Normalcy? Is There REALLY Such a Thing??

Sometimes I crave normalcy. No scratch that. I desire, wish and want with everything that is Holy in me and on the earth, I want normalcy!!!

I wish my life went that "normal" route. Yanno the one. Where you grew up normal, had a big circle of friends. You went away to college. Finished. Started your career. Went to grad school while working. Finished. You meet The One. The One proposes to you in the most magnificent of ways. You accept the proposal. Have the ability to plan the most fantastic wedding.  Get married. THEN. Start having kids. Your life is filled with fun, laughter and an awesome circle of friends and family. Everyone just LOVES you to pieces. People seem to go out of their way to WOW you. Your life is filled with love and happiness and joy. Surprise parties are frequently given in your honor. You are never left out. Most certainly are never on the  outside looking in. A problem arises and people go out of their way to help you. Life may get difficult at times, but you get through it because of your wide support system. They always have that unblinding faith in God being in their lives cuz almost EVERYTHING works out for them in their favor, for they have never experienced real problems, as in the kind, people tend to shy away from cuz they really don't know how to deal with your brand of issues. Yanno, their life is... for lack of a better word, CHARMED.

I do not begrudge anyone their CHARMED life, but I often wonder why my life had to start the way it did. Continue the way it has. What purpose does it really serve?

This may seem like a fallacy of some sort. However, I do know actual people whose lives are exactly like the one I described. In fact, I know of a GREAT many people like that. And sometimes, it leaves me so very sad about my own life. Especially if I think about it too hard.

And NO, Im not depressed!!! Im not having a pity party. I just want to know WHY? And what was or IS the PURPOSE???

Sooo, let me give you my list of WISHES.

I wish I did not know first hand what it feels like to feel unwanted, unloved, bothersome, worthless and isolated. These are the first feelings Ive ever remember feeling as a child.

Sometimes, if I am really in that special place, I wish she would have just given me up for adoption once she really realized she couldn't handle being a mother. I know my life would have definitely been different, especially if I had gone to the family who was willing to take me in.

I wish I was allowed to have a social life growing up. To actually know what my home phone number was. To not have a lock on the rotary phone. Or the mouthpiece removed from the handset. I was never really allowed to hangout with kids my age. And after awhile, I was known as the kid with problems. And you know how kids act around kids with problems? If not teasing, taunting and bullied, then always left out. Who really wants to be bothered with that kid with all the problems??

I wish that by time I had gotten to college, I had learned how to be social. That I was that person everyone wanted to be around. Instead, whatever I had on me earlier that said "problem" was still there and I really didn't fair too much better socially in college. No lifetime friends made there either.

I wish I had a normal family. In which socializing, visiting each other, shopping, going out to dinner etc... was a normal part of family life. Where talking and laughing was easy going, instead of forced politeness because of that elephant that is always in the room that everyone ignores and no one talks about. Instead of, when going to visit and you are left by yourself in one room, while they are upstairs in their room watching some show they have probably seen hundreds of times. And God forbid, you dare bring up that elephant in the room.. then you find yourself ostracized.

I wish I had been diagnosed EARLIER with 2 sleep disorders that didn't have a name for years. It would have saved me so much grief from feeling lazy, depressed, unmotivated, and a loser and like I will never amount to much in life because I couldn't push myself enough. Well, upon finding out I just wasn't able to simply push myself, but trying not to accept a form of preconceived defeat that it is here, this is what this really is, and there really is not much to be done about it.


I wish people didn't give me funny and/or disbelieving looks when I tell them of this disorder.  I keep telling myself, well maybe its cuz they don't understand it. For we are quick to dismiss what we don't understand because a person doesn't LOOK like they have a problem.

I really wish people would quit telling me that I am depressed as to why Im sleeping so much!!

I wish people would understand that I do not wish nor want this upon myself. If it seems as if I keep talking about it, it is because that it has only had a name for about 6 months. Im still learning how to deal with it.. how to try and avoid it... how to not succumb to it...

I wish people could understand that this simply is not a mind over matter thing. I cannot simply put my mind over this matter at hand IF my brain decides to shut off and go to sleep.

