What Do YOU Want??

So I've had this blog going for a few months now. During those months, I've been figuring out how to blog. I'm kind of slow with technology. I've also developed some great relationships with some readers over the last few months. All of this has been great.

Now, I'd love to hear what you as readers would like to see (or read, I guess). Would you like more posts (actually, I know I should be posting more...)? Would you like guest posts? More music? Has anything that I've said struck a chord and you'd like me to elaborate on that?Really, anything at all. I can take criticism too. You can comment here or message me on Facebook. I'd really, really (really!) appreciate it.

Over the next week, I'm going to be doing some planning and figuring out where I would like to go, and some input would be greatly appreciated.

And here's a music video, just cuz I can. Hopefully you'll get a little smile.

 

 

 

Love,

Jyllenna 

Lessons Learned in the Dementia Ward

This awesome woman is my grandma. She’s almost ninety years old, loves music of any kind, and would probably beat me in a fist fight. She also has Alzheimer’s. She lives in the dementia ward. She doesn’t know my name, my dad’s—her son’s—name, or really anyone else’s name. She isn’t even aware that her husband has died.

Sounds like pretty cruddy circumstances, doesn’t it? To be honest, I often think it is. Every time I go to see her, it breaks my heart. I hate that she doesn’t know the love of those who cherish her most. I hate that she doesn’t remember the good times in life. I hate that she can’t communicate with us. Every time I have to leave her, it breaks my heart to see her watching me leave, and then know that in a few minutes she won’t even remember than anyone came to see her.  

But every time I see her, I’m reminded of another side of the story. She is happier than she’s been in a long time. Even in a home with a bunch of people of all crazy types, she is always singing. She smiles. She laughs. She does knuckles and thumbs up (thanks to her awesome grandchildren teaching her). Some people say that she’s simply gone back to a happy place in life. While that may be true, I think there’s more to that story.

I think that right now, with her mind completely out of her control, all that’s left to show is who she truly is. All she has to give is what’s been growing in her heart. And what’s coming out of her is happiness—joy. Not even Alzheimer’s disease—a sickness that strips you of the ability to perform even menial tasks by destroying your memory—can steal her joy. No mental disease can change who she truly is.

Now, my grandma has not had an easy life—far from it, and she has not handled every circumstance in the best way. When she was young, she was teased because she couldn’t hear properly. After she got married, she discovered that she couldn’t have children, which brought scorn from other women. Then, when her and my grandpa adopted my dad and his brother, she lived in a constant state of insecurity. My dad’s brother ended up leaving home at fourteen because he had some major issues resulting from being shuffled through the foster care system for years. My grandma lost one of her most valuable treasures, and then she always had to live in the fear of my dad being taken away by his birth father—who was just a downright mean guy. She was scared to show too much love to my dad because she knew that the more she loved him, the more it would hurt if he were taken away. When my dad was ready to get married, she was really mean to my mom. She realized that my mom was going to take my dad away—her worst fear was coming true. Then, as Alzheimer’s started to take root in her brain, she became very difficult for us to be around. Her mind was changing, and she had no control of this. It scared her, and she responded in the only way she knew how. She fought. She fought against anyone trying to help her. She fought against anyone who she thought was a threat. It took her years to finally be in the place that she is today.

Her journey has been a difficult one, but she has finally arrived at a place of peace in her mind. While it may seem like the mental disease has won, nothing could be further from the truth. I see others in her ward. People who are grumpy. People who are downright angry at the world. I see people who are literally vegetables. Then I see her. No, she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t really know who anyone is. But she is still smiling and singing. She refused to give up the fight. She wouldn’t let a mental disease take away the very things that make her who she is.

