1 2 3

What keeps you up at night?

What troubles you?

What scenes play out in your head over and over and over again and usually always resulting in the same thing. 

The moves change but the outcome remains the same.

Does that mean something or do we somehow always sabotage our thoughts into the same result?

Is that what others call being close minded?

I’m honestly not that sure.

Most nights I sleep easy

But as time has passed

Comfort lines have been crossed

I find myself a little indifferent.

A little lost.

I see things in a different light.

I see things I don’t actually quite like but cannot actively change without bringing on a fight.

A fight I’m not certain I want to fight.

A fight that may result in an end as opposed to a beginning.

Or is an end actually a beginning??

Idk.

I’ve heard that a lot.

But what I haven’t heard too much is

“C’mon you’ve got this!”

“Let’s do it. It’s worth the risk!”

Because no risk is easy

Fun.

Safe.

Or secure.

You’ve just gotta let go.

So I’ll ask you one question.

And it’s okay if you’re not quite sure

Most of the time I don’t have any answers for some time.

But with good time I find that I’ve have the answer all along.

So here is my question.

Are you ready to let go?

If yes,

1

2

3

GO!

your average human





Continue reading “1 2 3”

reality.

This is my reality.
Friday nights on a bench at the corner of Bishop and Eighth Street.
I find myself there quite often.
Between the sounds of the street and the sounds of people talking,
The shuffling of feet and the laughter among the group of friends that sit inside the restaurant behind me,
I realize that most of who I am and who I was is based on the people that surround or once surrounded me.
I never gave myself the chance of becoming someone outside of somebody else.
It’s actually kind of scary.
Wait, it’s actually really scary.
You might look at me and I look like your average hispanic.
Short in stature, brown eyes, brown skin.
Nothing that really meets the eye except for the ever-changing colors of my hair.
Today gray and tomorrow pink.
Who’s to say what color is next.
But aside from that, I don’t particularly stand out.
As time has passed I have lost parts of me in places I felt the safest.
It didn’t feel like anger.
It felt more like betrayal.
I lost relationships.
I lost safety nets.
I lost my mind.
And a deep rooted sadness was awakened.
I had breakdowns night after night alone in my bedroom.
Those closest to me could not understand.
I couldn’t look broken.
I sit at coffee shops and watch people enjoy the company of others while I look at the seat in front of me.
Empty.
I drive home at night with the windows rolled down and the music loud enough to drown the sounds of sadness and hurt coming from the depths of my chest.
How could a heart so big feel so unloved?
I often wonder why I was made to feel so deeply.
Why do I desire intimacy?
I didn’t quite understand.
I beat myself up everyday for feeling so hard.
Every wishing I was as happy as they all looked.
I want to smile and laugh and glow.
But I cry and drown  and burn in the sounds of pain.
It took a large amount of strength to even leave my bed some days.
Everything started to look gray and I reverted to my old ways of riding the wave while everything and everyone around me drew close while I pushed away.
My heart fixated on never feeling again.
The blade and the desire for feeling something other than emotional pain rose higher.
Grew closer.

I relapsed.
4 years, 9 months and 22 days.
I relapsed.
That alone was another wave of emotion added to the already raging seas.
It was no longer just sadness and betrayal, but disappointment and regret.

I was drowning.

“How could I lose again?”
“Why wasn’t I strong enough?”
“Where were you when I needed you the most?”
And while I was angry at you for not being there when I felt I needed you most, I knew better.
I blamed your silence for the fresh pink wounds that cried red all the way down my leg.

I did this to myself.