I wish people wouldn't say.. that they are tired too.. for they really wouldn't know tired... imagine being awake for 48 hours, taking some Benadryl or Nyquil, and then forcing oneself to stay awake for 24 more hours... if you can actually grasp that concept.. then you can  actually begin to TRY to understand and gain a true understanding as to the sheer exhaustion I feel on a daily basis.


I wish I didn't feel uncomfortable in the ONE place I never thought I would feel uncomfortable.

I wish that it isn't JUST ME dealing with everything BY MYSELF, all the time, no help, no support. No nothing. The guilt behind leaving my daughter to fend for herself when my body involuntarily shuts down to sleep really is unimaginable.

I wish people wouldn't offer to be an ear if I need someone to talk to. Only for me to see the sheer dread on their face when I approach them. Cuz they are never quite sure exactly what the problem is going to be. This. Time.

I wish I didn't have that ability to read or sense the dread in people. But after a lifetime of always being in need, or always needing some help, or help in figuring something out, you are able to see it, sense it, & feel it.. in the inner core of your soul. And believe me when I say, it is a HORRIBLE feeling. I always end up giving them an out, so they don't feel bad for dreading me approaching them nor having to come up with an excuse as to why they cant give me that ear they offered.

I wish people wouldn't ask me how I am doing, when REALLY? They know they really don't want to know. And I know, they really don't want to know. Whenever someone asks me how Im doing, I cringe and manage or try very hard..  to avoid the question.

I wish my smile could easily return to my face. But my forced smile is one which hides many unshed tears.

I wish I knew what is really going on in my unseen world. For there is always something going on to unearth my foundation. I mean, I know and fully understand EVERYBODY goes through stuff... but the stuff I go through is stuff that turns my world completely and utterly UPSIDE DOWN. And it never seems to STOP!

And then, I learned about generational curses. And I REALLY wished I never learned about that. You ever known a family where bad things continually happen to them and they can NEVER seem to make it, despite how HARD they try? Everything they try ends up failing. And now, I FULLY am starting to understand how my life is the way it is. It is by some kind of design that Im paying for, for whatever my ancestors did.

I wish I could ask for help. But again, after a lifetime of always having to ask.. always having to be in need of something, I simply cannot stand or bare.. to ask.. for ONE MO THANG!  I will accept if offered, not that I am waiting for people to offer, because when they do offer, I feel extremely uncomfortable.. as if.. why haven't I managed to get myself together YET?  I now find myself, ducking, dodging and hiding.. trying to avoid people offering. hoping they don't seek me out.. because when they offer, it brings painful tears to my eyes.

I wish ONE thing in my lfe could be handed to be. Instead of fighting to the death, uphill, with one shoe on in 3 feet of snow... fighting with everything that is within me... for ONE small THING
.
I wish my daughter wouldn't say things like, it makes me sad you never have anyone to celebrate your birthday with you and your last party was when you were 5. OR it's not fair that Daddy has a wife and you are still by yourself. Well kiddo, I really wish, you didn't have that kind of understanding regarding the person that is your mother.

I wish my daughter never knows what it is like to be excluded. Only to see the fleeting hint of disappointment in her face, once she realized she was in fact, excluded. It pained me to see her shrug it off, as if it was no big deal. It pained me even further to know she was excluded, because her mother is ALWAYS excluded.

I wish I wasn't the one who is always on the outside looking in. Always the last one to join the group. to not know what has happened. I wish it wasn't so hard to penetrate those established circles of friendships in which I always find myself excluded from.. despite my best efforts.

I wish and pray.. this curse that seems to be upon me.. never touches her.

I wish I could join some kind of sisterhood of some sort. When Ive inquired in the past about how to join one I was interested in.. I was greeted with an odd lock.. almost one of disdain. I was ready to chalk it up as to me being paranoid, until she said those fateful words.. ummmm you have to be INVITED in.. oh thats right.. silly me... exclusionary rules are always in play.

