Patch it or Let it Burn

I haven't been on here in a minute simply because well.... I don't know. I think I was almost losing that decade old battle and was about to slip into that cloak of darkness. It's comfortable. It's familiar. It's home. And even though I have since relocated to a new address, my body sometimes forget that WE AIN'T DOING THIS NO MORE!

So from time to time, I come by for a visit. Sometimes, I walk right pass without even stopping. Then there are days where I come and I just stare in awe... just total amazement at what went on in that there shack, like I didn't live it or through it, but had just happened to hear about it....like a slave revisiting the plantation he/she used to live on. And other days, I climb the steps, open the door, and fall asleep on the couch.... It's a process.

Well, sometime back when everyone was doing the "challenge" someone presented me with a challenge of my own. They wanted me to fully see what freedom meant for me...what it looked like, what it tasted like, what it smelled like...what was it exactly, cuz my freedom ain't gonna necessarily be your freedom. So, I shot the email to my PIC cuz like I said in her lil tribute, she knows me and she will be brutally honest with me when she is pushed...So she told me that she thought that I really needed to reconcile my relationships with my parents, especially my mother. And well, it was weird because not even 24 hours prior, I was trying to sort out why it would appear that I have forgiven my father when he really was the one that physically and mental abused me and not my mother. So, I knew that she wasn't just shooting straws out of her butt and that she had really thought about the question I had presented her.

I started mentally that day trying to sort out what a relationship with my mother would look like in my freedom. And it's been hard because I have a conflicted soul and heart at times. I am a Christian and I will bust you to the white meat without a moment's notice. But, I am a Christian and what God thinks of me and my actions, do matter. They matter a lot. So, I am torn. I don't love my mother. I don't even like her 98% of the time. I have a very hard time tolerating her. But, I know that I need to honor and respect her. How do you do that with a person when the sound of their voice immediately enrages you? My freedom does not have any space for her.

Is that right? Am I right? Is that my freedom talking, or is that my lil scared girl inside still playing get back and holding on to a lifelong grudge, talking?


I am not sure. But I am not afraid to find out. I am in this for the long haul. I have dug in my heels and made sure they ain't the ones from Payless. This battle has already been won and I am the victor.

All I have to do is HONESTLY, absent of fear and anger, decide whether patching the relationship with my mom will get me closer to my freedom or adding some more gasoline to that already roaring fire and let that bridge burn once and for all.


"Sometimes moving forwards requires you letting go of one rope and swinging to another, and other times it may mean tying a knot at the end and hanging there for a minute."

~Gotta Luv Moi Cuz I Surely Do (Smooches)