… and just like that, a very short but powerful 47 second speech by Tyler Perry that I just happened to stumble across tonight became a part of my life story via this Diary because it IS the very short but powerful story of all the bittersweet and beautiful seasons of my extraordinary life.
… and thus, the fourth but probably not last appearance of one of my ultimate “Death Punches” to the heart life songs which is the very first thing that came to my mind when I was listening to this 47 seconds of greatness. For those of you who haven’t heart this beautiful speech yet, know that the “less than a minute” you’ll spend listening to it will be more than worth your investment. ENJOY!
Okay, so maybe the lyrics to this song don’t really speak to the “32 pennies” epiphany I had this weekend while driving home from Nashville. Even so, these words do apply:
Thirty two pennies in a Ragu jar … that’s all I’ve got to my name … but I love her and she loves me … to the pennies it’s all the same.
Meanwhile, and might I just add how frigging cool the power of “music alchemy” is once again? And last, but not least …
To My Kids,
Regardless of the road we’ve walked together and all the sauce your Dad and I spilled on the proverbial table of your lives, always know that “I loved him and he loved me”. You were both born to this world from love.
Although we may not have had the entire dollar to give each other and sometimes even you two, please know with every shred of your beings that your dad and I both did the very best we could with the set of broken utensils from our own childhoods to make you the best damn sauce we could and fill your childhood piggy banks with as many pennies as possible.
If God is the God I know He is and He continues not to forsake me, I have to believe that each of you will add even better ingredients and more and shinier pennies to your own families’ pots of sauce one day. Just “take the best parts of us“, lock them away without the key, and know that win, lose, or draw, we are always by your sides … now … and eternally. I love you.
~ “BMITW”
… and if I die with a penny in my pocket, then I guess that’s all I need!
… ’cause if someone where to ask me, “Cat, if you could only pick ONE legacy to leave behind one day, what would it be?”, THIS would be what it would be:
When the lights go down, the last curtain has dropped, and I’ve taken my final bow, I hope they’ll all say that the ONLY thing I ever wanted to keep was everything I shared, and that when they speak of me, ‘because of Mama I have a good heart’ will be my legacy. “But above all things, I would want them to know that I will ALWAYS love them”.
By the way, if you don’t already know that I was crying my fucking eyes out as I wrote those powerful words, well, then you don’t know me that well at all. Meanwhile, if you know anything of the true and living QUEEN on Earth LEGEND that Dolly Parton is, and that it’s not her gazillion dollar music empire, badass fucking theme park, or the world class resort that’s literally up the street from the SHACK where HER Mama built the legacy that earned them BOTH the crown. It’s her heart!
In being honest, although I do like her music, I’d be lying my ass off if I said I was a true, blue, hardcore fan. I am not. I am, however, a HUGE fan of her kind heart and the magic of her philanthropy. That woman would probably give the tiny little shirt off her back to someone who needed it, which is ironic, since another celebrity I love, respect, and adore who ALSO happens to love Miss Dolly, would likewise give the shirt right off his tattooed back to someone who needed or even just wanted it. In fact, he’s actually done it before. But I’ve digressed. It’s not what you have, my friends … it’s WHO you are and the goodness in your heart that builds a legacy. “To Whom Much Is Given” …
Will you know if it’s happiness you see? Will you feel a different side of me? And if you let it go, would you come back to haunt me? Are you doing the best that you can?We can wait here for tomorrow, or we can find ourselves right now.Think about all that we’ve wasted trying to figure all this out.I know it’s not too late to turn it all into something beautiful.
Can you see The Light still needs to shine inside of you through the windows you can’t find? Will you let me go? I’m tired of hiding. I’m trying to find my way. We can wait here for tomorrow, or we can find ourselves right now. Think about all that we’ve wasted trying to figure all this out. I know it’s not too late to turn it all into something beautiful.
All you need is a chance to believe.
{Words Adapted by The Real Cat Williamson}
~ Love, Me!
Well, yeah, Me. The Light still does shine inside of me … and no, I will never let you go. We’re The REAL Cat Williamson … “Warrior. Motivator. SURVIVOR;”. WE GOT THIS!
No, it didn’t kill me. It only make me stronger. I really would rather capsize than chase an old horizon, because the old one’s are behind me, and looking back at them will never allow me to continue growing forward and cross over.
I cannot tell you how thankful I was for the multitude of texts, phone calls, and messages I received after posting this live video moment of real “real”. It meant more to me than anyone could know. It wasn’t until I picked up my phone during a respite on the floor of his closet and saw all the supportive messages that I realized how much I really do “need people” after all. In being honest, at this stage in my life, sometimes I think I don’t. I went to sleep literally “feeling” the love and vibes that had been flowing my way tugging at my soul strings throughout the process all day.
Meanwhile, yes, I really did “punch today in the face”, so, wearing this shirt out tonight was epic! Wait! What’s that you say? “Cat, what does that even MEAN?”Oh, yah! “Punching today in the face” is a “Wheelchair Dad thing. I won’t go much into it, as I really want you to just click on the link and find out what it means for yourself. Sufficed to say, though, Dan and Andrea Kotter and their six beautiful babies who I recently stumbled across have managed to truly “punctuate” and inspire me in a profound way. I cannot tell you how proud I was to ROCK this hoodie while out with my family last night after all was said and done. I’m even prouder of the fact that I even went out in the first place. There was time in my life when treading water with such heavy emotions would have not only drowned me, but found me locked inside my room for the days and even weeks to follow.
Truth being told, while I’d always heard that going through and finally letting go of your deceased loved one’s belongings was one of the, if not the hardest part of the whole grief process, it wasn’t until I was sitting on the floor of “the king’s closet” that I realized just how true it really is. It was like he’d just just died all over again, except that parting with his things made the reality more real. No, he’s never coming home again.
My kids felt this “second death”, too, in a way, so, having them so close to my heart all day added even more diamonds to my tiara. The one “at my six” in the picture above? She’s the girl who’s stolen my son’s heart once and for all. Trust me when I say that she has his six, too, and getting go watch all the ways that she was there for him, not just today, but as usual, made my triumph in this even sweeter.
Perhaps the biggest irony in all of this was that years ago when it was time for me to let go of The Blaze Of Glory’s things, it was Zack who was there with me physically and emotionally. God, Himself, knows that at that juncture I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone. Just look at me know, though, with all this strength both the kings of my heart helped me find, “power and gracing” my way through it all like the true and living queen they left behind.
Just pick one thing, honey … the one thing that reminds you of him the most … and give it a place of honor …
… which is exactly why the do-rag you see hanging on the little cabinet in the video is also the first thing you see in this Diary entry. “Of Ghosts, And Kings, And Three“. It looks like it’s time for me to really start moving on, which is why I’m dropping both of these most powerful songs of my life in this entry.
That’s right, folks … “O” here we really are again. I’ve fallen UP in the fog once more as the great alchemy of music stepped in with its magic when I least expected it to wrap me in the most beautiful “grey high” blanket of rhapsody I never saw coming.
The songs that my son sends to me to tell me how he’s feeling are the diary of HIS perfection and they’re one of my most precious things in my life.
As I’ve already told my him, I love him more than words can say, and knowing that I’m his “Nettie” is amongst one of my utmost diamond encrusted treasures in this world. Today, as always, I’m thanking GOD for the literal hell that both he and his sister and I have all walked through and SURVIVED together, because without it, I’d have never be able to see the miracle I see through all this fog.
I saw a question posted on my Quora forum recently that asked: “How can imprisonment for insults be justified, considering no one has ever been killed by words, and no words can force somebody else to choose to do harm?”
With that, and in honor of the anniversary of “The Four Agreements” I love so much having first been published on this day in 1997, let’s go over “words” by reading through my response to that question:
Oh, but you couldn’t be more wrong, my friend. Someone “ever” HAS been killed by words, let me assure you of that. While words themselves cannot physically force someone to choose to do harm, they can, indeed, incite it. Both the spoken and written word are the womb from which good things are born, and the sword upon which many tragic tales have fallen. This is why every “word” should be chosen impeccably, and why, yes, some insults are, indeed, deserving of imprisonment. If the words one speaks can metaphorically imprison the person receiving them in internal turmoil and ACTUAL hell, and thus potentially even cause their death, so, too, should the person who speaks such such words be imprisoned.Long story short?Be sure to watch your mouth, lest you end up choking on the very same poison you spew into the atmosphere.By the way, this is especially important when it comes to the words we speak into the ears of children, be them our own children or someone else’s. Many are the children whose bodies physically grew into adulthood, but whose hearts, minds, spirits, and fledgling wings were physically MANGLED at the receiving end of careless “words”. How do I know this? I AM ONE OF THEM!
The song I’ve paired with this entry is from the perspective of a child who hid in closets while their mom and dad were not just murdering each other with “words”, BUT THEM AS WELL! Been there. Done that. Yes, it’s true, and I am brave enough to admit that not only was I, too, that kid hiding in the closet from sparring parents, but I later grew up to be one of those parents who ashamedly let subjected my babies to the war of words between their dad and I. So, whereas my Quora answer is obviously about the danger of not speaking impeccably in general, likewise are children MANGLED in the presence and crossfire of “words”.
Are we clear now, people? Good enough! In the meantime, make it a powerful “Four Agreements” kind of day, and for God’s sake PLEASE be impeccable with your words. They are not … I repeat – NOT … just “little toy guns”.
LITTLE TOY GUNS
In between the coats in the closet, she held on to that heart shaped locket. Staring at a family flawless … but it ain’t a pretty picture tonight. Mom and daddy just won’t stop it. Fightin’ at the drop of the faucet. Cuts through the walls catastrophic. She’s caught in the crossfire. Puts her hands over her ears … starts talking through the tears … she’s saying … she’s praying. I wish words were like little toy guns. No sting, no hurt no one. Just a bang bang rolling off your tongue. (I wish words were like little toy guns.) Yeah. No smoke. No bullets. No kick from the trigger when you pull it. No pain. No damage done. (I wish words were like little toy guns.) Wish there was a white flag waving, or that they were both just faking, and it was just a game they were playing, like shoot’em up cowboys. Leave the plastic pistols in the front yard, throw away the score card, and just turn off all the noise. I wish words were like little toy guns. Oh, I wish they didn’t cut like a knife. I wish they didn’t break you inside. I wish they didn’t bang bang make you wanna run, yeah. {Carrie Underwood}
I’ve long said that I’m an actual queen, because I truly am, but if history has taught me anything, it’s that a queen is only as powerful as the legacy she leaves, not the tiara that adorns her head. My children are my tiara, despite it being invisible. Likewise, are they every “FL colorless” diamond that encrusts it. They’re the echo of my voice that will surely linger on as my utmost gift to this world.
Take for instance this email I got today amidst an actual storm that was brewing in the atmosphere about something Gia had written to recognize and nominate one of her favorite teachers for an “Honored” teaching award:
Mike Rock is a counselor for students with learning disabilities or other struggles in their studies. For example, I have ADHD, and I get this class to get extra support with my schoolwork. Since the very beginning, Mr. Rock has gone above and beyond to help students in his class. Every class, he stands outside his door and greets each student personally, and asks how their day has been going, and tells them how happy he is that they are doing well, or that they are there that day. And always with a bright smile and kind voice, too. He is beyond patient, always remaining calm and kind even through the multitude of meltdowns and anger-outbursts that students have thrown at him because of their frustrations. He is deeply concerned with the wellbeing of his students. He remembers things that they say, be it a concert they are excited to go to, or that they have a loved one struggling. He doesn’t just stop at helping his students with their schoolwork. He is a teacher as much as he is a trusted friend. He talks with us about struggles we have and shows interest in the things we enjoy. One particular action stands out. On Friday, November 4th, there was a threat for severe weather in our area. School let out early, and as I was walking to leave the building, I caught Mr. Rock. He greeted me with a warm “Hello Gia!” (My nickname) and a smile. We were making small talk as we left, and I was talking about how my dad was picking me up, since I didn’t drive to school because my dad didn’t want me driving in the heavy rain. I complained about how despite my dad telling me that morning to bring an umbrella, I didn’t, and it was raining in sheets. As I was about to go out into the rain, he pulls out his umbrella and tells me he is going to walk me out to my dad. The umbrella is only big enough for one person, so I refused, saying “thank you so much! But you don’t have to do that. He is parked kind of far away!”. He insisted, so I let him (I really didn’t want to get soaked in the rain anyway. It was cold and windy. The entire way to my dad’s car, he held the umbrella over me while he got rained on. Out of his way, and in the pouring rain, he still made sure I got to my dad’s car safe and dry. When I got to the car, Mr. Rock told me to be safe, and I told him the same. My dad drove off. Mr. Rock’s car was in the opposite direction that I needed to go. This isn’t the only time that Mr. Rock has gone out of his way to be kind and considerate. He regularly supplies his classroom with students’ favorite candies, mints, and even fidget toys. All on his own, and without being asked. One time, he was gifted a box of expensive chocolate from the Ukraine from a friend. He took the box of chocolate and shared it with us. (It is a very small class. There’s only about 10 students). Teachers like Mr. Rock are few and far between. He brightens our days and is someone we can always count on to have a kind word to say, or just a positive, friendly attitude. He is truly an amazing teacher (He has single handedly raised student’s grades with his tutoring, support, and encouragement), and an admirable and good person. I know he deserves to be recognized.
