Wanter Poem

My wanter is busted, or maybe it’s fine

But it pushes my feelers to so far behind

My wanter sees problems it desires to fix

Often my soul doesn’t want into that mix

The absurd and the costly, my wanter demands

I cringe at its focus, I drown in these lands

My wanter is busted, surely needs saving

Pushed along by it, my heart is done raving

God, please change my wanter to line up with You

Because it’s stuck with me, and You’re stuck with me, too

Just Don’t

Raw. Real. Reblogged. -KE

Krysten.Ivey

They say

…It is okay

Just Don’t

…that love is here

Just Don’t

…It wasn’t that bad

Just Don’t

…It is easy

Just Don’t

…someone else made it through

Just Don’t

…just move on

Just Don’t

…it is in your past

Just Don’t!!!

Do you even see me???

Hiding,

Hurting,

Ashamed,

Angry,

Dirty,

Damaged,

Broken,

Branded,

Shattered….

Take off the mask

Is it okay to scream?

Is it okay to cry?

Is it safe to trust?

Is it safe to surrender?

Is it okay to just be me?

….to take off the mask?

Dear God, I need your help.

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Skin and the HSP

Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) means I explain sensations to others. A lot. Since I experience sound, taste, touch, smell, and sight-related phenomena at a louder setting than most, everyone who knows me always wants to know just a little more.

Sometimes I try to explain what happens when my skin is maxed out on its ability to feel, but I seem to fall short on it. Many other HSPs agree with me when I use terminology of “static” and “overloaded,” but describing the feeling up-close is… well… hard.

So that’s what I’m trying to do here.

What’s it like to have HSP skin?

Let’s say I start out with skin at “normal 0″—a ground-zero of sorts, where nothing from the day before has upset my nervous system in any way, it was a good night’s sleep, and my skin is well rested and quiet.

More than likely, the process of touching the cold floor, the cold water or hot water to clean up, or cold toilet seat will be the first items of the day to take my resting brain to 90%. (I use percentages to describe to my Husband what amount of my brain is paying attention to the sensation, whatever it may be.) Of course, once I move on to clothing, the 90% will drop down to 10-20%.

Clothing decisions in the morning are always of importance. HSPs fist-bump.

Some days, I really need clothing that will not irritate my skin, i.e. make itself known via “loud” textures in an ever-growing manner. all. day. long. Other days, I’m brave and don’t care. Bring on the areas that are going raw from the stitching. If I’m in rough shape, I’m not so brave, and just about glare at those clothes and pass them over. (God bless my over-soft fluffy hoodies and Lu-La-Rue Leggings of velvety delicate goodness. You rescue my skin organ often!)

From dressing, the day will progress with various surfaces, textures, and people touching my skin. Either my choice or not. And each time, two things will happen:

  1. The surface/ texture/ person will ping in my brain to some percentage and I’ll be aware of it, especially the surfaces and textures higher than 60%, and
  2. Every single surface/ texture/ person will take a little (or a lot) from my “HSP Endurance Tank”

As the day winds down, if my HSP Endurance Tank is above, say, a quarter full, I see the day as a win. It’s usually when my tank is in the last fourth of a tank (or empty) that bad things happen.

Meh. Remind me to post about the HSP Endurance Tank sometime. Thanks.

Descriptions of Sensations

Every HSP is different. So this might not be accurate for other HSPs. Even so, here’s a list of some of the sensations my skin and I have gone through. Usually these sensations occur strongest around the back of my arms and torso. When it’s a really rough time, it will be all over, down to my toes. There you go.

Listed from least obnoxious to most.

  • weightiness
  • tiny debris feeling
  • air hurts “buzz”
  • water/ wet
  • fake burning
  • tingles
  • static
  • cold
  • tickles
  • pins and needles
  • one, solitary hair moving to tickle
  • rash sensation

 

Beyond this, I believe I’ve given you all I know about my skin.

