It didn't always used to be like this...lonely. Steve used to say when we would argue that I had no idea what it felt like to have friends that were my best, who knew me for many many years, friends like his Gary and Phil. The truth is I did. I had four of the best friends I could've ever asked for. What happened? They left and I didn't call. Even after that I had friends, I did. They weren't really the best influences but they were friends...and then there was Robert, who was a great friend. It's not about Robert and I or anyone of the friends I've had in the past. It's about the feeling of full disclosure, security. In truth, after we moved my dad was my only true friend at first. I could talk to him about anything, at least I let myself believe that I could have. And somewhere through the years, after I blew up with him in that fight it stopped. He stopped being my friend; caring how my day was or what I had planned for later on.
There used to be a picture and if I close my eyes I can see exactly who was in it. My sister. Jonathan. Francis. It was Thanksgiving. It used to be just us and at least one friend. Having family is supposed to be the same feeling as when you have those friends you've known your whole life; people who love you no matter what, who accept you for who you are, and never leave you to fend for yourself...not ever.
I know exactly what it feels like. I'm not some weirdo person who never had a family or friends, who grew up singing to the clouds and twirling her hair while talking to her imaginary friend even after she turned twenty. I'm normal, at least I was. Somewhere along the line I've lost every person I've loved and who I thought loved me.
I guess I must like to torture myself, but I swear I didn't know the movie I just watched was going to be quite like that. "Pieces of April" with Katie Holmes. It was, at best, a sad truth that I felt extremely familiar with, except the end.
I wish I could hear his voice again; to go back to the days where he wasn't afraid of me, where he would genuinely hug me like nothing else around me mattered except making me feel safe. I wish I could go back to the days when it was just us that the two dollar theatre watching boring movies that I'd fall asleep in, but it was ours. We'd pop popcorn at home and sneak it in dad's jacket while I had candy in my purse, of course red licorice because that was dad's favorite. It was just us and sometimes I miss it. He was my friend more than anything, someone I thought would never, or could never turn his back on me.
The truth is that I feel guilt and shame. I know that these things have happened, especially in the past few years the damage that has happened to our relationship and to several friendships has been because of me, because what I am currently. I've damaged them and some I'll have to live with knowing will never be the same.
Thanksgiving always makes me think of that picture. We were baking cookies. Lol. We were teenagers but we were baking cookies and Ashley was wearing a light yellow sweater and was standing up next to that old table we used to have that was technically like a picnic table but a little nicer. It's not that I want to go back and it just be us, the three of us again, it's that I want so badly to feel that feeling again...unconditionally love. See that's the thing about betrayal though. It's a funny thing because when betrayal happens everything gets ripped away from you. The memories you thought were real become lies, feelings you once had now seem stupid because you thought you were someone special who deserved things like that.
For Steve Thanksgiving is about family, eating, celebrating, gathering. It's the same for me, however, I don't have that luxury. I am no victim, as I said earlier, but what I would give to feel that again and to be real, and true, and honest. I know the second I step in his mom's house I'll feel pressure. Pressure to smile and be exactly what I'm supposed to be. I'm supposed to be sad or upset or have any feelings like these. I'm supposed sit around that table and feel what those people feel...but I don't. I've been betrayed by them and I would sit there and want so badly believe that they loved me unconditionally and that they would do anything for me because afterall "that's what family does". I know the second that he and I aren't together anymore, the second they walk away from me too and I wonder, "if we hadn't gone to see Dr. Archie and wanted to work on things, would I be sitting at this table?"
See, I was trying to stand up to him that night we fought. I had taken so much of his crap. I was ten when we moved to South Carolina and already I was playing mom and once Ashley became pregnant with Caleb at 17, well, she left. She had to start her own family, but she left us, she left me. He wasn't a horrible dad, he was so funny, and I used to get so mad when he'd try to make me laugh or to tell me to calm down if I misplaced something and I couldn't find it. But that night was the first time I had ever had the opportunity to stand up to him and I choked. He was in my face screaming how ungrateful I was for everything he'd done for me, for Ashley. He'd thrown a stack of bills at me and told me how we almost lost our house. I was, in my own way, protecting my voice, protecting myself...at least I was trying to.
And when I left and got my own apartment when my husband and I seperated I was trying to do the same thing. He'd been hurting me, mentally, most importantly spiritually and much like my dad I felt forced to stay there with no other alternatives. And when God gave me that opportunity to stand up for myself again, I took it because it was the right thing to do for me and in the long run for him too, but I lost my family because I was trying to protect myself.
And none of them will talk to me about it. They'll pretend that it happened differently. They'll all find some common excuse or reason to believe that I was the one who did everything and they did nothing wrong. The difference is I said sorry and I kept saying sorry; to my dad, to them. None of them, including my dad has every truly said sorry for walking out, for abandoning me. I know why. Pride. They'll owe me nothing because I'm not holier than thou or higher than anyone else. They'll owe me nothing because I was wrong too. All I want is a promise. A promise of that feeling the picture brings me everytime I think of it. I don't want gifts or stories or excuses. I want them to take ownership for their part; to really analyze and humble themselves and allow God to show them how they were wrong, and then I want a simple apology followed with a promise.
See God gave me this whole big family but unless I fall unto them every time, losing my voice, strangling my choices, they leave. It's always been easier to leave one person behind than to stand up against more than that.
If I could ask for just one thing for Christmas and it come true. It would be to have that feeling again. The feeling that a best friend that knew me so well; like Ian, like Jessica, like Stephanie, like Robert gives you. That feeling you get when you sit at a table full of people who have been there your whole life and has known all your stories and all your phases and loves you unconditionally. Steve will get there I know he will. He's already grown so much in figuring me out and the way he tries to make me smile is worth more than most other things, but if I could ask for one thing...it would be that honestly.
Sorry for the negative nancy but I felt like I had to before I fell even farther. Glory to God! For He is my true family, my true friend. He has never forsaken me, nor has He ever left or betrayed me. I am truly thankful for Him.
No comments:
Post a Comment