I am still staying tough! It is a good thing, because I was put to the test a while ago. I am not sure what was going on in the beginning, but when we got ready to leave, it was a nice feeling.
I took my brother and I out to dinner, since we hadn’t been anywhere too much. Al’s new medication is causing more sleepiness, so we are staying home a little more.
At the restaurant, everything seemed alright. It was very busy, and we ended up sitting right behind a huge birthday party celebration. Things were normal as we sat down, even with all the people so close, but as their young ones started finishing their own dinners, all hell broke loose at our table.
We were sitting very close to the ice machine, and of course it was a very busy station, with the heat of summer. I believe there was many droppings on the floor of shaved ice, but I didn’t get my nose to the floor and inspect it. Al is telling me there is something on the floor, and I look at it and see the shaved ice? I tell Al what I think it is, and he swears it is not ice. He says it looks like it did when he used to sort dirty mops at his long time job, so he knows what it is, or I should say they are, since there were many, many of these pieces.
Al says they are maggots. I tell him no, they could not be maggots, because we are in a restaurant, and also if they were, the workers would clean it up. He is adamant in his belief. Maggots, and his voice is getting a tad too high. I try my best to hush him up, by not arguing any longer with him, or trying to ignore his conversation at this point.
He takes his glasses off and stares hard at them, like he is gunning an armed man down. With squinted eyes, and an eye to object contact, he is still going on about these so-called creatures.
Finally, I get him to stop. Meanwhile between him and the big party to the back of him, the youngsters are running back and forth between Al’s chair and their own chairs. Al never quite gets set straight on any chair anymore. We are training now to back up to an object, feel it with the back of your knees, then sit, but we aren’t trained yet, so he is half on and half off, and one of his feet are sticking out a smidgen to the side. A youngster runs through and steps on Al’s foot.
Al starts crying big tears, jumbo size, and I know everyone in our section of the room could hear his words coming out about his poor toes. I sympathize with him, because his toes are so bent, from the Parkinson’s, that although it was a child, it had to hurt.
I have no doubt, that the party heard him, but they were too involved to sit the child down, and nothing was said. I gave the glare look, the look that says if you touch my brother again, you won’t be able to walk! They ignored me.
I turned my attention back to Al and tried to comfort him the best I could in this packed arena, but he was slowing much farther down, than he usually does, and trying to eat and cry and wipe your nose and tears, just don’t mix well.
A Christian turns the other cheek, but I have to admit, I was upset for Al, and I wanted to turn their cheek, but I remained strong. I asked Al if he was ready to go, although he still had food on his plate. With his mentality issues, he knows he doesn’t leave without his ice-cream for dessert. So even while crying and wiping, he wanted his ice-cream.
I thought quickly, and tapped my mind for an answer so that both of us could get up and leave this noisy joint. Bingo! I had it! I ask Al if we could stop by the store on the way home, and I would pick him up a whole gallon of his favorite ice-cream, and just leave this messy ice-cream here, and he nodded yes. Thank you Jesus!! We got up and left, and he cried all the way to the store. I parked, ran inside, and quickly moved to the frozen section, grabbed the loot, paid and was out. When he saw his goodies, he smiled, and we drove home. I still remained strong, and we both got out of that mess like the decent human beings that we are.
Today, I got my spirit back! I got a spirit that is tougher than ever, thanks to all of the people who have crossed my paths in my lives and have hurt me in some way.
I have always been the all too caring woman, thinking of others before myself, and this is a good quality, right? Not always, when you discover that you are the black carpet, instead of some shade of red.
I want to thank those people on here that keep telling me I am worth it, worth what exactly, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, I am worthy. I want to thank my long time friend, who drilled it in my head, that I am allowed to have opinions and thoughts, that I do not have to believe what others say about me.
I live my life the best I know how, and I take care of my brother the best that I can. I have learned today, that trying to earn someone’s love, or being afraid of someone turning their back on me, isn’t worth it.