There is something great in each one of us. I don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, or what’s been done to you. There is something unique and wonderful about you. This goes beyond your talents, or your perceived lack of talent. There is something so much greater than your amazing abilities in sports, academics or music. It’s the very core of you. It’s what’s buried under the crap that the world has thrown on you. If your mind were to shut down, you would probably lose all the talents that the world considers important, and all that would be left are the things you’ve been developing in your heart, whether it’s bitterness or the awesomeness that is you. There might be things that are trying to take your awesomeness away. Whether that is a mental disease, depression, a rotten friend, or horrible circumstances, you can’t give up. At the end of the day—at the end of your life—that uniqueness is what people are going to remember.

Love,

Jyllenna    

When Emptiness is an Addiction

This post is really hard for me to write. I’m not gonna lie; it’s a bit of a heavy post. But one that needs to be shared. If nothing else, for my own sake. This is sort of the conclusion of my story (for now…I’m only sixteen; there’s WAY more to come!) True to every story, it gets darker right before the happy ending.

So here we go (big breath)!

We finally moved, and I declared that I wanted nothing to do with my old city, church, or friends. Other than my best friend, who still lived there, I was so done. I thought that now that I was out, everything would get better.
Wrong.

Things. Got. Way. Worse.
Tensions in everyone in my family had been building up, and I guess finally moving out was all that was needed to let everything out. Things at home were not good. My brother and I were being homeschooled, which we had never done before. That was not working. At all. My brother was having some challenges in his schoolwork and my mom—who is gifted in a lot of areas—is not gifted to be a teacher. So that was not working out. My academics were going okay, though I was still adjusting to the new format of schoolwork. I was instead stuck in a crazy emotional state, and that was putting a lot of stress on my relationship with the rest of my family, especially my mom. Honestly, my dad dreaded coming home after work, because he knew he would probably have to sort out some big argument between me and my mom.

Like I said, my emotional state was really making things difficult at home. I was never happy—almost to the point of tears most hours. I cried in my bed until I fell asleep, which usually took a few hours, and then I didn’t want to get up in the morning because I didn’t see a point. I didn’t feel the need to do anything. My schoolwork and good grades had always been a big deal to me, but I even lost motivation to do those. I was also extremely angry, and anything could set me off. I ate barely any food, partly because I hated the way I looked, partly because I just liked the emptiness. I thought I was so fat. I was so disgusted with myself, both inside and out. Anytime I did eat, I wanted to hurl it all back out. And I tried, but I was never able to. Then I got angry at myself for that. I was a big ol’ mess. Here’s the thing, though. Everything that I hated about the other city was not a problem anymore. The people in our new church were really nice. I was making new friends. There was no girl drama, no gossip, no bullying. So why had things gotten so much worse emotionally?

I was still me. I hadn’t truly dealt with the things that had happened in our other city. I had chosen to respond to and deal with it the wrong way, and now I was paying the consequences. The pain and emptiness and sadness were all I had known for the past several months. Now, I was scared to feel anything else. I didn’t want to be happy, because I knew that something would happen that would ruin that happiness. I was hesitant to open myself up to new friends, because I had experienced such hurt. I had blamed others for all my problems, without truly dealing with my heart. I didn’t enjoy feeling this way, but I didn’t want to take a risk of feeling good again.

The emptiness had become an addiction. Kind of a scary thought. No, I wasn’t addicted to meth or alcohol, but this emptiness was wreaking just as much havoc.

As Christmas came, I got more down. All the happiness around me that usually made Christmas my favorite holiday just irritated me now. The day after Christmas, I wrote this in my barely-used journal

“I feel so hopeless right now. I just want to stay in bed and cry myself to sleep over and over again... I’m just falling. Sometimes I catch a branch and I can hold on. Those times the whole world is going great. But then I fall again. Lower than I was before… I wasn’t ready for hell on earth. I pray and I go to church, but I feel nothing…Any moment, I could break.” Yikes.

