sleepingarchangel

[sleepingarchangel]

A maiden reached the edge of the lavender glade, facing a grand forest of ethereal pines. Inhaling the spark of the needles drew her out of comfort and into curiosity. Now she wasn’t in comfort – the little miss was in a labyrinth – an infinity of turns and dives with an edge of fear laced with joy. Such a strange feeling to be elated to be so afraid of such unknown.

[sleepingarchangel]

Butterflies vs Fruit flies

Nothing to write about, but so many thoughts to express. They’re like butterflies, or fruit flies, or maybe both. Thoughts of all colors and sizes. Some are nuisances, others are beautiful and welcome to rest in your mind as long as they want. But the thoughts move when they want to, and the beautiful thought may only stay for a moment before it’s gone – and you’re left with a pleasant feeling that something wonderful just visited you. The nuisances… the less desirable thoughts… they hover just out of reach but always present. Small enough to hear, but not directly see. Black in color, and unknown as to their purpose. They exist on the edges of the mind… and no one knows why. You may wish they would leave, or you may be used to their presence, accepting them for as they are: fruit flies. And nothing will change them into butterflies.

[sleepingarchangel]

My mom used to tell me people with depression were selfish and were in their current state of mind because they only thought of themselves.

Mother raised me to be selfless. She raised me to be kind. She raised me to love God, my faith, my family. She raised her daughter.

Did she raise me to develop depression too? Of course not. Anxiety wasn’t in the homeschooler’s agenda either. They kind of just happened as I emerged from the safety of the homeschooler’s bubble.

In a daze, time passed, and it came over me like a floating white cloud… white and fluffy, but still blocking out the sun. I kept my head down, not noticing. Clouds are expected. Nothing new. While me head was down, the white turned to gray, and the gray turned to black, and the sun would barely peep through. The days it would, it was like a dream, a hallucination that heaven’s eyes were on me.

One day I finally looked up… where was the sun? How long had the cloud been there? I looked at my skin. Without the sun, it had turned thin, white, papery. The smallest drops of rain melted through it – and tears were more painful than they had ever been before.

I can’t reach the cloud – can’t tell it to move away – to give me my sunshine back. Maybe, every once in a while, I get a taste of someone else’s sunshine, but it’s theirs, not mine. I don’t get to keep it, and I can’t stay in it, or my cloud might infect it. Too much time spent around them might ruin it for the both of us.

I don’t know what to do with my cloud. When did it become mine? Why is it mine?

Now I just wait under my cloud, content in the moments it doesn’t rain, and dreading the smell of nitrogen and ozone right before it does.

I wait, hoping it will disappear one day, as normal clouds do… but this one… I’m afraid it never will.

[sleepingarchangel]

Waking up felt nice – like I was alive and in the real world again. I lingered in bed, waiting for life to give me a reason to roll out. I thought about what school I had today. Then nothing felt possible. Everything seemed impossible. Why did I think I could be a healthcare professional? Why do I think I can be creative? Why do I try at anything? Everything that I do is wrong. My entire existence is wrong. I should quit school. I should just lay here forever, scrolling through pictures and videos of people who have their lives together.

I feel alone in it all. I’m two years older than my classmates. Everything feels unnatural. I’m alone. I don’t know how to ask for help from a peer. I never feel like I know what I am doing. I think everyone looks at me like I’m not going to make it. I’m not going to graduate and I’m going to be a dumb nurse if I do. I feel inferior to my peers. They all work so hard and practice and study… and I’m just… here. I have a hard time following them in their thoughts and they’re so much faster in thinking. Like – I have nothing to offer. 

Waking up doesn’t feel so nice any more. 

[sleepingarchangel]

one of the top places to nap

[sleepingarchangel]

Th - THAT girl... yeah

I want to be THAT girl, but THIS girl can’t get past the cold winter mornings.

[sleepingarchangel]

Dear L.B.B.

