little sister

the air is a comfortable 77 degrees

but my skin is the surface of the sun,

and i feel a single drop of sweat

trickle down the side of my abdomen.

in the shade the temperature dropped ten degrees

but we drink in the heat, the white backs of my knees

scorched and pink,

hers dark and velvet.

your tan is so dark, it has an accent, i tell her.

we laugh together.

it seems we are always either laughing or almost crying,

our sisterhood only knows one measure.
we don't look much alike
but we have the same eyes
and everyone knows this.
you have the same eyes.
proudly, we know.

i sip lukewarm tea with milk and honey

and delve into this book about traveling to europe

and eating fresh, raw farmer's market vegetables

that probably doesn't taste that great

but sounds poetic and pleasing

like thick, snappy stems of purple-green asparagus.
she reads, too. we are comfortable in each others presence.

sometimes more day dreaming is done than reading

as eyes travel the page but do not consume the words

and the same paragraphs is read over and over

until the books are apathetically discarded to the side,

and legs sprawled as we swing ourselves onto our stomachs

and talk about theism and atheism and purpose and tragedy.

twenty years we've held hands once a year,

talked about the day when we'd live near each other

and fought over who would sit next to our father during a car ride.

now neither one of us talk to him anymore -- it would make a good story.

but here we are, adults and at the beginning of new chapters;

when ten years ago the words responsibility and mother

and work and early and tired 

were not an integral part of our vocabulary

and now, they are the things around which our lives are woven.

i still remember her with arms stiff as she runs clumsily on chubby legs,

or as she absent-mindedly scratches the scar on her chest

from the heart surgery she had when she was two,

or as she tugs and hugs one of her many stuffed animals,

whispering for me to go swimming with her

before the sun has even peaked its pink head

over the line of short texas trees.

childhood went by too quickly,

and i wish i had had more time to experience my baby of a sister.

but i am content to have her now.

almost a woman, but still my little sister.

always my little sister.

changed

i'm not writing about this like i'm the only person this happens to. i'm sure it happens to all moms, which is why moms lose themselves, which is why i started this blog in the first place, so i could rediscover who i am beneath the title "mother."

i would have never thought to describe my relationship with my baby as this, but i think all mothers become "obsessed" with their children. i don't mean like everything in my world revolves around him, or he is the main part of my day, or everything i do is based on his part in my life, or he's changed me or made me a different person, or that i find it hard to do things for myself because he comes first, before everything including myself, sometimes including my husband, including god. oh... that's exactly what i mean.

how can a mother find herself again when she is faced with such passion? how can her life ever mean anything else when her child becomes her very world? what i mean is, practically every decision i make is weighed first between how it will affect my child. most of the time it's really not a big deal. i love everything about being a mother and making a few sacrifices doesn't mean much to me. but then i don't think about how it has affected me. in small ways. like... i don't wear a million bracelets anymore because it's kind of inconvenient when you're trying to deal with a kid. and i haven't worn a dress in over a year because i can't breastfeed in one. and i don't draw anymore, because i'm afraid my toddler will grab my paper, and it's hard to keep an eye on him when i'm concentrating on a drawing. and i'm not going back to school yet because i'm pregnant and i have a hard time pumping milk and therefore can't store milk for a baby to drink while i'm at a class.

they change your life in a sneaky, unnoticeable way.

i said i wouldn't talk about my baby on this blog but half the reason i never write here is because that's almost impossible. it feels silly to not talk about the most important thing in my life. maybe i will talk about him... a little. is becoming a different person through motherhood, and staying that person, all that bad, anyway?

spider

i will never forget you

i will always pray for you

i will constantly think about you

i will always wonder what would have happened

i don't try

it occurred to me tonight, as i was dramatically sobbing into the palms of my hands, that i'm not trying enough. i tell myself i am trying really hard, but i'm not. i'm not trying to be optimistic. i'm not trying to trust god. i'm not trying to pray every day. i'm not trying to have hope.

the truth is, i have had a lot of ups and downs the past few months, and especially during the last week. i'm not a depressed person, i swear. i just get really, really sad for a few minutes, and then 90% of the time i'm awesome. it's just that i dwell on things (and i don't try to not dwell on things, either, which doesn't help) and i get stressed out really, really easily and have annoying anxiety that i refuse to take drugs for, because you should always say no to drugs.

i let the things that life throws at me touch me personally and deeply. and instead of smiling through it and shrugging and knowing i'm not going to die from starvation and that probably means things are going to be okay, i complain about how much life sucks (when it only sucks a little bit) and i don't feel like doing anything else but complaining and crying, because i want everyone else to know how miserable i am so they can feel sorry for me.