I wish my relationship with God did not coincide with the then flourishing relationship with him. For I was able to relate the intangible love of God with the perceived tangible love from him and it literally had me floating on air.. for 2 years..  Or so I thought. When I realized a year ago, I needed to put the brakes on him, I spiritually bottomed out.. and Ive not yet.. bounced completely back. Most people are able to recall that one person that gives them a partial clue as to what God's Agape love feels like, either through a parent, loved one, spouse.. somebody.. I can honestly say.. I really don't know what that feels like. And its especially difficult to realize that this person.. will probably never go above and beyond.. to put that action behind that verb that is love.. and *show me* that I am in fact, the best thing since sliced bread. I am at the point in my life that anything that isn't *showing* me.. is mere lip service. I remember all the times in my life... especially recently..when I put the action behind that particular verb.. and now I feel a fool for it wasn't reciprocated... nor will it ever be.

I wish I never discovered what God's purpose is for my life... for it seems like Ive been going through hell ever since I finally gained the courage to reveal that.. and my life has literally been hell ever since.

I wish and pray and wish a pray some more... that God will send me that husband I so desire that He knows will be suited just for me... I desperately need some HELP... someone who will understand and not judge me. Someone who is willing to accept me for who I am, who willing to remember what it is I forget.. who is willing to wake me up when I sleep past 5 alarm clocks.. someone who really "gets it" without me having to do a bunch of explaining.

And finally, I wish more than anything.. that prayers for myself are answered. I am grateful that ALL of my prayers for my daughter are ALWAYS answered.. but for myself.. not so much. I pray I can one day understand the reasoning as to why.

but as they say.. Wish in one hand... ________ in the other.. and see which ones fills up quicker.

My 39th Birthday is fast approaching. I am not depressed. I am not filled with dread. I am not throwing a pity party. I am not insecure about who I am and whose and Whom I belong to.  I am facing some pretty hard cold facts about myself and my life for I have realized that as each year passes by.. nothing has really gotten any better for myself..  facing the reality that things regarding me has in fact gotten worse as each year passes by.

So now it is time for me to really, truly and completely withdraw, reflect, pray, and seek a divine revelation as to HOW to make my life completely turn around. For Good!

Until then.. ~Be Blessed~

TypeCasted

Ive decided to finally seek a licensed professional Christian psychiatrist. Im tired of fighting this thing on my own. Sometimes I feel as if Im in a daily fight for my sanity. I would turn to my church, but Im afraid if they would know some of my issues, I would be typecasted as that crazy one. I remember one time long ago.. i went to a medical doctor for depression, he wrote that in my file and every time i went to the doctor for something as simple as a bad cold he would always look at my chart and ask...

Well, ARE YOU DEPRESSED???

*sighs*

Ive figured out I need to be able to talk each and every issue out without being looked at as being crazy. or delusional. or paranoid. or self centered. or better yet.. narcissistic. I need to figure out how to deal with every issue and talk everything out and renew my mind continuously.

The thing about depression, people are very quick to say well just pray it out. get into your Word. you are just wanting and seeking attention. blah blah blahhhh..... None of that is ever the case and yes those are the solutions only AFTER you figure out the REAL issue and what that issue is coupled with.

And Im figuring out the issue always goes back to the feelings of abandonment.

I dont wish to take psychotherapy drugs. or the bring the fam in and have the big discussion on how much they have screwed my psyche up thing cuz I know neither of those will work.

I just need to be able to talk about each issue.

One at a time.

Without being typecasted. or.

Pigeonholed.

#ThatIsAll

Spiritual Warfare: Fighting Old Demons

My birthday has never one that has garnered much celebration... typically, I usually hate to see them roll around, its usually a time for me to reflect that not much has changed since my last birthday...

This time, it hit me harder than I expected.

You see, last week I had to cut off someone who I held dear to me because he was too much in my spirit for him to not be my husband and it became a horrible distraction. The ties I felt to him Ive come to learn is an unGodly soul tie simply because I should not have my spirit affected by a man Im not married to and probably will not be with no time in the immediate future, if ever.

But thats a different blog for a different day if I should ever post that blog.

I thought when I cut the ties, I would finally be free, but the devil surely got busy.

I thought I was delivered from the feeling of loneliness, but it seems that I have not.

Birthdays always show just how alone I am in this world, with the exception of God. And I know in my heart , mind and soul it is He I should rely on for companionship, I would be a fool to say that Im content with that.

