...But That's Not The Way It Works...

What is normal anymore? I just want things to go back to "normal". To when my biggest concerns were passing a test I didn't study for. When I didn't have to worry about bleeding, fainting, or being on multiple drugs. When I didn't have to fake a smile so as not to worry others. When I didn't know the emotional scars of abuse. Or the physical scars of self harm. When I could have my fears and concerns put to rest by a good talk. When, if I started to cried, I wouldn't fall completely apart. But, what is normal? Was that? Is this now what I need to accept as normal?

"And I just pray/My problems go away if they're ignored" (When I Go Down by Relient K)
Isn't that what I've been doing? Bottling everything up and ignoring it, hoping that it will just go away. I've been stuffing everything into a bottle and shoving it to the farthest reaches of my mind, not realizing that at some point, the bottle will become fuller than its capacity and break. Then, not only will I have to deal with everything I've been trying not to deal with, I'll have to pick up the broken pieces as well. I guess that's why the next line in the song is, "But that's not the way it works/No that's not the way it works"

Sigh. I'm still FINE though. Just so you know.

It's The Inside That Counts

Have you ever been told you look nice on the inside, but not because of your personality? I have, by Dr Jake, today during yet another ultrasound on my ovaries. So, if I look so nice on the inside, why all the pain and bleeding? And I'm not talking figuratively. I'm glad that I'm "normal and healthy", but I can't stand the unexplained. If there were something concrete, like a tumor or a cyst or whatever, to blame all this on, I might be able breathe a little easier. I'm not saying I would want to go through the horrors of cancer or anything, but give me something to work with! If all this boils down to is "depression", I might punch someone. I don't understand how something that attacks the spirit can have such an immense effect on the body.

Anyways, thats getting me nowhere but frustrated.

So, Youth tonight. Where do I begin? The first few words out of Nicole's mouth were a cut down. Great way to start the night after I'd missed you and wanted to talk. Then we sang some songs. That was really nice, I needed time to just praise God and listen to the voices of others. We listened to Relient K "Which to bury, us or the hatchet?" and "Let it all out". We were supposed to write down all the connections to relationships we noticed in the songs. I was okay until the memories that are attached to those songs came flooding back. Ironic, since a line in the first song is about keeping the bad (memories) and forgetting the good. Its also kind of ironic since after talking about what we all learned, most people connected the songs to a "God-ship", or a dating relationship. I can see their side of it, but I've always connected them to a different relationship. Can you guess which one? Good ol' daddy dearest. "
"And know that I don't hate you/And know that I don't want to fight you/And know I'll always love you/But right now I just don't (like you)"
"So what does it mean to say that? Or to hear that?" Rob asked. Try how does it feel to live that and not be able to say it? As much as my dad has hurt me, I don't hate him; as much as he provokes a fight, I don't want to win or reciprocate; I will always love him, he's my dad; but sometimes, I just have trouble finding the love.
Ian: stop being so agrivating. Don't read a book pretending you're not interested in what everyone else is doing, make a random half-started comment and then tell me to shut up. And if you didn't hear what we had to say, do say "explain" and expect us to fill you in everytime. Pay attention or don't say anything at all.

I'm over tired, angry, and basically just FINE. Go figure. And remember, "It's what's on the inside that counts!"

Pregnancy Tests For Everybody!

Well I had an exciting evening. I came home from work feeling like crap. I was woozie and light headed. So I layed on the couch. Obviously. I got up to go to the bathroom and found out I'd started my period, again. It "stopped" yesterday morning. I've been bleeding continuously for nearly two weeks now. Its not the greatest feeling let me tell you. So, I decided instead of feeling like crap all night and all day at work tomorrow until I could sit in the walk-in clinic, I would go to the hospital and get things straightened out. I went there around 8, waited for about 20 min or so and then was shown to a room. I gave a urine sample, and layed down to wait for a doctor to come in. So I read. The nurse brought me some Naprosin for the cramps. It helped mostly, and thankfully. I continued to read until about 10:15 when the Dr came in. He's a really good doctor, just hard to understand with his East Indian accent. I tried explaining everything and he did the same; it took us both a few tries to understand each other. He told me I should stop using the patch and switch to "the pill". He also upped my dosage of progesterin to 20mg. Yay, more hormones to screw around with. It was kinda weird because one of the first things he said to me was "Your pregnancy tests came back negative. Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" I was like, what? I came in here bleeding and you think I'm pregnant?! Crazy. So I was told to go home and take the drugs he gave me and to fill the perscription tomorrow. Not only do I get more hormones, I get to spend more money. Money on pills that might not even fixt the problem, or might not even be the right thing for whatever it is I have. I'm just waiting for Wednesday so I can have yet another ultrasound to check my womanly bits. Maybe this time they'll figure out what to do with me.

