I've been thinking a lot lately, about nothing, really, and I've been wondering about this "nothing" thinking--this thinking that gets me nowhere. How does it affect me? Well, for the most part my thoughts were ones of constant superiority--how this one doesn't do that and how that one does this. But, who cares, really? I've asked myself this question many times. I've also asked the same to others when I found that their thinking was meandering and that I was borderline suicide for having to hear it. Who cares, really? That's a good question--one that we should ask ourselves, often, I believe. This question only pertains to the constant complaining many of us have about what others are doing. If you don't like it, then go, do something else, but if your life is built around the critiquing of other people, then you are in the wrong business. No one's life should be based on what other people are doing and how much someone doesn't like it. I find this way of being to be quite interesting, and I'm guilty of it, too, but who cares really. Who cares if I think this person is doing the wrong thing? Who am I to say? As long as they're not harming themselves or others, then it's none of my business. And if they are harming themselves or others, then why am I complaining and not helping? Each of us has our own journey to trek, and if we're so busy criticizing others, as they take their journey--in abstract ways, then we, certainly, can't be journeying ourselves. I just think we need to mind our own journeys and focus on things that are really important like natural disasters, clear cutting the rain forest, child abuse--and instead of complaining about that, do something about it. People want to sound so intelligent from their seat in front of the television, but what are they doing, really? They're saying, Who cares, really? And those things, to me, are their business--to care for the planet and one another, especially our littlest ones. If you don't care enough to help, then don't say anything. That's all I have to say.

I love you!
Yvette

My Fog--Lifts

I enjoy writing my blog. It gives me hope, and I feel like I can do anything when I express myself through writing. I have been living a lie for a long time. I am not who I am. I am not me. I am someone else--someone who is not me. I am not myself. I lost myself a long time ago, and I miss me. I miss the me that I am. I miss who I am. I miss being myself and loving myself. I miss being true to myself and buying things that represent who I am. I miss working and creating a life for myself. I miss being me and creating a life that starts at day 1 to create the life I couldn't have dreamed of living.

I am there, right now, at the beginning, again. It was hard to start, at first, but I believe God gave me enough distractions to do it without really noticing--a wife, a daughter, family troubles. I'm thankful for that because, otherwise, I may have never done it. I may have never allowed myself to start again, and here I am moving forward and starting again--feeling like life is owed to me because I am alive. It is what life is about. Just being alive gives you the right to life. Yet, being alive and having life are two different things. Being alive and feeling alive are two different things. You are alive when you are not dead. You have life when your energy connected to something bigger than yourself--a purpose. You feel alive when you're glad you woke up this morning. You feel life. I learned that there are various forms of death, even in life. I don't know them all, but I know of one, in particular. One form is in the form of numbness. You feel nothing on the inside. You're numb to emotion, and your head is full of fog, which is so amazing because, literally, as I'm writing this I see fog forming across the grass on the hill behind our house. Ooh, and it's cloudy and you can't see much beyond it. It's clouding my vision of the grass and the bushes. It feels just like it does in my head. It's getting even more foggy as I write this, and it's quite daunting to see how the fog is taking over the scene. Although I want to love the awesome of it, it is a quick reminder of how glaring the fog is in my head--no clarity.

I wish I could have seen the fog rolling into my head, but I guess I'm glad I didn't. I may not have been able to handle it because, in nature, at least, you can't control fog. It's possibly the same thing for us, mentally. I may have gone crazy had I known it was rolling in. Thus, we may not have much control over the fog in our heads. Is it as natural as the fog on the earth? We are connected to the earth, one with the earth, so it's possible.

Does that mean that fog will settle into our minds and leave when the sun starts to shine and burn it off? Does that mean that the sun is coming out soon, for me? Does that mean that I'll be able to see the sun again soon? I believe so, and I'm awe-inspired by it.

