How to commit suicide…

One day the wife a friend of mine called to tell me that she was on the way to the hospital because my friend had collapsed at work.   

Earlier that day just before leaving for work he poured a bowl of cereal and went to the refrigerator for milk there was none.  He decides well it’s not that serious I’ll just add water.  He takes a couple of bites and sits the bowl on the counter.  After running back upstairs to grab his tie and briefcase he charges out the door.  He’s halfway out of the driveway before he realizes that he’d forgotten his cereal.  He pulls back into the garage, runs inside and grabs hs cup only to discover that a family of ants had beaten him to it.  “Argh!!!” he exclaims.  He slams the ingredients from the cup into the garbage disposal and flips the switch… it doesn’t work.  “Oh my god!!!”

He immediately calls his wife to ask whether she knew of this mechanical failure and she replies, “Yes.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me about it?!” he yells.

“I didn’t think it was that serious, I was going to tell you today.”

“You didn’t think it was that serious?!  See, that’s what I’m talking about, you never take anything ‘that’ seriously.  You should have told me last night, I would’ve had someone out here to fix it!

“Look, what is your problem?  You never call me at work and when you do, this is what you call about?  I’m at work, I don’t have time for this. Bye! -click

This of course sends him into a complete tizzy.  He jumps back into the car and heads off to work fuming.  Traffic is horrible and the cereal episode only made arriving to work on time even more difficult. Once there he receives a phone call explaining that his mother had been diagnosed with cancer and they needed him to come down to see her.   Well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  All of this was too much to handle and his mind/body broke down.  After receiving various sedatives and being monitored for a few hours he was released and told to take it easy for a few days and he’s now doing a lot better.  (true story.)

Now, my purpose for calling this one how to commit suicide is to bring attention to how we get to that point in the first place.  The trojan horse called stress is to blame in this case but the funny thing is, it only has as much power as YOU give to it.  Whether voluntary or involuntarily, your body will find a way to escape too much stress.  People that go through with the thought of committing this self-destruction typically do so because the ‘stress’ of life becomes too much to bear.  It’s actually more common than you think for people to have such thoughts but luckily not everyone continues down that path.

If you think about it, that’s what we spend the majority of our time doing…trying to avoid stress.  That’s what our heavens or after life promises are…no dying – stress, no sickness – stress, no disagreements – stress, and so on.  It even says on the tomb stones… rest in peace.

Well I’d like to ‘suggest’ to you that you don’t have to wait until death to experience peace.  If you’d like to have less stress in your life…wait for it….let it go!  Yeah, it’s that simple.  Stress is an unwelcome visitor in your home (body)…kick him out! (ha)  Seriously though, you only have what you’re holding on to…aren’t there more pleasant things in life that to hold than self-destruction?

Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Post shared by Dehypnotize 

A Brutally Honest Letter to God

A young lady I have a blogging friendship with posted this and I found it so touching and felt so many may be able to relate in one way or another that I had to share. All of her post are so honestly revealing so if you get a chance check out her blog but for now I share this post:

My Brutally Honest Open Letter to God

written by Paramourinwaiting

Dear God,

I don’t know how to address you, especially after all this time. I can’t imagine you this bearded old man (or woman) in the sky. I can’t imagine you perched in pages of someone’s testament. I can’t imagine you in a deep and unfamiliar voice that boldly sprouts from nowhere. So I write to you instead. My mother used to write you. She never knew this but as a child, I used to read her letters to you in her Bible. I know that was a violation of privacy but I’ve always been in love with words penned on pages. They tend to be more candid—or at least in our case. Her letters were uplifting and full of wonder; other broke my heart. Her faith quivered but I could tell that it was still there. I probably also thought that I could understand you more through her.

My parents always spoke of religion and you interchangeably but I could never fully embrace it. There seemed to be so many holes in religion and I feared coming off as the spawn of the devil if I dared to ask. A part of resented them for making me believe in notions that I did not seem to cling to. They seem so stifling and I imagined you as free and uninhibited as my thoughts. I’ve seen you in contagious laughs and spellbinding smiles of children, in kind eyes, in good thoughts and deeds, in poetry, in music, in art, in tears, in happiness, in every “I love you”, in every changing season—somewhere in the stillness swirling furiously and touching everything and everyone that crossed your path.

