Dear Joey

Dear Joey,
I miss you.
There are so many things that make me think of you.
Frozen egg rolls from the grocery store, Chinese food from any Chinese restaurant, taking out the trash, songs I hear (Metallica and Iron Maiden...and a lot of other ones too).
I have a million and one memories of you. From the time we were tot's at grandma's, to when we were pre-teens in Hagerman and teenagers in Artesia. I remember laughing and joking and inside jokes. Horrible fights, one that included flying plastic ashtrays. Arguments and fights that drove mom and dad up the wall. I remember going to the movies, the mall and Hastings. I remember cruising around with music blasted. I remember deep conversations and one word conversations. I remember growing up with you.
I remember irritating you when I wanted you to rub my feetsies while we watched movies, beeeggging you too complete with a pouty lip. And you rolled your eyes and sighed. Then you smirked and you watched a movie and rubbed my feet. Every time. 
I remember you begging ME complete with your own pouty face for a ride from point a to point be, or to clean your room, or to play Dungeons and Dragons, or watch Pokemon or some sort of anime. 
My whole life you were my baby brother. We were inseparable when we were little.
I remember going to your highschool graduation, only a year and a few months ago. I was sooooo proud of you. We were ALL soooooo proud of you. You wanted to quit. But you didn't. You followed through. You did it! You GRADUATED! I have your graduation gown now. 
I remember when you "ran away" to Amarillo. You called me a week later after sleeping in the park and getting jumped. You assured me you could get me to where you were and get me back. I got to Amarillo and drove in circles and drove in circles. You had me so lost!! Finally we met up a gas station. You were dirty and stinky and bruised. But I smiled and I jumped on you and you smiled and caught me. Then you had me all over the place and turned around when we were trying to leave. For a genius, your navigation skills were questionable. Then I bought you tacos. We finally escaped Amarillo and got back to Happy convention. I got you a towel and you went to clean up and then you showed me the blister on the bottom of your foot that was the size of the entire ball of your foot! Because you walked halfway to Amarillo. You silly goose. 
I can hear your laugh in my head. I remember your bone crushing bear hugs.
My heart is broken that you are dead. It's so weird to have a dead brother. It's so weird to know I outlived my brother at the age of only 22. 
Even with my broken heart, I can't help but smile when I think about the peace you must be experiencing. The understanding you have of things that none of us can even comprehend. The love that surrounds you. Your relief of every burden.
I know you were having a hard time growing up. Adulthood scared you. I know you had a lot of anxieties and insecurities about life, even though you tried to cover them with your macho persona. You are free from all of those worries. How amazing you must feel! To have no regrets, no worries, no disappointments, no pain or suffering of any sort. You don't have to deal with the overwhelming emotions of growing up. You don't have deal with chemical imbalances. I am so happy for your soul, Baby Brother. 
I want to live my life better. I want to serve our God. I want to live my life, so that when I die, I will have the same freedom that you do. I want my heart to be right and I want my life to be right. I want our souls to re-unite and I want to know our God the way you now know our God. Your death is not in vain. I am not made bitter because of it, but am stirred to draw closer to the Father. 
I am having a little trouble finding my closure in your death, for the human nature part of me. The spiritual part of me has no doubt that you are so much better off than you've ever been in your life. 
I love you and I am so so so glad God loaned you to our family for 20 years. I would have loved to have many more years than that with you, but God calls on the soul in his time, not ours.
Love always,
Sissy Lala

This is exhausting

I'm so exhausted.
My heart is exhausted.
My brain is exhausted.
My body is exhausted.

I can't get it together. Work makes me want to pull my hair out. I can't focus. I can't get to a place where I feel "on top of it". I feel overwhelmed and I feel incapable of following through with all the tasks i've been assigned. 

When i'm at home, I can't get motivated enough to do everything I used to do. It takes 10 minutes to load the dishwasher but it seems like such a big task. Vacuuming and dusting and laundry and dinner and sweeping and mopping and making the bed and wiping the counters and cleaning the bathroom...all easy tasks that I never had a problem with. Now, the thought of trying to accomplish those things knocks me on my ass before I even start. 

I'm tired! I just want to feel level again. I just want to feel ok again. I need some security and I need some peace. I need my life back. Walking around in this haze just isn't gonna cut it. There's gotta be more to it. 

I just can't seem to place myself in reality. Everything is foggy. I feel like i'm just waiting for my real life to start. Which is sad, because I made that same statement approximately 2 years ago. And I am more or less where I was 2 years ago. 

