Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Empty Tanks

When I hit 13 years old, I turned into this hormonal, awkward wreck that walked around thinking I knew it all. I had big hair, bright lips and a bad attitude. In a very heated moment, I remember sitting across from my mom at our kitchen table and yelling with all my might about how much I hated her. Her face was broken. I took a little something from her that day that I can never give back.

Ironically, I wasn't even mad at her. My anger seethed at my father, but since he'd been gone most of my natural born life, it was hard to heap that on him. She was closer and she loved me unconditionally. I needed desperately to get that hurt out, to settle it elsewhere, and even at a young age, I needed someone to blame for my circumstance. Looking inward was just too tough.

On our most frazzled, most hurt, most challenging, most "I'm so dried up there is nothing left for anyone else" day, where do you heap those worries? Where do you send the hurt? Instead of inward or outward, I think I'm going to start trying upward. There's some good love up there, I hear.

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