The clock was falling closer towards dawn as I just continued to toss and flip around. That feeling had set in on me. The undeniable weight of the truth of what is heading your way. Full force with no chance of avoiding it in any way. There really isn’t a name for it; I refer to it as death. Not actual death, but the concept of it. The permanent unshakeable feeling of it. That moment you have been dreading but ultimately know it is coming. You go on each day trying to live it without the fear or even the thoughts of what is coming for you. Call it denial if you will, but in some ways denial isn’t a bad thing.  Especially, if there is a period of waiting for something to happen. For example, when a loved one is on their final stretch of their life. You, their loved one, are told to prepare yourself. I have had loved ones pass on without having the chance to say goodbye. I have had loved ones that have a timer floating above their heads. That morning I couldn’t sleep. I kept running through the past few weeks of mine, my families actions. Trying to piece together how we actually got to this point. At some point throughout that night without noticing or really even knowing but it was as someone silently whispered into my ear that it was the end. That before the night was over and the sun rose that my phone would ring with the bone wrenching news being said out loud. We were given anywhere from a week to a month with my grandmother, Charsley. Her opponent was cancer.  When I was a child cancer dared to enter the ring with my grandmother for the first time. It went for her breasts. I was at the age that now looking back moments of those days seem foggy. I remember the fear on my family’s faces. The seriousness of every moment. I also remember the relief; the release of weight from the air when my grandmother conquered cancer. After her victory cancer stayed away from our family. Until, I was a senior in high school. My sisters best friend, Jenessee, was diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer. They were together so much that before too long she turned into another sister to me. She was given a few months given that it was stage four. She fought like hell. She dug down deep and became a warrior. She fought past her timeline. Even though during that time we were all in a unknown state of time but after we passed the time length placed on her; we were in more of unknown state of time. Time we had left with her. Time to make memories. Time to say goodbye. Now it was more of a worry that each time we spent time with her that it’d be the last. There were many days within the following months that we rushed into the hospital in hopes of a final “I love you,” or “see you soon.” No matter what we did though we couldn’t honestly plan on being there for that moment to get that chance. Cancer won that fight that December. Without a doubt she won the war.  This was the first time I ever felt the feeling of “death.”  That entire year I knew unless she was given a miracle that goodbye was coming sooner rather than later. Even with knowing that the feeling of the end wasn’t known until the weeks before it was here. It was like the air had the warnings within it. “Get ready,” it whispered. All of a sudden you have a glimpse of what the end of someone’s life feels like. Comforting but devastating. It eats at you throughout all hours of the day, night. Do you act on the feeling? Do you warn them of this unshakeable feeling that is covering you? Or do you act as before and just use the time you have before what is coming gets there? These were all the questions that filled my mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