Outside, it's getting foggier, and yet, it doesn't feel as overwhelming as when it first rolled in. Maybe because it's meeting the level of fog in my head. I feel, sort of, comforted by it knowing that the sun, which is already out--outside--will burn it off, in time. The fog isn't so daunting, anymore. In fact, it's doing what it does--whatever fog does. I don't understand the purpose of fog, but my 4th, 5th and 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, taught us that fog is a cloud that settles onto the ground. I wasn't so sure about that, but I always remembered it. Yup, Wikipedia just confirmed that it is indeed as Mrs. Smith said. In fact, the fog, when it hits the ground, is only considered fog because it hit the ground. Otherwise, it would still be considered a cloud, if still in the air.

The fog is becoming less dense and then more again. For now, I can see more of the ground and the bushes beyond. Seeing this gives me a real analogy and a new way of viewing things.

The sun has come out, outside, and the fog has disappeared. What a metaphor, what a gift I have been given. I feel almost undeserving, but, instead, I am so grateful.

I love you!
Yvette

How do you know when you're being really honest with yourself? I know that I'm not being really honest with myself, and I'm feeling desperate, almost, to blurt out my honesty. If I could pinpoint one thing that I'm not being truthful about it would be easier, but, at this point in my life, I'm not sure where that truth lies. Look at that, an oxymoron--how ironic.

I am not happy about my relationship with myself. In fact, I hate myself. (I know one person who's not going to be happy to hear that, but hear me out.) I'm stating only something that is true and, I hope, will set me free. I hate myself because I did not listen to myself when I wanted to do my teen magazine--my big dream--and when I didn't give the man I still love a chance. (Hate it or love it.) I hate myself for not trusting myself, and I know that I hate myself because my magazine was called Self Love, which I had a lot of back then--especially when I was in the process of putting together the magazine. It felt good to be doing what I was doing for teens. I just didn't believe in myself, and I'm so angry with myself that the anger has turned to hate. I'm just realizing that what I'm really saying is that I'm not a very understanding and compassionate person. The fact that I could hate myself for making those mistakes and for making choices that took me in directions I didn't want to go, tells me that I'm not very understanding or compassionate. Why should I hate myself for those things when it was, then, that I needed compassion and understanding the most?

I'm a good person to come to for guidance, and, if you're open, I can lead you anywhere you want to go. I'm not proclaiming to be God, but I know how to do it. However, I am spoiled, and I want my way. When things don't go my way, I have a tantrum. I have a problem with being told no. I don't understand the word in its full context. To me, it sounds like, "You're not good enough." I can't stand it, in fact. In discovering that I hate myself, I had to realize something even more scary to admit--that I hate God, too. Now, this may be too much for some people, but I'm being honest. I've found a way to humble myself to prayer and to seek guidance and ask to be of service to Him, but I haven't found a way to let go of Him not letting me walk through the door that I refused to walk through when He first opened it for me, only to want to walk now that I see what it meant for my life. I mean that deep-down dreadful hate that any Apostolic church would love to deliver me from--not that that's a bad idea. Still, this is the truth, and I pray to be set free. So, maybe this is a part of answering my prayer, since even my understanding of God is off.

I don't even have an understanding of God. I guess that's why it's important for parents to have a true relationship with God because, now, I need help. I need prayer. I need to understand how to have a relationship with God--that even when I mess up, He still loves me, unconditionally. I need to learn this so that I can have a great relationship with myself and teach it to my daughter--that's important to me. I need to step up and have a one-on-one conversation with God and calm myself down enough to understand God for who He is. I need to stop running and not be intimidated by who I think He is, and I need to let Him show me who He is. I probably need to do a lot more than that, but I realize I'm growing just by writing this. I just accept His love, all that needing to do is just causing me to put off something I can do, now. So, God, I'm accepting of Your love, even if I'm just saying it so that I can start practicing it. I'm sorry for hating you and for hating myself. Please forgive me. It's the only way I knew how to cope with mistakes.

Now, I'm allowing the Lord in, and I'm honored to have the courage to do that. I'm happy for me!

Love you!
y.