I have learned also that I am smart, not too bad-looking for my age, lol, and I can do many things for myself. I have had to carry full responsibilities for the last five years, so I think I can figure out how to get things done if need be. I have moved several states away, and purchased homes, set up special doctors for Al, buy groceries, get the car maintainance done when required, be a nurse here at home, cook, clean house. Remember, when I had to have more people on the job to get the roof done? Well, it may have not been the most appropriate way to get it done, but I did it! My girlfriend always tells me I am a survivor, and deep down I am. I let other people’s remarks and ignoring me, tear me down, causing me to look to myself to see what I did wrong. It isn’t always me, sometimes it is others not getting their way.
Fear of being yourself, and not standing up for who you are, is not healthy, and I have found I am getting ill from letting this continue. I don’t know who really got my attention, but I would bet my bottom dollar that God and my friend and all of you who have written your encouragements are the ones responsible.
Don’t worry, I won’t get a big head or become ego minded, this is not me, but I am going to start shrugging off the crap, quit worrying why about everything and everyone, and just live my life. God wants me to be happy while serving him right? I need to be happy for my own well being, so I had to change. I will just work on being the person God placed on this earth.
Thank you everyone for not letting me sink!
This was me one day after I graduated high school. A cigarette and smoke being seen only by the elite club of smoker friends. The kids who wanted a better life, more popularity with the mature boys I knew.
My girlfriend had suggested to me that now that we were women, and could make our own decisions, we should take up this dignified habit, to show the world we were top class. There was no one to stop me from lighting up my first cigarette, sitting in my car, with her and our windows down, parked in the bowling alley parking lot, and knowing our parents would never see us here, as this was a place where they never adventured to enter.
I can look back and see us both holding our cancer sticks like pros, twirling it between our fingers, trying to hold the pose of the ladies on the television commercials. We coughed, and our faces probably turned colors between an unripe tomato and an over ripe one.
It didn’t matter if we choked our way through our first one or not, we were women, adults of the world, and able to make choices.
My first time I ever smoked, was the day after graduation from high school. I only had one or two the entire day. Although I was of legal age to smoke, in my mother’s eyes, there was no legal age. When I came home for supper that evening, the first thing my mom did, was dump my purse out on the counter, and out fell the red hard pack of Marlboro cigarettes. She immediately questioned me as to who these belonged to and I instantly told her that they were not mine, that I was holding them for a friend, because her mom would have a fit if she found out her daughter smoked.
Mom didn’t believe me at all, and why should she? The smell of cigarette smoke is rank. It comes out of your mouth as a wispy cloud, and aggressively attaches itself to anything within a few inches. Mom said I smelled like smoke, and once again, I tried fooling her stating I had been with my friend and she had been smoking. Mom says to me in no uncertain terms, smoking will kill you, give it up!
At that time there were no commercials nor media prompting that smoking was habit-forming. Any posters or ads you saw were sophistication, and this is what my mind had fooled me into believing.
Today, all these years later, I still see my mom and me standing in the kitchen, at the table, and her unloading my purse. Every once in a while, I think of mom and wish with all my heart that I would have listened to her. It has been several years since mom has died, and I still carry the guilt of knowing I am doing something she didn’t approve of.
What people don’t realize, is it really is a drug. It is hard to break this terrible habit. I pray about it almost nightly, and I tell myself how bad I stink from its oder, but I still smoke.
I go to sleep each night telling myself, that was my last smoke I was inhaling, and wake up each morning to light up once again. I have different excuses for myself that I use, such as I have to die from something, or I can’t give them up taking care of my brother, or I will quit when they cost a dollar.
My father smoked up until he had his heart attack, and because of the recovery time, and the fear of a too close of death experience, he never went back to smoking when he was released. He exchanged his smoking habit to a habit of chewing gum.
Is this what will happen to me also? Will I have a heart attack to quit? I don’t know, but when I face the down and dirty bare facts, and when I am all alone, I have to admit the truth, and that is, I am not ready to quit. I will have to be forced by some unknown power, that can beat me up and knock the nicotine out of my body.
I want to quit for so many reasons, but I don’t want to quit bad enough, or I would have done it now. I tell myself I would quit faster if there was someone who I had to liable to, but there is no one, and this is one time, that you telling me what about God, will not work, or at least so far it has not. I am strong, but the addiction is stronger, and God is even stronger than the addiction. I don’t know if I will quit on my own, or if God will have to once again show me by hard lessons. Time will tell.
Thanks and credits go to Ermilia for letting me write for her writing exercise.