There are those times when I’d like someone to know what is going on in my life, the struggle, the trial and yes the heartache, but saying it out loud makes it more of a reality. Life is certainly interesting. Just like that, someone can come back into my life only to begin the process of saying goodbye.
My heart has been heavy as I instinctively know where this part of my journey is leading. I begin to set things up and organize an end of life care plan and I wonder, have I been being prepared for this moment all along?
All I’ve ever wanted was time with you, to know you more, better and completely, but that wish never came to fruition. It’s as though I’ve been grieving and mourning the loss of you repeatedly for my entire life so far and then…
Easter Sunday comes and a stranger reached out to me through FB messenger. She informed me of the situation. Her mom, also essentially a stranger, had gone into the hospital and from there this conversation went on for 1 1/2 hours. I knew what I had to do and the next morning I began making calls, calling on all my resources, experience and knowledge from my in home care business to make a care plan and 3 days later I found myself in my car headed up north to visit the man I call Daddy. When I arrived, the situation was a little worse than I expected as I jumped into work mode to begin the process of a care plan.
In those first 8 hours I learned more than I ever knew and I will treasure them for the remainder of my life. My Daddy and I spent the day talking just the 2 of us, crying and sharing our hearts. Somehow I knew this was the moment I’d longed for since I was a little girl and in one sentence he was able to mend my deepest wound I’ve attempted to fill and repair on my own and with The Lord. I had always thought it had been irreparable after all this time until he told me of the day I was born. He spoke as if it were yesterday, how blessed he had felt. When he shared with me “the second they put you in my arms honey, I just knew you were my special, precious, baby girl and I loved you”. The feeling that washed over me was, “WANTED”.
A lifetime of this emptiness and struggle resolved with his simple declaration spoken from his heart to mine. God’s Mercy and Grace brought restoration I never knew I could have. Memories are few and very far between, but those that I do hold, I praise God for this ultimate gift today that I will cherish for eternity.
Now we walk through these days in preparation for our Daddy to go home to be with The Lord for only He knows the plan for the end that will be his new beginning for his restoration as he crosses the finish line to victory. Amen🙏🏻💫🙌🏼💖
Has someone ever made you feel completely worthless? Do you know they project their own unworthiness upon you? They will tear you completely down in order to build themselves up. That’s the empowerment they need to feel. Well, just to feel something, anything.
As a person with elevated super traits of agreeableness, tolerance, compassion, trusting, empathy and the list goes on, we become a target, the prey that these predators long for, need and seek out to find, possess and eventually… destroy for their sick pleasure of watching you suffer. They glorify in the fear they inflict and revel in your pain.
This is sadism at its sickest.
The only way to overcome the affects of this torturous lifestyle you’ve been a victim of, is to educate yourself so you can become smarter than they are sick. During the early stages of your healing recovery process you will begin to see all the ways in which you were misused and abused. It isn’t your fault. Because of your elevated loving super traits, you want to believe that others in this world are as you are, but sadly, those ones are not and never can be.
When you can finally come to terms with, it isn’t that they won’t change who they are, it is that they can’t, you will begin to breathe again. Personalities are hardwired and these predators are exactly that, animals. They have but one mission, to fuel their every need with the supply you provide.
Sitting with my 10 1/2 year old granddaughter as she’s doing 5th grade history homework, she reads passages to me and abruptly stops to declare, “that’s not right Grammy!” Clearly she’s upset, knowing her as well as I do, she expresses her opinion about the paragraph she just read. “They’re not Indians, that’s not okay to say. I’m not writing that for my answer.” My heart, warmed by her compassion and directness, I explained first that “history” is what we’re being told because we didn’t live back then. She balked at that, but then I commended her for being appalled and asked her what her preference is to fill in the blank on her paper. She said she would just write Americans. Then I handed her the missing tool and suggested she add Native to her answer. She smiled, agreed and wrote her new choice.
While I try to be cognitive of teachable moments and what I often find is I’m not always the teacher, regardless of someone’s age. We talked a little more about this. I praised her for standing on her convictions, beliefs and using her voice. I thought to myself how oppression has been the downfall of my life, hence the internal struggle. I can only imagine the horrific stories from history and particular heritages, what they encountered and endured.
The topic of evolving took place with her next. We aren’t where we once were, but we aren’t yet where (I hope) we are going either. That’s being a difference maker, I explained. Not just standing by, quietly accepting the unacceptable or tolerating intolerance. Tell me more about your heart, I asked her. Never dismiss or fear the true words, thoughts and feelings of a child (or adult) because given a safe space, they will always honor their truth.
Is it merely human nature or even the human condition that we make up stories in our own minds, judging others for why they are in the spot they are in in life? It happens all the time, the assumption of another’s choices and blaming them for why they are in this or that predicament when the reality is, we can’t possibly know their story without asking them. We simply don’t know what we don’t know. (wisdom from my wise 87 year old friend)
Taking a moment to understand someone else as I listen to their thought provoking perspective makes me smile in gratitude. Being right is far less important to me than loving someone where they are. That being said, I leave you with this mantra; I’ll be quiet (not silent), you can be right and I’ll be happy. There is no price tag on civility and Serenity, but there sure as shootin’ is a cost for close mindedness.
If God (insert your personal Source here) meant for us to pray and believe only one way, why did He create so much diversity? Love is love for humankind. Be the change you want to see. Fear less by being fearless. I’m proud of my (almost 5) grand-youngsters and what their parents (my kids) are teaching them about equality and human rights. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.
