I want to touch on something I have noticed recently (and something I am completely guilty of at the same time)
This past week I have noticed every single morning on facebook, a scary amount of people full on complaining about how they are "off to their soul sucking, mundane, life ruining, everything wrong with the world (and other words) job."
We have all had jobs that really are horrible. It's kind of a right of passage I think to being human.
The thing is folks, ultimately, and I know it is a kind of harsh realization, YOU put yourself in that position everyday.
Don't think I'm a mega douche just yet...
I completely realize you have rent to pay, you have to feed yourself, you have to afford gas and bills, and hell maybe even spare a few bucks a month to actually do something fun. I have been in that position my ENTIRE life. I have never not had a job, where I still didn't completely struggle and barely float with my head above financial waters. Working in the marine biology field you are automatically setting yourself up for a life full of money problems and cheap clothing. But I chose that path and I knew what I was getting myself into. Even right now, I am technically unemployed, I am the poorest as far as money goes, more so than I have ever been in my whole life. I really have almost NOTHING to my name. I know how you feel, I'm right there with you.
The thing is...
You have picked your job. I realize there aren't hundreds of options out there, and there are tons of other eager people to compete against for new jobs, BUT...by not doing ANYTHING other than sitting there and writing sad little things about how much you hate your entire existence because of your job and so on...YOU are not getting ANYWHERE.
By CHOOSING to let your job defeat you on a DAILY basis, you are accepting failure! You are throwing out all possibilities of something amazing eventually coming along your path!! KNOCK IT OFF!
Wake up, go to your less than desirable job, get paid not nearly enough, and then go home and HUNT.
Focus all your energy on actively searching for a new job, put yourself out there, visit places you'd like to work and just introduce yourself. Write people LETTERS expressing interest. STAND OUT from the pack. And most importantly DO IT WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE. No one wants to hire someone who acts like the entire world is against them. By putting those feelers and that energy out into the world, something will eventually present itself in your life. It always gets a little worse before it gets better, but you have to be proactive about this or else, baby, you aren't going anywhere.
In fact, this past year, I completely GAVE UP with no plan ahead of me. I spent thousands of dollars to drive across the country to move to Florida for a job that ended up being the worst I've EVER had! And I threw in the towel, quit, and moved back home to figure my life out. That is ok to do too! It is ok to rely on other people for a short period of time, it is MORE than ok to take care of yourself and figure out what your next step is. It's ok to admit total defeat.
In the end, it's all about PERCEPTION. It's all about YOU deciding how something or someone is going to affect you. Every minute of every day you are given the opportunity to decide how you are going to react to everything going on around you. REACT WITH PURPOSE.
I LOVE YOU. I love you more than you can know! And I BELIEVE in you! If you are unhappy with something in your life, then make a change. Don't worry about what other people will think, don't worry about not living in the coolest place, don't worry about going out, don't worry about disappointing people. THIS LIFE IS YOURS, SO DAMNIT...TAKE CONTROL OF IT!
I LOVE YOU :)
Now go show the world what you are capable of doing!! BE THE CHANGE. BE LIGHT. BE LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Your Own Personal Jesus PART 2
So here I was at 23 years of age, depressed to severe levels, planning suicide, feeling so alone and lost in this world, and completely Godless (or so I thought.. after all, who would want to help me out when I cursed him on a daily basis and hated him?) I hit the lowest parts of my life, drowning myself in all kinds of substances, and eagerly planning how I would end my own life.
Somehow I survived another year of my life, which brought a whole new batch of problems that included "dealing with being a victim of suicide a year later". It seems silly and I completely realize to some people you'd think that at some point in your life you would just "get over it." like there is switch that eventually flips and suddenly you can resume a normal life again. That's not the case at all. Like I've said in a past posting, you never ever lose that feeling...it is with you forever, everywhere you go, in everything you do. You cannot just push it to the side or else it flares up and gets worse and explodes when you least expect it to. You need to deal with that pain on a daily basis, acknowledge it, and continue to adapt with it and learn to cope with it so you can come off as having a "normal life", and so you can continue to heal and eventually even start to thrive a little.
So here I am a year after Chris died, and I am given an opportunity to move to the Bahamas to work for the Disney Cruise Line as a stingray trainer/zoological manager. To this day, I still cannot figure out if that offer and life change was a blessing, or just pushed all the healing I really needed to do, back by 9 months. Either way, it happened and is a part of my life, and probably did save me in a way.
