Archive for the ‘Encouragement’ Category

August 15, 2015   1 comment

I realize that there was a time when I wrote on this blog very often and then stopped.  I would come back and promise to write, but never really picked it back up.  I wanted to, but I never had the motivation.  I’ve started several other blogs under several other email address, different identities that tap into other sides of my personality, but I just can’t seem to get the ball rolling.  My brain is faulty I guess, I don’t know.  But i loved this blog at one time and I miss the sense of it being my “home base” so I want to write this out so if I am not able to come back again any time soon there is at least some sense as to why.

So much as happened to me in the last few years.  In 2004 my father died.  In 2007 my partner of 8 years died.  In 2012 my mother died.  All of those things are probably written about in here.  But they all also changed me and left me wanting for more.  Then my absolute faith in God was challenged and I have spent the last 4 years or so basically living my life as an atheist.  If you knew me, you would know just how intense and bizarre that was for me.  Then, last week, I just sat down on the edge of the tub of my bathroom and started talking to him again.  Him being God.  For the first time in four years.  We just talked.  And it was amazing.  It was like nothing I have ever felt before.

But you don’t have to worry about me becoming some kind of religious nut.  The relationship I have with God is really different than most people in that it’s a strong committed relationship, but it’s also very relaxed and open.  There are no rules really.  I don’t have to do this or that to make him happy.  We’re friends and he loves me just like I love him.  We just talk.  And share our stories.  And from time to time, I take  his advice.

But I do want to tell the story of my life.  And that’s going to take a certain turn.  It’s going to include my mental illness which means you’re going to hear about the fact that I have been hearing voices nearly all of my life.  And one of those voices has been Gods.  I can’t be sure if that’s real or not.  You’ll have to decide for yourself.  Just let me tell you my story and you listen and figure out what you want.

Anyway, I’m going to sum this up now with a clear “Thank you”.  I have enjoyed writing on this blog for the batch of you who read this.  And when I get around to it, it will mean a lot to me knowing I can count on your all to be intelligent, kind readers.

Take care for now,

Jen

Covenant   Leave a comment

Not everything that breaks the skin
Is an affront to my senses
Some things are just more worth waiting for
While others are better left alone

From the jump
I lost my footing
And found myself spinning
Out of control and going under
There is always a rhythm
That escapes my knowing
And I flail as I fail

But I get up
And I try, try again

You’re like my “watched pot”
That I can’t seem to ever catch boiling
I feel like no matter how I trick time
It’s me that gets covered in
Lost anthems of relationships
And wasted moments of inner conflicts

Night terrors and static and the reincarnation of everything
I thought I laid to rest
Here again
Pressing me up hard against the glass
To be examined by the doctors of my failures
And the professors of my testaments
Battle weary Argonauts
And the wreckage left of sunken ships

Everything repeats
Only now I’m tired
And I’m less inclined to seek the Holy Grail
Now seeking out a new covenant

This is my gospel
According to me

Jen

Sweet Things   Leave a comment

Dear friends,

I love you all. First and foremost, let me just say that because I, by now you know, don’t wait for “special occasions” like Thanksgiving to say sweet things or show my emotions. I have been bitten once too often by the misfortune of time to know that we don’t often get to reach the anniversary of milestones before the definition of our existence is qualified by the manifest of our character. By that I simply mean, it is not the memories of those gathered around a table on holidays that make me filled with love and gratitude, but instead all of those times past when minutes slipped by silent and unknowing and one of you or another had helped me justify my reality that lends to me now this feeling of such full honor and reward. As I prepare for a quiet celebration this Thursday, just a small meal that I will prepare myself for the two of us and then in the evening meeting up with my dearest friend for some not-so-casual conversation, I am thinking of everyone living up to their traditions who are surrounded by families and friends and busy with the coming of Christmas. I don’t celebrate Christmas anymore because I live its message all year round and no longer believe in its foundational origination. The same as I gave up faith for knowledge and prayer for learning, I have given up telling stories for sincere communication and dwelling on the past for weaving my timeline so that I can constantly be present while ever moving forward, slow and with purpose. I come to you now, humble and with a sincere heart, offering you with all the hope, honesty and innocent commitment I can muster, my love and friendship and my constant effort to be a quiet place where your weary heart may find comfort, your tired soul may find peace and your restless mind may find refuge. As you have all done for me, from time to time, whether you know it or not, I extend to give you now and always. I love you, my friends. Thank you for bringing me to this place of self love and acceptance. I could never have found me without you.

