Sarah Lynn Jones
Bio
Sarah is a writer, blogger, storyteller, poet, dreamer, healer, mystic, artist, hopeful, and lover of life who is passionate about telling stories to help others seek healing and acceptance in their own lives and journeys.
Stories (5/0)
Wounded
I’d gone in the house quickly to change clothes so that I’d have long sleeves over my arms and jeans to cover my legs. I chose an old army cold-gear physical training shirt to help me remember a time I’d discovered I was more capable than I’d ever believed myself to be. I wasn’t brave enough to try to catch the winged raptor without extra fabric over my skin as a precaution. However wounded he might be, he still made it clear that he had a lot of fight left in him. When I first went out to the back fence, the 5 dogs had stood checking him out and yelling their aggravation at his audacity to stand so close to their yard. His ruffled feathers stated clearly his own displeasure of the situation and he kept his golden eyes fixed on the biggest dog nearest the gate. He would occasionally sneak a glance quickly to see if there were any threats coming closer from the other side in his distraction. As he moved further away from the dogs, he held his wings arching up toward the sky—unable to take off; and high-stepped a little bit at a time with his feathered pants flittering about in the autumn breeze.
By Sarah Lynn Jones3 years ago in Earth
Lifelines
I’ve always been a bit of a “jack of all trades” type. I like to get experience across a variety of arenas and take with me knowledge and insight I can gain in my brief time spent with them, but I generally don’t hone on any one activity extensively. I’ve had jobs such as: babysitting, washing school buses, a soldier in the Army National Guard; working in retail, at a daycare, at a doggy daycare, at a factory, as a delivery driver, putting ads in the Sunday paper before delivery. I have worked part-time with a couple different family friends with their handyman businesses, which introduced me to various aspects of home-improvement and building construction; and I worked on and off for the better part of a decade in mental health. My hobbies have been fairly widely spread as well. I’ve been into music, dance, dog training, landscaping, writing, doing puzzles, working out, scrapbooking, reading, collecting, and painting (both as an art hobby and home improvement method). I like activities that involve some planning but find I tend to get more fully consumed by a project when I just jump in with both feet, even if it means learning as I go. I am also most drawn to activities where my mind can stay preoccupied enough with a task that some concentration is required but not so much so that it can’t wander down other mental paths to piece other thoughts and stories together. Massive bonus points if I can listen to music as I do it. When I couldn’t have my phone or mp3 player out on the floor of the factory, I would listen to music while I was on my breaks, and I would end up repeating the same song over and over sometimes so that I had more of it to sing to myself while I was busy stacking boxes in a truck or whatever else the day’s role required of me.
By Sarah Lynn Jones3 years ago in Humans
Remember to Breathe
My life has been a journey of healing with many, MANY broken chapters before finally stepping into a path that I can be fully in love with; although admittedly, I am still working on discerning what that path is. I developed the sense early on in life that I was not meant to be here—that life mistakenly spit me out in an existence that I didn’t belong in and I had an overwhelming sense of the walls closing in all around me, trying to snuff me out in some cruel cosmic game. I was terrified at the idea of not being here anymore, but I desperately believed the world would be better off without me. My introvertedness came more from a fear of stepping out of line and drawing the arrows of hate and disgust of others who were clearly, in some way, inconvenienced by my existence. I’ve found later in life that I’ve had this ongoing tendency to hold my breath or start breathing extremely shallowly in unknown situations as though I was trying to make the least amount of physical moves necessary to get through without drawing attention to myself. Still, I would dream of a world where I DID belong. I used to pray, first, that I would go away and fade out of the existence I was sure I wasn’t right for so that the overwhelming loathing of the world would no longer grip me in Every. Single. Thing. That I did. I am one, like so many before me and around me currently, who has spent hours upon hours upon hours wrapped up in soul-crushing suicidal ideation and a desperate need to appease the world through alleviating it of my existence. I spent so much time believing that the world would somehow be better off without me in it. Thus the short breaths to attempt to do as little damage to the existence I was forced to appear in—kind of like how some say that if you were to go back in time, even the flapping of a butterfly’s wings would change the course of events to come—I was trying not to make more of a mess than my existence already had forced me to make.
By Sarah Lynn Jones3 years ago in Psyche
