I Don't Feel StrongLife has its twists and turns. That is a given. Pain and sorrow. Some have more than others. I have been told by many I should write a book. Perhaps. But who would buy it? lol not sure really. Would anyone believe it? Because we are living in a society where people judge without knowing, I have a feeling someone, somewhere would decide it was all made up. And having lived it once was enough. I don't want to defend it too.
Being told I am strong while it is a compliment I have a hard time feeling it. I have been broken, on my knees, screaming at the
injustice in this world more times than I can count. I have cried a river of tears from the pain of what people say. People I know, People I don't know and who don't care to know me. My family does not know me - don't care too. The one person in my life who wanted to know me, who sought me out, reveled in my life, and danced joyously was my Father. I say Father because he was not my DAD. I was adopted by my Step dad at 6 years old. Never saw my Father after that. Yet wondered more times than I could count who he was. I didn't fit my family. Still don't. I do not harbor hate in my heart, I do not live with judgment it is not my place. Who am I to judge anyone. But my Father, my Father sought me, found me, loved me and wanted me more than anyone I have ever known. we had such a short time together. 3 years then he was gone. I could not see him as often as I wanted. But I was with him when he passed. What a gift! So painful. I learned who I was in those 3 years. I found the other side of me. And I was hated for it. My parents, MOM and DAD never forgave me. Still to this day they talk about how much they hate my Father who has been gone now for 9 years. He never knew how much my mother hated him. Still does. He never felt it. But I did . Every time she opened her mouth. I could nothing right in her eyes. I was not slim, I was plagued with female problems that embarrassed her and cost her time and money neither of which she could afford she would say to anyone who would listen. My mother loved my brother not me. It took me years to understand why. She was mistreated by my grandmother. My grandmother was not nice to her daughters. Placed her sons on pedestals. And so my mother was taught intolerance, hatred, judgment, denial. She labels people. Only has one friend at a time. And loathes all who have more, than she does. I am glad I am more like my Father. I miss him. But I was blessed to be in his life, to share his loss with his other children who knew him better than I did. He was in their lives for their whole life, my presence was brief.
So many other things have shaped my character. My losses, my trials all helped me raise my sons. I have done my best. And I know in my mother's mind she probably thinks that she did hers too. I was once told by an aunt that my mom hated when i acted like my Father. When those times were I don't know. What I did, I do not know. But having a son who has a lot of His fathers mannerisms, his laugh, his looks, I now understand better what that meant. I never lived with my Father. Yet I was like him and hated for it. I remember thinking over the years about all the things she did to me, after two years of therapy it was brought to my attention that she was trying to break me. But I didn't break, I bent, like a giant oak tree standing stelfast against the wind. I love myself. I try to treat people the way i want to be treated. I try to find the good in people. And i love my children unconditionally, something i never had. I wanted to break the mold and I can only pray I have through my own children. So maybe I am strong. I just don't know it.