Tag Archives: alive

Missing you: a poem.

Four years, past to present

Yet you grace my latest dream

Unsettling, your kindness torn away

An understanding nestled in your eyes

One you ignore and I

Lean in toward

Four years, past to present

Your voice has left my memory

Your words that used to haunt

Have drifted away with the dandelions

In the unbearably strong wind

I cannot call your voice back to my mind

And mine is lost in the distance

Four years, past to present

All we shared

Severed

You thought it was a clean break

I have tried, desperately,

To control the bleeding

Left to manage the frayed ends

Four years, past to present

To the day

Reminded of the date

A heaviness rested upon me

Upon every limb

Upon my face

My chest

Dragged down to the deepest parts

No energy, no reason to fight

Not today

Tomorrow

Tomorrow the sun will wake me

And I will dance through every moment

I will smile and laugh and embrace

But today, I remember this

Remember you

Four years ago today

Of all the days I have been alive

That was one of the worst

Followed by months and months

And months of heartbreak

Today I feel the continuing effects

Like a wound that never properly healed

That still smarts when it rains

And today the clouds are covering

Four years, past to present

With not a word from you

No appology

No excuse

Not even an explanation

Still

I feel you missing from me

Missing you.

-Melissa

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Denial.

Denial is a really funny thing. I’m pretty convinced that it’s a good thing.

Could you imagine a world without denial? What if you could never push the bad things from your mind?

I just started writing something but it sounded ridiculous. So I’m not going to go there. But the thing is, I’m right. Because what if you didn’t have the ability to ignore the bad things? What if you could never focus on the good because your mind was so consumed with bad things? Honestly, we’d all be curled up in separate corners waiting for the world to end.

So denial is a good thing.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I realize we need to think about the bad things too. I realize that nothing good would ever happen if we didn’t. That’s an interesting thought. But if we could never think about world hunger (a horrible thing), no one would ever do anything about it. And if we never gave thought to earthquakes and other disasters, no one would ever think to go offer aid.

But the thing about being in denial, and knowing that you’re in denial, is that you’re always just kind of… waiting… for something to knock you out of it. Because you know that someone could breathe wrong and it could remind you of something and then, suddenly, you’d be devastated. Just walking the line between totally fine and really not okay.

It is interesting though- when I’m in denial and refusing to think about this, that, or the other, my body takes it out on me. My shoulders and neck tense up. Headaches abound. My stomach gets upset so much more easily. But when I’m not in denial, I feel pretty miserable most of the time. I can’t concentrate. It’s hard to interact with other humans.

So… to be in denial or to not be? That is the question. There are pros and cons to both.

And what if you stay in denial? What if you refuse to get out of it? What if you never deal with what’s bothering you? Will anything bad ever happen?

Or, when you least expect it, will just…

Explode?

-Melissa

Christmas.

Yesterday evening, I had the privilege of holding a baby who was only two weeks old. The tiny boy was only seven pounds and a few ounces. Carefully, he was handed to me. Asleep and totally, completely helpless, he lay in my arms. I rarely looked up from his beautiful face. His eyes were closed peacefully. He had a little scratch on his nose from his nails that needed to be cut. His lips, so small, were absolutely perfect. A miniature Santa hat covered his dark, black hair. It had probably been years since I’d held a baby this young. His beauty left me awestruck.

As I let myself become captivated by him, my mind thought of my King. My Lord. The God of the universe. His Son, filled with power and might, set it all aside and humbled Himself so that He could come into the world just like the rest of us. He trusted us enough to lay down His crown and put on our humanity and come to this earth as a baby. A tiny baby, helpless and completely reliant on those around Him. Too young to form words or even real thoughts. Too young, too weak to even lift His head on His own. This is our King.

Pregnancy. Birth. In themselves, they are miracles. But when you think about the fact that God came down to be one of us in that way? It’s mind blowing. A tiny little thing.. A head that fits in your palm. A hand that can’t even completely wrap around your finger. A body the length of your forearm. This is how the King of the world chose to present Himself to us. This is our Lord, willing to be born among us. Willing to put our life in His hands. Willing to be raised on this earth. Willing to take the first trying steps in learning to walk just as we did. Willing to befriend us. And ultimately, willing to die on our behalf.