Enjoy your holiday,
Jen

Karen’s Got Pneumonia And I’ve Got the Blues   1 comment

 

I keep making things up.  I suppose I could just settle for some definition of what I’m doing that leaves me sounding creative and daring, but really I think that I’m just bored and a slight touch demented.  I come up with some other person I’d rather be; a name, a personality, a complete background and family tree and just live out a few days or even a whole lifetime as this new creation.  If I could be organized enough, motivated enough to write it all out and do something with it then I could say that I was an artist of some great means, but really it’s all just for my own entertainment.  It keeps me from hurting myself and lashing out at others and I know that there is some great benefit there.  I mean, any day that I wake up and know for a fact that there are no victims from the day before I can open my eyes and feel victorious.  But I am starting to worry more and more about all of this wasted time.  And I don’t just mean wasted as in “where is my life going” or “what am I amounting to with me doing nothing but daydreaming?”  I am referring to the actual loss of time that has been occurring.  I mentioned it to the psychiatrist and he made notes about it in my file.  It concerned him enough to discuss it with me again the following visit but of course I am now done with my time at Kennedy so all of the progress I have made with him is now dust in the wind which is always the case.  I never seem to get anywhere with anyone in therapy.  Just as we start down an interesting road I stop seeing that particular person and never because it is what I want.  This time it is because my 12 weeks of Intensive Outpatient is completed.  I have to start going to Catholic Charities now.  I don’t much like the idea of it, but what can I do?  With the limit Medicaid that I receive currently it was that or Drenk and Drenk had a 3 month waiting list.  I am a bit mistrusting and paranoid actually and not sure I believe Drenk.  I preferred going back to them for my individual therapy and medication monitoring, but I truthfully believe that my old therapist is still there.  She was supposed to be leaving their employment in late August, but when I called her extension it was still set up with her information.  I don’t think she wants to continue with me and I don’t think they feel I am stable enough to walk into that building, see her in person and not freak out and accept another therapist.  I admit, I got way too attached to her and I understand their concerns.  But truthfully, for as much hassle as going to a new place will cause me I would much rather go back to Drenk and see another therapist and just leave things be.  But they don’t know this and are probably just being evasive to keep things calm over there.  So they are saying they can’t take me back and now Catholic Charities is my only option.  From how it’s been explained to me, I will probably do a weekly therapy, see a nurse practitioner for medication and maybe have to attend a group.  I’m not sure how often the group will be, maybe weekly or bi-weekly.  I hope not much more than that.  They are located about 10 minutes further than Drenk and my old car has had enough of all these trips.  But regardless, it will be closer than Kennedy which was roughly 45 minutes and 28 miles away for me.  I must admit, the groups that I attended at Kennedy did help me.  They let me feel comfortable joining in discussions and being a part of the entire process of sharing and opening up.  So I am must more inclined now, I think to take part in my own therapy, both group and individual.  I don’t think therapy is something you are just born understanding out to utilize.  And that’s a shame because when you really need help you go for so long and it’s wasted just having you go and sit there and be afraid and closed off.  But now I know I will walk into any therapist office or any group setting and barring any bizarre scene I will do my part to get the most out of the help offered.  It makes me really full of hope and possibility.  I also know now that even though a lot of why I start going to therapy is because of anger and such what I really need help with is my PTSD.  My anxiety and fear is what leads me to my anger, but if you need to know where it all begins and what really stops me in my tracks from leading a healthy, happy life it’s the overwhelming fear and nervousness that I live with on a daily basis.  Out of the 24 hours of each day, second by second, I am spending so many of my hours consumed with doubt, paranoia, dread and an agony of disappointing people and being alarmed by the simplest of things.  I am at a constant level of stress and anxiety that I have just grown to expect it, but it corrupts everything about me, about my life and about my reactions.  And now I’m at a point where I am so tired and overwhelmed that my ability to manage it and hide it has fallen apart and what the world is seeing is anger and this violent, agitated, near demonic side of me that was always just below the surface and aimed at myself but now, more often than not, pouring over the brim and effecting them.  I don’t know this wasn’t a story or typical blog post.  My girlfriend is in the hospital with pneumonia and my head is frazzled because I’m alone and feeling too much freedom and way too emotional.  I know I haven’t posted in a while and I just wanted to say something and this is what came bumbling, stumbling out of my head.  I feel like there is a chance I could accidentally hurt myself while she’s gone.  That is such a strange thing to say, to admit to.  She drives me nuts and I spend a lot of time taking care of her when she’s home, but she still manages to keep me safe.  With her in the hospital I am alone and unattended and I feel like I want to do something risky.  Like I could cut myself or take a lot of pills just to do something dangerous.  I don’t know why I have these urges.  I just do.  When my old girlfriend would spend time in the hospital she always knew that as soon as I made sure she was ok I would go out and spend all of our money on drugs and just get totally fucked up.  It was like our routine.  I don’t do that anymore.  But in the absence of that plan I still want to do something risky.  I just am older now and tired and not feeling well.  But those demons still want to play.  They are still digging their claws into my brain and taunting me.  Who knows how I will shut them up?  I’ll have to figure something out.  I think I have 3 more days till she comes home.  And it is officially the first day of FALL which thrills me to no end.  Maybe when I wake up I’ll go get some hot coffee and spend the day out and about.  Anything to keep me from sitting in this house alone with sharp objects and pill bottles that sounds like a good idea doesn’t it?

