Back a few years ago I was told something that shook me pretty hard. I couldn’t understand how I was hurting people when that’s something I don’t ever want to do. After some serious searching, I found something. Once upon a time, I was teased and bullied a lot. I learned the only way to survive was to agree with everything they said and make a huge joke out of it. Not only did that have me internalizing those insults, but it always taught me to be extremely sarcastic. Sarcasm became my defense weapon. I realized recently that I never put it away. It’s like the war ended and I still had all my armor on. The sad part is that when you’re dealing with repressed memories and trauma, these unhealthy defenses turn on automatically. I absolutely thank God for loving me through it all. People are not always so understanding especially if they have been hurt. Now when I find myself facing the judgment, my anxiety kicks in and I battle panic attacks. Cause I am still a work in progress. I was praying the other day not knowing what to say and I heard, “Jesus is everything.” There’s a song I used to know that was running through my head. I can’t fix anyone least of all myself, but I am certainly glad Jesus still loves me. I have to take one day at a time. There’s no other way to do this. We all have learned behaviors from years, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be changed. If it’s wrong, God can show us and change it. Look how far Peter came. We’re all works in progress.
As a kid I watched my parents fight about different things. I don't really have any other parents to compare them to so I can't really say whether they were normal fights couples have or not. I couldn't even say what most of them were about except the ones that were about me. We only ate as a family on holidays. My father came home late so we kids ate without him. I do remember spending time with him in the evening before I went to bed so it couldn't have been that late. My own husband gets home a little later because of his job commute so we eat late every night. But home schooling has given us the ability to be more flexible than my Mom was able to be. We had school early the next day. As I got older, I remember my Father being home less and less and the fights seemed to intensify. I remember one night when I was thirteen. I could hear them yelling through the wall. My mom found me crying and I told her I didn't want them to get a divorce. She told me...
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