But we can all rest assured that I am not pregnant.

"Too Joanna you are"

That is a phrase I'm really starting to get sick of. I didn't know it was wrong to be too much of myself. In order to please people and not be "Joanna about it", I would have to have no fears, show no tears, have no doubts, show no pain, become defenseless, be funnier, happier, stronger, smarter, crazier, no longer faint, have a perfect bill of health, and basically be a completely different person. I've tried that before. It wasn't fun and I don't want to go back there. I'm trying to become a real person again, not just a shell of covered up emotion. People laugh when I tell them I don't cry around anyone. Consider yourself extremely trustworthy if I've ever cried around you. It probably doesn't happen that often. Don't feel bad if I haven't when you're around either, I doubt it was anything personal. I'm not completely sure why I don't like crying, no matter if I'm alone or not, I just don't like doing it. Sure, I cry during movies, but usually only if I watch them alone. (Except for Million Dollar Baby at the church, that was an awkward night). Its easy to cry from a movie, you're not as close to the situation and you can shed a few tears, wipe them away and finish watching. Crying makes me feel sick and weak. Probably because I hold them in for so long. I don't see the point to crying, it doesn't solve anything, it just gets rid of the clogged mucous in my nose. Isn't that a lovely thought? Anyways, crying wasn't what prompted this blog, it was the "Joanna" comment(s). I don't care if we're just joking around, but if something has actually hurt or bothered me, don't say that. And when I try to defend myself, don't laugh it off as me being even more Joanna about the situation. What does that even mean anyways? I didn't know a name could become a verb. If someone could explain what "being Joanna" is, I'd appreciate being filled in. Or maybe its just a conspiracy that my friends have all thought up to confuse me. Is that what friends are for? I thought not, but then again, the world does change rapidly, maybe I just can't keep up. I'm tired of being the target and the butt of jokes. So don't be surprised if I don't find it funny anymore.

By the way, hunting this weekend was boring. We came home, had lunch and then I slept until supper. Nicole was mad that I didn't go out with her, but I didn't see the point of going when I'd just sleep there. I'd rather sleep in a warm bed than a cold, cramped tree stand. And there wasn't anything worth shooting. Just a lot of does and fawns. There was a doe that didn't like other deer in her space and gave a few good kicks. We also watched "The Break Up" with Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston in it. It was a dumb movie. I thought it was supposed to be a comedy, but found only one minor funny part. And the way it ended was stupid.

Well, I'm gonna go write a poem I think. Church was good today, I really enjoyed the sermon. First time in a long while that I've listened to the whole thing.

Its so lovely to be reminded of the past I'm trying to forget.

Again I Go Unnoticed

Is there like a big mute button on my forehead or what? I talk, but it seems like no one hears the important stuff, the stuff that I leave unspoken, the stuff I really need to say. Its getting so frustrating and overwhelming. I should just become a nun and take a vow of silence. Its getting harder to be funny all the time, its draining what little strength I have. Could I just sleep through the night once, without fatal nightmares? Or is that too an impossible goal? My mind is becoming so full of doubts and lies from Satan, and its getting easier and easier to believe them. I love the fact that the two new meds I'm on have severe depression as a side-effect. Good thing I don't have enough of that already eh? One small victory is that I didn't pass out after my vaccinations yesterday. It could have been due to the fact I was already on the floor to begin with, but I like to think that I'm growing out of my "faint whore" stage. Three vacc's in one day wasn't a smart idea I'm thinkin. Not when I had to lift 20lb kids up and down and all around. Oh well, it was still $130 well spent, since they'll last me anywhere from 3-10 or so years. Maybe I'll just postpone Jerusalem and let my life slow down and become normal for once. It doesn't look like I'll be leaving anytime soon anyways. I have to find out what's going down with my thyroid and ovarian situations first off. I don't even care if this post sounds like a cry for help. Maybe that's what I need. I don't even know. I just want to sleep and not wake up for the rest of the year. I don't want to have another "Holly Jolly" Christmas. If I didn't hate winter so much I would go searching for Rudolph and Herbie and be misfits with them. Too bad they don't exist. I hate walking to work in the dark. It screws my mood up all day. I don't remember the winter having this much effect on me in years past, but boy its hittin hard this time. I just want to get the freakin tattoo so I can put my pain and seperation behind me. I'd rather feel physical pain than any more of this psycho-emotional crap.

