Disappointment.

Hard to not let it in and take over.

Struggle

As one of the only Christians among my very close friends and family, I struggle. Not that anyone makes fun of my faith or challenges me (though they could). I just...struggle. I am one of the few in my life that believes in (even I don't always follow) the Bible, and sometimes it's just...hard.

Today, when I walked into my dad's house, he yelled, "Lace! Thank (gosh) you're here!" like I was some kind of superhero. Typical of my hilarious father. Some time later, he said that I should do the same thing when he walks into my house, that it could be "our thing". I told him I couldn't. He had a confused expression on his face when he asked me why, and I explained, after some hesitation, that I don't take the Lord's name in vain. He told me, basically/in other words, that it wasn't, because I could be actually thanking God that he was there. I told him I didn't want to because I didn't like it.

He seemed upset and a little put off by it; I asked if he could remember the last time I took the Lord's name in vain. He countered with the fact that "God" isn't really His name, just the name we gave Him. I told him I still didn't like it. He (considerately) tried to think of an alternative but equally catchy phrase we could use once he realized I was serious, and even encouraged me to as well, so we could still have our "thing".

We didn't come up with anything.

The rest of my visit he seemed troubled--at the time I thought it was because of other things we were discussing, but looking back, I wonder if it really was because this is, quite honestly, the first time I haven't played along with my dad's games and jumped at the chance to have a "thing" with him.

My father means the world to me. For almost as long as I can remember, I've tried so hard to gain his approval, pride and respect. I thought, once, and you may hear me say this again and again, that I'd gotten beyond the point in my life where I wanted those things from him, that I didn't "need" it, that I didn't give a shit what he thought because it's my life and I have to answer only to myself (and God) at the end of the day. I felt that way and believed myself right in feeling that way for a very long time until I caught myself altering the way I was telling him about my life, every single time we spoke, so that he could more easily lean toward being proud of me. This, honestly, made me horribly and intensely ashamed for lying not only to myself but to my father, through omission or very selective phrasing. Struggling with that shame and desire for approval made me realize that it's okay for me to want my father to be proud of me as long as it wasn't to the point it had reached: denial and dishonesty.

I find myself struggling with this tonight, wondering if that's why my dad was acting so weird while I was with him. Was it my refusal to make it "our thing" because of my beliefs, or was it the personal things he told me about? Was he disapproving, unsure of what to make of his half-Christian child, or was he stressed and worn out from the rest of his life?

Tonight I find that I'm struggling not only with being the sole Christian in my immediate family, but also with my need for my father's approval.

I've decided that the best solution is to not ask him; not to avoid a confrontation (which is honestly highly unlikely), but to keep myself from inadvertantly belittling my decision (thus my beliefs) in order to gain his approval.

And so I lay me down to sleep...struggling and (mostly) silent.

Feverish

I've had a strange last few days, to say the least, somehow ending up with me simultaneously sweating and shivering on my couch instead of at work.

Miserable! But hey, at least I got a nap out of it.

I'm not sure what it is yet, but something's got a finger on my heart and it definitely isn't a good touch. My brain's a little busy being fried internally right now, but once the fever-haze rises, I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Until then, I'll just let the past be, and keep on sleeping. How well? Who knows. I do know that compared to my fever-dreams, my regular nightmares look like cotton-candy playtime.

Stupid brain. Whatever you're trying to tell me, please just hurry the fuck up.

Productivity for the sake of distraction

Some people's kids are just....kids. For their entire lives. I'm encountering this in a very strong, manipulative, deceiving and motivated sense as a co-worker of mine bleeds every lie and poison she can think of into the ears and hearts of anyone who will listen in an attempt to either get me fired or make sure she gets unemployment.

Unfortunately, it seems to be working.

I am profoundly struggling with keeping my head on straight, my heart tamped, and my mouth shut when I can't accomplish either of those things, which is, honestly, often; to be the object of such scandalous lies and realizing that openly defending myself only makes me look guilty of those accusations, thus understanding the crucial need to keep my mouth shut, is quite honestly one of the hardest tests in self-control, faith, and confidence I've ever experienced. My too-quick-to-anger tendencies are also frustrating, in that I understand that those instant-rage reactions are just me letting her get under my skin. I find myself thinking about "the injustice of it all", and then kicking myself for being a whiny, emo hipster. Fuck the justice. All that matters is the facts, most of which, at this point, are either unheard or dismissed.

Despite this, I refuse to let her win.
I refuse.

...honestly, the worst part of this entire situation is my temper. Let's just say things wouldn't be so .... clean if I didn't recognize the necessity of discretion. She's winning over not only my boss but a good percentage of my co-workers, slowly leeching any and all support towards her, despite the fact that she has repeatedly and publicly demonstrated her complete mental instability, maliciously manipulative tendencies, and pathological lying and attention-whoring.

Some people's kids.

To deal with all this, I've done the following in the past 36 hours:

1. Cried.
2. Swore.
3. Prayed.
   
4. Screamed.
5. Thrown things. Mostly soft things. Mostly.
6. Cleaned like the fate of my eternal soul depended on it.
7. Spent more time on the phone in the last 24 hours than I have in the past month.
8. Cried some more.
9. Stared at the ceiling.
10. Cleaned some more.
11. Listened to dubstep.
12. Drove like a legitimate maniac.
13. Chain smoked, while praying.
    
14. Kept my cool at work; kept all emotion out of my voice when speaking with my boss or his wife, then cried my guts out against Matt's chest as soon as I hung up the phone.
15. Questioned how the fuck it got to this point.
16. Fantasized very passionately and imaginatively about extremely non-ethical and non-passive actions, in relation to said co-worker and/or her property (fuck the fact that she lives across the street from a cop. Fuck. It.).
17. Cried some more.
18. Chain smoked some more, while reading and drinking Rolling Rock.
    
19. Cleaned some more.
20. Created a file on my desktop full of screen shots of the bullshit she's spouting on facebook, for evidence.
21. Watered the lawn while brooding, smoking, drinking, muttering, and imagining the water pooling in a much less peaceful and nourishing manner, rising to cover something (only slightly) more sentient than grass.
    
22. Yelled and screamed some more.
23. Napped with my dogs, on the floor, in a mess of blankets.
24. Convinced myself I'm stronger than I am.
    
25. Eaten horrible things.
    
26. Kicked inanimate objects.
    
27. Stared at the ceiling again.
28. Listened to more dubstep.
29. Told myself to lighten the fuck up, get the fuck over it, grow a pair, and keep the bitch out of my head.
30. Prayed.
31. Decided that I'm done giving a shit.
32. Eaten a peanut butter and honey sandwich.
    

Awesomely, I found 140 bucks in my glove box today. Thank you, God, for always waiting until I can literally feel myself edge towards two minutes from breaking before stepping in and letting me know You're still listening.

...I am slightly awed and definitely in shock to find that there is, literally, honestly, nothing left to clean in my house. I can say with full confidence that I have never, ever, in my entire life, been able to claim that.

Now, it's time to dig out the camping gear.

Tomorrow's going to be shitty. It's going to be ugly. It's going to be hell. There's no way to put an optimistic spin on it, so I won't even try. All I'm going to do is show up to work, smile, do my job better than anyone else ever can, keep my chin up, and count down the hours til I can shut my car door and disappear into the mountains for a few days.

All I need is that little glimmer of peace, hovering in the distance, to keep me going.

Amen.