I guess you’ve noticed that we haven’t talked much in a while. I think I brushed off nearly all of your presence after you did not come when I needed you the most—as I was being raped. I began to see you differently. But I did talk to you sporadically—mostly as a promiscuous teen begging not to become pregnant. I promised that I would change my ways if you just granted this one prayer. That one prayer morphed into several more. It was our recurring storyline. I eventually realized that perhaps this wasn’t the type of prayer that you really wanted to hear. I mainly saw you as the modern day Plan B pill. I did not take you seriously. I saw you as a convenience and wondered if I somehow became a nuisance—an ungrateful child tugging on you.

When my sanity fluctuated, I asked you why I was born. I never hesitated to let you know how much I hated fragments of myself and life. After a couple of half-hearted suicide attempts as a teen, I contemplated a nonexistence throughout my entire adulthood. My guilt, self-destructive behaviors, and the lack of courage were the driving forces that kept me here (or so I thought). I wanted to prove to you that you weren’t as awesome as others pegged you out to be. I decided to disregard you. I rarely thanked you. I infrequently acknowledged you. I silently mocked those who were delirious in their love for you. You were that elephant in the room that I made sure I always tiptoed around in the dark to avoid. They say elephants never forget; neither did I no matter how hard I tried.

I was humiliated. I knew if I faced you, I would reek of disappointment. Disappointment would ooze from my pores and flood my entire being. I could picture the literal disgust on your figurative face. I could imagine you holding your nose and avoiding all eye contact. I had to spare myself from further embarrassment. I’m so filthy and can’t possibly see myself in you. Sure, I have some noble qualities but not too much of me is pure—especially my intentions. I am always faltering. I can’t even trust myself sometimes. You’ve tried to reach me through others. I’ve watched their lips move but wasn’t open to the vessel of truths that cascaded from them. You felt inaccessible to me. It’s like you’re in the VIP section and I’m on the outside watching you fulfill others because I was not properly dressed to grace your presence. It’s like you’re flying first class and I achingly peer through the curtains to see others licking their lips from the champagne of your being. I feel as though I cannot afford you. I feel spiritually bankrupted. I feel snubbed. Maybe I’m the one who has been snubbing you this entire time and for that I am sorry.

I am finding my way back to you. I’ve been away for far too long. Please forgive me for resenting you all these years. Please help me to forgive myself. Help me heal so I can forgive others. Help my find purpose. Help me to love myself. Help me to live my life without fear because I feel so consumed by it. Help me see the splendor of life. Save me from my destructive behaviors and thoughts. Lift me up because I’m tired of falling apart at the seams. I’m tired of doing this without you. I’ve treated you and myself with reckless abandon. I need help to make it up to the both of us. Thank you for the things that you’ve already done for me that I have so blatantly ignored. I will be more appreciative and receptive towards you.

With Love,

Nisha

 

Painting The World With Ugliness…

Have you ever asked yourself  what are you doing to make the world better, to increase even one person’s happiness, to help one homeless person?

Most of us never even think about this fact, we walk around consumed in our own thoughts and lives so much so that we never see the terrible environment all around us. We see people being killed, being bullied, being lonely all because we don’t feel it’s worth our time to lend a hand, or even to look and open our eyes to the hurt and pain all around us.

We live in a world of no sense of society, no sense of responsibility, no sense of helping each other, people commit suicide simply because they are lonely and have no one to turn to.

Instead of painting the world with ugliness each and every single second, why dont we all try. If you have the chance to change someone’s life, why dont you take it?

Why dont we start painting the world with love, hope and  a rainbow of happiness??

 

Post courtesy of The World We Live In

Teacher punishes student for responding “God bless you” to a friend’s sneeze

 

Forgiveness in Stone

Two friends were walking through the desert, during some point of the journey, they had an argument; and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

 

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand.  Today my best friend slapped me in the face.

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath.  The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but was saved by the friend.

After recovering from the near drowning, the friend wrote on a stone:   “Today my best friend saved my life.”

 

The friend who had slapped and saved the best friend asked, “After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?  

 

The friend replied ‘when someone hurt you we should write it down in sand, where winds of forgiveness can erase it away’.  But when someone does something good for you, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it.  

