Picking up the pieces

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”
-The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I guess I can't say that this is the first time that I am writing something that is neither a blog nor a letter, and yet is both at the same time. Maybe it's a memory. Well, a memory and an apology. All I can say is first of all, thank you so much for being my friend. Whether you're reading this or listening to this being read, you couldn't know how much you mean to me, how much you've helped me, how incredible you really are.

I'm not sure what I can say or how I can write this in a way to show you that everything in this blog or letter or whatever it is is 100% honest, and that none of it is to try to draw attention to me in any way or a "cry for help", as some people could possibly imagine it to be. I suppose I'm writing this because I want those I care about most, those who care about me, to know what’s been going on. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I don't want to keep denying to them that anything is wrong when they can plainly see that it is. I don't want to keep getting called out on it, to see or imagine the look on their face when I tell them I'm fine and they know that I'm lying and keeping them in the dark.

I started this year off barely knowing a couple people, but soon met tons. And we've all had fun. We've had a lot of fun. And...I actually like living here now, something I had thought would never ever happen. But as time went on, and the less I read my Bible, and the less I prayed, and the less I even thought about God…the less I thought of myself, and the less I wanted to be around people. And then I start trying to remove my presence. I’ll start with the internet. Never get on msn, appear offline on skype, delete facebook…whatever I can to just disappear. Then I’ll try to stay away from people around me. However, I pretty much suck at avoiding people, especially last week when there was some sort of party or event going on nearly every night. And I'll say that I'll go because I want to please them, but then I want to leave the instant I get there. Or I'll plan tons of stuff because I don't want people to know that I don't want to be around them. But I'll look around at the people there, look around at all my friends, and suddenly I'll wonder why I'm even here, how people like them could even like someone like me. And it's all focused inward and I know it's not right because it's just reverse pride, but I can't make it go away. I don’t remember who I am. I’ve lost my purpose. I've forgotten what I thought was most beautiful about Encounter. How no matter how bad I am, how wrong I am, no matter what I've done, no matter what I'll ever do, if I swear or if I have bad thoughts about someone, if I lie or do something mean and nasty...no matter what: it’s ok. I don't have to pretend I'm someone I'm not. Because swearing, lying about my feelings, taking jokes too far, hurting myself, thinking bad things, saying something nasty, I mean, yeah it's bad, but Jesus loves me anyway. And I'd forgotten that.

Maybe you're wondering what this is all about. I guess most of what I've written prior to this was just putting off the inevitable. Even now I'm stalling...
Lately I've felt a bit like I'm drowning. Struggling to breathe. And most of me wants to just give up and not have to deal with anything anymore. But at the same time, it doesn't want to make the conscious decision to give up. And then I suddenly realize what I'm thinking and just berate myself so harshly because I promised myself years ago that I would never again let myself hit such a low point. There's always something to make things worthwhile. And yet somehow I sometimes manage to get to a point where I can't see that...I'll be walking down a street and just hope that I get hit by a car, or walking by the Bann and imagine different ways that I could slip and fall into the river, or be driving somewhere and part of me wonders how likely it would be to get in a car accident. I just...I don't want to hurt anyone. And I guess I'd come to the conclusion over the past few weeks that me being around people was going to hurt them somehow. But then the other day I realized that me not being around would probably hurt them more. Cause at least if I'm here, I can make it right again. At least if I'm here, I can show them how much I care.

But I’m running away again, trying to hide. I have been for quite some time. I’m still that scared little kid hiding in the closet…still haven’t grown out of that. It’s always the same pattern. And I’m reminded of old blogs, old notes I’ve written to myself about how things are and how I feel. I’m still the Israelite in the wilderness, continually coming back again and again to relearn the lessons I learned before. I guess in particular, two times that stick out to me are a few months after my mom died when I wrote:

Sometimes the easiest way to get by is to make people happy. Sometimes the number of smiles you help create in a day is what you cling to. Sometimes you can look like the happiest person in the room but on the inside you're the saddest. Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying.

And then a few months after that, my last summer in America:

And I was sort of happy but not really. Because I knew that even though everything wasn't ok, it would be at some point in the future, even if I didn't know when. And that was enough because it had to be enough. Because there was nothing else. And even though it was enough, it wasn't really.

