Dedication: To the soft-hearted, may you find peace and tranquility <3
My life is crazy. There are so many ups and downs, ripples, and waves in my timeline, to the extent motion sickness is unavoidable. When I find myself reflecting, I cry, laugh, and get angry, filled with joy and sadness. My modesty puts me in a position of clarity. I admit I could very much have it easy compared to some, others may say I’m blessed, but to the soft-hearted, to those stricken by the sorrows and pangs of the world, my story is a sad one with a few glimpses of sunshine now and again. I grew up in a Christian home with Christian family members and Christian friends. My grandmother forced me to go to church some days; other days, I was willing to go because maybe deep down, I was made to know the need of God while maintaining the faith and hope needed to survive the journey ahead. I was reticent and observant as a child, never needed anyone, nor did I have anyone to supervise me closely. I remember being home alone, standing on a stool warming up a frying pan to cook freshly picked grass I cultivated from the front lawn (I was 5yrs old). Where were the adults, you ask? I have no idea. I often look back and remember being alone. Now that I am older, I realize in my observations of good and bad parenting that the presence or absence of disciplinarians, guardians, and counselors in a child’s life are integral in developing a strong and stable individual. Having no one to wipe away, question, or effectively discuss the tears, suffering, pain, fear, and doubt experienced in life can create and leave a profound wound in a child’s heart only to deal with the repercussions of those wounds in adulthood. To make sense of my childhood, I feel as though I grew up with the supervision and protection of God; something had to be on my side, and it wasn’t my family. My parents had a toxic marriage filled with unfaithfulness and abuse, which estranged them from their three children. My grandparents raised me, and they didn’t seem to understand the dwindling confusion of “not knowing where your parents are,” which often led to emotional abuse and misunderstanding. I was rebellious and hated being “home.” Thank the Lord I was slow to anger and never got into fights; who knows where I would be today. Long story short, my patience is tested often, even to this very day. I grew up in a suburban area and went to good schools, but my home life felt like I lived in the slums or ghetto. There was a lot of cursing, profanity, unfaithfulness, judging, oppression, belittling, abuse, etc. Growing up, the “hood” or “urban” parts of the city were off-limits because of the “dangers” that existed there. Yes, I agree that social complications or issues arise from poverty and lack of resources. Still, I would often find a sense of closeness and loyalty in those very communities. Still, I couldn’t find that “for the greater good” mentality in my suburban ” white picket fence” family neighborhood. As time went on, I realized I liked being around humble, kind, and welcoming individuals over uppity middle class know it alls who think they are better than everyone else. “Privilege,” whatever that means, is nice, but at what cost? Financial stability is nice, but at what cost? Is it worth risking your life? Is it worth your sanity? Is it worth losing the security or safety of your family and home? There was an unrealistic pressure to please my grandmother, go to school, be a doctor or something amazing and give her something to brag about to her friends. Success is great, but my mother had become a manic depressive, raging, verbally abusive alcoholic. My dad was abusive and distant, suddenly developed ALS, but is still a terrible dad. Siblings are “out to lunch” doing who knows what, and I’m sticking around listening to the BS and trying to be the strong one for them. I’ve been in abusive relationships and experienced all kinds of abuse in various settings. Still, now that I readily recognize the signs of abuse, I try to avoid people with abusive, self-seeking, sociopathic tendencies. Much to my surprise, it is not so easy. The world is full of them. On the flip side, many people hurt the same and feel the same pain and disappointment. Those who want to heal and those who want peace and love don’t seek to wage war with everyone around them while simultaneously being an emotional arsonist in everything they do. I have seen therapists and have talked to friends and family, but no one seemed to have the information. The only place I could find such peace was in the Holy Bible. Say what you want, whether you are atheist or not; that book has some beautifully written verses that give me so much hope and fill my heart with so much joy. In trial and tribulation, peace and rest within my soul come from the comfort of the Lord. I don’t want to come off as a “Bible pusher.” Still, from someone who is very analytical and likes to overthink and overprocess information, there is a very reassuring difficult, yet wonderfully beautiful way that my faith and experiences as a Christian have shaped my heart and has rooted the goodness that stems from it. I am imperfect, make mistakes (many of them), and am a “sinner,” and I am undeserving. My life still sucks but, every time I turn to scripture, it allows me to effectively reflect on my mistakes, make changes like the responsible human being I am, and empowers me to continue through faith. I have hope for better days to come. Although this submission is but a glimpse into my life, I hope that it may spread the peace, light, and love I have found in prayer, mediation, and good deeds. God speed, power to you all! <3