I look back at my childhood and the things that weren't given to me....the moments that should have been. I had very few sleep overs or friends over because of the mess. My parents were old and fat and didn't play with us. I didn't get piano lessons or dance class. We weren't sent to summer camps or sports clinics to improve our performance in anything. And when I did manage to get on a team and play a game, they were never there....so I quit asking.
In college, I had no support from my family, emotionally or financially...so I didn't do the things that college kids do. I didn't date a lot or hang out with friends. I was the kid at the table who ordered the cup of soup and tried to make it last while everyone else ate their entrees. My parents didn't pay their taxes, so I didn't qualify for financial aid. And I ended up putting it on a credit card and working 3 jobs to pay it off.
And then my wedding...I don't think a single person was there for me...not even my mother (who was there for herself). No photographer and no cake. Not even a gaudy dress.
There are little moments we all just kind of expect to have. I always wanted to drive off into the sunset in my car with paint all over it and little cans tied to the bumper. Jonah's family didn't do that though....their idea of decorating a car was to hide rotten meat under the seats and stuff the trunk full of the trash from the reception.
You expect presents and happiness at te birth of your children but I got drama and an undeserved lecture from Jonah's father.
When we bought out first house, jonah's grandparents helped us, but only because they didn't trust us enough to borrow their truck. And they didn't really help so much as complain and dictate and drive back and forth between the old place and the new place.
With our second house, friends from the ward helped when they found out that no one else was going to be there.
It's easy to look back and feel rather helpless and alone and cheated. The struggle is to remain grateful. Am I grateful for these trials?
This morning, Jonah left for work very early. He told me because he didn't want me to wake up without him there and worry and make assumptions. I'm grateful that he was considerate like that..but I hate that he had to do it. I hate that I worry and make assumptions. I hate myself right now.
I'm at a point where I can put on the smiley face and not worry about breaking down in public. And most of the time I'm fine....really.....but those times are also when I am in the most denial about our situation. I'm scared and I am tired. And I'm sad. I don't know if I need a pill or prayer or therapy or chocolate or some combination of all of them. But I do think I need to talk to someone....because I need my situation to be real. I can't live in denial anymore. I need to face it and overcome it....not sweep it under a rug and hope to come to a place where I've successfully ignored it.
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