Musing no. 25: Hello, Wordsmith.

Words. I’ve always fallen for those so good with words. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I love to talk so much, that when someone else speaks I prefer to listen. But that has never benefited me, to be honest.

I dislike when people say things they don’t mean. They say things you want to hear, claim to be honest, then if they fall through–and you did expect them to–they say you have no faith. Excuse me. If I listened in the first place, then I’d have lost my soul already.

We sometimes forget how our words affect others; the way we say things and what our words mean can be totally different. Some may claim to be pleased doing this, some may lie about it. Whatever. You’re in charge of what you do and say to others at this point.

 

There will always be disappointment. You’re literally surrounded by liars. Family, friends, lovers, what-have-you… They all lie to you regularly. Hell, you even lie to yourself regularly. No, Janet, those pants do NOT accentuate your bum.

But my point is, don’t lie to yourselves. When you lie–self-righteousness like “I’m not the same person I was… I only deserve the best… I have to become better for you” type of crap–you don’t like to the other person. You lie to yourself. No, you don’t deserve the best, you can barely handle a real relationship. No, you are not the same person, but that same person makes you who you are, and you can’t really escape it. No, you don’t have to become better for me, you need to become better for someone better than me, because in your eyes I was not enough and I was flawed. THERE. Isn’t being honest SOOO much easier? Jeez.

 

I can not wait until I find someone I can speak to with any thought–no matter how shocking or appalling, how wondrous and amazing, how insane and inane, how beautiful and awesome. Time will come. I shall wait. I shall speak, and I shall be honest.

 

And. So. Should. You.

Musing no. 15: That deep Low

Let me bring us back to 2005.

Hello, Lo of 2005. What have you done?

You went by “Lorie,” then you removed the “e” and it’s been “Lori” ever since. You’re a mess. In fact, you feel the exact same loneliness and brokenness from that time in 2005. Right? You just left everything you knew (for 2 years, anyway, since you’re gonna be moving 19 more times right after this), and then plunged into a culture you do not know, a language you do not speak, and a country whose airport smells like food. Whose country airport smells like food????

But after all the loneliness, suffering, learning to speak a language that will later on influence what you want to do in life, etc. etc.

*insert motivational quote here*

But today I feel low.

2017 Lo feels low.

It’s okay, though. I’ve gone through a lot the last few years.

I forgot what I was headed to with this post.

I’m gonna go nap for a bit and do a re-write later.

Musing no. 14: Kintsugi

So I felt broken. I still feel that way sometimes. I felt I had it together, had the perfect everything. Everyone thought everything was going well for me. From the outside I was pristine.

From the inside I had cracks slowly breaking through the outside.

I tried to drown it with justification. I tried to blame myself. Actually, I blame myself. It’s mostly my fault anyway. 

I feel like I’m never enough. And when I begin saying this, I can tell what people hide. I can tell when you act differently around me. I can tell when the way you touch me is different, the way you look at me. The way you don’t look at me. Why don’t you look at me? I suffocate people. 

My concern for their safety suffocates people.

And it was broken. My giant dam of emotions broke. It poured out. I had no control. I broke down. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. I was tired. I was alone. I got given up on. I got given up on.

After pouring my heart, my wishes, my soul, my poetry, my desires, everything you would invest in someone who promises to love you the way you love them–it just all trickled down the drain. Forgotten, set aside, shoved aside.

And I broke. 

And I hurt.

And I felt alone.

And I was alone.
So I bring all my broken pieces back to God–again–for the ump-teenth time. And cry. At His feet. Because I gave my love to someone who didn’t love Him more than me. I need someone who loves God more than me, who wants to grow in faith with God with me, and seeks His will and doesn’t doubt it.

Someone who runs to God when he is hurting, because he knows humans will fail him; I need someone who won’t hurt me because he thinks the carnal desires that take over him are what makes him human. Yes, they are. But if you claim to have a relationship with God, why live like that?
I’m tired of dating. I’m tired of wishing to be with someone who reciprocates and loves me the way I love them.

