Superheroes Cry Too.

And he said to me: “If it were up to us to save the world.. we’d be screwed.”
My boyfriend is a smart boy. Too mature for his age and a heart that’s too big for his chest. Last night as a l lay in bed, with my duvet suffocating my every breath and tears streaming down my face I was gently soothed by the words of a boy who deserves a better title. Sometimes words are only words, and sometimes they are so much more. If I asked anyone of you I bet that 9 out of 10 would say that sometimes they feel like they can’t do it or that they aren’t good enough. Maybe even all 10 would agree. And here I lay in my bed- just last night, broken and numb. Clingy to the false perception that I am in no way good enough. Reality check sweetie, you will never be perfect- whatever that even means. But guess what? It’s okay.
Last night I stared reality in the face. I can’t save the world. Who doesn’t want to be a superhero? Who doesn’t want to do all they can to save humankind? Who doesn’t want to see this world in a better state then it currently is? Reality tells me that I can’t erase the darkness of this world. At the same time it tells me that I can help.
It isn’t me. Nor was it ever me. I wasn’t created a girl to save the world. But I was created to make a difference. Bring some light. And more simple then all of that.. love. If it were up to any of us, we couldn’t save the universe. We would all end up in ruins. Probably in an even more messed up state then we find ourselves. We weren’t asked to be something we aren’t. And we were not asked to do a job that isn’t ours.
There is a prominent force in this world. A benevolent one that is out there with us, day in and day out. He is the one that will bring this world to peace. That will have this planet on it’s knees. He will restore all of the broken and bring justice to a species in need.
So in the mean time, when life gets rough, when things feel hopeless, always cling to the truth that there is a promise our desperate world will be saved.
Bring your weary, worn out soul, and rest it in the only thing that breathes life back into the lungs of a collapsed spirit.
In one conversation. One prayer. One reminder of love and hope. I learnt many things. Things I may have known. But needed a firm reminder of. My boyfriend is a smart boy. And he said to me: “If it were up to us to save the world.. we’d be screwed.”

The Contour of an Exposed Disaster.

I find myself sitting at your feet once again. It’s that place I find myself when I hang my pride-filled coat at the door. My eyes are wet with tears and my heart heavy with this craving that is never satisfied. My body is bruised, I hope you can recognize me because I surely don’t. How is it that I arrived in this desert? So dry and so in need of a cup of water. Bare-boned and exposed I feel ashamed sitting in front of you. My silhouette is dark and my limbs have been stripped of the clothes that covered up this broken soul. Sometimes it just feels like this disease running through my veins and pounding through my chest.
This is when you tell me that I am free from the ropes that bind me to this floor. This is when you tell me that I never had you fooled. This is when you place your loving hand upon my breaking back and support this twisted spine. Still I am not sure if I feel you there or if maybe I am still numb from the damage I have done. For someone like you to love a creature like me seems surreal. My mind just can’t comprehend your perfection. You desire to make me whole and I can’t get past the fact that I never feel good enough. Maybe I am scared of letting you down or maybe I am scared of not being in control. You know- so maybe you should tell me.
How is it that I can recite the proper words off by heart, like the songs I learned as a child, but I can’t fuse it to this heavy heart? All I know, and maybe all I need to be aware of right now is that you are still my beloved and I am still yours while I sit in this desert.

