...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)

One Really Long Weekend And Post

It all started on Wednesday night: After the NBI thing (which I didn't really enjoy, not in the right mood I guess), Robin and I took off to Andrew's, only to find he and Carrie were gone but would be back soon. So we waited there, in his house, alone. It was kinda funny actually. Then they came and Robin's mom freaked out on MSN and we were all scared that she was gonna come over and have a harry coniption. She didn't, but Carrie called her and most likely didn't help things out much. So, they danced a bit and then Carrie left. Andrew made us Itchi-ban noodles, which were good, and sang to us while we ate. My tummy was real jibbly, but I didn't really pay attention to it. Robin and he danced some more and then he drove us home. I sat around, on the computer (of course), and then mom went to bed. I followed soon after, or so I thought. While I was still upstairs with an even jibblier tummy, I saw and tasted my noodles again. Yuck! I haven't puked in forever, it was not an experience I want to repeat. So I took some drugs and went downstairs. I wrote a poem (below) and made many trips to the bathroom. I tried sleeping and failed miserably. So I watched some movies which I can't remember right now. At about 5am, I decided that my tummy was stable enough to try and sleep again, or in my case, finally. So I went to bed, got nice and warm and then cold and warm again (good ol' flu) and closed my eyes. Next thing I knew it was time to get up.
Thankfully I didn't have to work and slept in a little bit. We were leaving for Calgary and J&D told mom and I to be ready for "a bit after lunch". So we waited. And waited. I was too shaky and jibbly to bother with a shower, even though I felt real sickly. After a couple hours I said, "Man I could've taken like three showers by now!" Of course, they took long as always. When they finally came (2pmish) we packed up the van and were off. The boys were fighting and crying before we even got on to the highway and it all went downhill from there. By the time we got to St. Walburg, we had a blown-out tire. So we sat there for a bit while Dwayne looked around for a cheap spare and changed it. Phil called saying dad had cancelled their hotel room and told them they were staying at Aunty Kathy's. Boy, did that set tempers off! Good times. Dwayne called the hotel and found out it hadn't actually happened, that dad was just being a jerk. Or himself I guess. So we drove to Lloyd and Dwayne got better tires so we didn't have to drive 90 the whole way. We went to "the Walmart" and I got new shoes since I didn't think it would be appropriate to wear sneakers to another funeral. We went to Tim Horton's and took forever and a day because they're stupid and should probably be shot...in the big toe. By the time we left Lloyd it was nearly 8pm. Yup. 6 hours from Meadow to Lloyd. Yay.
After that things were much smoother. The boys and I (including Dwayne) watched most of Narnia. It was funny because Dwayne kept putting his arm around me to bug Jenn. We finally got to Calgary after midnight and mom and I stayed with J&D so we didn't have to wake people up at Kathy's. That was...fun?...no. After we all got settled down, apparently mom sounded like a goose with a sinus infection. All but Jenn slept through it. And at 3-3:30 I had a lovely coughing fit. I got an extra pillow out of it, so I can't complain much, especially since I didn't know I was coughing in real life until mom told me to get a drink. I was having quite a good dream through it all too. Oh well. So then we got up, showered (YAY) and went to Kathy's. And thus began the awkward third-wheelness. Its great when you haven't seen your family for over a year and yet you still feel like an outsider. We got the tour of their massive house and I went with dad and Carlos (cousin-in-law) to pick Phil & Lexi up at the airport. I was so happy to see them! (I have to be nice cuz I know you're reading this haha). We went back to the house, after I made sure I could stay at the hotel with them so I wouldn't have to be at Kathy's or a frickin bed & breakfast. We visited upstairs and then got kicked down to Grammie's suite so Tes could clean. Yeah, that was weird, sitting in a room that my Gramma had just died in three days ago. Creepy McCreeperson I tell you what. We worked on flower arrangements and butterfly stick thingy's. That was at least a little bit fun. We went back to the hotel to change for supper and then when to this Chinese restaraunt. Personally, I didn't like it at all. It was just the start of more Dethmer/Metz seclusion. Fun times. We went back to Kathy's to "visit" and work on the picture board. Well Jenn & Lexi worked on it mostly. And they did a really good job. Finishing at midnight and heading back to the hotel was good. No more being ignored for now at least.
I must say, sleeping in Phil & Lexi's room was...interesting. There were times I wished for earmuffs. And blindness. Haha. It was good though overall. We all spent a lot of time talking about how sick my cousins, Arthur & Heather were. They're brother and sister about 5 years apart. Yet, if you didn't know them, you'd think they were almost married! It was really gross. You could say they were very "fondle" of each other. *barf* The worst part was he had his girlfriend with him the entire time!
