Dying to Live
Looking back on my yesterdays
As a child at heart and frame
I was sapling,
Frail and weak
Fell apart at a gentle touch of a “no”
Crumbled within when a head turned away
And every time it happened,
I died just a little
While I tucked my enervated heart a little deeper inside
To hide in shame as it recovered from its failures,
To try and fill in what was drained.
Renewing is never easy.
Pulling myself together,
Getting back up
Is always hard, especially when I’m pushed down
Over and over again.
Picking up the pieces and starting with a fresh beginning
Is always easier said than done.
But it helps.
Each time I’ve staggered and tripped
Been knocked over and collapsed to the ground
Broken by the storms of life
Abandoned by those whom I thought cared,
I died just a little
To myself,
Slowly learning again to give up a little bit more of me
To make room for something so much better for me
Someone so much greater than me
To turn the doorknobs of my heart,
Opening the doors a little wider
Allowing me to see a little more
More of the bigger picture
That I had not seen before.
Being turned down from anything
By anyone
Slaps me against the cheek
Lands me on the ground
Slams the door in my face
And opens a window not too far,
Letting in a breeze that cools my temper
And shines a new light upon me
That draws in new strength and hope
As I die to myself to live for others.
I am becoming a tree,
With my thick trunk enduring longer through every storm,
Every shower,
Every drizzle,
And rooting myself deeper
Whenever I’m turned down or away,
Into the soil of what is more important in life
As someone older at heart and frame,
Looking forward to new tomorrows.
So I came across this when I was cleaning my room a little bit. It was in one of my old notebooks that I'd carry around with me everywhere. Something that shocked me a little (which really shouldn't have) was how many poems I used to write when I was younger. Most of them, such as this one, may seem a little on the too-emo side, but at least I wrote. I liked writing. That was what surprised me, I guess. I had forgotten how much I used to just...write.
Reading some of my old poems/writings and some other small social-image-issues that have come up numerous times this summer made me realize how much I'm strangely inconsistent with how I respond to people's opinions. When it comes to how I respond to my physical image, I'm extremely resistent to ideas such as losing weight for the sake of losing weight, painting my nails, getting tanned, or plucking my eyebrows. And I don't care what people think. But when it comes to other things - like my writing - I've let my fear of what other people would think so much that I've practically stopped doing it altogether, even to a point where I don't do it for myself.
Isn't that weird? Aren't I weird?
I still get lots of ideas of random things - possible story lines, character traits, poems when I'm passionate, blog posts, or ideas for other things - but for some reason I've fallen out of the habit of picking up my pen or typing on my computer, and fallen into the habit of thinking, "Well, that's a stupid idea," or, "No one would like reading about that." It's really quite terrible for me if you think about it. A writer that doesn't passionately write anymore?
I've even told myself I would get into the habit of freewriting furiously every morning after spending some quiet time with God so that I'd at least be writing
something. But I've been telling myself that for years now. I probably just need a little push in the right direction.
Thankfully, I've been working on a new song this summer. The idea came up one night when I got really frustrated about some of my relationships with people and not really knowing what to do about it, but at same time knowing exactly what to do about it. Wow, that's confusing. Maybe when I'm done I'll post it up. I'm pretty much done, I just need to let it sit for a few days to make sure there aren't any little things I don't like and may want to change. That usually happens in the chorus...not my favorite section because it's where it gets tricky with sounding cliche or like some other song that already exists. I'm a verse kind of girl.
Okay, that was a longer post than anticipated. I would've had a post about my wonderful family vacation that I just returned from a few days ago, but my computer is being difficult again and has been under construction (backing up video files onto my bigger harddrive and taking forever because it keeps shutting down and stopping the process in the middle of the night) for the past couple of weeks. Lame, I know. Believe me, my dad and I are very frustrated with it. I hope it finishes soon...I'm returning to campus soon!
I hate you, storage. I hate you.
