I do understand that it is long. Really long. I finally decided to post this over here. If you read it, leave a comment or something so I know you read it. It's my story.
Two sides to every person, two sides to every story. Ever hear the phrase about three sides to every story? Your side, my side, and the way things really happened. Things are not as they seem. Some people are quiet on the outside and screaming on the inside. Some people are loud and obnoxious and quiet and reserved inside. The outside doesn't always allow people to see what's going on inside. It's the stuff inside that really matters. All the outside things will come to pass but the inside things stick around and can hurt for a long time. ..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Growing up I was quiet and reserved in public. Inside I was screaming. No one heard me. I was the quiet kid in class, never speaking up, always knowing the answer and usually being right. At home i was the loud one. Always in trouble and never right. I'm glad i never took the never right attitude to school. Home and school just never seemed to mix. My mom was the ideal volunteer at school and always there to help. My dad wasn't around much. He was always there after work but we would always fight. We fought over everything. School work, house work, music, tv, stupid things. Usually these things turned into me getting sent to my room, grounded or both. When I'd get in trouble, I'd go into my room and hit my knees cuz that's what I could reach easily and tell myself I was stupid. It sounds pathetic now. Scratches didn't have the desired effect. It may have something to do with me being a thrower and a hitter. If my mom knew or saw, she didn't do anything. It was the only thing I felt I could control. I guess I liked food too much to give that up for control. And anything else may have signaled that life wasn't perfect.
My family always went to church growing up. I always loved Church growing up. I was free. I didn't have to be around my parents and when I did, I didn't have to listen to them. I could pretty much be myself. I dreaded going home. I didn't see Christ at home. I still have the hardest time getting into the Word and trusting it. I don't doubt that it's real, but I don't see it all the time and didn't see how to live the life 24/7.
Almost 10 years ago, my life changed forever. My dad was in a head on car accident on his way home from work. He wasn't killed but suffered a traumatic brain injury. The fights went from bad to worse. My sister and I learned a little how to be independent when he was in the hospital. He wasn't the dad we once knew. He tried to be a dad again by taking away all our independence. i was a sophomore in high school and not about to give it up. Since then the fights sometimes turned violent. If hit, I do hit back. I've always been a hitter but this time it wasn't always me striking first. I'm not proud of it, I have worked on it, it's not excusable, but I do have a temper and I am still working on it.
I've been kicked out numerous times. Often times I've gone and sat outside and cried cuz there was no where else to go. Most the time I was let back in after a few hours or so. Sometimes I would make some absurd promises or something like that to satisfy my father. Either that or wait till he was in bed. One time I was kicked out for a whole week. Didn't know if or when I was going back home. I had to stay at my grandparents. It wasn't fun there either. My grandma is pretty much stricter than my mother. We had a family reunion that weekend and my parents came. My dad wouldn't talk to me at all and I really didn't make an effort to talk to him either.
I had often wondered what would the quickest way out of there been. But I always feared it wouldn't work. Another example of being told I can't do anything right. What would happen if it did work? I knew what would happen if it worked. I know what my future would be. It would be worse that it is now. If it didn't work, I also knew my life could be worse. I could end up permanently disabled, having to live at home all the time. Not something I really wanted to happen.
During my 5 years of undergraduate work, I've learned to be a different person. I almost have 2 personalities. I have to be quiet at my parent's house. By nature, I'm a quiet person, but average conversation was too loud. I wanted so bad to get in a huge fight with my dad and tell him exactly how I feel. I want to tell him he's being abusive and such. I want to put him thru all that he put my sister and me thru. I want him to know what it feels like to be out of the loop because you're too worried about what's gonna happen at home than what's going on in your world. But I can't do that. As the time has progressed, things have gotten a little better. It has been 4 years since I've lived there at all and 7 years since I've spent any more than a summer there.
Most of what I am today is a result of the accident. It's like a parent was killed and put back as a different person in the same body. My dad's and my relationship most likely would have self destructed if it wouldn't have happened. Right now it's hanging on. The more time I spend out of the house the better it is. Even after almost 10 years he still blames everything on the accident. Get past it; use it as strength not a weakness. Looking back at life, I'm finding that everything that happened to me helps make me a better person. All the people that I work with even if I can't stand them make me a better person.
God works in mysterious ways. I once asked for patience. He gave me a girl in my cabin one year that was hearing voices. I didn't deal with her specifically, but the other girls that were freaked out. It taught me more how to count to 10 before freaking out with them. Sometimes it's more subtle but the mysterious ways are always there.
For a little over a year, I worked in a home for developmentally disabled adults. I loved and hated it all at the same time. I've been exposed to a totally different population. I don't want to dwell on this time, but save it for another day. I went to visit last week. It was awesome, kind of like I had never left, or at least in the eyes of a few residents. To know that I've made a difference in someone's life as miniscule as it may be is a wonderful feeling.
I did learn a few important things this past year. Some I learned when I returned to school. Some I learned due to my work environment. I know that life is a constant learning process. I know that I can't do it on my own. I know that I do need others. I need others. Wow. Powerful. I can't do it on my own and I'm coming into that realization. I'm on meds to help control a deep depression and my attention span. Not something I'm really proud of. But, if it can help me learn other ways to deal with life that aren't self-destructive, then I'm all for it. It does help.
Live life to the fullest. Don't let the little mounds turn into mountains. My life could have gone two different ways. I chose it to go the way it has. Kinda like marriage. For better or worse, I'm in this thing for the long haul. There is a lot more I could write but at the moment I feel it doesn't serve a purpose being here. It happened, I survived, I'm a good person, I love Christ, and I know what the end of my life holds if I hold on to life.
There's an awesome quote from St Francis of Assisi, "Tell others of the love of Christ, and if that fails use words." For some reason, that speaks more to me than anything I've heard lately. Not sure why, but it seems important right now.
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