My New Garden

Sometimes it feels as if this life is one giant competition. Not one that any of us remember signing up for. Not one that we are sure how to be significant contenders in. We are born into it. Messy and naked. Taken from the warm world we once thought was home. We are then slapped on the butt with an unfamiliar hand and told that it’s already begun and we are to jump on in.
Excuse the exaggeration. There is a few years of innocence, a few years of education, a few years of, let’s say “training”. Then our blinders are removed and there it is. The race we all must inevitably join.
What is it that began while we felt warm and secure? Honestly, it started long before the day we were warm and secure. It started with a man and a women. (Doesn’t it always?) They lived in this garden, a perfect one. One that any of us would have been more than comfortable in. With only one rule to follow- “do not eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” With many other delicious fruits amongst them, this doesn’t seem too hard now does it? False, these two people, Adam and Eve, they were human too. Imperfect and broken, just as we are. Curious. Falling into temptation. Falling into the desire to gain more. And to go to any lengths to do so. Sadly, this rule was dismissed and ignored, and now here we are, ages down the road in a far more broken world than probably ever before. I can’t say that I blame the two of them. We were created with the ability to make choices. Good, bad. We choose. Unfortunately we don’t always make the right choice do we? I will be the first to admit that I would have failed too. Adam and Eve. Two names that will be spoken of for as long as the world survives. Pretty epic right?
Back to that whole idea of having a desire to attain something. Eve was tempted by a disgusting creature. She probably thought, “what’s the harm? I am about to gain complete knowledge of what is right and what is wrong.” If she was anything like me, she probably wrestled the thought out between her head and her heart. One saying ‘go’, the other saying ‘stop, please.’ Go is so much more fun than stop. One bite taken and then she shares this not-so-lucky fate with Adam. One decision changed a lifetime. Changed everything that was meant to be. This is our world.
Too often it feels like this life is a tournament. That we have to somehow gain more. That we have to climb higher and higher. All in the effort to become the best, the wisest, the prettiest, the most famous, whichever it may be. What do we do to get there though? Do we step on peoples toes? Do we lie, cheat, steal? We become fake, hardened, selfish. Consumed by our sick and monopolized world. This is such a sad and bitter way to look at all of this. But some day’s I just feel too tired to look at it any differently. My mind becomes blurred with resentment and there is a wish that burns deeper than ever. You know those two words, “If only...”
Why did that unfamiliar, cold hand have to slap my newly exposed butt. Why did I grow out of innocence and become exposed to this whole “competition.” Well, number one, it isn’t a competition. I think it is time that many of us accepted that reality. Number two, we all our equal competitors and we do not by any means have to be rotted with self-serving cravings. Take a step above your false impulses and next time you consider pushing someone off of the cliff, grab their hand instead. Next time you find your words oozing with false intentions, stop, restart and be incorruptible. I promise I will try these things as well. This race is not real. It was created by a world in which none of us win. Things will continue to be messy, but that’s alright, let’s just try extracting ourselves from the mess. I am tired. I am withdrawing myself from this fraudulent contest. Please join.

The Leaf That Mocked Me.

So I’m driving home tonight and there is a yellow leaf sitting in my windshield wipers. It looks as if it was strategically placed in order to prolong it’s ending life. Safe and secure, proud of itself for the grip it has taken. My hand moves quicker than my brain, and please don’t think I am morbid, but I am reaching for my windshield wipers before I even realize I am about to crush it’s yellow hopes and dreams of holding on just a little longer. As I take my first vicious strike I find myself thinking “let’s get rid of this leaf!... why is it even there?... was I even parked under a tree?... I can’t remember.” First strike and no movement from the leaf. Failure gets the best of me and I take my second strike with more force. Yellow and proud, it is as if it is laughing at my frustration with failure. Does this leaf know me? He sticks around to laugh in my face. Then, before another thought consumes my mind or before I take a third strike he dances off and I feel a bit jealous of how much control he has of his life.
Now I find myself coming to a stop as there is a Mom and son crossing the street hand-in-hand. I look at them and make eye-contact with the mom first. She waves thankfully at me for stopping and attempting to keep their lives safe. Then my gaze shifts and I meet the eyes of the adorable little boy who is mimicking his mom, arm stretched out toward me. I can’t help but wave at him and he moves a little slower, almost pausing in the street to smile as big as he knows possible and wave back.
As I drive on I can feel a tightness in my cheeks, looking in the rearview mirror I see a large, dorky smile has spread from ear to ear. In this moment, genuine happiness, joy. Not that I am normally unhappy or bitter, but it was so unexpected. Smiling as the journey continues. Joyful, content, balanced. My mind is pulled back to that yellow leaf, like he is tapping on my shoulder whispering, “I had a lesson for you my dear.”
If we don’t take the time to look at something, we may never even notice that it’s there. Focus on the beauty in something as simple as a leaf. Appreciation is key. Appreciate the people crossing the street. Appreciate the fallen leaves. Appreciate movement. This means that we should recognize the full worth of everything. Indulge in a deep breath and appreciate it. Breath keeps us alive.

Balloon.

Today my best friend and I did something that has been in the works, well possibly since day one. We may not have seen it coming from the start, but like an unexpected rainfall, it was inevitable. Something we all have to understand in life is that, people disappoint you. No matter how much we believe that someone can fulfill all the desires of our heart, we learn the hard way this is merely fiction.
So what about second chances. Let’s try third, fourth, fifth, tenth. You may say “foolish girls, it is their own fault for getting hurt time and time again.” But you would be foolish for thinking so. We knew time after time it was going to end with an aching heart, but there was no way we could go on without trying. I think maybe our Mothers told us the story of ‘the little engine that could’ one to many times. On behalf of both of us, we learnt heaps from every moment. All of our memories, we still hold those close, but they come with lessons. Ones that I pray some day you will learn too. Maybe not in such a tender way, but I sincerely hope you do.
Today we stepped onto a field. Two girls. Balloons in hand. One orange. One pink. No fear. No looking back. And we let them go. We watched them float until we could no longer see them. In such a simple action we let go of years of turmoil. Everything that was negative, everything holding us back, everything clogging the valves of our heart. It was all gone with one swift release of our hand. Satisfaction guaranteed.
I understand that this is all a bit confusing, and that really only two of us understand what this is all about. But it isn’t about what happened. It isn’t about the past. It isn’t saying that we are any better than the one who hurt us. It is about a new beginning. It’s about putting the hurts of our past behind us. Locking them in some fictitious box, attaching a heavy weight and throwing it in the ocean. Never to be brought up again. I guess in our case, it was attaching all our hurts to a balloon and letting go. Not letting go of the person, because we will still be there. Right where we were left. But from this day forward, we are no longer living in the pain of the past. We are moving forward and entering a new chapter free of all the ropes that tied us down. Two brave new girls.