But this is also reality,
Sunday morning coffee with my closest friends filled with conversation, laughter and sporadic yawns.
The shared look between two friends who haven’t slept but 3 hours.
Church services filled with the  joy and peace of God.
A God who loves unconditionally and relentlessly despite my mistakes.
His acceptance despite all of my flaws.
His pursuit within my deepest doubt.
A God that no matter how hard I push away remains near.
A God whom I can call , regardless of time and place.
Who’s reassurance is “I will be found by you.”
A God who makes no demands.
A God who is always waiting for me to draw near so that He too may draw near to me.
The one who can do the impossible.
The maker of heaven and earth.
Creator of all things.
Stabilizer of the raging sea.
The alpha and the Omega.
Beginning and the end.
Sunday night dinners with family and friends.
Goodnight kisses and “I made it home” texts.
Spontaneous road trips for coffee and random trips to gas stations for junk food we will immediately regret.
Going to Chili’s so often the waiters know you by name.
This is also my reality.
Going to bed past 2am because running the streets with cameras is more thrilling than sleep.
Climbing ladders and jumping rooftops for that perfect shot.
Doing things for the “instapics” and laughing about it later.
Sharing stories and jokes during game nights because sometimes staying in is better than going out.
Being too broke to afford popcorn at the movies and telling all of your friends to bring  their biggest bags so you can sneak in the snacks.
Binge watching TV shows alone or with friends.
Movie nights and really dim lights.
That is also reality.
Yet somehow, it is so much easier to sulk on the first reality than to enjoy the second.
It isn’t easy to overlook what hurts.
It isn’t easy to shut out pain.
But nothing worthwhile is.
So you tell me,
Which reality will you pick?


Until next time my friends,
your average human

Fill the Void

There’s only so much one can take you know?
Only so many lies you can stand to tell yourself.
Because it’s so hard to know that you’ll never be where you want to be because you weren’t good enough for yourself that you try to tell yourself otherwise.
The hardest part is trying to hold yourself together so that no one else can see how insufficient you’ll ever really be.
How insignificant you actually feel and well,
Quite frankly how idiotic it was for you to think that you will amount to something,
That would actually be worth someone else’s time to see.
And then there’s the part where you aren’t allowed to shed a tear because it’s not acceptable
Or because it makes you uncomfortable
Or because it makes you look weak.
So to have to cry alone,
In your car,
In your room,
In the shower,
Or any other place you choose to be.
It isn’t an escape anymore but a home.
And in that new home you have all of the things but you have them alone.
And all of a sudden,
Even things there begin to feel uncomfortable
And crying there will only feel like a hoax.
Another lie you have to tell yourself so that you don’t go insane.
Another reason to not feel like you’ve truly gone away.
.
.
.
I guess what I am trying to say is
“Will you come see to it that I’m not alone?”
Come keep me company?
Be my hand to hold?
Will you come and rescue me from this place I call “home”
And take me to a place where my heart will not turn to stone.
Help me to feel,
To see
And to realize what I truly am.
A diamond in the rough,
A gem among the rocks,
A hidden treasure on an uncharted island.
Deserving,
And worthy to be searched for,
Worked for,
And loved.
Real eyes,
Realize,
That you are more than they could have ever hoped for.
No more crying and no more lying.
Simply living and slowly dying.
Filled with hope,
Joy,
And love.
Never alone.
Never alone.

until next time,
your average human

Miracle

I think it’s safe to say we are all looking for some kind of miracle.
It’s safe to say we all genuinely need one.
We all really want one.
It’s our last resort,
Our last attempt at anything before we throw in the towel and say we’re done.
There’s just one problem,
What are you willing to risk and do for it?
What are you willing to give up?
Things?
People?
Places?
Safeties?
Securities?
That’s the hard part.
That’s where we need to start
But that’s also where we lack drive
We don’t take the first step
We don’t jump
We don’t try
We just feel like it’ll happen because that’s what’s been promised to us.
There are great expectations for the impossible to be done
But there’s no true belief in the One.
So what’s your next step?
What’s your next move?
Are you moving in faith?
Are you doing what you need to do?

