And I think it's quite easy,
I hope I'm not being lazy.
Perhaps what's right, doesn't always require such work?
Because there's this image in my head that I can't seem to shake,
I'm walking up your wooden stairs trying to figure out what to expect
I see your face, and I don't expect anything.
You smile and tell me you like my dress,
I turn into an Arnold Palmer of emotions at once
and all that I can think about is enjoying Otis Redding with you
All I want to do is just sit with you while my iced cappuccino melts
hear you talk about this amazing bike trip across the country.
I'll mostly smile because I don't know much about fixed gears,
I'll wish that I did.
only for the sake of understanding and probably joining you
and not so much for the fact that I could impress you with my knowledge
For some reason with you it's so easy,
and I really hope that I'm not being lazy
this thing seems entirely right.
You once told me you didn't believe in marriage,
and now you're thinking about things you won't say out loud
and I usually do the same when I know my thoughts are too soon.
I heard you say something
"what did you say?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Just say it"
"No. It's probably too soon."
And usually I'm not right about a lot of things,
but I was just right about that.
Lately, I've been very right about you.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Explanation
Exodus 34:7, "Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty; visiting (punishing) the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and to the fourth generation."
If you were ever addicted to drugs or any type of substance you know that getting clean is possible, however in most cases not probable. You can completely remove yourself from the environment in which contains your resources, delete contacts from your phone whom are associated with your addiction, and pray for strength every day. Ultimately in the back of your mind you are aware that even if you take these steps and stop using, you'll always be an addict. Life (regardless of whether or not you're wearing a 10 year clean pin or not) is going to always be a constant struggle and though we may not be able eradicate these generational curses to their entirety, we can take necessary precautions and fight them.
A little over a year ago, I took a seemingly permanent Holiday from past relationships to rebuild and better establish myself. Over the course of maybe 10 months my relationship with God began to strengthen, my respect and love for others began to grow (along with the desire to help them [direct bi-product of this new found love for mankind]). I became selfless and felt a tremendous sense of clarity in my life. Although I was struggling with a stagnant relationship at the time, I felt as though I had a better sense of direction more so than ever before. This solitude and time for reflection was essential to help me fight my demons.
I was (am) a selfish, foolish liar who desires affirmation and validation from an imperfect race. The very men that denied God and decided that their desires were more important than putting our faith in his love, was who I was idolizing (non specific, all of mankind has/and continue to do this).
After those months, I felt the need to reconnect with those in which I don't deny that I love to no end. At first this reconnection felt necessary and relieving. I felt at home yet again. Little did I realize that relapsing doesn't only occur in substance abusers.
A couple of weeks had passed and I fell into a world of conviction. The past Brooke began to take hold of the new and redeemed Brooke and the process of digression began to actuate. I started making mistakes and lying like crazy to prevent the world from seeing the monster I was reverting back to. I finally had the drive to cut off the future-less relationship that I was holding on to, and used alcohol to dull the pain. I used alcohol to sleep. I used alcohol to blame for my mistakes. The one thought that was recurring in my head the entire time was what will Katie and Mike think of the mess I've become. How could I ever get them to forgive me? And with that I was more convicted than I'd ever been in my relationship with God.
Restless nights and a creeping alcoholism (retrospectively) became physical ailments of my metaphysical struggles. Days passed and new knowledge that was learned acted as a bricks compressing against my heart. It goes without saying that in some ways, these days went from bad to worse.
Currently, I am in the calm wake of all of this reflecting with more clear of a head. As an imperfect being (with addictive qualities) in order to grow, it is essential to not revert back to a dirty past. This decision was not made in spite of, or to blame anybody else. The only person making the mistakes was myself and being that I am fully aware, I have the duty to act.
I will always love the two of you from a necessary distance.
B. Thompson
If you were ever addicted to drugs or any type of substance you know that getting clean is possible, however in most cases not probable. You can completely remove yourself from the environment in which contains your resources, delete contacts from your phone whom are associated with your addiction, and pray for strength every day. Ultimately in the back of your mind you are aware that even if you take these steps and stop using, you'll always be an addict. Life (regardless of whether or not you're wearing a 10 year clean pin or not) is going to always be a constant struggle and though we may not be able eradicate these generational curses to their entirety, we can take necessary precautions and fight them.
A little over a year ago, I took a seemingly permanent Holiday from past relationships to rebuild and better establish myself. Over the course of maybe 10 months my relationship with God began to strengthen, my respect and love for others began to grow (along with the desire to help them [direct bi-product of this new found love for mankind]). I became selfless and felt a tremendous sense of clarity in my life. Although I was struggling with a stagnant relationship at the time, I felt as though I had a better sense of direction more so than ever before. This solitude and time for reflection was essential to help me fight my demons.
