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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/836902-Grow-up
Rated: E · Book · Experience · #1944628
I will share the many thoughts that invade my introspective soul.
#836902 added December 22, 2014 at 4:15pm
Restrictions: None
Grow up
It takes a while to grow up. I had been reading a book written by my good friend Dick Olson. It talked about how roles have changed. And after I read half I found myself saying amen over and over amidst anguish and wondering how I will spend the rest of my life.

When my parents grew up men and women knew their place. Dad was forever in work mode pulling in the overtime. He seemed distant and unavailable. I knew he loved me, because he was there in my darkest time. At the same time I did not know how he felt until I risked saying that I loved him. It knocked him off balance. He was more into trying to show it than talk about it. Mom was a very brilliant person. She could have graduated college and made something of herself. She grew up in a time when most women were supposed to be moms and she longed for nothing else raising up eight kids.

They were turbulent years growing up. A lot of the time I wondered how they could stay married. It hurt to see them fight. Divorce was not an option.

I move forward and see that women are more likely to be working with their husbands in all manner of work. Cindy made quite a bit more money than me as an Occupational therapist. I was the prototypical minister, even that was to change. The clincher was the divorce. Cindy had seen the damage our marriage was causing and put an end to the misery. I admit to being a very large part of that. I tended to want to rewrite the rules about what it meant for her to be faithful and committed and she felt betrayed, because at her core being that was who she was.

I wish Cindy well even if I hurt. She is going to be a minister. All through ministering with her, people were all remarking how she should be one. My daughter is striving to get a doctorate in chemistry. She would not have done that twenty years earlier. I am proud of what she can do. I am a security guard and yet I finding out I can be more real, open to emotions that have long been dormant, playful and growing. Maybe it is not too late to grow up.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/836902-Grow-up