Okay, wake up, get dressed, do your hair, eat breakfast, go to the church an hour before the funeral starts, sit in a back room basically by yourselves (the Metz siblings anyways), and make fun of your family. Check. Listen to an old geizer pray for ten minutes before we are "processioned" into the sanctuary which is filled with old people you've never met. Check. Sit in a freezing room and listen to the old geizer talk about your Grampa more than about your Gramma. Check. Come on! He's been dead a year, lets focus on the most recent one already! Blast! Listen to your cousins and Aunty & Uncle talk/cry for a freakin hour nearly. Check. Get up and forcibly read the poem you wrote. Check. By the way, no tears were shed, only silent anger at the stupidity of this whole service. More people talk, sing, pray forever and a day. Miss Rob and Robin. Freeze some more. Nearly fall asleep. Check. Hear the old guy talk about food and nearly run for the aforementioned. Listen to him pray. Yet again. Check. Processionalize out, while passing the old people who are looking at you funny because you're not crying. Check. Stand around with family, when you really want to attack the food. Listen to half a dozen "Oh your poem was so beautiful, did you write it yourself? It was so meaningful, you really have a gift, I know she would be proud of you. Yadda yadda yadda." Check. Oh, Nicky, you're hungry, here let me help you get some food! Finally! Get some food, sit in a circle with your immediate family, ignored, yet stared at by the old'uns. Check. Become the mother of three with one comment. Check. Feel awkward, leave the kids by themselves. Check. Eat some more, not because you're an emotional eater, but because you just sat through a two and a half hour funeral that was really even about your Grammie at all. Check. Get grossed out by your cousins, condolencedized by more old people. Drop "suttle" hints that its time to get outta here. Check. Finally leave the church. Hallelujah!
Yeah, that was a fun morning-afternoon. Not. Seriously, one of the most impersonal, angering funerals I've ever been to. We head back to the hotel and sleep for about half hour. Get loaded into the van again and go to the Mausoleum for yet another service thing. Put the box in a glass wall filled with other boxes. Take some family pictures because its always a photo shoot with my family. Look around, "chit chat", and go back to the hotel. Jenn tells me to be ready in an hour to go to Kathy's for supper. Okay. Go back to room and visit with Tim & P&L. I hear the Voth's in the hall and think they're coming to get me. After awhile, I no longer hear them and go looking at T&C's for them. "Are they here?" "No they just left." Great. So, I rush down the stairs and look in vain for their van. Gone. Excellent. I have to intrude on T&C and P&L's supper plans. We drive around looking for a restaruant, on the right side of the road, and end up at BP's; even though Nicky "just wanted to go to Hooters!" hahahahaha. Its not about owls, Nick. We get seated and order and wait. And wait. Nick & Tim go to the bathroom and I take Shanna as they're getting back. What I missed was Nick getting hip-checked into the corner of a wall by a waitress. I miss all the good stuff. We get back to Nicky laying his head on a bag of ice in Phil's sweater. The story is told and we wait for our food. Apparently the cooks were fighting, "sorry for the wait, the manager is trying to work things out." Great. Our food comes, cold and we eat. Nick's pepperoni was bad and I felt sick from my pizza. After an hour forty five since arrival we finish up and head to Kathy's. Nick's meal was free, and they had the audacity to wonder why Tim didn't leave a tip! DUH! You concussed my nephew! We walk in and see the Dethmers sitting at one table and the Metz's at another in two different rooms. Cuz that really makes you want to eat supper with them hey? I'd take crappy service BP's any day. Oh, and Arthur and Heather cuddling on the couch with her seperating Arthur and his girlfriend. That'll make you want to keep your meal down. Again, not. We sit around and "visit" again. Say goodbye to some people, sit around some more. Then, Heather sits on my dad's lap. GROSS! You're 22 for Peter Paul and Mary's sake! Grow up a bit. *barf again* Finally we head back to the hotel after "it was so good to see you's" and real hearfelt hugs...haha I'm funny. Yay! Sleep! Not remembering that the time has changed for them, I set my alarm for 7:15 so I can be ready to leave a bit after 8. I get dressed and lay back down to wait for Tim & Clare. Oops you fell asleep and its now 8:30! Jump out of bed and open the door to see T&C in the hallway. They had tried to get breakfast an hour ago, also forgetting about the time change. So we all head down and eat some foods. More goodbyes, this time real and heartfelt (seriously). I go with T&C back home.
It was quite enjoyable, everytime I woke up we were somewhere new. I had no idea where we were since we went the Drumheller way to get to Osler where their van was (used a rental). I could've gone pee in Nickleback's hometown, but decided to hold it (bad idea). We order food at the A&W Express and head out. I slept some more and read a bit. We drove through Rosetown and I remembered "Ax of Murder" dramafest. Then on to the Osler Gramma and Grampa's house for supper. That was fun, Clare and I got to vent to Frank & Mary about my weird and annoying family. We left and went to NB and got donuts at Tim's and drove home.
So here I am, venting to you guys. I have to work in less than 9 hours. Yay, so not looking forward to it. I feel like this month has been a waste where work is concerned. I missed a day for one funeral, called in sick once and took bereavment (sp?) leave for 3 more days for another funeral. Last week I only worked one day, which of course had to be the day my Gramma died while I was there. Both people died while I was at work, or I found out about them there anyways. Such good memory making times. People dying, babies pooping on me, eating hairy buffalo meat. Yeah, this month sucked. Hardcore. But I did get to hang out with Robin and Nicole, Lana, Jen Fry and Eryn Cockrum. Dang it I miss you Rob.
On top of it all, when we were in Lloyd, I realized that I had forgotten my anti-depressants at home. Whoohoo, sure to be an emotional weekend I thought, but it really wasn't, except for anger and annoyance. I'm going to sleep now hopefully. Good night.

