In my heart, I know that I’m not the most in tune person with rational thoughts and feelings. When you have to remember to be emotional, when it isn’t second nature, life makes little sense most of the time. That’s not to say that I don’t have rampant emotions like the next person, but more in how I process them. Fear I process well. If I’m scared, or the stability of my security is shaken, then all I can do is feel. Feel and fear.
We grew up in a rather unorthodox way, but we survived it. There are plenty of scar tissue that dictates this functioning adults entire way of thinking. Sometimes I even attribute my ability to survive now because of the sheer madness we grew up in. This rambling does have a point, I promise. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in fear because if nothing else, I know how to survive. I’m damn good at day to day struggles. I just happen to suck at everything else.
In the last half of 2013, my life changed over, and over, and over again. The weight on my shoulders grew. A new life would be welcomed into my home, but not before a four week nightmare that left many concerns over health and well being. The job I once loved changed and left me feeling inadequate and belittled. My failures as a parent became obvious when I spent my days at my job and not tending to the child who so desperately needed my attention. Do to his free reign, he now has a record that will haunt him until adult hood with multiple misdeeds. I lost a close relationship that meant everything to me because I had to let go. I started another relationship that ended many others.
I’ve never been afraid of change. To this day if I’ve been in one location too long, I get an overwhelming urge to pack. To fit everything that I can in my car so I can just go. I have run away from my life so many times, it’s amazing that I’ve been in the same town for seven years. This anxiety, that used to make me find a new location to start over, has sat in my chest waiting to explode for at least five of those seven years. This desire to possess nothing that I can’t carry or fit in a vehicle, because then no one can take it from me. I’m the only woman in the world afraid to own fancy shoes because they’d get lost on my next ‘run’.
It’s not a lack of support system. I have the most amazing sisters, one in particular, I’d simply have folded the cards along time ago had she not been the rock that she is. A best friend of twenty some years that has held my hands, bought my kids shoes, and sat up with me at an ER when I had to make a choice that was beyond difficult. I’ve made new friends and created a new external family that I genuinely love and care for.
And yet, in my struggles, in my head, I fail. I failed the children who can’t ever do anything outside the walls of their home because I had far too much pride to file for child support and a strong belief that he wouldn’t pay anyway. I live, and raise my children off hard work and the grace of God.
When choices come between paying for your home, or paying for your car that takes you to your job, how do you make them? When feeding your family chicken leg quarters for most nights of the month because they’re 79 cents a pound, and vegetables are a splurge, how do you accept hearing a child say their hungry? When you fall behind and it effects those who helped you, how do you live with yourself? When people say they’re happy to help, then the help isn’t there, it jades you just a little. It does me anyway.
I know that I’m not alone in these struggles. There are millions of families out there right now that are making choices much like mine. Today I’m just exhausted. I work hard, I love my children, I’m a good person, and yet I can’t guarantee that I’ll have a car that isn’t repossessed, or a home that will continue to be mine. I asked for prayers on Facebook because I need them. I need a miracle to happen. I thought about putting a Paypal donation button, but then I thought to myself how many people out there have already lost their car. Whose eviction papers have already been filed, and who eat ramen instead of chicken quarters, and I just couldn’t do it.
So this is me, praying for my miracle.