when the words come

well, it's not 2am and it's not what i was supposed to be writing but it was what i needed to write. i'm just in ecstasy that i'm writing at all!

honestly, i have not been myself for a very long time. i know i'm not myself when i can't write. i have been writing poetry and stories since i was 16 years old and never in my life have i had such trouble for so long a time as i've had the last two years. i know bobpi thought it was him. i know he was sad that he couldn't inspire me to write. i'm so much more than overjoyed to announce that my inability to write had absolutely no connection to him. i was not myself.
when i am not myself i can't do any of the normal things that i love to do.

not only was i not myself, i was in the process of destroying a lot of what i had become. bobpi held me together in a way i didn't even realize until now...now that i've reconstructed myself. i threw away most of the trash. i have been in the process of a massive remodeling. seriously, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition has absolutely nothing on me. i demolished the shack of my heart, my mind, my life until i found the foundation. the foundation was strong and firm and immovable as it should be...but everything above it was infested with termites and other insects and vermin. the walls were cracked and peeling, the wood was splintered, and the windows were so dirty that no one could see in and i could not see out. the doors were all rusted shut.

dear bobpi dug a tunnel into my hiding place and then helped me to knock down the walls and start to rebuild. i don't know why i had to finish it on my own. i don't know why the new deed couldn't have had his name on it as well. only God and the future know the answer to that. but i'm patient, i can wait for understanding.
until then, bobpi has a key and he is welcome any time he wants to visit. i hope he does visit often so he can come to know the real me; he didn't know me before. but then, somehow i think he knows me, deep down in his soul friend heart, and that's why he's still around.

right now i sit on the front porch swing (figuratively, it's too cold to sit out there now at 1:30am) and wrap myself in gratitude for all the blessings in my life. my heart has been healed, my eyes have been opened so i can see more clearly than ever before. i am grateful that i have friends who stand by me and love me no matter how awful the anti-me was to them. i am grateful for the lessons i've learned. i am grateful that instead of killing me, they have made me stronger, and continue to do so.

i'm still in the process of rediscovering myself, but i'm starting to get a pretty good idea of who i want to be, and who i really am. i am a writer of poetry and long, rambling self-discovery prose. i am imaginative and enthusiastic. i'm perky (but not in an obnoxious way). i'm not really different from those around me but i do have some quirks (generally endearing until bobpi tells me otherwise ;-) haha). i am a friend to the friendless, a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. i am fun and will strive to be outgoing. i am kind and understanding. i am intelligent, loyal, determined and generally fantastic!

i am me: Laura Elizabeth Funk

p.s. i think i may have one idea as to why i had to finish things myself. once the house was destroyed and most of the rebuilding was done i had to go through the news house by myself and become acquainted with myself. this is a deeply personal and spiritual experience and can only be done alone. i can not share my house, my heart, my life, with someone else until I am completely settled into it. it's unwise to go into marriage if you do not know yourself first.