Learn to write your hurts in the sand, and to carve your blessings in stone.

7 Best Pieces of Advice for People Who Want to Move Past a Rotten Childhood

Author Tracy McMillan knows a thing or two about getting over a bad childhood. Her father was a drug-dealing pimp and convicted felon who spent most of his daughter's life behind bars. Her prostitute mother gave her away. Here's what she wants you to know about getting over your past.

1. Get a New Story
There are two ways for me to look at my childhood story. In one, I'm a person who is so unloved and unwanted, my own mother gave me away. In the other, I was born, took a look around at my prostitute mother and criminal father, and said to myself, "I can totally do better than this. Get your stuff, we're leaving." In one I'm a victim, in the other, I'm in power. Guess which viewpoint got me the career I have today?

2. Realize Blame = Same
Blame is awesome. It feels good, right? It feels righteous. It feels powerful. It feels like someone's going to pay for what they did to you. The only problem is—as long as you're blaming—nothing can ever change. Why? Because in order for your life to change, you have to want things to be different. And if it feels good to blame, you have to admit that you like it. And if you like it, you have to admit that you don't really want it to change. Which is why blame just gets you more of the same.

3. Pretend You Work at Target
Sometimes, I look at my bad childhood like it's an unruly customer and I'm working customer service the day after Christmas. It'll be acting up, moaning and complaining about how hard everything is, and how unfair it all is. I just have to say to it, "Yes, I see you, ma'am. I know you have a problem. But right now I'm busy, so please have a seat. I''ll be with you just as soon as I can." Then I do something productive that will actually change my situation, like go to work.

4. Accept the Fact That Some People Don't Really Want to See You Succeed
This sounds harsh, and it is. But it's true. Some of your family and friends "support" you by cosigning all your b.s. about how hard you have it, because if you succeed, two things will happen: 1) You will leave. And 2) They will be left behind. This doesn't mean you have to get rid of your friends and family, you just have to remember that they love you so much, they're perfectly happy for you to stay exactly where you are right now.

5. Decide to KSA (Kick Some Ass)
When my 13-year-old said he hated science class, I told him that getting a 95 on the test was the equivalent of getting in the face of his least favorite teacher and saying, "Have some!" In other words, kicking ass on the test is just like playing a video game. Needless to say, he's getting A's now. Channeling your anger will get you a long, long way in life.

6. Hoard Your Money
The number one way to end your bad childhood is to save money. I have a very simple rule about money: If I never spend everything I make, I will always have money. And money is power. All those commercials you see are a big, rich company's attempt to get you to give them your power. Don't do it! Think of every dollar you save as one step away from the people and places that have kept you down.

7. Get a Paper Route
In fifth grade, I wanted a 10-speed bike like all the other kids had. So I started delivering papers when I was 11. In Minnesota. In the winter. Compared to that, every job I've had since has been easy. While there may not be papers to deliver in the snow, the point is to do the thing you don't want to do. Get a hard/crappy job and do it until the voices in your head stop telling you that you can't take it another minute. Everything after that will be cake, and your bad childhood will be over. I promise.

Tracy McMillan is a film and television writer, most recently on AMC's Emmy Award- and Golden Globe-winning series Mad Men and Showtime's Emmy Award-winning series The United States of Tara. Her memoir, I Love You and I'm Leaving You Anyway (HarperCollins 2011), is a comic, tragic, unflinchingly real, and ultimately victorious true story of how one woman learned to love herself no matter what.

Overcome That Problem You Face

Yes, we do face difficulties in life, but they only give us an opportunity to trust the Lord and overcome. Without problems we would have nothing to overcome, and thus not be able to receive all the blessings promised to those who do overcome.

There are seven promises given to overcomers in the second and third chapters of Revelation. Here is the last one:

REVELATION 3:21 NIV
21 To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.

As you face the problems of life, keep your eyes on your destination, just as Jesus did. Walk close to God and depend on Him. He will not fail you.

I JOHN 4:4 NIV
4 You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

SAY THIS: I am an overcomer in Christ Jesus. The Lord is my Helper. The One Who is in me is greater than any problem.

Devotions in book form: http://CFApublications.com