English: Replica of a Viking Dagger by Sid Birt (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is one time I am surely using this posting, blogging thing to try to force myself to stand up. I am crying even as I write, and the events of yesterday are still clinging to me like a wet bathing suit. I have no idea what I am going to place on here for words, I just know that my heart is in my big toe, and I feel like the heart that holds everything in my life as value has been ripped out, stomped on, and shredded into a million pieces.
Surely with the help of getting out what I can for the public eye to read will in long-term help me. Yesterday was bad, terrible, just awful. The law was involved twice for bad behaviors from Al. Humiliation, embarrassment, also showed its presence and although I never asked for nor invited it, it has stuck my side all these hours.
Al acted up, acted out, showing the bad side of him. We all have bad sides, right? We may not talk about them here for all to see, but deep inside, we each have a tiny bit of us that is bad. We are sinners, according to God, so we have to have a bit of bad. We don’t let others see this if we can help it, but then there are times that some do not care who is standing by, nor do we care if others are listening.
Words were thrown like daggers, all coming straight for my heart, some actually penetrating me and causing so much pain, I felt my emotional part fall out of me and hit the ground. I have yet to find it, for I believe it is hiding from me, sitting in the background laughing at me.
When you love God and you try to be that good person who your parents would be proud of, and your community, family, and friends would be proud of, you are tested. I often ponder on how many times do I have to prove myself to God that I still love him. I asked God last night what is it that you are trying to teach me, in order for these testings to leave. By the time I closed my eyes, I had outwardly stated, the hell with God, I can not take this any longer.
I wanted to pack my feelings and get in my car and run. I could not do this, the responsible side of me and the love of my brother and my children, kept me attached to my bed the entire night, and it was very hard to climb out of bed this morning, because I didn’t want to have to look at anyone’s face that was even slightly familiar to me.
I was tested and I don’t even know at this moment if testing is the right word I should be using, but what ever it is, I was put through this torture once again later in the evening. When I thought the worst was behind me, and the quietness was finally surrounding me like a home theater system, the daggers came at me once again, but this time they were double-edged daggers because these were shot at me like speeding bullets from people I have loved my entire life as a mother, and I fell to the ground once again, and I saw these strange, familiar faces, kicking my spirit, and trying to stomp the life out of me.
It was so painful. I was rudely awakened to the reality, that the ones you have loved the most, the ones you depend on the majority of time to love you back, to be supportive in ways no others can be, in some circumstances can pass themselves off as strangers walking the streets in my own city.
When you get to be my age, one of the few things you do not want to happen, is to have your past brought back to the present. None of us are proud of some decisions we have made years ago. We make our decisions according to our circumstances we are going through at the moment. Sometimes, we end up making the right choice, and then there are others, we are ashamed of the choice, and somewhere down the road we realize it, and we fix it, but we do not want to be reminded of it in the time of our lives, where our children have grown up and are raising their own families, and we are sometimes forgotten that we exist. What we built our lives around, having babies, and wonderful Christmas and holiday memories, are just that, memories. We try very hard to still find our usefulness in the world, as we sometimes are thought of only at the holidays.
I am not stating this for all of us. Some of us have fantastic lives. We married the right man, we have wonderful children, we put money on hold in the bank, and we travel and enjoy ourselves in our retirements, but then there are others like me, who have not been so lucky.
I truly have tried my very best to do the right things for Al, to be a good mom to my children, and I am constantly fighting to reach heaven’s door. God has heard my prayers of pain and crying out. Praying that he takes my emptiness away, and that the hurtful words and ugly actions I was exposed to, I pray that God can somehow use my experience to help someone else.
Like I said in the beginning, I had no idea what I was going to write, but I do know that I wish a few of you lived closer, because as the Golden Girls always say, I need a group hug.
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