I learned it bywatching you.

Tim Hawkins summed up this song with "My son got mad 'cause I worked all the time, he grew up to me a jerk just like me. And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, and some other poetic stuff."

John Mayer sang "Fathers, be good to your daughters. Daughters will love like you do." A powerful PSA from 1980's is "I Learned It By Watching You"

The thing is, children learn from their parents, if they want to admit it or not. Ultimately, in the end, we have the choice to act on what we learned and what we were taught, but it doesn't mean that it lessens the imprint on us.

There was never a time my father was without a bear can in one hand. His breath always smelled like beer, usually Milwaukee's Best. He'd sit in front of the computer, with his bag of potato chips and his beer can, watching the telly.

I learned so much from watching him. I learned how to be a good girl. I learned how to act on and to lead people on into thinking everything is fine. I learned how to play the game that makes people think that life is fine and I learned how to throw up walls. I won't even go into what I learned from my mother.

And then it scares me -
what will I teach my children?


Every lament is a love song

My dad's dad died in 1975.
My Grandma Dixie (dad's mom) died when I was eight.
My Pawpaw (Mom's dad) died when I was nineteen.
My Mawmaw (Mom's mom) died when I was twenty-three.
There was my great uncle, my great aunt, etc, etc, you get the picture. I've been to more funerals than weddings in my lifetime.

I've had various friends die over the years. Most were ones I used to be close to but then fell out of touch with. One I used to be close to, then we had a fight and never made up. Others, I just got busy and selfish with life and we just didn't talk anymore. And it sucks. I have various memorials set up in my room to various people: a stuffed pee cup for Nick (LONG STORY), the teddy bears Rachel sent me long ago, my grandpa's beanie baby lady bug, the list goes on.

Hell, I just don't grieve well, I don't think. I stuff and I stuff and I stuff and I stuff. My puppy (Pirate wasn't even a year old when he died) died 10 years ago and I still haven't fully processed it.) But my biggest fear is that I am going to die young. I'm plagued by health problems. What if I die young? What if I leave friends behind asking the same questions I am asking now? What if it isn't my health that takes me, but a car accident? Something else? Will I leave behind a legacy?

I just can't help but wonder these things. I'm terrified of dying.

Mrs. Tanner: Sweetie, I'm seventy-four years old, I'm ready to go.
J.D.: Yeah, but with dialysis, you could live another...eighty or ninety years.
Mrs. Tanner: I think you're being a little irrational.
J.D.: No I'm not.
Mrs. Tanner: Everybody dies sometime.
J.D.: No they don't.


Dr. Cox: (In mock crying voice) But what about our duty as doctors? (Back to normal voice) Look. This is not about Mrs. Tanner's dialysis, this is about you. You're scared of death, and you can't be; you're in medicine for chrissakes. Sooner or later, you're going to realize that everything we do around here, everything is a stall. We're just trying to keep the game going, that's all. But, ultimately, it always ends up the same way.


I'm terrified of death, which is odd considering I was hospitalized in 2006 due to being suicidal and in a crisis home for the same reason in 2009. But I'm terrified of death. It scares me senseless. and that's just... I don't even know. I'm out of words to describe how it makes me feel. But I know that my health is falling apart. I know I'm not a healthy 24 year old.

And it breaks my heart that one day, likely while I'm still young, my friends will be wrestling with the same gut-wrenching questions that I wrestle with.

Every lament is a love song,
yesterday, yesterday,
I still can't believe you're gone...


Because a thankful heart is a happy heart

"I give thanks for this day, for the sun in the sky!"

It's Thanksgiving 2011. As I sit in northern Minnesota watching The Big Bang Theory wearing pajamas and mismatched socks and a mug of Nutcracker Sweet tea, I realize that I have so much to be thankful for.

I am thankful for funny TV shows, such as The Big Bang Theory, Scrubs, and How I Met Your Mother. They allow me to laugh and just enjoy things.

I am thankful for friends. Friends are family, too. I am thankful for friends that make sure I am no alone on holidays and that send me random texts throughout the day. I am thankful for random facebook wall posts, random emails, et al.

I am thankful to be alive. After the epic medication fail right after back surgery, after being diagnosed with an eating disorder, after medical test after test, I am grateful to be alive. Even though days are difficult and things like fibromaliga suck, at least my doctors are trying are to give me answers.

I'm thankful for video games! They are fun to play and give me an escape from life. And they let my mind wander and explore things.

I am thankful for gluten free food and that companies are getting better and making gluten free food.

I am thankful for comfy clothes.

