Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

     Today Jeff Gordon won at the Brickyard 400, setting a record for 5 Brickyard 400 wins! Do you pick 'em, or do you pick 'em? I watched it while eating a steak and thinking of you. Missing you really. It was quite funny, Kasey Kahne (my favorite driver) held the lead for 70 laps and Gordon (your favorite driver) had what seemed to be only one shot to pass him, and he did! I know if you were here watching it with me we would have been screaming for our drivers, pushing each other over while laughing, betting on which one of ours would win, and then you would have gloated for the rest of the day about how awesome Jeff is. Goodness, I miss you. Not a day goes by that something doesn't remind me of you and I am caught in a haze of reminiscing. I find that I lost my artistic outlets when I lost you... I no longer want to dance or sing. I can't even look at the violin you bought me without hearing your encouragement about it's beauty, and missing you because you truly were the best audience to play for. My mind's eye won't give me images to paint, and I can't write worth anything anymore. I am sure that in time I will find the inspiration to pick those things up again.

     The numbness is gone though, Daddy. I am not sure how I feel about this though. Sometimes the numbness was nice because my heart didn't hurt so bad. But now I feel...I feel everything. I missed the ability to be alive really. It has been a few long months of complete complacency with life, and it is nice to have the emotions back. As much as the times of sorrow cripple me, the times of joy are pure ecstasy. It is nice to somewhat be back to my usual beauty-seeking self. I know you wouldn't have enjoyed to see the pit of depression I became, but I know you would have understood. How could I not struggle with depression loosing someone as impacting and close to me as you. Thank you for teaching me to love life and everyone in it. I truly want to strive to obtain your love for others. I just have some childish hope that you are looking down at me, and smiling.

     Saturday I went wake boarding, and I was actually good at it! I see why you loved it so much when you were healthy! I wish you could have been sitting there in the boat watching me glide over the wake, facing one of my fears. I was so scared to do it, but I thought if my Daddy could love it so can I. I did it for you really. I also rode a jet-ski! I kept thinking of the stories you used to tell me about your jet-skies, especially the one where you dropped Baby Amber off of it on accident.... Point for Daddy. Maybe that is where I got my fear of water. Who knows. Grandma really misses you too, Dad. Her heart hurts a lot, and I really want to help but I don't know how. I don't think you know exactly how much you meant to everyone left here on Earth. Grandma really devoted her life to caring for you, and I don't think I could ever thank her enough. I am sure you feel the same way though. 

     I keep having these panic attacks over forgetting parts of you. It makes no sense really, but I will try to think of your face and not be able to come up with a picture of you in my head. Or, I will try to remember something you said to me and not be able to hear your voice. It is terrifying to me because I never want to forget you. Eventually I have memories that bring me images and sounds and I remember, but for those brief moments my heart stops and I am mortified. I got a promotion at work, Dad. I know if there was a way for me to call you and tell you you would say exactly this: "Baby! I am so proud of you! You work so hard! Can you take a day off though so we can go to Six Flags? I like Roller Coasters." I know you are proud of me. I do work really hard. But God, what I would give to hear you say it one more time. I know, that is a little vain, but you understand I am sure. I wonder if you miss people too when you're in heaven? Does it hurt you not to be able to talk to me too? Do you miss our midnight phone calls as much as I do? Sometimes the gap that is left in my heart seems to take over my whole existence. Some days are better than others, but lately they've been pretty rough. I think reality has set in that I won't ever get to hear you say I love you, or that you are proud of me, or even blame the airplanes for your flatulence. I miss you. I always will.

Now, go race your Nascars in Heaven and kick some butt!

Hugs, squeezers, kisses.

Bucketlist

     I have been thinking about life lately, and the uncertainty of it all. It seems that in an instant anyone can get cancer, or get in a car accident, or just die. I keep asking myself if my time were to soon come to an end if I would be satisfied with the adventure I created for myself, and the answer is no. I feel like I have not lived my life to the fullest! So starting today I am going to actively pursue completing my busketlist, and if something happens and I die in the midst of this process...well at least I tried! So here it is:

1. Skydive over Lake Tahoe

2. Climb the face of Half Dome

3. Swim under a waterfall

4. See brightly colored fish up close

5. Fall in love

6. Change someone's life for the better

7. Apologize to the people I hurt

8. Get my B.S

9. Have a job I love

10. Send a care package to a dear friend

11. Help fight sex trafficking in Poland

12. Go back to Mexico

13. Find something to love in every person I meet

14. Hot air balloon ride over Napa

15. Climb up the cliff I found at Bodega Head (Done)

16. Go to Ireland

17. Make tiramisu

18. Learn to talk to people

19. Make new friends

20. Dress up as Mario and Peach and go go-kart Racing....don't judge me

21. Finish Daddy's Lego Star Wars collection

22. Get married and have a ridiculously pinterestified wedding

23. Have a baby boy and give him my daddy's name

24. Teach Hannah how to read music

25. Write my life story...even if only for my eyes to read

26. Read the Bible cover to cover

27. Play my violin with Corrine

28. Be a positive and friendly person to everyone I meet

29. Paint an elephant picture

30. Ride an elephant

31. Fill a sketch book

32. Write letters with Joan (the boy David and I sponsor from Nicaragua)

33. Learn to meditate

34. Treat illnesses in Africa

35. Ride in a plane while David is flying

36. Paint the picture my dad always wanted me to paint him

37. Sing in front of people (Done)

38. Put my pointe shoes back on

39. keep my splits

40. Buy a house

41. Have a garden

42. Own a horse

43. Run a half marathon

44. Go wake boarding (Done)

45. Give my dream key away to someone who needs it or I feel could use it (Done)

46. Help the homeless

47. Sing worship music with prisoners

48. Write a letter to the boy who saved my life

49. Give my brother an example to follow

50. Love everyone a little more than they love me

51. Get a tattoo (Done)
52.See the Northern Lights

53. Leave this earth with a legacy...even if that means just one life that I touched permanently

On a completely unrelated note...

Oh, I can't talk to you the way I've wanted to
I've been tellin' lies but I'll tell you the truth

Darling, I'm tired and I should be leaving, leaving.





Blind to the Beauty of Friends

Solitude. A word with so much inner meaning, so much connotation of both neutral and negative regards. A word that depending on where you are fixed in your life’s journey, or how you are currently viewing your circumstances, can hold many different faces. In solitude you can find peace. In solitude you can find growth. In solitude you can find independence and strength. In solitude you can find great depression. In solitude you can lose hope. In solitude you can lose yourself. Solitude, a noun, meaning a state or situation of being alone; in a lonely or uninhabited place. The definition itself even sounds somber. For how can one be entirely isolated and not feel empty? How can one be completely solitary and not encompass seclusion? How can one be vastly unaccompanied and not harbor reclusiveness? Being alone also has many facets, for one can be physically unattended but feel the love and care of others even without tangible correspondence. They are alone but not lonely. One can be in a room surrounded by many faces while still feeling entirely destitute and withdrawn. They are lonesome but not alone. One can even have people, close people, telling them they are loved and cared for and still feel companionless. They are blind.

I am blind.

For I walk through this world with eyes closed to the beauty around me. The beauty in friendships, the beauty in love, the beauty in empathetic people. As my heart has built up walls protecting itself, it has also closed off my eyes from seeing this world, and the people in it, the way I should. I have become blind and hardened. I have become selfish; Rejecting the open hands and offers for solace in my own pride and fear. I have let the tear-filled past shape my lonely present, in turn tarnishing my ever changing future. I have molded the perimeter set around my being with such pessimism and distaste for sympathetic interactions that I am unable to differentiate between those who actually love and those who despitefully use, leaving me to do the one thing I do best –run away. I have picked up this one and only self-defense mechanism and it is escape; harmful to those who care and beneficial to those who don’t. I am so afraid of being vulnerable and simply just existing that I disappear before anyone can see me in that place. Even the ones who want to know me fully and desire to understand and nurture my vulnerability. 

The truth is everyone has people who care about them. The people who know exactly who you are, and what makes you a psychotic human being. The people who see all of your flaws and know exactly how poorly human nature has tainted your existence, but love you anyway. The people who despite all of your short comings lay by your side all night long just to ensure your sorrows don’t swallow up your existence. The people who wipe your tears on your front lawn while you wail about how unfair death is to the people left behind. The people who draw sparkler shapes in memory of your dad all over your court. The people who sternly tell you that life goes on and to buck up, providing you with a harsh reminder that they love you because you desperately needed it. The people who bring you taco bell and ice cream at midnight because your depression has caused you to not eat. The people who text you daily to make sure you remember to smile. The long lost friend who resurfaces in your life, providing you with hour long phone calls about what has happened since we were 14. The ones who foster the positivity to make work go by so much faster. The ones who tell jokes to build up office morale. The roommates that watch chick flicks with you, willingly revoking all of their manliness just because you want to see them. The people who sit by your side and hold your hand through every hospital trip and doctor’s appointment. The people who take you to the most beautiful spot on the beach because you need to remember beauty even for a moment. The people who remind you that you are beautiful, and constantly compliment the way you smell and your pretty hair –even if you don’t recognize it yourself. The people who give forehead kisses when they are most needed. The people who cry at the thought of losing you to giving up on this world; who care so much about you that having you not recognize their love brings them to tears –even if you have only known them for a couple months. The people who open up to you and let you have a piece of their heart and mind. The people who through all of your insanity have stood by you because they know your character and they know who you long to be. The people who know you better than you know yourself and see the worth even when you don’t. The people who even though they rarely ever pay attention to their phone spend two entire days in virtual correspondence with you to help field through your sorrows. The people who are patient with you in all of your moodiness and inability to love completely. The people who have not given up on you when it feels like the whole world is considering it.

