brutal. beautiful.

When I don't know what else to do, I write. Sometimes in the form of song, and sometimes like this. Many of my wordy meanderings never see the public eye because it feels too heavy for the world to carry. Somehow my thoughts are too callous, too raw, to make it onto paper.

I have these moments where I cower at the idea of being vulnerable for others to see and take note of and then I have these profound moments of unwavering passion that flood my veins and ravish me until I can think of nothing other than releasing my innermost laments.

Today was one of those days. It's contradicting to say that I felt both incredible frail, and incredibly powerful all at once, but I did. I was in command, level-headed, wise, and yet- I was breaking inside, grieving another death at the hands of suicide. Most days, I have to admit, feel like this; an oxymoron of emotion. Somedays I feel paralyzed while I push through designing, writing, singing, producing. I'm making something beautiful while feeling utterly bereft. Is this what my life looks like right now? Moving from one shadow to the next, like a ghost, like half a person?

I make myself a cup of steaming hot tea while I ponder how to summon some kind of emotion other than grief. These days, it's over a peppermint tea, that I wonder if I will ever feel normal again. I proceed to find a seat at my producing desk and I get to work.

I write, sing, harmonize, and produce five to eight songs a week for a company called Songfinch. After I step away from my desk, at around five pm, I make dinner, eat, and either work on jewelry for upcoming vending days, or work on music for REVIE. Sometimes it's both.

I finally slip out of my day clothes, into something quick and comfortable and sink into my bed. These days, it's been around 3am. I listen to a guided sleep mediation so that I can release the stress of the day and hope for a solid night's rest. And sometimes I get it.

And then, sometimes, I lie awake staring at the ceiling dreading the day to come because it's gonna look exactly like the previous day. Wake up. Eat. Make Songfinch music. Hopefully remember to eat lunch. Eat dinner. Make REVIE music. Make jewelry. Fall asleep (maybe).

It's this auto-pilot disease that I don't want to get sucked into. But if for a moment, I stop running in either direction, everything will fall apart. Those who have a consistent job won't be able to relate to this. When you're a creative, it's like you sign a contract that states, in very clear terms, that you will live a life of inconsistency. You handed the man your ticket to get on the rollercoaster when you say yes to a life other than the 9-5, benefits attached, salary included life. And that rollercoaster? It wins every award when it comes to scare factor.

It tosses you, it shakes you, it rattles your every bone, and YET it takes you to the greatest heights ever, with the most stunning views you've ever witnessed. I've often said that beauty cannot exist without tragedy. Why would it? Why would something be attractive if you had not known something that was so utterly broken before it? We wouldn't seek it out. We wouldn't search every corner of the world for it, if pain never touched us.

It's the reason we hear a song and we scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs. It's the reason that the ocean takes our breath away. It's the reason a line in a movie wrecks us, moves us, stays with us long after the movie is over. Because we have known loss. Because we have known exhaustive struggle, that we find ourselves in a constant need to experience something beautiful, something emotive, something larger than ourselves and the trauma we've faced.

I'm a sucker for a happy, romantic, the-bow-on-top-is-so-pretty kind of ending. But this particular blog post doesn't really have that, at the moment. This is just the middle of the mess. It's uncomfortable. And I love to have a pulse on everything, and I can't with this. I can't fix it. I can't change it. I can't magically breathe my way through it. And it just has to be okay. Just like that. Nothing else.

The once hot tea, is now lukewarm and I resolve that sometimes life is just a string of colorful emotions and strange happenings and to fight it is somewhat useless and it most definitely is hugely tiring. There is one positive note I can end this on and if you don't believe what I believe, then just pass by, but if you do then this is my encouragement.

Often, we pray hoping that the words leave our mouths, fly on golden wings to the Heavens and strip us immediately of whatever problem we are facing. I have prayed like that. And those aren't bad prayers. No prayer is a bad prayer. It's just talking to God. In my young, (nearly) 32 years of being on this earth, I've very, painfully, slowly learned that talking to God is just that. It's talking it out. It's telling your best friend about your day. Prayer CAN change your situation. I do believe that. I believe in miracles with my whole heart. BUT.. prayer, when it DOESN'T deliver you, changes your atmosphere. It changes your spirit, your demeanor, your outlook. And when nothing else is shifting, you can be practicing great strength, gratitude, and hope with your prayer.

Tonight, I did a prayer house tour. I covered every inch of our home, our bodies, our minds, our thoughts, ideas, hopes, dreams, everything in the blood of Jesus and I gave it over to Him. I can tell you... my problems didn't suddenly disappear. My spirit, though, lifted. I sat down to write this blog and relief flooded my bones, the pressure eased, the stress lightened. Prayer changes things.

If you don't pray. I encourage you to try it. If you don't want to try it, I sincerely hope you find an outlet to let yourself feel, vent, scream, cry, break, and ultimately-change.

When we let ourselves feel, we do change. We refine, we strengthen. We find, at the bottom of the well, at the coldest, darkest, emptiest places, the will to go on, to push forward, and strength to see it through.

Maybe you're reading this and everything feels hopeless, pointless, never-changing, and ever increasing in difficulty. I want you to know that you really are strong. You really are.

The light will come, my friend. And just like the winter gives way to a fresh bloom, your situation will lift and give way to new places, new levels, new ideas, and a renewed sense of who you are.

It's messy now. But something is being cultivate in the mess. It's coming and you'll look back and you'll be filled with thankfulness that you faced what you did, because it paved the way for where you are going.

Isn't that almost always how it goes? We get to where we've been longing to go, and we realize the gravity of what we experienced before we got there. The brutal places? They prepare us for the beautiful places.

And now, the tea is cold.