alive

Do you ever feel like that you personally know what the meaning of being alive is? I don’t mean the actually definition of the word alive either. I’m talking about what it takes to be alive. Some may argue that there isn’t a difference, but there actually is. There is a difference between being alive and living. I cant speak for everyone, but I know for myself even though I am only 23 years old and still have a lot of life left to live; I always felt like I had a good concept of what the meaning of being alive in this life meant. It could mean different things for different people. To some people it could be just getting through the day. To others it maybe conquering everything that may scare them. I guess it depends on the life that each person lives. Growing up I never realized that there was difference. I did what I loved, I surrounded myself with people that made my heart smile and I truly felt happy with life, my life. It wasn’t until I graduated high school that I had a reality slap that I had no clue what living meant. The first two years after graduating I had it built in my mind that to be free and alive that it meant going, going, going; constantly on the go. Doing things that filled my days and nights. Looking back three years later I honestly remember a select few times throughout those years. And those moments aren’t remembered because they were epic or moments that I was full of life. The harsh reality of it is that in those moments I wasn’t wasted. For those two years I did what I wanted whenever I wanted. If my friends did it then most likely I was going to do it as well. At the time I thought that I was living. I was dating a guy that I knew from the first day that it would never be anything more then what it was at that moment. Him being the wrong guy didn’t bother me though. He was my best friends boyfriend’s best friend so I built it up to what is the harm of just having fun with a summer fling. We could just have fun together hanging out all four us. I mean how awesome would is it that you and your best friend are dating best friends. It was awesome. It was fun. I was alive. Once Summer started coming towards an end I started my normal routine to get ready for school to start. It was during that time when I started noticing again how much we were different people. It wasn’t so much that he did annoying things or that he wasn’t a good guy. He was by all means. He treated me like a princess. I felt loved and he made me feel alive when we were together. When I say that we weren’t the same type of people I am meaning in the way of what we wanted to get out of life. I often compare it to the way we were raised. Which isn’t something I would like to say that I judge of someone, but in some sense I have to admit that aspect can affect my relationship with another. I by no means had an easy upbringing. My family had hardships. We didn’t live in a nice neighborhood. We lived paycheck to paycheck. I wouldn’t hold that against someone else. When I say “the way we were raised,” I am referring to the certain lessons, values, and morals that my parents taught to me growing up. Honestly, how can you be with someone in that way that you don’t even value the same things in life. Who I am and how I want to live my life comes from those lessons I was taught. Certain things that I based my life around he would mock. He wasn’t my reality slap. That was the fear and regret I felt when I thought I was pregnant. Having that scare and realizing how stupid it is to let yourself go that far to even be in that situation with someone that you knew you didn’t want to be anything more then a fling. That was my reality slap. I realized that how I was living wasn’t living at all. The road I was traveling down that I thought was me being alive was just me being reckless and careless. I was actually living a life that I always said that I wouldn’t. I realized that the time I spent with him knowing that I didn’t want him for life I took it away from spending it getting ready for the guy I wanted for life. That when the only reason I should date someone is if I see potential of spending forever with them. After that I stepped back from my life and took one of those hard looks at it. I subtracted the bad and added what I truly needed which was God. I spent less time out with my friends and more time with him. I had never felt more alive then I did when I grabbed ahold of his hands again. I saw myself making moments with my family and laughing more.  I guess you  learn the meaning of being alive a little more as time goes by with the more life you live. I know for me being alive is made up of every moment of memory i have made with the people I adore.

 

 

 