yours truly,
your average human

RE:build

It’s good to know where everyone stands.
Apparently it’s been on me.
Big mistake.
And maybe I did this to myself
Allowed them to use me as a rock
But the harsh reality is that I’m only standing on sand.
Sinking.
I cannot stand on my own
Slowly I am reminded that I May have built my house on sand.
And while that’s ok
It also leaves everyone who stand with me deceived
Believing that I am something stable and steady
A place to find rest when they are heavy
But the unsettling truth is that I am much like them
Unstable
Unsteady
And always falling apart
It all makes sense
I’m just a person and
I don’t know why I thought I could be someone I am not
I am only human and that is ok
But everyone looks at me and thinks quite the opposite
They give me this grandiose description that I am amazing and incredible
But that is not the truth
So for all of you counting on me
Leaning on me
Standing on me,
I’m sorry to let you down
And I hope you have enough time to rebuild your home somewhere else
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere secure.
I’m looking for a place to build my own home before I can host any guest.
A place where my guests won’t fall.
A place where my guests will find peace.
So on this rock I stand where Christ is the architect and he is also master builder
But it doesn’t come without first tearing down what I once thought was my home.
A place filled with secret passages and unspoken pains.
Places where I left my blood, sweat and the tears that left the floors stained.
Letting go of the rooms that I filled with the deep agonizing screams from my chest when I felt like there was no other way.
I found darkness and loneliness within the confinement of those walls.
But now that I’ve broken and lost all that I am in that windowless house
I stand outside of the house and look at the sad and broken red door wondering how I’m even alive.
Wondering how the sunlight and fresh air hasn’t burned right through who I am
But I stand beside the master builder who prepares to break the grounds again
So that I can try again to build my home.
A home for more than just resting but for hosting those without a home or whose home is still being built.
I stand beside the builder and but the builder is also Me.

until next time,
your average human

Bottom of the Barrel Finds

I have been faced with choices and decisions I never thought I would have to make for myself.
Things I never thought I’d have to do.
Relationships I thought would never have to end.
Frequent emotions and questions and wounds that I needed to mend.
But it’s crazy because time after time and pain after pain
It just got so much easier to pretend.
To pretend I felt nothing at all.
To pretend nothing bothered me.
To pretend to be strong when I was falling apart to save others.
To pretend that I wasn’t broken.
I was a shattered mirror whose reflection was intended to mirror Christ but it only mirrored defeat.
Everyone could see my demise and I was completely blinded as though something covered my eyes.
A mirror I thought wasn’t broken, wasn’t cracked.
And what I thought I’d put back together turned out to be random pieces simply patched.
The tape was dirty.
The glue was old and the pieces continued to fall.
I gave so much of myself away before I realized I never allowed myself to be filled again.
Despite the attempt of many.
Blinded by my need for strength and independence.
So I began to scrape the bottom of the barrel thinking that it would be nice and good.
But it turned out to be toxic and I poisoned those around me with darkness and defeat.
Because what I gave away was nasty and it was most of my defeat.
What I gave away birthed nasty habits and hate.
It’s been 3 days and I finally saw what I should’ve seen long ago.
It may now be too late.
But I’ve already lost
So what is another try?
What is another loss?
I lose nothing by trying.
What is another chance for hope and victory?
Hope for a final win.
Wish me luck, I’m about to make the trip.

until next time,
your average human

create.

I’ve always been taught to write neatly and color inside the lines.
I’ve always been told which customs and mannerisms by which I’d be defined.
Simply do this or do that so you can be like this or like that.
They always told me what role to play or what hat to wear.
They always did teach me how to share.
I’m an adult now
and I hate coloring inside the lines
and I don’t allow society to
I don’t allow for others to come into my life and take the things I have worked hard to Achieve because they don’t quite fit into the small square spaces they call “success”.
I will never be the next billboard ad or the next commercial on tv.
I may never be he role model you desired for your daughter or someone you aspire to be.
I won’t color inside the lines because you want me to or because it is what is right.
I will color outside the lines and call finishing a glass of milk a total success.
I will wear whatever hat I please and play any role that I want.
I will be daughter and mother and builder and chef all in one day.
I’ll be driver and lover and coffee drinker all in one sway.
My writing will be messy and most likely hard to read.
But I don’t need you to read me I don’t need you to stay.
I’ve called myself to live outside of the neat black lines that define where that colored Pencil should end and I live on the outside where creativity, mistakes and undefined Scribbles are made.
Life is what you make it and living outside those lines gives you the freedom to create it.

until next time,
your average human