And now I realize it’s still the same. Through it all…every time I think I’ve moved on…but it always comes back to the same things. I always try to make it enough, and it never is. There’s always something missing. And I always hide things until it’s too late. I guess what I’m mainly getting at here is my tendency to block everyone out when I’m feeling down. More specifically, almost a month ago I decided that because I didn’t want to hurt any of my friends, I just wouldn’t say anything. I’d be “fine”. Timelord fine, I call it, because of that episode of Dr. Who where Donna asks the Doctor how he is doing and he says he’s fine, so she asks “Is that timelord for not so fine?” It’s just…I feel like there has to be more than this. And maybe there is. Maybe I just haven’t quite figured things out yet. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Or maybe that’s complete bullshit and I’m still hiding. Hiding because I feel like I’m not good enough, but know that that doesn’t matter. Hiding because I don’t want to accept that right now. Hiding because I want to fix me.

This isn’t your usual motivational letter. In fact, it’s not really motivational at all. I think it’s the opposite of that. I suppose, to sum it all up, what I’m trying to say is that I’m tired and I want to be done, but I know that I can’t be. And my last blog, my almost “suicide letter” comes to mind:

And with every cut the shame runs deeper. And with every scratch the pain grow less. And with every burn the little mocking voice gets louder.
”This is your life. It’s who you are. It defines you. It’s all you'll ever be.”
And no matter how many times other people tell me, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself...I'll never be anything more.
This is everything. This is me. Forever.

The End.

It’s time to stop thinking like this. My dad and Claire were cleaning out books recently. They had about ten to fifteen Bibles to give away because there were like twenty more on the shelf. As I was passing by, Claire stopped me and asked if I was reading my Bible. For the first time in a long time, I was honest about it and said no. So she passed me this Bible that is split up differently than a normal Bible. It’s a Bible-in-a-year Bible. So like…it’s split into days, and each day will have like say a few chapters of an Old Testament book, and a few chapters of a New Testament book. That way you know what day you’re on and you know you’ve read through the entire thing. I’m going to try to start doing that.

So this is just stuff that I wanted you to know because you’re my friend and because I know you care. And I want to say I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed strange or distant. I’m sorry if I’ve appeared to have ignored you, either in person or over facebook, emails, and skype. I’m sorry I’ve let myself get this way. I’m sorry I don’t let you in. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry I’ve been lying.

And so I guess, as well as being an apology, this is also a message from me to you, asking for patience. Patience with me in dealing with what has happened and is happening to me, and the fact that it can get me so low sometimes. Patience in my apparent inability to trust you to the extent that you deserve due to the way I’ve been treated in the past and my continual convincing of myself that the same will happen again. Patience in me, in…just in who I am in general.

Thank you again for being my friend, for looking out for me and for just caring. It really means a lot. And just to end everything, I realize that a lot of what I go through is experienced by many other people. This is just my take on things, my apology, but I want you to know that I will try my hardest to treat you with all the patience, respect, care, love and trustworthiness that a friend should.

Your friend,

Louise McConnell

the end

Trapped. Trapped again. Trapped in this cycle that sometimes stops but never goes away completely.

And with every cut the shame runs deeper. And with every scratch the pain grow less. And with every burn the little mocking voice gets louder.

"This is your life. Its who you are. It defines you. Its all you'll ever be."

And no matter how many times other people tell me, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself...I'll never be anything more.

This is everything. This is me. Forever.


The End.

Not much to say, but so much to think about

I realized tonight that some of my friends kill people for their jobs. I wonder how it must feel. I wonder if they remember each face. I wonder if they are haunted in their dreams. I wonder if some of them actually do enjoy it. I wonder if they just do it because they believe it's the best way to serve their country. I wonder how conflicted the Christians are, how conflicted the non-Christians are. I wonder who it affects the most.

Can they live with it? Knowing that in order to save some families, they need to break others? Why does the world need to be like this? Why did we let it be like this?

Feeling hurts, but not feeling might hurt more

I’ve started to wonder if feeling is worth it. I’ve started to wonder if caring is worth it. It was so much easier when I didn’t feel anything. When everything just happened and I took it. And nothing mattered because I just didn’t care. But it took me almost four years to get out of that, do I really want to go back there? It would be so easy to…but so hard. I don’t want to give up the real feelings that I’ve finally had. But…they’re slowly killing me on the inside, bit by bit, every weekend. Every nasty look, every bad comment. I’m not good enough, I can’t please them, I don’t do things right, I start fights…I start fights when I’m not even there. I’m almost afraid to go back this weekend…

I try. I really do. I want things to be ok. I want us all to get along. But nothings working. And continually I wonder if I’m the problem because things seem to go just fine when I’m not there. And Claire’s still not happy that I’m not living at the house. She brings it up all the time. But she didn’t even want me at the house. They don’t have room for me there. If I was there, I’d be spending the same amount on transport anyway even though she thinks I wouldn’t. And I’d be so much farther from everyone and wouldn’t ever be able to do anything with people.