Living a life without God is easy. You feel like suddenly no rules apply to you, you have complete freedom, you don't have this imaginary being looking over you and judging you. It's very easy to get caught up in that and become slightly addicted to it. "I don't answer to nobody, I am the master of my own universe and destiny!" It sounds great, but the thing is, when you do hit another rough patch, you will never feel more alone. The 4 years where I pushed God completely out of my life were fun (very shallow and lonely, but fun). I can admit that. I had a lot of insane adventures, a lot of dirty crazy fun, and expressed myself a lot and really learned more about who I was and my limits. I crashed and burned a lot, and made many mistakes.
I promise this all has a happy ending...or..not really an ending as I am not dead, but it get's better :)
SO fast forward through 4 years of insanity, lots of glitter, lots of stupid decisions, some good ones, lots of people, some false friendships,a couple empty relationships, and a lot of self exploration.
Here I am, after living in the Bahamas, Portland, and Miami...I am back in Oregon...back in my hometown where I spent my entire childhood, back in the house I was raised in, and back living with my parents for the first time in almost 9 years.
I know what some of you are thinking- "What a damn loser."
It's what I would of thought a few months ago.
But you are wrong (and I say that in a loving way)
Since moving back to my parents house, back into the middle of nowhere deep country Oregon wilderness...I have finally...FINALLY...started to allow myself the time to heal.
Even more amazing, for the first time since February 2009, I have opened myself up to having God back in my life. Granted he was there all along, but I wasn't on speaking terms with him.
How did this happen you ask? What suddenly changed?
I met a man who restored my faith.
A man in my eyes, who is made up of pure sunshine.
A man who reminded me of all the good things in life, of the beauty, of the struggle, of the connections, and of the journey. Listening to him talk about his relationship with God in the most down to earth and realistic way, his thoughts rekindled a fire within me that had long gone out, and maybe wasn't even really well lit in the first place. His actions more so than his words filled me with hope, and watching him float around life, through his own struggles and triumphs and self realizations showed me that there was a God. I saw God in him, when I wasn't even really looking. I'm not saying I looked at HIM as God, but within him I saw for the first time in years, God. And through hours of simply talking, I was reminded of all the good that is in this world, and how it was all possible BECAUSE of God. This man was put in my life for a reason, and I feel so blessed. I hope this person realizes one day how they saved me, and how they renewed my faith in God, and the world.
So where I am now? Literally, I am still in the middle of nowhere Oregon, but I am head over heels in love with that fact. I have faith in the simple things, in the beauty that surrounds me on a daily basis. I have faith in kindness and selflessness. I have faith that whatever happens, happens for a reason.
Waking up to a dense Pacific Northwest forest every morning is so good for my soul. I am repairing relationships that I want to salvage, building new ones, and feeling inspired and awakened. This doesn't mean I still don't have extremely hard days where I just curl into a ball and cry and feel that lonely pain again, because I do. Those days aren't everyday for me anymore, and that is a miracle.
I still have a very long way to go, hell, I may never finish walking on this path...but that is ok. I can deal with that, because I have the people I need around me. I have the towering trees, the majestic oceans, I have my family, the best friends, a song in my heart at all times...and a renewed relationship with God.
I don't have any bells and whistles, I don't have any neon or bright blinking lights. What I have in my life is very simple these days, and very sacred to me. It isn't preachy, it isn't organized in any way. It is held very close to me.
At this point in my life, I can say I have experienced a miracle. That miracle is me surviving my own self, finding faith again, and that miracle are those few people in my life who love me and inspire me to continue living everyday.
I love you.
Somehow I survived another year of my life, which brought a whole new batch of problems that included "dealing with being a victim of suicide a year later". It seems silly and I completely realize to some people you'd think that at some point in your life you would just "get over it." like there is switch that eventually flips and suddenly you can resume a normal life again. That's not the case at all. Like I've said in a past posting, you never ever lose that feeling...it is with you forever, everywhere you go, in everything you do. You cannot just push it to the side or else it flares up and gets worse and explodes when you least expect it to. You need to deal with that pain on a daily basis, acknowledge it, and continue to adapt with it and learn to cope with it so you can come off as having a "normal life", and so you can continue to heal and eventually even start to thrive a little.
