Sunday Confessions: Hope

  Hope. There have been moments in my life that I've had no hope at all. I just wanted to give up and throw in the towel. Life sucked. I didn't see it ever getting any better. 

  It felt like I was in a boxing match with life and it was beating the shit out of me. I kept waiting for the referee to ring the bell to stop the fight before life finally killed me, but the ref was no where to be found. 

  I wanted to lay there and just take the beating, since I had no hope of things ever changing. I didn't believe I deserved any better than what I was getting. 

  Maybe I had talked smack about life before the match and he heard about it. Maybe he was pissed at me for being ungrateful for the chances he'd given me in the past. Maybe he decided that this time, he was either going to beat some sense into me, or kill me trying. 

  Maybe this time, he was going to bring me to my knees and make me see that things could only go up from here. 

  I was at my lowest. I wanted to die. I waited for life to take the final blow. I was ready. I closed my eyes and prepared myself. All hope was lost. I had nothing to keep fighting for. I braced myself for the punch. 

  But he didn't do it. He leaned down and kissed my forehead and whispered "Don't give up..keep fighting..there's still hope left."  

  I left the ring bruised and battered. I could barely stand. I could hardly function. I walked outside and felt the sun shining on my face. The warm, soothing sun. Oh, how I had missed that sun. 

  Suddenly, I could feel my heart beating again. I could feel it trying to put the shattered pieces back together. 

 Maybe there was hope left for me after all. 

  

Sunday Confessions:Forget

  What comes to mind when you think of the word forget? As for me, many things come to mind. 

  The one that stands out the most, is the fact that I've gotten to that age where I forget everything. I literally forgot my own age. Seriously. I had to count back from the year I was born. That's sad, I know.

   I couldn't remember if I was 37 going on 38, or if I was going to be turning 37 on my next birthday. 

   I'm not sure if it's a combination of motherhood and age, or just my age. 

   It seems like the instant I hit 35, my memory ran away. It not only ran away, it hasn't returned since. 

   I'm always forgetting what day of the week it is. I use my calendar on my iPod more than I do anything else. 

   I left my house once and forgot my shoes. That's even more sad than forgetting my age. What makes it even worse, I didn't even notice for ten minutes. I had to walk all way back with my head hung in shame to retrieve them. 

   I guess you can blame that on growing up in the South. Growing up, we only wore shoes when we went to school or out somewhere. 

   To top off this beautiful platter of memory loss, my boyfriend has the worst memory around. He is no help whatsoever. He expects me to remember stuff for him! 

   It's almost like he's forgotten that I forget EVERYTHING. 

   I'm constantly checking burners to make sure I turned them off only minutes before. I can never remember. Ever. 

   I'm worried one day I'll forget my own name. If I do, someone please remind me that it's Chasity. 

  And now I have forgotten where I was going with this post... 

Dear Mom.

Dear Mom, 

 I'm writing this because some things are just so hard to say. 

When ever I try to speak, my tears always get in the way. 

I'm really not sure where to even start. 

I guess I should begin by saying, I love you with all of my heart. 

The thought of not having you.. it rips me in two. 

I'm just not ready to let go of you. 

But that seems so selfish for me to even say. 

Because I can't imagine how you must feel day to day. 

Every time I hear you cry, it's like a part of me is dying inside. 

I nearly choke on my anguish, and I want to run and hide. 

I don't want to face what I know is surely to come in time. 

I don't want to even picture you gone from my life. 

If I could somehow take away the pain you feel every day, 

I'd do it in an instant.. I would make it all go away. 

If I could heal you with my love, I'd do that too. 

If I could take away your fears, I'd take them all from you. 

Every day I wonder, is this it? Is the day my life will change? 

That's always in my mind, and it's driving me insane. 

But this shouldn't be all about me, it should be about you. 

I just never know  what to say, I don't know what to do. 

I want to lay my head on your chest, and hear you say it's all right. 

I want to scream and yell for you to not give up! To please fight! 

I can't even fully express how badly I hurt for you all the time. 

Even now I am blinded by tears, it seems like I'm always crying. 

I don't know how you do it, mom. You are the strongest woman I know. 

Through out all of this, you've hardly let your fear show. 

I can't begin to understand the decisions you've been forced to make. 

I can't comprehend the hurt you must feel, the fear or the pain. 

But what I do know, is that you mean the world to me. 

And without you here, my heart will feel empty. 

I'm sorry mom, for all the stupid things I said as a kid. 

I'm sorry for any pain I ever caused, any bad thing I ever did. 

But mostly, I'm sorry I can't help you now.. I can't change all this. 

I can't stop time, turn it back, or erase it all with a wish. 

I just want you to know one last thing, before I bring this to an end. 

You are not just a mother to me, you're also my best friend. 

I hope you never feel alone, because you are not. 

Even hundreds of miles away, I'm right there.. In your heart. 

 

                             Love, 

                           Chasity 

Sunday Confessions: Without

Without.. That's a word that could take this post anywhere.

 It could lead to funny conversations, like the time I left home without my shoes and didn't even notice for nearly ten minutes. 