I am thankful for my honey dew shampoo that makes me smell awesome.

I am thankful for the Tea Gardens! Mmm, bubble tea.

I am thankful for going to a school where there are disability coordinators who work with me and don't belittle me.

I am also really thankful for a break from school. I was approaching a nervous breakdown and about to totally fall apart from stress. Which would be bad. I don't think exploding and randomly falling apart is generally advised. I am still stressed to high heaven but hopefully the break will give me a chance to breathe.

I like writing out this thankful blog post! ^_^


Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made

I still haven't forgotten that autumn day, ten years ago. November 28, 2001. It's kind of hard to believe. I was depressed. And by depressed I mean really freaking depressed. I was fourteen years old. And I had a plan to end my life.

I likely would have gone through with it, had a friend not intervened and notified the police. Had the police not shown up at my small Christian school. I'm told I'm lucky I wasn't taken into custody or admitted to the hospital.

But even more important was that was the day I realized my dad didn't care. I was fourteen years old, depressed, and realized where my dad's priorities were. My school principal had called my church youth pastor, and my youth pastor informed my father. Less than a couple days later, my father no longer cared that I had had a plan to end my life. He was back to his old self.

This is part of why I struggle to view God as a father. Logic tells me that not all fathers are like that. I KNOW good fathers. I KNOW good, Christian fathers and I know good, atheist fathers. I know there are good Jewish fathers, there are good agnostic fathers, it goes on and on and on. But the fact of the matter is I can't wrap my mind around the concept that the father God is like is nothing like the father I had. Someone who was never there when I needed him. Someone who always had beer in the fridge, but not always a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread.

It gets harder and harder this time of year. Well-meaning people ask if I'm going home for the holidays, and I never know how to answer. I shrug it off, but it still hurts. The ache still lies inside. I have a place to go for the holidays, but gosh, it's not the same.

and I don't know where I'm going with this. :P

Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left, cleaning up the mess he made

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too


After all this time? Always.

It's been five years since my grandfather died. Five years this past August. And I still miss him. I miss him I miss him I miss him. He was the closest thing to a father I had. I recently found this piece I wrote sometime in 2007. Maybe it was an essay. Maybe it was a monologue. I have no clue what it was, but I feel that it's something I want on my blog so here it is.

A Ladybug's Lament - written summer 2007.
It's been nearly a year since you lost the war. Times flies faster than what you expect, and the pain is still as strong. Although the war was lost, the battle was won. You were strong - a trooper, a warrior, a soldier.

You always kept your morale high. Even when you were at your sickest, you'd still have the strength to tease me. You'd always have something to say to make me laugh. You might of never said the words “I love you” to me, but you did it without speaking.

You are my inspiration. You were always humble; you always had something good to say about people. When I think about giving up in this world, I think about you and how you didn't give up. I remind myself of how you were a fighter - and that is what I want to be.

I can't believe it's been so long. Do you have any idea how many lives you touched with your gentle sense of humor and your loving ways? You had a way of touching every life you came in contact with. You touched the doctors who treated you and you touched the family who loved you. You touched those who just stopped in to say hello.

I have always been told that home is where the heart is. However, my heart is broken because you're not here to make it “home” anymore. You always fixed things for me when I was little. Can you fix my heart this time?

You're in a better place, and I rejoice for that. You no longer have the chains of cancer pulling you down. Are you turning cartwheels down the golden streets? I always longed to be able to do a cartwheel. Will you do a few for me? One day, I'll join you. Together, we'll terrorize the angels and swing on the pearly gates. We'll be united again, and you can torment me once more.

Every time I see a ladybug, I think of you. I know when I see a ladybug somewhere, that you're there watching me. I know it is your way of saying you are still here with me. Even though you're gone, your spirit still lives on inside of those ladybugs. I don't believe in reincarnation. However, I have to wonder as I see those ladybugs if it is not actually you. Perhaps you are simply sending them from Heaven, as a sign that you are okay. They are a sign that you are still thinking of me, your “little maple leaf.”

“It don't matter where you bury me, I am home and I am free. It don't matter where I lay, all my tears be washed away.” (Jars of Clay, “All My Tears”). I often feel bad that we couldn't provide a better burial for you. We gave you what we had. I feel bad that there's not a proper tombstone at your grave. These trivial things don't matter in the big spectrum. Are you crying now? I'm crying as I'm writing this. When I greet you again, will you wash away my tears the way Jesus is washing away your tears now?

You are free, Pawpaw. You are no longer fighting the battle against cancer. You are truly an inspiration. You are truly the one I will always weep for. You are the one man who will always hold a place in my heart. You are my hero - I love you.


