Sadness

I guess I’m in a mood to share.  The last blog, inspired by tweets, inspired by facebook trolling that led to sadness and reflection, made me want to write another.  Divorce destroys.  That is pretty much factual.  No psychologist here, but people always talk about the affects of divorce on children.  As a child reared by parents who took me to church, I did not escape the destruction.  At the end of the day everybody is human.  People operate off of human emotions.

My parents relationship, for as long as I can remember, has been riddled with strife.  It got worse the older I got, when he remarried.  I fell victim to one side of the story.  At times, I hated my father.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized some of my transferred feelings were without merit, some were validated.  There are always multiple sides to stories.

Based on my own interactions with my parents, as well as observations, I can see why things didn’t work.  I also believe religion, not relationship, caused, and still cause, issues today.  The relationships I have with my mother, father, and step father are illusions sewn together by my forgiveness and decision to erect a mental and emotional wall.  I don’t doubt I could find justification.

The sadness part.  Ok.  I looked at the profile of somebody I was so in love with.  I just knew he would be mine.  He wasn’t the first and he wasn’t the last.  The “church” (again, my experience.  I’ll attempt to place quotes around my history) places a premium on getting married and finding a spouse.  Society does too.  I don’t understand why education, service to God and others, holistic ministry aren’t given a premium.  The Bible even says some won’t marry.  Why the “church” and society make people who cannot, choose not, or will not marry feel like failures is beyond me.

I paid attention in church and knew that should be a goal.  I dreamed up lists.  I had notions of fancy.  Everything was a sign.  Any attention was love.  I was a mess.   There are only so many guys in church, guys in the world period.  I dunno why God created a shortage…lol.  I was eventually attracted to only one type of guy, though I didn’t see it.  Not to disparage anybody, because I still care about at least two of them :), but they were unavailable then and will probably always be unavailable.

The reason I latched on whenever anybody gave me any attention is because I felt ignored.  I felt unloved.  I knew Jesus loved me.  I believed he died on the cross for little ol’ me.  But I didn’t see much of his love shown towards me by my parents, friends, and the “church.”  Now, people told me they loved me.  Again, humans convolute and distort love.  I didn’t feel or see what I read in the pages of the Bible.

I realize now that I couldn’t stay in bondage.  I couldn’t stay in Egypt.  I couldn’t languish to die.  The three that were unavailable left the most impact on my life.  They were like guides and beacons on the way to who I  should be, where I should go. 

Number 1, I’ve known the longest, since 97 in the sixth grade, though we went our separate ways.  We had the most issues.  We fought the most.  I don’t curse but you best believe I cursed him out in a text.  You had to be there.  We were off and on as friends.  Never labelled more than that but definitely acted like more.  It was the worst relationship, outside of familial, that I have ever had.  He is one of my best friends.  I would dang near lay my life down for this dude.  He had issues.  I had issues.  We were a lot alike.  Hurting people hurt others.  The same may be true for family.  I think both of my parents have/had issues, it’s pretty much proven in my father’s case.  He’s still struggling.  It isn’t my job to fix him.  He thinks he’s okay.  One day he will be healed and whole.  One day he will be who I know God created him to be.  Until then, I’ll love him, pray for him and support him.  I’ve dropped a friend over him and don’t regret it.  I don’t need that friend. I HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT THAT…hopefully the caps will remind me to write THROWAWAY…

Number 2.  That was a mess all the way around.  I wasn’t as obsessed.  I found out it wasn’t as well hidden as I thought. We didn’t really have issues.  I tried to tell him what somebody said behind his back.  It backfired.  Whatever.  We may have been a lot alike.  I remember some rumblings of some stuff.  Not from him.  We didn’t talk that much.  Craziness.  We are still cool.  If I would try to talk to him.

Number 3.  This was just bad.  I don’t think it was the worst.  It got me home, where I have thrived and been freed from bondage.  It blew up my life.  I lost friends.  Shoot, I lost his friendship.  But he holds the most special place in my heart.  His middle initial is tattooed on my wrist.  Before you judge, let me explain.  He assisted in my freedom.  I believe he loved me as a friend.  He couldn’t give me what I wanted.  I don’t believe he knows what he wants.  He has issues.  Our only true fight happened because I thought about his behavior and him, while he was ignoring me i might add, and asked a mutual friend a question.  She went and told him.  This is what destroyed a few friendships.  I think I may have talked to him since then.  Nothing major.  We don’t speak.  I haven’t attempted to speak to him in a while.  I think the people we love the most have the power to hurt us the most.  No matter how he has made me feel I’m grateful.  If he came around today I wouldn’t hesitate to include him in my life.  He needs help.  He needs to be free. 

Oh yeah.  The tattoo.  Let the “church” folk tell it, I’m not saved.  I love what my first and middle names mean (endeared, consecrated to God, gracious, merciful.  I gotta talk about this in THROWAWAY-especially endeared.  Don’t mind my notes.  I don’t want to forget) so I tatted the initials.  I was pissed at my dad.  Again, THROWAWAY.  His middle name means the new house.  I want to do something different.  I want to be something different.  It didn’t hurt that it’s an X…lol.  I think I’m well on my way to erecting a new house.

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