So here I am a year after Chris died, and I am given an opportunity to move to the Bahamas to work for the Disney Cruise Line as a stingray trainer/zoological manager. To this day, I still cannot figure out if that offer and life change was a blessing, or just pushed all the healing I really needed to do, back by 9 months. Either way, it happened and is a part of my life, and probably did save me in a way.
Living a life without God is easy. You feel like suddenly no rules apply to you, you have complete freedom, you don't have this imaginary being looking over you and judging you. It's very easy to get caught up in that and become slightly addicted to it. "I don't answer to nobody, I am the master of my own universe and destiny!" It sounds great, but the thing is, when you do hit another rough patch, you will never feel more alone. The 4 years where I pushed God completely out of my life were fun (very shallow and lonely, but fun). I can admit that. I had a lot of insane adventures, a lot of dirty crazy fun, and expressed myself a lot and really learned more about who I was and my limits. I crashed and burned a lot, and made many mistakes.
I promise this all has a happy ending...or..not really an ending as I am not dead, but it get's better :)
SO fast forward through 4 years of insanity, lots of glitter, lots of stupid decisions, some good ones, lots of people, some false friendships,a couple empty relationships, and a lot of self exploration.
Here I am, after living in the Bahamas, Portland, and Miami...I am back in Oregon...back in my hometown where I spent my entire childhood, back in the house I was raised in, and back living with my parents for the first time in almost 9 years.
I know what some of you are thinking- "What a damn loser."
It's what I would of thought a few months ago.
But you are wrong (and I say that in a loving way)
Since moving back to my parents house, back into the middle of nowhere deep country Oregon wilderness...I have finally...FINALLY...started to allow myself the time to heal.
Even more amazing, for the first time since February 2009, I have opened myself up to having God back in my life. Granted he was there all along, but I wasn't on speaking terms with him.
How did this happen you ask? What suddenly changed?
I met a man who restored my faith.
A man in my eyes, who is made up of pure sunshine.
A man who reminded me of all the good things in life, of the beauty, of the struggle, of the connections, and of the journey. Listening to him talk about his relationship with God in the most down to earth and realistic way, his thoughts rekindled a fire within me that had long gone out, and maybe wasn't even really well lit in the first place. His actions more so than his words filled me with hope, and watching him float around life, through his own struggles and triumphs and self realizations showed me that there was a God. I saw God in him, when I wasn't even really looking. I'm not saying I looked at HIM as God, but within him I saw for the first time in years, God. And through hours of simply talking, I was reminded of all the good that is in this world, and how it was all possible BECAUSE of God. This man was put in my life for a reason, and I feel so blessed. I hope this person realizes one day how they saved me, and how they renewed my faith in God, and the world.
So where I am now? Literally, I am still in the middle of nowhere Oregon, but I am head over heels in love with that fact. I have faith in the simple things, in the beauty that surrounds me on a daily basis. I have faith in kindness and selflessness. I have faith that whatever happens, happens for a reason.
Waking up to a dense Pacific Northwest forest every morning is so good for my soul. I am repairing relationships that I want to salvage, building new ones, and feeling inspired and awakened. This doesn't mean I still don't have extremely hard days where I just curl into a ball and cry and feel that lonely pain again, because I do. Those days aren't everyday for me anymore, and that is a miracle.
I still have a very long way to go, hell, I may never finish walking on this path...but that is ok. I can deal with that, because I have the people I need around me. I have the towering trees, the majestic oceans, I have my family, the best friends, a song in my heart at all times...and a renewed relationship with God.
I don't have any bells and whistles, I don't have any neon or bright blinking lights. What I have in my life is very simple these days, and very sacred to me. It isn't preachy, it isn't organized in any way. It is held very close to me.
At this point in my life, I can say I have experienced a miracle. That miracle is me surviving my own self, finding faith again, and that miracle are those few people in my life who love me and inspire me to continue living everyday.
I love you.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Your Own Personal Jesus PART 1
I woke up extra early this morning to take my mom into town so she could get her car from the mechanics before she headed into work. Yesterday I really wasn't excited about waking up at 5:45am, but within 10 minutes of waking up, I was ready to start the day.
As most of you know, I have worked in the marine biology field since I was 11 years old, which meant I've been waking up typically between 5:30-6am most of my life...exept the past 6 months. Being unemployed I have started to finally learn and appreciate the art of "sleeping in". Granted I consider sleeping in to be about 7 or 8am...I will never be one of those people that somehow pass out till noon.
