We didn’t celebrate Easter this year. We did nothing.
See, our church? The church that we’ve been going to since we got here and we love? Doesn’t really feel like our church anymore. For a lot of reasons, most of which are way too painful and involved to get into right now. But one of the biggies? Is that someone whom Jason used to work with goes to church there as well and she did and said a lot of things that were horribly untrue and horribly unkind and hateful and mean and terrible and I’m getting really freaking worked up just thinking about it. And she just happens to be related to our pastor.
Now, I have been very honest when I say that I would not want anyone in my life judging me based upon my relatives. I have family members in jail, family members who have abandoned their children, family members who have not abandoned their children but are such horrible parents that we all wish to God they would, family members on drugs, family members who have been on Jerry Springer (no, not kidding, wish I was) and more emotionally crippled, socially retarded family members than one could shake the proverbial stick at.
I know what it is to have a messed up family. I live it every day of my life. The weird part is? They think that since I’m the one in therapy? That I’m the crazy one.
I know, right? LOLtastic.
Anyway, back to my point. I don’t think it’s the pastor’s fault that his relative is a lying box of used sanitary napkins. Nor am I trying to blame him or say that the reason she is the way she is has anything to do with the fact that she attends that church. That’s not fair and it’s not correct.
My problem is, my husband, the man with whom I share my life, lost his job in part because of the lies this person told. I haven’t told the entire story of what happened when he lost his job. Maybe I will someday but I can’t yet. It’s still very raw. And even though he has a new job now, and thank God it seems to lack the multitude of Crazy and In Charge that the last job did, still. It was a huge, huge blow to him. And it just wasn’t. his. fault.
And he doesn’t need to have to see the person that was partially responsible for that. He just doesn’t.
I’ve questioned myself lately if we are the type of people who just run away from their problems instead of confronting them, head on. We don’t have a relationship with my husband’s birth family because of how horribly they treated me and the Boy and Girl Child. That was Jason’s choice, but frankly? I’m glad he made it. I cannot imagine how infinitely more difficult my life would be right now if I had to deal with them all the time. I do not deal well with some of the people in my own extended family. It is very hard. I’m trying hard to get well. I’m doing all this work in therapy and it’s getting easier all the time. But it’s still hard to undo thirty-two years of feeling like I am Wrong and Will Never Be Right and Horrible and Awful and a Mistake. It’s like, if I’m okay, the Earth will stop spinning. It will all fall down around me. All I know how to be is crap.
I don’t know how to be okay. Or normal.
And until I figure it out? I shouldn’t be around people whose lips I wish to rip off. It just doesn’t seem safe.
Easter morning I got out of bed early and went outside and sat on my porch swing. I prayed for a while that I would have some wisdom and understanding, because, frankly? I need all the help I can get.
I felt calm about Easter. I felt at peace. Pretty sure that God is cool with me and my logic.
Later that day Jason went out and sat in the swing, on his own. I feel pretty sure he was reflecting as well.
When he came back in he said, “You know, there’s a church that’s less than a mile from our house. Why don’t we try that next week?”
So we will.
I think we will find our place somewhere.