I used to be under the naïve impression that we were all put on this earth for a purpose, that God had forged out lives ahead for us and it was just a matter of faith; just a matter of putting our hands into our father’s and saying to Him, “I trust you with you my life. Lead me.”
I will not deny that I have done pretty great things in my short life, seen amazing sites, met incredible people. How does a girl go from poverty stricken Alberta, hiding from her drunken father at the age of three to nearly thirty years later sitting across from one of the the greatest boxers alive in his own home in Michigan nearly years later? I have been around the world more than once for work and for pleasure, have met amazing friends ands acquaintances, have served, have been served, have felt full to the brim and overflowing with love and on that same token felt my heart broken beyond recognition. I have laughed as many tears of joy as of pain and despair.
I have travelled to countries overflowing with abundance and to countries living in absolute poverty. I gave my life to God. My heart was hurting. My heart was shattered. I had nobody. I chalked it up to a gift of resiliency and continued to spend my life’s work with kids and adults alike going through difficult times of their own. “If God can bring me through the hell I’ve been through….” and “ Life sucks for real so why not have God on your side to get through it.”
I feel like a fraud. I don’t believe God even wanted me alive in the first place. I have slipped through the cracks. I shouldn’t be here. Everything I did while I was a youth pastor or a teacher or a speaker or youth worker is all for nothing because look at me now. God has left me, forgotten about me. I pray and hear silence. Even for grace… nothing. My parents never wanted me yet I was the kid that cause them no grief, got straight As I got a degree, worked through University, never drank or did drugs, never dated, worked to play sports to stay out of trouble, took care of my brother, I watched a trauma at least one per year without blinking.
I shouldn’t be here and lately the thoughts are getting stronger. The things that are happening are getting harder to push through. I have no support left; nobody to help me navigate; the income has officially stopped and with it any hope of getting treatment will go with it . And with that, any hope of getting back to life, to the world, to myself, to work.
This is not who I was two years ago and I miss her. Everybody misses her. Nobody calls. Nobody emails. Nobody texts. Once the social convener, now the social pariah, my mouth is getting sore from the smile I’m forced to fake.
The circle of life. I hate to give my parents credit but I have given in to their assessment. I will and have failed and amounted to nothing. I will fail. Even therapy. I have failed. Trust nobody.
My parents have done nothing good for me. Nothing. They have have have belittled me, beat me, tortured me, neglected me, stolen from me, guilted me, and the list goes on but all in all, they have not been parents. I have no family. In my sane brain, when the chatter is off, I know it needs to stop, I know I need to put them to rest. But it’s not that simple. If it was, I’d flip that switch and move on. Why the bell do I feel allegiance to the people that hated me, deems me worthless from day one, strapped me, burnt me with lighters, put guns to my head, gave me silent treatments, left me for days, told me I was stupid and ugly. Why? Because they are my parents.
And it should have been me.