Waking up so early this morning was super refreshing, and it really started my day out on a good path, a groggy squinty eyed path, but great nonetheless!
Driving back home this morning I took the long way home, which consists of primarily really long dusty gravel roads in the middle of nowhere. I had all the windows in my car open and the temperature outside was a perfect 62 degrees (At 7:30am that is crazy for Oregon this time of year!) I had good tunes playing, my hair was whipping around, my hand out the window. It was bliss. The smell of the air outside in the country was so sweet and ripe smelling. I could of drove that drive for hours. I love when the unexpected happens like that...where everything lines up perfectly and you cannot help but just revel in the beauty that is around you and how amazing your life really is.
Which brings me ultimately to the topic of this post...my relationship with God and with religion.
For those that know me, you know I have a very personal relationship with God...to the point where I barely talk about it. To those that SUPER know me, you know that I do occasionally talk about God and religion, and my desire to have more of a relationship with God in my life.
I guess I should fill you in on my past first...this will all come together in the end I swear.
I was raised Catholic. Baptised when I was an infant, received communion in a puffy white dress when I was little, was confirmed when I was a teenager, went to Sunday school weekly, went to mass a minimum of one time a week, and practiced all the traditions of being a Catholic including things like confession and lent.
When I was younger I felt like the church was my second home (that smelled like incense and old people), but I never felt like I truly belonged in it. Even at a young age I felt really awkward being there, and I really wanted to fit in, but something just wasn't lining up. I knew that being with my family at church meant the world to my parents though, and plus I was like...9, so I couldn't drive or really choose to not participate. It wasn't that I didnt have a relationship with God or that I thought it was a joke at a young age or something..I just felt weird about it. I wanted to be a part of it all SO bad though.
Fast forward to when I was in high school and I started going to this non denominational youth group in my small town called The Hub. This was really my first introduction to a youth group type setting where we didn't have to have certain facts memorized, and where you weren't the best kid in the group because you could recite Biblical facts or certain prayers from memory (Who had time for that when you could memorize latin names of super cool aquatic animals?!..not young Jamie.)
I was introduced to this youth group through a high school friend of mine, and I instantly felt accepted at this place of worship. It wasn't really a service or a mass or anything of the sort, just a weekly gathering of young people to sing praise songs and to confide in each other if needed. I loved it, and there were so many instances where we would all be singing and I would just crumple back into my seat and cry. I think those instances were the first moments where I actually FELT God as a presence in my life, not God as just words or rules.
At that point in my life, the early high school years, I was "on fire" for Jesus. I still have countless Christian rock cd's stuffed away in my closet and I think even a few really old school Relient K t-shirts somewhere. I had the fire in my heart and it wasn't going anywhere.
While going to the Hub, I'm not 100% sure my parents were excited about the idea of it. Being raised Catholic pretty much means you ARE Catholic...you don't to just pick and chose parts of denominations that work for you...or at least I was under that impression. If you are Catholic, you are just Catholic. No loud singing, no drums, and not many young people that I wanted to really connect with. And for a younger person, the Catholic religion as I grew up, just became more and more rules to me.
Fast forward to me graduation high school in 2004 (holy crap almost 10 years ago?? shut up.)
I was just turning 18 and really starting to figure out my life as an individual. It was really hard though because of wanting to make my parents happy, yet staying true to myself. This is actually a theme that I struggle with on a daily basis to this day.
At this point I was completely immersed in scuba diving and marine biology and volunteering every spare hour I had at the Oregon Coast Aquarium..this went on for many years. All throughout college, my main focus and priority was to work with aquatic animals. I moved out of my parents house what felt like right away and started to figure out life independently. I had my first legit boyfriend when I was 20, I had a circle of classmates I hung out with, and none of them were religious at all. I hadn't given up on God at all, I still had a personal relationship with him, but I no longer went to mass every Sunday. In fact, this was the point in my life where I really started to look at my religion, and decided ultimately that I no longer wanted to be a part of the Catholic religion. I know to this day, my parents are still very affected by this decision and with every last breath of theirs want me to go back to the Catholic church. In my world, this is honestly probably never going to happen. I love the tradition of the Catholic church, I love the community of it, and the people are very very kind...but....
There are many things I don't agree with when it comes to the Catholic faith. And THAT IS OK! I used to guilt myself constantly for feeling these feelings and thinking these thoughts, but no longer. I am still a fantastic person with a relationship with God that I keep very close to myself.