What is wrong with me that I can't make the life changes that are very obviously necessary in order for my current situation to improve?

I'm sure everyone is tired of hearing me vent. I'm sure everyone rolls their eyes at me these days and they probably just want to strangle me because I don't do what I say I want to do. I complain about the same things over and over, and yet I am not willing to change those things.

So what is wrong with me?! This is so ridiculous!!! I want to go to sleep and wake up to a changed life. 

Only it's not that easy. Nothing appears to be easy for me :/. 

Adelaides Adventures: Ahoy Mate

     Though I have made some of these a string of Facebook posts, I've decided a blog may be more appropriate. My Facebook posts may seem a little less crazy if you know a little about the origin of this story.
    When I was about 12 or so my mom began homeschooling me and my 2 younger sibs (the older 2 having already had their fill of school and leaving it behind all together. My mother, the creative artistic being that she is, decided she would write a play and the characters would have some reflection of a characteristic from each 5 of us kiddos. I dont believe the play was ever finished but my mom and I have enjoyed playing off the story from time to time.
     The first three characters in this incomplete play were created to reflect my oldest sisters undeniable bossy tendencies (she's the oldest, it comes with the territory), my older brothers "macho maness syndrome" (though he's really a softy), and my odd, random and humorous obsession with imaginary chickens (I did eventually grow out of that). That leaves 2 characters in the making.
      Here is my spin on Serenity Jones original play...please note I have express permission  from Serenity Jones to turn her play into a story. She may even contribute more of her brilliance through out this little story.


       I am Adelaide Renae...chicken farmer of an isolated island ran by a queen who insists I answer my shell phone at every ring and who's chickens have recently been threatened by a sea sailing pirate who has happened upon my island.
    "Ahoy!" I said to this mangy traveler. I am on orders from my queen to intercept travelers and ensure they do not bother her unless absolutely necessary. There is never a necessary reason to bother Your Royal Highness. "Aye, Cap'n Critter it is." Was he eyeing my precious chickens? "Cap'n is it? And what is it you're a Cap'n of?" I shoo-ed my clucking friends behind me as discreetly as possible. "Well a Cap'n of a ship o' course. The frightening Pirate of the seas, Cap'n Critter. Why aren't you trembling in your boots? Aye. It's been a long trip and those chickens are perfect for a camp fire roast." He smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together as his eyes went from chicken to chicken. "I have never heard of a frightening pirate named Critter. And quite frankly you don't frighten me at all. And also Cap'n my flamingos do not like to be called chickens." My chickens clucked out their most flamingo-ey clucks, none of which sounded flamingo-ey in the slightest. Cap'n Critter gave me a look of suspicion. "Not chickens you say? Well poppet they surely look like a chicken to me, now don't they? Tell me what is it that makes these very chicken-y flamingos not chicken." "Cap'n Critter I am insulted you would compare my rare flock of miniature flamingos to such a common bird as a chicken. How absurd. How much rum have you had Cap'n?" "Not nearly enough poppet but there's plenty more of that. Its chicken i'm on the hunt for now aint it. Say poppet your miniature flamingos look a little pale." "Well don't you know anything at all about a flamingo? All pink flamingos are white after a bath Cap'n. Now if you please it is past the flamingos nap time. These birds are on a strict routine Cap'n." "Aye poppet, you haven't seen the last of me. If I don't find a chicken soon, it'll be your flamingos im after, it will. There'll be plenty of time for you to find me frightening then." The Cap'n gave quite an effort at a menacing laugh that was not menacing at all.
      I Adelaide, the ever sly chicken farmer that I am, have convinced said Pirate that my chickens are in fact pink flamingos that have just had a bath, which explains their absence of color. Adelaide: 1; Pirate: 0. Well now the Pirate has moved along on a hopeless mission for chicken (mine is the only flock as they were specifically ordered for the queens gourmet meal, and the queen has demanded I be the only chicken farmer on the island.) The chickens are emotionally exhausted from their traumatic morning. Not to mention their efforts at flamingo acting. None of us are the least bit thrilled when the shell phones begins shrieking. ""ADELAIDE!" The chickens stare at the shell phone with terrified eyes. They are all expecting the call when the queen has decided what chicken entree she shall explore. I dutifully pick up the shell phone. "Your highness". "Adelaide. I noticed you have a league of chickens following around. I do hope those will not end up on my dinner plate. You know I do not eat chicken. Be sure to have the chef know the only meat I eat is the freshest sea food."