"Sometimes I can't get past the past. That's just the woman I am."
The truth is I have always wanted to tell my story. Everyone I confide in about my crazy beautiful life says girl you need to write a book. The truth is... I don't know where to begin and I don't know that anyone would want to hear it and some of it is just too much. I recently began following Genevieve Georget on Facebook who is awesome by the way! She posts real life and encourages others to do the same. It's so easy to make a connection with her!! She recommended the book "Carry on Warrior- The Power of Embracing your messy beautiful life" by Glennon Doyle Melton. The title in itself screamed my name so I immediately downloaded the preview and even though I wanted to wait and buy the hard copy I couldn't resist and went ahead to download it on my Kindle. Instantly I felt a connection with the writer and the struggles she faces but I also felt an inspiration to at least tell some of my story.
The truth is. I tell myself you are better than this Kristin, you will rise above what you came from and make something of yourself but the truth is the past haunts me daily.
The truth is its hard to sit in a room of people talking about their parents and how they continue to guide them and their fond memories of childhood and all I can think of is what a crazy childhood I had. Flashbacks of anger from my father; kicking my mother in the stomach while pregnant with my baby brother. My father bringing home a cat, in which I was thinking was my new pet, only to learn he was taking it on the back porch to shoot it. Imagine coming home to a torn up house. Family pictures ripped, tv shattered. Imagine getting kicked out of your chair because you wanted a sandwich instead of hamburger helper for supper. Now imagine speeding down highway 64 while your father chases the car and rams into the car and nearly kills his whole family. There were good memories, but way to many detrimental moments. When I think of my childhood I want to think of climbing trees and building forts but this is where my mind wanders.
Always scared for my life. Pretty much how I lived my childhood. I slept with the covers over my neck because I was afraid someone would cut my throat in my sleep. I shut myself in my bedroom and sang Leigh Anne Rimes to the top of my lungs to drown out the world outside. Music saved me.
I no longer live my life scared of what may happen next. I refused to spend time with my father after my mother left to live in Texas when I was 15 years old. I didn't realize it then, but a 15 year old girl needs her mother. Thank God for my two wonderful grandmothers and my Godfather who pushed me dealt with me in some of those awful teenage years, they deserve a medal.
I think about how it ain't fair
That you weren't there to braid my hair like mothers do
You weren't around to cheer me on
Help me dress for my high school prom like mothers do
When she finally came back to North Carolina when I was 20 years old I was about the be married. She had some of her own personal issues she was dealing with and didn't make it to my wedding. We've gone through ups and downs she has had good days and bad days. The last year has been little or no contact and Christmas this year is going to be sad.
This 29 year old woman still needs her mother.
I had a sense of relief not having to see my father. If I thought he was near my immediate reaction was to run and hide in a closet. No one should have to live in fear of the next outrage.
When I say the struggle is real it is no lie. Daily life is a struggle. A constant argument; myself versus myself. Today we are going to survive. No today we are just going to throw in the towel. I deal with kids on a daily basis who struggle and I hope they can rise above and make something of themselves. But I know the truth is no matter how far you may rise above you never escape where you came from. Part of where I come from made me who I am today In a good way. The other part will never let me out of its grip. Most of my life I have used it as an excuse to push harder, prove I'm better, but reality is its not easy.
Imagine.. The genealogy. Maternal Grandfather alcoholic who burned in a fire. Father, many anger issues and bipolar/manic. Heredity is a bitch.
The problem is there was still a problem, I was left with a hole. When you don't forgive people, you carry that around with you forever, and constant nagging inside your soul. I lived with Hate and anger in my heart until I was 28 years old.
One day while my father was operating a Tractor he fell off paralyzed from his waist down. He was sent to the hospital and placed on an iv and diagnosed with MS. Years of anger and hate made it difficult for me to sympathize, but in the end he was my father.
Learning of my fathers MS caused me to reflect. If something were to happen to him I would be sad that I didn't ever reach out to him. He had never met his two grandchildren and it was a difficult decision to have them near him. After all, he had let me down and the last thing I wanted was to let him in our lives again only to be disappointed. But the torment of hating and holding a grudge for all these years mixed with fear that something might happen to him caused me to open my heart. We went to visit him and he was able to meet the kids. I'm still so hurt over the years of pain in my childhood but forgiving him helped me heal my heart, just a little.
And I’ve cursed your name
I’ve tried to numb the pain
There’s no whiskey, there’s no pills
To change the way it feels
And I’ve prayed and prayed
For it to go away
There’s only one thing left for me to do
I forgive you