Its nice to know I'm needed, even if it's by an infant who one minute is falling asleep on my chest and the next beating me up.

Apathetic is a pathetic way to be...?

I feel like I'm just going through the motions of happiness lately. Nothing seems to please me anymore; writing, reading, relaxing and even hanging out have all begun to let me down. Maybe it's just me that's the let down. I don't know.

There was a time when I was happy, when I could write a poem or two and feel immense pride at the gift God had given me. Now I feel like I'm writing for other people, for the expectations of becoming a great published writer. I want my work published, but if it means losing my joy for the art, is it worth it? Maybe I'll just keep writing and have everything published after I die. That would be less stressful. And then I wouldn't have to do any of the phone calls and contract crap. One of the frustrating things about writing is I've had a couple dreams about really good poems and when I wake up I can't remember a single word or idea from them. They're lost to me when conciousness returns.

I had a dream last night about my Gramma's funeral, but I had written a different poem for it. Except in my dream, I think Robin was reading the poem. I do remember that one though, it was about a happy re-birthday, about being reborn in heaven and all that stuff. I think I might try and write it and have it read at my funeral. We could do a celebration funeral, with birthday cake and all that stuff, that'd be less depressing I think.

Not that I plan on dying anytime soon, I've been thinking about funeral planning a lot lately. Shantelle had her's all planned out and it was amazing. The best funeral I've ever been to in fact. Not to sound morbid or anything, but I'd like to write down the things I've thought of for my own funeral. First of all, I do NOT want to be cremated. Ever. I want the service to be in Efree, not North West. If those two things are done wrong, don't bother going, it wouldn't be my funeral. I want to have a medly of these three songs sang: How Great Thou Art, Because He Lives and It Is Well With My Soul. I was singing those three in daycare one day and I really like the easy transition from one song to the next, plus the message in each is and has been a part of my life since birth. Because He Lives was sung or played at my baby dedication and the Sunday that I told Pastor Bob about my suicide attempts. How Great Thou Art is an amazing song, especially during the thunder storm while CITing. And I really like It Is Well, because when everything else seems to be going wrong, I rely on God and know that it is well with my soul when I remember his love for me. On the back of the bulletin, I want it to say that donations can be made to Efree for missions funds. Since I plan on going to Jerusalem and am struggling with the financial, I want other people who have been called to go into the world to be able to have money available to them. I want a eulogy or ugooglee to be read, a short message, and maybe two tributes or whatever. I don't want it to be a two or three hour long funeral. Also, some congregational singing would be awesome. Worship has always been a source of healing, repentance, forgiveness and reassurance for me, and plus, we should praise God in everything, even death. I don't know what songs I would want, since my taste in music will probably change by the time I die (assuming I live a long life). And, like Shantelle, I want the people to be fed afterwords. Not only because I like to eat, but because a lot of people will have to travel most likely. Oh, and by the way, you don't need to wear black to my funeral. I never did like wearing it, and don't want it to be all dark and depressing; my life saw enough of that, why bring it to the very end? If I were to die in Jerusalem, let me be buried there, but still have my funeral here. The costs to ship a coffin are probably insane, and really, its just a body, so it won't really be needed in the church. If you do need something to symbolize me or whatever, just have a picture or something. I've heard of people burying a coffin filled with the person's stuff when there was no body; don't do that, it won't do anything but rot in the ground, like my body. The stuff that can be used to help others, give it to them, otherwise throw it away. Except my poetry of course. Anyways, I had other stuff to write about on here.

