One Day At A Time


When someone is aching, hurting, crying, or smiling, we all want to be a part of this. It is our human nature to want to share, comfort, laugh and cry with our friends.

As most of you know, Friday was almost like the hell day of my year.

I am not usually the one who will reach out to anyone. Some of you are probably saying, no way! You always let us know your feelings, but this is new to me, an area that I had never ventured into my entire life.

While I was married to my ex who was so emotionally and sometimes physically abusive, the only one I ever confided in was my daughter. I had too much pride and didn’t want anyone to know that I could not FIX this problem. I have always looked at my self as a survivor and fixer person of life.

I could not fix my problems but I could fix others. I could not give myself a hug, but I could hug even a stranger if I saw sad eyes in on their face. I could put on the happy face if anyone came near, but as soon as they left my sight, the running tears were once again returning to their prior place.

Before I started this blog in March of this year, I had asked God so many times, what can I do with myself while I am sitting here caring for my brother? I did not get an answer for months, and then one day I was sitting talking to my best friend that lives a couple of hours away, and she suggested I write. I laughed it off, as I knew I was no near good enough to write, but she kept telling me, just write from your heart. This will let people see the real you.

Why don’t I talk to my children like this, from the heart? Maybe because I am the mother. Mommies don’t spill their guts to their children, we are the adults, and their lives are to filled with laughter and innocence, but now looking back, I wish I would have.

After having such a terrible day, my friend who lives near by came to visit. Before this visit happened, I had spilled my guts to all of you, which is becoming easier and easier. It has taught me that we all have issues going on each day, that mine are no different from yours, just different situations. It sort of made me feel like I fit in and was not such an odd ball.

Each of you gave and brought me comfort. Comfort in words,  prayers, phone calls. It is like I know each of you better than I even know myself.

When my friend came to visit, she brought me a kit she had ordered. It was a birthday gift for me. She and I spent the afternoon cutting wires, wrapping pearl pins with floral tapes, finding the correct way to force the natural turkey feathers to spread their fingers. After she left, I put the finishing touches of red on it and placed it on my bird bench.

Now each time I walk by it, I thank each of you and my dear friend, for holding me up, and showing me that you are a friend to me, and that God will never leave me, it would be me leaving God.

I wanted to show you the finished product. It is my first time at crafting, and I am not very good, but I am proud of what I accomplished and what it represents. It is to be the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, which stands straggly, and not too pretty, but it remains strong with all of its inner beauty for all to see. God is good. He provides the perfect answer each time. Now I have to conquer the next quest of whether and I should not even use this word, but when is the correct time to place Al.

I told him that we had to go to the grocery store. I was out of my two most important items on the food list, coffee and eggs. Thanks to some advice from you, I decided to do something I had not done before. Instead of treating Al like my sick brother, I used the tough love of raising a small child. I told him that if he caused me any grief at all, other than the Parkinson’s side effects, he was in big, big trouble as soon as we got home, and I hit the table with the fly swatter to show my words were gold. When he heard the smack between the table and swatter, he made no words at all during the grocery shopping.

I hated treating him more like a child instead of an adult male, but somewhere in there, the child in  him listened, and for today, it worked. Each of you tell me to take one day at a time, and so I did. I made it through today with the help of all of you, my friend near by, the emails, comments and phone calls. Tonight is better, and I will not look to tomorrow yet.

Thank you to all!

Reader Appreication Award


http://lamehousewife.wordpress.com

Lamehousewife nominated me for this very pretty award. I love the flower!

I always feel so special when I am nominated for an award, but today, I feel more than special, I feel needed and admired. This is a truly special day for me and I believe God chose today for me to acknowledge this.

The past couple of days have been heavy laden for me, and I am working through much pain thanks to all of you on here and a dear special friend I have near me.

For me it is very difficult to hear unkind words and accusations that are meant to hurt and are untrue. People are going to believe what they wish to believe, and there is no way for me to stop it, but I have learned these past two days, that God still has faith in me and he still loves me, and he also knows what I have been enduring these past few years, so to receive this today, just helps the healing process.

Thank you so much Lame!!!

There was no rules that I saw to tell about myself, so I am not going to waste your time as you know so much about me already.

For nominations I want to choose all who have stood by my side the past two days, but there is not enough room here on the page, so instead, I will choose a few.

settledinheaven.wordpress.com

Debbie
iftodaywehear.wordpress.com

pixilated2
pixilatedtoo.wordpress.com

Kadeen
deenakdrowaln.wordpress.com

brianwilliamsen
brianwilliamsen.wordpress.com

jmgoyder
jmgoyder.wordpress.com

lbtk
lbtk.wordpress.com

lily
onemoremorning.wordpress.com

thoughtsfromanamericanwoman
thoughtsfromanamericanwoman.wordpress.com

camsgranny
camsgranny.wordpress.com

 

I hope that everyone that I have nominated can understand how important it is to have such wonderful, caring friends. Others that I could not place on the list are forever in my heart, and stamped with a friendship that is held in respect and admiration. I love my blogging friends!!!!

