The Pride Before the Fall

 

 Circles and Squiggles. A drawing. 

 


I'm trying so hard to learn through the freezing cold weather and the hot, hot, heat in my head. I have what they call a 'hair-trigger temper'. For many, many years Bobby and my brother (only by blood) have tried to have me diagnosed and medicated for something that was not a disease. What I harbored inside my tiny body was not some unbalanced, definable illness they would find in the DSM-5. 

What I hoarded in my tiny body was infinite rage, dangerously close to hate. It was pride, the unstoppable feeling that I was right, the unquestionable belief that what I was fighting for was right. My pride. But what was I fighting for? The past. Things I couldn't change. Whispers behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear them. No. 

Now I had to fight for my son. And that's why I'm here. 

That's why I'm stuck. 

To get out of the muck. 

Forgiveness is something that can be elusive. So mysterious and unsolvable at times I'd find myself reading the Bible for any answer at all. The truth of the matter was: it was my fault I do not have access to my son. 

Let me say that again. It is my fault I don't have access to my son. It is my fault. 

It is pride that keeps me going backwards thinking about all the times I was left out and forgotten. It triggers my temper and I being to threaten lives. Specifically Bobby's life. How dare he......

And I begin my list all over again. 

This is called 'the pride before the fall'. 

Too much pride in being right. Too much pride to eat crow and pretend as if I ever wanted to be around Bobby again. I'll keep repeating myself as I spend the holidays with people I don't know and court orders keeping me away from my son. It's a long way down to fall. I'll tell you that. 

 It is my fault I am not with my son. It is my fault I let all of these secrets and stones build up in my tiny body. I am not fragile like a flower, I'm fragile like a bomb. And I would just tick, tick, tick away until something else Bobby did or didn't do set me off. 

I cannot let time continue to tick nor can I let the bomb inside me continue to tick. No more pride. No more pain. 

It is my fault I don't get to see my son over the holidays. I'm not happy about it. I know he's not either. I think I've made that pretty clear. 

By writing this post it also gives me the freedom to unleash what really happened leading up to this. I will do anything to get my son back and this is my first step. 

 

Hair trigger temper, holstered.  

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