Wearing my Dress Underwater

I drag my toe across the top of the deep blue water. The cold sends chills through my body. Nothing really feels as cold as my heart though. The water is tempting me. It’s calling out my name. “Jump in silly girl with a foolish heart”, it cries. How does it know me? Panic pulls my toe back from the broken surface of the blue abyss. So I stand there. Face to face with the unknown. Will apprehension get the best of me? It always does. Questions pour into my brain. This seemingly magnetic force draws me to the ground. Pulling my body into the fetal position. I close my eyes and let my mind take me away. The stone cold ground numbing my face. Toes curled tight and every limb as close to my body as possible.
Audacity creeps into my veins and I rise. The blood is pumping fast to my heart and it beats through my chest. It may rupture if I don’t act quick. Without thinking twice I find myself mid-air. And before long my whole body is submerged in the bone-numbing liquid. My toes graze the bottom and I rise to the surface. Treading as my body shivers in the cold, I look around and that solid ground I once stood on has disappeared. Am I going to sink or swim? Sinking would be the easy way out. This coward of a girl holds her breath and once again emerges her soul into the deepness of the sea. I am met by something under the water and it grabs my hand. Together we swim into the dark. The touch of our fingers is enough to keep us alive and warm. Uncertainty will not take away this opportunity. Swimming is all we can do. It’s all we will do. Hands clasped.

Untangle

I wear this mask. I wear it well. Every morning I put it on. I put it on like I put mascara on my eyelashes. It is just another commodity to hide behind. My identity remains hidden to all around me. They think they know me, know who I am. They know nothing. Not one thing. They know my mask. They know it well. They know the fabrication my life has become. My heart is a mess. A painted canvas covered in colors I can’t remember applying. It feels like a state of madness. A state I want to escape but somehow, it is inconveniently unavoidable. My life is a routine. The world has made me into just another consumer of her mundane corporate society. Convincing me to buy into all of her lies. I’m not good enough if I’m not perfect. What is perfect? Apparently it’s this mask I wear. Which only sends me full force back to where I began. Spinning faster then ever, I can hardly catch my breath. My heart is crying out, “slow down girl.” That whisper is over-powered by thousands screaming criticism into my ears. If I don’t meet the standards they set for me. I will only fail. Failure is not an option. Walking down the plastic streets, hearts are crying out for substance. For something to take hold of. Anything. I seize items that are temporary. Material that will pass by like a moment fleeting in time. I don’t know who is truly happy, and who, like me, is wearing their mask. Sadness, emptiness, brokenness is twisted in the colors of our eyes. A painted on smile seems enough to distract from any depth of my reality being uncovered. If I present happy, I am happy. Look into my eyes, not for too long. What did you see? Certainly not any authentic part of this mere mortal. I feel the porcelain of this mask is starting to crack. The mask is deteriorating, kind of like my heart. People are going to notice, so I apply another layer of make-up to this beauty queen lifestyle. It isn’t enough to mend the fractures. So I wander home. To what feels like a shelter of protection and I stand yet again in the mirror, staring at the mask. It has taken over and my hands try to pry it off. Fingers bleeding at the force it takes to pull it off. Finally it falls to the floor and shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces. A tear falls down my cheek and I look at the reflection of a female who has no idea who she is anymore. I’m so tired of forcing a smile even I don’t recognize. Slowly I become untangled. It must be night time. I must be alone. Something tells me I’m not. I feel a presence. It has a secret to tell me. Part of me wants to retreat under the covers of my all too familiar bed. Normally I would. But tonight is different. So I wait, sitting in a war of fear and hope. And the voice speaks. It says to me, “Child. There is no mask you can hide behind. Your mask is just a deception to yourself, and to others. I see what is under your mask and I adore it. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. I always have been. That junk you are choking on. Give it to me. Breathe deep. I am your breath. I am your heart beat. I love you and not your mask. I always will.” The voice turns into a hand holding me up. And for once, I feel safe.