, and smelly. I was trash.

If you've ever known a little girl who was attached to a doll, you would know that if anything happened to that doll, the little girl would be devastated. She would cry and look for it everywhere until she found it. Even if she never found it, nothing would or could ever replace it.

And if she does find it, she rejoices. To her, it doesn't matter if the doll is dirty, wet, damaged, or smelly. She picks it up and draws it near, holding it tight and probably does a dance or jumps up and down. She has found her precious treasure.

In my vision a hand reached down and picked me up.

This person... He put me to His chest and held me tight. He forgot that I was dirty, wet, stained, and smelly. He ignored the fact that, to anyone else, I was trash. To Him, I was a precious treasure.

I had been lost, but was found. I was loved and cherished, despite my state.

I wish I could act this out for you, or catch it on video, because it would be beautiful. But I can only leave you and myself with these limited and incapable words that try to describe what I saw.

I can't even begin to describe what I felt. Tears fell, but if my heart weren't so hard, I think I would have sobbed, because this is clearly a picture of His love. I'm still taking it in. I want to get a rag doll to remind me of this vision.

He loves raggedy me.

I am not quite sure how to take that in yet.

He loves raggedy me.

Loves....me. Me.

He...loves....me.

I don't know how or why.

But He does.

I don't know how to accept it.

But He loves me still.

Even when I reject Him.

Open Wounds

In the dark with the music on
Wishing I was somewhere else
Taking all your anger out on me, somebody help
I would rather rot alone
Then spend a minute with you
I'm gone, I'm gone

And you can't stop me from falling apart
'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault

[Chorus]
How could you, how could you, how could you hate me?
When all I ever wanted to be was you?
How could you, how could you, how could you love me?
When all you ever gave me were open wounds?

Downstairs the enemy sleeps
Leaving the TV on
Watching all the dreams we had turn into static
Doesn't matter what I do
Nothing's gonna change
I'm never good enough

And you can't stop me from falling apart
'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault

[Chorus]

Tell me why you broke me down and betrayed my trust in you
I'm not giving up, giving in when will this war end?
When will it end??

You can't stop me from falling apart [3X]
'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault.


I really relate to this song. I like the part that says, "How could you love me when all you ever gave me were open wounds?"

I've heard a few times from my mom that my dad loved me. I hate when she says that. Since meeting my dad, I've heard him say that he loves me, as well. I hate it when he says that. It pisses me off because I just don't understand how he can say that when what he did was so terrible.

I talked to him about that, by the way. I told him that he didn't have to acknowledge anything, but that I wasn't going to pretend everything was fine. When he pretended I was talking about the domestic violence, I told him it was what happened between him and I. When I said that, he said, "I don't know what happened...I don't think anything really happened." If he was being accused of something that never happened, don't you think he'd have said, "Nothing happened."? If nothing happened, would he have given me the response he did?

I don't think so.

I just came upon this song, but I love it already. I have many open wounds right now that are so raw. I'm just trying to figure everything out, and no one is helping me. I'm not getting straight answers from either parent. It's so hard right now. I feel so alone. And my open wounds hurt.

The things I'm trying to figure out are things like why I react to certain things. Like red soap...who the heck first of all makes red soap, and who else would be bothered by it? I hate red soap. I can't stand it when I see it on my hands. Secondly, what about the things that I see in my mind sometimes? Are they real? Are they things of a time long past? Do I sit and deal with them since to me they are real? Even if they really aren't? Why do I hate shadows and certain words?

My mind is spinning and my thoughts are racing. These open wounds hurt...they hurt so deep that words cannot express their pain and pictures cannot capture it.

Another line I love in this song is, "And you can't stop me from falling apart, 'Cause my self-destruction is all your fault". There is nothing that my dad can do to make anything better. All the things he did that have caused me pain are his fault. I think I have a choice in my self-destruction, but I think he plays a major part in it. He for sure doesn't help me at all.

The only thing he really did give me that has stuck with me is open wounds. And now I have to sit here and let them heal.

As I sit here writing, I'm thinking about a lot of things. Referring back to that phone conversation I had with my dad, I'm thinking about writing a letter. I wasn't able to be as direct in my language on the phone, because it was hard and I was scared, but if I write a letter, I can be. So, what if I write him a letter? What if, in my letter, I come straight out and say it? Maybe it will help me start to let these open wounds heal.

to the Potter, the clay said...

"Why did you make me this way?"

