Light,Growth, and Perfection.

As I mentioned in a previous post, it took a long time to reach the acceptance and satisfaction I have with my life. To understand that statement, my journey needs to be better explained.

My mother was diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic shortly after my older sister's birth; I never knew the "sane" version of my mother (I consider myself fortunate I didn't watch her decline). My life was lived for her, as was my grandmother's wishes, we "accommodated" whatever her whims were so as not to upset her. This accommodating led to her free rein over my childhood. My younger sister was terribly sickly and our dad spent most of his off time in hospitals with her because my mother couldn't handle the burden. This left me with my mother when she was unmedicated, insane, and  she was never held accountable. Many terrible things happened to me and left terrible emotional scars. I was a skilled thief because my mom always seemed to forget little kids need to eat. I also was, and still am, very good with directions and maps. I knew how to "find my way" back home. I struggled early on with detecting "reality" from "fiction" and refused to watch cartoons at an early age simply because I knew they weren't "real." I was not disciplined and made my own rules; in short, I was an obnoxious, spoiled brat. My adolescence was terrible. I became a "woman" much earlier than most girls did and this led my mother to believe other worldly things were happening (think the movie Carrie where she burns the school down with everyone in it). My teen years brought on another pursuit after "truth" and religion. I wanted desperately to have unconditional love and god was the answer. I strove for perfection and wore myself down quickly. I joined a cult hiding under the "christian" blanket and worked harder than humanly possible to become worthy of the lord. At 15, I met the boy who would become the man I married a year later at 16. I was disgusted with myself for disappointing "god" with my pregnancy and shot-gun wedding. Ever the inquisitive (I will question people to the point of insanity) type, I led myself away from the cult I had dragged my husband and then 2 children into some 8 years later. My mother's decline had progressively gotten worse and her range was over 3 states. Many of my days were spent chasing her over the countryside. My husband and I took temporary custody of my baby sister due to my mother's illness and the situations she was putting my sister in. I found myself still searching for god and spiraling down into a terrible depression.

At 25, I became pregnant with our twins and the economy crashed. My mother still was at the forefront of my struggles, but now alongside losing everything we had. My husband had his own struggles he needed to overcome and his no longer being my "stability" took me over the brink of sanity. When my twins were 18 months old, I looked at them with disdain and blamed their birth on the current turmoil our lives were in. A few weeks later, we decided to sell everything but the clothes on our back and move 1100 miles away. Many accused us of "running away" from our problems, but I am forever grateful we had the courage to leave.

It wasn't easy leaving everything we both had known and taking our children away from all they had known either. We successfully left behind most of our "problems," except my mother. She walked the 1100 miles here; however she did hitchhike, got raped and the man attempted her murder. He dropped her body in the woods in Tennessee, but tough as she is, she came around, crawled to a light in the distance, and drug herself onto an elderly couples porch; they called 911. After a 6 day hospital stay, she was back on the road to my house. 

After years of blaming god and everyone else for my hardships, I decided to "find" myself I had buried years before. I realized god wasn't for me, but finding myself was the tricky part. I started by claiming how I felt from one day to the next. I didn't allow myself the generic "fine" I really identified how I felt. Three months of that before I finally could identify with my feelings. I realized I had built a fortress of emotionless "strength." My strength was truly weakness because it was false. I had lived a life for someone else and denied myself any growth. Never had I done what I wished, desired, or wanted. I didn't love and was driven by fear; fear of life, death, failure, and success. I didn't know how to do anything, I was crippled and it was self inflicted.

Looking back, I know it was me that endured these hardships, but it wasn't "me" that shouldered them. I blamed others not accepting I was the one that said "yes." When I was tired, weak, burdened, or downright exhausted, still I said "yes." I allowed others' burdens to overshadow my own. I extended my own neck out on the chopping block. 

I have learned from my life. I have learned to say "no" and when to say "yes." I no longer strive for perfection because I know I am perfect. Perfect for the life I live. Perfect for my husband. Perfect for my children. Perfect for the world. I used to see my mother as a direct reflection of myself. I now know she is her own. She too is perfect; perfect for her life. While she still needs my help and I freely give it, I do allow her to suffer the consequences of her actions; this has lifted yet another burden from me. I have let her sit in jail and serve her time, I have gone to courts and made her go to the hospital, and I have learned to not feel guilty about it. I can only do what I can do when I can do it. That has become my motto.

Oh what freedom to escape my self-inflicted trials!