I was (am) a selfish, foolish liar who desires affirmation and validation from an imperfect race. The very men that denied God and decided that their desires were more important than putting our faith in his love, was who I was idolizing (non specific, all of mankind has/and continue to do this).
After those months, I felt the need to reconnect with those in which I don't deny that I love to no end. At first this reconnection felt necessary and relieving. I felt at home yet again. Little did I realize that relapsing doesn't only occur in substance abusers.
A couple of weeks had passed and I fell into a world of conviction. The past Brooke began to take hold of the new and redeemed Brooke and the process of digression began to actuate. I started making mistakes and lying like crazy to prevent the world from seeing the monster I was reverting back to. I finally had the drive to cut off the future-less relationship that I was holding on to, and used alcohol to dull the pain. I used alcohol to sleep. I used alcohol to blame for my mistakes. The one thought that was recurring in my head the entire time was what will Katie and Mike think of the mess I've become. How could I ever get them to forgive me? And with that I was more convicted than I'd ever been in my relationship with God.
Restless nights and a creeping alcoholism (retrospectively) became physical ailments of my metaphysical struggles. Days passed and new knowledge that was learned acted as a bricks compressing against my heart. It goes without saying that in some ways, these days went from bad to worse.
Currently, I am in the calm wake of all of this reflecting with more clear of a head. As an imperfect being (with addictive qualities) in order to grow, it is essential to not revert back to a dirty past. This decision was not made in spite of, or to blame anybody else. The only person making the mistakes was myself and being that I am fully aware, I have the duty to act.
I will always love the two of you from a necessary distance.
B. Thompson
Monday, July 11, 2011
Identity Crisis
Somewhere else exists a better version of me; a well composed lady with concrete blocks for feet. During the sweltering heat, burrowing hail, and torrential rain she continues to stand unmoving. Her eyes are wide as her eyelashes work to shield away the elements, and she flinches not even for a second. As the people of the world throw their ropes and arrows, shoot bullets, and throw rocks her sturdy legs lock her bruised body into place like a statue of not greatness, but humility. She is aware of her faltering foundation, however determined to hold steadfast to self-preservation. Undignified she remains humble yet allows the hardening of her heart for protection against her emotional fuel. Her current and constant fuel is reason.
The muscle in her arms are laced with self control and cautionary doubt. This strength allows for loading burdens and situational packages on the neatly organized shelves of her brain. While her feet are concrete blocks, her legs are brick and mortar of perseverance. The small bones in her hands maintain closed fists bound by a wire of tolerance. Her unblinking eyes are great worldly receptors, seeing past face-value everything. She wills herself to be the woman of God she was intended. She is constant, and she is aware.
The world around her is crumbling, the cities are burning. The towers are falling while the wind is picking up strength. As the sun nears the earths atmosphere she refuses to blink again. Earth's people are tugging harder at the rope begging for her to fall. While they increase their fires of blame, she receives peace and maintains. Yet again, she is constant.
She is who I want to be. She is the better version of me.
The muscle in her arms are laced with self control and cautionary doubt. This strength allows for loading burdens and situational packages on the neatly organized shelves of her brain. While her feet are concrete blocks, her legs are brick and mortar of perseverance. The small bones in her hands maintain closed fists bound by a wire of tolerance. Her unblinking eyes are great worldly receptors, seeing past face-value everything. She wills herself to be the woman of God she was intended. She is constant, and she is aware.
The world around her is crumbling, the cities are burning. The towers are falling while the wind is picking up strength. As the sun nears the earths atmosphere she refuses to blink again. Earth's people are tugging harder at the rope begging for her to fall. While they increase their fires of blame, she receives peace and maintains. Yet again, she is constant.
She is who I want to be. She is the better version of me.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Aching for a Command
My failures, at an instant, are signals of defeat.
Today, I’m tired of waving that white banner indicating a retreat.
because what’s retreat if you’re maintaining your very same position,
riding out the tidal waves, bearing no new acquisition?
My stagnant soul tires and screams, “Where is it I should go?”
While restless hands assist my sleepless eyes with the promise not to close.
Every gaze from your eyes reminds me of mistake,
reminds me of intermittent effort,
the trust I always seemed to break.
But I promise to fall slave to making these recurring amends,
all the while losing sight as our love slowly descends.
I pray nightly for lacking lost cause, I hope only for ascension,
a passion powerful and true to hold us in suspension.
Give me something undeniable, words that speak truth
otherwise pull me from this frozen state;
!basta ya!, genug ist genug.
Today, I’m tired of waving that white banner indicating a retreat.
because what’s retreat if you’re maintaining your very same position,
riding out the tidal waves, bearing no new acquisition?
My stagnant soul tires and screams, “Where is it I should go?”
While restless hands assist my sleepless eyes with the promise not to close.
