Sometimes Bekah has a thought explosion. This is the result of one of them

Sometimes I wish I had a better way of expressing myself. So often my vocabulary falls short of the vivacity of my thoughts and feelings. I’ve tried to paint it or draw it and I’ve failed miserably. Most of the time, a culmination of all of the senses are needed to conjure up the substance of my thoughts. The hard part, probably, is that most of the time I don’t understand myself.

Time. Time freaks me out. I never have enough time to invest myself as fully as I wish I could in certain friendships, projects, pursuits of knowledge, etc. Yet, when I have time I have no idea what to do with it. Time is such a cruel devise.

Foolish Ramble.

It's over. You

fooled

me into thinking this was something real, instead of a silly game. Well, you're the winner wearing your medal made up of distance, independence, excuses, and easy-way-outs. You stand tall because you have your pride clutched in your fist and perhaps you think that I am

foolish

for being vulnerable. I let myself hurt, rejoice, and be touched, maybe too often and too deeply. But at least I feel. So now, who is the one that is

fooling

around? You or me? Because you work so hard to make it look like you are having fun, but I know you better than that. You may see me as weak, painted in pastel colors and whispering soft sweet songs, but know this: I am nobody's

fool.

I just still believe in good things. I believe in kept promises and Truth and the type of Love that lays aside one's own life for another. For this, I think I am stronger, not weaker.

This isn't a literary masterpiece, it's just what I'm thinking about today.

Today I finished my mental health clinical and I was a little bit sadder about it then I expected to be. Yesterday, Connor told me it would be okay for me to cry if I needed to, and I shook it off like it ain’t no thang. No. Not like that. Because I never say things like that. Point being, today I realized how much I needed Connor’s words because working with the mentally ill this last semester is one of my favorite things that I have ever done. My heart is broken for the mentally ill. It breaks because the stigma surrounding “mental illness” and the way people have treated fellow human beings like animals just because they were labeled “crazy” in the past. I can’t imagine how terrifying and vulnerable it is to not be able to trust what is going on in your own head. Yet, if I’ve learned anything this semester it’s that those that have mental illness don’t have a voice for themselves; I’m learning more and more that being a nurse is being the voice for those that can’t speak for themselves. This is why I am so passionate about mental illness, about speaking out against abortion, and about bringing healthcare to women in Afghanistan who have been deprived of decent care for years.

We live in a world full of hurt, brokenness, and lies and I kind of wonder how we don’t all suffer from mental health problems. Hopefully, this is one tiny way that I can bring the Kingdom full of hope and restoration and good things.

“Listen.

Can you hear it?

Does it speak?

Will I feel it?

Will it hurt?

Am I near it?

...

I don’t know.”

Irrelevant

The scenery whipping past the windows as we drive home from Salina, Kansas, leaves very little for the imagination to work with. I therefore start thinking about bizarre things, like this web of asphalt stretching out across our country that humans constructed and then called the “Interstate System.” I start trying to quantify how much gravel and petroleum has gone into the roads humans have paved all over the world. This, then, triggers thoughts about what type of effect this has on the environment, after we have spread this concoction all over a significant portion of the earth’s surface… This whole tangent is extraneous. (or is it?)

Basically, my thoughts turn to really irrelevant things. Which means eventually they turn to us. “We” are irrelevant, aren’t we? Although at one point, I know we were relevant. We mattered. But time moves and things change and my mind and heart have a hard time catching up.

The Interstate system is relevant.

The road I’m traveling these days is relevant too.

We’ll see where I end up.

On my mind, and now on my blog.

1. "Sorry." What is that? Is it really an apology? I think its actually a word that you use to cover yourself. It's a cop-out. In other words, its your signature move.

2. When did the boys stop becoming men and start becoming guys?? MAN UP.

3. I will no longer make up excuses for where I am right now. I'm here. God put me here. If it's good enough for him, it's absolutely good enough or me. And I think it should be good enough for you too.

4. "Nothing will behave in the logical way you have come to expect. You will understand things only with your heart, and that can be a little frightening. For a long time, the journey will seem like a Dark Night, but then, any search is an act of faith."

Dennis inspires me.

I know this man named Dennis and I kind of think he is the coolest guy ever. Dennis is a middle aged man in my nursing class. I learned today, after attending class with him for at least six months, that he never even wanted to be a nurse. He is married to the love of his life, has a son, and is a pilot for the military. Unlike most of us, Dennis has already built his life. His goals and dreams were in the works already, and have nothing to do with Beth-El or hospitals or white uniforms or stethoscopes. No, being a nurse was not his dream, but the dream of his best friend. When Dennis's best friend, also in the military, died in combat, Dennis took this endeavor upon himself as a way to honor his friend.

Wow. Talk about love and loyalty. I cannot ever imagine putting myself through something as horrible and expensive and competitive as nursing school for the soul purpose of honoring my friends memory. I'd like to think that I'm just as loyal of a friend though, maybe. And that I have loyal friends like this. There are a few girls that share a permanent mark on their body that match mine and few other girls besides that I'd do anything for, and vis versa, I think.

And Dennis is going to go back to being a pilot in two years when he graduates. Dang.

Work in Progress

My life seems to be one big experiment of trial and error. I either try and succeed, and move on to try something new, or I try, fail, revise, and try again.

Today, I feel like I had more errors than I’ve had in a long time. I don’t really know how to try again right now, so I’m giving up for an hour or two.

My sister always tells me that I can start my day over at any time, and as many times as I need to. I plan on starting my day over at 2:00pm MT.

I always tell my sister that its okay to not feel mature enough to be your age. Because nobody tells you that when you’re twenty years old, you are really 20 and 19 and 18 and 17 and 16 and 15 and 14 and so on. Right now the 20 year old part of me is beating myself up a little bit, but the 16 year old part of me feels like I deserve a break, and maybe to cry a little bit.

Sometimes I don’t think that I’m brave at all, maybe just a little too accepting of my own failures.