Wednesday, September 4, 2019

go big or go home, y'all

Y'all, this past weekend I decided to keep the hands and mind busy by painting my 3 section hallway.  And it was basically a long, drawn out torture-fest and I listened to lots of country music and played a game of Would you Rather all by myself.  ....  Would you rather be a professional house painter or a prostitute?  I actually had no quick answer for that one, and had to dig a little deeper with follow up scenarios  - would I be the kind of prositute that works off a street corner or the kind that works the daytime shift at the Hilton?  

And as far as painting goes, I'm pretty much of the school that prep work is for sissies.  And if Fireman Dave were here to see how much paint got on the hardwood floors, I feel confident that he would try to murder me in my sleep.  I'm feeling pretty good about my decision, however, and rest easy especially after inhaling 2 days worth of paint fumes.  

Y'all, my recent pattern has been to wake about 4:30 am to 5-ish, say a little whisper of a prayer that it not be so, and then get busy looking over the social media posts of the pretend happy people.  And I guess by that I mean, the people who are mostly oblivious to the real aches and pains of this life because they just haven't been put to the test yet.  Or maybe they think they have and totally need to be looking over a shoulder for what may or may not be lurking about wearing a t-shirt with their name on it.  ....  

These are the same people who tend to ask me regularly how I'm doing - most without really wanting an honest answer.  And I would dare to say, greater than 95% of them not having a clue of what my brain is really answering on the inside while I politely tell them that I'm ok.  Y'all, being ok is relative, I've come to learn... and the true answer, I suppose, would be that I'm okay for now.  Maybe for that moment in time that we spoke and I tried not to make full eye contact because it triggers  my cry reflex.  Along with lots of other stuff.    I told someone this week that we Walters are safe.  For today.  But I honestly can't commit to any further updates at this time. 

And as much as I hate to admit it, I carry a whole lot of anger toward the happy people right now.  Not exactly toward the actual people  -  because I crazy love y'all and wouldn't invite you into the dark depths of places I've been hangin' round recently for even a million dollars because it could very possibly kill you.  And y'all, I want for you, so much better.  I think I'm most angry at the actual happiness, and wonder why I didn't get the invitation to the Happy Store Grand Opening that obviously the entire world attended  - except for me. 

And I've also been asked twice in the last week, something that goes a little something like this:  What's next for Kristi?  ....

My patented response is a non-surprising, Help me Jesus, because I just don't have a clue.  As is fairly normal for me as there is, indeed, so much that Kristi Walters still to this day has to figure out -  and with multiple decades of questions and mysteries all piling up on top of it.  For fun I like to compare my current position in life to that episode of I Love Lucy - where Lucy and Ethel get jobs at the candy factory and can't keep up with the wrapping assembly line and end up just stuffing unwrapped candy into their shirts and mouths just to hide it from the mean supervisor lady.  I totally get that. Make mine dark chocolate please.  

And I have no idea if all the fight I've put into all my fights of late mean a darn thing or not.  Or if I'll end up any better than I was when the life tornado hit.  Or if I'll end up financially more stable and maybe only half as neurotic - but with the battle scars of stress and age stamped across my face like little squinty, stare marks that I've practiced and perfected into an art form with every City Council meet and greet.  


and in this portion of the blog was originally a long, drawn out explanation of what going it alone in a world full of togetherness really feels like - and it was basically a 3 page essay about sticking your favorite person in a closet and how life can be generally sucky.   And serious entertainment was to be had in the reading of my dead husband/closet hostage situation - but y'all, today turned out to be not so pretty and I decided that some things just don't need to be spoken out loud. *

But a lesson that stands out to me so clearly right now on a regular ol' Wednesday is how old friendships don't always stay the same after such a loss, because neither did I.  And I've learned that inviting new friendships also comes with some pretty dangerous waters - as a whole lot of people don't quite know what to do with a person who's already a whole lot all on her very own.  I was one lucky gal that Fireman Dave did, and that he rejoiced in my over the top meanderings and dealings with the outside world.  And that even when I was just a not quite blossomed 13 year old kid with some hit or miss qualities on the outside  - think, fairly large framed glasses and a possibly failed attempt at Charlie's Angels winged hair - that he recognized in me some untapped beauty ready to be grown into her own.  

And I guess that the most important thing that I've learned - mostly about myself  - is that my heart has hurt for about as long as I can remember - on and off over the decades.  Oh the stories I could tell and the names I could name.    But that it's been those hurts that have taught me to love on others maybe even to excess and extremes.  And as weird as that may sound, I'm thankful I came out of what I did with the ability to love at all.  So seriously, go big or go home, y'all.  

And as my faith continues to travel up and down the scale, I remind myself of the simple promise that God does indeed inhabit the praises of His people.  And on days like today when I couldn't come up with a praise or a thanks even if I tried - I have to hit it from another angle.  And that is with service.  Service of being present in the hotter than hell tennis matches and football games and late night parking lot sit and waits. And it comes with offers of help.  True, real, followed up and followed through offers of help - because somedays I can't seem to help myself, but I can bring you soup.  And I can pray for you - which I really do if I told you that I will - because even if God and I are having some broken communications these days, if I can talk to him about you, at least I'm talking to him.  

So I'm spending a lot of time of late trying to be to other people what I just can't seem to be for myself right now.  And if, while being the hands and feet of Jesus here on Earth, I happen to get his attention and the chance to discuss a few items of my own, I can work with that.  

*post script - seriously.  I was about to hit publish with the descriptive, tell all that is my trademark and I stopped and read my Bible verse for today.  1 Corinthians 4:5, Judge nothing before the appointed time, wait till the Lord comes.  He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts.  

It made me think.  It made me wait.  It made me discuss in private, only, some of the more detailed concerns of my heart and hoping someone Biblical is telling the darn truth about God doing the lighting and exposing.....    

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