Have you ever asked God this? I know I have, and I currently am. I'm dissatisfied with how He made me. He made me a sexual being, and I hate it. I am not the slimmest or trimmest girl and I hate it. I hate my curves and big hips. I think that my smile is ugly, my face is too fat, and I'm just plain ugly. I'm hideous.

This is what I think.

Have you ever taken a ceramics class? More specifically, have you ever thrown clay on a potter's wheel? I'm currently taking a class and I love it, but it has definitely been causing me to think about some things. This is one of them.

I was reading in Scripture and came upon Isaiah 45:9-10 "What sorrow awaits those who argue with their Creator. Does a clay pot argue with its maker? Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying, 'Stop, you're doing it wrong!' Does the pot exclaim, 'How clumsy can you be?' How terrible it would be if a newborn baby said to its father, 'Why was I born?' or if it said to its mother, 'Why did you make me this way?'"

I thought of this in the context of me being the potter, rather than the clay. When I am forming something on the wheel, if I think it's beautiful, I'm going to let it dry and eventually fire it in the kiln. It doesn't matter to me whether or not others think it's beautiful. I created it and I think it's beautiful. If I didn't think it was beautiful, I would destroy it and start over.

When God was done making me, He looked at me and said that I was "good". Why can't I see that? If I wouldn't have been beautiful, He would have destroyed me and made something else. But He loved what He had created and in that moment decided to put me in the kiln. He saw what He had created and said it was beautiful.

So, why can't I accept that I am beautiful? I know I'm hurting Him by rejecting myself, but I just don't see the beauty. I see all of the imperfections. What if the clay said, "I don't understand why You made me this way, or what purpose I'll serve looking like this, but I trust you."?

Unfortunately, in our world, we get marred by words and events that happen to us. I've definitely been marred by both. So what happens? What is the object made to do when it has been marred by the things of this world? Is there any way to fix the cracks, dents, and chips? How does the potter fix it?

Or does He let those cracks, dents, and chips add to the beauty and uniqueness of the object made?

Stagnant

How many times have I uttered the words, "I come from an abusive background", "My dad sexually abused me when I was 3", or "My dad was sexually abusive"? Probably too many to count. But, I've said them.

But it's never been as real as it is now.

And I still keep fighting it. When will I give in and deal with it? It feels like a lose/lose situation. I just can't win. I think the stupid thing about all this is that I can't even remember. It's so stupid. But, it's not. Right? I just don't want to give into this. I'm fighting, but the giving in is inevitable. It'll happen sooner or later.

How can it be that it's never seemed real before? Am I just being dramatic? Would anyone in their right mind make stuff up? Am I acting on the things I've been told? Is this stuff real? How do I even begin to deal with it all?

Am I ready? Am I to the point where I am ready to deal with all of this? Am I strong enough? Can I do it? I'm scared. I don't even know where to begin. And I just don't want to. I don't want to face the demons. They're the things I've hidden for so long.

I feel trapped, I think. I'm fighting the wrong thing. Someone told me that facing it lasts only a short while, but not facing it lasts forever. This couldn't be any more truer. I want to fight...I want to argue...come back with a 'but'. But I can't.

Then, there's forgiveness. I know I need to forgive my dad again, but I haven't been able to bring myself to it. Doing that means that something actually happened, and I don't want to admit that. But, I think I'm coming to understand that forgiveness is more for me rather than him. I've been listening to the song, '7x70' by Chris August, and it's been making me think. Basically, the song's point is that forgiveness brings healing to us. I've been thinking of how good healing might feel. I remember countless times when I had to be off my ankle because I sprained it. When it was finally healed, it felt so good to walk or run on it again. Once, I had tendinitis in my left knee. I couldn't walk very well or run at all. When my knee was healed, it felt so good to run again. But, the healing came slowly. I've also thought of all the times I've had a cut or a scrape that needed to heal and how during the healing process it was so uncomfortable. It was itchy and scabby. But, when the wound was healed, it felt so much better. Is this going to be the same?

I've been pretty angry at God lately. I hate him for a few reasons. I'm angry at him because I'm being forced to face the things I've been running from. I'm angry because I have to let it hurt and can't do anything about it. I'm angry because I just don't want to. I'm angry at him for a few other reasons, but I won't put them here.

I realize that I am battling a lot of lies. They are lies about myself and about God. I've realized that I've lived in self-hate my entire life and these lies are part of that. I don't even know where or how to begin uprooting those lies and planting truth.

I titled this 'Stagnant' because that is how I feel right now. I'm not moving. And I haven't wanted to. There is so much more I want to write here, but it's already 4:37a.m. and I need to get some sleep. Ah, sleep. That's another thing I hate. I'll write about that later.