my safe place

I write this blog to let out my inner thoughts when I don’t know how to or whenever I cant speak the words I want to say but I have recently experienced a situation that I have always known is something that happens on a daily basis, but just not in my world. When I log on to write I usually have a sense of the words I want to write but with this I don’t even know how to begin. It has been two weeks since it has happened and my mind is still replaying that day over and over again. It is on constant replay. I cant even bring myself to say let alone write the words that happen. It happened to my mom. With that being said let me give you a background into my moms character. She is the woman who picks up homeless people knowing the evil in this world. She still does it. She will stay in contact with them bring them food especially on the holidays. She is one of the reasons why I have a positive attitude towards life and have the faith that I do. She gives her last to her four kids and even to a complete stranger. She hugs everyone and everyone is sweetie. She is the definition of a southern belle. She goes over and beyond for anyone and everyone. People call her for advice or for help. She has such a strong heart that people that barely know her feel comfortable enough to call her talk for hours ask for help and pray with her. She is a blessing in all aspects. She is someone that I have seen conquer all mountains that are in her path with a smile on her face. God has thrown curve balls at her many times to test her strength and each time its without fail that even if she doesn’t succeeded the first or second time; she will keep on fighting until she is on the other side. I have never seen my mom so broken, so scared, just not full of life as she always is. When I woke up that morning I knew something was wrong. The light in her eyes wasn’t burning as bright. I could feel that something terrible had happened. When I asked her; her response was ” Nothing is wrong babygirl. Momma is just tired. ” I knew that it had to be horrible for her to lie to me knowing I know her like the back of my hand. That morning she came and attempted to wake me up a few times but I just rolled over. She asked me not to go into work so I could stay with her but I went in. I thought that maybe she was just tired. When I got home I thought I would take my niece to the store so she could sleep some. That night when I got home I went straight to bed. That’s when my dad woke me up balling his eyes out and told me what had happened.Instantly I was in tears. I ran to her and just held her. She didn’t deserve what happened. She didn’t deserve to be robbed of her security. She is the most safe person I know. My dad had just left for work that morning and she usually comes back to bed locks the door and just stays inside until I am awake. She didn’t that morning. She went outside to grab something out of the car when he came from behind. What was I doing while this horrible event was happening? Asleep. Peacefully in bed. My four year old niece just two bed rooms away. The front door was wide open. I keep replaying the what ifs. I know its not ever a good thing because we cant go back and fix them. I am usually the first to say that if I could go back and change anything that I wouldn’t change a thing but if you were to ask me now. I wouldn’t hesitate to change that experience. I cant. So now I am left with the what ifs. What if I were to of woken up and noticed the door was open and stopped him? What if he would have killed her and he came inside to my niece and myself? What if I was outside with her and he just stayed away? What if I would have woken up and my mom just be gone and the front door open? What if I called 911 and held him there with my gun pointed him and the police arrived and took him away? What if I could have been awake and kept her from just going outside? What if I would have woken up or stayed home that maybe she wouldn’t have waited an entire day to tell us anything? What if after what if after what if. We have lived here for 25 years. Even though it was out of my moms character to be outside no one can blame her for feeling safe in a neighborhood that she has spent most of her life. I cant blame myself and I don’t because if I was meant to wake up God would’ve woken me up. It happened and I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason but why did this have to happen? Especially to a person like my mom. I cant sleep through the nights anymore. I toss and turn replaying it. People say that people that do crimes like that typically come back to the scene so what if I am sleeping and he comes back. I cant and wont let that happen again. I will say I am and will continue to wear that on my shoulders. God lets everything happen for a reason and during that time he proved it to be true once again. We saved a newborn puppy from being killed about a year ago. He is a little dog. Not no killer for sure. He sleeps inside every night. That little puppy had the wrath of God in him that morning when he heard my mom screaming. He ran outside and started attacking him. Which led to him getting frustrated and running away. A little dog that’s probably not even 15 pounds not only saved my moms life but in cruel honest reality saved my nieces life along with my own. A year ago we thought he ran into our yard so we could save him but in reality God sent him to us because he knew what satan was planning two weeks ago. Its been two weeks and day by day I see the light in my moms eyes come back. Slowly but surely. We are all afraid. We don’t go outside unless we have our guns on us and without another person. After dark none of venture outside. Every man we see that usually we would give a friendly wave to maybe even a smile; now is someone that it could have been. It was my mom that it happened to and I feel like I am more scared than anyone else. The mornings before it happened I had been leaving for work at the same time it happened. On routine. The houses behind us had said that they noticed in the past few days maybe a week a man wondering the woods around the houses and the streets. We found a spot in the woods behind our house that looked like someone had tore down branches and had a few drinks. A place that he could see us but we couldn’t see him. The cops had said that since I had been leaving that time daily the past week that it could have been that he was waiting for me but mom went outside first. He knew who’s cars belonged to who to know who was home and who had left. He knew the times that people left the house. He knew that I was home with my mom. Frankly, he didn’t find me a threat to his plan. I hate that. Maybe he was waiting for dad to leave so he could come inside and God sent mom out so that wouldn’t have  happened because he knew he was sending our dog to save her. I will never know the reasons or the answers to my what ifs until I meet the man upstairs one day. I just know that I am grateful more than anything that none of us meet him that day and we still have one another to lean on for support. I feel thankful but I feel scared. No, I am scared. I feel like he knew who, what, when, how he was going to do it because he had been watching us. And we didn’t even know it. I feel like a target. I feel belittled. I feel like my safe place isn’t safe anymore. Which it isn’t. At least not in my eyes. I wake up check my gun, unload it, load it, check my windows, lock my doors, on repeat. We haven’t left my mom alone since it has happened. Someone is always here with her. That includes me. When everyone else has work and I don’t I am here. I feel like a joke because I am more scared than she is. A person walking by is automatically a danger. I keep my gun next to me. I find myself acting brave around my mom and it kills me because she is who I run to when I am scared. Now its supposed to be the other way around and she keeps asking me to be strong. I smile and say of course mom. When I am praying the entire time for God to keep danger away. I myself have found myself gaining my courage back day by day but in reality I am still scared beyond belief. I want him caught and taken away. I want to move. Even though what happened happens everywhere, everyday. I still want to move. I want to sell the car get a new one and run basically. I wasn’t raised that way. I was raised to be fearless. I usually would tell you all that I am. I don’t blink to danger. I know God is with me within me and is watching me. Whom shall I fear if I have the power of God by me but satan has tricks to get into peoples live when we wont let him in ourselves. He uses other people to do his dirty work. Before i walked fearless, before that “man” steal my peace of mind. He stole my safe place. He stole my moms safe place. He stole our ability to find the positive in all and walk without fear. I hate it. I hate that day. I hate not waking up for her. I hate not feeling safe. I hate that he is out walking around. I hate that it happens everyday. I hate him.