Fuck it.

Wish me luck and shit.

Jen

Good Vibes   1 comment

I have written things that were honest and necessary.  I wrote them because they were forcing themselves out of my ratty fingertips and I was afraid that if I didn’t they would find some other means of escape.  Perhaps something even more ugly than tampering with your ideas.  It’s true, I have suffered and I have failed at managing my pain.  I have failed so tragically.

I write to placate my demons.  And sometimes, my demons use my very words to torture me further still.

But I am hoping to turn a fresh page and to start sharing what is good and what is kind and gentle and handing from my mind to yours what is beautiful and treasured.  Please, bear with me.  I am not a pro at being whimsical and all together happy.  I get bogged down often and writing is still my go to coping skill.

And sharing my writing is the only way I know of finding any true sense of validation.  So perhaps, I will still come here and plant demon seeds.  I am sorry, but I know no other way.

Maybe you can teach me.  Or maybe I can start to journey again around this world and meet and marvel and dream with my eyes open and take in what it is to be alive.

I think I just planted my first seeds of joy.

Good vibes.  I will water and tend these, my lovely things.

Walk with me.

 

Wildflowers   Leave a comment

wildflowers1

Wildflowers grow up in all sorts of random locations.  I suppose, all flowers that grow in nature are wild while the ones that grow in greenhouses, gardens and in pots along side windows and such are more like toddlers cared for by mothers in the suburbs.  They are still beautiful and full of possibilities, but they are less a ramshackle work of art then a landscaped carving of design.  They stand out only in that they modify what was predetermined and they foster little in the way of creativity or style.

Wildflowers come in all colors and they extend to all heights and varieties.  Upon further examination, someone with a particular knowledge of such things can tell you that this bud or that stem belongs to a certain weed or perhaps a variation of blossom that is common only to a specific season or climate or what have you.  While someone such as myself with little to no expertise on the subject will merely witness these charming blooms as the lively shoots of earth that break from the soil and reach for the mighty sun.  It’s poetic and inspiring and I don’t really need much more information about them then to know that they each, the short, the tall, the brilliant and the subtle stretch out in their own way for the benefit of the daylight.

