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. 

Whhhyyyyy…..

………………..

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.