I just want my mom to have the light back in her eyes. I want our safe place to be safe.

When it happened I saw a side of me that wanted to hurt a man and to make him suffer. Now I find myself praying that for the same man that stole my safe place. I pray for my family above anything for comfort and peace and strength. I pray for that man to find the grace of our God and to change his ways so he doesn’t hurt any other. I pray that God works inside of him to turn himself in. I find myself praying that God has mercy on his soul the day they come face to face. I pray that I wont be the reason why they meet sooner than planned. I pray that Gods light shines through us even more.

I pray for all the girls in the world that have had this happen to them.

trying to make it

You always hear about how college kids work crazy amounts of jobs or just plain crazy jobs to get by while going to school and the people who say those things are completely correct.

I go to school full time and I work full time at my church. Saturdays are my only “me” days. Even with doing that I still seem to end up taking side jobs that “normal” people would run from.

I love children and I love that I get to work them almost everyday but with working with children you get to know their parents and sometimes that leads to one of two things or at times both. One… the parents love you and want you to babysit. two… they highly “dislike” you and drop the kids off and go so we don’t have to make awkward small talk.. finally, three….. some love you and some highly “dislike” you.

Thank God that so far in 5 years a majority of my parents seem to love me.

which means….. I get asked to babysit a lot…. and as a broke college kid.. its hard to say no. its hard to say no in general based on just the type of person I am.

so that means since 6:30 this morning  until 5:30 today I will be over at a old coworkers house watching her three kiddos while she is at a teaching conference. 10 hours….! i love their mom and I would do anything for her but she is crazy. I was over here 10 hours yesterday and when I pull up this morning I notice that there are bikes sitting out/ I come inside and asked her husband if they went on a bike ride yesterday after i left and he smiles as he is saying “Those are left out for you. She told the kids that yall were going on a bike ride today.”

[confused but serious face on]  I slowly smile a little and say that sounds fun. My real thoughts were ” you gotta be damn kidding me.. it aint enough that im here for 10 hours hanging out with two 8 year olds and a  year old or that its 106 degrees outside but you tell them a damn bike ride. damnnnnnnnn lana you know ive packe don a few extra pounds and im not very good at cardio.” lol

lets just say im happy no one can hear my mind.

for three days i will be here and after i get out of here today i go straight into my actual work untl 9 to be back here at 6:30am lol

why cant the cost of living be simple so i don’t have to do crazy things like watch 3 kids that aren’t mine for 10 hours and then a pull a extra shift for my actual work.

i mean i like to sleep too!

do you ever

Do you ever get that feeling of adventure? Like you just want to get up and go find somewhere new sit down and soak up the new surroundings. You just want to take deep breaths and dig your toes a little deeper into the sand or let your hands feel the wind. The atmosphere of a new place is just all together different. Like the air is lighter somehow. The wind is smoother. The sand is colder. You just get a over powering feeling of pure bliss. Then you just get that little crooked smile because everything else in the world has just disappeared and faded away; the noise of everyone is mute and its just you and the world. You get the chance to escape from everyday reality that is sometimes overwhelming and remember the beauty of the messy world we live in. I like to think that feeling is God surrounding us. I crave for that feeling. The feeling of pure bliss. I find myself sometimes daydreaming of just me with the windows down the air blowing down a road that ive never seen before; finding a place that no one will know me at and just scream and have my arms wide open spinning; sitting or laying in a filed of grass watching it dance in the wind or standing on a rock looking out into the unknown. Do you ever wonder about the wind in the places that are unknown?