For even in my blindness, I see.

I see your love and I am trying so diligently to recognize and reciprocate it. The truth is, every day I feel alone. I know you all are there for me but the solitude has set in. I am working so hard to get past it. Just know, that I see and am grateful for all you do for me. I am sorry for my short comings. I am sorry I run away from you. I can only promise to try better one day at a time.

It is important that we do not forget the people who are no longer standing by our sides. The ones who did give up on us. For every person enters your life with the capacity to change it. Some are meant to be there for a short time and alter it then, others are the true givers who stay for the vast journey that is your existence. I appreciate those who came and went, for I am certain that I gained something from them. The ones who showed you what it meant to take spontaneous drives at four in the morning just to think. The one who saved your life when you couldn’t hold on. The one who made you promise to never give up. The one who stayed up many nights listening to you vent about your love drama with his brother, and genuinely trying to help. The ones who helped you remember who you were when you had forgotten. The ones who tried to fight your stubbornness and make you go to the doctor. The ones who offered distraction from sadness with best friend movie dates. The ones who told you how it was with such brutal honesty that your life would be altered forever. The one who broke your heart and taught you to forgive. The ones who held your hand and carried you to your bed when you couldn’t walk. The ones who made you laugh and sang to you. The ones who took you into their home and offered you refuge from the world. The one who showed you exactly how beautiful brains can be. The one with the kind eyes. 

The ones who taught you the benefit of despondency and numbness –how advantageous barriers can be.

Despondency

She stands on the edge with arms outstretched,
the wind racing against her skin.
She wants to feel, she dares for change
as the numbness has already set in.
Fixed on this precipice
she searches for some response.
Fear, anxiety, uncertainty--
anything but lost.
With precarious paralysis
she'll watch the waves swallow stone.
The vulnerability of her existence
resting in her hands alone.
Her goal is not to escape this world,
but apathy just for a moment.
For on the edge of life itself,
she is the only one who can control it.
Because looking over the oceans depths
she can feel despite her despondency.
Allowing her to continue living
in this broken reality.

The Fourth of Hell, The Fifth of Never Happy

     Hopeless. Lost. Angry. Lonely. Confused. Depressed. Exhausted. No, I am not okay so please don't ask. Also, if the words you think you want to say to me fall somewhere along the lines of, "In time this will get better," or, "This pain will pass," or maybe even, "God heals all things, and I am here for you. It was his time to go, so you will be okay as soon as the shock wears off." JUST DON'T! 

I understand the sincere concerns and genuine care all of these words express, but the truth is they make it worse. My heart aches with a pain many of you cannot fathom, not only over the loss of my father but the irony in timing. I will never be okay, and this pain will never pass. The truth is, I will wake up everyday a little more numb to the thought of losing my best friend, but I will never be okay. Our hearts are tricky things, they have this uncanny ability to help you by placing scar tissue over even the largest of lacerations,  but it only takes one memory to reopen that scar tissue and feel all the pain again. I was not okay yesterday, I am not okay today, and I sure as hell won't be tomorrow.

     I will forever miss the unlimited amounts of phone calls I got daily just to remind me how much I was loved. I will constantly long for just one more hug. I will always wish I could rub his swollen, sore, feet just once more. Every time I see a hot wheel,  dragon, or shot glass I will think of the man that altered my life in so many ways. Not many of you know my story, and it's not one that I like to tell because of how much pain it causes me, so I won't. I will summarize by saying childhood was rough. My dad made poor choices, which caused great consequences for my mother and his kids, but that didn't mean he didn't love us. He loved us so much more than I ever could understand. Despite his anger and addictions, he had his good days and those are the days I will cling to for the rest of my time here. My dad did some horrible things, but about 5 years ago he decided to change it all and choose a new life. His story is one of growth, self evaluation, and atoning.  He spent the last 5 years apologizing for the past, and he wanted us kids to know that the man we remember from our early years was not who he was. He wanted our forgiveness.  He loved us so much and needed us to know that.

