dear friend
I must always call you that, for in my mind that is what you remain. Even when the part of you that I cherished and was so attracted to has been eclipsed, I know it is there. I know that you are there inside a shell, behind a mask of hurt and confusion. I am sorry I contributed to your pain and feeling of loss by speaking harshly, plainly to the growing contention between us. I don't recall who started it, nor does it seem to matter much now. I just need to get some things off my mind, off my chest, so I can sleep tonight.
I picture myself sitting on your comfy couch, nervous because he is in the room, forever changing the way you talk and limiting what I can say, what I can do. No more tears from you, and no more will I be able to hug you and try to chase away the scary things that wage war against your mind and heart. That is his job now, and I need to pray he does it better than I ever could, and stays longer than I managed to stay. He has what I had once asked for and never gotten, your commitment. I presume you have his complete devotion and full will to make the best of every day with all its challenges.
I am so sorry about your mom and dad leaving you with such a mess, but you know you did some of this to yourself by exploring where you did not have to go. Sometimes a book that has a tragic ending does not need to be read to its conclusion. On the other hand you have more information here than most will ever have about WHY their family did not work. What will you do with this? What can you do? Not much really, no more than you have tried.
You have a chance. You know the truth, but until you embrace it it will not set you free. You can now see that what your father preached did not bring happiness or fulfillment into his life. Putting up with all his crap compromised your mother to the point of denying herself joy, and shortening her life by destructive habits. She tried, with you and your brother, to overcome the evil that lurked in your home. she put on the best face she could, but behind the scenes was directing the show, and was in fact stuck playing a part she wrote, but could not voice her own desperation, so she tended to yours and greived as you fought the battles that left you scarred and lonely, sad and sick from the pain of not fitting in your world.
As of today I release you from my mind and from my heart to go and be and do whatever it is that you are to do. I will no longer dwell on what was, or could have been for us. That is gone a long time ago. You helped me. I helped you. Now we go on in seperate paths, to goals that are unshared. You have what you wished for, longed for, desired. Make it work. I will work on my life, raise my daughter, encourage my sons, and serve my God with my life, my strength and my testimony. I will pray for you one more time as I sleep tonight, and trust you to the care of the God who never sleeps, and the savior who knows you more intimately than I even could, and loves you beyond words.
God bless you and your husband, and bring peace to your household
is pain attractive?
Heck no, pain does not attract us.
Yet somehow death and injury do when they are able to be viewed in 'drive by' mode.
When we see a bad accident, something about the twisted metal and broken glass draws our eyes to scour the scene for the signs of life, or death that may be there. We might wonder aloud if anyone got hurt, while silently we are thankful that it was not us, or someone we love. How ego centric is our world and how deceptive the thought that if it does not happen to me, it matters less.
I am starting to agree with M. Scott Peck's postulation that life is hard. ( period) that is what it is. Even for the few who escape the daily struggle for food and shelter because they have a hedge of funding to keep the cold at arms length, there is the struggle for meaning, for worth, personal value. For those who have some safety from hardships, and have a good position with clear goals that are supported by society at large, there is still the struggle of "what am I beyond my job function?"
Theere is an article in Time magazine on another view of psychotherapy that i am just now reading and digesting (yesterday was a snow day, so I got to stay in and read) I will add to this later when i connect all the dots,
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I became a writer some time ago. In some ways I got better at it by blogging for most of a year. The loosness of the format let me get off track, though. I am a poor typist and slow, so I am going to longhand in notebook, for the thoughts that flow while I am not facing this electronic cube. I bought a notebook and two pens with the idea in mind that this would be my moment of embarcation ( sp) as I leave teh comfortable shores of writing for fun and entertainment to writing for the impact it can have and for the possibility of it being another income stream, though it may start out as a trickle.
Today's last (written) thought: God does not ever drive by and wonder, or look and keep moving. He is always related to the accident victim, and always there to console, calm and if needed, collect the soul of a departed traveler. When I go past the next crash site, I will imagine Him there, holding and loving, and caring for His lambs. He knows their names.