Then on December 31, at 1:07 in the morning, I wrote again. Same sort of thing. I had just come back from a birthday party for some friends, and I had felt so out of place every moment there. Not because anyone was mean to me—just the opposite. Everyone was really nice, but I just wanted to crawl in a hole and cry. I started seeing a counselor. She helped me to put everything in perspective. She helped me to move past the death of my grandpa, and to start letting go of hurts. Man, it was hard and painful. Every time I thought I had made progress, I fell flat on my butt, and I didn’t want to get back up again. It was still hard to get out of bed. And frankly, I wasn’t really sure how my relationship with God was going.

Then one day, after I had dragged myself out of bed, I was reading my Bible, and I found this verse.

I can lie down and go to sleep, and I will wake up again, because the Lord gives me strength. I think I did a double-take. Something so simple. Just waking up, and God cared about that. I think that was when my healing truly began.

My path to healing has been rough. I still slip up—a lot. I still feel waves of bitterness come over me. Sometimes I think that I was better off when I wasn’t happy. Some days are just plain hard, and I want to hide back under my covers.

But I keep going. Because I have friends that believe in me. I have parents that believe in me. I have a God that believes in me. Maybe you find yourself in the same situation. Maybe school is over, and everyone around you is happy, but you just can’t be. The thought of happiness scares you. Maybe you’ve had people preach at you to just get over it. Maybe you’ve been told that there must be something wrong in your faith walk. Maybe you don’t give a crap about what God says.

Wherever you are right now, whether you’re in a pit, just climbing out of one, or on top of the world, I invite you to join me in finding a purpose stronger and greater than harmful addiction. Because at the end of the day, that was the biggest lesson I learned. I had to take my eyes off myself and my problems to see the bigger purpose around me—a purpose bigger than my mess. I’m still learning and growing. I still have to be careful to not slip into another severe depression. But I have a purpose now, and that makes life a little bit brighter.

As I’ve shared my story, I’ve talked a lot about God. He is very real to me, and I understand that not everyone feels the same way. I completely get that. No matter what your views, I’d still love to have you along. Maybe you’ll learn something new about my God who loves me enough to give me strength just to get out of bed in the morning. Or maybe you’ll learn some really good coping strategies. Either way, I think it’s worth a shot.

Love,
Jyllenna

   

After-Exam Reflections

I've finally emerged from the deep dark cave, commonly known as  studying for final exams. I think I'm still human, though I needed a good shower and a good shopping trip. So, one shower and $120 worth of clothes later, I feel able to put together a blog post. If I had tried to do it before, I probably would have rambled on about polynomial functions or thermochemical changes. But, no, I won't even go there.

My Grade 10 year ended and summer officially began yesterday at 12 pm after I handed in my last exam.  I've had a little bit of time to think about everything that went down in Grade 10. Yikes, there was a lot. Everything from moving to doing math in a tiny hotel room with my brother. Definitely a lot of ups and downs, but, hey, every year is full of those. My best friend also graduated, which is kind of a scary reality for me. I can't believe that she's actually done her time, and I'm not too far off.

 Usually it takes a few days after I finish school to realize that I really don't have to study anymore...for two months. Once I finally have that in my head, I try to have a little bit of R & R. Emphasis on the little bit. My family always has stuff going on. But even the little bit of me time I do find is great. If nothing else, I get to work on my tan.

 Grade 10 was kind of a difficult year. So, this summer, I'm going to focus even more on moving past some things, discovering more about myself, and having some fun. What about you?  I encourage you to use this summer as a learning time (Gasp! Learn while you're not in school!). You definitely learn a lot about yourself while your sitting in that classroom fighting off sleep or while you're hanging with your friends at lunch, but summer offers different learning opportunities. Go for a hike or a bike ride. Maybe develop some new relationships, or strengthen the ones you already have.

 Maybe you need to focus on healing. I need to do a bit of that. Healing from relationships that went sour. Healing from harsh words that someone said about you. Healing from the hurt you inflicted on yourself. Summer is an awesome time for new beginnings. Why not embrace it?

 If you make some interesting discoveries about yourself this summer, I'd love to hear about it!

