I miss my friend

I lost my friend. I really lost her. I lost something so special, someone I never treasured enough until she was gone.

I feel such a deep grief for Marianne. I think about her often, wishing that things could have ended differently for her.

I wish that she could've had someone other than me sifting through her belongings after her death. I hardly knew her. Just one year of baring one's soul in a group therapy session doesn't qualify me (in my mind) to bear testament to all the things she left on this earth.

It doesn't qualify me to be the one looking at her beloved wind chime every night outside of my front door, thinking of her. It doesn't qualify me to be the one at her funeral, reading the poems that meant the most to her, not even knowing how the hell to pronounce the word invictus.

I just wish she left this earth differently. It kills me to think of her using superglue to affix her tooth because she couldn't afford to get it fixed at the dentist. I hate to think of all of the pills she swallowed on a daily basis to push through the pain of her memories of past tortures. My heart quickens in anger when I consider that she left this earth alone, with only her pet rat near her as she drew her last painful breath.

I just want the best for  her. I wish she could've lived in her utopia: birds and horses and flowers all around her. A beautiful home that she wasn't too depressed to care for. No worries of a crooked cop finding her and shattering her life again.

I wish she could've found peace.

I wish she could've found peace.

Instead, peace found her in death. Death gave her the freedom she couldn't find on this earth. I hope she finds the heaven she deserves. I sincerely do.

In the meantime, I feel like she's teaching me. Helping me observe the lessons the universe presents me:

life is short. It's so short.

I want to find and live in the beauty of my world. I want to develop deep relationships, freely give love to those around me. Help those in need. Truly listen to those needing an ear.

I want to be the best woman I can be. I don't want this world to break me: I want to welcome and face life's challenges head-on, knowing that every moment is shaping me.

Every moment is perfecting me. And, in the end, I will proudly say: I was here. I lived each day, embracing each moment, until I died. I only hope I can leave as much love in my wake as Marianne left in her's.

I miss you, friend.

Waking Up

6:10 am - Alarm one goes off
6:11 am - Alarm two goes off

To this chorus of alarms, reverberating with their annoying chime, I wake up every morning. With a supreme act of will, I haul myself out of the bed. Shivering in the dark of my bedroom, I shimmy out of my sleep uniform and into a ratty sports bra, black pants, tech tee. A different uniform.

Coffee maker on, teeth brushed, contacts in. French vanilla chemicals into my bloodstream, I sit on the living room floor and thread my door key onto my Nike shoelace. Almost ready to hit the pavement.

Hit it, I do.

I crawl along, slowly waking up as Nicki Minaj, Lil' Wayne and Beyonce blare through my headphones. The same playlist as always, but somehow still bearable as my body and mind warm up.

After mile two, I shrug off the feeling of death.

I feel invincible. Powerful. Like I can conquer the earth.

I erase those feelings of self-doubt. I give myself a break from expecting perfection. I allow myself to dream and visualize a life that involves passion, purpose and freedom.

Sure, I have to go to work still. I have to do the song and dance for another day. But now that I know this life of mine is finite, I can plaster on a smile and welcome the day and its little blessings with open arms.

Things are looking up

Today my arms are open, willing to accept the blessings I deserve. Today, I know I can accomplish whatever I dream and I have a strong dose of hope to power me through. Today, I feel like the dark cloud I've been living under lately has finally lifted.

In the span of two days, I've shared my goal of pursuing my writing with my two sisters. Surprisingly, they supported and encouraged me. That's not to say that they are typically discouraging, but I have a history of constantly moving onward to the NEXT BIG THING and I thought they would try to ground me from this new adventure. Instead, they believed in me and wished me the best.

I'm still surprised at this recent turn of events, because just a few weeks ago I thought I had everything figured out.

I had applied to a master's in English program and planned to pursue a degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. My acceptance letter followed and I eagerly anticipated my Financial Aid package. When it arrived, it didn't take many calculations to realize that I just can't make it work financially right now.

Crushed. I felt a dark wave of disappointment and depression wash over me in an instant.

But, that deflated dream made me look deeply at my reasons for going back to school:

• I'm unhappy at my current job
• I needed a "backup" plan so that I could pursue my dream of writing

I had an epiphany: why spend almost three years pursuing a back-up plan when I could put all of that schooling energy into my career-change?

Duh. 

I truly believe that we are the product of our thoughts. Just a few days ago, my thoughts were negative...along the lines of "you'll be at this job until you die" and "you mess up and quit everything you try" and "you have no idea where you're going". As a result of this negativity internally, I was an emotional mess. I was crying and blabbering all over the place because I just didn't have hope and I didn't believe in myself. 

Today, I know that if I put the effort into my writing career and accept the financial implications of changing jobs...I can make it work. 

I can do it. This is achievable. I am already perfect and I can do anything I set my mind to. 

Let's rock it.