"And Unique Eyeballs are...Looking"

I generally blog...as I just mentioned...when I have some piece of me to throw out into the interweb's abyss and maybe get somebody thinking. Or get it out of my head so it's not in me anymore. Or perhaps get some feedback. I don't really know why I choose to blog when I do. I just write on this thing when so moved.

And this morning is one of those times. It is my first day off in 2 weeks. I have worked for the last 13 days straight...and when one is feeling as desperately lost as I...getting in to work AND providing care to others...for 13 days with NO break...was...well...nothing short of miraculous. I continued putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing. And making it through each day...some days by the skin of my teeth...but I'm still ticking. And I have been being told by those people that I reached out to for help what I need to do with my life now in order to reclaim it and make myself happy. I understand some of these people mean well...some are just attempting to look nice for show. And the ones that do have their heart in the right place...I sincerely appreciate it...but it's like...shut the hell up already. You have no idea what I'm going through. If you've never heard the song "Welcome to my Life" by Simple Plan...do yourself a favor and listen to it. I'm serious. Go youtube it this second then come back to the blog. I'll wait...I can be patient.

It's one of those heart-breakingly sad but amazing songs. Because you hear it and think "that's me" and then you realize that you don't feel so alone. The thing about music that I think I find comforting is that...unlike people...music doesn't talk back. When I listen to the song and it stirs up whatever it does in my head...the song doesn't quip back "well that's not how you should feel" or "that's not what I was talking about" or "well I would do this." Music never faults you for letting you feel. It is simply a silent friend that holds you in it's arms and envelops your being when there's nobody else that can...or wants to anymore. Because you've worn out your welcome. And you're inconvenient. And "we've done this so many times before..." Anyway, back to this idea of feeling like "that's me."

People are always saying "oh I completely understand" or "I know what you're going through" or 1,000 other variations of the sentiment "I've been there..." whatever. And sometimes you reply with "no, you don't" audibly...sometimes you just scream it in your head. When I've been on the other side...the "I've been there" sayer...I was always frustrated when somebody would shake their head...but lately I've come to realize that it IS an honest and legitimate reply, not just an angry cliche. You most likely really DON'T know what somebody else is feeling. Because you have not lived his/her life. You may have shared some experiences, some feelings, and some of the same thoughts. But nobody has lived YOUR life...except you. Even your identical twin (if you happen to be reading this and have one) has not lived YOUR life. So now every single time I hear someone say "I know exactly how you feel" or "I've been right where you are before," I want to punch them in the face. I no longer think...."they mean well." Because if they did, then maybe they'd shut up about themselves for long enough to at least TRY to understand how I really do feel. Instead of just assuming that their experience is the same and that since they're okay I'll be okay.

I was recently told...by someone who I'll grant anonymity to even though this person really doesn't deserve it...that I was no longer Christian. To be fair to this person, I brought the subject up by saying that I was really struggling with my faith. However, the sentence that followed was...and I quote "yeah, the way you've been acting lately I really don't think you are (Christian) anymore." I was first pissed, then shocked, then inquisitive. So I asked why this person thought this, because I happen to know that this person has taken issue with faith as well. The reply was along the lines of having feelings of ending life is against the will of God and nature and that any REAL Christian would never even consider it because Christians trust God in everything. I fancied up the actual message...it was not said that eloquently (and my version was not by any means eloquent).

So...I let that piss me off for a while. And then I did a lot of Bible reading. I read the whole gospel of Luke (my personal favorite), a ton of Proverbs (my go to book), Song of Solomon, and of course the good old Psalms. And I continued reading the book I've been working on about ancient Celtic wisdom and spirituality. I realized...I wasn't questioning whether I was Christian...I was questioning my own faith.

