Memorial Day and a Peek into my Brain.....Ugh

Memorial Day weekend. Supposed to go up to Lori’s family’s cookout this afternoon. Meanwhile, I’m in my comfy Pillsbury Doughboy pants and a sweatshirt and somewhere in the recesses of my mind, little imps are trying to conjure up some sort of rationale for not going up so I can just stay here and relax the afternoon away. I can’t see them, but I can feel them feverishly working up there in the caverns of my brain.

Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind these last few weeks. Lots of internal struggles going on, but like so often happens, when I don’t get the thoughts on paper quick enough, it’s almost as if they calcify in my mind. There was some pretty nasty junk going on, so I’d say I really need to work at chipping that crap away. Sort of a mind enema. Nice visual there.

I know I’ve been struggling with this chick from work — the infamous Brandi — my job situation and concerns relating to that, my financial situation, my social life or lack thereof, family tensions just from living in such close quarters with them, wanting to get out on my own again. Those would be the big ones that I can think of. Oh, and of course, in a grander view, my relationship and struggles with God, my Father take all those in and more.

I’m just coming out of a 2 or 3 week tailspin in which I was running from God and his direction. I think I’m back on the path with Him, but I can never be too sure it seems. I hit one of those crossroads a couple weeks ago that I seem to come to every year or two. It goes like this:

“Hey, I’ve been being good and trying to trust God with my life, and I’m getting nothing from Him to show for it. I’m trusting Him with my relationships, finances, job situation, all this, and look where I am. I don’t see any changes. My life is still in the crapper. I’m poor, struggling to eke out a living, I’m single without a hope of a relationship anytime soon. In fact, the one girl I did have my eyes on has turned out to be a bust. I’m living in my parents’ basement, I go to recovery groups, in fact, my best friends sometimes seem to be those guys in those groups. What’s up with that??? Well, I’ve given God His chance to come through for me, and once again, I’m seeing nothing from His end. All that talk about giving me the desires of my heart and an abundant life—well, I’m not seeing it. I can only live off the fumes and invisible platitudes of peace and joy and contentment and patience for so long. Eventually, I want a decent job, income, a woman, sex, a family and kids. I’m not seeing any of that—not even off in the distant horizon! So, I’ve given you your chance once again God. Now, it’s my turn to take control. If you aren’t going to come through, at least if I do it my way, I can get a little of the life I’d like to someday have. I’m outta here!”

Something like that. I’ve been in this place many times before. This time though, even though I wanted to turn my back on Him and get while the gettins’ good, I just don’t think I can. I know the rewards for disobedience to Him. I’ll have some fun, but a lot of guilt and shame and heartache. I will kick myself for doing wrong. I’ll waste another year or two of the precious life I have. As much as I dread God not coming through for me, I don’t want to pay the price of disobedience to Him again. So, I’m trying to choose Him and not look back or second guess myself. Put those flesh-inspired thoughts out on the curb of my mind for the trash to pick up later.

Wow, there’s a lot going on in my mind right now. Little imps, caverns, calcification, enemas, and now scheduled trash pick-up. No wonder I feel overwhelmed at times. It’s a wonder my neck can hold my head up it’s so heavy at times. Well, if you look at photos of me, my head is usually leaning to one side. Must be an imbalance in my brain. Maybe a beer would even things out up there. Boy, that sounds good right now.

Ugh....

I'm so frustrated with women in general now. They are a pain in the butt, and yet I still want to sleep with them. What a quandary. Ugh.

I Miss Her....

I miss my daughter. I know, I never even got to meet her, but I miss her nonetheless. She's my daughter that I never got to meet. Oh God, where is she?? I want her back. I can look back on my past and think about decisions and actions I could've done differently, and my little girl would still be here, alive and well and growing and being loved. On days like today - Mother's Day - I really hurt.

It hurts and angers me all the things those closest to me do when I talk about her. I get patronizing looks and words from friends, family and acquaintances. I have friends - christian friends - who try to offer me words of comfort at times, all the while holding their unspoken opinions that somehow it's a woman's right and privilege to kill her unborn child. The very ones who are held up as having the greatest love on earth - a mother's love for her child - are the very ones who will insist it's their God-given right to kill their unborn babes, as if their convenience and lives are more important than that little child they carry. Even the girl from work that I'm so interested in has flat out said to me that she doesn't think my child was even a real human. What am I even doing trying to get to know her??? I'll never be with someone who feels that way.

I had a friend who was on the verge of spitting out some really mean words about my daughter or about me not really being a father, when she bit her tongue before saying it. But I pretty much knew what she was going to say. She didn't have to say it. Some things you just know. It hurt. I try to forgive those who are so calloused and evil in their views, but it's difficult sometimes, especially when it comes from those you've trusted.

Sometimes I wonder how life might be right now if I only wouldn't have been too selfish to just stay down in Florida when Lina came along. How might that have changed things? I kick myself at times for not making the decisions that might have saved her life. A few different choices on my part, and she would've been with her Mama today celebrating Mother's Day with her perhaps. What have I done?

I've tried in the 2 years since it happened to share with family members what it feels like. It's almost never a good experience. With the exception perhaps of my Dad and Mom, it's like my daughter just doesn't count. She just wasn't real enough. No headstone at a cemetary, no nothing. Just the emptiness of knowing she was inches from my hands and face at one point, but then gone. Sucked out of her Mommy's tummy and then her twisted and broken little body thrown in some biohazard waste can, to be incinerated somewhere along the line. Thrown out like the cigarrette butts tossed on the ground. How can anyone say she wasn't a real person when she had little hands and feet, a face, a brain, a heart, eyes, ears, nose??? How can they say that???

My little girl, I miss her. I don't really care that I'm repeating myself over and over. This blog has become where I go when I grieve her death. The people that I am willing to share this part of my life with are few and far between. It's the rare person who actually seems to acknowledge her realness and the legitimacy of my pain. Why? Why God?

Empty cliches, glossed-over looks, calloused words, hateful words towards her. This is what I receive when I mention her too often or in too much detail. She just doesn't count in this world.

But she does to me. And I miss her....