This Side of Invisible

Mixed Messages by Aimee Rae Ellington MIXED MESSAGES      MIXED MESSAGES           MIXED MESSAGES Dinner is served.     "All is well."              All is not well!     "Stop whimpering! You are fine!"             I am NOT fine.                 NO, I'M IN PAIN!!!     "Sit down and eat your supper."             It hurts to sit down                    can't you tell                            didn't you hear my screams                                     can't you feel my PAIN??? "Clean up your plate.      Don't you appreciate how hard your mother...

--> Au Naturel : in a natural state; without anything added. Bare : devoid of amplification or adornment; lacking tools or weapons. Raw : not treated or prepared for presentation, marked absence of refinements, unprotected. Nude : without conventional covering; having a natural appearance. Naked : devoid of concealment or disguise; lacking embellishment. In the beginning, God’s children came into this world naked and naked they remained while in close communion with Him. It was only after Adam and Eve had gone against their Father’s wishes and partaken of the forbidden fruit that Satan pointed to their nakedness and shamed them for it, pushing them to hide themselves from God. It has been the story ever since. Death is a separation of our spirit and bodies. Eternal death or spiritual death is a separation from our Father in Heaven. This is the Adversary’s sole focus. And since the beginning he’s known just how to push us away from God. He villainizes our divine origin, ...

Thanks to the brilliant C.J. Anaya, I get to introduce you to one of my favorite characters today.  C.J. invited me to be a part of this blog hop and few weeks ago, and, finally, it's my turn. But before we get to my man Luke, please meet C. J. Anaya. C. J. Anaya began writing short stories for family and friends when she was thirteen years old. This soon morphed into an extensive project every year during Christmas as a way to create a fun and inexpensive Christmas gift. Now she is the author of “The Healer” . Ladies and Gents, I've read this book and it is FAN-Freakin-TASTIC! I recommend it wholeheartedly. Her passion for reading and writing led her to following her own dreams of becoming a published author. She was born in Utah and raised everywhere else. She even lived a few years in Brazil, enjoying the people, the culture and learning the beautiful language of Portuguese; a language she is still fluent in to this day. As a result of her exposure to...

Looking back now, it’s all so obvious. But you know what they say about hindsight… The first time I cut my own hair, we were living in Wyoming, it was summer and I was hot. I was tired of trying to grow my hair out and we didn’t have money that day for me to go to a salon, so I just started chopping. It was liberating. Setting myself free from my heavy, overlong tresses. Okay, let’s be honest, my hair was just reaching my shoulders, but anyone that knows me knows that I’ve had short hair for over fifteen years. It’s just me. Though, there may be a mental block as to why that is… hmmm, I’ll have to ponder that one. I remember feeling like a new woman after giving myself that first haircut. Something inside me felt lighter, a little less stressed, a little less painful. That should have been my first clue. Well, that and the timing… it was a remarkably stressful time for me. Over the past seven years, I’ve continued to sporadically cut my hair. Though it’s gone from ...

A while ago, I was prompted to write about a place I had been, I chose to write about my experience inside depression. INSIDE It’s dark in this place.  The kind of dark that paralyzes every muscle and weighs heavy in one’s lungs. It presses in on my ears with its silence, causing them to ring.  I want to scream, but my mouth won’t open.  Every joint and ligament is tense, waiting to spring into action. The very marrow in my bones struggles against unseen restraints.  Sweat collects on my forehead from the effort.  My head spins as my breathing grows evermore shallow.  I’m on the verge of implosion, though, from outward view it probably seems like a quiet collapse.  It is not quiet.  The shrieking pain of it all pushes blood from my ears. I am dying.   No, I realize.  My fate is worse.  I’m a prisoner here.  Fear has me in his clasp and laughs at my timorous attempt to escape.  Hot tears pool in my ears, not blood, ...

The house is quiet… mostly. Except for the whispers of my boys who are determined not to sleep. Not that I can blame them, there’s a pretty awesome thunderstorm happening right now. I’m sitting in my dark office, watching lightning illuminate the world outside the large picture window. The almost dead, but refusing to die tree in the front yard is rocking rather precariously over my husband’s car. If I close my eyes and listen, I can hear the sophisticated symphony of the storm: wind whooshing, thunder rumbling soft and low in the distance, and rain slapping and tapping and patting the world around me. It’s a lovely lullaby. And yet, I can’t sleep. It's ironic that just a week or so after Bruncle was admitted to a residential treatment facility I was approached about publishing this essay about him. It was almost painful to say "Yes, I'd love to have it published" when it seemed to be null and void. It's not. Not completely anyway, but it felt li...

Dear Insecure, Unstable, Unlovable Girl, It’s not you. It’s me. Honest. I’ve outgrown your skin. I’m too big to live wrapped up tight in your shell, being an observer in my own life. I want to be the main character in my story. I’m no longer content to pass through my days listening to the voices in my head that write my life for me. I want to create my own magic. I’ve met this man. He’s a good man. He makes me laugh. He shows me all the ways I’m beautiful. He grounds me with his kisses and loves me inside my mess. But sometimes, I feel so lonely even when I’m wrapped in his arms. Then, late at night, I cry. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’m exhausted. I want to laugh all the time. To smile every moment, even in the chaotic, disappointing ones. I want to smile because I’m me. And being me is good. Being me is enough. I want to be present with my family, really present. I want to see and taste and smell them in the seconds that we share together. I want to experience ev...