     

     Jonathan Edward Mann was a fighter. Years ago we were told he wouldn't live to see the next Christmas,  but my daddy kept saying he wouldn't let that happen because he had two girls to walk down the isle. He fought so hard, and it was only for us. It would have been so much easier for him to give up, to leave this god awful place, and disappear into an ever so inviting blackness, but he didnt. Not a day went by in the last 5 years that my dad didn't tell me how much I meant to him, or how proud he was of my accomplishments. He loved so selflessly,  that I can only dream to be like him.

Why will today and tomorrow be so hard for me? Let me tell you about my favorite tradition.  My dad loved fireworks,  and even more than he loved fireworks,  he loved me. The fifth of July is my birthday, so every fourth my dad would begin celebrating as soon as it got dark. We would light fireworks until midnight. Then when the clock struck twelve, every year my dad bought me a special birthday firework (one of those 50 dollar 10 minute long ones) and he would light it off and sing happy birthday to me the entire time the thing wailed and threw sparks. The night between the fourth and the fifth has always been our time. My daddy and me. I know it might sound ridiculous,  but that is why my heart hurts so badly. I can't imagine another independence day or birthday without his smile and warm hugs.

     I know that my dad was sick for a long time, and I should have been at least somewhat prepared, but one is never ready to say goodbye. Especially not to a man who loved so fully.

     I will always miss you dad, and to be honest I don't know how I am going to get through tonight, let alone the rest of my life. I can't imagine a wedding day, a graduation, Christmas, or having kids without you in my life. I can't even find the desire to get out of bed. I wish I could tell you that I forgive you. I forgive you for everything. And I am sorry that I wasn't as there for you as I should have been towards the end. You are a true inspiration of turning your life around and fixing relationships,  I only hope I can be half the Mann you were. I love you to the moon and back. 

              

   "Hugs. Squeezers. Kisses."

Tell Me Your Story

     I went to my first psychiatric appointment this morning, bear with me while I vent about the pointless excursion that was. Basically, psychiatry can be defined as an obnoxiously optimistic person with no idea (outside of what their books have told them) what you are going through, trying to tell you how to fix the decaying life you lay before them. Their goal for the session is to change your opinions about existence and alter the way you see reality entirely --and if that doesn't work there is always drugs!

     I really do apologize for those of you who find it useful, I just had a rather negative experience today while a lady seemingly listened to my life story and what causes my anxiety attacks, but it was painfully obvious that she did not truly listen or even genuinely care. She kept reverting back to the same conclusion, that I need stress therapy because I work too much. Really, that is what you think is causing my stress currently?! It couldn't possibly be this ridiculous health issue I have been dealt... no that would be too simple. She wasn't hearing what I was really saying, she had put me in a demographic box and I could not penetrate the walls no matter how forcefully I shoved. I was a 20 year old full-time student, who works full-time, and does not allow myself time to relax. Her solution to my life's dilemma was to find more "me" time. What she wasn't hearing was my desperate attempts to educate her on my well-being and acceptance of death as a whole. I do not have anxiety because of a lack of relaxation or too much stress, I have anxiety because currently my life is in shambles. My health is not where I would like it. My relationships crumble before I can even consider them relationships. My self image is depreciating daily. And, I am overall just bored with what life has to offer. In contradiction to her theory, I actually have the most anxiety when I am relaxing. I can not sit still and just be, for it is when my hands are not busy that my mind harmfully wanders. When I am constantly working or engaging myself in activities, my worries seem to step on the back burner. Maybe this is because I am really good at faking that I am happy when in contact with others, so much that sometimes I actually believe it too! I guess my point is that she didn't listen. Sure, she heard the words that I was uttering, but she didn't really listen and comprehend what I was saying. I found more genuine interest from the "How are you today?" the receptionist offered when I checked in.

     I think this is something we lack as a society, and it is gradually wearing me down. We do not understand what it means to have compassion or empathy with other beings and it utterly disgusts me. I mean if we would just digest people's actions, words, and feelings more thoroughly, and genuinely care about them as a person, maybe we would understand each other so much better. My point is simple: Everyone has a story, and if we could just hear and truly listen to people's story we would not know hatred. That is what compassion and empathy are, they are not just taking a person at face value. Instead, invest some time in your fellow man. When you ask them how they are doing actually care about their response, not just because that inquiry has become a social stigma in today's culture. I hurt to know that we live in such a selfish society that our first inclination is judgement instead of trying to comprehend the soul and what it has endured. I say things things not intending to sound as if I am better than anyone else, because I too need to work on this. Life sucks, it sucks for everyone. No one's problems are any greater than another; each struggle is unique in how the person experiences it. My goal in this life is to never leave a life untouched. I want to bring something positive to every soul I encounter, even if that means just understanding who they are as a person. I deeply long to know the true story of everyone I meet, and if I do not know yours, trust me I want to --please share your life with me. (I say this, and I am so hesitant to tell people my story. My sincerest apologies for the hypocrisy that comes from my insecurity to talk, but I live to listen and try and understand others.)

