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Welcome to my blog: I intend to share heartfelt writing about anything that comes to mind. |
| Personal: The last 3 days have been extremely busy. My roommate's uncle was here from Texas Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday I had another Dr appointment. It was a gynecologist. I ended up being in the office 3 hours. I feel like I was put through the wringer. Maybe I will get some answers finally though. I feel kind of exhausted today, so I am going to rest and write. At least that is my plan. I had to have a full pelvic exam, pap smear, and endometrial biopsy done. Let me tell you that is no fun. I had to do a urine test and bloodwork. The Dr thinks part of my problem at least may be that that my body is trying to go into menopause and my hormones are off-balance. So she did the blood work to check hormone levels to see if her hunch is right. It may take up to 2 weeks to get all the test results back. Hopefully it is good news and nothing too serious that can't be fixed. On top of everything else going on, there is road construction on the highway right next to the apartment complex, and it is loud. I will be glad when they are done with that. I wish construction people had to follow the city noise ordinance too, but apparently they don't. Nothing like hearing the pavement get torn up at 3 and 4 in the morning. 😬 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Prompt for August 24th Prompt: Do you think people in general still value the teachings found in the Bible? Answer: I don't think Biblical principles are valued like they once were. I am not so sure we are not experiencing the great falling away that was supposed to happen in the last days. Bible prophesies seem to be taking place right before our eyes. Prompt for August 25th Prompt: Is it better to pray with your eyes open or closed, and why? Do you have a favorite prayer stance or position? Answer: I don't think it matters one way or the other as long as your heart is right. Most of the time I have my daily prayer time relaxing on my bed. Prompt for August 26th Prompt: What was the spiritual life like of your family while growing up? What would you have liked to have had different about it? Would you keep it the same? Answer: My parents were professing Christians. We went to church every time the door was open. I had a drug problem. My parents drug me to church every time. Anyway, Dad also was a preacher and read a minimum of 3 chapters a night from the Bible to the family. We prayed before every meal and snack. My grandmother even prayed before she took her medicine at night. I went to a private school so I could get a Christian education. Now I wish I could say we had a great family life, but we didn't. I don't like focusing on the negative, but I think this is good for me to write about this and try to put it into perspective. This might be a little long, but I want to be honest with myself about this one. I wish dad would have taught me how to have a personal devotion time daily instead of just reading to me. I wish he would have taught me to fast and seek God for myself instead of acting like his word was God's Word. I wish he would have been more willing to admit when he was wrong instead of pretending to be perfect. I wish he would not have spoke falsely behind the pulpit to see if he could get a rise out of someone to give him feedback. I wish he would have been more honest. I wish he had been more emotionally supportive instead of standoffish. I wish he would have been more tender and caring instead of sharp and talking down to me. I wanted to connect with him emotionally but he had invisible walls up that would keep everyone out. If you wanted a decent conversation with him, talk about food or the Bible. Don't get too personal. Sometimes it drives me crazy when people don't realize this is the kind of relationship we had. They say he was such a sweet man. He might have been on the surface as long as you didn't get too close to him. However, toward me and my mom, he spoke down to us a lot. Women were treated like second-class citizens. We were to be seen and not heard. We were supposed to make him look good. We couldn't make the preacher look bad. My behavior wasn't about me. It was about him. Don't get me wrong. I loved my dad very much. Behind the scenes, he could be very hard though. Mom was an enabler. She put herself down. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. All of their relationship issues were all her fault. People don't know how many times I sat listening to her cry in private. She built him up while a lot of times, he tore her down. She loved him so much, she would give him the closet space while her clothes were in baskets. She worshipped the ground he walked on so to speak. Momma wasn't perfect either. She had an explosive temper. She would take so much and then she would explode into a child-like fit of rage. She would scream and throw things around. She would also give the silent treatment sometimes. I remember one day when I was around 8 years old, mom and dad were arguing. I thought to myself, “I act more grown-up than she is right now.” Mom was nurturing, but she was strange. I am not convinced she didn't have some kind of mental issue. As far as I know, it was never confirmed but doctors had suspected she might be bipolar. She cried a lot and struggled with anxiety and depression. It was kind of like dad was a narcissist and mom was the co-dependant. I did find out after dad died that he had dyslexia. I never knew until my aunt told me at his memorial service. Maybe that explains some of it, but we were dysfunctional and there wasn't any fun in it. Dad was king and we were his subjects. We were supposed to be a Christian family, but the focus was on Dad. I can not say for sure that it was intentionally that way, but it was that way rather it was intentional or not. This created some bitterness and confusion for me. As the only daughter of a preacher in this kind of situation, it was tough. I was the black and white sheep. I think I was viewed more black sheep than white sheep though. I felt like I could never be good enough. I rebelled. Now mom did teach me more than dad did. She taught me how to cook and clean. She showed me how to use Bible study helps to look things up that I wanted to know about the Bible. She taught me how to draw. She is the one I got the most help with my homework from. As I got older, I refused to let dad help me with schoolwork because we would end up fighting over it. However, she enabled dad to abuse me. At times, she would help hold me down while he hit me on my arms, legs, bottom, back, and just where ever he could hit me. Sometimes these beatings would last 30 to 45 minutes. I would often try to hide in my room when I knew dad was in a bad mood. That didn't always work though. He would barg into my room, bang on the door, and tell at me. He would put me down. Sometimes I think he started an argument with me just to have an excuse to hit me. I had no escape. A lot of times, I would read books to go to another time and place far away from there. I huffed whiteout and anything I could get my hands on as a teenager. I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live like that either. I just wanted to escape the emotional pain I was in. I learned to cope by disassociation as well. I would be physically present, but mentally I would go somewhere else while these bad things were happening. I wish life was more like Christ and less a put on show. I think that is why I am so blunt now. I don't like fakeness. I don't like to pretend to be something I am not. |
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