All I ask for, and all I have ever wanted, are friends who support me
and stand beside me, even if they don't always agree with me. And, of
course, a little respect. So, here are some of the things that I have
noticed I look for in a truly trusted friend:
A true friend recognizes and accepts that I can have more than one true friend.
A true friend supports and stands beside me, even when they don't agree with me.
A true friend believes in me, and encourages me to be the best I can be, and better.
A true friend knows that just because I grow and change does not mean that I am going to outgrow the friendship.
A
true friend accepts that I cannot and will not, and honestly do not
want to, spend every minute with them. Or even every day. Sometimes
every week. They recognize that I am not a people person, and while I
love their company, I need a great deal of me time.
A true friend accepts me as I am and does not try to change me.
And, since I put what a friend is to me, allow me to do the flip side. Allow me to give a few "rules"... things which, if not followed, will quickly make me stop trusting you as a friend:
1) You do NOT tell me who to trust. I am perfectly capable of making these decisions by myself, and if I make a mistake it is mine to make.
2) You do NOT criticize or belittle a friend of mine in an attempt to get me to dislike this friend. And you definitely do NOT do this belittling to my kids to get THEM to also dislike the person.
3) You do NOT tell me I am not capable of doing something, or that I should not be doing something (unless of course I am doing something that will actually physically harm me). I am an adult and again, perfectly capable of making my own decisions.
4) You do NOT insult my belief in God, or my desire to serve Him, or the ways in which I choose to serve Him. I have never told any of my friends/family what to believe (or how to serve), and I deserve the same respect.
5) You do NOT try to manipulate me. Anything that comes across as "if you really loved me you'd do this" is going to make me immediately do the complete opposite of what you want.
Thank you, and good night.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Dear Matthew
I know I'm a couple days early, but Happy Birthday. I can't believe you'd be turning 30 in just a couple days. I still can't believe you're not here to turn 30.
It's been almost 6 years since you left; although for me, it's been so much longer. I never got a chance to know the teenage you, or the adult you. To me, you were (and are) still that little 7 year old boy still wanting me to sing him to sleep. You're still that smiling, front-tooth missing boy who could always make me laugh. You're still 7 years old, catching frogs and turtles for pets. You're still that silly little guy wanting to dress up in my dresses, and put on my makeup. You're still that excited little man, running out to the living room Christmas Eve after Santa came, or on your birthday, or Easter morning. You're still the patient boy who put up with me reading my Astronomy book, or English Comp books, to put you to sleep because I had to catch up on my homework. You're still the little goon who would hide in my pile of teddy bears. You're still the little lover, always willing to give me a huge hug to brighten my day.
I wish I could blame our parents for those lost years, but I know I should have tried harder. I wanted to. I hope you were able to understand that. I hope you were able to know that I truly loved you, and love you still.
There's a hole in my heart that can never be truly filled... not with anything other than memories. But, they are good memories. And they help me get through times like this, when I'm lost and feeling alone, and missing you and your brother. And, the knowledge that you finally found the peace we were (are) lacking helps, too.
I'd write more - and most likely will in the days to come. But for now, I need to stop writing as it's getting difficult to see the screen.
I love you. And I miss you.
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Battle
It all started with a simple tattoo suggestion. Well, ok,
the story really didn’t start there; nor was the tattoo suggestion all that
simple. But the story can’t be told, and without the story the tattoo
suggestion does indeed appear quite simple.
As I wandered off in search of supplies, tears found an escape.
My heart was suddenly overwhelmed with fear and guilt, hope and love,
anticipation and regret, joy and peace. The night continued in cautiously
friendly hopeful bliss; and yet the chaos within my mind continued, unspoken
and unnoticed.
As the evening came to a close, and I sat within the
darkness, it became obvious the war had suddenly turned one sided; the hope and
love and joy and peace slipped silently into oblivion. The battle was over. The
destruction was suddenly clear and unavoidable. The reality behind that one
little tattoo was apparent.
The story was complete, and yet was only a fragment.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Beloved
I can still hear that voice - that ever wise voice - insisting I am beloved
I see the words flash before my eyes
And yet they do not penetrate
Especially now.
This ache grows stronger - too strong for me to fight
I cannot eat, or sleep, or write
I cannot dream, or cry
I cannot believe
Beloved
It is such a lie
And yet I have no right to proclaim this
I have no right to express this pain
I have no right to pity
I try to hide it - those wonderful masks I once wore dug out again
But I should not be wearing those
I should not be allowed even a false smile
I should not be
My suffering grows - suffering I should feel but not show
I am so weak now I can barely stand
And I shouldn't stand
I should be kicked down
My emptiness grows - anything once believed to be beloved dissipating
I am alone
By my own doing, I have nothing left
I deserve nothing more
I desperately want to cry out - plead for mercy, for anything
But my voice must remain silenced
and so in silence I pray
For beloved death
I see the words flash before my eyes
And yet they do not penetrate
Especially now.
