You know I could go on and on for hours about all that I’m thankful for, so I’ll use my Thursday blog for just one or 2 things, so as not to bore you to death. You see, where you might see something as normal, a piece of furniture for example, I see it as a blessing. It wasn’t so long ago that I had nothing. I once had a house, jam packed with furniture and all the neighborhood kids would come over everyday because I was the cool mom. I would get involved and play with them. I would praise the art work they were doing, or the victory on the video game. Their achievements didn’t go un-noticed by me, even if they brought them home and their parents threw away the silly clutter piling up on the counter.
Nope. I would look at everything, point out its beauty, and make each child feel special for that moment. I don’t know what went on behind closed doors, but the fact that they flocked to my house told me they were lacking something at home. I was more than happy to give it to them.
Then I got divorced, met a man who spent 3 years lying to me, only to end up living in my mothers cold, damp, musty basement of her one bedroom apartment. Everything I owned, with the exception of a twin sized mattress was GONE. So, the couch I’m sitting on? Extremely grateful for it. The apartment I’m living in? LOVE it!
As I mentioned in my post yesterday, I am now recovering from emergency surgery. My son has karate class tonight. I cannot drive, and I cannot climb the stairs to get to the class. I am extremely thankful for my mother, who has offered to take him tonight. He’s promoting next month, and can’t miss any classes. And I can’t count on his “donor” for anything, as he bails out at the last second.
So as I look around my house, I see clutter, and I love it. It’s all mine. I went from absolutely nothing, to needing a storage unit!! I made a promise to my son one night, as we went to sleep in that twin bed in my mothers basement apartment. I promised I’d find us a home; that I’d get us out of this place that mental illness (and a few key characters) drove me to. As I look around, I can now say I’ve done it. I have fulfilled my promise to my son, and his reaction yesterday to me having surgery tells me all I need to know. So, go ahead. Call me crazy. I’m a fighter. I’m an optimist. I have mental illness in the form of severe depression and anxiety. The more you call me crazy, the more ignorant you look.
So, I’m blessed to have my mother, who not only took us in when the school called to tell me my sons father was neglecting him, but she still continues to help me. I’m forever grateful.
Peace, love and happiness, Always,