Broken-down Poetry

Day 9

Day 9 was no good.

—

“She was crying the way a woman cries who is no longer surprised to be crying.” – Jayber Crow

November 19, 2011  Leave a comment

Day 7

I made it to Day 7! That means I’ve been single for a whole week without keeling over, dead. Boy, I was pretty sure I would, too. Days 1-3: I was a wreck.

So how am I now? Well, you’ve seen the confetti! You’ve seen an overuse of exclamation points! I must be happy–!

I’m not.

Sure, I’m proud of myself for living to see Day 7, but I’m sure as heck not happy.

I want him back.

—

Cheese, Ethiopian food, a salad, a 1/3 can of soup, BLT, Thai peanut soup, Chick-fil-A nuggets, salad and a sandwich, toast, crackers, Chick-fil-A nuggets.

I thought it might be amusing to see how much I’ve eaten in the past week. I am definitely amused.

When I’m upset, I can’t eat. I try to eat, but when I do, I feel sick. Of course, eating at least a little would make me feel better. But when a girl’s upset, she doesn’t want to find anything to eat. She wants to be happy. She wants to keep moving so she doesn’t have time to get upset.

I suppose most girls eat a lot when they’re upset. I don’t. I eat when I’m bored.

November 16, 2011  Leave a comment

Oh, Iraq!

Now how I remember you
How I would push my fingers through
Your mouth to make those muscles move
That made your voice so smooth and sweet
Now we keep where we don’t know
All secrets sleep in winter clothes
With one you loved so long ago
Now he don’t even know his name – Neutral Milk Hotel

—

Day 6.

Today is harder than yesterday – no doubt.

I woke up filled with loneliness. I feel very introverted, I guess. I don’t want to talk but to sit and reflect and to dream.

I want to go back to Iraq. Last night I read an article about TEDxBaghdad. One of its speakers runs an organization for disabled Iraqis. Man oh man.

Another moving story that gripped the audience was that of Inaam Jawad, founder of the Dina Lodging Institute. Jawad narrated the story of how she lost her husband and she was left to care for her two daughters, one of whom is disabled.

“I wondered why God would take my husband away when I have a disabled daughter,” Jawad said.

“When my daughter would return from school, she used to ask me ‘why people call me crazy?’,” she told the audience, expressing her sorrow that in Iraq there are little venues catering for disabled children, “There was no place I could enroll her without her being emotionally hurt by a society that marginalizes disabled people,” she said.

From meager beginnings selling drinks and sandwiches, Jawad was able to group disabled children together and created Dina Lodging Institute which houses over 60 physically or mentally disabled children and adults.

“Now my grown up daughter knows how to take care of other disabled children; now I can sleep knowing that I made a place for her in society and for others like my daughter,” she said.

“Now I know why God took my husband, so I could work better to give my services to these disabled children that have had no place in a society that rejected them.”

Another concerned parent to take to the TEDx stage was Wisam al-Tuwairji, who was determined to provide support for his daughter’s autism. He helped build an autism based school and restored hope for some of Iraq’s autistic children.

Logistically, perhaps Iraq isn’t the best next step for me. Maybe saving money for grad school’s better. But. Iraq!

I can’t forget about Iraq. I know I was only there for two months, but man alive – my heart’s been there since I was in high school, and it’s still there now.

November 15, 2011  Leave a comment

Hope is the thing with feathers, continued

Day 5.75.

—

I’m sorry for those of you with readers. I’m not trying to be obnoxious with posting. I guess I just want a way to track my progress in this whole bein’-single business. I could journal, but I don’t feel like cramping my hand. I could add to my Word document journal, but I would rather this be public.

I don’t know why.

Anyway.

—

I went to the River again tonight. I think it’s okay for me to call it that — the River, capital-R. It makes the ol’ Mississinewa sound more romantic. It was pretty romantic tonight, anyway; so it fits.

I went there to reflect. For about 20 minutes or so I wrote a poem. Because I was alone in my car, I could read the thing out loud without fear of people walking in the room. I didn’t need an audience. So I wrote and I read aloud.

I was going to head back then, but I decided to roll down my windows (it had stopped raining by that point) and reflect. That’s why I went there anyway.

Instead, I prayed. Out loud. For nearly 30 minutes. I haven’t done that in what seems like forever. It was beautiful, and it felt so natural.

What’s funny is how cynical I’ve become since starting at IWU, mainly because of its legalism. But now, more than ever, I feel close to the heart of God. I know a side of him I didn’t know before. It’s beautiful. I’m so thankful for it.

—

So where’s your landslide?
Where’s your victory?
Tell me now, where’s your sting? – Thrice

November 15, 2011  1 Comment

Hope is the the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me. – Emily Dickinson

—

Day 5 is going to be better than day 4, 3, 2, or 1.

Why? I have hope.

—

I’m not a very good ex-girlfriend. In fact, I have a track record of being a really awful one. I don’t let things go. I either slightly resemble a stalker, or I am filled with resentment.

Well.

Nate and I have been in contact. Why? I needed closure. Everything came so abruptly, so I needed some things answered. I needed to be okay with his decision to break up, and so on.