Free Write Friday, August 4th, 2012


When I was a small child, my brother and I were taken from our mother and placed with our father, and his mother and father to live. We lived here for what it seems for about one year.

We lived in a two-story house, which is white and had a wrap-a-round porch on the front. It had very little yard space to play in, and an alley ran on the side of the house, so for children it was not a safe play area. I believe when my mind goes back in time, we must have been between three and four years of age.

The upstairs of the house was where the bedrooms were placed, and although, I do know I was the age of being out of a baby bed, I can still have visions of sleeping in the same room where my father slept, in some form of a baby bed or maybe it was a toddlers bed.

I can remember waking up in the mornings and my father holding my hand as we walked safely down the long flight of stairs. It is strange how we can remember bits of pieces of our young days, but even today, all the pieces are not connected. The puzzle looks put together, and the cardboard waiting for the missing puzzle pieces has turned brown from old age and sitting empty.

It was at this house that I remember much chaos. I can remember a lot of yelling and fighting. I can remember getting strange feelings that I was in the way. It seems like there was words of I am doing what I have to do, not because I want to, but you put me in a position of being a mother again, said by my grandmother.

My father worked the evening shift at the local bowling ally, and his parents cared for us while he was at work. We were not allowed to make sounds, and we could only play with one toy at a time, but very quietly. I can remember seeing my brother laying on the floor, and rolling some sort of car, maybe the size of a hot wheels, back and forth on the floor, never making a noise.

My brother and I never had any bonding when we were young. One reason was for the lack of using our voices. Another was my brother didn’t talk much. His vocabulary was very limited due to  lack of being  taught, or communicated with in any other way than was necessary.

My brother was kept captured in a high chair for a good part of each day, so he would not get in to anything, and I can remember tears and crying from him. I don’t know what I did with myself for most of my days, but I can see now where I am in my own life and Al’s life, that how we were treated as young children definitely helped mold us into what we are today.

I still cling to being accepted. I go over board to try to please others, even when I know I am being used. I hear my brother’s words when he is upset,  saying no one has ever cared about him.

This is not true, but the molding that was formed when very small remains in his mind today. Our stepmother did her best to raise us, and I am pretty sure she loved us in the best way she could. There was never bonding between mom and us kids, in the times that are most important, but there was a love.

I do remember when we lived in the white house by the alley, there was an elementary school that sat right across from our house, and if I was very good, or our father was sleeping  later than usual, or our grandparents felt they needed more quiet time, they would tell me to go to the school ground across the street and swing on the swings. They showed they cared somewhat, because they would always point to the yellow warning sign with the children on the front, this is where you play and this is where you stay. If I look out my front window, and I don’t see you, you will get a licking when we find you.

I would go over and sit on the swings and swing alone. My brother would not be allowed to go with me, because of his age, I think. Sometimes, a little girl about my age would come to the school grounds and swing with me. I am sure we chatted or laughed or maybe we swung in silence, I can’t remember.

One day many years later, when I was grown, or thought I was grown, I worked at a local restaurant burger joint. There was lots of teenagers who worked there. A quiet, taller than most girls, worked there also, and mainly worked my shifts in the evenings. Eventually, she and I became friends, and we got close enough that we even started to stay over at each others houses on the weekends. Remember those slumber parties? This is what we had. Sue, her name, introduced me to one of her friends, and so the three of us formed our little circle of friends.

One night on one of these over night stays, conversations drifted to when we were young. I have no idea of what was really transpired, probably silly things, like cute boys! I do remember one thing though, and will never forget it.

Sue talked about where she lived when she was little and how she used to go to the school-house near her home and she would swing with a little lonely girl. Her mother would see the young child sitting all by herself, and would ask Sue to go over and keep her company.

Sue and I discovered we were each the little girls that swung together when we were very small. She lived one block from the school. I find it amazing how God brought us together once again, after all these years. We were like lost sisters come together once again.

Now, even years later, she lives in a town near by, and I see her once in a while, and we always stop for a moment or two to hurriedly catch up with what is happening in our lives now.

So many times when I go by a school today, and I see the yellow sign warning children at play, I go back to my youth, and try to choose the memories of the little girl on the swing who sat with me, and turn my back on the sad memories of confusion of wondering whether I was wanted or not.

 

Thank you Kellie for offering me another chance to write for your writing exercise prompts!

http://kellieelmore.com