© Michelle Routhieaux 2015
My soul is filled with the joy of the Lord. JESUS!
(deep breath) I am happy.
I am happy.
Last night I sang a solo at my choir concert. I am so proud! I was so nervous. I started learning it around 3pm. 2 hours in the car with Whitney Houston, 20 minutes with a karaoke track from iTunes and a lot of prayer. The devil fought me telling me I couldn’t do it, that I was worthless and needed to die. Not today, sir. Get out of my house. JESUS!
My head hurts so bad.
There were only 16 people in the audience – all family of the choir and a few church members. None of my friends showed up. I was so thankful to have my mom.
I read from Proverbs and prayed that God would sing through me and to me, that He would give me the courage to open my mouth and use me as a vessel for His word, keeping my focus only on Him. This song is a vocal dance for Jesus. JESUS!
My whole body trembled. An hour or so before, I hit a wall – weak, dizzy, close to tears, barely able to eat. I sat down a few times during the concert but decided not to take my PRN for my heart that I sometimes do during concerts. I didn’t want to interfere with the Spirit. My head and mouth hurt all day. I had decompensated to confusion, yelling at cars, then not moving. But I did it. Just for God. No practice with the choir. A lick and a prayer. All for God. Only for God.
The look on Ken’s face as I sang was priceless. He exchanged looks with Janet. I smiled genuinely. He didn’t know I could do that. Neither did I. :) I got so many compliments after, the best in an email from another choir member. He said:
I listened to the recording of the concert tonight on the way home and I am almost speechless regarding your rendition of “I Love the Lord.” I couldn’t really hear it when we did it, or I would have said something afterwards. I am just floored by the range, the intensity, and the emotion that you put into that solo. Wow. Just magnificent. Thanks for making tonight one of the best nights I have ever spent performing music. Those 16 people in the audience were definitely in the right place at the right time.”
I watched the video when I got home. It is the first time I’ve been proud of my work, didn’t hate the sound of my voice. I felt free.
Today I am still proud. My head and mouth hurt a lot. I feel nauseous. I’m eating kettle corn on the couch. Not the best idea after serious mouth surgery but I’m afraid to make oatmeal. I feel overwhelmed. I’m trying to settle, breathe. My doctor and therapist are both out of town so it’s me and God. He’s got this. (wink)
Thanks for listening.
May you be blessed.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2014
I feel excited to be alive.
I prayed earlier to feel the Holy Spirit in me and to be filled with healing. Around 5:30pm something changed. Every cell tingles, sparkles with the love of God. I feel excited to be alive. Not just alive, which I rarely feel. I feel happy and connected and free.
I could float up in the sky…
I feel happy. I feel free.
I don’t feel manic or depressed or paranoid. My head does hurt. I sing. I want to be alive. I want God to work through me for His good. I want to be.
I’ve believed in God all my life, but today I feel God. I don’t ever want it to go away. I raise my hands and twirl and sing and pray. I’m so thankful. And to think it started with a healing card. ;)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
Did anyone tell you what happiness is? That you had a right to feel it? I’m pretty sure the knowledge/awareness of “happy” and the expectation that I should or should be able to feel it are fucking me up.
Have people always expected to feel happy? What if feeling awful is the default? If I was okay with feeling awful my life would be much better. Is this an American thing? I do NOT feel happy.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
What is happy? What does it mean? What does it look like? I ask myself today.
I’m sitting in Domino’s waiting for a pizza. I don’t even want a pizza today, but Mom does. So we’re here.
Someone asked me at a party recently, after several hours of conversation, “Have you ever been happy?” I paused. “What exactly do you mean?” I asked. He just stared at me. How long does it have to last to count? And what if it goes away? And what kind of question is that anyway? (An awesome one.)
Have I ever been happy?
I remember moments of happy. I know what happy feels like. Largely in part to the two blog posts What does happy feel like? and What makes me smile automatically? I know when I feel happy. I don’t feel it often now.
Which got me thinking. I write a blog called Writing Towards Happy, but I’m not happy and it’s hard to remember what it is. Doesn’t that make me a hypocrite? I sat and thought for awhile and recalled having this discussion before with myself.
The goal is to get to happy, Michelle. You don’t have to be happy now.
Gosh, that’s a relief.
I need to go back and read some of the stuff I posted last year. I think it may unlock some secrets and push me further along. I need to unlock some secrets. They must stop eating me.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2011
8-29-10 12ish pm
I feel happy, warm inside. Just saw K- in the bathroom. She said, “Keep your head up.” I do. I told her I feel more happy now that I’m sicker than when I was less sick. It’s weird, but nice. Last night was wonderful and then difficult, but today is good again. And I am so grateful for this moment.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
Mom is throwing a no-one-cares-about-me fit. (sigh) I hate these nights. There is so much guilt and tension. She’s stressed. I get it. No control. Life caving in. But it’s not my fault that she doesn’t talk to anyone. And I don’t appreciate her putting me down when she’s upset.
There is nothing right I could do tonight. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m not in an understanding mood. I’m NOT her friend. She drove me around today, which I’m grateful for, but now she’s mad at me for never finishing projects. I counted all the change in her piggy bank tonight and she told me to put it back in. What? And she’s constantly fighting with the cat. I know she’s into everything but it’s NOT IMPORTANT. Zoe being on the counter is not worth getting upset about. She’s not gonna learn if you’re never not mad at her. If everything is wrong, nothing is.
Zoe was stuck balancing on the door tonight and I told Mom to sit down, that scaring her wouldn’t do any good. She was so angry. She sat down at the computer and said nobody cares about her. (I have a headache now.) Then she stormed off into her room mumbling to herself.
This week she’s mad at me for not being stable, not being able to make decisions, not understanding what she says. I can’t answer your question if I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I can’t twitch my nose and be magically symptom-free. I can’t make money appear out of nowhere or make Zoe a calm kitten.
Today was pretty good. I saw Jim and ran errands, went to the Jazz 88 happy hour, and then to see Janice Edwards who sang “Come In From the Rain” for me. And I decided that some time in the future I want to have a baby. Even if it is selfish… And I brainstormed a new project that might actually be successful.
I may not be able to finish a sorting project. I may rock randomly and be confused easily, but I’m living my life. I’m making it. I’m doing what I need to do to get by and to be happy. I can’t make her happy.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
Not being able to regulate my body temperature is driving me insane. Like tonight my body is very hot and I can’t stand anything touching me. Not even my bracelet or hair clip. Yet I have goosebumps and feel cold. And hot. The other day when I walked a mile I was exhausted. It was too much for me. I should have been hot. I couldn’t breathe but I was freezing to the touch. My coldness astounded me. And sometimes parts of me are cold while others are hot, for no apparent reason. I get fever blisters from my lips being so hot. My hypothalamus hates me.
The hypothalamus doesn’t just affect temperature though. It also controls hunger, thirst, memory, blood pressure, pupil dilation, circadian rhythms, heart rate, bladder contraction, sweating, hormones. It’s the Grand Central Station of the brain. The fact that mine hates me could explain my cravings, funky heart rate, weird memory, odd pupils, vampire hours and a bunch of other things.
I’m going to name my hypothalamus Happy. Happy the Hyper/Hypo Hypothalamus. He’s bipolar. I love him anyway. But I wish he would settle down. So fickle.
I wish I had a name for this. Happy doesn’t always make me so happy.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010