Although I had become content spiritually in my singlehood, or so I thought anyways, when I cut off the ONE person who I know doesn't judge me and accepts me for me, and finds my quirkiness endearing, someone whom I have had nearly everyday contact with for the last 4-5 years and now...

nothing.

Not so much as a birthday wish, text, message, email, phone call.. nothing from him...

and Im soooo very hurt by that.

the fear of being alone for what seems like forever overwhelmed me..

The nightmares came first. Horrific dreams of me eternally alone. Dreams of my funeral and no one is in attendance. As if I never mattered or as if no one ever cared about me.

The devil is a liar.

Then childhood memories came flooding back, and those memories seem to replay themselves in my dreams as well... Two memories stand out the most...

The first being... when I was growing up, I lived in a 3 room apartment. it was long in length and ran in order of bedroom, short hallway, living room then kitchen. My room was the bedroom and my mother's room was the living room. My mother decided she needed to feel as if she was in the house by herself and so she put up a curtain across the short hallway and I was required to knock on the wall if I wanted to go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Never knowing what kind of mood she would be in, or how venomously she would reply to me when I knocked on the hallway, oftentimes I would be paralyzed in fear. Afraid to go into the kitchen for something to eat because I didn't know what her mood was going to be. So usually I would make sure I at before she came home or wait until she went to sleep, or sit in my room hungry hoping she would remember to bring me something to eat. God forbid if she was off the weekend and didn't go anywhere.  Sometimes, I wouldn't see her for weeks. Can you imagine being 10 years old, living in small quarters with your mother and not seeing her for weeks? I hated being alone. absolutely hate it now still to this day.  That feeling that no one cares about you is really something to reckon with. Im learning that people who have a host of siblings, cousins, family, friends and always have had a string of significant others if not married for years simply do not understand this kind of loneliness. They seem to think Im just taking myself through something unneccessarily, that God is my comforter and my friend and so on, and although He is, quite simply Im just tired. Tired of facing everything...

ALONE.

Being the only one to look out for me, care about me, love on me.

In the physical sense of course.

Only a fool can say, that despite how much they allow God is in their life, they don't have that physical desire of not being alone.

The second memory that is replaying is one surrounding my birthday itself. When I was growing up, report card pick up time was usually during my birthday week. Oh the sense of dread my birthday would bring me... For whatever reason, the first marking period of the school year was never my best one and that would be when I would get my worse grades. Although I would end the year with all As and Bs, the first quarter grades would almost always see a C or D.  Usually ending with me seeing my mother throw my left over birthday cake away and destroying whatever presents she may have bought me.

Psychological damage can last a lifetime. To all parents, please be careful of the seeds you are planting in your children.  Bruises heal and pain from beatings can be forgotten, but that psychological abuse is what is most damaging.

Make sure your child isn't living with the devil.

I could probably go on endlessly with the horror stories of childhood... but i will stop here cuz you get the point Im sure.

Im in a dark place right now. Fighting and praying my way back to light. Back to my joy. Im tired of waking up with my eyes nearly swollen shut. When the nightmares run rampant, I have a tendency to cry in my sleep.

My poor baby said to me on my birthday that it is sad that I have no one to celebrate my birthday with, that I only got one card for my birthday and that Ive only had one birthday party, and thats when I was 5. She says my birthdays are always sad, and she hopes that one day, they won't be sad anymore.

I can say... I with her on that one.

They say its all in what you make it. But my personal circumstances have not changed much since my last birthday, or the one before that, and the one before that and the one before that...  and I can't really afford to do much.

Im realizing that I need to see a Christian counselor of some sort. Someone who can help me weed through all of these memories that are flooding back and to finally lay my childhood to rest. I wonder so much whyyyy I had to endure what I endured growing up. I need someone to help me to understand why I am always just by myself, despite my best efforts, Im still the unintended loner. People are in my circle, but Im not in theirs and find myself always excluded. I wonder what is it about my personality, even when Im at my happiest that make people take pause. What kind of energy am I giving off? Ive grown sooo much spiritually in the last couple of years and yet here I still am...

ALONE.

In the physical sense of course.