Every gaze from your eyes reminds me of mistake,
reminds me of intermittent effort,
the trust I always seemed to break.
But I promise to fall slave to making these recurring amends,
all the while losing sight as our love slowly descends.
I pray nightly for lacking lost cause, I hope only for ascension,
a passion powerful and true to hold us in suspension.
Give me something undeniable, words that speak truth
otherwise pull me from this frozen state;
!basta ya!, genug ist genug.
Brand New
I woke up to the sun caressing my arms and face,
It’s soft voice spoke out “These are careless days!”
“I will melt away the snow carrying your faults and defeat,
these rays will cleanse and rebuild replacing gray with green.”
For months my sheets held captive this body needing repair,
now the medicine is in the earth, the sun, the trees, the sky, the air.
I’ll skip my morning rituals so I can get to you in haste,
run weightless through the crowded streets not a second more, I’ll waste.
Your door stands lacking emotion, you bring life to the entryway,
I brought for you the sun, puddles left by winter hell, and a new day.
As I grab your wrist you smile ready for the spring to bind us closer,
we’ll run as we years before, forgetting to grow older.
The east holds nothing for us, so we’ll only travel west
inviting the sun to light the path of something more adventurous.
Your eyes reflect forgiveness that’s bleeding for me to accept
that there is no chance of regretfulness, only love lacking contempt.
It’s soft voice spoke out “These are careless days!”
“I will melt away the snow carrying your faults and defeat,
these rays will cleanse and rebuild replacing gray with green.”
For months my sheets held captive this body needing repair,
now the medicine is in the earth, the sun, the trees, the sky, the air.
I’ll skip my morning rituals so I can get to you in haste,
run weightless through the crowded streets not a second more, I’ll waste.
Your door stands lacking emotion, you bring life to the entryway,
I brought for you the sun, puddles left by winter hell, and a new day.
As I grab your wrist you smile ready for the spring to bind us closer,
we’ll run as we years before, forgetting to grow older.
The east holds nothing for us, so we’ll only travel west
inviting the sun to light the path of something more adventurous.
Your eyes reflect forgiveness that’s bleeding for me to accept
that there is no chance of regretfulness, only love lacking contempt.
Funny? How Migraine?!
Yesterday was my very first day at Rapid Response. My nerves are always really shotty in those circumstances, so with the help of the amazing weather on Sunday, I took Casey to Ann Arbor for some window shopping, Bubble Tea, and a strut through the Nichols Arboretum. This, of course wore me out by the time I got home causing me to carelessly throw my purse and it’s contents on the floor next to the front door, run upstairs to my disgustingly humid room, and pass out on my bed without lifting the sheets. Anyhow, I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about a wolf standing outside of my window in the storm, snarling at me in preparation for an impossible leap to my window. It was ridiculous, so ridiculous in fact that upon waking up, I puked in my hands as a result of an immediate migraine.
Anyways, fast forwarding to the morning of my first day. I took my medication for my broken head without food, because that would birth the start of incessant vomiting. My medication has recently started having more of a dulling effect on my migraines, and less of a diminishing effect so I had to suck it up and be a body without a brain in orientation. Of course there are only 3 other people there, so my ops director is instructing less than 2 feet away from us and involving me in every conversation and asking me every question humanly possible. Like I said, during this entire thing, I was a body without a brain.
My migraines start out as some sort of strange neurological malfunction. I lose my peripheral vision entirely, the left side of my body starts to numb, and it becomes very difficult for me to form sentences like an educated adult. After the actual headache starts, it seems as though my left frontal lobe taps into my subconscious and strange “later thoughts” and “before thoughts” start spewing from my mouth without filter. Actually, I’ll just say really anything.
So here I am, participating in conversations with the most ridiculous comments… somehow relating zombie apocalypses to the DriveCam, and announcing that “I have to pee” to a group of strangers. At one point in time, I believe that I grabbed my purse and left the room. When my Ops Director told me I could not leave, I shook my fist at him.
Towards the end of the day, I tried again to take my medication with the addition of Excedrin. I almost immediately returned to earth giving me the opportunity to explain my flighty self to this guy who probably thinks I’m a crazed lunatic. Luckily for me, I was a hit and riot at Orientation and was apparently loved by Ops, and my fellow soon-to-be co workers.
“Make sure you take your psycho meds before coming in on Thursday.” -Justin, Ops.
Round 2: Thursday. Hopefully I can be my normal self without a migraine inhibiting my flakiness.
Anyways, fast forwarding to the morning of my first day. I took my medication for my broken head without food, because that would birth the start of incessant vomiting. My medication has recently started having more of a dulling effect on my migraines, and less of a diminishing effect so I had to suck it up and be a body without a brain in orientation. Of course there are only 3 other people there, so my ops director is instructing less than 2 feet away from us and involving me in every conversation and asking me every question humanly possible. Like I said, during this entire thing, I was a body without a brain.