My Mona Lisa couldn’t stop making me smile if she tried! She’s lifting others with her “beautiful infection”, and like her brother, never ceases to amaze me. If only you knew what she’s really been through, you, too, would fail to understand why she’s not a jaded teenager just looking for an excuse to become a toxic adult. She makes me proud every day, and it’s moments like these that are why.
There is no lie in her words about “Mr. Rock”. If only I could properly credit not just him, but the many other teachers and mentors that have supported and led her through the proverbial storm she’s been walking through since losing her dad and having to go through high school without him. Each one is a beacon of hope and a restoration of faith in humanity to not just her, but this widowed, single mom, as well. I literally cried my eyes out at the thought of this man walking my kid to the car with his umbrella over her head while he was getting soaked.
Gia, my princess, when the time finally comes for you to start reading this Diary, know that you truly are everything I hope to be when I grow up. No, you’re not perfect … you’re just a flesh and blood mortal like the rest of us. Besides, “perfection” would be boring, anyway. Still, sometimes I wonder if you really are from another planet, because the last time I checked, there seems to be a shortage of kids like you running around on this one. Lol, and you think that I’mthe real Wonder Woman? That’s funny, because I actually think it’s you!
If, as we both suspect, Dad really is watching all of this as you live out this dream he had for your life, surely he, too, was beaming with pride today as you lit a fire with your impeccable words. Please listen to this song again, because it was the first thing that came to my mind after I got the email from your school today. I love you, “Three”! ~ Mama
Indeed, dear ole Mr. Freud nailed that one right on the head! Might I add, though, that we should never try to outrun our own dark shadow, because that’s where our demons live. Believe it or not, sometimes we actually need those little fuckers around, for without them our egos truly would be the dark and tragic end of us. HELLO? Haven’t you ever watched Star Wars? Never mind. I’ve digressed.
Okay, where was I? Our demons are there to balance us; to challenge, humanize, and perfect us … not to be cast out to the abyss. They keep us honest, keep us real, and keep us on our toes. Those nasty little dark siders that ride around on our shoulders are there as a point of reference for the light and dark.
So, with that, I’m just thinking that what we really need to do is just tame them, train them, leash them, and maybe even give them a little space to do what they need to do from time to time in order to bring our souls full circle.
I thought it ended when I knew love’s perfect ache, but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.
The only way you can really fly is with the power and grace of a phoenix rising from its own ashes. If that means you have to become the arsonist who sets fire to the safety of your oh so sweetly delusional lullaby, so be it. You’ll be alright … I PROMISE!
In the meantime, HAPPY HALLOWEEN to all you beautifully imperfect twisted ones like me out there who have truly made peace with your “little pets”. Tonight of all nights, be sure to let them trick OR treat, depending on their mood. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer”, ya know what I’m sayin’?
ARSONIST’S LULLABYE
When I was a child, I heard voices. Some would sing and some would scream. You soon find you have few choices. I learned the voices died with me. When I was a child, I’d sit for hours staring into open flame. Something in it had a power. Could barely tear my eyes away. All you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep ’em on a leash. When I was 16, my senses fooled me. Thought gasoline was on my clothes. I knew that something would always rule me. I knew the scent was mine alone. All you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep ’em on a leash. When I was a man, I thought it ended when I knew love’s perfect ache, but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake. All you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep ’em on a leash. {Hozier}
NO! NO, THEY DON’T! The only person who suffers when we wish bad for others is the “wisher”, not the “other”. Regardless of the crime that reduces a victim to thoughts of retribution, by speaking ill will over another into the Universe you join the factions of pathetic people who drink from the same cup from which the poison they’re serving first came.
There’s an unspoken kismet law about malice, which is that once you receive it, you either rise above it or become it. In my opinion, malevolence is a “karmic boomerang”, in that once it’s tossed out into the wind, it always finds it’s way back to the sender and never misses its chance to return a favor.
Although the people who refuse to give in to their own darknessappear to be weak and cowardly, in reality it’s the evil things that walk amongst us that are the truly feeble. Even a toddler can than throw a stones at someone, but it takes an immense amount of strength, courage, and resilience to just stand there and let them hit you.
If, as I suspect, the reason we exist here is to choose between The Light and the dark, don’t be a fool and repay evil with evil. Vengeance is the Lord’s, and only the Lord’s alone, and you ARE NOT “The Punisher“! Besides, getting hit in the face with a boomerang can’t be all that fun, ya know what I’m sayin’?
Don’t get me wrong, I have been that “karmic boomeranger” in days gone by. There was a time in my life when I all but drove to New Orleans in the wee hours of the night to get an actual West African voodoo doll in which to stick my pins of vengeance into those who have wronged me or mine. And Jean-Claude Van DAMN, don’t even get me started when it comes to those who have brought harm to my kids … up to and including other kids! Taming the momma animal in me has been a work in progress over the years, but thankfully I’ve slayed that beast and sent it back down to hell where it belongs.
These days, I don’t dare spend my precious energy on the “THINGS” that will surely face the cosmic dragons they’ve unleashed unto themselves before it’s all said and done. Instead, I opt only to focus on the positive things and people in my atmosphere and not let all the devils I’ve had to dance with unleash the devil inside of me.
THE DEVIL INSIDE
Make me believe I’m human. Make me believe I’m not the voice in my mind. I don’t believe all the wrong I’ve done is forgiven. Make me believe I’m living. Make me believe I’m not the face that I hide. I don’t believe another day I can breathe so forsaken. Can you see my disease? Cannot hide what’s inside. I’m moving paralyzed and living hypnotized, hit right between the eyes, living with the Devil inside. I’m moving paralyzed and living hypnotized, hit right between the eyes. Living with the Devil inside. Can you see my disease? Meet the Devil inside of me. Is this the fate I’ve been given? I hear it calling in the dead of the night. I don’t believe I can ever be free of this hell that lives inside of me. Can you see my disease? Cannot hide what’s inside. I’m moving paralyzed and living hypnotized, hit right between the eyes, living with the Devil inside. {Like A Storm}
I can’t recall when a morning news story ever made me so fucking happy. I literally cried tears of joy for this man and his family when I heard these words from his mouth:
So, I made them a deal today, and I’m gonna stick to it. After this year, I am going to make one more Five Finger Death Punch album and then I am retiring from heavy metal.
A dear friend and highly intuitive Death Punch sister I was talking to this morning said that lately she’d been sensing a sort of “death” with him. In fact, we’d both been feeling that something’s been a little bit off in his world, though not necessarily in a bad way, but neither of us could put our finger on it. Well, there we have it! As it turns out, the death she’d been sensing was a metaphor for an ending. The “death” of this chapter of his beautifully dirty, poetic life, and the birth of an entirely new one. It’s “phoenixry” at it’s finest!
As I’ve been scouring through this news today, I read, “Well, let’s just hope that the next 5FDP album will come as late as possible”. Yah, yah, I get it. We’re gonna miss him. But I couldn’t disagree more. For as much as I have come to love, respect, and adore him, not as a “rock star”, but a human fucking being, it’s only right to let him go in peace without a fight.
Nothing would make me happier then to never see his face again, be it on a stage or social media where we’ve all relished being a part of his “family” if that meant he was riding off into the sunset and sanctuary of his truly personal life and endeavors. No man is more deserving of the next rebirth that will surely come from fading the bright lights that have both propelled and devoured him, into the quieter lights of his real family’s hearts and eyes. After all the tiny pieces of his broken, risen, but probably exhaustedphoenix soul that he’s literally bled out to the masses, no man has earned the right to finally rest his wings and fly back home to the ones he fought so hard to keep living for. C’mon, people! Those bright lights almost fucking blinded him, and I know for a fact that he’s given the actual shirt off his back to some of us. Also? Let’s face it. Not everyone has been so grateful for his contributions to both the arts and humanity. So, he’s damned if he does and damned if he don’t. Still, the vultures have picked at his living carcass enough, don’t ya think?
There’s a song I’ve always loved and have listened to for years by another band, Cold. The poignant words are clearly written from the perspective of a weary musician:
Whatever you became, blame it on my fame. Always away from you … sold my life for a song. Whatever you feel, I take it on my stage. I sing to the world for you … and I’m always alone.
These days, I think about him when I hear this song. I say to myself, “Damnit, Ivan, we love you! We ALL mother fucking LOVE you! But haven’t you’ve spent way more than your fair share of all of your power and grace on us? Just free yourself and go home.
This life we’re living really is just a blip, and yes, the lights will go down. Do everything within your power to ensure that when your door closes for the very last time you leave your light on for the people you’ve left behind and not just a darkened void. It’s how you’ll become “nothing, everything, and ALL of it” and leave this place better than you found it.
Well, guess what, Fucker? I’m saying “job well done”! While I realize this process isn’t going to happen overnight and we’ll still have some good times to share with you, know that when the last of those lights on your stage go down, the one you’ll have left behind for all of us will keep on burning bright through that void.
Those of us who’ve been paying attention know that aside from your family, there are still many gifts and contributions you’re working on leaving behind for the cause you’re so fucking passionate about. And hey, who knows? Maybe you’ll even find a true and proper queen to ride off into that sunset with. You deserve that, too, my friend, and I’m praying that you’ll find her!
~ The Phoenix Rests ~ (A “Midjourney” Creation By @archinorn)
I see you’ve got me blocked for some reason. I’d love to know more about that.
Lol! I BET you would!
I was just strollin’ through my calendar, and uh, you probably realize, but it was on this specific date on 1995 when you and I met …
Umm? NO, I didn’t realize!
Crazy, isn’t it? Oh my gosh! 1995. It’s been a minute.
YAH think?
The irony in this actual bottle of douche using the word “crazy” in a sentence is how in the aftermath of the nightmare he put me through, he tried convincing everyone, including me, that I was effing “crazy”.
Meanwhile, guess who’s still calling who after 23 fucking years, still keeping our “special dates” on his calendar, and still thinking of ME when he sees a a drop dead gorgeous woman on social media. Although, I must admit that he was dead-on, tiny balls accurate in that correlation, ’cause, umm, for a “fifty-THREE-it’s-SO-good-to-be-ME” year old biotch, I STILL look pretty good. So, with that, “Hey, you … MacHeebie FUCKING Jeebie?”
HOW DO YA LIKE ME NOW?
If you don’t know what “hoovering” is, it’s a narcissist’s strategy to manipulate IT’S (not “their”) victim and either keep them or suck them back in as “supply“. They use this emotionally abusive tactic when they realize their victim is trying to untangle themselves from their toxic web and get the FUCK away.
For those of you concerned that my Diary entries about him are somehow playing with fire, if MacNumNuts had any sincere interest in me aside from his pathetic desperation, he’d have likely read them by now. Clearly, he has not, because not only does his self-grandiosity and delusion make any attempts at sincerity impossible, if he had read anything about himself here, he’d most likely have slithered back under his rock.
So, with that, I’m MacMOOVING right along now. For the record, the reason I’m publishing this today and not back on April 22nd when the voicemail was sent is because I only recently found both these gems in my blocked contact trash. As I’ve said before, I only ever go digging through the garbage hunting for things that are truly worth my time and attention for repurposing into treasures.
