Potholes

by rheeb

I have had some very good days lately.  I stood in the mirror after a shower, and I had an incredibly good conversation with myself.  I ended it by letting myself know how I’m going to make a conscious choice to accept every part of me.  And this has had me on a high until two days ago.  I have been reading a lot of books, and a few days ago, I finally finished reading Peace From Broken Pieces by Iyanla Vanzant.

I’m at a loss for words, suddenly.

…Her daughter, Gemmia, was her right hand.  Gemmia did everything for Iyanla–to the sacrifice of herself.  When she was around thirty years old, Gemmia was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer, and as she was dying, she began exhibiting rage towards Iyanla.  Once Gemmia died, Iyanla spent months reading Gemmia’s journals (she kept detailed journals for years, just like me).  And as Iyanla read her daughter’s journals, she realized how much Gemmia sacrificed herself for Iyanla.  She realized that she was a horrible mother and that all Gemmia ever wanted to do was to be loved by her.  I’m not sure if this was in one of the journals or not, but there was a point in which Gemmia mentioned that she helped build her mother’s dream, but was never thanked.  Instead, her husband (now ex-husband) was publically thanked by Iyanla, and he did absolutely nothing.

And that is when my week-long high transformed into a low simmer.  Gemmia is me.  I have done everything I could do to get Cod to love me, and I have done this my entire life.  Nark used to be a contractor (a horrible one, but nonetheless), and they had a business together.  Thing is, Nark was terrible at contracting, and whenever he’d start something in the house, he would never ever finish it.  When this would happen, for whatever reason, she liked to manipulate me into completing things.  For instance, Nark destroyed me and SuckaMC’s bathroom.  He did a lot of construction with no outcome.  So Cod manipulated me into peeling wallpaper and painting the bathroom with her.  I was twelve.  Anyways, there was this one time when Cod wanted a bedroom painted upstairs.  Nark doesn’t do anything when anyone wants him to, so she manipulated me into doing it.  I remember getting the paint, the brushes, the rollers, and everything ready to paint this room, and it took me an entire day.  Mind you, around this time, I was twelve/thirteen, and I didn’t have any skills at painting.  But I did my absolute best and painted the entire day.  When my mother came home, she saw the room and was so angry with me about it not being done correctly.  Just, deeply, deeply angry.  A whole day, I painted that room.  And she was upset with me, a child, that it wasn’t done professionally.  I have been heated.

So, lately, I have been extra cognizant of the manipulative things Cod does towards me.  She will be travelling at the end of December.  I said to her, “Yeah, I was thinking about leaving the same time you do.”  And she said to me, “Then who is going to watch SuckaMC?”  Pause!  SuckaMC is TWENTY years old.  She works.  She drives.  She’s fully capable of going to an adult prison if convicted of a crime.  What the fuck did that mean?  Then yesterday, Cod says, “You’re making salmon tonight, right?”  No, not right.  Would you like for me to make you some salmon?  I’m not mean, readers.  Seriously, I’m an incredibly giving person.  Just ask me.  As yesterday evening went on, she continued with this manipulation over and over again with different things.  I finally resigned myself to my bed, where, can you believe it, I slept for nearly twelve hours.  I’m certain that’s not healthy, but I had to get away.  Really, I’m tired, very, very tired of the games she plays over and over again.  The other day she apologized to me for being married to Nark.  Has she taken any steps to divorce him?  No.  Will she?  No.  She apologizes to make herself feel better–to make herself feel as though she has mended wounds, when all she’s doing is putting a cheap, non-stick bandaid on top of gaping lacerations.  I’m so angry with her–so deeply, hot, steamingly angry with her–that I could just explode.

The very interesting part of this is how I genuinely believed this “digging up” part of the journey was over.  But when I woke up yesterday morning, I felt deep, soul pain, and I was confused.  I literally felt like I had taken five steps back.  And, in tears, I said to God, “I thought this was over.  Why am I feeling this way?”  I then got on Facebook to browse my timeline when I saw Iyanla’s post, “Spirit and things of a spiritual nature do not work on your schedule.  You are in a process of spiritual unfolding.  You cannot watch the clock or the calendar.  You must watch your heart, know the truth, and be patient with your unfolding process.”  Oh, how the tears began to fall!  I felt like God sees me.  So much of the time, I feel ignored by everyone in my life, but no doubt, in that moment, God saw me.  And I can’t explain how nice it felt to realize that, no matter how much I have tried to be throughout my life, I was not in control.  I do not hold time.  I cannot see the future.  I cried and cried, in the intense knowing that I am, truly, exactly where I am supposed to be, in this moment in my life.  It’s painful and freeing all at once.  And, truly, it feels deeply comforting to know that I am being parented by God.  It’s a wonderful thing for an ACON–to know that you are being cared for and attended to.

Song of the Day: Vicar of Dibley Theme Song (I have been watching The Vicar of Dibley all morning)

Thought of the Day: Oh, Dawn French is so fucking HOT!  I can’t think of her without smiling (and this, of course, is why I began was watching VoD all day–even though I really like the show).   I also read that her bra size is 42H.  Oh, my life!

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