Wednesday, January 09, 2013

Pray With Me

This picture, taken by Scotty, involves some ridiculous conversation after school that Martin could, or might not be able to, carry JoJo up the driveway from the bus stop about a quarter of a miles down the hill.  They all came in laughing and hooting, questioning me about supper, "What're we having?"

They always ask, even though they can smell the chili powder and see me stirring a large pot containing six pounds of pinto beans that they'd seen me soak the night before.

I always answer, "Pork chops," even though they know I don't even know what pork chops are, nor how to cook 'em.  It's just our routine.  Or I'll answer, "Ham, Spam, Chicken and Lamb," four other things I've also never cooked.

Then we eat supper super early because if we didn't do so then they'd snack too much and not be hungry for what I'd cooked.  "Y'all can snack afterwards," I always say, because I wanna at least fill them up first with something I know is good for them.

"It's amazing how much I miss your cooking," every single grown kid has said to me at some point or another.  It's not that I cook good, it's the routine, the love and concern, the structure, the stability and security, the knowledge that someone cares enough to do it for them, even if it is soundly and even unexpectedly rejected loudly at some point.  Even that is predictable.

I can hardly tolerate reading the news headlines anymore - they're either horrific, overly-sensationalistic, ridiculously speculative, or complete unnecessary information about celebrities.  Who cares?  I wanna scream.  My time is too limited to care about who broke up with who.

Dee's blog post about the lack of real men had me laughing in agreement, I've added a ton of home DIY blogs for me to read, and begin to learn from, I love Facebook, and I don't care that it's uncool to be so open in my love for it, and I eagerly read Marc and Angel Hack Life.  Today it was about 12 things you should never stop doing.  It nailed me, recriminations against my own self abounding.

Lighten up, Cindy, get a grip, it hollered at me.  Or maybe that was my own conscience acting up again.

It spoke to me oh so loudly as I've had a tormented decade and a pretty tough 15 years even before this last decade.

Keep taking deep breaths.  Don’t allow yourself to be crippled by stress and anger.  Everything is only as it is.  There’s no reason to let it destroy you.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Relax.  Let every moment be what it’s going to be.  What’s meant to be will come your way, what’s not will fall away.  And remember that a wonderful gift may not always be wrapped as you expect.  Read Radical Acceptance.

Radical Acceptance was written by a psychotherapist and Buddhist and is about recovering from trauma.  Hmmm.

Athens, the next town over, has a daily newspaper, and I read a crime blurb report that had me shaking my head in a BTDT agreement.

The mother said her 8 year old son left after cursing at her for threatening to take away a device from him, according to police. He was found about 10 minutes later outside the store.
After hearing the woman’s story about how her son constantly acts up at home and in school, the officer decided to apply for a juvenile court warrant charging the boy as an unruly child.
“His behavior at such a young age is troubling and intervention of some sort is needed,” the officer wrote in an incident report.

Every comment that followed was a stupid one about how the mom should spank the kid.

No one has a clue as to the mental health components that may have been involved.  I spent an entire decade or more with at least one child, if not others, acting out and raging violently at the same time.  It didn't matter where we were, at a store, in church, on the soccer field, in a waiting room.  It'd be BAM! and on like Donkey Kong, I rarely ever saw it coming.  That's what a temper dysregulation episodes looked like.

That everything now, even with teenagers who have some behavioral or emotional issues, is so much better, is indicative regarding how bad it was back then, when even these particular teenagers breathe a sigh of relief aloud over the fact that we have almost no explosions ever...oh my, I really don't know how we survived the previous years.

But see?

I'm again ignoring the advice to just let it go.  I believe it is a process, I am working on it, I know I'm rattled to my core, and I know I've been seriously damaged.

I hate that the 12 kids living here ever had to live under such demoralizing and dangerous conditions.

I will keep reading, learning, and trying to get better, I really am trying hard enough to break a sweat.

CW went with some friends to an all-you-can-eat for $2 place after school and I sweated like crazy waiting for him to get home.  I have so much inner fear that I used to never have and I'm driving myself bonkers about it.  This worry wart attitude is ridiculous.  I know better.

This morning I'm more concerned over a friend, Elizabeth, whose son is undergoing surgery in Atlanta, making my struggles petty in contrast.  As I awake each morning, my first thought always involves my tasks, appointments or whatever, God immediately reminded me to pray for Elizabeth and her son, and as I type this I know he's being prepped for surgery.

Y'all wanna pray with me for him?