Maybe.

I’ll let you know. 😉

endkevianaelliot

When Shattered – Phones and Other Things

Phone – My I.T. Girl opinion? I was stupid. I loved how the iPhone felt outside of its case. So that’s how I carried it around. One day, I have it on the dryer while I’m messing with laundry. Then I bumped it. Down to the tile it crashes. As soon as it hit: glass crackage. Right around the camera on the back. My soul let out a scream. I knew better and yet I shattered my phone. The only thing I could do was put it in an Otter Box to cover the glass splinters.

Strawberry Jam – My grasp on the small strawberry jam jar slipped. It may not seem like a big deal, but I love strawberry jam. And we were about out of its goodness. Almost out. (Like, all the household toast is about to cry.) BANG! The jar hit the tile on the bottom corner and then… Shatter shards allllll over the kitchen floor. At that point, you can’t eat it, even though part of the jar is sticking together thanks to the last bit of jam. No, no, no, it’s gone. Done. Sorry, toast, you’re left with butter alone.

Relationships – My INFJ ways are to let things sit while they are good. Then, once they aren’t, decide what to remedy and what to let fail. Unfortunately, I’ve always done this with people (and to this day fight to freaking. stop. it.) It starts with a friend going silent. Sometimes maybe I caused that. Then something doesn’t feel right, good, or nice about the relationship. Too late, I see the shattering, between them and I. A delayed gut-punch. All that’s left to wonder is, will friendship glue fix it, or am I too late? Usually, yes. I’m too late.

Feelings – Life happens. Someone dies. Hurt flares. Expectations are dashed. Pain of an argument that goes on and on, stretching the heart pain on for longer than a month. Peace is hard to hold within, because the “owie” overrides everything. Shattered insides much? All have been there. You might be reading this pointing at your own shatteredness in solidarity.

I get you.

A shattering can happen with anything, anytime. Job expectations. Kid expectations. Marriage expectations. Life expectations.

No one gets away unscathed.

My question is:

Who do we take our shattered parts to? Who really cares?

Does anyone really care?

I’m going to whisper this next part, because sometimes blog voices can get tart and snappish, and I’m not wanting that.

*whispers* 

I looked for answers. I really did. But I only found one who really cares.

Also is the only one can fix it: Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

Over and over I take the busted stuff in my life to Him, because I am surrendered to Him being the “fixer” in my life. He stood next to me when it happened, and He isn’t upset or mad.* He just wants to be trusted to help. He wants to be trusted to soothe. And He wants to be trusted as the One who never leaves.

He’s never been unfaithful to me. Because, yeah. Stuff shatters.

 

 

*Theologically, Jesus is in heaven after ascending to the Father and the Holy Spirit replaced Him on the earth, so God can still be lovingly with us, for those that care to invite Him in. Triune God = 3 in 1. If you have questions, first read the Book of John and the Book of Acts. Forgive the people that wear the name “Christian”… we are all busted and need our Savior. But He isn’t human. We mess up this Christian walk. He didn’t fail us. He’s perfect, so yeah. He “stood” next to me by the Holy Spirit within me; the Holy Spirit is my direct line to Jesus and God the Father, so artistic liberties on how I displayed it.

endkevianaelliot

Orchid Photos

Today a friend and I ate together at a luxury grocer cafe. Catching up proved lovely. Then we moved on to shopping.

We bought Rosemary ham from the deli (thin sandwich slices), ogled the baked goods and homemade marshmallows, browsed exotic honey, and smelled 14 specialty bath bombs. Insert huge thank-you to my similarly-bath-loving friend for purchasing the pink bath bomb for me—I can’t wait to use it!

She found kitchen towels that were on sale. I resisted the urge to buy three orchids. Resisted with all my might.

However, I whipped out my camera and had a few moments in the narrow walkway.

The orchids were gorgeous, and I had to stop and stare.

Please enjoy!