True Sadness
"MAMA DOESN'T LOVE ME! SHE HATES ME! SHE, SHE DOESN'T LOVE ME..." I lay on the couch half screaming, half crying, curled under a blanket in my underwear. Both my sisters sat beside me, one held my hand and the other rubbed my back. They both spoke in low soothing tones. They told me Mama loved me, they told me Daddy loved me and would die for me. And, because they were speaking to a drunk person who was quite illogical and incapable of seeing the obvious, they assured me they too loved me.
What consistently amazes me about both of my sisters is their pure unconditional love. They care about me. It hurts them to see me hurt. They say when you are drunk, your true person comes out. It turns out, as if this were any news flash, I am a very funny, but sad person. Once before I have gotten this way--that is drunk enough for me to function without any inhibitions whatsoever. The real me. Without the facades, without the emotion control and without the tough shell. I cry alot. I beg people to love me. I become like a hurt little girl, again.
I don't remember everything, or alot, for that matter. But I do remember bits and pieces. They told me more, but not all of it. I have a feeling some of it was too pathetic to recount. I remember sobbing brokenheartedly as I swore my mother didn't love me. I remember choking on sobs because I said Daddy didn't love me. I remember hyperventalating. I remember vomiting. I remember being concerned this was a indicator that I was a lightweight.
Last night, was a reality check. I realize that I cannot go through life faking it. Acting like I am alright. Life hurts. I hurt. People love me. I ignore that. You cannot hide behind humor forever. My humor masks pain and insecurity. Alcohol is a crutch. It's one more thing to distract from who I am and what I am lacking. One more excuse to not own up to my lacking relationship with Christ.
You know how parents say they have to let you make mistakes so you will learn? No matter how much it hurts them, they want you to learn for yourself? For the first time in my life, I fully realize the value and the pain of that lesson. Seeing the looks on my sisters faces when they talked about how unbelievably sad and scared they were for me. They didn't judge. They just told me they loved me. The pain and concern that was lurking in their eyes spoke volumes.
I don't want to change for them. I realize the weight of my actions, not the consiquences. But it is their love, which reflects the love of Christ. Unconditional. Unchanging. Undeserved.
If there is a way for them to completely understand the way they have lived out Christ, for me, I hope they will. Perhaps they will in heaven. Perhaps they will never know. But I will know. I will be able to look at them and remember their lives forever changed mine.
What consistently amazes me about both of my sisters is their pure unconditional love. They care about me. It hurts them to see me hurt. They say when you are drunk, your true person comes out. It turns out, as if this were any news flash, I am a very funny, but sad person. Once before I have gotten this way--that is drunk enough for me to function without any inhibitions whatsoever. The real me. Without the facades, without the emotion control and without the tough shell. I cry alot. I beg people to love me. I become like a hurt little girl, again.
I don't remember everything, or alot, for that matter. But I do remember bits and pieces. They told me more, but not all of it. I have a feeling some of it was too pathetic to recount. I remember sobbing brokenheartedly as I swore my mother didn't love me. I remember choking on sobs because I said Daddy didn't love me. I remember hyperventalating. I remember vomiting. I remember being concerned this was a indicator that I was a lightweight.
Last night, was a reality check. I realize that I cannot go through life faking it. Acting like I am alright. Life hurts. I hurt. People love me. I ignore that. You cannot hide behind humor forever. My humor masks pain and insecurity. Alcohol is a crutch. It's one more thing to distract from who I am and what I am lacking. One more excuse to not own up to my lacking relationship with Christ.
You know how parents say they have to let you make mistakes so you will learn? No matter how much it hurts them, they want you to learn for yourself? For the first time in my life, I fully realize the value and the pain of that lesson. Seeing the looks on my sisters faces when they talked about how unbelievably sad and scared they were for me. They didn't judge. They just told me they loved me. The pain and concern that was lurking in their eyes spoke volumes.
I don't want to change for them. I realize the weight of my actions, not the consiquences. But it is their love, which reflects the love of Christ. Unconditional. Unchanging. Undeserved.
If there is a way for them to completely understand the way they have lived out Christ, for me, I hope they will. Perhaps they will in heaven. Perhaps they will never know. But I will know. I will be able to look at them and remember their lives forever changed mine.
posted by A.E.C at 9:26 PM
5 Comments:
Thank you for sharing this with us. The realization that we cannot make it through this life with out the love and help of Christ is a hard reality for most of us. The love your sisters showed you has illuminated the path you feel you must travel.
God speed on your journey.
Blessings.
My parents divorced when I was three or so. My father stayed pretty active in my life until I was about 12, when he said that I was old enough to know when I wanted to see him. So he stopped calling every weekend and asking me if I wanted to come stay with him. In my twelve-year-old mind, that meant he didn't want to see me anymore. The man lives twenty minutes away, yet I never hear from him. To this day, if I want to hear from him, I have to call him. If I want to see him, I have to make the effort. He has to make no effort at all? All of this still says to me, at age 28, that he doesn't want anything to do with me. And I say now, it's your loss, bub. He's had a negative impact on every relationship I've ever had, and I resent him for that. Even after age twelve, I received phone calls on my birthday and Christmas, and usually spent Christmas afternoons with him at his inlaws' home. He hasn't called me on my birthday the past two years, and I don't expect to hear from him this year either. He hasn't called me on Christmas day in quite some time. I've stopped calling him on his birthday and Christmas Day and Father's Day because it just hurts my feelings too much to do so, because I KNOW for a fact he wouldn't do the same for me. He's proven that. I have people who love me in my life, and I'm tired of trying to make him part of that group. I've given up on ever being Daddy's Little Girl and on any relationship at all with this man. He'd never understand my pain and anger and resentment. I tried to explain it once, in tears, and all he could say was, "don't act stupid." So, I say, it's his loss.
Dang it-I changed your diapers, pumpkin. You're almost my baby, you know that? That's seriously how I feel.
And it's going to kill me to leave you guys.
Dear heart, it took me a long time to realise that I'm worth something to other people. It's a hard lesson for some people to learn, but it's true. You obviously mean a great deal to your parents, your sisters, and your blogging friends, who pined for you when you were gone for that forever-time of three or four days.
I personally don't believe in Christ, I feel belief in anything but yourself is a crutch just like alcohol, but love, you follow YOUR heart, do what you think is best, and do this, if nothing else--let other people love you, and know that you're worth being loved.
Your writing is wonderful and honest...and having read this far back in your blog, I just wanted to tell you that.
Got you bookmarked now.
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