For those wondering, the primary issues I had with the Catholic religion (and these are my opinions and feelings. these things do not make me any less or more of a person) was first and foremost the sacrament of confession. WHY do I have to go to another mortal human being, to be able to talk to God and confess my wrongs and find guidance? This man is no different than I am besides the fact that through traditional elements, he is now considered a priest. Why do I have to channel through him in order to talk to God? God is in my heart, God is all around, and in my mind he is always there when you need to pray or call on him for help in your time of need. I truly believe I shouldn't have to talk to a man that I really don't know, tell him all my problems, just so he can relay the message to God in my behalf. Rather, I can sit in the middle of a forest, or lay in my bed, and pray and talk to God for hours on end. No rules, no middle men.
There are many other reasons that I don't particularly want to get into because I DO infact want to respect my parents and my other family members when it comes to their faith in the Catholic church.
Ok where was I...ok now fast forward to when I was 23, out of college, broken up with my first boyfriend because he was cheating on me for years..awesome. Whatever. I had lived in Orlando Florida for 9 months and worked for Walt Disney World at their aquarium, and now am living up in NYC working at the New York Aquarium. At this point, I haven't been to mass in years besides the main holidays where I go just to be a part of my family and support them. My faith in God is still present, but is no where near as strong as it once was. Life has gotten in the way at this point, and the hustle and bustle of living in a city like New York City pretty much consumed me. February 19th 2009 passed when my boyfriend committed suicide, and that is officially when my relationship with God completely ended.
In my mind, oh man, you cannot imagine the anger and hate I had towards God. I would curse him...I would yell at my ceiling in my apartment to him, screaming at him "why did you do this?". In my mind at that point, if God was who everyone makes him out to be, he wouldn't of allowed Chris to commit suicide. God took the most important thing away from me, so suddenly and drastically. I despised him for it. I completely pushed God out of my life, I didn't want his help or his guidance. I wanted him gone. And so for years, I lived a completely Godless existence And I really thought I had it all figured out. I was the master of my own universe, not some imaginary man on some imaginary cloud with an imaginary beard.
----continue to Part 2
As most of you know, I have worked in the marine biology field since I was 11 years old, which meant I've been waking up typically between 5:30-6am most of my life...exept the past 6 months. Being unemployed I have started to finally learn and appreciate the art of "sleeping in". Granted I consider sleeping in to be about 7 or 8am...I will never be one of those people that somehow pass out till noon.
Waking up so early this morning was super refreshing, and it really started my day out on a good path, a groggy squinty eyed path, but great nonetheless!
Driving back home this morning I took the long way home, which consists of primarily really long dusty gravel roads in the middle of nowhere. I had all the windows in my car open and the temperature outside was a perfect 62 degrees (At 7:30am that is crazy for Oregon this time of year!) I had good tunes playing, my hair was whipping around, my hand out the window. It was bliss. The smell of the air outside in the country was so sweet and ripe smelling. I could of drove that drive for hours. I love when the unexpected happens like that...where everything lines up perfectly and you cannot help but just revel in the beauty that is around you and how amazing your life really is.
Which brings me ultimately to the topic of this post...my relationship with God and with religion.
For those that know me, you know I have a very personal relationship with God...to the point where I barely talk about it. To those that SUPER know me, you know that I do occasionally talk about God and religion, and my desire to have more of a relationship with God in my life.
I guess I should fill you in on my past first...this will all come together in the end I swear.
I was raised Catholic. Baptised when I was an infant, received communion in a puffy white dress when I was little, was confirmed when I was a teenager, went to Sunday school weekly, went to mass a minimum of one time a week, and practiced all the traditions of being a Catholic including things like confession and lent.
When I was younger I felt like the church was my second home (that smelled like incense and old people), but I never felt like I truly belonged in it. Even at a young age I felt really awkward being there, and I really wanted to fit in, but something just wasn't lining up. I knew that being with my family at church meant the world to my parents though, and plus I was like...9, so I couldn't drive or really choose to not participate. It wasn't that I didnt have a relationship with God or that I thought it was a joke at a young age or something..I just felt weird about it. I wanted to be a part of it all SO bad though.
Fast forward to when I was in high school and I started going to this non denominational youth group in my small town called The Hub. This was really my first introduction to a youth group type setting where we didn't have to have certain facts memorized, and where you weren't the best kid in the group because you could recite Biblical facts or certain prayers from memory (Who had time for that when you could memorize latin names of super cool aquatic animals?!..not young Jamie.)
