"..... and God said, "Honor thy father and thy mother, .... until one or the other pisseth you off ... until thy feelings are hurt ... "
"Then," saieth the lord, "inflict pain and suffering upon the one who stands before your ideal life ... for you, as a child, are entitled to a painless, unencumbered life of priveledge, free of worry and mental adversity. Those with struggles are but roadblocks to your happiness ..."
So reads the Book of Spoils ...
".... and," saieth the God of all mankind ... "forget the spirit of forgiveness and acceptance ... cast aside the false teachings of those who preach universal peace and uncondtional love .... thou art better than that. Humans fail ... humans make mistakes... and, when humans make mistakes, their love, commitment and emotions wither and die. Those who err are lost and are doomed to Hell."...
So saieth the Lord .... "Only gifts of manna, mammon and Nordstrom can redeem the soul of the Hell-bound ..."
....... I write from a seated position .. ... A mixture of pain, hurt and anger stirs within me. For weeks... no, months, I have contained myself. Not wanting to further alienate my children who consider me to be an embarrassment, an afterthought, a scab on their knees as they grow .... I have censored myself with hope that they would see me as an individual worthy of consideration. These are not toddlers ... my daughter is 20 years old ... my son is 16. Both are old enough to judge for themselves ... to distinguish right from wrong.
No more. No more. I love my kids. I will always love my kids. But these two are fuckin' with the wrong guy.
Here's a holiday story ... I will admit that I hurt my kids. Emotionally ... I left them. No, I left their mother... no, I left my marriage. After my then-wife had emotionally, physically and mentally left me, under duress, I moved on. I never emotionally abandoned my kids. There were many extenuating circumstances that precipatated the separation of their mother and me. no doubt. As a result of my departure, my finances took an extended vacation ... my priorities aligned themselves with a newfound purpose and my affections gravitated towards another woman who should have been their mother in the first place. Hang a mistletoe over the story and warm your cockles on a yule log and you have a dysfunctional Christmas story.
Fast forward ... really. Fast-fucking forward .... let's get to the point, shall we?
Christmas Day, 2010. The moment I awake, I call. First, my daughter. Then, my son. Then, a text to each... just as I do most every day. .................................................................................................... nada. yet, I hope that with every buzz of my phone I get a simple "Merry Christmas" or "love u2" ....
just like every day.... nothing... despite my hopes ..................................................................................................
Today is December 27th.... still no call. No text. Nothing.
That's ok... actually, it's a bit liberating. I can finally claim that I have no children.. and, as such, I have no fault in raising anyone incapable of forgiveness. If I had children who rejected someone due to imperfections of character, I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge my own imperfections in their character.
I'm embarrassed by the children I never had and ashamed of the children that might one day claim me as their own. Let me say that I accept responsibilty for their disdain for me and my newfound individuality.
That said, I didn't raise my children to be judgemental. I am not perfect. As a matter of fact, I'm a fuckup to the 'nth' degree. But, I'm not worthy of such hatred ... such .. such...
... what is the word for being disowned by those you love? Disowned simply for being who you are meant to be, despite the image it casts upon the family name?....
No matter ... my children have washed their hands of me ... the one who possibly best understands who they are. .... No text. No call. I'm sure they prayed at church on Christmas Eve, or on Christmas Day before eating that meal of god-given bounty .... grateful for the gifts they recieved or were about to recieve.
Recieve. Recieved. For my ex-children, 'Give' is not an option.
I'm done ... stick a fork in me. I can't continue to mask the pain of my own children's rejection at the expense of my sanity. It fuckin' hurts ... I may not be perfect but I'm human. The road to acceptance runs both ways... and right now, there is no speed limit.
".... sloweth down,"... saieth the lord... "speed bumps shall cause your camels to stumble and those speed bumps may reside within your homes..." ...
All bets are off ... Jeff shall now speak without hesitation, saieth the lord...
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