The Lighthouse And The Butterfly

There was once a lighthouse and a butterfly.

He brought shelter in a storm,

and she gave beauty to a rocky landscape.

As they grew together; his light spreading across the vast waters,

the butterfly decided it was time to spread her wings.

She travelled far and saw many beautiful things,

but always longed for the company of the lighthouse.

A great storm came, one that the lighthouse could not battle.

The butterfly sensed that something was wrong and tried to get back.

She tried to find her beloved friend, but it would seem

that he had gone where she could not follow.

Saddened, the butterfly stayed close to the rock upon which the lighthouse once stood.

One night she had a dream,

she was with her lighthouse again, warmed and protected by his light.

She awoke and found her dream had come true.

The lighthouse saw her and its light shone bright around her.

They were together once more, but were not forgotten.

His light saved many and her beauty brightened countless lives.

They were where no storms could reach them,

together forever, where no more pain could come.

In loving memory of Katherine Vaughn Metz
March 28, 1925 - October 24, 2006

and Arthur Hamilton Metz

October 11, 1917 - September 17, 2005

This Well Is Running Dry

This well is running dry
One after another they reach in
Expecting the same refreshing
That came so easily before

It takes more effort than it should
To quench a thirsty traveller
A task once simple to fulfill
Now causes strain on the rope & pullies

The water has become farther away
Gone is the daily renewal
Forgotten are the times of renewing
The water's healing is nearly only a legend

Each lowering of the bucket
Brings the imminent dryness closer still
Perhaps it will be made in to a wishing well
Rocks filling up the bottom
Chipping away at the parched walls

The water itself is beginning to lose its quality
Becoming muddied and silty
Still the travellers come and drink
Hoping for more of its enlightenment

This well is running dry
Water is scarce and the rope is frayed
The next draw of the bucket takes effort
The expectant drinkers watch in disappointment
Nothing comes out

Finally catching up.

Oh where to begin? Let's back up to...last week I guess. I went on an extreme emotional rollercoaster in the timespace of about two days. On Wednesday, I was on my lunch break and sitting by myself when I realized that it was my Grampa's birthday. Or, at least it would've been, but he's been dead for over a year. That bummed me out. Then, after work I went to aerobic kick boxing with Nicole and Eryn and then swimming with them, Lana and Jen Fry. My endorphins were so through the roof. Other than the screaming pain in my quads and abs from being out of shape, I was in a great mood. We all, except Jen, slept over at Eryn's. It was real good times. I got up real early to get to work and had a pretty normal day. All was going well until Tiff called Diny at work. I was holding/just finished feeding baby Jordan and didn't tune in to the convo until Diny said, "Oh no, she did?" I looked up and she said, "Shantelle died this morning. Needless to say, I got up and held on to Diny for support as I cried, still holding Jordan, who was laughing at my tears. After talking with Diny for a bit, I went on a 15 min break. I went to the Door to talk to my mom and see if she knew. I walked around the corner and saw Jennifer walking away. I told mom to call her, cause I could hardly talk, and she turned around and we walked to each other and cried together. Apparently, Chester had come to the Door around 2:30, by now it was about 3:15 or so, and told people about Shantelle. My mom didn't want me to know, because she knew it would finish my day. I cried for a bit, then had to go back to work. I think I just pushed it aside, it hadn't really sunk in yet. I went home, had supper, looked at her blog, and went to Jr Youth. That was hard. I was so out of it and really didn't want to deal with loud bratty kids. (And yet I work in a daycare). So that was my weird week/couple days. I was really sad, really REALLY happy, and then really really sad again.