This is our King. This is Love.

This is Christmas.

-Melissa

Outburst.

You know what absolutely sucks? Leaving bad things behind.

It’s not that part that sucks, really. It’s the fact that when you leave bad things behind, you inevitably leave good things behind too. And the good things.. let’s be honest- not things, people. When you leave the good people behind, they don’t really know why you left. They don’t know how much the bad things hurt you or how much it hurts to leave the good people. They don’t understand the pain that fills you when you think about going back. They don’t know you can’t let yourself think about them because it hurts much too much to do so. They don’t know how much you had to fake it or the kind of front you put up just so you’d survive.

And then you feel bad because you left them behind. And you know, you know, you know, you know, that you can’t go back. And you can’t do that again. And it’s the reason part of you is dead. It’s a piece of you that your body literally would do better without because it’s trying to infect the parts of you that are still alive. But still. You feel bad. Because you were good. You just had to be so freaking good to some people that now that you’re gone, they miss you. And leaving people like that really isn’t in your job description because you know what it’s like. And you want to be there for everyone if only they weren’t there. You know, that place you can’t go because… well you don’t know why.

But you know that you have to go back soon and the thought strikes you with fear and makes you crazy. Because why would you want to return to a place that saw so much of your pain? Why would you want to return to a place that stole hours and hours and hours from you that you’ll never get back? A place filled with emotion and pain and hurt but also with comfort because, hell! it’s all you knew for four years of your life. But at some point, a home turned into a prison and, for crying out loud, you still can’t figure out which one is it.

You just feel bad because you left all the good things along with all of the bad things. And you just wonder how long they’re going to keep hurting you.

-Melissa

Dead.

Back in November, I wrote a blog about learning to hate what I once loved. It’s really weird. I’ve ripped that part of me out. I don’t want to be dramatic but… I feel like a part of me has died. I don’t enjoy what I used to anymore.

I… I want to know if that part of me can be revived. Not now. Not even soon. For a while, I need to act like it was never a part of me. I don’t want to be associated with it. I don’t want anyone to know me by that.

But in a few years? I don’t know. The problem is that what little confidence I had is gone and my insecurities eat me alive. They literally make me want to crawl into a dark hole or box and not come out for a very, very, very long time.

How silly is that?

Four years ago, or five or six or ever, I never would have guessed that this is where I’d be. I don’t know what I was thinking.

By the way, having something that is a part of you die is incredibly painful. It’s probably supposed to be. It sounds really stupid and it feels really stupid but I will literally never get this part of me back to the way it was. I don’t even remember exactly what it was like.

I just….honestly, it was stupid of me to ever think I could keep it alive.

-Melissa

Awake.

“Oh death, where is your sting?!”

Where is my sting? Really? That’s what you want to ask me? Have you ever known someone to die? Have you ever had someone you loved disappear, never to be seen again in this lifetime? And you’re asking where my sting is? Seriously? You know where it is! You know the pain I cause. You know the grief I have the power to put you through. And you can’t control it! I control you when it comes to this and we both know it.

“Oh hell, where is your victory?”

You know where my victory is. Why do you bother to ask? My victory is in every sin you committ. Oh, you know the guilt you’ll feel after you do it. But you won’t be able to stop. And even if you do figure out how to control this sin, I’ll bring something else. I won’t give up. I won’t do it. You will spend your whole life fighting me. And I might not have an eternal victory, but I have victories every day. I have victories over you.

Wow. Not A great place for my thoughts to go in the middle of a worship service. But that’s where they went. Which is, admittedly, rather defeating. But then the next part of the song:

“Oh church, come stand in the light! The glory of God had defeated the night! … Our God is not dead, He’s alive, He’s alive!”

And death has no sting when it comes to the Lord. Death, ironically, cannot keep us from life. And hell has no victory at all of Christ, and therefore, over us.

“Christ is risen from the dead, we are one with Him again. Come awake, come awake, come and rise up from the grave!”

-Melissa