And I believe there is a profound difference in the two. Faith alone does not make one Christian. There are so many facets of Christianity that I feel like anyone who hasn't at one point struggled with their faith...is actually...unfaithful. That's a personal opinion and I apologize if it has offended anyone reading this...but I mean...Job...anyone? God likes tests. And challenges. But we aren't allowed to challenge God back? I think not. Anyway, the person who said this to me...well...struggle for this person is not an intellectual activity. Ever. Especially in matters of the church. This person knew neither the Lord's Prayer nor that there was a difference between denominations beside the physical building and location. On a non-church note we had a discussion yesterday in which this person asked whether the shortening of because to 'cause was the same cause in, for example, cause of death. Intelligence level illustrated enough? So...I suppose I should have just taken this "you're not Christian" comment with a grain of salt from the beginning. But it really shook me.

I guess even with as much as I've been questioning every single part of who I am and what I do and why I do it and if I want to do it anymore...the one question that never concerned me had to do with my Christian identity. If nothing (and I really think there is NOTHING left at this point) I had that identity. In fact, it's so much a part of me that I don't even feel the need to identify it when I "label" myself. This is not to say that I haven't had my issues with God, or the church, or the Bible. I have more things that I don't know than I do. I have more questions than answers...but for some reason when it comes to faith...I find that almost comforting. I don't think I'm meant to know and understand everything. And if I took everything that was said at church or in a religious discussion at face value and just blindly believed (as sadly many do) then...I don't think I would have "real" faith. I would have that superficial "I believe" faith. I'm starting to sound like an asshole. I know not everybody feels the need to question...some take comfort in just knowing. That makes me uncomfortable but faith is deeply personal. I mean...I'll challenge the crap out of that person...but I'll never mock them for not needing or wanting to question the answers.

Anyway...so this got me back to the whole "I know how you feel thing." It's like assuming that your view of Christianity is the same as the person who is sitting next to you in the pew...because...you're at the same place for presumably the same reasons, right? Hell no. The person sitting next to me may have come because they would feel bad if they didn't, or maybe that's why I came. Maybe they came because they're struggling and seeking, maybe they came because after service there's a free meal. It doesn't matter. What matters is that that person is there and you can't assume that you know why. Or that you know that person.

Ultimately, I think that's what motivated this writing. I'm tired of people assuming they know me. And my problems and struggles. Listen, we all have our own burdens to bear. We were all raised differently. We all took our educations (or lack thereof) through our own lens. We all hear with our own ears. There's an Honor Society "Gentlemen's Club" (their web shorts...hilarious if you're looking for a time killer) that does this infomercial ("the merging of information and mercials") about mone (not money). And they keep talking about "unique eyeballs." It's a funny short because it has no point and it's just hilarious...especially for those of us that 1) love Honor Society and 2) frequently stay up late watching infomercials cause you can't sleep.

Anyway...the truth is...my eyeballs are unique. Yours are too. And I know you no better than you know me. I do NOT know your battles. You do not know mine. Stop assuming you do. I don't care who are...if you care about me (or somebody else that this blog makes you think about...or hell your "neighbor" or fellow human) QUIT ASSUMING YOU KNOW. You don't. There are experiences that we, as human beings share. Birth, school, work, relationships, growing up...but from there it's a free for all. And we all experience what we do share in our own very private and personal ways. I have seen things in a way that nobody before me has and that nobody after me will. I promise to remind myself that I can never assume someone's feelings...I can only listen. And I think that sometimes there's more healing in the silence of listening than there is in parroting back a list of why everything will be fine. Or what should be done to "be okay." Sometimes, it's okay not to be okay. Okay? To the people who read this who have silently listened and done nothing but take in my thoughts...I thank you. That's support. And to those who have told me what the hell to do, how to do it, and that they know what I'm going through...SHUT UP. You don't, you never will...and it's okay to not know. The honest truth is that when somebody is just lost and confused and hurting and sad...it's hard to sit with that uncomfortableness and just be with that person. Or just ask "you doing okay?" and be prepared to hear "no" and leave it at that. That's hard. I do know that. But sometimes, that's sincerely all that you can do.

