You DON’T Deserve It!

Hey guys, I know it has been awhile. I’ve come to understand that sometimes what you think is the most messed up parts of life will quickly become lesser than what you are about to experience. I have also come to understand that I cannot be as perfect as I would like to be. I can be so consistent for a large period of time but chaos will come and my idea of perfection will fly out the window yet again.

It is my hope that today’s writing will help you, possibly even inspire you to take life’s difficulties from a different angle. It is my hope that if you are in despair that you can reach from my suffering and learn to wade through the deep waters as I have. Because in reality, the bottom is that sometimes life just sucks. Life hurts. Life is definitely no walk in the park. Sometimes we may find that what we think is the most perfect thing in the world ends up uncovering its blemishes or even worse, to find out that our item of perfection was nowhere near what we thought it to be. I’m guessing something or even someone probably came to mind as you read that. It’s a dark place to open up to. It’s a difficult thing to think about. But I want you to hold on to that person, hold on to that thing, and when you’re ready, keep reading.

I’ve been hurt, as I’m sure you all have. Not once, not twice, but more times than I can count. Am I alone in this? No. Does it help me to know others have been through my pain? Well, if I’m truly honest, not all the time. And that’s ok! Nobody has truly been in your exact shoes at your exact moment in time with your exact problem. That’s a time and space nobody can fill but you. But what you have to understand is that when people reach out to you, they are trying to comfort you by telling you they know what it’s like. It may not help you at that moment. In fact, it may make you mad that they would even try to feel like they know how you’re feeling. And that’s ok! But try to understand why they are saying what they are saying, and if you need to, just tell them to listen. People often feel awkward by not giving you advice so let them know their silence is ok. Be open. Communicate. Back off my sidetracked thought…

Pain sucks. Being hurt sucks. There have been times when people have admitted things to me that almost shut me down right away. In those moments, I truly wish I had never gotten out of bed. I wish that I could relieve myself of my duties and just revert into a hole where nobody knows who I am or that I even exist. At those moments, ignorance truly seems like bliss. It absolutely sucks to be in emotional pain. But, hiding pain is not the answer. I’ve come to realize that by escaping our pain, we are only burying a problem that will resurface again later. Pain that is not dealt with correctly will grow to such a size that it has the ability to affect you for the rest of your life, even subconsciously. We need to find a reason to get us through that pain, a method of dealing with it intentionally. Though I’m no expert on this topic, I thought I would share a bit of a journey through pain with you.

Someone once said something to me that I did not want to hear. They admitted something they had not told me for many months. My body went through the initial physical phase of wanting to shut down, literally go to sleep. However, I was at work and that was not an option. So I sat. I couldn’t look at my phone. And the feelings strongly kicked in. What this person admitted was nothing even done intentionally to me, but even they had mentioned they hated having to tell me. I was angry, sad, depressed, everything all at once. And yet, in my head, as upset as I was and as much as part of me wanted to lash out, I also pulled myself back to notice the sincerity of what they were saying and realizing how bold it was of that person to tell me. They were willing to take whatever reaction I gave in order to tell me the truth. Even though the truth sucked, my mind kept reminding me of what they had just done. It’s not always easy to walk in someone else’s shoes when you’re the one in pain. But somehow, someway, it’s so important that we slow ourselves down to realize that perhaps the situation isn’t so easy on them either. Perhaps they regret it more than you hate hearing it. Perhaps they’re sharing it with you because of how awful they feel. Perhaps they are already so sorry that they’re willing to let you decide what the final outcome will be.

I could not escape the feelings I had for the next few hours of the day. I had no way out. Did it change the way people saw me? Absolutely. I was referred to as “the one who’s almost ready to cry.” My job had to come first. I am, after all, responsible for the little humans in my care. And though I could not bring myself to respond like normal to this person, I also knew that I would regret making that person feel any worse than I knew they probably did. It’s important to note that I did not want to respond plainly. I wanted them to feel my pain. But in my head I knew they already were prepared for how it would make me feel, and logically (not led by emotions), I knew I couldn’t make them feel worse. So I responded in the best way that I could to tell them that I was (or would be) ok.

Fast forward to the end of the day. My room was quiet. I was finally alone. I attempted to think of driving to release my thoughts, but my motivation for anything was depleted. Instead, I decided to put my head down on my desk and just feel and think. Just be in the moment, by myself, and let myself be. It took almost an hour, but it was exactly what I needed to do. I needed to let myself fade into myself. I needed to stop holding myself up and being strong for others. It’s ok to be weak. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to acknowledge that what you feel absolutely sucks. But as I was thinking, it occurred to me where my thoughts were going, and like a lightbulb moment, I felt like I discovered a key to life. What I learned was this:

I was mad. I was angry. I was hurt. I was in pain. I was deeply saddened. I didn’t want to continue with my day. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted life to stop. I knew these things. I felt these things strongly. I acknowledged them and let myself feel them, but I had to know why. Why was I so angry? Why was I so sad? Why did this hurt me so much? Though it may seem like the answers to this were obvious, I didn’t allow myself to take my first answers. Instead, I dug really deep. (Again, keep in mind this took an hour of self-discovering misery with my head down on a desk, broken and alone to figure this out. It’s not an easy process, but it was worth it.)