“You don’t know what you don’t know.” One of the wisest lessons I’d ever learned.
Bill was 86 years old when I first met him last March. The week of his 87th birthday he was placed in an acute assisted living facility. He had terminal brain cancer and it had spread down to his neck. For 3 months we went to visit him on Mondays like clockwork. During the last 6 weeks of his life he was in and out of what we knew as his reality, but he seemed almost peaceful when he spoke often times those nonsensical words.
He sat in his wheelchair, weak of energy, yet that sheepish grin of his emerged out of nowhere. His eyes still had life in them, but he would seemingly look right through me as he spoke. It was obvious to me that he was living in this realm, but crossing over simultaneously. Most days he was talking to his mama who had left this earth sometime ago. The conversations were real to him and heartwarming to witness.
Bill had lived the last nearly 40 years as a sober man. He was committed to making amends even in his final days. His devotion to The Lord was obvious when he shared stories with me now and then. He was a straight shooter and as honest as a man could be. Up until he took his last breath, he still had plenty to say.
When his pastor came to see him one last time, Bill asked once more if he believed that God was going to let him into his kingdom. With complete assurance the pastor told him without a doubt and with all certainty He was. He has been missed since that final day. I’m grateful he’s no longer hurting and has found peace and contentment in his own heart, but selfishly we all wish he had more time.
I will never forget the unspoken words that he conveyed to me with just his gentle smile and a shake of his head every time he asked me something about my life. He was a lovable, kindhearted man with such conviction that he stood proudly on. I thank God for the moments I was blessed to have those conversations with you sir.
Rest easy my friend. My promise holds that I will help your lovely bride for as long as she needs me.
Reflection over my life so far, I’ve learned to run after a positive mindset. Greatly wanting to live this way, but always battling with it. I can give kudos and be outwardly uplifting with an abundance of encouragement, for you. This is who I am. This is what I do. But what about me? Where is that self care and love component to gift myself?
They tell me self forgiveness and acceptance is how I will achieve this. Then I go down the rabbit hole where the misery lives. It’s dark and damp, with cobwebs and it kind of smells like death. I don’t purposely fall down in there. I do allow others to trample my heart and that’s when I find myself climbing out yet again.
So far spending time getting reacquainted with me has been both enlightening and disappointing at the same time. Regret is not a common word in my vocabulary. I’ve enough emotional recovery and healing to understand the positive influence every experience has had on my spirit. Then I tend to combat it with a negative connotation because this is how I have been conditioned. Trained out of deserving peace and comfort, even joy. At least on a more often than not basis. That can be debilitating and quite depressing.
I’ve come to dislike those positive memes. Don’t send me the rainbows and unicorns with puppies and kitties telling me to have a bright sun shiny day. Those don’t resonate with me. I need to know that I’ve walked through some hard fucking shit and I am a survivor. In other words, remind me how far I’ve come and that I am ok!
I know this too shall pass and all the other quirky slogans I’ve learned and implemented into my everyday living, but most days I simply need to just be authentically me. A craft I have yet to perfect and likely never will, but my ultimate goal… to be comfortable in my own damn skin. Finding that balance between my own satisfaction and happiness while participating in this event called life. Is it always going to be a chore or will I wake up one day and everything will magically just smooth out? I highly doubt that and I am curious to know the antidote. Meanwhile I will just keep on keeping on, loving you with my whole heart as I work to gift this to myself.
She was tenacious when it came to believing what she thought she needed, and that was him. Far beyond their expiration date and her tolerance of his neglect and torment she clung. White knuckling the life she fantasized, the tighter her grip, the more relentless he became. The addiction cycle prevailed as the destruction and demise ensued.
Breathing had transformed into a chore, labored and choking. His twisted beliefs ravaged her every thought, move and decisions that were no longer hers to make. He had devoured her and she was consumed. Her immediate response to his touch, his words and especially his body language, was to never disappoint him while completely betraying herself.
She had found herself tethered to this neurotic, sadistic human, whom she would discover was really an empty, wounded, broken shell. His pain inside ignored heightened his desire to inflict it upon her. Emotionally, physically and especially psychologically as he pulled her cuffs tighter, his noose around her neck cinched as she gulped. She was his kept property.
How could she break free of the restraints and stay by his side? She could only dream, and that’s all she ever did. Her body was not her own. She had long since detached from it. How else could she endure this life she found herself in?
He was good at this game. Distracting her from her own mind. Convoluting his words while mincing them with his actions. Was she crazy? Could he be right? Did she not hear what he truly meant? Her brain on fire as she worked to read between the transcripts of their one sided conversations. He’s a bully, she thought to herself. More than the mean kid on the playground. Is that where it started with him? She wondered.
She struggled daily to analyze the two of them. Her heart longed for what it could never receive. Her brain constantly reconciling with what was happening. Maybe he’s right. She is the broken little girl inside after all. She must be the one who needs fixing so she will continue to abide by his every rule and expectation of her. Keep working for his love, attention and affection is what she told herself.
This ball of yarn, tattered and worn, had become her sacred space to cling to now. Somewhere, deeply within it, was holding her hope. How will she find it and retrace her way back? She knows she has battle scars and wounds running deep. She didn’t come out of this unscathed, but going from victim to survivor has been her only goal these days. She’ll keep talking and writing until that skein is down to its last bit of what has her bound still. Until then, she’ll do what it takes to unravel the mass of devastation. His secretive ways being revealed, unveiling them for her sanity, saving her soul.