So again...to those that offer their silent prayers on behalf of my unique eyeballs...I thank you. Your prayers may have saved my life. To those that "understood" and "corrected the problem..." kindly blow it out your ass. You did nothing but make my situation worse. Sometimes humans go looking for advice, sometimes we don't. Sometimes the ONLY thing we want to hear is "wow, that sucks and I'm sorry it's happening to you." And sometimes the only thing that we need is an embrace. A physical touch with no words attached. Which is why music (and Caitlyn) have now become my besties. Pain has been an emotion I've been dealing with for a long time...and I've struggled in the past with abandonment issues. When the two merged this week...Holy shit. Literally. So I'm handling what life is dealing out alone this time. And life is about to deal me one hell of an interesting hand...and we'll see how that goes (I predict not well...I'm preparing for all out war). Point is...I'm doing it. I'm here. Some days I hate it. Some days I hate everything. Some days I take the wrong body wash into the shower with me and instead of shrugging my shoulders I sit on the floor of the shower and sob for 15 minutes. But I'm here. And that's about all that I can ask for at this point.

I guess there comes a point in everybody's life where they realize that the key players in their life are...well...players. And everybody is human. And it sucks realizing that because sometimes you desperately needed to believe differently to stay alive. But the truth is...everybody is human. Unless Jesus is walking around among us again...then there's somebody out there that's divine as well as human and still I feel like if Jesus is back he's more human than divine...and I've lost my train of thought again. The fact is...there are moments in life that can not be taken back. Life is really just a series of moments strung together...Christ can you tell I've worked 13 days straight and not been sleeping? Anyway. What I think I'm trying to say is that at the end of the day only you can live your life. And you can only do that with the information you have, the support (or lack thereof) you have, and the faith you carry. And it's okay that nobody else "gets it." And sometimes it's okay to not be okay. Okay?

"A Little Bit Longer and I'll be Fine..."

"The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.” - Jim Morrison

I don't know who reads this blog. I have a suspicion that very few people actually do, however, if you read this and you DO know me...you know I love The Doors. I love Jim Morrison. I do. Everything about him. His voice, his poetry, his unabashed and unapologetic freedom to be himself completely. There are some people that even know I have this little theory of Jim as a modern day Jesus figure, or at the very least a prophet...but we're not getting into my theological stance on Jesus and the prophets at the moment. And if you knew none of this about me, you do now.

When I began this blog it was...a journey. I didn't have a specific purpose in mind. It was not meant to catalog my experiences in Iowa. It wasn't necessarily even meant to have a point really. Under the title it says "ramblings..." and that's really all this blog was meant to be. Ramblings and musings on my experiences based on where and how I was raised, to transitioning half a country from my "home," to family that I really don't know. The ONE thing I promised myself (on behalf of any readers I may have) was that this blog would never be a place where I took my dark thoughts. Sure, deep, depressing, sad, upsetting thoughts may creep in. That's inevitable. But I always wanted to have a positive spin on things...or at least have a hope that whatever situation or issue I took to this blog there WOULD be a hopeful and at least semi-positive lesson to take away. I promised myself I would never post a blog that was nothing but dark.

Read the quote at the beginning again.

And as Owen Wilson in "The Darjeeling Limited" would say "please forgive this."

As previously mentioned I am a fan of the Doors. And an avid reader...hand it to me...I'll read it (unless it's an instruction manual then it gets tossed...ooops). Anyway, so I read a biography on Jim. This quote was featured in a section detailing his family life. I won't bore you with the details of his family life, but I will say that when interviewed as a successful musician about his parents, he would answer that "they were dead" (they were NOT dead in case you didn't get the fact that the relationship was...tense to say the least).