Excuse the mess – I didn’t it you from behind. I caught a glimpse, but the reflection’s only mine. It’s almost like I’m paralyzed and locked outside myself. I don’t need to concede, because I won’t be someone else!Well, I am not perfect … and I don’t claim to be … and if that’s what you wanted, well then, I’m so sorry! How about a better version of the way that I am? How about a better version that makes me understand? How about a better version of the way that I am? The way I look? The way I speak? HOW ‘BOUT A BETTER VERSION OF ME?
To call it one of my favorites just wouldn’t do it justice. It’s so much more than just a song to me … IT’S A WAY OF LIFE! I will never forget the first time I ever heard it – mid-workout at a gym with a King who truly adored “the version” that I was then. Yet, as I listened to the words, they shredded me in a zillion awful and amazing ways at once. After that, I would listen to it daily as I worked on rewiring my fragile psyche and heal my broken relationship with ME. Then, BAM! Before I knew it, that NASTY habit of refusing to look into a mirror and say, “I LOVE YOU!” just disappeared.
If YOU don’t love you, 100% unconditionally, EVEN on your darkest of days, and value, see, and TREAT yourself as EPIC living masterpiece that you are, why would anyone else?
With all that being said, and in honor of this and every “Recovery Day International“, please remember to be patient and gentle with yourself while you’re trying to change bad habits. Dare I say that perhaps the worst of them all – “not loving yourself” – can be found at the root of most of the others. The better version of you is counting on you to stay the course, my friend, so, just stay on “Route 66” and give it a try! Do or say at least ONE kind thing while your standing in the mirror for 66 days in a row and see what can happen!
I know, I know! Yet anotherlove letter to myself. Still, its kinda crazy how fitting and relatable both the words above and the words below are to me. Despite some appearances, life truly has been good to me so far. So, I’m not writing anything else today, but this …
Fifty-THREE
It’s SO Good To Be Me!
“Fifty-THREE-It’s-SO-Good-To-Be-ME!”
Why, yes. Yes, it is! It’s so Jean-Claude Van DAMN good to be me! With that, here’s to everything and nothing that has made me who I am today, and what will hopefully be yet another 365 beautiful trips around the equally beautiful Sun!
I’ve given a lot of thought to the thought of “you” since the day he entered my world, and as the years have passed, I must say I’ve been a little anxious, because it’s kind of scary the way that some little girls are being raised these days. Actually, it’s a crying shame.
I’ve prayed incessantly for the moment I would be at peace with the thought of no longer being the number one woman in his life, and yes, “you” have always been at the forefront of my MOST important prayers:
Please, God, PLEASE! Please let her momma be raising someone precious and perfect for my son. No, I’m not asking for her to BE perfect. Just let her be the perfect one for HIM.
Some years ago I found this excerpt from prayer some man wrote to God about his own sons, and I’d been keeping it tucked safely in the “drafts” file of this Diary for the day he’d finally found someone who I believe was worthy of sharing it with. It had something to do with Princess Katherine, who as you know just became The Princess Of Whales:
And so I pray … for a princess that realizes she is the daughter of the King of Heaven and Earth … for a Princess clothed in humility and grace (rather than the latest must-have fashions and trends) … for a princess with hands that will get dirty for the sake of serving others and with feet willing to walk the extra mile (rather than one that demands manicures and pedicures by age seven) … for a princess whose “adornment” is not merely outward (arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel), but rather, let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is “very precious in the sight of God.” {1 Peter 3:3-5} … for a princess who loves unconditionally and forever, and doesn’t run out when her prince falls off his royal horse and isn’t as charming as she dreamed (because it WILL happen). Amen.
It wasn’t that long ago when I wrote these words in this Diary after first hearing this powerful song that I love:
Now, fast forward to “here we are” fifteen long years later, and I’m sitting here literally praying that he’s finally learning how to talk to girls, because God Himself knows he didn’t always have the best examples of that. When Zack came along, he literally flipped the game board of our lives upside down for the better, “talking to girls” took on a whole different meaning, and Christian finally had a good example.
Meanwhile, it looks like even I still have some work to do in the “talking to THE girl” department. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to turn off the radio when this song hits my cue, because all I can think about is how much it kills me that no man ever taught my son how to talk to girls until his stepdad came along. It kills me even more that he after the way he left us, he may have undone all those “man lessons” he spent so much time teaching Christian.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALEXANDRA! Happy birthday to us BOTH! Yes, we all love you and care about you very much. Yes, I do believe with everything in my heart that you are the princess that was meant for my son. Yes, your momma did raise someone precious.
If, indeed, you are “the one”, none of us could be prouder of the true princess he’s seemingly found in you. Of course there will always be bumps on this road. We’re only human, after all. Please just know that I will always be for you, never against you, because NO, my son isn’t always “right”, and NO, he doesn’t quite know all the best ways to talk to girls.
HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS
Yeah, I remember yes or no, or how to ask her to prom. Then it was a pickup line … somethin’ you’d say inside a bar. Quick on the draw, good at the game, but the game just changed, ’cause I got this ring and I’m on one knee, and now I’m drawin’ a blank. ‘Cause this angel hangs on every word I say. She’s gettin’ so much more from me than my last name … everything … and I can’t hide it. She’s got me at a loss for words. I guess I’m still learnin’ how to talk to girls. And I remember two pink lines … ready or not … she’s on her way. Yeah, she got her momma’s eyes. Well, I hope she don’t act like me. You know they say you pay for your raisin’. I’m tryin’ to raise her. But what do you say when you can’t tell her no? Well, I can’t even think about down the road. What about sixteen? What about God? What about big dreams? And oh my God, what about boys? The bad ones? Will she find out her momma has one? Damn! {Brantley Gilbert}
It’s no longer a big secret that I had a twisted and dysfunctional childhood, and also no secret that some of my mental pictures aren’t so homespun and stellar …
… BUT …
… I very much DO also have some precious and beautiful memories seared so deeply into the skin of all my days gone by that they’re a virtual tattoo inside my mind.
It’s raining, grey, and what some might consider miserable here in Dallas this afternoon, but as I walked into the kitchen just now and saw my favorite “Mindset Is Everything” coffee mug sitting on the table amidst a pile of skeletons and spookiness I’m about to HAUNT The Williamson Manor with, I literally snapped back in time to the MANY “Sundays” with my mom and HER coffee cup sitting around our often very rainy, New England kitchen table.
You see, Sundays were ALWAYS our “Green Stamp” days, and I fondly remember the countless hours she would spend with us at our tiny wooden table as she’d bust out all the stamps she’d collected for that week and let me and my sister help her put them in her books. We’d sit around that table drawing circles in “the catalog” around all the treasures we were saving for while having our little mother daughter chit chats about life.
For God’s sake, I even smelled the giant pot of scratch made Italian “gravy” that was ALWAYS simmering in the background while we were stamping our fingers to the bone, and how as all this was happening on those cozy afternoons, there was the best anxiety EVER simmering in my gut because I knew that soon my beloved Grandpa, aunts, uncles, and cousins would all be coming over for our weekly “family dinnuh”!
Jean-Claude Van DAMN I’m so proud to be turning “Fifty-THREE-It’s-SO-Good-To-Be-ME” next week, and while I do so adore all you young ones out there, grab a pen and paper and take NOTES from ALL of s “OMG, they’re like, SO old” ones, ’cause we know EXACTLY how to keep on keepin’ it REAL!
Meanwhile, as I’m writing this, my girls are upstairs all hunkered down in their fluffy pajamas and blankets as the storms are moving in while I’m downstairs just doing the mom thing. I’m overwhelmed with joy and an abundance of gratitude that I not only do I get to live this ethereal existence, but that my heart has been broken and put back together well enough to know that even when I’m not sifting through the ashes of my life, there is still so much beauty to be found in them that it just shows up during the storms like a ray of light shining through my soul. I am blessed.
… and THIS, my friends, is yet another“Grey HIGH” moment from my virtually tattooed heart and love-filled Williamson Castle to yours. Oh, and (PS) … there’s something that I’ll hope you’ll remember …
Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly, and if left unresolved, you can almost forget that you were ever created to cry in the first place.
It’s been just over three years since the love of my life stopped not just his own world, but all of ours as well, in the most egregious, abysmal, and literally psychotic course of events that any of us could have possibly foreseen or imagined.
But you see, in case you haven’t noticed, despite all the heaping piles of BULLSHIT every one of you mother fuckers dumped on my shoulders and how hard you tried to break my spirit, my heart, and steal my beautiful soul …
If I’ve learned anything in this last fifty something years, it’s that the only person who ever had the power to destroy me was ME, and the only person who was ever meant to save me was ME. In many ways, I’ve been both my own Judas and my own Jesus, and you NEVER had control! So, you can wipe them away, all those silly fuckin’ grins, ’cause I’m so DONE listening to your mother fucking’ side! Please be sure and tell your friend Irony to actually go and SUCK IT, ’cause the very things that were meant to steal my Light, clip my wings, and turn me inside out, ONLY helped me see better, fly stronger, and elevate me.
So, with that, I’ve really gotta run. I have the concert of my lifetime awaiting me and mine, and I’m not letting ANY of you kill my buzz. I made the entire lot of you my mother fucking bitches, and now I’m just so over it!
~ Queen Catherine
INSIDE OUT
Take it, I don’t need it. I don’t wanna hear your mother fuckin’ side. You can love it, or you can leave it, because nothing I say and nothing I feel is right. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t understand. While I’m sitting up here dying, you’re just holding out your hand. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have explained, ’cause you don’t know the difference between violence and pain. There’s no denying it, you’ve never had control! I stand alone. Guess I knew it all along. Yes, I knew that you were wrong, how you left when I was down. I want you to say it was never really me. You just turned and walked away! How you turned me inside out! Inside out! I’m not a dog. I’m not a slave. It doesn’t matter how much money I get paid. I give a shit. I never did. So, you can wipe it away, that silly fuckin’ grin! If I wrote it down for you, could you ever see it clear? Or would it go straight through your soul and come right out your ear? If I slowed it down for you, would you think me insincere? Cause in the end I’ll never bend, I’ll never shed a tear! There’s no denying it, I’ve always had control. {Five Finger Death Punch}
Evidently, “Someone” needed me to hear this today, so He sent the memo through a very dear friend of mine on Instagram of all freaking places. Although I’m fairly certain that my dad got the text I sent him and I haven’t yet gotten a response, at LEAST I’m no longer “blocked” on his phone, so I‘m gonna call that PROGRESS!
In the meantime …
Dear Dad,
If for some strange reason you actually happen to see this, I hope you know you don’t have to say you’re sorry. You don’t have to live with the heartache you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. I really have tried writing you out to get some closure, but the more the years go by, I’d rather not live with got cold shoulders, ’cause the more I realize as I keep getting older is that it’s never too late to turn it all around. So, don’t you beat yourself into the ground. I know you’ve tried your best. I know you struggle. The cards that you got dealt surely did give you trouble. Now, I see the you in me, and guess what? I SEE DOUBLE! But guess what else? We really CAN still turn it all around. We don’t have to change the story, but you don’t have to carry the weight that you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. Please don’t turn your back on me, because I really do still love you.
Cathy
{Papa Roach’s Words Adapted By The Real Cat Williamson}
Three years ago this hour, the police chief of my town walked into the hospital where my broken daughter was laying to tell me they’d found my husband dead in his car courtesy of the hollow point he’d put in his own head.
No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital floor wailing with me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe as truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.
Yes, the end IS coming, and no, I don’t think I mind. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … as hard as this “living” thing can be, I have no intention of dying unless and until HE says it’s my time. In the meantime, imma stick around here as long as I’m allowed as the UNBREAKABLE risen QUEEN I was born to be.
As for the devil? Come for me mother fucker! In case you haven’t noticed, my soul is already spoken for, and PS, you’re NOT not the one who gets it! That’s not a challenge … IT’S FACT!
Wow! I guess that wasn’t too graceful, now was it? If you’ve been around this Diary long enough you know damn good and well that sometimes I’m Heaven, sometimes I’m hell, and sometimes I really can’t tell which is which. Through it all, though, I always did know it would come to this, my “roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead”. THIS living queen who “rolls” as God’s favorite daughter is NOT gonna sleep ’til she’s dead! I’ve got punctuating to do and phoenixes to raise, so, I have no other choice but to be alright.
