An Open Window...

 

An Open Window...

From where I sit, that window!  Oh!  That window!  One would think the window would let light in.  Just like shining a light into one's soul.  But no.  It doesn't.  Instead, I see rain-drenched grass, gray skies, and frowning treetops. Gosh! How I can identify with the outside today! Only that's how I feel on the inside.  

My mind. It's a tricky thing.  I can drawback to the time when I was 12 years old.  That time when I learned of my mom's infidelity.  I learned of it on a summer morning by overhearing a phone call of her discussing the possibility of pregnancy--all while knowing my father could not father any more children.  In fact, he was downstairs cooking the most delicious breakfast.  What a blow to a pre-teen.  How could I handle such news. My young mind could not even fathom what I was hearing--and hearing it from inside my own bedroom.  What was I to do with this information?  Should I tell anyone?  Should I stay quiet?  What about trust and betrayal?  How did I fit into all of this? 

My parents raised me in church.  They never argued other than the here and there spats about finances.  We took trips together.  We went out to eat together.  We did every single thing together as a family.  There was never a time that my brother nor I felt insecure.  All our needs were met--in abundance.  Our faith-walk was spot on--or so I thought.  

Obviously not.

Well, I took that bad situation and made it even worse.  I didn't tell a soul.  Instead, I allowed the culprits to buy my silence.  I did.  A cool $50 from the perpetrator for my birthday as hush money was a good start for a 12-year-old who was already riddled with guilt--not to mention whatever I wanted to do, I was allowed to do.  Yeah.  It was a messed-up situation.  For sure. 

Yeah.  Doing all of that landed me with a boyfriend.  A very close boyfriend.  Yep.  Let your mind wander.  You will probably be right.  And at 12 years old! So sick.  This unfiltered life of mine.  It's as raw as raw can get.

It all started from there. The uncertainty of life.  The mistrust of anyone and everyone in my life.  The shame of the knowledge that I possessed.  The weight I would carry to this very day.  And I do carry that weight.  But most of all I have carried the weight of disgrace throughout my entire life.

Oh!  I have tried to get past it.  I've forgiven those who needed to be forgiven and tried to run a life not affected by the indiscretions of my mother.  I've run from trying to be like her--only to find myself in similar situations.  The guilt returned.  The shame returned.  The disgrace abounded.  It still abounds.

Everything I touch, every relationship I gain, every day that goes by has been impacted by that day all those years ago when I overheard that phone call.  How could it not?  I'm not simply blaming my mother for my life choices.  No.  Not at all.  In fact, I am to blame.

I am responsible for myself.  I chose to engage in relationships that were not best for me.  I've done it throughout my entire life.  But why?...

Seeing clearly is difficult when you're in the thick of it all.  As I stare out that open window, I know why.  It has all become so clear now.  I was and have always been running.  My whole life, I've spent countless hours, days, weeks, months, years....trying to rise above that frightful day.  I said I would never be like her; yet, I feel a certain connection to her and her missed-marks.  I'm no different than her.

And so, I've lived my life a most assured lie through an open window.