So I read this quote during college thinking to myself...wow it's so awesome that I have parents that support me. How terrible to be so hurt and ashamed of your own family that you would rather just pass them off as dead than discuss them. My parents...we've had our ups and downs...but they never forced me into being somebody that I'm not. This does not mean I didn't get nudges here and there and attempts at re-directing my steps...but I NEVER got shoved into anything that I was adamant I did not want to do. As a matter of fact, my parents stressed the need to "find myself" and "make my own path." I blame the '80s and Maslow for this whole being a unique individual, self-actualization thing. Honestly, there's a part of me that takes issue with Morrison for his part in this "be yourself" crap.

Fine...I'll grant you...it's not crap. In fact since high school one of my favorite sayings has been "in a world where you can be anything, be yourself." And I always was. Let's start with this journeying thing. My parents encouraged and supported nearly every whim I had as a child. Ballet? Of course. Theater classes? Why not. Soccer? They coached (other kids mainly cause, I probably played in ONE actual game...I liked socializing on the swing set more than soccer...). The main bullet point here is that my parents backed everything I did. And I gave them more than one "parent's worst nightmare" stops along my path to myself. Perhaps the ex-boyfriend who was 18 years older than me was one example of this plan to support MY journey making them want to pull their own hair out. Still...they allowed it (not without a fight) but I was told that I had to make my own mistakes, be my own person, follow my own destiny...all that.


So before we continue this rant on why I now regard with contempt the freedom to be myself...let's delve into who Ashley CB is. Some of you know. Most of you don't. Some of you think you do...and again...most of you don't. That's mainly cause I've never had a DEFINITE identity. I've spent 26 years searching. I've been a girlfriend, a lover, a friend, a student, a sister, a daughter, a rebel, a sinner and a saint...but I've never fit neatly into one category. I'm always that person that idolizes The Doors and My Chemical Romance but goes to Jonas Brothers concerts (willingly and excitedly). The person who wears a Sinful (it's a clothing brand skulls and all) hoodie to a church service. The preacher in sparkly heels (that ISN'T Joyce Meyers) speaking on living simply. The business degree holder who hates cubicles and copy machines. I'm the odd ball. Always have been. Perhaps that's my one category...the weird one. The one who won Best Personality female in a class of over 500, but is truly one of the world's most introverted people.

Anyway. So that's a little glimpse into me. If there is ONE and only ONE thing that I've always known about my identity it's that if nothing else I was unapologetic about who I was. That is by no means saying I've always been comfortable in my own skin, in fact, a good part of my life I've spent trying on every possible role on because I haven't found EXACTLY who I am yet and that's an uncomfortable feeling. But there are parts of me that have stuck. That I have always celebrated about myself. Before this post turns dark...let's take a moment and celebrate the parts of myself that I knew and loved and would not for a second dislike myself over. And again, if you follow this blog, or know me...please note that the "knew" about myself is not a typo...my language is nothing if not intentional. Anyway...

1. I have a deep appreciation for the sacred and divine. Religion, spirituality, God, faith, and the constant search for where I fit within all that has always been at the core of who I was. I mean...I did go to seminary to pursue my Master of Divinity after all...
2. I am smart. I've had my not so smart moments (I mean the ex was only 7 years younger than my dad...what WAS I thinking?!?) but I am an intelligent human being capable of intellectual thought, analysis, debate, and research.
3. I am the most independent codependent person you'll ever meet. I am desperately wanting "me" time...with the people in whom I find comfort around. I don't like feeling alone...but I like being alone...make sense? Yeah...well that's me for you.
4. I am a fiercely loyal friend. With the exception of my sister (who is also my best friend) I have few friends. Very, very few. So few sometimes I feel like I'm doing it all wrong. But the relationships I've had/have are deeply intimate, intense, and fulfilling.
5. I am a generous person. I feel deeply for any noun in need. I mean...literally I sometimes feel bad for "ugly" rocks so I pick them up and carry them with me. I give to the point that sometimes I have nothing for myself (yes...I know...that's unhealthy...but it's me).

Those are a brief few truths about myself that I knew and held close to my heart when I've gone through tough times before. These are qualities about myself that I considered neither good nor bad...but they are qualities that even in my very bleakest of moments I knew existed. Some part of me KNEW that there was still something in me that made me Ashley.


