There is a always a reason but never an excuse....

Poppie and I were both broken people when we married.  My mom has been a broken person since March of 1965, the day her parents were killed in a car wreck on their way to my Grandma Thelma's dad's funeral.  They were killed in a car accident in a freak snowstorm in late March, they were kill on a terrible pass in Washington State, I think Stephens but it could have been Snowqualamee.  I was only 4 and a half.  I do remember the last moment I saw my Grandmother Thelma.  I had begged to go see them, before they left, so we had stopped by to say good bye, what a blessing to have gotten to, we did not know however that it would be a forever goodbye.  I remember her standing in the doorway waving.  She was a lovely red headed woman, she was just 40.  I regret no knowing her really at all.  My mother was never the same,  I know very little about her but the occasional because my mom doesn't, and never did, really talk of her to any length.  My mom is not a minute more mature than the moment of her mothers death.  My mom is and will ever be stuck right there.  I know to most of you that she is a lot of things, to a lot of people, but she is that lost girl of 23 when it comes down to the brass tax.  An almost twenty four year old that got robbed of her beloved parents can have a lot of anger, issues and when frozen forever they tend to permeate other peoples lives.  It is not and excuse but it is the reason.  Oh, that someone had been able to help her become the woman she could have been, oh that some one could have helped her go on, and oh I wish she would let someone do it still, but alas you can not help some one unwilling to be helped.  I learned that in Helpline training, and I guess from life. 

Poppie's mom has her own issues.  She came home one day when Poppie was 4 months old found her husband, that she had know and loved for only 13 months, in bed with another woman.  She left, and took Poppie, I know she longed for her love to come after her and say he loved her and beg her to come home.  He never did and she never got a moment older.  She loved him from afar until the day he died.  She lead and leads a sorrowful existence, she lives for what could have been and has made horrible choices for herself and her children.  Poppie endured a horrible amount of abuse because of her choices.  He did have a small reprieve in living with his grandparents until they both died when he was around ten.  They were both nearly 80 and had had little patience with a small child but they loved him more than anyone else in his life so they were his blessing.  They passed and Poppie got to go live with his step-dad, and that was devastating it is only by God's grace that he survived the 6 years he lived with them.  Thank God that he got to escape to Job Corp when he was 16.  It is not an excuse but it is the reason. 

Poppie and I came to each other with a lot of baggage, as do most couples, but it wasn't the normal ones of a couple of 19 year olds.  I was angry and had not idea that I even was or why.  Poppie was so afraid of showing any anger ever he had bottled it up and put it way down deep inside of him.  Anger would have gotten him killed and lying helped him survive.  Neither excuses but the reasons. 

Poppie struggled for years with lying, it was hard on our marriage, but Poppies biggest fear would be that he would hit someone, me or the kids, and he knew what being hit was like.  He never did, not once, but finally when the mill closed, a devastation and a blessing, he learned how to be angry.  He spent about a year and a half, in self pity,  drinking, lost and very angry.  The last time he was really anger, he was drinking and something set him off, he threw a plate threw a window, threw food all over the floor, and as he walked out the door he put his fist through the antique door window that he had bought especially for me.  He wanted me to know he was anger.  Once he calmed down, sobered up, we had a talk.  I told him I was glad he was angry, and that he should have gotten to be angry as a kids but he was 33 with a wife and kids that needed him.  It was time to grow up, get over it and get on with his life.  I could not change his past, and he got screwed when it came to parents and situations, but he had to make a choice to live his life and not live his past.  Not and excuse but the reason.  He is, and has been, a wonderful man ever since, doesn't drink, and doesn't even smoke anymore.....  He is the reason not the excuse.

I am still a work in progress, I spent my twenties in anger,  my thirties in depression and my kids paid the price for my failures.  I was an okay mother but I fell so short in so many levels, but I think that might be a hindsight thought a lot of mother have.  I gave up novels in 1997,  they weren't the reason but they were my escape and excuse, I was and am an addict and will never read one again.  I joined the helpline in my 40's cut the abscess of my sexually abuse and learned that it was part of my past, I survived and it no longer held any hold over me and the sharing of it made it no longer have any power over me.  It was such a blessing to share with people.  These were all my excuses, and maybe some of my reason, but I had learned that being open and honest helped me to cut the pain out of my life.  I am still cutting the pain from my past life out,  I write to you, and you unfortunately, have to be my suave.  You individually are not important in my recovery but you as a whole let me give up the pain.  You are not my reason, you are not even my excuse but between you and God I have an ear that lets me speak and heal.  I am now so much closer to being all I can be, I am not where I need to be but I am surely on my way.  God bless the pain that creates us and God bless the healing that we become... tomorrow.