My faith in God hasn't wavered and Im trying my best not to be doubtful, but I wish I could get an answer on how to deal with this constant being by myself. Help on getting over that Ive been mainly the only one, in the physical sense, looking out for ME since I was at least 10.  No one to share my burdens with and afraid to ask for anything for fear of being a burden. No one who has my back 100% and without recourse. Im wondering if there really is such a thing or if I am being too idealistic. I need real answers  on how to deal with this and not the cliches of on God's time, and when it comes it going to be wonderful and above your wildest dreams and expectations. but REAL ANSWERS.

This is that one thing, that ONE THING, that Ive consistently prayed to God about since I was a little girl and have yet been given. Companionship.  I really am trying my best to not mind waiting on God.

Prayerfully, now that Ive put pen to paper, I can get some peaceful sleep.

The Moment: Do You Remember the *Moment* You Realized Your Skin Color Mattered?

I was watching a video of Joel Freeman doing a synopsis of his book Return to Glory and he spoke of that MOMENT in your life in which you realized that you would be treated differently based on the color of your skin.

Sooo, I sat there and kinda had to think about it. I am of the white man can't keep me down and black folks should be more accountable mentality.. so it took me a moment to conjure up a memory...

For the most part, my childhood was racism free.. If there was racism, I certainly didn't experience it. I was fortunate enough to experience many integrated settings as I took private flute lessons at Sherwood Conservatory where I was exposed to all races and cultures as well as performed with Chicago's All City Band.  I had friends of all cultures and never thought twice about race being an issue.

Then in 1991, I went away to college at the University of Minnesota @ Morris. A small campus of 2,000 students (80 of whom were black) in west central Minnesota.. not too far from the Dakota's borders. Being a music major, I was required to sign up for a meeting with the band director. the sign up sheet was on his door. When my appointed time came, I knocked on the door to his studio, (music profs have studios) and the look on his face was classic. I can't say the color drained from his face, for he was a very pale white man, but I do remember he turned beet red, stumbled over his words profusely and kept asking me my name repeatedly to which in my 17 year old Chicago black girl attitude replied ROBERTA MATTHEWS AND I AM A MUSIC MAJOR!! Im not sure which floored him the most, me having the nerve to  be standing at his door or the fact that I was a music major, or perhaps it was a combination of both.

It came time for seating arrangements so all 20 of us had to perform a piece and we were seated by level of performance. Now when I was in All City Band, I was 2nd chair 1st row. I didn't figure to be in the first 5 chairs, but I definitely figured to be in the first row. Imagine my surprise when I was seated in the 2nd row, 8th chair. which is 3rd from the bottom. So I said, Ok, maybe since Im a freshman, maybe Im still too new to be up front. A couple of weeks go by and as I get to know my flute-mates I discover that a few in the front row were freshman, and not only were they freshmen, one asked me how to key an upper register note.

*blank stare*

So, you are in the front row, but you dont know how to key upper register notes? Really?

Did I mention I was the only black music major in the music department? The only black in the College Concert Band? I used to sit there during rehearsal and so many would stare at me so intently because they had never seen a black person before.

Anyflutes... 2nd year of college, I am placed 2nd row, 3rd seat. ok.

At the end of my 2nd year, music major were required to perform a jury, and thats when you go before the music faculty and perform a piece from each musical era... I passed, which I was surprised. So I figured by the 3rd year, I should at least be in the 1st row.

Nope. So this time,  my fellow flute mates (all white) were quite sure race played a part of me being seated so low, so they petitioned whoever they petitioned and got us all a re-audition. Which we did, and I moved up one seat. They were pissed. When I think back on it, those white girls had a lot of balls.. but thats another conversation...

During these years, I am struggling horribly in music theory. I do mean HORRIBLY. Although I had private lessons, I never took any classes in music theory in high school . First year theory was alright, but as the difficulty got greater, my grades got worse! I begged my professors for help cuz I didn't understand why I wasn't getting it. I was determined not to fail, for i NEVER failed at anything academic. Not one professor helped me, and believe me I asked for help.

my music adviser told me to change my major, that I would never be a good musician. WOW Talking about killling someone's dreams. Instead of helping me, he tells me to quit. I could see saying that to me if I was being tutored and still failing, but none of them would help me! This totally altered the course of my life.

needless to say, I ended up flunking out of college. and that is that.This is the momement in my life in which I realize the color of my skin played a part of how I will be treated.