Dear L.B.B.,

today I had another older adult so kindly warn me about what I will have to be putting up with if I get married. Might I add that I am currently going into my fifth year of dating the same wonderful man. I do intend to marry him. I told him if he doesn’t give me his last name I will come after him and make sure no one else gets it.

Anyway, this isn’t the first time the generation before me has so graciously given me their unsolicited warnings (or advice) concerning marriage - and quite frankly it’s all quite discouraging. I wish there was simply more positive things they could say to balance it out as well, but everyone makes marriage sound like a trap (kind of like growing up). The divorce rates alone can convince anyone they’re better off alone. I used to judge people who don’t believe in marriage, and now I think I understand.

What else I’m supposed to think when married couples of 20 years or more (and divorcees) make remarks such as “now remember when you get married, you can’t...” or “you’ll have to put up with _____ for the rest of your life - so what are you willing to put up with?”

My favorite: “oh you’re so young... don’t get married yet - you have so much left to experience,”

Thank you Cindy. I now feel like my life will in fact be ending at the altar instead of beginning a beautiful new chapter. 

It’s downright depressing. I can’t tell whether I should be ashamed or not that I’ve cried just thinking about how many times I’ve heard a jolly rant about a spouse. Maybe it was lighthearted - or maybe it wasn’t... it probably wasn’t... even though it was told as a joke. It was a comical story to make all the other married people in the room laugh because it’s so relatable. SO relatable. Scarily relatable. Will I be able to relate one day? Do I want to be able to relate?

See, their generation is so quick to judge ours for the increasing rates of divorces, single parents, or simply those who have lost the belief in the concept or marriage at all. But why would anyone of my generation want to get married after hearing how their parents and mom’s friends talk about it? 

Yeah, that generation did a bang-up job promoting the beautiful covenant of marriage - a union of two people. I can’t wait to have a wedding where everyone gets hyped for the celebration, the dress, and oh wow look - what an amazing venue - when I know there select people thinking:

“I hope they make it past five years - those are the hardest” 

“Ha, you mean ten, years,”

“I guess we’ll just wait and see how long they’ll last”

“You know, they’re hardest struggle will be...”

I get it - there are struggles in marriage. Yes, I want to be prepared for them. But what do I have to look forward to? Tell me what your favorite thing is about being married. Tell me a routine that you and your spouse have that brings you both joy. Tell me about one thing that you appreciate about your spouse.

You know, the interesting thing is that even though I hear all these things and I see all these terrible marital relationships and broken families because of choices of a spouse, I still hold onto hope that my story will be different. I hope that I can be the wife one day that gives a little hope to the next generation and say ‘yeah, marriage is beautiful and a blessing in my life and let me tell you exactly why,’

[sleepingarchangel]

Wishful thinking

Oh to have the aesthetics of all the other tumblr profiles and take great photos and draw beautiful art or provide wonderful art or literature... I wonder what it's like to post scientific information or beautiful literature.

Will this page ever develop into something like them?

[sleepingarchangel]

Noise cancelling headphones/earbuds are incredible until I’m ignored while trying to compliment a stranger on their outfit. I swear, three times today I tried to say ‘pardon me’ or ‘excuse me’ or ‘I like...’, to someone in passing, and it normally ends with ‘aaaannndd you can’t hear me because you have airpods in... well that’s awkward - now I’m just talking to myself.’

The tenth of my personality that’s a social butterfly is sobbing on a street corner somewhere.

[sleepingarchangel]

Out of place

I love love love learning the science of the body and anatomy and how to take care of it - but sometimes feel out of place with me peers (who are in my same major). Sometimes I feel like people take things too seriously... or maybe I’m not taking things seriously enough? I mean... I’m passing the same classes and tests... right? I’m more like... can’t we make this fun - have fun with the content?

[sleepingarchangel]

I appreciate the people I can walk in complete silence next to and nothing feels wrong - just peaceful and content.