Nothing (To My Father)

I wrote this poem my senior year of high school spring semester. The assignment for class was to write a "tribute" or "dedication" poem to someone. The other students in this class wrote these mushy lovely poems to someone they admired or who they looked up to. Me? I took the exact opposite approach. I blew the socks off the creative writing teacher as this was his first year teaching and I guess he wasn't expecting that. That's me, breaking the norms! ;D

It has been revamped since then (I last modified it sometime in 2008 when I took creative writing at community college) because I didn't like the format that the teacher made me stick to. So I tightened the language, made it in a style and format I liked, and this is the final project. I still have the original somewhere but I like this quite a bit better. ;)

Nothing (To My Father)

I reflect upon the past,
wondering if I knew the truth
or if I was fooled, and what I knew was

What happened to make things change?
When did you quit loving me?
Did you ever truly love me, or am I

Stop tormenting me!
Yet why should you love me?
Whatever did I do; am I just

You used your tricks to harm me,
and wounded me by your words.
Some scars never heal,

Your priorities were distorted
Alcohol was your idol,
I realized I was simply

I believe Family is the most important thing
You claimed it.
Yet your actions proved otherwise,

The lies begins to come out,
I'm victim to your hypocrisy,
and fading into

As I learned the truth,
and free myself from your grasp
I realize that I was never

Starting live anew,
running free from the past
learning to live without you, no longer

And in the end,
I realize at last
it is not I, but it is you who is

If only in my dreams

I'm dreaming tonight of a place that I love
Even more than I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas,
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
Christmas eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Listen to Josh Groban sing I'll Be Home for Christmas!

I know I'm not in a war zone. I know I have a place to go for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. But it doesn't replace the ache that lives in my heart. It doesn't replace the loneliness. And I miss the Christmases of my childhood which will never exist again, because both my grandparents are dead. Mawmaw will have been gone one year come Thursday, Paw's been gone for five years now. Christmas just hasn't been the same since Christmas 2005 - my first one without a father and my last one with my Paw.

I don't remember many Christmases before the divorce. They split the summer between first and second grade. I remember getting my tape (as in cassette, yo. Old skool!) deck for a present one year and headphones with it, only to discover it had a microphone jack, not a tape deck.

After the split, it was pretty simple. I'd spend Christmas Eve with my father, then he'd drop me off at the grandparent's for Christmas day, and then I'd go to my mom's for the evening. Some may call it chaotic, but it was what I was used to and all I really knew. And there'd be fun stocking stuffers and good food and presents and FAMILY. But all that is but a distant memory. I don't have it anymore.

I spent Christmas 2006 and New Years 2007 in the Psych Ward. To put it simply, it sucked. Don't ask me what happened on Christmas 2007. I think we went to Maw's after everyone else had left and spent the rest of the day in the new apartment. '08, '09, and '10 I've spent with friends, and will again for '11. Don't get me wrong - I am blessed and grateful to have friends who open up their hearts and home and treat me as one of the family. It's a blessing beyond measure.

But it doesn't heal the ache.
And I'm still homesick for something that doesn't even exist anymore, and I'm not sure every truly did exist.


have you ever heard of a greater love?

This is the day 6 years ago that I decided to write about a youth retreat I'd gone on the previous weekend. It was junior year of high school. To set the setting: I was still living with my father and I was homeschooled. I was attending the Church of Christ. I was full force into self injury, and starting to lapse into an eating disorder. I am not editing grammar or words, but to think the day that my faith was strengthened was six years ago, only to be shattered less than a year later. Only to be torn to shreds. That year I started to climb out of depression, to see the light, to see HOPE. But then senior year happened, and it all fell to shit.


This retreat..blew me away. and I shall share it with you. Because you are all cool people..and I can.

Friday wasn't much. It was Friday. Not much happens on Friday. Just cause it's Friday..'ya know?

I watched soccer tournments on Saturday..fun stuff..and attended an elective Saturday afternoon..which was great...

Saturday was the day. I broke. I’ve been breaking for awhile, and I just totally broke, and I didn’t tell anyone what all was going on. I mean, I can’t even talk about it. I’ve never shared this part of my life with anyone. I’m Angelique. I’m strong. And I made it through the morning fine. Had a blast watching soccer, and eating, and just being a kid, just hanging out and goofing around and hanging out. Which isn’t something that I do often. Finally, it happened. The floodgates broke. And I mean, I was to the point where I was crying so hard, that I couldn’t talk..or sing the words to the worship songs. And I just felt so totally empty inside. And I was. I was empty and broken. and I just sat there and cried. and cried. for at least fifteen twenty minutes…it started out as nothing then got harder…and I was so tempted to walk forward, but let all my fears ingulf me. Kinda like the morning message, when he was talking about fears. I let my fears consume me.

