Childhood @ MindSay 
memories
But it kept on haunting me for several years...and even until now.
I am scared, sorry, ashamed, guilty. But what could I do? I could never right a wrong. I could never ever think that it never happened. I know there must be something that triggered me to do it. I just don't exactly recall if it's true or not or if it really happened. Somewhere along my memory lane, I could see that someone did a nasty thing on me, too, and I got it and did it to two people who I shouldn't have messed with. But it was already done. I am escaping it for several years now, maybe 20 years now. I don't know for how long I am going to keep it. I know I am going to keep it to myself forever because I wanted to spare people from hurts. I don't want them to know what really happened not because they would be angry at me, but more so because I would hurt them. It's better this way that I am just the one hurting inside.
For many times I tried to confess it to a religious person, but I could just afford to say the general thing, never the specific one. But with God, I say it to Him for several times during my adolescent years and adult life. I am so honest with God. I know He is a forgiving God. He forgives me, I could feel that, but how come I couldn't just forgive myself? I keep on torturing myself with those memories. I can't help it, but thanks God, I am still sane. I don't do anything wrong. I don't think of anything wrong. I don't think of ending my life even though what I did was unforgivable in the human eye.
The childhood mess I did was carried over during my highschool years. It bloomed into other manifestations. I look innocent on the outside, but I feel rotten on the inside. It's the conscience that I am now dealing with, and it hurts so badly. Yes, I would agree that the conscience is the one that feels so bad when everything else feels good.
Dealing with a childhood mess I did 20 years ago is something I could not escape from. I know that. I must face that with a brave heart. Talking about it here, although vaguely, gives me an assurance that in due time, everything will be OK for me. My prayer is that those people who I have messed with are very much OK. I owe them that much. I want them to have happiness and all the good things in life. That's the least I could do to ease the throbbing pain of my conscience.
While writing this post, a clear thought occurs to me. What happened twenty years ago doesn't shape what I am now because I know that God already changed me. God wants me to pursue being the new me. I will not forget what I did, but I will think of that as a way for me to continue doing good and being good.
There. I let out my first clear bag. What I told here wasn't clear yet, but the feeling that is evoked was clear enough for me to move on. Thank you, God. Thank you.
Wendy and Jacob were smiling as their baby crawled across the floor.
The relatives were filing in and grandma stood at the door.
Their little boy Dusty opened his present, a fluffy teddy bear in a bow-tie suit.
Jake's cousin Brian had shot his first pheasant, their Christmas dinner was won in pursuit.
They all sang their carols across the town and drank lots of eggnog and wine.
That one Christmas was without a frown, and Jake's cancer was supposedly benign.
---
Wendy sits in the living room, sighing, as her little boy watches T.V.
Wendy's head hits the table, crying, and Dusty tilts his head to see.
"Mommy why are you sighing?"
"Dusty, just watch TV"
"Mommy why are you crying?"
"Honey, Just let it be"
Dusty held up his old toy teddy bear, to show it had been torn.
Wendy knew life wasn't fair, and that old toy was worn,
But she couldn't afford to buy him a new one and she didn't know how to sew.
In just three week's Jacob would be done, and there'd be no more chemo.
---
The policewoman held Dusty from his mother, and she lied cold on the floor.
Some dirty pimp had smothered her, and on her chest carved the word "Whore!".
Without Jacob around and his 6 figure job, she just couldn't pay for food or rent.
As the coroner came Dusty continued to sob and policemen came and went.
He was driven to his cousin's when his aunt came up, but he begged for his old teddy bear.
It was covered in blood and she had to say, "Dusty, it has to stay there"
He screamed and he hollered and he pounded and he shouted, and he asked, "Why does it happen to me?"
As his aunt looked back to console him she doubted that he'd ever believe this the land of the free.
I see a lot of empty people everyday. They are searching for some sort of entertainment or relationship that will fill the void in their lives. They don't realize that the enemy has wounded them through their childhood. They don't know that there is a reason why they feel like no one understands them. How can others understand you if you don't even know yourself?
I see some people crawl up in corners and try to become invisible. Others scream out through "rebelling" and being “different” together with others who are also angry and desperately in need of love. They don't realize that their lives are controlled by the people they want to be the least like. To "get even" or to make a statement against someone, the person's thoughts and actions become molded, confined, and fiendish trying to hurt the one who hurt them. When will the cycle of pain stop? When we realize that in our broken humanity we cannot save ourselves?
If we try come up with answers from ourselves to solve all of our own problems, I'm afraid we're going to be going around in circles forever. Even if we did get an answer or two, mere head knowledge will never bring healing to the soul or give us the reason to live a fulfilling and joy-filled life. We need help.
Only One can show us where we've been wounded and how deep the scars are. He knows everything that has happened to you and wants to show you that there is something so much better for you. He is the only One who actually cares and loves us so much that He cries with us in our pain. He holds us and asks us if He can carry the pain-filled, dry and heavy shell of a heart we’ve been dragging along and give us a joy-filled, vibrant and living one instead.
Sometimes a friendship becomes obsolete. It’s sad because I like to keep relationships going… as evidenced by a 39 year old marriage to the same man, but sometimes you have to shuck a friend and give up all expectations. For these situations I use the rule of three. I try three times t make things work or contact them or give them chances to “make it right” and after that it’s jettison time. This happened most recently with a childhood friend who I was happy to learn lived in Portland. We both likes him and liked his wife. Second marriage for him, third for her. But as we spent more time together more stuff was revealed that suggested not all was well in friendship land, The final blow to the friendship was the wife attempting to co-opt me by telling me deeply personal things about the man that could feasibly make me partisan to her version of the marriage. But he was my friend long before she entered the pic ( our dads had gone to HS together and the two families forever spent thanksgiving and Christmas day together through my childhood). We last saw them in Ashland where we had gone to see some theatre and clearly there had been a major scene between the two as he showed up independently for dinner with red eyes and she strolled in 30 minutes later barely speaking to him. Suddenly the explanation of their family dynamics became more clear to me. A pattern of triangulation so they could , in rough times, work together against a common enemy was keeping the tendrils of connection together for them. And little did I know that I was about to become a common enemy to them…. Because I knew his secrets and she had let him know.
So last week I made my final (third call) which went unanswered and that means I won’t try again …. But if he should re-appear I might be ok with trying again- with clarity this time. I do not have time for friendships where one walks on egg shells. Nope, not any more.
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