Friday, May 13, 2011

retribution for a broken heart

I've often thought that getting revenge would somehow make me feel so much better. A sense of relief washing over me as the person who wronged me gets their just desserts. But then again, is it really only a passive aggressive approach to coping? Although I might feel justified, sanctified, and refreshed, does the other person really feel the way I hoped they would? Probably not. I can only hope they feel just as sad, just as hurt, just as mistreated. But more than likely, they won't. It'll just leave me with an empty feeling of dismay and an open-ended wound with maybe only a few grains of salt removed.

So what then is the acceptable alternative? Do they just get away with hurting me? Do they get away unscathed? Do they get away with everything? To me, it seems like the unjust will forever be happy, snappy, and unaffected, while I am left feeling used, abused, and abandoned.

But then a small still voice whispers, "Be still and know that I am God." I'm sorry...what...? Be still? How do I be still when all I want is revenge? Revenge. Retribution. SOMEONE to defend my honor. Someone to defend my broken heart. Yes, Sheerah. Be still. Be still and know that He is God. Not you, HIM. So that is where I am now. Caught in a ping pong game of anger and letting go, resentment and painful acceptance. My head hurts from the game. Back and forth. Tick. Tock. Plop. What good can possibly come from all of this? For right now, at this very moment, all I feel is empty. Empty and so very much alone.

::

But then I think, there must be a reason. God must have a plan. In fact, I know He does. He promises me that. It's just so hard to remember that when my thoughts race, my heart is in pieces and my life requires a whole, functioning woman. It's a psychological Catch 22. My brain is pulled in so many directions. Anger, pain, joy, frustration, relief...I can't commit to one, I can't remove the other. It's like I'm a drooping piece of salt water taffy. What are my options? How do I get rid of the anger that rages inside? The hurt that swarms my veins with a vengeance? The pain that threatens to overcome every fiber of my being? I give it to Him, but then I take it back. I let go, chase it down again. Will I ever learn? Will I ever heal? Will I ever manage to gather the pieces of my broken heart and find the glue that can permanently mend me?

I slowly open my hand, one finger at a time, realizing that letting go is what I must do. It's the only option I have in front of me. But my tight-fisted grasp on the past, the pain, the injustice...it's disabling. I'm trying to loosen my grip. I'm trying to unhinge my fingers. I'm trying to move in the right direction. But surprise surprise...it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Friday, July 23, 2010

one year and counting

So May 18 marked one year of sobriety. It's a big deal to me. I got my token and everything. Looking back though, had it not been for Addison, I probably would have hit the bottle up for another round. I mean, it's not that Aidan wasn't enough to keep me from drinking, it's just that I am a rule follower and I knew I couldn't drink while pregnant. So I took her along to my meeting to accept the token with me. The last year has been one of the hardest of my life. So many changes, heartache, heartbreak, disappointments...but there has also been the miracle of life and the development of my firstborn into a little man. I am so blessed. Really. God gave me the strength to stop drinking and He also gave me the gift of two beautiful children. Life really can't be any sweeter.

Although I am not where I want to be in love, I feel more blessed now than I ever have before. I feel closer to God than I have ever been and thank Him for what He's done to keep me sane and thriving, despite the sadness that threatens to consume me. I have two lives that depend on me everyday to provide love, guidance, discipline, and their basic needs. This gift of Aidan and Addison is God's way reaching down from heaven and touching my life and letting me know that even among the many voices that cry out, He hears mine too. With each hug, each loving gaze, each time Aidan says, "I love you mommy" out of the blue...I know, without a doubt, God is saying, "Girl, I have your back."

Monday, January 18, 2010

Popcorn for dinner

Ya know...if I hear one more person say, "But you're eating for two!" I am going to pitch a fit. K, seriously? Two? The other person I am eating for is barely a pound. Is that really considered TWO? I mean, come on. If I was eating for two, I'd give birth to an elephant. Really, people. When someone is pregnant, they are not eating for two. They are eating for one, plus like an eighth at the most. I'm not changing my diet to include frivolous binges that are only going to my hips, not the little nugget inside. I really don't want a crane to take me to the hospital to give birth. Good Lord, I'm having popcorn for dinner.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Frickin contractions

So off I went to Mary Birch, yet again. I started feeling contractions and pre-term labor signs a few days ago, but pretended they weren't there. I mean, come on. I KNEW what was going to happen if I called the doc. "Yeah, why don't you head on over to triage at Mary Birch." And that's exactly what they told me. And boy did I call it. Monitor, check. Turb shot, check. More contractions and another turb shot, check. You're not doing so well, we're going to have to admit you, check. Same old song and dance. I knew it. That's why I put it off. But my therapist got the better of me. "Just call," she says. You kind of NEED to. So I did.

But thankfully, my stay was short-lived and only 24 hours long this time. And THANKFULLY this time I have competent doctors taking care of me. Not too aggressive treatment this time, they say. Since in the past, you carried to term. God bless them. So now I am back home in my own bed, with my own bathroom, a toothbrush, and my sanity. Pretty important these days. Oh yes, and my little monkey is happy too of course.

Off to a good night's sleep without the high-pitched beep of an IV to wake me up at 3am. Yesss...

Thursday, January 14, 2010

I know, I'm crazy

It seems like I was happy to find out I was pregnant. Maybe it was a fa├žade to trick myself into believing it. This pregnancy was definitely a surprise, but I at least thought I was happy about it. But now at 5 months, I really just hate it. Not the baby, the pregnancy. Everywhere in my body hurts. Yes, even there. I take antidepressants just to make it through the day and still, I feel more like I'm carrying a burden than the joy so many other women feel during this time. I just want it to be over and done with. Over and done with so I can start going crazy during midnight feedings and endless nights without sleep and too many tears to count. Why the hell am I doing this again?