I was introduced to this youth group through a high school friend of mine, and I instantly felt accepted at this place of worship. It wasn't really a service or a mass or anything of the sort, just a weekly gathering of young people to sing praise songs and to confide in each other if needed. I loved it, and there were so many instances where we would all be singing and I would just crumple back into my seat and cry. I think those instances were the first moments where I actually FELT God as a presence in my life, not God as just words or rules.
At that point in my life, the early high school years, I was "on fire" for Jesus. I still have countless Christian rock cd's stuffed away in my closet and I think even a few really old school Relient K t-shirts somewhere. I had the fire in my heart and it wasn't going anywhere.
While going to the Hub, I'm not 100% sure my parents were excited about the idea of it. Being raised Catholic pretty much means you ARE Catholic...you don't to just pick and chose parts of denominations that work for you...or at least I was under that impression. If you are Catholic, you are just Catholic. No loud singing, no drums, and not many young people that I wanted to really connect with. And for a younger person, the Catholic religion as I grew up, just became more and more rules to me.
Fast forward to me graduation high school in 2004 (holy crap almost 10 years ago?? shut up.)
I was just turning 18 and really starting to figure out my life as an individual. It was really hard though because of wanting to make my parents happy, yet staying true to myself. This is actually a theme that I struggle with on a daily basis to this day.
At this point I was completely immersed in scuba diving and marine biology and volunteering every spare hour I had at the Oregon Coast Aquarium..this went on for many years. All throughout college, my main focus and priority was to work with aquatic animals. I moved out of my parents house what felt like right away and started to figure out life independently. I had my first legit boyfriend when I was 20, I had a circle of classmates I hung out with, and none of them were religious at all. I hadn't given up on God at all, I still had a personal relationship with him, but I no longer went to mass every Sunday. In fact, this was the point in my life where I really started to look at my religion, and decided ultimately that I no longer wanted to be a part of the Catholic religion. I know to this day, my parents are still very affected by this decision and with every last breath of theirs want me to go back to the Catholic church. In my world, this is honestly probably never going to happen. I love the tradition of the Catholic church, I love the community of it, and the people are very very kind...but....
There are many things I don't agree with when it comes to the Catholic faith. And THAT IS OK! I used to guilt myself constantly for feeling these feelings and thinking these thoughts, but no longer. I am still a fantastic person with a relationship with God that I keep very close to myself.
For those wondering, the primary issues I had with the Catholic religion (and these are my opinions and feelings. these things do not make me any less or more of a person) was first and foremost the sacrament of confession. WHY do I have to go to another mortal human being, to be able to talk to God and confess my wrongs and find guidance? This man is no different than I am besides the fact that through traditional elements, he is now considered a priest. Why do I have to channel through him in order to talk to God? God is in my heart, God is all around, and in my mind he is always there when you need to pray or call on him for help in your time of need. I truly believe I shouldn't have to talk to a man that I really don't know, tell him all my problems, just so he can relay the message to God in my behalf. Rather, I can sit in the middle of a forest, or lay in my bed, and pray and talk to God for hours on end. No rules, no middle men.
There are many other reasons that I don't particularly want to get into because I DO infact want to respect my parents and my other family members when it comes to their faith in the Catholic church.
Ok where was I...ok now fast forward to when I was 23, out of college, broken up with my first boyfriend because he was cheating on me for years..awesome. Whatever. I had lived in Orlando Florida for 9 months and worked for Walt Disney World at their aquarium, and now am living up in NYC working at the New York Aquarium. At this point, I haven't been to mass in years besides the main holidays where I go just to be a part of my family and support them. My faith in God is still present, but is no where near as strong as it once was. Life has gotten in the way at this point, and the hustle and bustle of living in a city like New York City pretty much consumed me. February 19th 2009 passed when my boyfriend committed suicide, and that is officially when my relationship with God completely ended.
In my mind, oh man, you cannot imagine the anger and hate I had towards God. I would curse him...I would yell at my ceiling in my apartment to him, screaming at him "why did you do this?". In my mind at that point, if God was who everyone makes him out to be, he wouldn't of allowed Chris to commit suicide. God took the most important thing away from me, so suddenly and drastically. I despised him for it. I completely pushed God out of my life, I didn't want his help or his guidance. I wanted him gone. And so for years, I lived a completely Godless existence And I really thought I had it all figured out. I was the master of my own universe, not some imaginary man on some imaginary cloud with an imaginary beard.