If you've been following this blog (or you just paid close attention to the title) you know I relocated almost one year ago from Pennsylvania to Iowa. The reasons why have been briefly addressed in this blog previously and I'm not getting into them here. Not all of the reasons are mine to disclose, nor are these reasons appropriate for interweb consumption. Some things stay private. But I can say this...the ONLY thing that I came to Iowa expecting (because it was EXPLICITLY stated) was that Caitlyn and I were going to a SAFE place where we could just take the next step on the journeys we had started.

In case you haven't gathered...the opening quote fits into the blog right about here. My mother and father were by no means perfect parents. They never claimed to be...and when I was old enough to realize they were human I realized they did the best they could given all they had to work with (including their own children...Dad was NOT pleased about tattoo #1 let's not even get into #2, #3 and #4...which is just being hammered out right now..it's not actually inked on me). Anyway...I've written in this blog before that I've slowly felt myself slipping away from me. There are little things that I've lost while here (like wearing make-up everyday...superficial? maybe but it's always something that's given me great comfort and an outlet to be creative...though I HAVE reclaimed that)...and then there are life threatening losses of self that I have discovered. I am not exaggerating or being melodramatic. Literally I am fighting a battle of life and death daily now...and it's a craps shoot as to which side is ahead each day.

It's basic psych knowledge that the body's response to threat or fear or anger or extreme stimulation is "fight or flight." In my current living situation...flight is often easier. It's less confrontational (which is another thing that I am generally not) and it's less painful. But...recently my body decided to fight. And I'm not quite sure why. I have allowed myself in the past to be abused: emotionally, verbally, mentally. And once I broke free I vowed to myself that I would never again let myself be a victim. Perhaps that's why I fought back. Because I was tired of "flight" and taking the abuse then crying myself to sleep and writing in a journal for hours hoping to remove the venomous words and faces and actions from my body before they had a chance to internalize.

I do not want to relive the quite literal "fight" response. I will say this...my intention was simply to stand up for my right to be treated like the 26 year old that I am. Let me repeat that...the 26 year old THAT I AM. I am not the world's (or even Iowa's) most successful 26 year old. I do not have a great career, a wonderful husband and little ones on the way, a house, a nice car, or even a bank account that doesn't look like a 2 year old is managing it. I am in no way a picture of the "American Dream." But I'm doing the best I can given what I've currently got. For the past 3 or so months life has not been about living for me...but surviving. Every morning that I wake up I have to give myself at least one reason to make it through the day alive. These motivations started as "big picture" stuff. They have now turned into "if I survive this day I will live so that I can play Wii at the end of the night."

It was not until a few months ago that I finally understand what could drive someone into saying "they're dead" instead of actually discussing family. Family...while not included in the abovel ist of truths regarding myself...is a HUGE part of who I am. People are always saying you can't choose your family. This shit is true...but if family matters to you, then you do the best with what you're given. You don't just say "oh they're dead." Unless...they're murdering you while wearing the smuggest and ugliest smile on their faces. If necessary please read the quote again. The subtle murder part...I guess if I could sum up my whole entire experience in Iowa...well that would be it. I am slowly being destroyed by my own family. The same family that promised safety, and love. And I've often in my life quoted Eleanor Roosevelt's "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent," and I'm ashamed to admit that somewhere along the path of my year here I lost all strength and gave up consent.