What I discovered was more than what I thought I would find. Was the news pleasant? No. I hated every bit of what that person admitted to me. My idea of perfection towards that person was blemished and it sucked. I was angry about the choice they had made. I was angry that it took them so long to admit it to me. But underneath all of that was the realization that even though it was ok for me to feel how I was feeling, it was not ok for me to not realize my role in the whole situation. I don’t mean that in any way I had any part of the bad decision this person had made. I literally knew nothing about it whatsoever. What I mean is that when there were times that I had to admit things to this person, this person did not skip a beat in treating me any differently or loving me any less. In fact, if I had replayed the situation in my mind, this person barely even blinked an eye and constantly told me that the past is the past and it was ok. I expected this person to be mad at me, but they didn’t show it whatsoever. And it was the same situation where what I had done was nothing done intentionally to them either. It was just bad decisions that needed to be admitted. And for someone to love me and accept me through my dark past, how could I not do the same for them? After all, they did tell me. After all, they were prepared to accept any reaction that I gave. After all, they were leaving their fate in my hands.

As I thought about this, it didn’t make me feel a ton better. I mean, yes, it did a little. But I’m going to sound selfishly honest that even still, that did not help as much as it probably should have. So I kept my head down and continued to dig. And the final thing that hit me was this: I was mad at that person for making the decision they did when I knew what the right decision was. Yet, in the past, I had been – multiple times – guilty of the exact same thing. It hurt me in such a strong way because hearing what they had done caused me to relive what I had done as well. I began to beat myself up over it as people had in the past. I began to tell myself that I deserved what this person had done even though it was never done intentionally to me in the first place. No wonder I wasn’t feeling better because I was bringing myself down over the situation more than the situation even called for! That person wasn’t meaning to hurt me, yet I was hurting myself. It’s sometimes amazing (good and bad) how our brain connects things. It’s like our past is stored in our brain, waiting to be brought out by any similar situation we experience. So many times we can think of personal stories that relate to situations we hear of, even if it’s not to the same magnitude. Sometimes, we think a lot of ourselves whether we mean to or not.

At that moment, I had to stop myself. I was mad at this person for doing the right thing of telling me the truth (which, partially, rightfully so) when in reality, I was the one beating myself up and hurting myself the most. That person wasn’t my true enemy, I was. After calling myself out on what I was doing, I realized that no, I did NOT deserve this. No, I did not deserve to be hurt. No, I did not always make the best decisions in my past, but I did not deserve to have those decisions put on me again to punish me for what I had done. No, I did not deserve to hear this bad news or to even have it exist. And as weird as this may sound, those thoughts were the most freeing thoughts that finally started to break the anger. The truth is, I couldn’t stop the hurt. The truth sucked no matter how you look at it. Bad news is just bad news. I didn’t have to be completely happy. But I did need to realize that it was ok for me to be sad and angry WITHOUT having to deserve to feel that way. I did need to realize that this person did not DESERVE for me to make them feel worse when they already regretted what they had done. This person was hurting because they knew they had hurt me, and as much as it bothered me, I knew this person cared so much that their pain was most likely equal to mine because I knew this person understood.

I feel like this is kind of a difficult thing to explain without being able to experience it with you. But it was the thoughts, the realizations that made this better. When all of these things finally trickled down and started to make sense, I knew I had to get it out. Hence, here I am. I feel like sometimes, we are so good at reacting and hiding how we actually feel that we forget to actually tell ourselves that it’s ok to feel how we feel, and we forget to take time for ourselves so that we can actually learn to swim through those dark thoughts and emotions. We don’t have to hide but we do need to understand and choose what to do. It’s ok for things to take time and it’s often better if they do.

Later on, I met up with this person. I’m a very facial-reacting person. It was obvious by the look of my eyes that I had been hurt badly and had been crying. I couldn’t hide that. But with the resolve in my heart to respect this person for admitting things to me, and with love in my heart for knowing that this person was probably crying about the situation too, I determined to try to smile and tell them it was ok. Was it easy? Not really. I still was sad. I still was hurt. We hugged. We cried. But at that moment, I knew it was ok to hurt together, because that also meant that we could heal together. We both had to experience the pain. We both had to support each other as much as we could. We both had to decide that we were going to get through it together, and that’s the beautiful part. As much as the hard days are hard, the healing process is like nothing in this world. When two people, whether friends, family members, or especially as a couple, when two people are able to take a situation and deal with it united, together, unwilling to let the other suffer alone, magical things happen. The healing that takes place grows a stronger bond than was there before. The love grows deeper. The appreciation is stronger. Though it takes time, it’s a process worth pursuing.

Two items came to mind as I was reflecting over this healing process. One being broken bones. I have been told that bones heal stronger after they are broken (for healthy individuals of course). This amazed me. But if we think that the bone knows what broke it the first time and is then preparing to be stronger for the next time it happens, it’s easy to see how this analogy applies to this situation. When two people are broken over something that happens and they are able to successfully go through the healing process, it is unlikely that same event will happen again and if it does (so long as it’s not stupidity repeating itself), you will be a stronger unit to confront it together.

The second being Kintsugi pottery. This is pottery that has been broken, but has been sealed back together with gold. The cracks are referred to as the scars, and the scars are nothing short of beautiful gold. Being broken hurts more than anything. I would take physical pain over emotional pain any day. But that healing process of being put take together, making a bond that was stronger than before, is as beautiful, as valuable as the gold that holds the Kintsugi pottery together.

This was a long post. I applaud you for making it here. It is my greatest hope that somehow these words may have helped you in some way. It is my hope that you will understand that we don’t have to fight this world alone. We are all here, living in this spherical space together. May we strive to be there for each other. May we learn that our feelings are ok, but it’s our thoughts that we need to keep in check. May we remember to slow down before reacting and may we never stop seeking to know ourselves better. We can make it through everything that comes our way. God has designed us to be strong people. Even when we feel like we can’t make it all alone, He is still there with you. He will never pull His love from you. You are loved my friends. I am praying for you!

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.