I had an assignment given to me last week during my 1-on-1 session with my counselor. The first letter she wanted to write to myselk was about forgiving myself. Reason bein was because when she asked me if it made me fell better? I was honest and said to her in response to her question telling her, “I feel as tho I’m lying to myself.” Writing it in hopes I’d actually be able to convince myself. I needed to tell myself I wasn’t being selfish if I chose forgiveness of myself. By doing so it might make me feel a lil better.
#AmIActuallyWorthyOf Forgiveness
She noticed I was tearing up and asked why I was crying. I flat out told her the truth too. I told her that if ‘P’ hasn’t forgave me (my bestie since youth group when I was only 13 and she was 17).
We hit it off as soon as we met. I told my counselor, no, jkjk. I asked her how I could I forgive myself, if ‘P’ hasn’t found it in her heart yet to forgive me? Hell, maybe she never will. Or just maybe by some miracle she just might. But I know in my mind, body & spirit, that I’m still worthy of forgiveness not just from myself but from her as well.
I made myself realize that even if ‘P’ hasn’t forgave me, that I’m still very much worthy enough to forgive myself. I have a huge heart and I would give the shirt off my back to anyone that needed it, even if it left me without one to wear. There have been people that claimed to be my friend only to turn around and steal $400 from me, only I chose to forgive them because like them, I once was in active addiction and did some of the same things in which they did to me. Except I never stole anyone’s money they entrusted me with to get drugs for them. Instead of taking money that didn’t belong to me, I’d take some of the drugs I’d gotten for them. I considered it my right to do it because I took the risk to go and get whatever it was I’d gotten them.
Okay, I jus finished my one-on-one with a new counselor here named Quinn. He’s open minded and completely understanding. He even listened as I read a piece that Allison Marie Conway (one of the people I follow) had posted about her experiences about walking the sobriety path along with so many others in the world, doing their best to continue with their own journey and doing the same thing.We normally get that one shot at keeping on the right track. And I know I wanna keep this thing labeled ‘sobriety’ going as long as I can. It feels so good to be able to go to the doctor (any doctor) and not have to lie to them jus to try and get them to prescibe me what I want.
Example: Last year when I broke my foot by slipping off the bottom porch step and landing full body weight on the side of my foot, I never even thought it was broke. Bruised and sore yes. But broke, no. Until I went work the next day and showed one of my co-workers. When he saw my foot he said, “Damn Tina! Your shit’s broke!” I was all like “No it’s not. You think?” I only asked bacause I’ve never had a broken bone before so I didn’t know what it felt like. I’d jus assumed it was bruised and sore. Then about 3-4 hours into my shift was when I couldn’t bare to stand and put my weight on that foot. I went to the managers office to explain to her that I couldn’t make it the rest of my shift. I needed to go to the hospital so they could do an X-RAY to tell me whether or not it was actually broken or just bruised badly (this paticular shift manager is notorious for always telling employee ‘s that either call-in or try an leave early, to come back with a doctor’s excuse). That waasn’t a problem for me that time bacause I knew I messed it up pretty bad.
When the nurse practitioner came into my room, she was an NP I’ve known all throughout my life. Before my addiction even started an all the way through. When I seen her walk into my room my jaw dropped to the ground you guys. I haven’t seen this caring, awesome woman in over 10yrs. I told her she looked totally awesome. Because one of those last times seeing her she started on her journay of weight loss. Let me jus say she nailed it. I even told her how great she looked. I then told her I wasn’t there to try and get any pain meds. That honestly it didn’t hurt bad enough to have her prescribe me any. She was totally shocked when I told her that. To make a long story short. After the X-RAYS were taken an she got the films to look over, She came back to my room and told me I had most definitely broke it. The bone on the outside of my foot along with the last 3 toes as well. I thought to myself, ‘Damn Tina your a trooper for going in an workin the hours I did work.
My neice is who took me to the E.R. Since being home from prison, she’s only visited me a couple of times. Not truly knowing how much I’ve changed, was jus as shocked when I told the NP I didn’t want any pain meds. The joy and happiness showing on her face was even more envigorating and grateful to me, then getting a pat on the back from the N.P. (even though I’ve known the doc since before I was in my 20’s).
See my ADD kicked in. Gettin myself off track when I’m talkin bout forgiving myself. Well why I’m worthy of forgiveness. So I honestly started writing that letter the very next day. That morning to be exact. After finishing getting ready for work obviously. Then I wrote a lil more during a down moment at work. I ended up finishing the entire thing just yesterday.
When I realized it wasn’t Mrs. ‘L’, who I was having my face-2-face with made me kinda sad. Because she’s who I’ve only talked to about this entire “THING” between ‘P’ an I. She knows us both and councel’s the both of us. (Some of you may think there has to be a clause for a therepist or counselor treating two individuals that are friends. She was only allowed to do so because ‘P’ and I both had to be in agreement about the decision). But jus not hangin out no more because of the toxicity the friendship had turned into.
There was no dramatics between neither of us in choosing to separate ourselves for the time being. Who knows? Maybe one day in the future we’ll be able to pick it up again. Starting out fresh, leaving the past where it belongs. In the past.
At the end of the day I have chosen to forgive myself for hurting her feelings. If it was something else I have done to make her even more upset or even pissed off at me, then I’ll apologize for that as well. But regardless of the fact if she’s chosen to forgive me or not. Doesn’t mean I can’t choose to forgive me. At least I can now let this shit go completely. The only reason I even brought that old crap up was because I hadn’t realized I’ve never forgave myseldf before. Like ever in my entire life. At first I was mad as hell when I found out ‘P’ decided not to take that composition book and read it. What actually happened and the reason I made the decision to distance myself from her. Then it made me mad asf because of all the time and effort I put into writing all of. Like it completely fucking pointless because she didn’t wanna read it. Words that came from my heart. While still letting her know I cared about her deeply. All the pages I ripped out, crumpled into a ball and tossed in the trash. Only for me to start all over agin. So, to me? Hell yeah it was frustrating when I found out she did’t wanna know my truth.
Fuck it though. All that matters at the end of this day. Is that I know I’ve truly forgave me . . .
I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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