Love,
Jyllenna

There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

                                                                                       Ecclesiastes 1-8 (The Message)

 

 

Dear Grandpa

One year ago today, I held my grandpa’s hand as he left this earth and went on to eternity. You can read about that here. The year following his death has been a crazy one. Honestly, I can’t believe that it’s already been a year. Sometimes, I think about what he looked like. What his personality was like. All those little things I took for granted, never realizing that they could be gone in the blink of an eye.

Losing someone you love is really hard. Whether it’s a parent, a grandparent, a sibling, or a pet, the pain is really intense. That hole in your heart hurts. Then, after they pass, there’s the craziness of funeral planning and you see more family members than you realize you had. Sorting through my grandpa’s things was also really rough. As I looked through his clothes and photo albums, I was reminded of all the times I didn’t value him. How I simply assumed he would be there forever.  

After my grandpa died, I wasn’t sure what to do with my emotions. I didn’t feel right letting him go. It just didn’t feel right to move on with my life without him. I cried. I still cry. But I had to move on. It’s what he would’ve wanted me to do. He was a very practical man, and probably wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around crying and feeling guilty.

If you’ve lost someone you love, cry a little. Miss them. Maybe write them a letter. Do something that will make them proud. And I can tell you what wouldn’t make them proud. You being angry at yourself. You feeling guilty. You letting your fear hold you back. The people that were close to you loved you. They shared in your dreams, and nothing would break their hearts more than seeing you put those dreams on hold because you simply can’t move on.

Grieve for them. Then live in such a way that carries on their legacy.

Dear Grandpa,

Every day, I think about you. I miss you. I wish I’d spent more time with you while you were here. I wish I’d valued you more.

I still cry. I still regret things. If I could just have one more minute with you, I’d tell you again how much I loved you. I’d ask you for more of your stories. I’d read you more stories. I’d play one more game of crazy rummy even though I always lose. I’d play one more game of checkers, even though I always lose. Maybe I’d try to find a game that I could actually win at. We’d listen to more Selena Gomez music, because you liked her songs. Then maybe I’d show you some better music.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the last year, Grandpa. I’ve also learned a lot of lessons. I hope you’re smiling about what I’m doing right now.

I know you’re in a better place now, Grandpa. And I can’t wait to see you again.

Love,

Jyllenna

               

Moving On

My last post was a kinda depressing, wasn’t it? Yeah, I was feeling a little bit down. I’m still on the recovering end. But things are getting better. Sometimes ya just gotta shove your face in some cake and trust things will get better. While you’re shoving your face in cake, you thank God for a best friend who’s willing do it with you—and pray for you.

Thankfully my story is not done being written (as shown by the little glitch in my emotional system last week). If any of you are struggling right now, and totally identify with what I wrote last week, please find someone you can talk to. That’s what I did. A best friend or a parent or someone. And maybe shove your face in some cake. 

Anyway, moving on from all that, here’s a little bit more of my story.

After I had finished up school, the craziness of moving really began. We were packing, sorting, cleaning, and repeating. I also started online school. I was a little bit stressed, but I was still hopeful because we were going to be moving soon. Every time I felt angry, I told myself that it would all get better once we moved. I believed that all the gloominess I was feeling would go away once I was finally out.

But the stress was building—fast! Instead of having to deal with girl drama, I now had to deal with the hassles of moving, working in really hard schoolwork, and sorting through family conflicts that were arising out of the tension. It was a pretty crazy time for everyone. I can’t really remember everything that happened during those 2 months that we were preparing to move. It was mostly a blur.

But one memory is still vivid.