The Moment by Countee Cullen (1903-1946)

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee
I saw a Baltimorean
kept looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
and he was no whit bigger
And so I smiled, but he poked out
his tongue and called me "Nigger"
I saw the whole of Baltimore
from May until December:

Of all the things that happened there
Thats all I remember.

Soooo... what was your moment? Either you are black and realized racism or you are white, and realized your whiteness gives you privilege. Oh, the moment goes both ways, in my opinion.

God Is Trying To Tell You Something, Are You Listening?

Another memory has once again come from nowhere...

I remember the first night when I moved in with Mister. I had a dream that shook me to my core... At this time I was 4 months pregnant and had not yet found out what the sex of my baby was going to be.

In the dream, I had a girl who looked just like me. And we were living in a 3 room apartment, walking to the bus stop and getting on a yellow and white bus. I couldn't see the clothes she had on but she had ponytails with blue and white barrettes. And of course, she was talking up a storm.

At the time I thought I was being fearful of living out my own childhood with my daughter. Repeating the pattern. Something I was/am very afraid of. I know now it was something entirely different.

So fast forward 3 years and MiniMe and are living in a 3 room apartment, and yes she looks just like me, and we walked that same route to the bus stop and we got on that yellow and white bus which is the Pace Suburban bus here in Chicago. Its her 1st day of me taking her to Pre-k3 school at a Catholic school from our new 3 room apartment, she has on a blue plaid jumper and blue and white barrettes. I remember being on the bus that day with the oddest sense of deja-vous...

It took a couple of days to pull the memory of that dream to the forefront of my brain, and once the remembrance of that dream came full circle, I sat there in horror in realization that my worse nightmare has indeed come true... I am having my daughter live out my own childhood, 3 room apt, on the bus and no money...

I now realize, some 4 years after that deja-vu moment the dream meant something entirely different. I realize now that God speaks to me in my dreams (because Im too stubborn to listen while Im awake). Here I thought in my fleshly mind that I had dreams that told the future when in fact my dreams was God warning me about a course of action that I have taken or He is guiding me in a manner about my life in which I need clarity.

At that time, I was greatly concerned about shacking up with Mister... everyone has those certain sins that we simply will not cross the line on, and for me living with a man I wasn't married to was up there with murder, stealing & adultery... something I never thought I would do.

Im not going into all the details with Mister. Those of you who have followed me over the years know the story, but at that very moment in time Mister had yet to fully shed his sheep clothing and expose himself as the wolf he is. However, when reflecting back on that particular dream God was telling me...

"Pack yo stuff up gal and go now while the getting is good for this is where you will end up!!!"

When God speaks to you, there is a certain amount of conviction you feel, you know for certain what you are suppose to do. When I woke up from that dream I looked at Mister with horror, knowing I should pack my stuff back up at that very moment and haul tail outta there! However, I came to what I thought was my senses (my allowing the enemy to deceive me) and figured this was me having a moment about my fear of living my childhood over as an adult.

If only I had listened.... but at the very least I learned some very important and good lessons. So I suppose it wasn't a complete waste.

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The Art of Story Telling: The $175 Lesson

Disclaimer: Im writing this on my phone, so bear with me thru any typos and weird spacing...

Although, Im not telling a make believe story, Im oftentimes amazed at how vividly I remember some of the darkest days of my life...

This past Friday I was suppose to go on a women's retreat with the women in my church. I couldn't wait to go, a mere hour away, to take me away to serene beautiful location away from the city and madness to a place filled with prayer and deliverance... oh... I was fully ready and expecting being delivered of some stuff as well as maintaining the deliverance I've already received...

Back when I paid my $175 for this trip, for whatever reason I thought MiniMe was getting out of school on this past Friday and the plan was for her father to pick her up from school that day as I made my way out of town. Well those plans fell thru last week when I found out MiniMe doesn't get out of school for another week. For a week, I desperately searched for someone to watch her... everyone had plans or simply said no... finally a break when 2 girls whom she loves said they would do it... but that too fell thru... then my brother in Christ asked his Mom and she said yes... this is almost at the final hour of me leaving... Soooo I tell MiniMe of the new plans and she had a fit...

Right there at the train station...