And why? Everything. Like they showed a video of Christ on the Cross…and I lost it. I’ve cut myself when he died for me? Come on! How could I be so lame? How could I turn to myself, when he died for me so I could have life? How could it be? And I’ve felt so empty inside lately, even when singing the worship songs this weekend, and I can’t make myself belive the Bible, like I know what it says, and I know it’s true…and I can’t make myself believe it.

And you know what amazed me more? I was sitting there with two other friends. My youth pastor and the rest of my church was way behind me. A sponser from another church came over to me and asked me if I was alright. And he prayed for me and told me he would be contining to pray for me. It just amazes me. That I'll most likely never see this guy again (unless I'm at other local Ohio events and see him)..and it's just..wow..and he also came over to me on Sunday and told me he was..and it's just amazing..it blows me away..that someone who doesn't even know me can care about me and want to pray for me. That someone who knows nothing about me, my bitter past, my unknown future..and want to help me. And it hurts..and it heals.. 'ya know?

On Sunday..I broke. Again. I'm tired of breaking..but I realized that I do. It's true. I just like God. I don't really love him, I don't really have the burning passion I should. I have so much in my life eating up at me. But I'm too scared to recommit. Which is why I didn't this weekend. Cause I always blackslide. I always fall back into my old habits. So why should I even try to change when I know I'm going to fall back into what I once was agian, 'ya know?

And I feel so empty inside. And broken. And I like God. I don't love Him. and I hate it. Both times..my youth minister asked me if I was alright and if I needed to talk. I told him I didn'tknow if I was alright and that I didn't need to talk..orthat I din'dtk know if he could help..becuase I'm just hurting so much..hurting beyond words I guess?

My elective Saturday night was just plain out spiffy. Chris is so crazy and great. God forgives me, and I really need to forgive myself. I've sinned against God, and I need to realize that. I need to realize that God's given me forgiveness, and I need to let it go. I just can't sit there staring at my sins, and just be like..whoa..that's cool...and not do anything. I need to get in gear, and do something wtih it.

I didn't eat much on Sunday...and so of course, I got told I needed to eat..but I still didn't, and I really don't care. I didn't take communion either. And I feel bad about it, because I attend a church that believes you should take communion every sunday. But my heart isn't right with God. And eveything is broken. So..I can't take it since everything is so wrong..

And I look at the bracelet I got. I didn't even get it when everyone else did..I was crying too hard to go up front..so I dashed up after it was over and grabbed one, but that's ok. Sure, it's too big, and just dangles on my wrist..but hey. I wear it for a double reason. Livestrong. They livestrong through cancer. I support that cause. I am a surviour. I dunno how many of you know that. But I'm a surviour. I had a tumour removed when I was four. Of course, everyone has friends and family members who suffer from cancer, I don't think there's a single soul on planet earth who hasn't been touched in some way, shape, or form by cancer. And in the same way, I can livestrong without cutting. I can livestrong in Christ.

And I'm seriously shutting up now.

I see this post, and long for that childlike faith to return. I'd already seen hell at that point and had no clue of the further flames of hell that would lick me again. How I wish I could stay innocent and naive. How I wish I could stay hopeful for such beautiful things.


I'm still fighting to walk towards the light

I've been told many times that I'm disabled because I'm demon possessed.
I've been told that I am depressed because I am not right with God.
I am told that if I just surrendered my mental health stuff to God, it would get better.
You know what?
It ain't that simple.

More than that?


You (general, not aimed at anyone today claim to love God and love His people. Yay! That's great! Go team you! Fight the power!

But don't cast judgement on me.
You have no idea.

Do you have any idea how many tears I've cried?
Do you know how many times I've broken down, alone, in a pile of tears because this so-called God hasn't chosen to heal me?
Don't you think I WANT, I CRAVE, more than ANYTHING to be healed?
And don't think you're coating it by staring at me, by whispering behind my back.
I'm not stupid and I'm not deaf.
I know.

I'm fighting every day to keep going, and some days the fight is harder than others.
So for someone to say such things, I'm afraid next time one of those things is said it's going to hit my Beresek Button and I will flip out on an innocent, well meaning person.

I juts wish people THOUGHT before they spoke. I feel that since I have crutches, I'm a magnet for people to spew their religion on me. =/