T
he following article is
based on my own experi-
ences and opinions how-
ever I won’t apologize for telling
anyone reading this to stop play-
ing the “why me?” game. While I
think it is indeed part of whatev-
er process comes after fucked up
shit does its best to derail you, I
do believe it shouldn’t be dwelled
on for long.
*****
My father was a raging addict.
His vices destroyed his marriage
and turned his children away
from him. His addiction de-
stroyed everything and everyone
it touched. I turned to anger,
hatred, bitterness, and angst as
a result of his addiction. Those
emotions fueled me for a long
time.
When I was 10, I watched my
baby sister get hit by a car. I was
the first to run over to where she
lay, clinging to life. I can still re-
member the sound of my mother
screaming in terror thinking her
baby was dead. I also remember
my father showing up to the hos-
pital totally drunk, hours after
he got the phone call to come
(For the record, my baby sister is
alive, well, and a total badass).
When I was 17, my father died;
his body finally succumbed to
his vices and decided it was done
with the years of abuse. He died
alone, in a different state, with
no family. I wish someone had
been there for him. I wish he
hadn’t been alone.
When I was 21, right after my
daughter was born, my best
friend committed suicide. She
parked her car in the garage,
closed the door, and let it run.
Her live-in boyfriend found her.
My heart aches for him to this
day.
When I was 24, my boyfriend
died in the front seat of my car of
a massive heart attack 10 min-
utes from the hospital. I called
911 and did CPR but it didn’t
matter. I watched the color leave
his face and the life behind his
eyes disappear right in front of
me.
*****
Okay, so that’s some fucked up
shit. I realize that I in no way
have it the worst. I get that. But
that’s some heavy shit right
there. That’s a lot for someone to
go through in 24 odd years.
I can tell you with confidence
that I am a happy, positive,
life-loving woman. I am married,
my daughter is nearly 8 now,
and I have a wonderful job that
I love. I have found my way and
I no longer hold onto the grief
that I let invade all of my brain
space for so long. I have literally
learned important and necessary
lessons from every single shit-
ty experience I have ever had.
Does this mean that I think all of
this was MEANT to be? FUCK
NO. I don’t believe that for even
a second. No one is meant to
suffer like this.
I remember asking a pastor
friend of mine if he believed that
God made my boyfriend die, if
he thought that I was meant to
go through that. He said no. I
remember being stunned by that.
I remember thinking, “Damn,
that’s refreshing!” To hear a
person of faith say that fucked up
shit is not part of some master
plan was like a cold drink on a
hot day.
So what positive lesson has come
out of all of this? How did I learn
to not let shit destroy me?
All of the above experiences have
taught me about GRATITUDE. I
literally never understood it prior
to my early 20’s. I remember
being asked to define it once in
college and I couldn’t. My brain
just didn’t understand it. I didn’t
know how to not take things for
granted. I didn’t know how to not
be angry. I didn’t know how to
not let
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