It doesn’t occur to me to judge them by their colors or the heartiness of the leaves that brush against the ground or the way that some seem pleasant fodder for the ever present bumble bees.  I do not care to separate them based on how numerous some lay in the field while others are more rare and alone hiding perhaps on the shaded side of a large rock coupled with some bold mushroom or patch of grass.  They do not press me for status.  They simply do their best to soak up their share of the earth and water and take in their fill of the sun and leave me to do my walking or thinking or singing and we seem quite confident in one another’s ability to be exactly who we are without changing one another and that suits me in away that I don’t often find with those hothouse flowers.  Or those potted plants always begging me to trim back leaves or move them from shade to sun or back again.

No, wildflowers seem to understand me better even though they have never set root in my “neck of the woods” and I marvel at their capacity to learn my needs without so much as a word of lesson, a bark of threat, a grovel of bargain.  And this sets me to wonder just why I’ve taken so much time with these silly house plants and garden flowers who need constant reassurance and hour upon hour of pruning and watering and reference book after reference book of study merely to keep them alive let alone to bloom and flourish like my dear wildflower friends who just seem to always know just what to do all on their own without so much as a water bucket or stick of processed food from me.

Everywhere we roam in this world there are wildflowers.  They grow because they grow.  We don’t have to tend to them we simply need to respect their right to be there.  And it serves us an invaluable lesson to be ever mindful that while we journey around in our travels, we too are wildflowers in the eyes of all those who encounters us.  Our roots are not always visible; our histories are not commonly known.  Who we are is simply what is immediately shown.  When someone else stumbles upon you during their journey, you have a choice.  You can be a vibrant flower that offers a unique, positive and triumphant take on your place in the world or you can be shabby weed that comes across as needing to be pulled.  But whatever you choose, however you present yourself, you are a wildflower.

As someone who spends a good portion of my time writing, I fuel my passion by meeting new people.  It’s the new people in my life that are the greatest source of my ideas and without these wildflowers I would’ve grown tired along time ago.  My friends and family are more the garden that I tend.  They require my attention, I have to water them, provide them shade and sun and make sure that they get trimmed and fed.  It’s a give and take relationship that can take a lot out of me and hopefully provides a great deal in return.  But magic doesn’t happen often in such stable, routine relationships.  It can, but not in the vast proportions that a creative type comes to expect and depend upon.

That’s why I wander.  That’s why I come to you, my wildflowers.  I talk to strangers.  I make friends with people for a blissful 10 minute conversation perhaps never to speak to them again, but for those 10 minutes I am completely invested in them.  I love with all my heart and I truly listen and care.  My church is made of the streets of each and every town I have ever walked or driven in and it will continue to grow as I drift through my life until my final steps are taken.  And all along my journey, gathered up on either side, my beautiful wildflowers will blanket my path and usher me from here to there and I will know that I am loved as I have loved because I allowed you to be you as you have enjoyed me being me.

And for that, my dear friends, I am not only grateful.  I feel I have finally reached the sun.

Jen Czahur

Work to Do   Leave a comment

 

I’m trying to turn things around.  It’s true that most of what needs to change is in the fluttering chaos of my head, but there is more than enough actual, physical bullshit in the real world that needs a good ass kicking as well.  Where I live is a horrid situation and I was sold a lie as to a possible change.  I really sank my teeth into the idea that my girl and I would be able to escape here and have a normal existence and it helped get me thinking clearly for about a week or so.  But it didn’t pan out and now I’m back into a hopelessness that shoves itself down around me like a heavy, wet, wool blanket.  I am having a problem even breathing at this point.  But what I have taken away from that short time of being excited is the notion that life can get better and that I do have it in me to be filled up on possibility.  So I am trying to maintain a certain level of activity and clarity, fighting off the depression and anger that is embedding itself in my head with the passing days as the realization sets in that if I don’t work this situation nothing good is going to just happen for me.  I don’t get good things handed to me like some people do.  I will have to struggle, but I am going to be able to attain things.  I am not cursed.  I am not being punished, karma is not out to get me.  I just need to make a plan, think things through and do the work.  I can make a better life for me and for my girl.  I know I can.  Now I just need to do it.  Watch me.

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