Days of my life
My whole life has been one of serving my fellow family and friends. Until I was thirty something I worked in the florist business also working part and full time in my nursing career. I was taught at an early age that it was necessary for everyone to pitch in with regards to the family business, while I did these things I also managed to factor in time to work as a Sunday School Superintendent, work on the Lady’s Parish Aide, embroider and decorate items for their bazaar and even make Christmas costumes for the pageant. During period in my life I had four children and kept busy with my own arts and crafts. Looking back I cannot imagine how I did all of this. My brother went into the Army and eventually to Vietnam. My father fought like a wild cat to get him out on family hardship. He had me write letters attesting to the need of his only son to work with him in the family business. He made weekly trips to Washington DC and finally succeeded in getting him discharged before the end of his assignment. He had his heart set on this business being a father and son venture. His dream was crushed when my brother Dave chose to go with IBM rather than fulfill Dad’s dream. Dad bottomed out and totally let the flourishing business go down the proverbial tubes.
I saw what had happened and tried to pick up my father’s interest by redecorating the shop, sending for literature for pottery and decorative planters and other things. Eventually after I had separated from husband and was living in a small apartment, now working full time nights (11p-7a). My father would call me and insisted that I wake up and deliver floral orders for him. Nothing was too much for him to expect from me. The kick in the head was Dave was the number one (and only) child in his heart. There are many painful memories associated with my father especially but also my mom who favored my brother. I felt like a second class citizen. My role as caregiver (whether in nursing or not) was sketched out for me early on in my life. My mom went through a postpartum depression at my age of three. She would not eat and would lie in bed and cry. My father tried to get her up and she carried on so much that I rescued her by kicking him in his shin and yelling at him to leave her alone. From that day forward I decided to take on worrying about her even until she died.
Being so engulfed in my role, I have taken on too many problems of others and offered to help when instead I should have been first I always put myself second. This too has carried on until March of this year when I offered free housing and meals to a childhood friend who became homeless. It is ironic that one of those whom I helped (my ex-husband a drug addicted man of thirty years) is now being supportive of me and checking in to see if I am ok. I had prayed and had seen him through years of rehabs and jail. He has been “clean” for seven years now. I have learned that God has his own time table and when He decides the time is right it will happen and only them.
This writing is a catharsizes for me it also helps me to review how and why I am the way I am or was. It
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