Original source Photo by Robert Tadlock. Used with permission.
When the deep melancholy of my soul demands my full attention. Lick this wound, it says, pick this scab. Wallow and whine. You have been hurt, it says. What hurts the most is seeming to be forgotten, not even missed. In retrospect, not forgotten, perhaps more like disregarded. For a long time I missed the family relationships I once had. I poured love into them because I liked them, loved them. I gave my hospitality and my heart. I helped them when they needed it, gave them a place to stay, showed them around tried, tried, tried like heck to build a family. Sometimes when they stepped on my toes I ignored it, because I had a hard time standing up for myself. I also feel everyone should have an occasional pass or two when they behave badly, so long as it's rare not habitual. When they kept stepping on my toes I finally had to say something. Ouch! That hurts could you please not do it again? I guess they like to step wherever they like with no regard to the toes of others, because when I mentioned it, they shut me out shut me down. And no matter what efforts I made to smooth things over and rebuild a relationship, to this day we remain estranged. And even from afar, when I have established a safe distance, they seem to continue to find ways to step on toes. I must conclude that they like stepping on people's toes. Why?
from 7/29/2011
No comments:
Post a Comment