She didn't want to go with my friend's mom... she really didn't know her that well... and she was like noooooo Mommy... I don't wanna go!! this is my last weekend home before i leave for 3 WHOLE months and I want to spend it with you! So Im like u wasn't concerned with this being your last weekend when u thought u were going with the girls so what gives??? She said at least I know I was going to have fun! But how can u leave me with someone I don't know my last weekend home? And she just cried her lil heart out... and at that moment I felt sooooo selfish and guilty... I was putting my wants before hers just so I can go on this lil trip... I was filled with guilt, feeling self centered and selfish, and most importantly... empathy... and at that time I couldn't place where the feelings of empathy were coming from...

So I called the person I was riding with and told them to go ahead without me... Im not going...

This disappoint I felt was horrific... just soooooo mad at myself... mad for mixing up the dates, mad for wanting to push her off on someone just so I can go... the feeling was indescribable... more like a deep sense of loss... couple with this severe sense of empathy... i just wanted to go away if only for a weekend...that really wasnt alot to ask for yanno??

So I kept looking for the answer to that empathy feeling and that led me to a long forgotten memory...

When I was 9... my aunt committed suicide... my mother shut down for years after that. A few months to a year or so after my aunt's death.... I was home with my mother and she had an incredible sense of calm in her face... she told me very calmly that she was going out for beer and cigarettes and she will be right back. Nothing unusual, but something definitely felt odd... an hour passed... and then another... and then another... sometime during that time my mother's boyfriend came home... inquired to where she was, I told him and that was that...

Hours passed and I went to him and said she has been gone a mighty long time so he went to look for her...

He found her in her car passed out. Apparently she had gotten her beer and cigarettes. She had also planned out her suicide by placing a towel in the exhaust, starting the car and drank till she passed out hoping and expecting the carbon monoxide would fill the car and she would die quietly in her sleep. Little did she know that when she started the car, the power engine to the old green Plymouth Duster would blow the towel clean out of the exhaust pipe.

She was ever so thoughtful to have written a suicide letter to which she proclaimed her love for her boyfriend and her aunt and for someone to please take care of her 2 cats. No mention of me anywhere in that letter.

Suicide is an extremely selfish act. The destruction it leaves within a family is indescribable. I shudder in remembrance of just how selfish she was and still sometimes is...

I remember feeling worthless... I wasn't worthy enough to be mentioned in a suicide letter. I remember feeling incredibly unloved... that she didn't love me enough to ask someone to look out for me... she loved those 2 blasted cats enough, but not me. She took for granted that someone would feel obligated enough to burden themselves with me... not because they may have wanted to but because they would've felt obligated.. and although their (whoever they would have been) intentions may have been good... chances are I would've felt the burden I wouldve been to that person.

As I remembered this bit of horrific history... I thought of the look of horrow and sense of urgency in my daughter's face. She wanted to know did I love her enough and did I think she was worth me cancelling my trip for and the answer is yes Daughter, you are worth way more than my trip, I love u more than enough to not go for your sake...

Im often very hard on myself concerning how Im raising MiniMe.. always very fearful and mindful of being like my mother. My mother would've packed me up and sent me off despite my protest. She was just that selfish for every and anything always came before me. Its never the physical abuse I remember from my mother, but always the psychological and emotional abuse. Thats what stays with me. Thats what haunts me, even now. Although I have long forgiven her from my heart, and oftentimes yearn to forget those painful memories, sometimes I need the reminder of what not to be.

we had our weekend together and she enjoyed herself immensely... for which im glad... she will have this memor for a lifetime.

Sometimes, i want something that is just about me. I dont have birthday celebrations, Im not married nor in a relatonship and Im fine with that. i just wanted this simple lil getaway... but that too is ok. One day, it wont mean everything to me to go away and have a little time just for myself because it will one day be the rule and not the exception.

I oftentimes am envious when i see mothers & dabughters who have close relationships cuz I so wish I had that with my mother. but instead of being upset, i know without a doubt that i make sure my relationship with MiniMe never turns south. for all of u who have loving relationships with your mother, be forever thankful.

"We can make our plans but the Lord will determine our steps." Proverbs 16:9

It costed me $175 to learn that No, Im not like my mother... not even a little bit.

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