THANKS FOR ASKING
‘Cause I’m alright. Thanks for asking. There’s a million things I’d love to say, but you don’t wanna hear. Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t need your blessings. I’d rather face the wrath of angels than the devil in the mirror. I don’t think God is listening. She told us to follow, but left us behind. I’ve never seen an angel, but I know the Devil, and he told me I’m fine. “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’d rather capsize than chase an old horizon. Throw me back into the deadest of seas. I know that God is laughing. She gave us our wings, but never taught us to fly. They say the end is coming, and if that’s true, well, I don’t think I mind. Heaven or hell? I can’t tell which is which. I always knew it would come to this. Roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead. Roll, roll, roll … guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead. {Five Finger Death Punch}
In keeping with the metamorphosis of my journey, this day memorializes two profound occasions in my life. You see, not only is this my 500THDIARY ENTRY, but it’s the three year anniversary of my husband’s suicide at “just before midnight” on August 22, 2019.
With that, it seems only fitting that I pay tribute to one of my very few muses, Franz Kafka, the surrealistic writer from Prague whose inspired work left a tail on the fire of his words that it still burns bright in me a century later.
Much like my husband, Kafka left this world tragically unaware of how powerful his legacy would be, much less that he would eventually be regarded as one of the most prolific literary figures of the 20th-century. He only ever published a hand full of his work while he was alive because he didn’t believe it worthy. It was his dear friend, Max Brod, who as the executor of his estate blatantly disregarded the directive that his unfinished works be destroyed and published them. Be it not for the fact that Brod betrayed a dying man’s final wishes, the trajectory and longevity of Kafka’s legacy may not have been fully realized.
To say something is “Kafkaesque” is to infer that something is absurd and surreal, if not nightmarish and disorienting, all of which words in so many ways define my own seemingly absurd and surreal existence. Meanwhile, I could wax on poetically about everything “Kafka”, but perhaps the words that I believe sum him up the best are these:
Franz Kafka is regarded as one of the greatest literary figures in recent history. He is known for his uniquely dark, disorienting, and surreal writing style, a style and quality so particular to him, that anything that resembles it has come to be known and referred to as “Kafkaesque”.
Most people will never know what really happened in our home in the months before Zack’s suicide. To say that unfathomable insanity, if not purely demonic evil besieged us would not give credence to the monster that took up residency in his mind and all but devoured my daughter as well during its reign of unholy terror. She ended up hitting a major wall in the wake of everything that happened two weeks before her sophomore year end, so much so that the school decided to release her earlier and excuse her from final exams so that we could tend to her fragile mental health.
In lieu of finals, her literature teacher had asked her to write a personal memoir without fully knowing why the school had negated her exams. Upon becoming aware that writing a memoir might be the worst possible thing for her under the circumstances, she opted to have her write an essay about her favorite book by her favorite author instead.
~ Zack’s Last Audible Read ~
Unbeknownst to me, Gia had read “The Metamorphosis” several times since Zack’s suicide, having done so because not only was she aware that Kafka was my favorite writer, she knew that it was the last book Zack had listened to nineteen days before he left. She was trying desperately to make sense out of her parents. Again unbeknownst to me, she wrote her essay about “the invisible monster”:
How Do YouFight An Invisible Enemy?
YOU GIVE IT A FACE!
(Written By Gia Embach)
Since the beginning of time or existence itself, for living things big or small, life is marked with a common anguish: To live is to suffer. Over time, however, as humanity has specifically thrust itself into problems of its own device, it’s tried desperately to put incomprehensible ideas or situations into a box so as to minimize the pain and anxiety that fester in the face of the unknown or difficult.
Anguish was arguably never more prevalent than throughout the duration of World War I. The largest, bloodiest, most destructive war the world had yet seen, with such horrors as to reduce the social order and beliefs to rubble in a similar manner to the physical world around people all over the world. During the uneasy postwar years, this society of confused and angry people confided in Czech-born writer Franz Kafka.
His stories almost always depict characters who are in eerie situations they can neither comprehend nor escape from. While this idea of using the imagination to comprehend the uncomfortable and incomprehensible world of emotions and psychology was precious to those living during the postwar years, his message still rings true today, as people still find the comprehension of the human mind to be incredibly difficult and laborious. Through allegorical works of literature and art, artists and writers allow others, and themselves, to understand feelings and situations that would otherwise be terrifying or unfathomable to bring comfort that stems from a shared discomfort.
The Metamorphosis begins with Gregor Samsa awaking in his bed only to find himself transformed into a large cockroach or other bug-like vermin. Gregor becomes increasingly dreary after looking out the window to all the rain and darkness and decides to give in to the pull of sleep calling to him. His new body, however, won’t let him lay comfortably, so he tries desperately to fling himself on his side to rest, only to fall on his armored back, forced to look at his grotesque abdomen and thin, scrambling legs. His mind then drifts to the dread he feels for his stressful job, the importance of sleep, so he begins focusing on the mundane issues in his life that still take precedence over his terrifying condition. His family worriedly knock on his door attempting to converse with him and wondering what the matter is, as Gregor has always been a dutiful worker and had never missed a day of work in his life. Gregor comes to find that he is unable to communicate with human speech and struggles to converse with his worried family on the other side of the wooden door which he soon finds he is unable to open, only doing so after great difficulty.
Emerging from his room, his family and the Chief Clerc are shocked by his appearance and he is soundly scolded by the Chief Clerk. Gregor retreats to his room, injuring himself in the process, and remains isolated inside. He comes to find that his little sister, Grete, attentively looks after him, bringing him fresh food that is unappealing to Gregor despite his hunger. The next morning, he is brought rotting food which he devours ravenously. From his room, Gregor overhears his family’s troubles. His guilt and shame only grow as he listens to his family try to figure out how they will make enough money to support each other, as Gregor is unable to provide for them now. Overwhelmed with sadness and guilt, he returns to his isolation for a few weeks, and Grete slowly but surely becomes less caring for Gregor, and increasingly upset and impatient at her brother’s need for care. When he finally gets enough courage to leave his room, his sister finds him in the kitchen, disturbed. A month later, his mother offers to take the furniture out of his room, so he can crawl more comfortably in his room, however Gregor wishes to hold on to the furniture, keeping himself connected to his humanity, to the familiarity of the Gregor before he woke up that fateful morning as a giant bug. Gregor eventually puts himself upside down on his ceiling, above a painting in his room, the sight of which causes his mother to faint, and his father returns home to find Gregor outside his room once again, only to pelt him with apples, seriously injuring him as he flees back to his room. Gregor takes another month to heal. His family has become exhausted from working and decide to house some loggers for extra income. Later, as Gregor is drawn out by the beautiful sound of a violin, the sight of him disgusts the loggers, causing them to leave without paying rent, so his once gentle and compassionate sister now states that the bug is not really Gregor and has ruined their lives. Returning to his room, he thinks fondly of his family before he dies. His body is found, and his family carries on happily without him as they discuss their plans for the future.
Although there are many interpretations of this eerie tale, I believe it is an allegory for depression and the damage it causes to not only the one who suffers from it, but also those around them. The first time I read it, I was immediately fond of Gregor. In him, I found that sense of comfort that I had mentioned before. Comparing his experience with depression to mine allowed me to feel less alone. Like me, even simple tasks for him such as getting out of bed or talking became excruciatingly difficult and it exhausted him to venture from the safety of the safe, cold comfort and isolation of his room Thinking that someone who was alive over 100 years ago had the same exact feelings that I’ve had made me feel less ashamed of my illness.
In another mirror of my mind, Gregor’s mind drifts to his worries and anxieties about the future and all the little things that could go wrong. Been there! Done that! No matter how long you have depression or how “well” you handle it, there are always things on your mind. They’re like an invisible bag of rocks dragging behind your feet that make your legs tire quickly and your entire body feel incredibly heavy. Each time Gregor tried to reach out and become himself again, he was treated with disgust, disdain, and impatience, reminding him time and again why he had hidden himself away in the first place. To those living in a world outside of a disease festering inside one’s brain, there are no rocks and no issues, there’s just laziness and distraction. “They’re not trying enough” or “They’re being dramatic”.
Grete, who at first gave Gregor aid with love, soon drifted away. When you suffer from depression, it can be hard for others to love and care for you, so when you are living as a creature you yourself can hardly look at without disgust, how COULD you accept any help? Depression tells you that you aren’t worth it and you don’t deserve it. If your symptoms themselves don’t push people away, you will. Giving yourself excuses to be alone, hoping that if you sabotage the good things enough, you might begin to feel like your feelings are valid, but that is a rare thing to come to believe. Then, just like Gregor, you soon find that reaching out only gets you hurt again, and you fully realize all that you no longer have. At this point, a person with depression will respond in a variety of ways. Some seethe with a burning anger, others protect themselves with an icy numbness, and others drown themselves in tears. In other cases, like Gregor, he simply allows himself to fade away. He felt ashamed, guilty, impossible to deal with. The harsh words of others twisting the steel blade he had dug into his chest deeper. He thinks of those who shunned him with love, understanding that nobody could love a monster. He thinks of them and dies, utterly and completely alone.
The Metamorphosis was the last thing my father read before he lost his battle with his own invisible enemy … his “bug”. While literature like Kafka’s does indeed offer comfort, nothing can cover the harsh and bitter reality of mental illness. Only the luckiest ones, and these warriors are far and few between, survive the battle against the hidden enemy. Many, like Gregor and my father, slowly fade away, isolating themselves until death to keep those they love from the harm they know they cause.
The truth of the matter is this: human beings are far from being able to comprehend the human mind in its best form and are further still from understanding a mind that is damaged. However, through people like Kafka, who cut these incredible issues into tiny, more manageable pieces, we can all come to understand it a little better. Those who suffer, can come to understand their suffering. Those who don’t share that same, complex kind of pain, come to understand it. When people understand something so horrible and terrifying, it slowly falls apart as it’s being chipped away like a block of marble until something beautiful and heroic remains.
In closing, I feel it is imperative to appreciate the gift that art can give to humanity: the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible, the ability to look at ourselves as works in progress rather than vermin, and the ability to unite people of all walks of life together in an often-forgotten fact. Once we strip away our flesh and everything of this Earth, each of us has a soul that is broken, and each of our souls, whether we acknowledge it or not, has a burning desire to be loved. That fact can only be nurtured and accepted through people like Kafka who aren’t afraid to brave the nightmares of existing, people who shine lights in darkness so others can see light.
Of all the things she could have written about, and this despite the fact that she had been excused from writing a personal memoir, in many ways she did write a personal memoir. Can you FEEL the ABSURDITY? Can you FATHOM the SURREALNESS? Can you appreciate this cosmic kick in the face of that elusive demon bug that has infested the minds of too many Gregors to count?
FUCK YOU “popular monster”! You may have obliterated, disintegrated, and annihilated my husband, but you will NOT feast upon another carcass in my divinely punctuated haloif takes my very last breath to keep you under foot. I’ve FOUND my way out of your web you fucking LIAR and miserable CHEATER.
I’ve fallen IN LOVE
with NOT falling apart!
HAPPY 500TH DIARY ENTRY TO ME! May you rest eternally Zachariah and Franz, two of the few mortal men who were able to reach the depths of my soul. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten, nor the countless ways you both inspired my metamorphosis.
Last, but not least, THANK YOU from my bursting heart to my Mona Lisa daughter for helping me finally find the words I’d long been searching for to honor my favorite beetle.
If you or someone you love is battling an “invisible monster”, PLEASE reach out for help! The “SAMHSA National Helpline” is a FREEE, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders.Always … Keep … FIGHTING!
The new album dropped at midnight and it’s mind-blowing, but I got stuck on one song, “All I Know”. Meanwhile, while we were on a chat with him in the wee hours of the morning, Ivan said that the whistling at the intro just came to him one night while he was at his cabin in Wyoming. He said he’d been laying in bed, heard whistling outside his window, then just got up and started writing.
Now, here’s where this “Death Punch” may throw you for a loop, ’cause I’m about to go somewhere that some of you don’t wanna go.
I believe that the higher power who I call by the name of “God” is running this greatest show on Earth gig. As far as I’m concerned, creation itself is a musical composition straight from His heart to our souls, and the beings He specifically chooses to make music of every kind are His tuning forks:
“But now bring me a musician.”
Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.
