I picked you up at a stationery store back in Connecticut before the move, and thought you were beautiful. I'm not really sure why it's taken me so long to run this pen across your pages, but you were so flawless. I was afraid, even in jotting down my own thoughts and ideas, to make a mistake and blemish your pretty pages. Who would think that my perfectionism would prevent me in doing something only meant for my own eyes, but maybe this will be a learning experience for me. My whole life has focused on helping everyone else sort out their thoughts and feelings, never my own. And so it begins...

Saturday, September 10th, 2011

A lot of changes have been happening in my life rather rapidly. Sometimes I forget what day of the week it is. The days all just seem to blur together, and I feel my youth slipping away. Since arriving in Hathian....I've had minimal social work opportunity leading me to hold several odd jobs, found who I thought was the love of my life -Nimbus-, took in a young college girl -Mya- who was struggling financially, adopted my 3 year old daughter -Lacie-, had brain surgery from an injury due to an accidental meth overdose, received a grant from the government as a relief effort to build what is now Hathian Children's Home, was abandoned by my boyfriend, moved into a new home after Mya got back on her own two feet, and have tried dating several times finally finding a man that seems to want to commit.

I stopped trying to control what happens in my life here in Hathian. This city is so unpredictable. There are gangs, homeless people, drug addicts, and criminals everywhere you turn. Sometimes even the police officers don't offer much security in this town. I try my best to just keep it together. I'm strong for the kids, but one woman bottling up so much fear and anxiety doesn't seem to be going so well for me. I get home after a long day at the Children's Home, shut the door behind me, and just sob.

My mind blocks it all out in time to fix dinner, and round and round we go. It seems to be a vicious cycle here. I find myself proud when I can hold it together for longer periods of time and not show any negative emotion. I feel sometimes like a soldier in this town. Fighting a battle. Alone.

Reminds me so much of a song I love.

"I've lost the use of my heart
But I'm still alive
Still looking for the life
The endless pool on the other side
It's a wild wild west
I'm doing my best

I'm at the borderline of my faith,
I'm at the hinterland of my devotion
In the frontline of this battle of mine
But I'm still alive

I'm a soldier of love.
Every day and night
I'm soldier of love
All the days of my life"

If nobody loves these children, these people... I will. They heal my soul as much as I try to heal their hearts. It isn't a one sided result in its healing ability.

They give me hope.
They remind me that all my work...all my efforts are not in vain.

Helping the ones who accept me into their lives...that is what keeps me strong here. That is what keeps the smile on my face when my inside has twinges of fear. It forces me to stand tall and not run away. That healing power is what brought me here in the first place.

I had no idea how hard this would be, but my life was easy before. How can I relate to these people without a struggle of my own. I had to work hard for everything I've been able to do here without the help of mom and dad, and I needed to do it myself to show these people that they can do it, too. My heart felt a calling ....saw a city that needed to be loved. I just hope the ones I've grown to really love and care for pay it forward. I pray every night that the Lord brings me my army. That He brings me those people who want to begin healing this city of lost souls.

It doesn't have to be this broken.

*She shuts the diary, placing it carefully in the bookshelf wedged between other books*