My migraines start out as some sort of strange neurological malfunction. I lose my peripheral vision entirely, the left side of my body starts to numb, and it becomes very difficult for me to form sentences like an educated adult. After the actual headache starts, it seems as though my left frontal lobe taps into my subconscious and strange “later thoughts” and “before thoughts” start spewing from my mouth without filter. Actually, I’ll just say really anything.
So here I am, participating in conversations with the most ridiculous comments… somehow relating zombie apocalypses to the DriveCam, and announcing that “I have to pee” to a group of strangers. At one point in time, I believe that I grabbed my purse and left the room. When my Ops Director told me I could not leave, I shook my fist at him.
Towards the end of the day, I tried again to take my medication with the addition of Excedrin. I almost immediately returned to earth giving me the opportunity to explain my flighty self to this guy who probably thinks I’m a crazed lunatic. Luckily for me, I was a hit and riot at Orientation and was apparently loved by Ops, and my fellow soon-to-be co workers.
“Make sure you take your psycho meds before coming in on Thursday.” -Justin, Ops.
Round 2: Thursday. Hopefully I can be my normal self without a migraine inhibiting my flakiness.
Dunmurry, Northern Ireland
In 65 days, I will begin my "see the world" adventure with a two week stay in Dunmurry, Northern Ireland. This vacation could not have been planned for a better time.
I recently broke off a four year relationship with a man whom I had anticipated to be my husband. Even though this is supposed to be a blog, and I'm supposed to organize my most intense feelings at this particular moment in time, I just don't really feel like getting into hairy details. I just feel like resuming this zombie-numb state of being for as long as possible. I'm sure a few days down the road, that post will be a sloppy mess of girly emotions. I may be some sort of train wreck, but until then... I'll just set up camp in the Twilight Zone.
So being that I am anticipating a major breakdown and loss of direction, I of course need something to hold me together. That something is Dunmurry and Brittany Robinson. The thought of touching down on the Emerald Isle and being greeted by my dear friend whom I haven't seen in almost a year is almost euphoric.
I shut my eyes and just imagine: My sixteen hour plan ride is nearing its destination. I feel my right butt cheek going numb from leaning my body against the window. As I open my eyes from the longest nap of my life, all I see is green. I can already feel my heart beating to jump out of my chest to get a look for itself, so I cross my arms to hold it in place. Finally the airplane stops and I jump out of my seat unsteadily. My legs haven't recovered from such a long rest so they struggle to hold my body's weight. I am however determined. I grab my carry-on backpack and shove the garbage from my snacks in my pockets and impatiently stand behind the short lady who isn't paying attention as the line advances out of the plane. She is still standing, reading a magazine. Finally she realizes the clear exit and looks at me apologetically. I return the expression with a smile and we scurry out of the exit.
Outside, the fresh air steals away my breath with an evergreen kiss and I feel a strange sense of comfort. I see Brittany's face, and I feel at home. My second home away from Michigan.
Until my travel,
B.Thompson
I recently broke off a four year relationship with a man whom I had anticipated to be my husband. Even though this is supposed to be a blog, and I'm supposed to organize my most intense feelings at this particular moment in time, I just don't really feel like getting into hairy details. I just feel like resuming this zombie-numb state of being for as long as possible. I'm sure a few days down the road, that post will be a sloppy mess of girly emotions. I may be some sort of train wreck, but until then... I'll just set up camp in the Twilight Zone.
So being that I am anticipating a major breakdown and loss of direction, I of course need something to hold me together. That something is Dunmurry and Brittany Robinson. The thought of touching down on the Emerald Isle and being greeted by my dear friend whom I haven't seen in almost a year is almost euphoric.
I shut my eyes and just imagine: My sixteen hour plan ride is nearing its destination. I feel my right butt cheek going numb from leaning my body against the window. As I open my eyes from the longest nap of my life, all I see is green. I can already feel my heart beating to jump out of my chest to get a look for itself, so I cross my arms to hold it in place. Finally the airplane stops and I jump out of my seat unsteadily. My legs haven't recovered from such a long rest so they struggle to hold my body's weight. I am however determined. I grab my carry-on backpack and shove the garbage from my snacks in my pockets and impatiently stand behind the short lady who isn't paying attention as the line advances out of the plane. She is still standing, reading a magazine. Finally she realizes the clear exit and looks at me apologetically. I return the expression with a smile and we scurry out of the exit.
Outside, the fresh air steals away my breath with an evergreen kiss and I feel a strange sense of comfort. I see Brittany's face, and I feel at home. My second home away from Michigan.
Until my travel,
B.Thompson
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