One thing I haven't lost...I'm not one to share truths that belong to others. Not in this blog. I may have gotten darker than I promised myself I would ever go...but I refuse to divulge information that is not mine to tell. Without some of this (such as what things are said to me on a daily basis or examples of how I quite seriously have NO control over my life or even time schedule), however, this post may or may not have the effect on some that it does on others. Some know what's going on (mainly Mommy and Caitlyn) and some have an idea of what's been going on with me (those that KNOW my Facebook statuses are always updated with lyrics or quotes that reflect my mood). But it's no longer enough for me to just post my desperation in updates or tweet it in 140 characters or less. This battle has gotten to the point where it was finally blog worthy. I know that the following statement will be met by gasps, shaking heads, and disapproving faces and that I may lost people from my life forever for saying the following, but:

I HATE MY FAMILY FOR DESTROYING WHO I AM. EVERYTHING ABOUT WHO I AM HAS BEEN STRIPPED, TAKEN AWAY, AND REPLACED WITH A VERSION OF MYSELF THAT NOT ONLY DO I NOT RECOGNIZE...BUT THAT I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE. WITH PASSION I HATE THE PERSON I AM AT THE MOMENT. HATE.

I didn't expect life in Iowa to be the same as it was at "home." I wouldn't have taken the leap if I hadn't anticipated change. I didn't ever, ever imagine that I would be left a year later not only not closer to who I wanted to become...but nowhere near who I was. The list of traits that I ALWAYS had at my disposal? I don't even believe them anymore. I have been so controlled, manipulated, hated, despised, demeaned, and disrespected that I literally have NOT ONE positive thought about myself that is not IMMEDIATELY followed by ten negative things that I've internalized. My life has become...not my life. It's become a charade. A sort of...shackled version of an attempt to take a risk. And I got tired of it...so I stood up for myself because I deserve...at the very least...to be treated as a human, if not with respect and dignity and love, at the very least as a God damn HUMAN and not an object to be controlled. The whole "fighting for my right (not even to party...I long ago abandoned that)" incident occurred nearly 2 weeks ago. And today, I hate myself even more for trying to rectify the situation. How backwards is that? In taking a stand and trying to reclaim who Ashley .I pray)...I regressed further to a person who doesn't even have the name Ashley. You might as well call me "Thing 2" for as much as I...and those that surround me currently...think of me.

I told you...dark posting. "Please forgive this."

Yet...there's more Jim that helps me a little. Well, a few things have. People that DO love me...and I mean REAL love...have been of enormous help. I honestly wouldn't even be around to type this blog without the tireless and relentless efforts of Caitlyn and the long phone conversations at night with my Mom. Anyway...back to Jim.

"A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself— and especially to feel. Or not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to— letting a person be what he really is....Most people love you for who you pretend to be....To keep their love, you keep pretending— performing. You get to love your pretense....It's true, we're locked in an image, an act— and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image— they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it— they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession."

It goes without saying that that's a Jim quote. This blog ends on...well...it kind of just ends. I'm in a dark place right now. I'm in a place so dark right now that sometimes I literally see NO light. But I DO have those "true friends." Those friends that don't force me into something or someone that I'm not. Those people that allow me the freedom to be in this dark place. Those people that remind me when I'm in the shower sobbing and trying to scrub tattoos off of myself because I feel like they make me a "bad" person (and I have NEVER regretted any of my ink EVER) that I AM OKAY. AS I AM. And that even if I don't know who I am right now, somebody does. And it's okay with them. God is most likely one of those friends. The others know who they are. They've been rescuing me from my own self loathing and hatred when I'm too weak to do it myself (which is pretty much all the damn time lately).

I generally write a blog when I've got something...not poignant...but worthwhile to say. Something to just throw out there to think about. A little bit of my self. This blog...I guess it was an attempt to assert that I WILL NOT pretend love anything or anyone. I do not need the love of those who must force me into love on his/her terms. Maybe it was an attempt to deal with the pain I feel every second for being hated and told constantly that I should be someone I just am not. Maybe it was my way of getting out that I don't have to be just like somebody else's 26 year old relative. I can be me and that can be okay. And maybe someday...I'll even remember that being myself unabashedly is beautiful. I'm not finished finding out who I am or where I fit. Some days are going to be easier than others. I hate where I am right now. And I hate who I am right now...but I will somehow each day find the motivation and determination and spirit and faith to put one foot in front of the other. To breathe in and out. And to slowly take back ownership of Ashley. But by the grace of God go I. Amen.