----continue to Part 2
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Where It All Ended, and Ultimately Began...
I feel like a lot of people know of my story...but don't know the details and the facts of what happened to me in my life back in 2009.
I have previously deleted all my entries from this old dusty blog that I am trying to rediscover as a way of free at home self medicating therapy for myself. My past entries were so juvenile and not realistic at all. It's time for me to get things off my chest whenever I want to, and I feel like this will be an excellent medium to do so. Read if you want, if you are tired of me, I won't hold it against you. I'm primarly doing this for me, and hopefully for anyone else who just needs someone to connect to.
I love you. Whoever you are reading this.
My life ended on February 19th 2009 in a small studio apartment in New York City, and yet I am still here today to write this, in 2013.
I was getting ready for work, it was about 5:30am or so in the morning, and my cell phone started ringing.
The days leading up to February 19th were a bit stressful and worrisome. I was dating a magnificent man named Chris, and he was my world, as I was his. We were going to get married. We had already planned it all. We were going to move back to Oregon. The field biologist and the marine biologist. Live simply and just fill our home with love.
Heavenly.
We had a long distance relationship, even though we lived in the same state, he lived in upstate and I was in Brooklyn. The East Coast tends to melt together like that. Seemingly short distances on a map end up taking hours and hours to navigate through.
Chris and I had a pact- to talk to each other every single day. To some people that may seem excessive and ridiculous. For our relationship it was not only perfect, but needed. A daily "check up" on each other, to let the other one know that even through the distance, we were still there for one another. It's beautiful how a phone can make hundreds of miles feel like a few inches. Communication is key to any kind of relationship, and our communication was open, selfless, non judgemental, and wonderful.
February 19th 2009 at 5:30am, I was worried upon waking up, because the night before I hadn't been able to get a hold of Chris on the phone or through email. The first day we had "missed" in 4+ months. I knew he was really busy with school though and I chalked it up to either studying or going out with friends and just falling asleep. Or so I hoped and prayed.
Without going into too much detail since afterall, it is his personal life, and this isn't his blog, but mine...Chris had a really rough past, and like all of us, sometimes the daily grind just wears on you and a past that is never resolved properly, creeps up on you often and drags you down a bit. Chris was going to therapy (after I begged him to for months) and a few days prior when we were talking on the phone, he had an especially difficult therapy session that caused a major upwelling of emotions and memories that were previously suppressed. He was crying on the phone, which, for a man that is 6'5" with a very masculine build, with a laugh that could cure sickness, this was troublesome. We talked for hours, and eventually he calmed down and we said our "talk to you tomorrow's" and "i love you's", and life continued on.
February 19th 2009 at 5:30am, my phone rang. I grabbed it quickly trying to quiet the ring since my friend who shared the tiny studio apartment with me was sleeping. I checked the caller ID and it read "My Pumpkin" on the screen. An overwhelming sense of calm swept over me, THERE he was, phew, he's ok, maybe he's just stumbling back home after a long night.
I answered the phone and rather than hearing the love of my life's big warm voice, I was met with a woman's voice.
My stomach sank.
Who is this, and why is she using Chris's phone to call me?
I said hello again.
And what this woman said to me, in three small words, ended my life as I will ever know it.
"Chris is dead."
Blackness, no breath, screaming, falling, hitting the hard wooden floor, melting, dizzy, still can't breathe, why can't I breathe, why can't I see anything?
"We found him this morning, he committed suicide in his apartment."
Darker than black, numb, dizzy, nauseous, screaming, no blood in my body, shaking, still no breath.
4 years have passed, and I still can't think about those few moments after I found out. Typing it alone is extremely difficult, and my makeup is now all over my face. You never forget the feeling of having the life completely pulled out of your body in a split second. You carry it with you for the rest of your life. It never gets easier, you just learn to adapt and cope.
I'm going to take a break from writing right now, talking about this and going through the motions of this moment all over again are extremely painful for me. I'll pick back up on this post at another time. I'm sorry.
One last thing though...days later when I started to come out of my shock (I really don't remember anything but little snap shots in my mind, for about 3 days after February 19th) I found a text message on my phone that I realized I had never opened, from Chris...the night he committed suicide. After eventually lining up the timeline of his suicide with friends and family, it was put together that this was the last thing he had ever said to anyone.
