Mercury meet-up

Party party in my brain,

don’t mind me, 

I’ve gone insane!

I just wanted to write a blog post about absolutely nothing. I was feeling very mischievous in a way I describe as mercurial. But hey, check it out, Mercury is passing the sun. No wonder I feel like this. There’s so much astrological activity going on lately, can I just blame my confused hormones on that? On everything? Please?

Right now I can devolve into utter absurdity. I can say the word “fart” and giggle til the cows come home.

But then I think about the cows. And I think about home. And when you spend your whole life feeling like you never belong anywhere, the thought of cows coming home can bring you to tears.

Just blame the hormones.

At what point in my life… in my day… can I be taken seriously? 

None of it matters. I blog for myself. I have no audience anymore. I’m not 18 anymore, I don’t hash out all my crazy on Facebook for all my friends to see. I’m an adult, I’m a mother, and I’m a mess. I know that people have shorter attention spans. People are less likely to read what I write these days than they did 10 years ago.

I feel really sad. The moment you feel your wholeness, your entire being splits in half all over again. I went for a walk only to discover a tiny snake dead in the middle of the road. I cried and told him I was sorry. I transferred his body to the grass so as not to get repeatedly run over. Like beating a dead horse. I spend my life beating every dead horse I can find. I don’t know why.

He told me the horse wasn’t dead, said it would eventually kick me back.

Funny how he crops up so much. Frustrating how much I let him affect my life… for so long.

And I have no interest in beating that dead horse anymore, certainly not in public. If you happen to read this, sorry. But not sorry. I will no longer apologize for my life affecting yours in any way. I loved you and I’ll never apologize for love.

Here is one of many struggles I currently have- the fact that I’m just too much to handle. That my love is so enormous and all consuming that even I die in the expression. 

I don’t want to write anymore. This hit a spot my brain is too tired to touch. I’m trying to decide if I’ll even publish this shitty post.

We never outgrow the ages we’ve been. Time doesn’t exist. I was 18 once. Therefore, I’m still 18. I’m still swatting at gnats in my brain, I’m still crying when I go for walks and feel the eternal presence of everything surrounding me. I still try to bottle it all up and not show it because nobody is going to understand. But I’m still going to write about it in the most sloppy terms and post it for public consumption because it’s the only thing I can do. And like 18 year old me, it’s possible I’ll delete it in the morning. When the light is renewed, my struggles seem so stupid. So irrelevant. So non-issue-y. It’s just hormonal Grace, shitting all over again. You’ll get used to her. You’ll get used to being confused at the contradiction of such a human who seems so put together and spiritual but also such a fucking mess who needs Jesus in the worst way.

What else is my life for if not for public consumption? If only one of you reads these words, I suppose that’s good enough. Here, look at this spackled mess of letters composing words composing sentences composing ideas that are hazy and jagged. I’m ridiculous. Let me be a reality show of ridiculousness. Just use me for observation of humanity. Check out my highs and lows. I’m all over the place.

I seek no response. This is the internet and I can say whatever I damn well please and you bet your ass I’m going to sieze the opportunity. Because what is the point of life lived in silence? In isolation? This stupid stupid life I’ve tried to lead, this obnoxious and deadly desire for perfection. Fuck it all to hell. 

Ah, such a delicious moment of clarity and freedom… I can do whatever I want. Sure, there’s always consequences. But nobody is stopping me. Nobody but ME. 

The clarity blinks out, just like that. But some moments are truly eternal. A tiny little hole allowing you to see the other side. You never forget it.

I’ll go ahead and publish this because why the hell not. I better practice what I preach. Gotta speak up. Expose my crazy because it definitely ain’t going away trying to stuff it in the closet. Uh uh. Crazy aaaaaalways comes out. I’d like to meet it on my terms before it takes too much of me. This is me saying, No, you’re MY crazy, I’m not your girl. I’m the owner here, not you. Crazy don’t own me. I own crazy.

I’m tired.


when the grass is light

I have this habit of sorta sabatoging myself all the time. I’m starting to wonder if I fell into this recent pit of depression for the sole purpose of blogging.

