Recently Facebook has been more painful, than friendly for me. I have spent the past week in both physical and mental pain because I have felt like a dog sitting at the table watching everyone eat begging for a scrap to be thrown his way. I watch with my nose pressed up against the glass as everyone else enjoys the things that I have wanted to be able to do with my family. I battle with wanting to cancel my Facebook account on a daily basis because I want to be in the pictures too.
I have sat quietly by for the past year and half with what will be called “unrealistic expectations”, hoping and praying that relationships could be healed. I’ve held back putting to words the anguish I have kept inside with the hopes that our family could be mended. Instead I continue to find myself feeling like I have to hold on to everyone else’s emotional rollercoaster while containing my own. I’ve watched firestorms brew, knowing what their outcome would be, only to be chastised for trying to intervene.
So as I’m writing my cathartic dribble, I decide to pop over to the bane of my existence and read a few posts. I read a very heartfelt comment from one of my daughters. She has had her own share of ups and downs in her life, a life that I have always wanted to be a part of but never have discovered why I have been shunned from it.
Last summer, I was able to visit with her. It was painful because it was filled with the high hopes me being part of her life again. I was given the opportunity to meet my beautiful grandson which I will be forever grateful for, but instead of it being the beginnings of grandparents doting on grandchildren, I watched my husband, who would love nothing more than to have a houseful of grandchildren to spoil and play with, be snubbed. It’s a hurt that I continue to pray will be healed.
I too would like old wounds to be healed and to move forward, to forgive and be forgiven, but I would also like to know what I’m needing to ask forgiveness for. It helps to know where to put the band-aids. There is a lot of hurt and misunderstanding swirling around out there. And there is a lot of healing that needs to take place before Megan’s wedding – but that’s another whole blog post – this one is about my own pain.
Yes, I have hurt for all these years because I don’t know what I did that caused two of my daughters to stop talking to me. There was a brief time after the divorce that all three were talking with me. Then something happened, something was said, I was shut out by two of them and one was left struggling on the fence. I have endured the pain and suffering that the fence sitting has caused to the point of just wanting to throw in the towel. On a number of occasions I have even suggested that if makes life easier for everyone, end all contact with me. To those paying attention, those days tend to be the ones where I’ll mention moving out west. For the boy and his abandoned dog to hit the road and quit peering in the windows.
But that’s the hurt inside talking, here’s to hoping for happiness around the dinner table and being included in the pictures.
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