the truth is this. we're broke. we don't have health insurance. john has been looking for a job for four months with no luck. we're behind in so many bills and the only reason our electricity hasn't been turned off is because we live in an apartment complex. yes, we're moving to a house, which is completely awesome, but we don't even know if we'll be able to pay our last month's rent. i've had a stupid UTI for over a week now and have not been to see a doctor because we can't afford it and now my back hurts and i'm worried i might be getting a kidney infection. our car keeps breaking down and each time we have to fix it it costs a couple hundred dollars, even when john does the work himself. for the past few months, we usually ate only one meal a day, and then whatever random food was in the fridge or pantry. now we're on food stamps, which is helpful, but i hate being on food stamps. i also hate that people give us money. i hate being a charity case. and what i hate more than anything -- that my husband can't find a steady job and that we don't have a reliable income and that that makes us fight.

anyway. that's what is bringing the most stress to my life, right now. i needed to get it out. it's extremely personal (i don't think many people even know this blog exists) and i hate complaining via social media (way more effective in person. ha, i kid.) i feel like i'm going to burst. i'm tired of worrying and i'm tired of crying and i know i complain too much, and need to seriously tone that down a bit. i am also way, way tired of living like this. i want things to get better, and people say they will, but i have absolutely no proof or promise of that whatsoever. it's been like this for months now and things aren't changing. but i'm done now. i promise. i won't breathe a single complaint about any of this anymore on this blog, because it won't do any good to complain about it. and besides, today is thanksgiving, and lord knows i have things to be thankful for.

i think.

kidding.

giving thanks

today has been emotional. i have ups and downs. ups, when i don't think about our money problems, and downs, when something happens and we don't know if we'll be able to pay rent. all these little things add up to the one giant thing that is the reason for all the stress and tears: money.

i'm trying to figure it out. as a christian, it's complicated. as someone who's trying to trust and have faith in god and his goodness, it's difficult.

he clothes the lilies and feeds the birds. and no, we're not starving and although we've been behind on some bills for the last three months, the only reason our electricity isn't turned off is because we live in an apartment. provision?

just thinking about it

my mom had a friend who was a single mom on food stamps and unemployment and went to school full-time on grants to become a nurse, and she worked so hard and everything turned out great and she and her daughter had a full life thanks to her dedication to making a full life. now that is a story [even in so few words].

i want to go back to school. but i don't even know where to start. what school should i attend? how can i get a grant? how do i transfer my credits? where do i retrieve all the information i need? i am so confused, and five minutes on three different websites has left me dicouraged and i want to go to sleep anyway, because it's nearly midnight. 

i'm so afraid though. i didn't realize how scared i was until i started seriously looking into it. i am so nervous, i don't even want to make the first step. i'm always afraid i'm going to mess up. i'm always afraid i'm going to look like an idiot. i'm always afraid i'm going to be taken advantage of and seen as naive and gullible and stupid. i want people to take me seriously and i want people to respect me. i want to go back to school, i want a master's degree, and i want a better story for myself, for my family. 

thinking about going back to school is exciting. it's like the first step toward something completely different. something that could be really amazing and life-changing, but huge and difficult and stressful, too. maybe i'm making it into too big of a deal, or maybe i'm underestimating myself. and i'm not just living on my own time anymore. river needs me, and i want to be there for him, entirely. it's just so scary to think that i will be planning my life around the next four years; scary to think that i really can't wait, that i have to do it now. kind of like i'm on this crazy-high diving board, and i can't go back, and i can't just stand there like an idiot either, because, well, that's just dumb, so i have to make this decision, and i just have to go for it.

it makes me nearly hyperventilate, just thinking about it.

the only thing that matters

here are a few things that have happened the past couple weeks. they all relate, i promise:


1. i have been feeling really sorry for myself lately. i have been extremely envious of the people around me. while talking with friends, i find myself thinking, "well, i wish i could randomly buy a nicely-scented candle just because i want to," or "i wish i could pick myself up a latte from starbucks," or "i wish i could buy organic fruits and veggies for my kid," and so on and so forth. money has been ridiculously tight the past couple months, especially this month, and john has had a hard time finding a job. we would not have made it through without the grace of god. but i have had such a bad attitude about it. people have asked if we cut extra spending, and i'm thinking, "what extra spending?" we got rid of our netflix account and cut our cell phone bill in half and have considered getting rid of the internet [if it weren't for the fact that the money we do make is business that is done through the internet]. if you mean extra spending like, not buying apples this week because they're a dollar a pound, then yeah, we've cut "extra spending." [i would be happy if i didn't eat any more rice, beans, oatmeal, and potatoes for the next year.]


2. i just finished reading 'tis by frank mccourt. if mr. mccourt wrote 100 more books, i would read them. i find myself lost in his stories, his amazing stories of growing up in a slum in ireland and starting a new life in america and working his ass off for everything he has. his is a completely unglamorous cinderella story. he came from a life of poverty where his father drank away his money and his mother had to beg on the streets and three of his siblings died from illness and they had one bed for the entire family and it was covered in ticks and everyone on his street shared an outdoor lavatory which was the street, and he went and made himself a life that is full and warm and normal. and by normal, i mean [probably up until he wrote his book] he wasn't rich or terribly successful, but he was though, compared to the life he had as a child.