If I got the chance I would fill my truck up be in my pjs with the windows down and drive until I ran out of gas and feel the wind.

stand still

why is it that I feel like I am stuck? I am 22 years old. I work full time and go to school full time so why is it that I feel like I am running in the same place? No matter how fast I am going or how many things I do to run faster at the end of the end I am standing in the same place. I want to be able to go as I please. take care of what I need to. relax when I want to. smile all the time. but how am I supposed to be able to do that when I am sharing a car with my parents and what I do has to go around what they do. I don’t even feel like I am moving my feet to go anywhere. often I think about how dreadful it is that sometimes im sitting at home wasting a day away when I could be out doing something. the world often comes to mind as well. they place laws and rules on us like vehicle inspection and registeration. I mean I know I didn’t ask for it but I have to do it or I get a ticket and with too many of those I could end up arrested. but if we are demanded to do something such as those why do they cost so much money. I cant stand the world that does nothing but demand. the cost of living in the world today is out of this world outrageous. I am thinking now that maybe I am doing something wrong. maybe I am handling life wrong. am I supposed to work all day every day to pay for these things that I don’t even get the time to enjoy. I also don’t understand insurance all together. we today have to have insurance for anything we own so we can be protected. car insurance, house. phone, computer. why do we treat matieral things as they were a child. you have to take everything for check ups and if something is wrong you have to take it to the “doctor” to fix it. and if you don’t have insurance you get screwed over because they do it half ass not 100% where you will either have to bring it back or feel like u have to get insurance or they wont even touch it. half of those things I need to do but cant because I am stuck at home because I cant get my vehicle inspected because I have to pay for food gas books to fix my vehicle computer and everything. I just cant stand it. you work in this world to either have everything and not ever enjoy it or you stay where your at. I just feel like I have so much inside of me that I can do and I have barely begun.

pencils

throughout school I have a hundred little things that I do to keep myself from losing sanity. I’m going to sound like a typical girl but its the truth I love to shop but not like clothes but for little knickknacks for the house. That makes me sound like an old married wife trying to escape from my crazy kids. anyways as its getting closer to go back to school to keep my sanity I went shopping today and I think stores like to remind people its back to school time to get our nerves all up and anxiously over spend because were not thinking straight. I go shopping to get my mind off school then BOOM big sign that reads BACK TO SCHOOL DONT FORGET YOUR PENCIL with a thousand packages of pencils. Really I am a picky pencil person. I have to have mechanical and regular and with extra erasers and for the regular ones the soft pink erasers. its weird but being in college made me that way. who know you could you have a favorite pencil. but still after I saw that sign it made me freak out my mind started going through everything I needed to get and I swear to ya I walked around every aisle probably making a new list in my head down each one causing me to leave without a single thing I went looking for and without even a pencil. I wish they could keep their signs to themselves.

new years for a college kid.

the start of a new year means more than just a chance to start over and the start of new goals. it means to a majority of 22 year olds Christmas break is almost over and Spring semester is coming up. Which means you have to find your brain again dust it off and plug it back in. Its not like you can even wait to do that until the day before class starts; you need a good week maybe even two to get everything ready for the next five months. Starting with making sure your classes are still the classes you planned on taking. BAD mix up last semester. Finding all the books required for your classes. If you have finical aid you have to do a book advance to even get your books plus making sure your aid covers the classes you are taking if not finding a way to make up some change really quick before deadline. Getting all your supplies for the semester. Getting parking permits or any other permits. then getting anything that you just need to get through the next five months without losing your mind. I actually feel bad for the freshman coming in. At I am a junior and know what I need to get or need to do. Supplies, permits, bottles of wine, books. The list goes on. Its not that I dread school I actually really like it its just after the first month the teachers lose their fire on being interesting to keep the kids in their class so they become boring. The other students go from being there everyday to their natural roles. Either skipping classes, sleeping, showing up half way through class, sitting at the front being a brown nose, or me the kind of student who is kind of there cares but doesn’t raise their hand that basically comes does what I need to and leave. So you have a month to make a friend for the next five months or a month to not make a friend and be silent and doodle for five months. The next two weeks are basically a slow ticking timebomb until you say goodbye to sleep, being normal, friends, your social life, freedom and saying hello to your friends that you know all to well headache, all-nighters, sticky note, energy drinks, sleepless weeks, being alone, constantly holding that conversation with yourself wondering what your friends from your old social life, sleeping for “fun” and so much more exciting things. My high school counselor deserves raise because she completely made college out to be something high and mighty, fun, parties all the time, basically high school and you can wear your pajamas. It is fun, and it is nothing like high school and you can wear your pajamas. Everything else is not what college is about. Well it is like a four year long party if you can handle that plus keeping up with college.  let the countdown begin to losing my sanity. Can wait. Story of a college kid.