[2 Kings 3:15 NKJV]
Meanwhile …
Zack used to whistle and hum all the fucking time, so, before Ivan talked about it, I’d already been captured by that whistling and listening to it over and over. It was one of the most ethereal moments I’ve ever experienced in my life. “From Zack’s soul, to God’s ears, to Ivan’s mouth”, then POOF! “A seemingly magical process of transformation” through the creation of the hauntingly beautiful whistle at the beginning of a song that echoed to me just like the many other voices from my past that I believe sending me messages:
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
Much like my “Brighter Side” moment in March of 2020, I believe that Zack needed me to hear the powerful message in this song, so, God used Ivan’s whistling to do it. That’s right folks, love it or hate it, and as impossible as it may be to conceptualize, as far as I’m concerned, Ivan isn’t just some rock star who jumps around on stages worldwide and entertains the masses. His purpose here is so much bigger than perhaps even he will ever know. He’s a “universal elixir” and tuning fork that God is using to perpetuate His greatest alchemy of all … MUSIC!
I don’t think that I’m crazy. Yeah, but how would I know, when the voices remind me that it’s all just for show. Well, I thought I had answers, but the questions have changed. It’s so hard to feel anything when I’ve only known pain. Pain. You can cast me out and dig my hole. Spit on my grave. Curse my soul. You can hold me down and not let go, but the devil you fear is all I know. And the road that’s less traveled, well, it’s all that I’ve known. Every time I look backwards, there’s still so far to go. If I’m born to be broken … cold, bloody, and numb … tell me, why am I running? What am I running from? From? As I sit here in silence, all alone in myself … who the hell would believe me? Better yet, who would I tell? I can’t tell. {Five Finger Death Punch}
Although it dropped a few days ago and I’d already given it a couple spins, because I’ve been preoccupied and unable to really dig into it the way I prefer when any new Death Punch drops, it wasn’t until today while answering a Quora question about mental illness that I really sat down and dug:
It’s nights like this, under a harvest moon. It came too fast and it’s gone too soon. A wilted rose and a frozen tomb. A memory for the wind.Anyway …
Does anybody notice that the sky is falling? Are we all just happy in the rain? Am I the only one who hears the sirens calling? Am I the only one who feels the pain?I read all the pages from the left to right. I took one in the morning and one at night. The fire still burns, but it’s cold inside. It’s all that I can do.Anyway …
No one wants to talk about the end is coming. Pointing fingers, handing out the blame. If I gave you answers to all your questions, could you change, or would you stay the same?
It’s times like these when the sorrow shadows all the laughter.
It’s times like these when the hurt goes on and on forever. It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
It’s times like these when left is right and forward’s backwards.
It’s times like these when days and nights just roll together.
It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
WOW! Just WOW! How the fuck does he manage to do this? Just like clockworkand always right on cue, that FUCKER I love so very much managed to find an unexpressed storm of thoughts in my head that I didn’t even know existed and pull them out of me for reckoning.
Trust me, I get it. I totally fucking do! I’ve had a front row seat to the SHIT SHOW for the majority of my life and know exactly how it feels to want to fade away. Been there. Done that. I’ve got the proverbial straight jacket and yetthe softest, most tender, stitched together, steel-encrusted heart to prove it, not to mention the unfortunate privilege of having to watch the dying soul of a person I loved literally fade away.
But let me ask you this …
If you could have all the answers to your questions, would you really change or would you stay the same? And what if I told you that the truth of the matter is that some questions just aren’t meant to be answered? What if our “assignment” is to simply roll with all these fucking punches, win, lose, or draw, and go screeching into the bull pen more like Ferdinand the flower smeller than Bodacious with his reign of destruction and terror?
But Cat, how the FUCK did you hear this song and end up standing at a bullfight?
Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
The late, great French philosopher, Albert Camus, who is one of my favorite “absurdists“, once said these most powerful words:
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
Well, I am here to tell you he was dead on giant BULL BALLS accurate! Happiness is what we make of it, even in the midst of falling skies. Pray GOD we all make it to the finish line in one piece with the power and grace of a Ferdinand and as many roses that we can possibly gather, wilted as some of them may be, and not like a Bodacious standing before a frozen tomb full of regret, disdain, and misery.
As and aside, I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I’m obsessed with grey skies and stormy weather. They’re a constant reminder that even though the sky falls from time to time, as if to scream at me in rage and provocation, at the end of the day I’m always gonna be okay, because it’s times like these that made me who I am.
Left, right, forwards, backwards, inside or fucking OUT, the fact of the matter is that these SHIT STORMS are gonna keep coming. So, I’ll just keep myself buckled up for the most epic ride of my life while I’m hunting for roses and laughing as often I can. I’ll make my own happiness on my own fucking terms while screaming back at the falling sky, “Guess what, Bodacious? I’m still here riding! You lose! I WIN!”
Ain’t it funny how things happen? I mean, c’mon people … do any of you still only believe in random coincidence? As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m yummily wrapped up in one of the king’sgrey sweaters that on any other given Monday would have traveled in Gia’s backpack to her dad’s house. But for the fact that I just happened to be doing laundry last night instead of on my regularly scheduled Sunday, it wouldn’t have been here to greet me this morning when I decided to just make it a “grey day” and stay home to enjoy the peaceful oblivion of my happily solitary existence. Hell, I wasn’t even done reveling in and relishing the last four beautiful days I had of time spent with my precious kids and family, the message I got from Skid Row, and that fucking EPIC German schnitzel sandwich situation. I mean, BRING IT you badass fucking Cosmos …
I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR!
Meanwhile, I popped on to the Instagram earlier today only to find that while I was busy “queening” around the castle in one of the best “grey highs” I’ve had in months, that today marked yet another powerful Death Punch moment. It was the release of the official “Brighter Side Of Grey” video:
It’s hard to believe that our last record “F8” came out over 2 years ago in the beginning of 2020, born into the whirlwind of events that dominated our lives and will echo into the rest of our history. Those of you intimately familiar with that album, now know how some of F8’s dystopian lyrics became rather prophetic. Brighter Side of Grey was an important song on that record, but especially personal to Ivan (who’s the only parent in the band). It is a more than fitting commentary to what’s going on in the world that probably needs a good reminder right about now that we are here only for second, a tiny blip on the flow of time… not just as individuals but as an entire species.It took a trillion conditions to be just right for human life to exist in this Universe, yet it takes just one to go terribly wrong and make it all disappear. This song also serves as the perfect bridge to our new album we just finished this week, which generally revolves around similar existential questions. It’s incredible how much we don’t understand about our own existence, yet everyone’s relationship with the concept of death permeates, even orients their entire lives. Can’t wait to share it… enjoy this video and stay tuned for new music and big tour announcements in the very near future!
In case you didn’t get the memo yet, this isn’t just another song and grey isn’t just a color. “The Brighter Side Of Grey” is an entire mindset and way of life for me:
Grey is not just a color to me – IT’S EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! It’s the grace I’ve received that is so undeserved yet given to me anyway by The One who has never loved me with black and white conditions. He “takes the best parts of me and locks them away without the key” and I know that He is never far away. He’s the Light that shines ahead of my journey and dilutes the blackness of the abyss into the most beautiful shades of grey. For more than four decades, I lived a black and white existence with no room for the forlorn grey I knew I needed but didn’t know how to connect with. As I look back at this picture now, I’m filled with the most unbelievable solace you can imagine. It reminds me of just how far I’ve come, that it was always supposed to be this way, and there is always a “Brighter Side Of Grey”. I’m not gonna lie … it is now my final wish that when it’s time for me to move along, this is the last song I hear as they bid me farewell.
I could keep going on about the “grey” of it all, but honestly, I’m so done writing about it. Now, I just want to live in it! I want to sit back, relax, and inhale all my life nuggets of goodness.
Today is a good day in the music world, people. Not just for the factions of knuckleheads like me who’ve been anxiously waiting for this video, but likewise for anyone who sees it, hears the words, and really bites in to its sobering and bittersweet message.
This life we’re living really is just a blip, and yes, the lights will go down. So, do everything in your power to ensure that when that door closes behind you for the very last time, you leave a light on for your people and not just a darkened void. It’s how you’ll become “nothing, everything, and ALL of it” and leave this place better than you found it.
Useless news flash for all of you: Today is both “World Monopoly Day” and it’s 81st birthday! Yes, my friends, it was on this day eight decades ago that the iconic, monocle sporting, sharp dressed little dude we all know and love, “Rich Uncle Penny Bags” was born!
So, in keeping with the game play theme, I want to share something kinda poignant I’ve learned about playing games over the years … that is … there is a price to pay for rolling the dice. And no, I’m not necessarily talking aboutthe metaphorical life games we play with peoples’ hearts and minds, I’m talking about the actual games we play for fun and jest like our beloved Monopoly.
You really can learn a lot about not just other people, but yourself as well, when playing recreational “games” with them. Watch how a person plays any kind of game, be them board games, cards, video games, and even sports, and you’ll catch a fairly authentic glimpse of not just their personality, but how they handle and present themselves in everyday, social, and business settings as well. If you pay close enough attention, you’ll likely be able to see their:
Ethics.
Morality.
Honesty.
Integrity.
Patience.
Humility.
Priorities.
Coping skills.
Jealousy.
Generosity.
If you pay even closer enough attention, you may be able to see their:
Ability to hold random conversations.
Sense of entitlement if there is one.
Ability to compromise and be flexible.
Ability to collaborate.
Ability to share.
Overall life goals and motivation.
Attitude about people in general.
Ya wanna know what kind of person you’re really dealing with in “real life”? Challenge them to a game of Monopoly, pop some popcorn, and observe! Of all the things you can garner about a person’s personality, many of which aren’t even listed above, perhaps the most telltale sign of who and what they really are is their attitude whether they win or lose. Do they accept defeat with anger, resentment, jealously, and tantrum, or do they accept it with a “win some or lose some” grain of salt”? Or if they win, do they become a pompous in your face ASSHOLE, or just stay humble and thankful that “this time” they won because “sometimes they don’t”?
Truth being told, I myself have learned a great many things about my own children, God love them both, having both watched and played play board games with them over the years. As it turns out, I’ve raised one shark and one saint, neither of whom I’ll identify by name to either protect their guilt or save their face, lol.
Meanwhile, one of my darlings has been known to literally flip the Monopoly board upside down in a fit of rage when the game isn’t going their way and takes great personal offense when they can’t manage to con someone into selling them ALL the prime real estate on the bougie block of the board. That’s also the same child who shows no mercy whatsoever when people land on their Boardwalk hotel and have to forfeit the game. Meanwhile, much like me, my other one simply walks away from lost board games like, “So what, I lost, but DAMN that was fun!” That’s the same one who feels awful and shares more than an abundance of grace, often to their own demise, when someone lands on their Boardwalk and is on the brink of their own demise.
I’m Jean Claude Van DAMN telling you people – BOARD GAMES are the “real deal” when it comes to reading people. And by the way, as I said at the beginning, this “game playing test” also works for ourselves. As I’ve gotten older and really homed in on the process of self-discovery, awareness, and accountability, I, too, have “checked and balanced myself” when I was playing a game by really thinking about “why” I either did or didn’t react in certain ways or think, say, or do certain things:
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? It’s JUST a game?”
… or …
Damn, girl, why’d you do that? Don you even WANT to win this game?
As far as I’m concerned, and in case you haven’t already figured this out by now in reading through my Diary, there really is a message in every moment and something to be learned in the process and outcome of every single thing in which we endeavor. EVEN SILLY BOARD GAMES! Yes, there sure is a price to pay for “playing games” with the truly discerning amongst us, that being the risk of showing who you really are. By the time the game is over though, the end will have justified the means, ’cause let’s be honest, folks, these days it’s getting harder to tell the difference between real and make believe. Whether or not we like it or will admit it, so many people are hiding from even themselves and pretending to be someone they’re not, so if Monopoly is what it takes to get someone to speak their truth with the simple roll of a dice, let the games begin!
PRICE TO PLAY
Fail to see how destructive we can be. Taking without giving back ’til the damage can be seen. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. Then all you see and all you gave and all you step on with no shame. There are no rules, no one to blame. The price to play the game. Empathy, the chosen way to be. Blindly look the other way while you waste away with me. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. {Staind}
… that moment she sends you the screen shots of a conversation she had with a friend who’s in the midst of a struggle with her truly and insidiouslytoxic mother, only to read it and discover once again that yes, she really is listening to you, and yes, your dream for her really is coming true.
