Faking it...

Anybody who knows me knows this fact:

I am real.

Like really real.

Brutally honestly real.

Real about myself.

Real about my short comings.

I would rather tell you about everything that I have done wrong and fought about than anything that I could possibly have to brag about. I am not one to tell the good stories about myself. Not one to brag about myself.

But lately I have found that sharing who I really am gets me ridiculed and look down upon. My realness gets thrown in my face, my hurts get looked down on, my struggles "aren't that bad."

And so I have shut down all that is real about Kiki. I started to think about what people would think about me and say about me if I said certain things. I keep things to myself because no one knows the real me enough to know what I need to hear.

I hate it.

A lot.

This fake me looks "better." Acts "better." Sounds "better."

But she is a shell. She is just a little shell of the powerful woman she was before. She is a small voice inside of a dead body. She is the woman who is seen and not heard. She is hidden.

And I hate her. I hate the pretty version of myself. I hate the better looking version.

I hate the death behind her eyes.

I hate being a nice person.

It is not who I am.

Who am I?

I am the easily angered crazy psycho.

I am the person who rants for hours on end about people who make me angry.

I am the person who lashes out when hurt.

I am the person who will literally slit your throat if you hurt someone I love.

I am the person who will say it like it is.

I am the person who is real with God and about God.

I am the person who's prayer usually go something like, "What the h*** are you thinking God?"

I am the person who cries almost daily.

I feel everything to my deepest core. Every hurt, every joy, every anger, every little tiny bit of love I feel and I react to 102% of the time. I am a 0 to 90 in -2 seconds kinda of girl.

Some girls get described as fire, or a huricane, or a tidal wave, or any number of overwhelming effects of nature.

Well I am a train wreck of them all. I am the wind that blows my fire into the trees I built to protect myself only to be drowned out by the ocean that crashes into my dry soul.

And it is too much.

It is too much for people to handle. It is too overwhelming for people to love and hold onto.

One minute you are swaying in the breeze and the next you are drowning in smoke.

I am too much.

Too needy, too depressed, too controlling, too emotional, too much.

And yet, I am not enough.

I am not strong enough. I am not loving enough. I am not understanding enough. I am not good enough.

But you know what I am starting to think in writing this?

SCREW IT ALL!

I am who I am.

I am a big person. I am a huge person. I take up a lot of space in life and in relationships. I take up energy and time and desire and passion and effort. I am a sponge that soaks everything up and still wants me. I am a tremendously large soul.

And anyone who cannot carry the weight of that soul will drop me.

Anyone who loves me enough will grow their arms to hold the weight of me.

Why should I have to change just because someone can't handle that much of me?

Why should I have to die inside because someone can't handle the weight of my sorrow?

Why should I shut down my heart just because someone else doesn't know how to take it?

Why does it have to be me who has the problem?

So here it all is and I don't care who takes whatever mud from it to sling at me.

Take it all. Take whatever amo you want from this. You can't hurt me with the bullets I give you.

I miss home everyday. And I feel people have forgotten that I exist.

Which is necessary I guess, but it sucks being on the other end of it. Promised phone calls that never happen, texts that have dwindled everyday, relationships left to slowly die in the corner.

I went from fully independent woman who provide everything for herself to housewife who cooks, cleans, and does the laundry in the matter of a few short days. And sometimes I absolutely hate it. Some days I hate getting up early to take the husband to work to come home to an empty house all day long and deal with my thoughts and force myself to clean up the house. It is a hard adjustment to make. My own two feet to flat on my rear in less than a week.

I hate Cody being gone. Literally dread it everyday. I have anxiety attacks.

And I hate when people tell me to woman up about it. Or get over it. Or just focus on the time that you do have together. I just want to tell them to stick it where the sun don't shine. I get to see my husband for maybe two weeks out of the month and in those two weeks I get to actually be with him only part of those weeks. I am completely alone in a strange place and in a strange house with new friends that I am still trying to adjust to...and it sucks. My security leaves me. So don't tell me to woman up. I will cry if I feel like it. This is hard. You deal with it.

I feel like I suck the life out of the people that I do know because I literally always need company. I need people around me all the time. And at some point they are all just going to be like, I can't handle you go away.

I went from plans every single day, sometimes more than one person in a day.......to having me myself and I. And I found that I hate my own company. Like a lot. I hate sitting here and doing nothing but thinking all day.

And I hate people asking ten million and two questions about what I am doing when I really want them to ask how I am doing. I hate having to answer that I have been doing nothing more than cleaning the house because that is literally all that I can muster up the energy to do.

And I hate church. We went to one and it made me never want to go to a church ever again in my life. It was horrible. and what is sad is....it is a huge church. And a pretty modern and upbeat one. I don't want to try a church again. I really really don't care for "church" people. I don't care for the fake facade of the "joy of the Lord" when life is going on around us. I can't stand fake church people. I want TCN back. I want the place that I can smile and be upset all in the same place. I want the real God that is truly present there. I don't want this washed up and watered down Jesus that they are trying to hand me while they try to take my money. I wanted to chop the last pastor's head off and throw it in the collection plate.......Along with everyone who kept "amen"ing to his pathetic, dry, and completely impoverished sermon. It was the worst church service that I have sat through in years and I have never wanted to leave a church so badly. I literally gagged on praise that everyone was giving him after preaching. Jesus come home soon cause I can't handle that being what we have to deal with any longer.

And you know what, after saying all of that, I feel so much better.

People should try being real more often. It is soul refreshing.

Love, Kiki