Wow. I can't believe it has been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. Thanks for those who were checking up on me :)
Work is always super busy in the fall, with many after hours requirements. I worked two 14-hour days last week, and had to miss church on Thursday to help out my best friend who needed childcare because of her own hectic schedule. In addition to that, I had a big day on Wednesday. I got bra.ces!! Most of my friends were suprised that I was doing this as I have very nice teeth, but my fear of surgery lead me to leave my wisdom teeth in too long, which crowded my bottom 4 and top 2 teeth. So my dad is getting me a better smile for Christmas :) He was so sweet and sent me a little note saying he thought my smile was beautiful already. So I had that done Wednesday afternoon, and have been remarkably pain free, until today... but Tyle.nol is helping. I can't really eat, as my top two teeth are hitting my bottom brac.kets which is keeping my molars from touching in the back, thus not being able to chew anything. It has been interesting, but I am having fun eating ice cream! :)
(photo removed 10/13)
I have had a rough couple of weeks emotionally. The first ann.ivers.ary of my grandpa's death was hard for me. I remember picking up my grandma a different hospital, and driving her to see my grandpa thinking we still had a few days to say goodbye, but when we got there the doctors told us he wasn't going to make it and we needed to go see him immediately. I remember standing there watching her say goodbye to him. I stood there and watched him die.
My grandpa was one of the only men in my life that I truly trusted. He was such a good grandpa. He gave the best hugs. Even when he was so sick, he still crushed me with his big bear hugs. He was always so positive... even when he was exhausted from che.mo, he wouldn't let it get him down. I miss his presence in my life.
I ended up choosing cutting as an outlet for my grief, bargaining with myself Tuesday night that I would only cut twice and go to bed. I did that, but then Wednesday I felt so much emotional pressure I thought I was going to explode. I ended up cutting almost 20 times that night. I felt so ashamed the next day that I had let myself get so out of control... so ashamed I couldn't even bring it up in session on Tuesday. I went in thinking I was going to tell her, but I did not want anyone else to know how weak I was. My homework had been to identify things that had happened or things I had done that is a testament to my strength, as I have been feeling very weak lately. We went through that list and then I just started crying.
I knew it was going to happen. That emotional pressure was only temporarily released with the cutting, but it had built back up. I am tired. I am so tired of having to work so hard at every little thing in my life. Having to care about everything. I can't ever just go blindly into a situation, because I am terrified of the outcomes. I told her I'm tired of living this life. I'm mad that this is the life I have to live, when others seem to have it so much easier. Do they have to analyze every situation for danger? Do they have to hope that every man is not abusive? Do they have to push back awful memories when they see a face that looks remotely familiar? Does everyone have to work so hard emotionally that they are raw all the time? My tears turned into anger, with no one to blame.
We got on the topic of God, seeing as I told her I don't feel I have anyone here to blame and she asked me how God fit into that category, specifically if I was mad at Him. I told her yes, but I would never admit it to anyone, or even say the words to myself. I feel like such an awful person even thinking it, let alone admitting it. I think I said that it was my parents who taught me that it was never OK to be mad at God, but later I realized that they taught me it was never OK to be mad at anyone, and I was the one who made that leap to never be mad at God. It's part of the reason why I am afraid to go to church. Everyone pretends they live this perfect life and are never mad at God, and I just feel like I don't belong... because I
am mad.
I've been reading Psa.lms this week, mainly the verses where Da.vid voices his frustrations and angers with God. A man after His own heart, was mad at God. I've got to learn that it's OK that I am mad, too. Easier said than done.