If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, by now you know I have a song for every moment, and in every one of my moments there’s a song. If I had a dollar for the countless number of times I’ve listened to and belted this one out loud to myself as a battle cry to remind me of exactly what I’m fighting for, then I’d could feed the world.
Do you want me to just listen, give you my thoughts, or offer advice? What would help you the most right now?
Pray GOD, how many times have I said those very words to her?
Everyone’s love is like water in a cup. The water in their cup is what they have to give …
And how many times have I said those exact words to her, too? I’m not gonna lie, folks, not 2.5 milliseconds after reading those words, “like water in a cup”, the waterworks began and I swear to HEAVEN that the first thought that came to my mind was the “the dream” in the words of this song.
My Mona Lisa made very much made me smile today, because after all that has been said and done, it’s becoming clearer to me each day that everything I’ve been praying for, fighting for, and dreaming about for her is coming to fruition.
As and aside, my daughter is far from perfect, just like her perfectly imperfect mom, and by no means am I attempting to canonize her into sainthood. She’s a normal and hormonal teenage girl, my friends, and truth being told, there are days when that little brat takes me toe to toe and drives me up literal walls. But if only you knew just exactly what she has been through in this lifetime thus far, and the actual demons she’s had to slay, you, like me, would be more inclined to expect that she’d have not only become a demon herself by now, but an extra cold and black one at that. She’s been broken in ways that no women should ever be broken, yet here she is spewing love, light, empathy, patience, understanding, and validation for another human being’s condition instead of the jaded toxicity that often accompanies the victims of the unfathomable crimes against her.
Likewise, by no means am a perfect parent. I have admittedly made way more than my fair share of mistakes, fails, and blunders. But this girl? My masterpiece? Although I have often felt that I don’t deserve her, evidently God believed I did, so, he charged me with her care even despite myself. She is every diamond in my jewel encrusted crown and exactly who I hope to be if and when I grow up. The more time passes, the more I can’t help but wonder whether my single greatest purpose and contribution to this world isn’t something I’m gonna do, but the children that I am raising.
SHE is my utmost achievement. SHE is the voice that will surely linger on as she continues lighting fires of her own with not just my words, but the brave and wise words of her own. SHE is the living expression of my life’s every song, and I am so blessed to call her my daughter. Today, as always, my “cup” truly runneth over.
TO MY DAUGHTER,
If you wanna lead, be a leader. If you wanna dream, be a dreamer. Climb to the top of that mountain and SCREAM IT, but, remember when you get to the top … everything you say is gonna matter … everything you do is gonna add up. It’s what I’ve asked for. So, don’t lose heart when it’s not what you thought. Careful now, girl – avoid those Jezebel ways. Don’t wear a crown on your head, but be a queen of clichés. Soon you’ll be playing with the big girls, so make sure that you’re ready when it comes around!
If you wanna preach, be a preacher. If you wanna teach, be a teacher. Remember that the footprints you’re leaving will tell us all who you really are. Never forget to remember your worth … instead of spreading your legs, please just use your words. Character is shown by the things that we do. The one thing you’re never gonna hide is the truth. ‘Cause anyone can sell when they’re selling out, and anyone can fly when they’re falling down.
I had a dream that YOU were born a generation to behold! Lighting fires with your words instead of useless smoke that blurs the lines of right and wrong; expression that lives on; my army with a song that will linger when I’m gone. I had a dream!
Today marks an incredibly powerful day in the Five Finger Death Punch family with the release of the official “Tragic Truth” video:
We wrote “Tragic Truth” in 2011 for the “American Capitalist” album, but it simply wasn’t finished by the manufacturing deadline. Since the song was very important to us, we didn’t want to wait and hold it until the following album, so it was added as a bonus track to the digital edition.Consequently, it never really got the attention we intended for it and a lot of our fans are not even aware of its existence. It’s been a conversation for years to somehow circle back to this song, and we felt right now, on Ivan’s birthday, and two months from his 4th sober anniversary it is probably as good of an occasion as it can be to release this music video; as it is a visual journal of our story. The battle with addiction … the pain … the chaos … life and even death. A celebration of a victory, Ivan’s rebirth into a new life. It is also a message for those who are battling addiction right now: you are more than your addiction, and you are never alone. Seek help, fight back, it’s never too late… Ivan came back from the dead, literally. He was so far gone, if he can do it – you can do it. Let this be a testament to that.So, with that said, Happy Birthday Ivan! Congratulations on your new lease on life. And thank YOU to all the fans who stood by us all these years, supported us, supported him, and have been the catalyst of his recovery.
As for me? Of the now 466 entries published in this Diary, “The Cosmic, NOT Tragic Truth” is one of my personal favorites. The cryptic role it played in my healing from and making peace with Zack’s suicide literally defies conception:
All I can tell you is that my intersection with the Cosmos this morning was EVERYTHING to me. Even as I write this, I’m smiling yet again, because while on the surface it may appear that the demons that devoured him won, nothing could be farther from the truth.The rare few of us who really knew him and were honored to both love and be loved by him know a “truth” that is much more beautiful than tragic: HE’S HOME NOW! I just know it. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more tears. No more aching for the “family” who abandoned the “Zack Of Shit”. NO MORE VOICES SCREAMING IN HIS HEAD!
After seeing it the first time, I watched it over and over. The more I watched, the more I ached, and I know exactly why I was so compelled to keep torturing myself with it. It’s a catharsis I needed, so, I was emotionally cutting myself because there are clearly some feelings about the last months of his life that I’ve still yet to fully bleed out.
I cannot tell you how many times in days since he left us that I’ve had random flashes of the countless times I saw Zack literally holding his head in his hands the way that Ivan does in the video. He was desperately trying to quiet all the voices that were screaming inside his mind and fend off the demons that were devouring him. I kept asking him what was wrong, or if his head hurt, or for God’s sake why was he covering his ears that way. His response was always the same:
They keep screaming at me, Catherine. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE THEM STOP!
I’m not gonna lie, but his sobering words in those moments and the helpless looks upon his face may haunt me for the rest of my life.
As for me? Although I’m not an alcoholic, I have suffered with and am in recovery from both a “creature” of my own and a complicated mental illness. For that reason, I made the personal decision to lead a sober lifestyle, and had my last drop of alcohol on March 26, 2021, at 4:40pm. Yes, I know the exact date and time because I have proof via a credit card charge from “The Shot Lady” in Nashville, Tennessee. My decision was made in support of not just Ivan’s “SOBER AS FUCK” journey and platform, but anyone else who is fighting that fight, not the least of which is someone very close to me who has yet to recognize his own tragic truths, and yet another who already has.
If you haven’t heard this song yet, YOU SHOULD! Especially if you or someone you love has ever struggled with an addiction or mental illness. Always remember that not everyone survives the “tragic truth” of their journey, so we must truly celebrate the lives of everyphoenix who does and support them in their flight. The wings a recovery warrior flies with were forged in a fire that not everyone makes it out of alive, and some of us had to actually die first before we could live.
It took me a literal HELL of a long time to finally figure out that one of my most self-sabotaging traits has always been the desire to carry the load for the people in my life at any cost, up to and including my own preservation. There have been far too many times that I’ve tried to protect the people I’ve cared about from the consequences of their poor choices and behaviors, when in fact what I should have been doing is letting them feel every scrape and cut from the sharp edges of those consequences so they could figure out their own survival.
For too many years to count, it was incredibly difficult for me to “love from a distance”, pray for the best outcomes, and save my precious energy for my survival. But here’s the deal folks, sometimes you have to learn to say these most IMPECCABLE words out loud, as painful as it may be to “cut them” loose:
I AM NO ONE’S SAVIOR!
Holy SHIT! I think I just had another epiphany after having written the word “SAVIOR” in bold letters! Is this how it feels for God to have to sit back and watch all of us scraping and cutting ourselves on the sharp edges of our poor choices and behaviors? I mean, He clearly has the power to “force” or “control” us to do anything, but instead He gives us the free will to either choose or not choose to both discover and respect His many laws and “wisdoms”. We were given the responsibility for the choices we make, up to and including any less than optimal consequences.
“Sow” this is how a person, and especially a parent, allows someone to learn the often bloody hard way that while we can indeed choose to sow whatever we want, we cannot choose what we will reap. WOW! Just when I thought I had the nuts and bolts of this thing figured out – MY MIND IS OFFICIALLY NUMB AGAIN!
My Dearest Cat:
Listen up, you divine apostrophe! No, you are NOT God, and no, you really CAN’T save people, you can ONLY love them. As selfish as it seems, you MUST continue to keep on choosing YOU, because, umm, what the hell use are you to any of us if your wings break again and you can’t keep touching that beautiful sky? So, put down everyone ELSE’S scissors and just keep shining your Light for the people in your life who need to see it, regardless of whether they even know they need it. In the meantime, when you feel helpless as you’re watching the people you love running with sharp objects, try and remember all the times God saw YOU running with scissors and how helpless He must have felt, too. If that Man has any actual hair on his head, surely YOU’RE the one who turned it grey. Yet, here you still are alive and well with scarred up cuts that are now your survival to tell. Yes, you fell down, but you’ve lived and have learned, what didn’t kill you DID make you stronger, and He HAD to let you do it. None of these seeds you’re still desperately trying to plant will take root otherwise.
Love ~ ME!
Happy New Year to all you beautiful people, and NOPE, this isn’t just another one of those cliche “resolutions”. It’s just an impeccable promise to myself not to fall apart when I see people running with scissors, not to run with scissors myself, and just keep being what I’m being: Jean Claude Van DAMN Iridescent!
SHARP EDGES
Mama always told me don’t you run – don’t you run with scissors, son. You’re gonna hurt someone. Mama told me look before you leap – always think before you speak, and watch the friends you keep. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. Should’ve played it safer from the start – loved you like a house of cards. I let it fall apart. But all the things I couldn’t understand – I never could’ve planned – they made me who I am. Put your nose on paperbacks instead of smoking cigarettes. These years you’re never getting back. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. We all fall down. We live somehow. We learn what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. {Linkin’ Park}
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING extraordinary is ever born without pressure. It’s one of life’s greatest paradoxes that life gets harder when you try to make it “easier”:
Living a healthy lifestyle is hard, but the consequences of not advocating for your health are even harder.
Being alone is hard, even when you’re not “lonely”, but being surrounded by people who make you feel lonely is even harder.
Living life on your own terms is hard, but living life as a prisoner of what’s “best” for everyone else is even harder.
Being a piece of coal subjected to unfathomable pressure and temperatures for upwards of 3 billion years is hard, but not becoming the diamond you were intended to become, is an actual living tragedy.
DO THE HARD STUFF MY FRIENDS, because sometimes the easy way out can actually cost you EVERYTHING! Hmm. Now that I think of it, maybe this is why I’ve always been FASCINATED by diamonds. They’re tactile proof that behind most every beautiful thing were unspeakable amounts of pain, pressure, and toil. As it turns out, I was a fuckin’ 5 carat, D-color, FLAWLESS and PRICELESS solitaire all along, it just took me a long HOT minute to figure it out!
In closing, and as cliche as it may be, as are many of the songs I pick to go along with my Diary entries, in the words of the illustrious Freddie Mercury …
Insanity laughs under pressure. We’re breaking! Can’t we give ourselves one more chance … and love (people on streets) dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance! This is our last dance! This is ourselves – under pressure.
EXACTLY! Love … no, wait! SELF LOVE and caring is the only way to keep our dance card going and our fingers, toes, and heads encrusted with the diamonds of our life! This truly is QUEEN stuff my friends. Just sayin’!
I had no idea how I’d memorialize this holiday when I woke up today, until, that is, I’d grabbed a few things from my gift-wrapping stash to dress up a few last presents. THEN IT HAPPENED! In case you didn’t know, I’m a huge proponent of recycling seemingly useless things that some people would throw away, especially inasmuch as I very much consider my life to be a repurposed work of art. Now that I think of it, it’s all the recycled and repurposed people I’ve crossed paths with thus far who’ve found their way closest to my heart. Meanwhile, and as such, each year after Santapalooza is over and the ground below the tree is buried in crumpled up paper, ribbons, bows, and tags, it’s not at all uncommon to find me rooting through the aftermath like a packrat for bits and pieces of anything that can be used again next season.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I reached into my “‘little drawer of tags” only to find this one from the very last Christmas present Gia would ever give Zack on his last one with us in 2018. Although it’s true that he took endless pieces of my heart with him when he left, as I sit here writing this, I am staring at a tag that in a perfect world would have been hanging on a gift for him, and I’m smiling from ear to ear.
