I have become addicted (again) to the pointless time management games on the computer. This has resulted in a total lack of interest in facebook and pretty much every other internet thing that I was involved in.
But I love the meaningless and repetitive nature of those games. I become totally lost in them. I think of nothing but getting enough money to buy pigs that find truffles that are needed to make the pizzas. And it's divine to think of nothing but those things.
In the past two weeks my mom has wrecked and totaled my truck. Of course, the most important thing was that she and Mak were okay (the other people were too). Then the reality sets in that the insurance coverage had just been changed to liability, meaning it would pay to fix the *other* car. Yeah.
So now I walk outside and there she is, Daisy, sitting there all broken and mangled.
And that makes me sad.
Someone stole my wallet out of the truck. Granted, a business down the street found my stuff in the alley, and yes, I am very grateful for that, but being stolen from just simply pisses me off.
The ring Ass bought for me while he was in Iraq was in the wallet. I am a bit sad about that. But who needs a ring when I have the pleasure *clearing my throat* of raising the true gem *clearing my throat again* that he left.
And the very night that I had my stuff returned...just when I was settling into how grateful and blessed I was...the heater in the living room wall overheated and filled the apartment with smoke. The smoke alarm went off, totally freaking Mak out. Mom called to see why the alarm was going off. Mak answered and was yelling that her mama was on fire, to help her.
My bro came flying up the stairs like the police.
It was nice to know that people were here to help me.
The neighbor's husband tore a heater apart at mom's the next night and fixed mine, so, again, I am blessed.
And I am okay.
Some people call it faith from being a believer. Maybe. I like to talk that talk.
But I think the fact that I am so okay with it all stems from believing that I am not in control of what goes down. And I am a control freak so noting something like that is huge for me. *smile*
I am a believer in pre-destination. I don't think we can change things. I think that we use our free will to head in a direction, but we're going to get where we are supposed to be in the end.
I have reached a point of...of...of optimism. There. I think I just hit on it.
I know that the energy forces around me are twisting, floating, and evolving. And there is a general sense of "it's all okay" living inside me.
That's new. And it's taken a year to get me there. It's been a year and 7 days since Assthew went to work and never came back.
A year.
And every once in a while I get the vibe that he will be back. And don't look at me like that, I don't mean moving in back. I mean that I seem to always be expecting him to come back around.
I don't think any of that came out the way I wanted it to. Shit. It's just that I know I will not be surprised or taken aback should he ever show up on my doorstep.
And perhaps that's because I am trying to change the things about myself that I am not a big fan of. And it's working. There's a shift taking place.
Instead of asking, "What's next? When's the boot gonna drop again?" I'm resigned to a "Thank you for allowing me the time to get myself steadied again before the next life lesson."
I am a believer in the fact that ultimately some hand, some unseen force, is guiding my life and that it everything is ultimately for the good. And getting back to good takes time. And patience. And energy.
It means that instead of repeatedly telling The Oldest that I am tired of her bad attitude, that I go and innocently stretch out on the bed with her and say, while stretching my arms above my head and nonchalantly yawning, "Have you put it together yet that my dad died when I was your age and that I grew up without one?" And after letting that set in, I head her while we cried.
Her tears came between sobs of "But all of my friends have dads and I don't know why I can't have one too." My sobs came from knowing that those friends have horrible dads: gambling addicts, cheaters, convicted felons, alcoholics and drug addicts, but don't want to turn her onto that horror about her friends' lives.
So I let her cry. I stroke her hair until she starts to calm down. And then I try to put into a 6 yr old's perspective that sometimes people forget what is important to them. I tell her that it didn't work with her dad because he got sick in the head *snort* and started talking about the devil and saying bad things about God, so I couldn't be with him because the things he said were scary to me, the believer.
And then I explained that Assthew was like a little boy inside and just didn't know how to be a part of a family. I told her that we, she, her sister, and I, deserved better than that. I pointed out that we did everything together as a family and needed someone who felt the same way. I told her that we needed a daddy that wanted to be with us more than anyone else in this world.
I told her that she needed a daddy that loved her as much as her mama does. And wanted the same things that her mama does.
And I told her that once we got our family on a truly steady and joyful path, God would bring us one of those guys. One of those guys that loved us because he realized how incredibly freakin' cool we are. One who would want to go and do things with us instead of laying in bed all day and then planting his butt on the couch for the rest of the day.
A guy who will find fun in WalMart.
A guy who will go to church with us.
A guy who just feels right.
I didn't tell her that I had doubts that I would ever get married because I have visions of singleness lasting forever. I didn't tell her that it takes a lot for me to even feel pretty most days. I didn't tell her that I had absolutely no desire to even talk to men in passing, let alone trying to "find" one.
I suppose that can be one of the blessings of having to keep my girls' worlds intact, eh; I can't sit and really think about the loneliness that cuts like a knife. I can't give into the thoughts of never having a man. Because I'm too busy trying to keep their worlds from crumbling. I'm too busy trying to come up with one more nonchalant way of getting the oldest to open up her heart and let herself feel the sadness and bitterness of being a victim of bad circumstance.
But I have been trying to take a minute away from the trivial time management games to remember that the oldest concluded our little tear fest with "Maybe I should just start thanking God for giving me a great mom."
And now to put my energies and efforts into living up to that.