[sleepingarchangel]

Down then up

Wow, last night I was texting in all caps saying f**k them, sobbing into my pillows and obsessed with the thought of never getting out of my situation. 24 hours late, I’m still in the situation but I’m dancing around the living room with my favorite jams looking like a happy fool. 

Genuinely can’t tell if it’s hormones or emotional damage whacking up my moods. 

[sleepingarchangel]

I’m convinced I eat so much sugar not for the taste, but because my body is craving a boost of dopamine so I’m not so sad. Not sure how to fix this…

[sleepingarchangel]

I wonder… if on the days where you don’t feel like existing - are those the days where the world needs you to exist the most? But is the pressure too great so we shrink back?

[sleepingarchangel]

Sad

How do I even start to talk – where do the words to describe how I feel, and think, come from?

It’s emotional exhaustion I feel. I feel deep scarring and pain and grief from a childhood I only remember in snapshots and three second playbacks. I’m angry at myself for feeling so sad. What is there to be sad about? You live a privileged and blessed life. There is nothing to be sad about. I have no right.

And the more I’m angry at myself for being sad, the sadder I become. The grief digs itself deeper. The scars grow larger. The heaviness becomes so much it crushes my spirit and soul to the point where my throat stiffens against my will and tears pool in my eyes. It takes hours upon years of control to keep them from spilling over.

You have nothing to be sad about. You live a blessed and privileged life.

So, daddy wasn’t always there for you – so what? You didn’t care at the time. So, he didn’t see your last performance – so what? He didn’t come home when he said he would. He didn’t pause a meeting to speak with you. He didn’t see you – really see you. He gave you everything you wanted – except time. He shouted when we didn’t clean, and then cleaned for us in an angry frenzy. But he’s gotten a little better since then, so why can’t you be happy now? You’re twenty-one years old – he doesn’t have to see you for you to be happy. You don’t need his emotional support. You don’t need him to understand you anymore – you’re an adult. You should be happy, everything is better now… mostly.

You understand his childhood wasn’t happy, that his mom cried too much, shouted too much – emotions became a regrettable concept… and so formed the emotional distance. Financial provision and security were all that mattered. Get rid of the debt, get that car, get a new house, feed the kids – go back to work. Hours of work. You eventually understand. It’s ok. But…

Mommy, when is daddy coming home?

I don’t know.

You were too little to understand, but you were happy then. Why can’t you be happy now?

Now you’re an adult. You find out they hadn’t planned on having you. She didn’t even know if she wanted a family… at least not right away. Well, she got four of us. She did amazing raising us. But some of it makes sense now, though, doesn’t it? The shouting and the broken promises and miscommunications. The:

Daddy is tired, sweetie.

Oh, ok!

You used to prance off, ready to talk or ask the question the next day. And then the next day came, and the next day, and the next… and the next… and then a week… then two weeks… which turned into months… now years…

My last dance is at a talent show this weekend… you tell mom. And then I’m done for good.

It didn’t bother you that neither of them showed up. They didn’t have to, did they? It didn’t matter, right? Your little girl graduated and she’s grateful for the laptop you gave her!

You can be happy, can’t you? Look at all they gave you.

Sometimes you wondered if you were really wanted. You caused a financial burden, an emotional burden, a road-block to their goals. Well, you’re here now living a blessed and privileged middle-class white citizen life. You can be happy for that, can’t you? It’s normal to feel like running away sometimes, right?

You’ll always be their daughter. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re happy right?

Yes. I’m happy. Happy birthday to me.

Wow, you’re 22. Where’d the time go? He beams with a smile.

The office, dad. Thank you for all you’ve given me! I love my room and clothes and stuff!

Yes… I am… happy…

Right?

I’m blessed and privileged.

How dare I feel sad.

[sleepingarchangel]

You know the worst part about being a workaholic? You forget it doesn’t affect only you.

[sleepingarchangel]

We are one click away from Google informing us we are sick with a deadly disease, or from lists and lists of inspirational quotes that make you want to print out pages and pages of them to pin up on a cork board.