I cannot tell you how many times I wandered back to where I’d left it this morning, picked it up, and literally held it to my heart, because this silly little thing means that he was here with us in the first place. I will cherish this unexpected treasure for as long as I’m alive and eventually pass it back to Gia, who I know will also cherish it for the same exact reasons I do. Despite all the pain, heartache, and sorrow he brought into our world at the end, the decade that proceeded his insanity that we had him whole and healthy was one of the greatest gifts of our lives.
If there is just one wisdom that I’ve acquired on my journey thus far that I could “gift” to all of you, it’s that grieving the deaths of the people we’ve loved and lost is one of the highest honors and utmost triumphs of our existence. To have loved and been loved by those we were connected to enough to grieve is a privilege that not everyone gets to have. The truth of the matter is that when we get to the very end of the road with those we’ve loved and lost, the only “gifts” that will have really mattered is knowing that that WE HAD THEM and THEY HAD US! The abundance of true joy that I’m feeling right now is proof positive of what I’ve long known to be true, that “Death Is Nothing At All” and I am still the most blessed living queen that has ever reigned on this Earth.
Said goodbye, turned around, and you were gone, gone, gone. Faded into the setting sun – slipped away. But I won’t cry, ’cause I know I’ll never be lonely, for you are the stars to me. You are the light I follow.
Merry Christmas to all you beautiful people who took the time to read this Diary entry. If, like me, you celebrated Jesus’s birthday with a person missing from your table, know that they’re saving you a seat at the table where we will dine with our Lord and Savior eternally. Until that day comes, try and remember that although the bodies that packaged their souls were only ever meant for us to borrow, the precious love and memories they left behind are ours to keep forever. Just as this tag found it’s way back to me in the unexpected way that it did, someday those borrowed gifts we had to give back will find there way back to us when we finally get to see them again.
Who is making the world crazy sometimes? Why is it so?
Umm, HELLO? It’s HUMAN BEINGS who make the world crazy sometimes! See, also, these poignant and powerful lyrics to one of my lifetime favorite songs by one of my lifetime favorite bands:
Out in the street somebody’s crying. Out in the night the fires burn. Maybe tonight somebody’s crying – reached the point of no return. Oh, my eyes they see but I can’t believe. Oh, my heart is heavy as I turn my back and leave. Like the eagle and the dove, fly so high on wings above when all you see can only bring you sadness. Like a river we will flow. On towards the sea we go when all you do can only bring you sadness out on the sea of madness. Somewhere I hear a voice that’s calling. Out in the dark there burns a dream. You got to hope when you are falling to find the world that you have seen. Oh, my eyes they see but I can’t believe. Oh, my heart is heavy as I turn my back and leave. It’s madness! The sun don’t shine out the sea of madness. There ain’t no wind to fill your sails. Madness!
It’s the darkest, most twisted, and tragic truth of all. This world we live in can, indeed, drive even the best us to literal insanity. The best that we can do is just “the best that we can do” while trying to keep our mind and not our eyes focused on what lies beyond the vail.
Let’s be honest people – humanity is not for the faint of heart, and only the strongest survive it relatively unscathed with their heart and soul in the one cohesive unit from whence they first began. Don’t get me wrong, the hope is still very much here, it’s just this fucking WORLD and all the people in it that destroy our vision of eternity and desecrate our spirit.
I keep mymind’s eye focused on The Cross to keep from drowning in the sea of madness. These days, I see myself as an actual risen phoenix ever soaring above it all. My gravity defying steel wings may be invisible, but trust me when I say they’re behind me. I’m forged of fire and Light and power and grace, all of which are impermeable and infinite.
As and aside, I find it no coincidence that the day I saw this question posed on Quora, I had just spent the morning drive to school with my daughter listening to this song, because that’s how my beautiful life works. I was explaining to her how when I was just about her age and first stumbled upon this song, every time I’d listen to it I would literally close my eyes and imagine that I was an albatross flying high above the sea. Then, she stopped me:
No, momma, you are NOT an albatross. You’re something so much better than an albatross.
Little did she know that not two minutes after she got out of the car, I had to pull into a parking lot near her school to contemplate the magnitude of what she’d said. Based upon the fact that after she’d spoken those beautiful words I was immediately flooded with emotions, I knew I needed to stop and sit with my thoughts so that perhaps they’d come full circle. So, I googled the word “albatross” and this is something I found:
If you describe something or someone as an albatross around your neck, you mean that they cause you great problems from which you cannot escape, or they prevent you from doing what you want to do.
Wow! Just WOW! When I think of all those years gone by that I’d pictured myself as that spectacular bird just soaring across the open water, I’m astonished. Up until today, it was a correlation that I was proud of, but how could I have been so wrong? Although an albatross is, indeed, a formidable creature, it’s life isn’t exactly the stuff of dreams. Sure, they can ride the wind for hours on end with neither rest nor flap of wing, and can go years without ever touching solid ground, but they’re also very lonely, constantly in a state of survival, and never really find a stable home.
Truth being told, I suppose that I really was an albatross for too many years to count. Perhaps that’s why I never realized that such connotation about myself was negative. Even more truth being told, in so many ways, I used to be the albatross around my own neck. Until I found a better set of wings, I’m the one who prevented me from doing all of the things I wanted to do.
That was then, this is now, and good GRIEF was my daughter right when she said I was “something so much better than an albatross”. I’m a fucking risen QUEEN, my wings are made of FIRE, and although my “phoenixing above all this madness” does keep me afloat more so than not, my metaphorical feet are always on the ground now at the place where I call home: ME.
I completely understand what you are saying my friend, I’ve been where you are. Even to this day, I am a “fifty-TWO-good-to-be-true” UNVALIDATED child of parents who refuse to “hear or see me”. But guess what? THOSE DAYS ARE GONE NOW, because as hopefully you yourself know by now, it is job number ONE of an unvalidated child turned adult to be reparent yourself, REVALIDATE yourself, and then keep doing it over, and over, and over again. It is unclear by the title of this question whether you are referring to “children” you may have one day, or “children” you already have. In either case, always remember:
THE HAMMER DROPS WITH YOU!
If and when you are ever faced with a scenario wherein you don’t feel as though you are validating your children’s feelings, close your eyes and picture yourself as a child at the age that they are in that moment and remember how it felt to be you. It is probably obvious to anyone reading your question that you are clearly aware of this “issue” you’ve had in your own past and desperately don’t want to repeat your family’s history. Not only is that admirable, but it’s MORE than half the steps you need to keep going in the parenting direction you want to go. Look, I’m not generally a huge fan of “looking back” at the past, because, THE PAST IS DONE AND OVER! That being said, there are certain instances when our hindsight really is “20/20” – especially when it comes to our own children. I wish you well in your parenting venture my friend. Raising kids is not for the faint of heart, and sadly not enough people doing it are actively breaking those SICK familial gifts that just keep on giving.
For every other person who “shows the world” nothin’ but the lollipops and rainbows in their lives, there’s the ones like me who are here to keep things REAL! I hit the ground this weekend and leveled the YEARS of blood, sweat, tears, and toil slaying my dragon. Literally, and not metaphorically, all that hard work went in the fucking toilet. Yes, my friends, even phoenixes crash and burn, especially when what’s eating her alive is living, breathing spider web that is currently trying to devour my babies.
For now, I’ll just have to forgive myself with all the power and grace I am, get the crown back up on my head, pick up my sword, and put this bitch to sleep again. I am only as weak as my very worst enemy, which as for now has just become me. This, too, shall pass, and, “Just for today, I will try to live through THIS day only”.
The next time you see me, I’ll be at one of the most MAGICAL places on this planet with the Mona Lisa gearing up to return and face a dragon. Oh, and by the way, I will NOT rest until the day that FUCKING Venom suit is finally off my kid’s body. In the meantime …
My Dearest Cat:
I can see the weight there in your eyes. I can feel the thorn in your side. Your knuckles are bruised from a losing fight (again). The road we’re on’s not a dead-end street, even with the glass broken underneath our feet. You KNOW the day will break this Sunless night. THE SUN WILL RISE! You haven’t lost your Light – THE SUN WILL RISE! YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT! You’ve been stuck in a storm like this before and felt the wind raging at your door. We couldn’t move, we couldn’t breathe, we couldn’t find a way out. Still those clouds all disappeared and you and I finally made it here, maybe just so you could hear me say: THE SUN WILL RISE! YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT! I already know that you can see it, even though it’s so hard to believe it. It’s times like now you just need to hold on to your faith. YOU are the answer to our prayer, and I swear when TOMORROW comes … THE SUN WILL RISE. IT’LL BE ALRIGHT!
Love you FOREVER …
“ME”
{Adaptation from “The Sun Will Rise” by Kelly Clarkson}
I’m on a wickedhouse cleaning tangent these days, ’cause even us Lights in the dark have their limits. I mean, c’mon, I may be a queen, but I’m only a mortal one, so, Jean-Claude Van DAMN thank you …
BOUNDARIES!
They’re what’s for breakfast, and for lunch and dinner, and for midnight frigging snacks. I wasted far too many years and far too much of my precious energy not understanding that the people who were meant to be in my life would only be sticking around if I say so.
I am power, grace, and beauty forever rising, and though I will always love human beings with warm blood running through their veins, holding space in my almost bottomless heart for those who can’t hold the same space for me is just not in my wheelhouse. As you may have heard me say in the past if you’ve been paying enough attention in here, I have had to the devil himself for crimes against me and mine that should NEVER have been forgiven. My point being that at this juncture on my journey, although I may often and even quickly extend grace and forgiveness to the sometimes undeserving masses, I don’t really spend much time waiting around for people to change. I have no time for toxic human wastelands and the negative energy that emits from their bubble.
Hi everyone, it’s me, CAT! I am THE nicest BITCH you’ll ever wanna know, but these drinking straws of mine are PRICELESS. So, if you really, REALLY want one of ’em, you best bring your A-Game for me, ’cause momma ain’t playin’ around no MO! I’m in this to WIN it, and lions don’t associate with sheep. Unless, of course, they’re having them for dinner! But hey, THAT’S a different story for another day!
I gotta big ole shiny Queendom I’m runnin’ over here with just enough people in it who do hold space for me, so, I no longer accept scraps, bullshit, or anything less than what I bring to the table from anyone. I may be alone for the time being (and maybe even for the rest of my journey here if that’s how it’s meant to be), but I’m definitely not lonely. For those “most unfortunates” who don’t end up making the cut? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m NOT sorry ’boutcha. The happiest, smiliest, nicest bitch EVER landlord from either Heaven or Hell, depending on who you are, and the rent is way past due. So, say goodbye and hit the road … pack it up and disappear! You better have some place to go, ’cause you can’t come back around here.
… because unless you know where my “homecoming queen” has already been and the battles she’s fought and won by now, you just can’t understand how truly powerful this picture of her really is. But seriously though, someday we’ll sit back and laugh as all those silly haters that just ain’t her and won’t ever be her are choking on the ashes from her fire.
I spent more than 40 years living trapped inside my own mind. Then, I escaped it, only to find that it wasn’t so bad in there after all. It took me a minute to make peace with my own chaos, which as it turns out, had more to do with my environment and not what was “inside my mind”. Once I changed my sceneryand the majority of the people in it, though, I found that my mind is an entire fucking WONDERLAND of power and grace, love and beauty, creativity, whimsy, empathy, and blind faith that not everyone was apt to either appreciate or handle.
Once I made peace with myself and truly epic space between my ears, I stopped trying to run away from it, moved the HELL back in, took a few pictures down, hung a few back up, and now I rarely ever leave it. Sounds kinda crazy, right? Indeed, I know this … but it doesn’t make it any less true.
…but loving in hindsight – that won’t work for my life. Let me forget all that went wrong.
