I just felt a shift in my purpose. So many thoughts are spinning in my head, I figured I should sit down and write something. It’s clear that my home life is changing before my eyes. I’m only responsible for Kyle’s daily needs now. The other two are older, and are not really here that much. Plus it’s not like either of them has a serious appreciation for me or this house I thought I was buying for all our benefit. I’m the only one who cares about taking care of either in any way. Maybe we’ve both served our purpose in that regard. I don’t know.
I do feel a strong pull toward my own satisfaction though. I find it easier to put my needs ahead of other people’s for a change. It would appear that the court did me a favor by ruling the way it did. Although I was painted as Mommy Dearest, and that lawyer chick asked me “When was the last time you remember being a good mother,” I realize not all things are about truth. Every now and then appearances will win out.
It’s kind of sad the other side read my blog and pulled one of my rants about parenthood for evidence in the custody hearing, but it was clearly an act of desperation. And hey, at least four more people read my blog than I was aware of! Regardless, God is on the throne, and his will be done in all things. Be careful what you ask for and all that.
So I find myself presented with several opportunities I did not have before. Time, energy, room to breathe, peace…. I know the devil will fight tooth and nail to keep me on the ropes, but I don’t stand a chance at fighting him alone, so I won’t accept the responsibility of worrying over what he can or will do to me next either. It’s not my fight.
Speaking of the devil, I find myself bombarded with all these thoughts of my mortality. Don’t get me wrong; I have no intention of voluntarily checking out, but I have thought extensively about the possibility that I could depart this life earlier than I had imagined.
I stay awake some nights trying to determine how awful it might be if I did go soon. I used to worry about leaving my kids, but I only worry about Kyle now. He has this way of clinging to me, making sure I’m all right; he always says he doesn’t want me to die. I mean, that’s really when I started thinking about it like daily and nightly—like what if that’s a sign?
So I started preparing for my untimely demise, putting things in place so to speak. Downsizing, minimizing liability, tightening up my insurance and such. I almost welcome the idea of checking out, because between me and you, I believe that’s the only way I’d ever inherit God’s kingdom. I don’t see me making it through Armageddon with this attitude, these angry thoughts, this darkness within me. I just can’t get it together.
My social dysfunction is at an all-time high. I don’t like most people. Most people. I trust very few, but with the understanding that we’re only human. I’ve written and talked and studied the bible, and been to counseling, created a talk show—hell, I’m eight open books, a blog and a podcast! And God knows I’ve prayed, but I just wish harm to some people. I want them to feel pain because they hurt me. I want them to feel alone and unsure. I want them to feel betrayed because they betrayed me.
I have said out of my mouth that one person should just do the world a favor and die. None of that is godly behavior or thinking. And I’m only sorry that it’s a disappointment to Jehovah, not because it’s wrong. How can it be wrong if it’s how I feel? I didn’t ask for them, but here they are, along with the injustices and disappointments and hostile actions against me.
But this is nothing like lusting after some man, or thinking about ways to maneuver money, or wanting to lie on an application or something, where I wish I didn’t do it afterward, or decide against doing it. I want this harm to come to those people, because I didn’t deserve what they did.
You hate the fact that I was born; not my fault. You despise the way I smile, so you seek ways to make me stumble and cry. I want pain for you. I don’t know if I have time to work that out of me. Struggling with some truth here, people. It aint easy being me. I say it all the time, but you have no idea.
I’m tired of being the guinea pig too. Don’t want no more lemonade. This honesty, visionary thing aint working for me now. It doesn’t pay enough, I’m spilling my guts to…a blank sheet of paper and a web page most people will never see, talking to dead air. Maybe later somebody will get their hands on something I wrote or said and cherish it as an answer to some prayer, like Nietzsche, or Aristotle, or Plato, or Socrates. Maybe I’ll be considered a philosopher when I’m no longer here to know about it. Maybe that will make somebody proud. I tried. My heart was in the right place with that whole thing.
I so wanted to be a light for somebody who needed one, a voice for someone hiding from their truth, and just a smile when one was needed. I just know that some people get famous doing stuff that could never touch mine. Others just make a nice living selling their work for motion pictures or stage plays or something. And I’m still here. I’m tired of coming from behind. Yeah, I’m ready to do something else now. Shoot, I wouldn’t mind being a trophy wife or a gold digger with a shopping habit for a while.
It’s like getting banged up on a football field for years until your body can’t take any more, then you sit behind a desk and analyze other people doing it. Or coach a youth team. I just want something else, you know? I don’t know what’s coming, but like I said, I just felt my purpose shift. It’s time for me to do something else now. I’m sure it will come in a dream, like always.
From the Mind of:
Tonya D. Floyd
www.tonyadfloyd.com
Twitter: SignatureMoves
IG: MakeSignatureMoves