3. i complained. a lot.


4. i came across this blog and bawled my eyes out and was convinced in a matter of minutes that i need to go to ukraine and take a baby out of these horrible, tragic living conditions. wow. how heartbreaking. there are no words. please at least skim through it [but you'll probably want to read the whole thing.]


5. my reputation as a photographer was ruined. okay, maybe not ruined. but dang, a botched wedding shoot from nearly a year ago has come back to bite me in the butt, and as i am trying to sort things out, my blog has received negative attention from thousands of people. and wow, it hurts. it stings. i have cried a few times a lot. i feel like All of Internet hates me and i owe an apology to Everyone. it is not fun to be seen in such a negative light, and i have taken it very personally, whether or not that is how it should be taken. and i have dwelt on it all week. i would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it. i have been in a terrible mood and have not been paying as much attention to river as i should, so then i felt like a bad mommy and i have been yelling at john and then i felt like a bad wife, and then i assumed if i am a bad photographer and a bad mommy and a bad wife i must just be a bad person and i told john i wished i could delete myself and start a new me and continue on with my life as new whitney while everyone is upset with old whitney. it was all very dramatic. i'm over it now. and i'm reading a lot more books to river and tickling him a lot to make up for being a bad mommy.


6. i complained some more. i complain about a lot of things. it's a serious fault of mine. ask my parents/husband/friends.


so, how these all connect is this. because of our serious lack of money, i have found myself so grateful for teeny tiny things i would normally take for granted. it's not something i've necessarily been trying to do, it's just happened. because now, i realize how much we had before and how i didn't even think about how nice it was to pick up starbucks, or buy candles, or feed river organic green beans. i didn't realize, in the midst of all my complaining about "not having enough money" when we were making 2.5 times as much as we are making now, how blessed we are. reading tis opened my eyes to how selfish i can be. i was talking to my mom a couple weeks ago and i asked her if she thought it was materialistic, and she said "no, i think you've done a good job transferring to a very comfortable life to one where you have a bit less than you're used to." but the thing is, i don't have that much less. 


i mean yeah, i can't pick up a latte, but neither can yulia, you know? and doesn't that sentence just sound... absolutely ridiculous? what makes my life so different that i think i deserve some extra cash to buy a latte now and then, when yulia is living a life in the confines of the four walls of a crib, day after day, not a moment outdoors, sitting in her own urine, without love, cuddles, kisses, human contact, someone to tell her she is a precious child and worth so much more than what she is getting in life? why is it that i'm sitting here fat and happy with a roof over my head and my beautiful son in my arms and a good book by my side and the cool air coming in from the window and a bowl of oatmeal [or rice, or beans, or potatoes] on my desk and my fingers typing away on this computer, and think that.... i don't have enough?


tonight john and i went to a church called river city christian fellowship, where the worship is intensely spirit-led and anointed. one of the most important lessons i've learned about worship is that god works in amazing ways when we listen and let him move in the way he wants to, and totally surrender to the spirit, whether this is by kneeling prostrate, dancing, raising hands, or being completely still and quiet. tonight when were surrounded by the worshiping of all these people, i was convicted to allow god to move through me. i haven't worshiped him in so long. i've prayed here and there. i've asked for a lot of things. i've told him he's pretty cool a couple times. but my communion with him has been way, way off. i needed time with him. i needed to feel him -- nothing compares to feeling him. nothing. not even the birth of my son brought the emotion that being in total surrender to the spirit does. it's unexplainable, miraculous, life-changing. he hits you like storm. like a "rushing wind"...


he told me tonight, the only thing that matters is him. he is the only thing that matters. he is the only thing worth my attention, my energy, my focus. he is the only one worth my praise. it doesn't matter what people think of me, i am his. it doesn't matter what else is going on, i should trust him. it doesn't matter that i can't see what's going to happen, he can. it doesn't matter what thoughts are bringing me angst and sleepless nights, he will bring me peace. it doesn't matter what makes me hurt or angry or frustrated, he will bring me joy. i should trust him because he hasn't given me any reason not to trust him. he brought to my attention tonight that even though he gave me the most beautiful gift of salvation, all i can give him is my heart. all i can give him in worship is my voice, my dancing, my open hands, my tears, my devotion, my trust, my spirit. all i can do is guide river the best i can and love and pray for people and be a peacemaker and right my wrongs, and that's okay. he doesn't want anything more. i will try my hardest to be who he wants me to be, and that's just what he wants. he's not asking me to be flawless, he's asking me to care. he's asking me to be in communion with him. he's asking me to be love. he is the only thing that matters, and when he is the only thing that matters to me, everything else will fall into place.


praise YHWH, who gives me breath.