    I heard this song in seventh grade and it still affects me daily. It isn't really one I would willingly turn on, but the lyrics are meaningful. 

     On an entirely unrelated note:

     I started keeping a notepad of all of the beautiful things I witness or encounter in the day and told myself I would reflect back on them in my personal journal keeping. This is in attempt to remind myself that there is still beauty in this world, because I think in the last few months I have dramatically forgotten. In my defense, life has not pulled any punches lately. But today's beauty lies in the eyes of Hannah and Kate, the girls I nanny for. I need not say more. They added beauty to my day, it is simple. 

The Trees Are Filled With Memories of the Feelings Never Told

Allow me to just leave this here... That is all for tonight. I shall attempt to once again escape reality with a run. The sweetest of dreams to whomever you are.

A Deeper Explanation

 

                A few days ago, my best friends and I took an entirely spontaneous trip to the ocean. This is not an unusual occurrence for me, as I find the sound of the waves the most calming of any melody this world produces. I often discover myself evading the treachery of the current life I am living through the escapement offered to me when my foot touches the gas pedal of my car. Lately, this ability to disappear for a short time to beautiful locations has allowed me to circumvent the frustration I have with this load I am bearing. This time, I was lucky enough to enjoy the company of some of the people who mean the most to me. After some mediation, guided by the symphony of the waves, we began discussing the intricacy that is life itself. Paige asked me if I had feelings for someone, and if so what I saw coming from them –for those of you who know me well, you know my opinions on being in love and relationships, and are probably wondering why she would have subjected herself to such torture as to listen to my pessimistic response –but it is clear that Paige cares deeply about everyone around her and genuinely wants to penetrate the walls that they have formed. But I fear I may not have adequately represented myself in my emotional war with the idea of love.

                I have been thinking a lot these last few days about the conversation we had. About what love is, and what exactly it resonates within me. Mainly it manufactures a sense of fear that I worry will always saturate my life. Secretly, yet not so secretly, I am a hopeless romantic. I want nothing more in this life than to find a boy who is going to change all of my distaste for relationships, one who will demonstrate what it means to be selfless. I fear that my expectations are rather unrealistic in nature and allow for great disappointment and solitude. I am terrified because when I love, I want to I love with my whole being. I do not possess the capability to compartmentalize my passions. I long to open my heart up entirely to those who mean the most to me and allow them to capture pieces of my soul that are unfathomably fragile. When I love, I want to love fiercely. I fear that this type of love is suffocating to others and leaves me entirely vulnerable.

I guess one could say I am cynical about relationships due to a lack of trust in my fellow man. Essentially I would agree, but it is so much more than that. It is the idea of the great apotheosis. That is, that one elevates an idea or a being to a divine status; however, once they have been able to grasp that entity that they have lifted to a dream like stature, they realize that all is not as glorious as when they fantasized it initially. For everything ends in time. There will always be hurt, disappointment, and death. Another great part of my hesitance in romantics is my own self-deprecation. I realize and fully understand that I have possibly one of the lowest self-esteems that has ever existed, and that is not anyone’s worriment but my own. I find no value in what I have to offer to another. I do not wish to subject another soul to the deep pit of pessimism that mine has so gradually become, nor do I feel that anyone should allow themselves to feel responsible for providing happiness in my life. I am a firm believer that you cannot fix someone, you can only stand by them in spite of their short comings –I fear I have too many.

Now, I am not saying that I do not have romantic feelings. As I stated, I am entirely a hopeless romantic with all together way too high of expectations. I definitely have people I enjoy the company of more than others. I am attracted to others, mainly on a basis of personality and capability to be real. I crush…HARD. I openly welcome the opportunity for love to appear in my life, because even for the small amount of time that flings endure, they are worth the moments of happiness that come from them and the potential for a change in my opinions. Since I was 16 I have had a rule that I still live by today: I will give anybody with enough courage to ask me on a date a shot. Even if it is just one date, just one chance at creating our own destiny, I will not deny them the opportunity to prove me wrong. (After that one chance, the choice to politely decline further invitations is mine to make.) My expectations are clear yet steep and rather unreasonable, this I understand. Perfection is impossible, but that does not mean that as a people we should stop striving to achieve it.

All I know is this: If I ever do find myself falling in love, it will be simply with the mind, and character of a truly genuine person.