It seems that I've become an easy target for emotional beatings again. I used to defend myself everytime someone hurt me. Then people got angry saying I was so defensive and couldn't take a joke. So I tried to improve on that. And I did a pretty good job, maybe too good I'm thinking. I've become the doormat again. I just sit there and take it. No matter how close to tears or anger I am, I sit there and smile. Trying to laugh with those who are laughing at me. Last night was a good example. The comments just kept coming as if they thought it was okay. The one that bothered me most of all, was Lacey saying I woudn't ever get a tattoo. I don't even care if she was joking. Where does she get off saying what I will and will not do? She doesn't even know who I am anymore. I hate people limiting me because they think I'm weak. Why do you think I don't cry around anyone anymore? Just to give them another reason to make fun of me? No thanks. Does she not think I've thought about tattooing long enough to know is gonna hurt like poop? I know all this and still want to do it. So don't ever say that I can't or won't.

Now I'm just getting angry and depressed again, so its time to leave. Don't worry about me, "I'll be just fine pretending I'm not".

Here's a link to my poetry. If you want to read through it all, great, if not don't worry about it. There are currently 51 poems on there, so I'll understand if you don't want to read them all. Plus I'm sure most of you have read almost all of them; a lot are on here as well. I'm not worried about offending anyone, they are what I felt at the time, if you don't like it, that's your problem. There are some pretty depressing/scary ones though, so you've been warned. Of course, there are uplifting ones too; gotta have a balance right? Anyways, without further stalling, here's the link: www.froannaspoetry.blogspot.com Haha so easy to remember, since its similar to this blog's link. Well, there you go. I'll be posting my poetry on there from now on, so if this one doesn't get updated in awhile, that would be why, its updated on there! I know its just one more place to keep track of and whatnot, but it's important to have all my writings in one place so I can keep count of them. Thanks for your support and inspiration. :)

The Music Of My Soul

A note is struck, a rumble fills the room
the audience holds its breath
the beginning cadences are beat out one after the other
energy consumes the heart of every man

The conductor's wand directs each note
introducing new instruments with every wave
deep emotion is captured and delivered
a soprano resounds throughout the amphitheatre
sending chills and raising hairs

The music softens, woodwinds slow the pace
the tune has become a faint heartbeat
with the lowering of the wand,
so stops the music
not a sound is made for many moments

With new fervor, the conductor strikes up a quick crescendo
the silence is conquored by cymbals and trumpets
the flutes trill, the violin bows dance upon the strings
the music spreads like fire, sending warmth and excitment to the listeners

The players return to normal time and continue the piece
still with energy they play the notes written down
and suddenly, as if in the middle of it all, they stop

I put down my pen, satisfied with the work thus far
For you see, I am the composer
and this is the music of my soul.

Dear Braxton

This is a letter to Braxton, a baby at daycare.

Dear Braxton,
I'm enjoying spending time with you and am glad that God brought you in to my life. You are so amazingly funny and silly. Thank you for brightening my heart.
Some days, you are a perfect angel and I fall more in love with your little antics. Other days, though, you become Jekyl and Hyde; changing from a cherub to a monster. Yet everytime the bad comes out, you run to me and pucker your lips for a kiss of apology and forgiveness. You don't know the ways you make my heart melt.
The times I have the most fun with you are when I tickle you and listen to you giggle, and after I've changed your diaper and stand you up on the change table and ask, "Are you ready?", you immediately crouch down and get ready for lift off as I swing you through the air, bringing laughter to us both.
Even through all the frustrating times and the times when both of us are sick and just want to sleep, you manage to bring a smile not only to my face and heart, but to my spirit as well. What I've learned this past month is that babies are the best anti-depressants that could ever be prescribed.
I'll never forget our special times when we sit together on the red chair and you drink your bottle and drift off to sleep. You're almost getting too big for those times, since you now sleep on a cot, and I know I will miss that.
I pray that God will work in your life and place a hunger and thirst for Him in your very being. I don't know what you'll grow up to be, but know that God will always be with you. I also know that you are too young to remember who I am when you get older, but I hope I never forget you and the part you've played in my life. I hope my future children appreciate the time I invest into their lives and know that love and patience were taught by you, Tony, Jordan, Braenna and Hailey. You'll make leaving this town all the more harder, but I will just have to trust God to take care of you when I no longer can.
I love you so much!
Love, Joanna

Infant's Dreams

The children are all sleeping,
the moon is shining bright.
The crickets are softly playing,
making music in the night.

Their tears and fears become your own,
and are enough to break your heart.
Dripping paint smeared across paper,
becomes a treasured work of art.

(First stanza written November 2, 2006; second stanza written November 4, 2006)