No, I’m not okay with it, in that I would have done it myself. But, I’m more okay with it now than I was a few days ago.

But because of our being in contact, I know Nate and I can be friends. I know that’s usually not a good idea. I’m trying to figure out why. I think a huge part of that has to do with resentment, but Nate and I didn’t break up on bad terms. He doesn’t hate me. He still cares for me a lot — and of course I care for him a lot. And if we were truly best friends to begin with, why can’t we be friends again?

Of course, these things don’t happen right away. I can’t just be his friend now. I can’t hang out with him like buds, and give him dating advice (puke) or something like that.

But in time, I think it’ll work.

And I know, too, that there are only two things that will result from this break-up: either we will both realize we are meant to be together, or we’ll both move on and find happiness with other people.

Those are the only two things that can happen.

Neither of us — inshallah — will keel over and die.

Neither of us will live miserable lives.

Nathan’s doing what he believes is best for us. And I, in my weak state, believe that that’s true, as long as we end up together. (Hey, it’s only day 5.)

November 14, 2011  Leave a comment

The earth is bursting with life, continued

Day 4.5.

—

I read this, and it (somehow) gave me hope:

A great sin: the fear, and ultimately paralyzation, of becoming.

You are not who you want to be, and the path is unclear, so you sit down in the dirt. The cloud of dust is comforting for awhile as it has the illusion of movement, but you’ve been fooled. The dust settles on your increasingly stiffened muscles. Rigamortis, God forbid. God forbid.

God forbid you sit in on the path and refuse maturation. God forbid you let the dust settle and you deny redemption. God forbid the fear of taking a step forward or backward or left or right and you deny process. God, in great humility, does not forbid failure. God does not forbid mistakes. God does not forbid missteps. Go fail and fail well! is the voice of God. Do nothing! is the voice of evil.

Stillness is not dualistic. There is a good, sacred stillness, and there is an evil stillness: the stillness of fear. You cannot stay in the desert. You may go to the desert, and you may be in the desert for a time, but if you stay then you choose death. Leave the desert. Leave now while you can, while you are still alive. Leave while you are able to choose to work out your life with good fear and with good trembling. We have so little time and we have so much time. – Joshua Longbrake

—

I think my biggest fear came true. More than a year ago Nathan asked me what my biggest fear is. I told him for my lover to stop loving me.

Hey, I survived my greatest fear.

Those afraid of drowning rarely survive their fear.

But it hurts still.

I told Nathan once that it gave me hope that God doesn’t stop loving me the same way he (Nathan) will never stop loving me.

But God won’t stop loving me. He can’t.

Men fail; God never does.

He is a romantic. Still I believe this.

November 13, 2011  Leave a comment

The earth is bursting with life

Day 4.

—

He never ever saw it coming at all.
He never ever saw it coming at all.
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.

I’m the hero of this story, don’t need to be saved.
I’m the hero of this story, don’t need to be saved.
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright. – Regina Spektor

—

Morning is the easiest.

I wake up with hope — which is great, because we all know how much I hate mornings.

But friends, your dead will live,
your corpses will get to their feet.
All you dead and buried,
wake up! Sing!
Your dew is morning dew
catching the first rays of sun,
The earth bursting with life,
giving birth to the dead. – Isaiah 26

But still. Yesterday got worse as the day went on. It reminds me of this scene in Another Earth, an indie film, when the man whose family died finally tries to get off the couch and live. The first day he does it, he gets a killer headache, and says he tried to do too much.

Yesterday I tried to do too much.

But unfortunately, I can’t slow down. College seniors have no time to slow down.

—

One of the most beautiful things I did yesterday was go to the river and read Holy the Firm out loud. I know the Mississinewa is no Puget Sound, but it was still nature. And I know God is in nature.

So I read:

These are only ideas, but the single handful. Lines, lines, and their infinite points! Hold hands and crack the whip, and yank the Absolute out of there and into the light, God pale and astounded, spraying a spiral of salts and earths, God footloose and flung. And cry down the line to his passing white ear, “Old Sir! Do you hold space from buckling by a finger in its hole? O Old! Where is your other hand?” His right hand is clenching, calm, round the exploding left hand of Holy the Firm.

I didn’t feel any magical healing after that moment — but while I read those words, I felt peace. I was focused not on my problems, but on the Absolute. That was worth it.

—

Yesterday another batch of friends came through for me: Haley, who baked me cookies, and Alex, who took me to a smokey diner to talk. Though both interactions ended in me crying more — I think that’s okay. It’s only Day 4.

November 13, 2011  1 Comment

I need goals.

The summer after my freshman year of high school, I had the biggest crush on a boy named Adam, who had just graduated.

Adam was everything I wanted in a man: he was a Christian, a political junkie, buff, and sexy. I look back now, and even in high school Adam looked like he was 25 years old. Hot.

Anyway, Adam graduated high school and planned to go to college in Arkansas. Yes, Arkansas. So that summer, the summer after my freshman year, I decided that I was going to prepare myself for when Adam got back. I made a series in my journal called “What God Has Taught Me In 3 Years” (for when I graduated high school) or “What God Has Taught Me In 7 Years” (for when I graduated college) or “WGHTMI7/3Y” for short. Because then Adam and I would be together forever — and I’d be ready for it.