That was Thursday, I had to figure out a way to get to S'toon for Shantelle's Funeral on Monday. Jenn & Dwayne said I could go with them. So I did. It was a really nice funeral. I didn't plan on crying, I put make-up on to ensure this, but it didn't work out. I bawled. There were moments when I wanted to hold Darren's hand (I was sitting next to him), but I got through it alone.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to write about, but in the process and procrastination/busy life, I've forgotten it. Oh yeah, yesterday I fainted at the hospital after getting TB testing. I didn't faint because of the needle, but because I had waited too long between meals. Plus my cold/flu added to it all I'm sure. When I got back to work I was playing with the kids and had two on my lap in a chair. One got down, and wanted to get up again. She really stunk, and she had just pooped. What I didn't realize right away was that I was her target. And she hit her mark. I got pooped on. Sick! I felt really gross for the rest of my shift. But then I went to youth group and watched Ernest Saves Christmas (funny times) and found a letter from Dione in my box. I would've cried, but had to go back up. Meh, its ok. I still felt the emotions. Thanks Dione, it meant a lot and I really needed to hear those words at that moment. Anyways, I need to do laundry and sleep. And check other internet stuff. Like my Myspace...haha I got suckered in to it. Check it out! www.myspace.com/froanna so original eh?

PS One of my favorite parts of the S'toon trip was on Sunday night when we were all in bed at the hotel and said good night. We (Jenn, Dwayne and I) all said, "Goodnight _____ I love you". And for once I knew that we all really meant it. I know we don't say I love you a lot in my family, but it is nice to hear it once in awhile. So family: I love you! and Good night.

I Give Up On Titles...

I'm at a place again where I want to write, but don't know what to write. Of course, every time I say this, I end up writing a very long, confusing, muddled, non-corelating blog. I feel empty. I long for love, happiness, and peace, to name a few. I want marriage and a family of my own. One that hasn't been tainted by hatred. I want my own little fairy-tale. I mean, really, what girl wouldn't love having her own castle? (the Prince Charming doesn't hurt either). I've got to stop reading historical romance books. Its most likely not helping. But really, are love and family the desires of my heart? Are they the deepest? God I wish you would show me. When does an interest become an addiction? When do fear-filled daydreams become prophetic? I most likely have more non-sensical wonderings to spout about, but I have to get up for work tomorrow.

Babies cry. A lot. And they drool. I feel sticky. I might have to shower daily (oh no! haha).

Ok, I know I really shouldn't make a big deal about this, but its starting to bug me. Turkey day is one of the few holidays that hasn't died/sucked for me thus far. Will there be turkey for me? No. We get ham. Yay. I know I should be grateful that I actually have the privilege of choosing between ham or turkey and that I even get anything at all to eat. It just sucks because I was really looking forward to turkey, potatoes and gravy, stuffing and some delicious pumpkin pie. I guess it wouldn't really make sense for my mom to buy a turkey for three people. We'd have left-overs for weeks (although we always do anyways). Gahhhhhhh. I just want to go back to my childhood where everything was normal and special and turkey-filled. haha.

In other news, if you haven't already heard, I quit at Bean There. There was way too much shifty buisness and stress for me. It was a really good job and I had fun while it lasted, but I'm glad and at peace that its over. I'll be starting at Tiny Treasures day care at the Hope Center. I'm so excited! I spent a couple hours there on Monday with the babies and my heart was captured. They're so cute! and quite easy to handle. Maybe they were having a good day, but I'm sure there'll be good and bad days in the future. I love the fact that I'll be the fourth Metz to work at the Door. I get to see mom and Tim & Clare everyday, plus Nicky and Shanna are in the daycare, so of course, I'll see them a lot. I can't believe how homesick I got working at Bean There. I hardly ever saw any family except on weekends and the half hour or so it took for mom or dad to pick me up.