As far as that “loving in hindsight not working for my life”? That was the old me … THIS IS THE NEW … and new me is okay with whatever, however, and whenever it takes to either understand or not understand why certain things and people happen in my life.
After all is said and done, it doesn’t really matter, ’cause the proverbial shit is ALWAYS gonna hit the fan. This road I’m on is still rollin’ on anyway. As long as it takes me “anywhere”, anywhere is better than nowhere, and my life is too fucking beautiful to just give up now. I’m not just a Cat … I’m a REAL Cat, my friends … and the last time I checked, cats always land on their feet!
INSIDE OF ME
Always waiting for something – searching for one thing – and I know it has to be there somewhere. On this show without knowing the way this is going, as long as it takes me anywhere. There’s life and there’s one dance – and there’s fate and there’s one chance – to find out who I wanna be, and I know it’s inside of me. I look to the far side – searching for daylight – something that is mine, all my own. But loving in hindsight – that won’t work for my life – let me forget all that went wrong. There’s life and there’s one dance – and there’s fate and there’s one chance – to find out who I wanna be, and I know it’s inside of me. There’s love and so much more that waits behind that door. There’s so much that I wanna see, and I know it’s inside of me. {3 Doors Down}
Once again, I’ve stolen – ahem – I mean “borrowed” someone else’s words to convey a message I need to convey. So, with that …
We’ve got a long way to go, and a long memory. We’ve been searching for an answer always just out of reach. Blood on the floor. Sirens repeat. We’ve been searching for the courage to face our enemies. When they turn down the lights, we’ll hear our battle symphony – all the world in front of us! If our armor breaks, we’ll fuse it back together. Battle symphony – lease, let’s not give up on ourselves. And our eyes are wide awake for our battle symphony. For our battle symphony. They say that we don’t belong. Say that we should retreat. That we’re marching to the rhythm of a lonesome defeat. But the sound of our voices puts the pain in reverse. No surrender, no illusions, and for better or worse … If we fall – get knocked down – pick ourselves up off the ground. When they turn down the lights, we’ll hear our battle symphony – all the world in front of us! If our armor breaks, we’ll just fuse it back together. Battle symphony. Please, let’s not give up on us. And my eyes are wide awake for our battle symphony.
{Words Adapted from Linkin Park’s “Battle Symphony”}
Okay, that’s all for now. Oh, wait, except for this: Phoenixes don’t fall – WE RISE – and we always stick together, even when we’re flying solo! I love all THREE of you!
Fade it out into the light. All these years we never get it right. I need to let it go. I need to let it go. I NEED TO LET IT GO!
‘Cause, sometimes it’s just like that, and guess what? THAT’S OKAY! Indeed, it’s true: “Your life is YOUR life”! We only get one spin around this globe each day, and we don’t know when that last spin’s coming. Life’s too fucking precious to let anyone or anything “club you into dank submission” and steal your fucking Light. So?
Just Say NO!
LET IT GO!
Never feel bad for not feeling bad when the people, places, and even some memories don’t make the final cut. You’re allowed to be happy, at peace, and free from the deadweight of all those toxic and sometimes parasite infested fronds. The past is only a point of reference, my friends, not a place to hang pictures and call home. Besides, you can’t grow any new leaves without losing the dead ones first.
The garden of your life has been patiently waiting for you, my friends, and it needs you to help it become healthier and more fruitful. GET TO PRUNING! While you’re busy trimming it up and clearing out the weeds, here’s another one of those songs you can sing to yourself as you’re practicing the ultimate self love and letting some of them dead leaves go.
LET IT GO
Wait it out ’til the light. Take a breathe, say good night, but don’t ever go away. Wait around to find the time. Only you can take what’s mine, but don’t ever go away. I’ll be waiting’. I need to let it go. Fade it out into the light. All these years we never get it right. I need to let it go. No more reasons to deny that I believed that you were mine. I need to let it go. I need to let it go. I NEED TO LET IT GO! A chance to change or stay the same. One night without the blame that’ll never go away. Only you can make it right – to walk away and have no fight – but don’t ever go away. I’ll be waiting. I need to let it go. Fade it out into the light. All these years we never get it right. I need to let it go. I need to let it go. I NEED TO LET IT GO! No more reasons to deny that I believed that you were mine. I NEED TO LET IT GO! {Cavo}
When my son was a teenager, he started sending me songs to communicate his feelings, often in the wee hours of the night. Until then, because of the trauma he’d experienced in his fucked up, toxic, and beyond dysfunctional “childhood” courtesy of his dad and me, he’d been keeping his broken feelings buried and was unable to verbally express the depth of his jaded emotions.
The first song he ever sent me was at age 16, not long after I’d moved out of our family home for the third and final time just days before my nervous breakdown. The song was “Remember Everything” by Five Finger Death Punch, who of course are now my favorite band (and Ivan one of my favorite humans and friends), but until I got that “text heard ’round the world”, I’d never even heard of them. The text came through without any words … just the link to the song … BUT … there were no words necessary. Once I’d listened to it, I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me:
Mom, I love you, but I need you to know that I REMEMBER EVERYTHING!
He remembers? Remembers EVERYTHING? What the FUCK have I done to my only son?
I’m not gonna lie, folks, THAT was one literal and not metaphorical hell of a rough night for me. If you’ve ever listened to that song before, I’m certain you’ll understand why, and just for the record, if you’ve never heard that song before and have a history of childhood trauma, listen to it and you’ll understand why! Nevertheless, sending me that poignant and cryptic message at 3 o’clock in the morning was probably one of the best ways he could have possibly ever expressed exactly what he was feeling in the midst of all the undeserved wreckage and chaos that had become his life.
Needless to say, it was a pivotal moment in all our lives during a massive season of change, but hearing those words as they swept through my ears and washed over my own broken mind was an actual five finger death punch right through my fucking soul. Not only did it remind me of the countless ways I’d failed him, it also reminded me of the many things, I, too, “remembered” about my own dysfunctional childhood and how history was now repeating itself. It was devastating, but necessary, because as most of us know all too well, sometimes the truth has to hurt us before it can change us for the better.
Thereafter, if became a thing with us, and even to this day he lets me know what’s going on in his heart and mind with his random musical messages. Although some of the messages have been heavier than others, and some have been mind-numbingly ethereal, others have just been pure and simple love songs to let me know I’m still his best momma.
“That music thing” has now morphed into much more than just me and him communicating. These days, it’s also about me communicating with myself. Singing myself love songs is one of my favorite mental wealth hacks of all, and has now become a powerful way to not only love myself back to life unconditionally, but keep myself loved eternally.
“When The Seasons Change” is one of my life songs, of course by 5FDP, and as such, has made an appearance in this Diary more than a couple of times. It has truly been applicable to all the most important people, places, and seasons of my life, so, yes, I belt it out loud to myself all the time. Sometimes I have to tweak the words to my “love songs” to make them more applicable to me, as in the case below. Lol, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, life here in my Queendom moves to a rhythm of it’s very own, but hey, it’s all good. A queen’s gotta do what a queen’s gotta do … especially when the seasons are changing!
There’s a light in ME that tears me down to nothing. There’s an angel in MY eyes. There’s a hope inside THAT I CAN MAKE IT BETTER – I see right through MY disguise. When it rains it pours, and everybody stumbles. I won’t let them bring ME down. There’s a hope in ME that I will die for something. Was there fire in MY eyes? All this pain inside – Will it be this way forever? I can run but I can’t hide. When the seasons change … and I’M in for colder weather – look for ME on the divide …
So, take a wild guess what the best thing I possess is? If you guessed, “Free reign over the truly divine peace in my soul and the most beautiful Queendom a woman could possibly reign over”, you would be correct!
I once heard it said that everything feels like home when you fall in love with someone who loves you back, and knowing what I know about life, love, and everything in between now, I’ve found that nothing could be further from the truth. As it turned out, the most important person I could ever have fallen in love with is was myself.
I promise I’m not bragging, but it’s a prettyspectacular Queendom in which I reign … “alone, NOT lonely” … just me and my other best friend, Jesus. That’s right, people, I’m a Jesus loving FREAK with a divinely punctuated soul that’s on FIRE literally every single day of my life.
Please don’t get me wrong, though. GOD owns my soul, Jesus paid for it’s salvation, and the Holy Spirit brought the kingdom to dwell inside my body. As far as I’m concerned, that makes ME the safest fortress I’ve ever had, the most blessed woman on the face of this Earth, and God’s ACTUAL favorite daughter. It was me, and ONLY me, to whom my soul was meant to return. Wherever I am and wherever I go, I’M the best place that I can be, because I am my own true home, and the fire in my soul is the hearth that keeps the Lights on.
And yet another bittersweet “October 5th” is here. His birthday. At first, I was at a loss for what to write about this morning, but after having drafted another “Quora Answer” that I wasn’t sure when I wanted to post, it struck me that TODAY was the day …
What Does “True Freedom” Mean To You?
To me, true freedom is having made peace with not only his death, but death in general, because most assuredly I say to you:DEATH HAPPENS! No one’s getting out of here alive, and as hard as it is to live on this Earth without our loved ones who have moved on, being able to release them from the mortal shackles they wore (and yes, we ALL wear mortal shackles) is, perhaps, one of the kindest, bravest, and selfless things we can do, not only ourselves, but their dearly departed souls. When a person has reached a point in their life where they no longer suffer through the experience of death, living in the moment becomes second nature, because they live in constant awareness that “the present” is all that really matters.
True freedom is having arrived at place where your happiness and self-worth aren’t derived solely from achieving every pleasure, dream, or wish you’ve ever had, or having every “thing” you thought you needed. It’s closing your eyes at night then waking up the next morning with total clarity and peace in your heart, not always “needing more”, and fully capable of living in each moment as it is.
True freedom is understanding that some things just aren’t meant to be understood, because they’re NOT, and that having blind faith in all the things we can’t know isn’t as scary it seems. Even if we’re wrong about the things we deaf, dumb, and BLINDLY believe, we’re still “halfway right”. As far as I’m concerned, “halfway right” is still a 50/50 odd, and I will gladly bet on it.
Last, but certainly not least, true FREEDOM isfinally realizing that YOU are the only mortal person you can count on to survive this game with ’til the end, YOU are worthy of being your own best friend, biggest fan, and most loyal supporter, and YOU should be the greatest love story of your life! That’s when you’ve found your real home, by the way, and for the record, none of this “freedom”, or the peace of mind that comes with it, costs a single dime. Money is good to have, don’t get me wrong, but ZERO amounts of money can buy these freedoms for you. Only YOU can secure them for yourself.
I’m so thankful that I have achieved true freedom. I’ll close my eyes tonight knowing in my heart that I did the very best I could in everything I did, and that I’ve left no stone unturned. If I don’t wake up tomorrow? Imma be alright, ’cause I know what’s coming next and I’m not afraid. Now that I think of it? I think I’m starting to understand why I’m so fascinated by birds and anything with wings. Not only can they fly, but even more so than that, they always find the right place to call home. They’re beautiful, and free, and independent spirits, and anywhere they land can be their home. I guess in many ways I am like a bird. Sometimes I just watch them, because maybe I’m a little envious of all the ways they are free than I can only dream of. Then again, that’s probably how some people feel about me, so they watch me with envy, too, because I am free in all of the ways that they can only dream of. Maybe someday they will learn to just let go and GET HOME like me.
Happy Birthday and Godspeed Zachariah. Here’s hoping you are “Home” enjoying your eternal FREEDOM. I miss you, will always love you, and yes, you are still forgiven.
FREEDOM OF THE SEA
Standing on the shoreline, looking out to sea at oceans of Your hopes for me, just beyond my reach. I’ve been here on this island for way too many years, a prisoner of my comfort, a slave to my own fears. Doubt is saying, “got to stay”. Faith is saying, “sail away”! I know it’s safe here on the shore, but freedom is worth dying for. Liberation comes to those who hear the truth and sail with you. I’ll go where You are calling me. I’ll be what You meant me to be. I know the risk is real, but I wanna feel the freedom of the sea! With eyes to the horizon, mist against my face, I’ll leave behind this island in Your abounding grace. With Your word as my compass, I’ll chase my destiny. For I know the words of Your will can set my spirit free. Doubt is saying, “got to stay”, but I’m taking up the anchor! Faith is saying, “sail away”, and I’m heading for the deep! {Phillips, Craig & Dean}
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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