It could lead to deep conversations, like how I'd be lost without my family. 

But instead, I'm going to write about me without caffeine. 

How can I best describe me without caffeine? Hmmm. Let me put it this way. I'm a bitch. A total bitch. I'm grumpy. Moody. I'll rip your head off over the least little thing. 

Let's say you breath too loudly around me. I will look so deeply into your eyes, with an evil look, and curse your very ancestors for creating you. I will practically breath fire at you. Burning you to cinders. 

Ok, I'm getting a little carried away. But you get my point. Me without caffeine is not a pretty picture. 

I'm hooked. I'm an addict. A caffeine junkie. Is there rehab for caffeine addictions? No? Good! Because I don't want to be cured! 

Stripper, my boyfriend,  often harasses me over my caffeine addiction. My reply to him, "Caffeine is my ONLY weakness! I don't smoke, don't drink, don't do drugs! I could be addicted to much worse stuff! Let me enjoy this, dammit!" 

Rise, all my fellow caffeine addicts! Let's rejoice! Then let's enjoy a tall glass of whatever your caffeine preference is. Mine is Coca Cola. 

Excuse me while I go open a cold can of happiness. 

Sunday Confessions: The Gas Epidemic

 

During my eighth month of pregnancy with Mini, I began going to the doctor three times a week. My pregnancy was high-risk and I had a lot of complications. My doctor was about an hour away from where we lived. 

Anyhow, I had to take the Metro there and back, which was a three hour trek because I had to wait on the next bus, etc. 

I would usually leave our apartment at 6am, and not get back home until 5 or 6 that evening. I was always exhausted.  

One morning during my ninth month, I was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office. I was my usual dog-ass tired. Plus, I was experiencing so much gas. Just so much. Apparently I dozed off in that overcrowded, tiny room. 

I felt someone gently shaking my shoulder. It was a nurse. I guess they had been calling my name. I noticed that the two people that had been sitting beside me were no longer there. They were standing against the wall. 

My face immediately turned red. I knew what I had done. I could smell it. I had passed gas in my sleep. I went to get my huge body out of that tiny seat, and PASSED GAS AGAIN. 

The room was soooo damn quiet. I wanted to hide right then. Everyone looked at me and a few kids started laughing. How flippin' embarrassing. 

Let's just say, I made a point to stay awake the last few times I had to go. 

Sunday Confessions: Resilience

 Resilience is inside all of us.  Even when something unimaginable happens and you feel like it will absolutely break you, somehow you will bounce back from it. 

No matter how many times your heart gets broke, most of us will still mend it and be ready to love again. 

No matter how many times people let you down and disappoint you, most of us will be willing to trust others again. 

No matter how many times people show you their worst side, most of us will still believe there is good left in them. 

It's amazing when you think about just how resilient a human is. We can  bounce back from nearly anything. 

 I've experienced a lot of horror in my life and even when I think I am emotionally bent to my breaking point, somehow I come back from it. 

 I come back stronger. I'm better prepared for the next time something  happens. I'm resilient. 

Sunday Confessions: Rejection

 Today's topic is about rejection and although I have experienced a lot of that in my life, the one person that rejected me and hurt me the most, was my father. 

That's been on my mind quite a bit lately. Especially with Father's Day coming up in a couple weeks, and with the issues with my mom, who was forced to be a dad and a mom to me. 

My mom divorced my dad when she was pregnant with me. I only saw him a few times as a child. He moved on and found a new family. 

 When I was 12, my father took a sudden interest in me. A man that had never cared for me before, suddenly wanted me around him. 

 I was thrilled. In my young mind, I thought my dad loved me and wanted me around him so we could bond. 

Little did I know, I was about to experience the worst emotional, physical, mental and sexual abuse imaginable. 

I ask myself now, why did I allow it to continue for so long? Why didn't I tell someone sooner? Why did his acceptance mean so much to me? 

I wish I knew the answers to that. Even now, I do not. 

I do know what he put me through made me the type of person I am now. 

 Abusing someone, or even an animal, is not in me. I can't even say cruel things to anyone. I know first hand how badly it hurts. Instead, I try to always show kindness. To show love. To show acceptance. 

As some of you know, I write poetry as well. Below you'll find a poem I wrote for my father. Writing is the only release I have. It's what kept me from going insane. 

"How dare you help create me, and then just walk out on me?

Never once did you try to make me a part of your new family. 

Instead I was an outcast, I was never good enough. 

I could never please you, never earn your fatherly love. 

But your hatred and resentment was as clear as the light of day. 

I saw in your eyes every single time you looked my way. 

I felt it with the beatings you felt I so richly deserved. 

It was in your voice every time you ever uttered a word. 

Yet  I was desperate for your love, for your acceptance of me. 

But your heart held no love..it was dark , cold and empty. 

Instead of allowing your cruelty to turn me into a person like you, 

I became better, I'm able to love..which was more than you could ever do. "

I will end my post with this: Rejection hurts. I don't care who you are or how old you are, it's painful and it's tough to deal with.