I feel trapped. If I was in America, if I had the Sable, I’d get in and just leave. Drive two or three hours out, and then come back, like the night I went to Redmond. I wish I had a car just for that. I don’t even care about taking the bus to school or walking places or anything. Just if I could leave anytime I wanted to. That’s it.
I’ve been freaking out and worrying and I know I shouldn’t be :/ I really should start reading my bible again, but I don’t have it. I think it’s still in Dublin…I don’t want to get a new one, because I’ve been through a lot with that one. It was from my mom when I was 11. It’s been through periods of intense study, periods of intense loathing, been thrown against walls in anger, been placed under my pillow for safekeeping. I know it’s just a book and getting another really shouldn’t be that big of a deal and I really shouldn’t be that attached… :/ but I don’t know. There’s also a note from my dad in there that he wrote when I graduated from high school. I think it was the first time that I really believed he was proud of me, because it took a lot more than it should have to get me to graduate. It’s my only copy of that note.

I’m back to the “I’m not good enough” stage where I was before Encounter. I guess there’s a difference between knowing truth and believing it. I’ll convince myself that I am worth it, that people do care and that I am likeable, and everything’s ok. But then I get treated like I’m not and they act like they don’t care and I know that I’m not liked…and suddenly, I start to question again. And each time it hits me deeper. And each time I have to start convincing myself all over again. And each time it gets harder and harder to do so.




Also, I need to tell somebody this, but I don’t want to actually tell someone. It was seven months. That’s the longest it’s ever been. Now I’m back to zero. Well not really. Probably not according to most people. But to me it counts. And to me it’s starting over.


And I was right. I do feel like a failure.

A letter I may never send

I don't know what to say to you. I don't even know how to start. Maybe with a question. What happened to us? What changed? Where did that sweet, sweet boy go? Why are things so different?

I wonder if you know the power you have over me. If you understand how much I would do for you. There was a time when I would have done anything you asked me to. But that's gone. It has to be gone. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.

All I ever wanted to do was make you happy. No matter what it was, as long as it made you happy, it made me happy. And then I realized that doing anything to make you happy wasn't making me happy. And then I realized that it wasn't really making you happy either. I can't make you happy. I can't answer all your questions. No matter how much I want to. And it kills me that I can't.

Any little criticism you make...do you know how much it affects me? How much I think on it and think on it and wonder if maybe you're right. If maybe you'll like me better if I change. And then when you say things that hurt, I don't let myself cry. I won't. I refuse to. Because of that stupid little phrase "the one worth crying over is the one who won't make you cry". I've grown to despise that phrase.

I care about you so much. I feel like you know me better than anyone else. I feel like I know you better than anyone else. We've seen each other at our best and at our worst. I don't want to lose your friendship. I don't want to have to say goodbye to you, ever. But things have to change. I know things are hard for you right now, but...that doesn't give you the right to take advantage of people the way you do.

I would have given you anything. I would have given you everything. But not anymore. Because now I can't. Now I know that it wouldn't be good for either of us.

So this is it. This is me stepping back. Because it's not ok. Because...because you just aren't good for me. It's time for me to forget about any hopes or ideas about us being anything more than what we are. It's time to let go.

Psalm 56

1 O God, have mercy on me,
for people are hounding me.
My foes attack me all day long.
2 I am constantly hounded by those who slander me,
and many are boldly attacking me.
3 But when I am afraid,
I will put my trust in you.
4 I praise God for what he has promised.
I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
What can mere mortals do to me?

5 They are always twisting what I say;
they spend their days plotting to harm me.
6 They come together to spy on me—
watching my every step, eager to kill me.
7 Don’t let them get away with their wickedness;
in your anger, O God, bring them down.

8 You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.

9 My enemies will retreat when I call to you for help.
This I know: God is on my side!
10 I praise God for what he has promised;
Yes, I praise the Lord for what he has promised.
11 I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
What can mere mortals do to me?

12 I will fulfill my vows to you, O God,
and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for your help.
13 For you have rescued me from death;
you have kept my feet from slipping.
So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
in your life-giving light.


You have collected all my tears in your bottle.

I cried when I read that.

Who will fill my tires?

I feel like a car with slightly flat tires. The car still runs, but the lack of air in the tires is a drain on both the car and the fuel tank. I'm still functioning, but I'm running on a sad type of energy which is slowly draining me to the point of exhaustion. I need to find a way to fill up my tires.

It's interesting how when I leave, I'm always doing ok, but then the minute I set foot out of the train station and back into Coleraine again, everything crashes. It's like a huge block comes down on top of me and squashes me flat. And then it stays there until the next time I leave again. Over time, I gradually get used to it and can grow to ignore it, but it's still there. Is this part of not being content with where I'm at? Or is it something more?