Scratch that. That makes no sense.

Either way, I’ve fallen into this pit and I’m not sure how to get out at the moment and honestly, I’m not even sure I want out. My apathy is that great right now. Apathy is always a little scary for me, since I live to feel everything. When I get apathetic, I get a little worred. Except that I’m apathetic and don’t really care.

Like an idiot, I question myself/God/universe/my bagel/the dishwasher (if I had one), “Why am I depressed right now?” as if there is one thing setting me off. And then I answer myself (because it would be weird if my bagel talked back), “Grace, it’s not one thing. It’s a LOT of things.” Ohhhh, right. Yeah. Everything is bothering me all at once. 



But does it even matter?

I stare out my bedroom window at the field and see the tall stalks of grass gently bowing and swaying in the breeze, and time comes to a standstill. It hit me the other day as I wrote in my journal. I looked out the window, as I am doing right now, and found myself moving with the grass. I’m not in here, I’m out there. In here is grumpiness and sadness, and out there is freedom and stillness. Inside is stagnant and gross, outside is movement and grace. 

It’s a moment of beauty in the midst of ugliness. 

Ah, what is this feeling? What is this pulling? It is an invitation. An invitation to open up. An invitiation to engage the desires laying dormant within the soul. It is a tender fierceness which longs for me. 

“What you seek is seeking you.” -Rumi

Love exists. It’s here, all around us. It never leaves. It is our own blindness which convinces us it is not here. And the fact that I can say this in the midst of feeling like shit only proves my point. 

This is what I can be thankful for. That despite the deep darkness I find myself in, I can always find a light. Always. It has far more to do with Love’s relentless pursuit of me than my pursuit of her (Love is feminine in my world). She sneaks in when I least expect it. And yes Grace, go ahead and feel like shit. You’ll discover the greater purpose for it soon enough. But you better take a long moment to feel thankful for these moments of clarity and light. That gratitude is a tiny mustard seed of faith, and faith is all I’ve got.

These are my ramblings. This is the only way I process. And I’m glad to be blogging again, because getting my words out there is one of the greatest forms of therapy for me. Will my words help you? I don’t know, and honestly, that’s not my purpose in sharing. I share because I have to. Because I’ll go crazy if I don’t. It’s just an added benefit if it touches another in any positive way. 

I have zero idea if this post will have any meaning to anyone else. But if it does, thank Love. 

day drinking

Every time I drink, I remember why I don’t drink.

My poor hyper-sensitive system cannot tolerate alcohol at all. Just a couple ounces and I start out laughing and laughing and then mumbling/yelling about the meaning of life and then I feel like I’m moving in extremely slow motion. I feel awful. My head feels sick. 

When I feel like life is overwhelming, I want to start drinking, because that’s what everyone else does. I was under the impression that people drink to forget their problems. Sure, let’s try that! Oh no. When I drink, all my problems become amplified times a hundred.

It’s just not fair. I want to be typical too. I want to be the slobbering drunk texting people she has no business texting. Or… something like that.

Nah, I’m just that girl who pretty much acts drunk without drinking, and then drinking actually crashes the whole party.

I’m not drunk. But I am seriously affected. And this post is a result of this affection. I guess this is my version of drunk texting. Tispy blogging. God, that is so nerdy.

Grace, never drink again. Especially when you don’t even like the taste of alcohol. How can you people drink this shit and ENJOY it? What is wrong with everyone? 

What is wrong with me? Why am I writing this stupidity? Ah, because my desire to be heard never quite goes awway. Fart fart fart in your face.

hahahahahaha now I’m laughing again. Why is everything so funny?

When I’m really depressed, everything gets a million times funnier. It’s a little odd and twisted, but that’s what happens. Humor will always be my defense against everything I don’t want to feel. Either I’m going to sit here staring into nothing with my face sagging into hell, or I’m going to find every possible absurd thing and laugh at it. There is no in between. The world is a comedy or it is a tragedy. 

These words will never be enough.

Ok, there’s my bullshit nonsense for the day. Hopefully one of these days I’ll actually write something worth reading.