Monday Apr 27, 2009

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It's hard for me to believe that I've been sitting side by side with my parents in front of the same church pastor in the same pew/chair for this many years. From my youth when I would hang onto his words with baited breath and fast and cut little x's into my arms in an attempt to receive some kind of divine intervention, to my still youth when I would stare at him through my unbrushed hungover haze where the hymns that I sung smelled like whiskey and his words rang out feircly, resounding in the soured pit of me. Then I was something that I thought was an adult, and I still went, with the bruising on my arms masterfully covered and the skin beneath my nose peeling and sang out sweetley, like a forgotten addict waiting for redemption. Up until now, where I sat during easter Sunday, closer to the front than usual with my daddy and momma on my sides and he yelled about the Passion of Jesus Christ and how he was someone's baby dying on the cross and I listened to my momma and daddy sob beside me as I thought along with them, "What about ours? What my sister? Do you know her name? She was someone's baby and were you worshipping her as she bled out on the streets of Mexico? Did you forget that she too held no sin? Where are your praises for her, where are your churches, your millions upon billions of dollars in her name, where are the little golden scooters around the necks of the faithful and redeemed?"
I'm not sure where that was going, but it all seem very strange. This man doesn't know my name or the names of my family or anything about our lives, but we listen to him every Sunday, and my dad writes a check out to him and every time I see his face and feel the baby stirring inside me I feel something like hatred welling up behind my eyes. And I'm not sure why.

Huge big emo pregnant girl rant behind this spoiler:


SPOILERS! (Click to view)

I don't understand how someone that keeps telling me he loves me, and keeps swearing his allegiance and faithfulness to me could do everything he's done. I know that he's not good enough for me, or attractive in most ways, or as smart as I am or as well spoken or nearly as strong, but something in me wants him to love me, something wants his lies to be real, makes me want to believe with everything that I can lean on him and be okay. And something made it him that is daddy to the baby inside me. Even with everything he's put me through, and everything he knows that my life has been, in some way I still wanted him, probably in some perverse punishment ritual that I've laid out in my head. I don't understand how I let him keep hurting me, how I believed in him when he went and slept with the town whore, and then swore he would never speak to her again. How at the same time I sit at six months pregnant and he sees that girl at the methadone clinic, the same heroin addict whore that spread HIV to half the boys in jail, and he agrees to go to the movies with her. He treats me like yesterdays trash, and I want to hate him and I want to hate her, and a big part of me does, but then another part of me says that everyone is just looking for something to hang onto, something to make them feel like maybe this world isn't so bad, and that things maybe won't hurt forever, and them probably more than me because they destroy their bodies and minds day after day after day, and I have a healthy baby wiggling inside of me. I don't know where this is going, except that, what else can I do? What else can I do but keep being strong, and keep being stronger that I ever thought I could be, and forgive and forgive and forgive so that hurt and anger doesn't poison me or the baby, but to be alone and stronger as just me than I would be as a family. It hurts it hurts it hurts, but maybe just maybe I can be strong, and keep being strong, and look to my sister in my dreams and ask her to be strong for me when I can't, and believe that one day there will be someone good with me, to love me and baby, and until that time, I have baby, sweet and soft and new, and it will be okay.



Also, for a change of pace and because my brain is scattered in every corner of the universe right now,
my momma and I are selling avon, so if you like it, or you like makeup, or good deals (chap sticks for 75 cents!) then here's our site, you order there and it gets shipped to you!
Avon for Myrtle


I hope you're all being beautiful, I also hope I can see Maslow soon, she's wonderful and makes my heart happy smile.
Sorry there are no pictures of my growing baked potatoe baby, my laptop broke and is getting repaired so I have to wait till it's back to upload pictures, but I can assure you, the growth will be shocking!!!

ETA, woops, link fixed!

VIEW 25 of 25 COMMENTS
maslow:
You are coming to live with me and dave and the kitties. It's settled! I have a big ol bed and mountains all around. It's a fortress.
maslow:
PS I miss sully love too! I found the white stain from the milk on my shorts right before I went running and I was like "Oh Silly Sully!!!"

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