"My beautiful Jamie, thank you for loving me more than I ever thought possible. I will always be yours. I will love you today, tomorrow, and every day after that."
I have previously deleted all my entries from this old dusty blog that I am trying to rediscover as a way of free at home self medicating therapy for myself. My past entries were so juvenile and not realistic at all. It's time for me to get things off my chest whenever I want to, and I feel like this will be an excellent medium to do so. Read if you want, if you are tired of me, I won't hold it against you. I'm primarly doing this for me, and hopefully for anyone else who just needs someone to connect to.
I love you. Whoever you are reading this.
My life ended on February 19th 2009 in a small studio apartment in New York City, and yet I am still here today to write this, in 2013.
I was getting ready for work, it was about 5:30am or so in the morning, and my cell phone started ringing.
The days leading up to February 19th were a bit stressful and worrisome. I was dating a magnificent man named Chris, and he was my world, as I was his. We were going to get married. We had already planned it all. We were going to move back to Oregon. The field biologist and the marine biologist. Live simply and just fill our home with love.
Heavenly.
We had a long distance relationship, even though we lived in the same state, he lived in upstate and I was in Brooklyn. The East Coast tends to melt together like that. Seemingly short distances on a map end up taking hours and hours to navigate through.
Chris and I had a pact- to talk to each other every single day. To some people that may seem excessive and ridiculous. For our relationship it was not only perfect, but needed. A daily "check up" on each other, to let the other one know that even through the distance, we were still there for one another. It's beautiful how a phone can make hundreds of miles feel like a few inches. Communication is key to any kind of relationship, and our communication was open, selfless, non judgemental, and wonderful.
February 19th 2009 at 5:30am, I was worried upon waking up, because the night before I hadn't been able to get a hold of Chris on the phone or through email. The first day we had "missed" in 4+ months. I knew he was really busy with school though and I chalked it up to either studying or going out with friends and just falling asleep. Or so I hoped and prayed.
Without going into too much detail since afterall, it is his personal life, and this isn't his blog, but mine...Chris had a really rough past, and like all of us, sometimes the daily grind just wears on you and a past that is never resolved properly, creeps up on you often and drags you down a bit. Chris was going to therapy (after I begged him to for months) and a few days prior when we were talking on the phone, he had an especially difficult therapy session that caused a major upwelling of emotions and memories that were previously suppressed. He was crying on the phone, which, for a man that is 6'5" with a very masculine build, with a laugh that could cure sickness, this was troublesome. We talked for hours, and eventually he calmed down and we said our "talk to you tomorrow's" and "i love you's", and life continued on.
February 19th 2009 at 5:30am, my phone rang. I grabbed it quickly trying to quiet the ring since my friend who shared the tiny studio apartment with me was sleeping. I checked the caller ID and it read "My Pumpkin" on the screen. An overwhelming sense of calm swept over me, THERE he was, phew, he's ok, maybe he's just stumbling back home after a long night.
I answered the phone and rather than hearing the love of my life's big warm voice, I was met with a woman's voice.
My stomach sank.
Who is this, and why is she using Chris's phone to call me?
I said hello again.
And what this woman said to me, in three small words, ended my life as I will ever know it.
"Chris is dead."
Blackness, no breath, screaming, falling, hitting the hard wooden floor, melting, dizzy, still can't breathe, why can't I breathe, why can't I see anything?
"We found him this morning, he committed suicide in his apartment."
Darker than black, numb, dizzy, nauseous, screaming, no blood in my body, shaking, still no breath.
4 years have passed, and I still can't think about those few moments after I found out. Typing it alone is extremely difficult, and my makeup is now all over my face. You never forget the feeling of having the life completely pulled out of your body in a split second. You carry it with you for the rest of your life. It never gets easier, you just learn to adapt and cope.
I'm going to take a break from writing right now, talking about this and going through the motions of this moment all over again are extremely painful for me. I'll pick back up on this post at another time. I'm sorry.
One last thing though...days later when I started to come out of my shock (I really don't remember anything but little snap shots in my mind, for about 3 days after February 19th) I found a text message on my phone that I realized I had never opened, from Chris...the night he committed suicide. After eventually lining up the timeline of his suicide with friends and family, it was put together that this was the last thing he had ever said to anyone.
"My beautiful Jamie, thank you for loving me more than I ever thought possible. I will always be yours. I will love you today, tomorrow, and every day after that."
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