This ache grows stronger - too strong for me to fight
I cannot eat, or sleep, or write
I cannot dream, or cry
I cannot believe
Beloved
It is such a lie
And yet I have no right to proclaim this
I have no right to express this pain
I have no right to pity
I try to hide it - those wonderful masks I once wore dug out again
But I should not be wearing those
I should not be allowed even a false smile
I should not be
My suffering grows - suffering I should feel but not show
I am so weak now I can barely stand
And I shouldn't stand
I should be kicked down
My emptiness grows - anything once believed to be beloved dissipating
I am alone
By my own doing, I have nothing left
I deserve nothing more
I desperately want to cry out - plead for mercy, for anything
But my voice must remain silenced
and so in silence I pray
For beloved death
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Regret
I don't regret holding your hand
I regret letting go of a friendship
I don't regret the feel of your lips
I regret no longer feeling your comforting embrace
I don't regret the spiritual intimacy
I regret the rift that's grown
I don't regret trusting you
I regret the brokenness
I don't regret caring
I regret the hurt
I regret letting go of a friendship
I don't regret the feel of your lips
I regret no longer feeling your comforting embrace
I don't regret the spiritual intimacy
I regret the rift that's grown
I don't regret trusting you
I regret the brokenness
I don't regret caring
I regret the hurt
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Sanity/Insanity
Sitting next to sanity
in the light of night,
it maneuvers closer, brushing against me.
The warmth is oddly comforting
as it spreads.
The strange comfort frightens me
and I slink away
only to find moments later
it brushing against me yet again.
Did I move towards it
unknowingly?
Or did it drift in
momentarily unnoticed
but not unwelcome?
I find myself shifting
moving closer, needing the warmth
again;
Desiring the sanity,
Desiring all the chaos it promises.
As if sensing my withering hestitation
the sanity pulls away
playing games
Tempting, Teasing, Denying.
A tug o' war raging
between peace and turmoil
order and chaos
reality and dreams.
A war in which even should
Sanity win, the prize is
Insanity.
in the light of night,
it maneuvers closer, brushing against me.
The warmth is oddly comforting
as it spreads.
The strange comfort frightens me
and I slink away
only to find moments later
it brushing against me yet again.
Did I move towards it
unknowingly?
Or did it drift in
momentarily unnoticed
but not unwelcome?
I find myself shifting
moving closer, needing the warmth
again;
Desiring the sanity,
Desiring all the chaos it promises.
As if sensing my withering hestitation
the sanity pulls away
playing games
Tempting, Teasing, Denying.
A tug o' war raging
between peace and turmoil
order and chaos
reality and dreams.
A war in which even should
Sanity win, the prize is
Insanity.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Depression Can't be Cured with a Hug
Of all the illnesses we see and experience, depression is
one of the most misunderstood. At least, this has been my experience.
Imagine you’ve just been diagnosed with cancer, or diabetes.
A friend comes up to you and says “Oh, there’s no reason for you to have cancer
– you have me to talk to and lean on.” Or a family member says “There’s no
reason for you to have diabetes – I love you.”
I’ve actually been told these things before in regards to my
depression, and have heard these things said to other people as well. And, when
the depression doesn’t go away, the friend will get upset with me (or whoever
they said it to), or will feel like they’re just not a good enough friend.
The Truth About Depression
Depression is usually like many physical diseases, such as
cancer or diabetes. You wouldn’t expect your friendship to cure someone’s
cancer. You wouldn’t expect having someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on
to cure diabetes. It’s the same with many types of depression.
Don’t get me wrong – there are some depressions (or extreme
sorrow/grief periods) in which having someone to talk to can “cure” it.
Depressions which are caused by a traumatic experience (divorce, death of a
loved one, rape/abuse) can sometimes be short-lived, and healed with counseling
and the support of friends and loved ones. But there are some which are
genetically, physically based and are just not that simple.
Support – Not Cure
I’m definitely not saying to not be a friend. I’m not saying
don’t be there for someone who’s depressed. You wouldn’t abandon a friend who
has been diagnosed with cancer – you’d offer your shoulder to cry on, or your
ear to listen to them express their anger, fears, and sorrow. But you’d never
expect these things to cure them – only to perhaps comfort them a little bit.
This is the same for depression. Be there if the person wants or needs a
friend, but understand that it is for the purpose of offering hopefully some
temporary comfort, and that it will not cure the depression.
You’re not a bad friend if you can’t cure their depression.
And the other person doesn’t distrust you or dislike you when your friendship
isn’t enough to cure their depression. It is simply a fact that friendship
cannot cure it. Depression is a serious medical condition that needs more than
just a hug.
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