Finding Faith in myself at Christmas

Since my mothers passing Christmas has been a hard time for me, I miss her so much and wish she was her to see her grand daughter grow up. I know my father has an especially hard time and he can be so difficult to handle as well.

He constantly criticizes the smallest of things and sometimes he is just mean. I know he misses her and does not want to deal with the fact that he is still here and she isn’t but he cannot ignore his family and hide with his girlfriend someplace else. It almost makes me feel like he is trying to pretend we don’t exist which I know is the furthest thing from his mind. I am sure he sees my husband and me doing everything he used to do with my mom and it brings back sadness instead of joy. His children have grown up well and do not technically need him anymore. It must be so hard I can’t even imagine, but since I have a child of my own I am sure one day I will feel the same way too.

Today we had to put to rest a dear friend of the family, so close to Christmas it was heartbreaking to go to the service. Our friend was a fun loving full of life lady who in the last few months suffered dearly only finding out in June she was Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer. It came in so quickly and devoured he poor body. I do not like going to church, I am an atheist now, going on 25+ years of being one. I will go to church for for funerals and weddings of course. My friends come first before all. But the one reason I cannot stand to go to church and apparently not a Baptist church was the fact that the pastor (I think that’s what he is called) kept saying leave everything in Jesus or Gods hands, they will save everything, they will save you, and blah blah blah – two hours of God is great nonsense.

Now I say that and I might be upsetting people but if you remember I said I was a Atheist only 25+ years I am nearing 50. I grew up a Roman Catholic girl, stricter than you wouldn’t believe. My mother thought she got cancer because she wanted a diamond tennis bracelet. I grew up questioning everything about God and Jesus, the Bible too, i just could not wrap my head around all the things I was taught. Around the age of four I started with a speech impediment and it would forever be my downfall, I was brutally teased in catholic school and when I started public school in fifth grade it started with even more damnation. I was an outcast, teased at every corner, every hallway, every classroom I walked in. Middle school was a little better but the same kids followed me all through my school years and the same kids would horrifically tease me. I prayed and prayed that God would save me, that I would have a friend to confide in, a friend to play with. Friends quickly came and went as I was brought up strict and why would you be friends with someone who wasn’t popular. It seemed the world was moving forward and I was stuck. I tried to commit suicide by 16, begging for God to take me away from this horrid world. This world I surely did not belong in. No friends I would stay with my parents on Fridays and Saturday night.

After high school I was introduced to a man 10 years my age by Aunt, how sad is that. I couldn’t even get a man I had to be set up by my Aunt at the age of 19. My first boyfriend at the age of 19. He was controlling and manipulative. I left him and tried to commit suicide once again, begging God why am I here. There has been nothing but pain in my life since I was five, I am loved by no one other than my mom and dad. Another failed suicide attempt and I was still living. Why am I asking this man (God) who I cant see to help me. No one ever has helped me, not in school, not in life, no where. Only my parents where faithful. Always there. Two years later I would be introduced to another man by brother who was a ragaholic, and a hustler. Again I left, again I tried suicide. Three times maybe I can get it right this time. But to no avail I would wake up in the hospital – this time I was to speak with the people in the psych ward.

I was questioning God from the age of 22 after my first boyfriend and years of neglect from the world. The world is a lonely place when you have no one but your parents to keep you company. No Friday night clubbing for me, no bars to go to, no friends to hang out with. They would come and go within months, never staying around for long. I guess no one could handle the fact that I probably was bipolar back then and it was never diagnosed. My ups I was fun to be around but when the lows came no one stuck around long enough to care. I never really did have a real friend.So by 25, my last suicide attempt was a doosy for me, psychiatrist and therapist, medicine and my parents watching me 24/7. I had no friends calling, no one, I stopped praying. As I went to my therapist he made me strong on my own, without the need of praying, without the need to seek God or Jesus’ help, I would finally realize my parents were my Gods, everything in the Bible they did for me and I could touch them and talk to them. My mother would never let me sit for more than a couple days wallowing in self pity that I was alone. My father and my mother would tell me I could do anything, give me everything and then of course my mom would say “Why do you want to do that!” lol, I wonder why I am bipolar. But, I would finally realize that I was on my own in this world and my parents wouldn’t be there forever I needed to be able to do things on my own. I declared God and Jesus dead to me. And at that moment I stood stronger than I ever was. I went to college and thrived-straight A’s. Made friends, went out to clubs, had boyfriends, all losers but so what I HAD boys that liked me. I was finally ALIVE!

I never looked back on God again and I never will. So now knowing 20 years later diagnosed with Bipolar 1 with Depression, PTSD and Insomnia. I stand tall, I might be knocked down a notch or two when I have to go to church for a good friend who past, and the pastor preaches his lies about saving you, because he never saved me. He never once helped an innocent little girl for 25 years. I can walk into a church and give remembrance to a good friend who liked me for me. But once this little girl declared God dead did she thrive. It might hash up some PTSD moments from my childhood, It might make me remember begging for him in the hallway afraid to walk into a classroom. It might make me remember asking him to let me die! I might need a couple hours of alone time to reset my inner self. But then I remember my mantra that the group therapist made me create all those years ago. I AM BRAVE. I AM STRONG. I CAN DO ANYTHING!

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