Adam got married 2 years ago.

About a year after Adam went to college, I had a crush on a guy named Ben. I had maybe three interactions with the kid, but I let myself like him for two-and-a-half years anyway. (This morning as I planned this blog, I could not think of Ben’s name for the life of me. Two-and-a-half pointless years.)

During these two-and-a-half years I decided to prepare myself for life with Ben. I believed that I couldn’t/shouldn’t date anyone until I was truly in love with God and truly myself.

I made a series called, “The Battle to Become [myself]” which lasted for about all of those two-and-a-half years.

Then in college I gave up on this, and subsequently started crushing over loser guys. One who is now married, the other who is still a loser/jerk.

—

I need goals.

Okay, I don’t need to do what I did in high school. I will make no journal series called, “What God Has Taught Me In My Miserable Months/Years of Singleness,” but I think I should do something. I need some sort of impetus.

I’m miserable right now. I don’t mean that. When I’m not falling in love with what I’m doing, or having fun with my friends, or feeling God’s peace — I am miserable. It’s only day 3, but I hear day 3’s the worst. Or maybe that’s day 5.

—

I need wants.

What do I want?

I want to move to Seattle, Washington.

I want to read Holy the Firm by Puget Sound and pretend I’m Annie Dillard.

I want to publish a poem.

I want to climb (part of) Mount Rainer.

I want pay rent; I want to live like an adult.

I want to date around.

I want to be a beat poet.

I want to trust God, to seek Him for adventure.

—

Today, day 3, I’m thankful for my friends. I’m thankful for Caitie Merz, who sent me the nicest text this morning, complete with a textual hug. I’m thankful for Jeremy who sent me a non-rhyming poem last night (my faves). I’m thankful for Rachel who let me sob on her shoulder last night in the back of the car, on the way home from Indy.

—

It’s only 11:25 a.m. It’s going to get worse. I’m going to start feeling bad again. But right now, right now I’m fine. Right now I’m resting in the peace God’s blessed me with. I’m resting in the joy of my friends, the joy of opportunity, the joy of things-to-do and people-to-meet.

November 12, 2011  Leave a comment

The only way I know how

When I was in high school, during study hall I would scribble quotes, songs, and Bible verses on sheets of loose leaf, trying to express how I felt at the moment. Those were my prayers. I knew no better way to talk to God in those moments. I wasn’t the type to close my eyes and pray during class, or sneak off to the bathroom to pray out loud. So I scribbled notes to myself.

I wrote on the bottom of all my paper prayers: “It’s the only way I know how.” Sometimes the messy way is the only way I know to pray.

—

I wish we’d always wake up new,
Refreshed and born again with nothing left to lose.
But we dream too much.
Who needs a crutch?
Pull off the bandage,
There’s no wound.

So please just leave,
You don’t mean that much to me.
Give back the ring,
Keep all those summers with your friends
Cause you know you need them.
As for me it’s nothing new just another two years
While I’m here losing sleep. — The Format

—

I was in a relationship for 15 months.

A friend told me once how relationships are like hard drives. When you break up with someone, you still have all these memories of them and knowledge you got from them on some proverbial hard drive.

You have no idea what kind of now useless knowledge I have about UFOs, marijuana, Tom Petty, hard drives (oh, how appropriate), music recording programs, species of trees, and, of course, painting.

I think what’s hardest of all, though, is not this hard drive thing. Let’s look at the positives of that: I’m more knowledgeable than I was 15 months ago.

No, what’s hardest is missing the people. His family, his friends.

I don’t know what normal protocol is for these things, but I Facebook messaged his aunts and sisters, to thank them for letting me into their homes and lives. And I know this break up is nothing like a divorce, but gosh it kind of feels like it.

I grew to love these people, and now I can’t have anything to do with them. I mean, I hope we’ll stay Facebook friends. But I’m also Facebook friends with people I’ve literally never talked to.

And his friends. I think most of them will want to keep talking to me. For a while. But even these things fade out. We no longer have a reason to see each other. I’m not going to be invited to parties anymore. I was the girlfriend, now I’m not.

—

So begins a new series — an accidental one. I theorized once that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over someone. So this will be a seven-month series of my recovering. (Ha, let’s hope it doesn’t last that long.)

These blogs are meant to be pity-parties. I will, however, keep posting as I learn to recover from this breakup.  Right now my heart hurts so badly. This is the first time I was honestly in love with a man. Of course it hurts.

So. More from me later.

Lauren Deidra

—

Also, thank you to my friends — Rachel, Molly, Elizabeth, Isaac, Abby, Allison, Katie, Renee, and Matt — who have shown me so much love in the past 24 hours. Thanks to Mom and Sam for the same, and for those Facebook acquaintances of mine who’ve promised prayer. And to my two favorite professors who’ve acted as fill-in parents for me.

I know I am deeply loved and cared for. I am a lucky girl.

November 11, 2011  2 Comments