Days I Haven't Died

Thank you, God, Abba, Father of Jesus Christ, that it has not yet snowed this December. I've been off of everything for quite some time now, and aside from feeling entirely foggy at times, I'm doing alright. I'm staying with some friends from the The Church Gang, not drinking, not smoking (besides cigarettes) and working a couple of jobs. I don't have any free-time, really, but I'm thankful for that, too, because what good have I ever accomplished with my free-time? Nothing. That's what. Besides going to Bible Study and Church. Church itself has been neglected in the past few weeks, but that's alright with me (well, sort of) because I was pissed off by the whole girl-trying-to-hold-my-hand and then me being almost scolded for it. I'm super thankful to be staying at what The Church Gang boys dubbed 'the 2-3-0' because my only other option is the homeless shelter down town and using the bus. As appealing as that sounds (not) I was happy where...

I'd forgotten to write about an epiphany I had several days before this and only possessed the note I left in my iPhone to remind me to blog about it. Not only what days were lived but how more days should be lived and what you should do during those days! Now, it sounded like manic resolve to plan ahead for a better future. I remembered feeling that it was the qualities of what you'd do in those days you had lived your life that were important rather than the actual doings themselves. I started my new job and of course, just like any other place I went, found myself hit with the, "You doing okay?" question midway through the day. I knew that at that point in the day, while I'd been running on little sleep and tended to have a miserable look on my face even in the happiest of circumstances, it had to have been common courtesy. While there may have been no ill will, I still scolded myself, thus deepening the constant cold front that was my demeanor, for being so...

3rd November 2017 I had no idea who would be calling from the community worried about me. My probation officer let me know he'd received multiple calls from the community concerning me. In other words, people had been worried and called about it. I didn't ask who'd called or what they might've said because I didn't want to know. It angered me to know anyone would think to go over my head and I thought that anger was better left directionless. The probation office meeting was a quick quarter hour followed by the quarter hour drive back home. I caught up on the newest episode of Lucifer with the roommate. Lucifer told the woman whose body his mother had inhabited that he'd missed his mother; it was touching. During the episode that he cast his mother out of earth, she cried to him for how much she would miss him and he backed away in silence. I thought about my own mother and father, but not for more than a moment. I imagined them or my brothers calling, ...

It felt like I'd floated off of the planet for a few days. I was listening to Demi Lovato's newest album for no reason in particular. Whatever emotional connotations I'd been assigning to things seemed to have disappeared. After learning to 'let go and let God' on all of the emotional (bullshit) things I'd been concerning myself with, I started to helplessly look at everything objectively. Seriously. The only reason the word helpless made it into that last sentence is because I viewed writing that lacked emotional turmoil as   being devoid of interest. I didn't like writing boring things. However, it could be for the best. My stomach had been hurting every day again just like it always had. Public bathrooms had originally became my sanctuary for that reason. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without getting a stomachache. That had also been a reason I'd hated eating so much in the past and even now, especially now; while my stomach burned...

Formerly named, "No, no, no, I hate poor people." Earlier Nope. Not convinced. Convinced everyone can be saved if they want to be? Yeah. Convinced that not heeding advise is foolish? Yeah. Convinced that the way desired by man leads to death? Yeah. Convinced I should go to rehab? Nope. Not convinced. Especially because it isn't rehab. It's a fucking homeless shelter. Also, convinced that to mock the poor is to insult their Maker? Yeah. I'm sinful. I'm wicked. I'm not going to go be around a bunch of homeless dudes in a shelter and have an ass-load of free time on my hands to do absolutely nothing with. Literally, as soon as I found out how much free time I would have, and that it wasn't actually a rehab I was dead set on not going. Fuck that. I might hate everyone around me, rejoice in the idea of an actual rehabilitation center but the fucking homeless?  Nope. Last night in Church the sermon was about praying to God out loud and being ...

It occurred to me that I may be, in fact, losing my mind. Life seemed all too fast to slow down, but there was no one around who could understand. Fearless. It was once a word I used to describe myself. Now, walking the same sidewalk on the same street I’d walked hundreds of times before, I felt fear. I felt fear because things were too nice. Besides myself, nothing seemed out of place. I kept looking up from my phone, as if someone were going to be running towards me with a knife, or driving at 60 miles per hour off road at 5 PM. I felt like I was going to die. I was afraid I was going to die, but not afraid because I trusted I’d rest in Jesus’ arms. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the one thing that I feared more than anything. Peaceful acceptance of the fact that I am in fact human, mortal, dying, not a God, and now dead, in the Son of God’s outstretched arms. I feared for my daughter. But at the same time, the calm was so promising that I knew everything would ...

"Call me," had been the signal to shut my phone off. Sorry, Kristen. ~Carnivorous Cats~ My left forearm looked as if it'd been used as a shield to fight off a relentless onslaught of cats whose claws had never before seen clippers. There I was, that fateful night, out far past my bedtime, wandering in the woods. The moonlight played with the wind and trees to create monsters and mythical beasts in the corners of my eyes, but little did I know the real danger lurking all around me. I could hear the hoot of owls, the flutter of wings. Nothing out of the ordinary, I'd been here many times. If I'd listen carefully enough, I could hear the soft skittering of mice as they cautiously crawled beneath fallen leaves and logs to avoid becoming late-night snacks. The mice. It must've been the mice that had attracted them, the smell of their weak, tiny flesh that had led the bloodthirsty kittens to those woods. Tripping over a broken branch, I landed hard on ...