So I’ll wait. 

Learned my lesson again. 

So this time, I’ll wait. 

Maybe my love will come back someday. 

Only heaven knows.
And my broken pieces will be fused back together with the sliver of gold that takes over because of the Love I can always hold onto. 

Musing no. 8: No rest for the wicked

I wish I could sleep all my bad feelings away.

I end up waking up hating that I woke up. 

Kind of sucks when I literally have no time to relax right now. 

But I need rest.

“Come to me,” He said. I’m trying. But let me love You more than anything, please.

All this world does is hurt my heart.

Sometimes I feel like breaking and just reaching for the stars and infinity.

But I probably should just be patient.

Someday, I will love me.

Musing no. 3: What is your drug of choice?

How do you escape the present?

What is your go-to distraction?

Is it alcohol, nicotine, sex, social lives, business deals, books, food, the arts?

How do you distract yourself from that which pains you? 

Where do you run?

What do you do?

Who do you go to?

When do you find the need to?

Why does it matter?

How do you pursue it?

Is it possible to do just a little bit?

Do you need to do so much?

Does it matter how long it takes hold of you?

Are you loving yourself by doing it?

Are you sure?

Musing no. 1: Don’t get married.

Don’t get married 

When you think that you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.

When you feel unwanted, useless, unworthy of love, and aren’t needed.

When you feel uglier than any girl you’ve seen around you, because you’re shorter, pudgier, uglier than them.

Don’t get married because you’re lonely.

Don’t get married because you’re getting old.

Don’t get married because your time to bear children is running out. Even those who have time may not be able to have children.

Don’t get married to hide your secrets.

Don’t get married to a secret. 

Don’t get married to a child. Respect the reason why there’s a gap between two river banks. A reason was set up.

Don’t get married when there are red flags.

One ref flag is a flag too many.

Don’t get married because they proposed to you on their birthday.

Don’t get married because their mom loves you. 

Don’t get married because you have nothing else better to do.

Don’t get married and promise things you don’t mean just to get what you want.

Don’t get married because you feel like you have to.

Don’t get married because he’s wearing the most expensive cologne, dressed nicely in a suit, bringing in six figures but can’t find time for you. 

Don’t get married and justify it’s God’s will.

Don’t get married because it’s what you think the right decision is at the time.
Don’t get married to an illusion that hides all your biggest fears.

Don’t get married to someone who won’t value you no matter what you do.

Don’t get married to someone more in love about earning money; notice I said “in love about earning,” and not “worried about earning for your family.”

Don’t get married if they love you more than God.

Don’t get married in a rush.

Get married when you both promise to become old, growing together.

Get married to someone who is curious how you brush your hair, put your makeup on, put your work shirt on, how you brush your teeth–all stupid details, but to them is the most adorable.

Get married to someone who isn’t ashamed of being with you or about you, no matter what. 

Get married to someone who is kind.

Get married to someone who wants to learn to love what you love, so they can share your joy for it.

Get married to someone who encourages your growth, and seeks to grow in knowledge with you.

Get married to someone who listens to your cries and comforts you, no matter how tired he or she is. 

Get married to someone whose priority is making you happy, because that’s what you do for them.

Get married to someone who’d go above and beyond for you, because they see what you sacrifice for them. 

Get married to your partner–not to a boss.

Get married when you understand that you don’t need to change your quirks because you’re enough, and that’s why they fell in love. 

Get married when you feel safe with them, because they’d rather suffer than cause you discomfort, or broken promises.

Get married when you find you.

Get married when you recognize that God comes first.

Get married to someone who recognizes what you believe and honors and loves you without diminishing respect for your beliefs.

Get married to someone who loves you for wearing glasses, no make up, PJs, and still thinks you’re the most gorgeous being they’d laid eyes on, on the planet.

Get married when it’s True Love. 

Because you wait for it. You don’t seek it out. 

It will arrive, and will engulf you in a cloud of comfort, peace, and joy. And it shall surpass all understanding.

Because He is the Source of infinite love and joy. 

Just wait.