I was actually out in the new city helping some of our relatives move. I was feeling really down and stressed, mostly because I had some really hard math that I was working on and had to get done because I was behind (side note—don’t ever try to take on math in the middle of a big move. Just don’t.) I had just finished reading Anything but Normal by Melody Carlson. I put the book down and I started bawling. The book was about a Christian teenager who finds herself pregnant. She had to learn to let God forgive her, and she had to forgive herself and others. Now, I wasn’t pregnant, but the message of forgiveness hit me so hard. I was so angry at myself for the mess I had become. I was mad at myself for not being a good friend, for liking pain, for being mean to my family, and for not knowing what to do as I watched my grandpa die. I laid there on my bed in the dark, listening to God tell me to let it all go. That He still loved me. That He had forgiven be because I had asked (over and over!)

I shook my head that night. I told God that I wasn’t good enough. That I would mess it up again. Finally, I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning and for the next few weeks, I tried to talk to God and tried to make up for the things I had done, but I kept messing up.

The emptiness was growing. As the weeks continued, food became disgusting to me. I didn’t want to eat, and when I did, I felt sick. I just didn’t want to be full of anything.

I felt helpless, and I kept counting down the days until we moved.

I would really like to go on, but then this post could become a novel, so I’ll stop there. As I think about how I couldn’t forgive myself, I can see how badly it hurt me. Please don’t make that same mistake. You are not such a horrible person that you can’t be forgiven.  Even by yourself.  You are not a failure. You don’t deserve the pain and emptiness. No matter what anyone has told you. No matter what you’ve told yourself.

God does forgive. I don’t know what your opinions are on God. Maybe you see him as harsh, judging, and just downright mean. Maybe you don’t really care about God. But I know, in my heart, that God forgives. He’s not harsh and judging. We’re the ones that are harsh and judging. God is there to forgive and help us start over. No matter how many times we have to do that.

We just have to accept that forgiveness.

“Love is when a man wipes away your tears…even after your sins left Him hanging on a cross.”

Love,

Jyllenna

 

A Post from the Pit

Today's post is a little bit different than my other posts. If it seems weird, just stick with it. I promise it has a happy ending.

Have you ever felt like you hit a wall at 100 miles an hour? Honestly, that's how I fell right now. Over the last month, I had a lot of awesome experiences. I was really happy, and everything was going great.

Then, BAM!

There's the wall. And I'm still seeing stars. The last 2 weeks have been rough for me. It's familar ground, and it scares me. I've had a tough time getting out of bed. I've cried myself to sleep. I've lacked the motivation to do anything. Scary things.

But right now, as I write this, I know things are gonna change. I chose to believe what I know to be true. I know that there is always a Light brighter than the darkness. I know that I am an overcomer.

Stress is a scary thing, and I feel  a lot of it right now. Exams are coming. Schoolwork is challenging. I feel inadequate. Insecure.

Inesecurity is also a scary thing. Lately, insecurity has been raring its big ugly head. I just don't want to be rejected. Again.

Guys, down here in the pit, those are the kinds of thoughts that fill your mind. Every problem you face is magnified. You cry. You ache. You get angry. Maybe you physically hurt yourself. Maybe you hurt others. No one understands.

So we think.

But I choose to believe that Someone is there, aching with me. Crying with me. Waiting for me to call for help. I choose to believe this because I know it's true.

I know that not everyone reading this believes the same as I do. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe it.

But while you're crying, wondering if life will ever get better, try calling for Someone bigger than you. I had to do that. And guess what. Rainbows didn't appear. I didn't jump up and dance for joy. Things didn't just magically get better. But I got though the night. I know that I was heard.

So, if you're down in the pits, choose to believe what you know is true--not what you feel. Man, I know it's hard. Writing this post has been hard. Right now, every minute is a fight for me. You can cry too. In fact, cry a lot. I've done that several times in the last few day. And call for the One who is crying with you. Join me. Let's watch things change. Sure, our circumstances might not change, but we'll change. For the better.

And finally, eat chocolate. Seriously, God made it for a reason.

Love
Jyllenna

"In my distress, when seemingly closed in, I called upon the Lord and cried to my God; He heard my voice...my cry came before Him, into His very ears." Psalm 18:6