What am I gonna do when I leave? I still lived in the same house as them, just never saw them. I'm gonna be across a huge ocean and couple continents! I know that this is where God wants me to be, but can't help wondering if I'm going at the right time. I sometimes doubt my motives when I've had a fight with dad and say that I can't wait to leave. Am I usuing Jerusalem as another escape? Most likely, but it was also a calling before it was an escape.

Ok, what the crap is going on with me lately? I can never seem to get filled up! Its beginning to worry me a bit. I'm always hungry and am not eating really bad junk food when I get hungry. This is good, but then why isn't the moderately healthy stuff filling me? And I don't think its the flu, because its staying down and in normally. I seriously don't want to deal with thoughts of anorexia again, but all this eating is making me gain weight which in turn is making me hate myself. I almost cried today when Gayce called me "absolutely beautiful". She told me to start believing it, but I'm glad that she also understands how hard that can be. I just wish that I wasn't so freakin messed up all the time. If its not one thing, its ten other different things. Honestly, I'd like to be able to look back on my life and say, "I was really healthy at this point." Mom says the hungriness is probably from inactivity, but really, I've only been "inactive" for two days now. And this has been going on way longer. Effin hormones suck. Its annoying, I'll eat, feel satisfied, stop, and half an hour later need to eat again. And I was doing so well with my weightloss. Maybe when I'm running after small children all day I'll get back to normal.

Anyways, enough complaining. I am thankful for creative expression, family, friends, and freedom.

Ah sweet depression, my ever present comforter-controller. We are but on the eve of our fifth year since you were brought into existence. Or perhaps it was just acknowlegement and you were here with me all along. What shall I cover you up with next? Insistent planning of an ever-nearing future? I've used up all excuses to splurge my "hard-earned savings". Although I'm sure I could always think of more.

And what have you brought along with you? It seems to me as though misery, deception and failure are never far from your side. I wallow in my self pity, only to be angry at myself for not cheering up. This in turn causes more self pity, knowing that I'm ungrateful and will never be good enough to love because I, myself, do not love. Ironically, its myself I do not love. I decieve myself, trying to be thinner, quieter, louder, less "curvy", tanner, less of myself. Deception is a recipe for failure, for everyone knows that if you decieve yourself, you'll only fail at impossible, most-likely imagined, unrealistic goals. Thus, the cycle of depression begins again, stronger, if not moreso, than the last round.

And so, here I sit, after a personal photo-shoot. One that I began to capture my true self in the moment. One that I left, only after editing and "perfecting" every picture that I deemed "worthy". Who sets these standards? One could always blame the media. Or the age old "all bad things are a result of sin". But do/are we do(ing) anything about it? Once again I'm moving from subject to subject, not connecting them enough to make sense to anyone other than myself. But then again, isn't that what it's all about? Our personal struggle and accomplishments through this mess we call life? And does anyone ever find the meaning of life; before the life they were trying to fill with meaningfulness is over and forgotten?

For fear of becoming too philisophical for my own understandings, I will end here and leave you with the "beauty" I've captured in these wee hours.

Blogger is being tight and only letting me upload two. If you're truly interested in the others, be warned, they're very raw and somewhat disturbing.

Now you know.

Cracked, Slightly Broken

Cracked, slightly broken
an earthen vessel on a shelf
Awaiting the day of renewal
To once again feel purpose

Cracked, slightly broken
yet this vessel remains together
The wound, although deep, isn't more
Than the handiwork can withstand

Cracked, slightly broken
seemingly forgotten and left to deteriorate
Patiently it sits upon the Potter's shelf
Knowing only He can repair the damage done

Cracked, slightly broken
the earthen vessel is placed upon a table
To be made new, it must let its Maker work
Beautiful once again, but not without going through the fire

Cracked, slightly broken
a heart still beats inside
Striving for beauty, yet
Afraid to trust the Potter and His refining fire

Cracked, slightly broken
the heart continues to fill itself up
All the effort is to no avail
As imitation love seeps through, widening the crevices of pain

Cracked, slightly broken
this heart has had enough
Tired of doing things on its own
She surrenders to her Maker

Cracked, slightly broken
a new experience is felt
Over flowing with love that is true
Love that repairs all past cracks

Cracked, slightly broken
are the hearts of many others
Seeing their pain and knowing true healing
The once crumbling heart ministers to ones as she once was

Dione On A Blog

Here's the link to Dione's blog: www.childoftheking7.blogspot.com I helped her make it. :)

Check it out. Do it. I dare you to. Go on. You know you want to. Are you doing it yet? No? Why not!? DO IT! It's Dione! On a blog! Ok. GO. haha like the band. And Go.