Get It Back

Hello from the bottom, look mama, we almost made it
Haters pay attention to the henchmen, they’re relentless
Almost lost my life by inches in an instance, it’s so senseless
Tension has been endless, I’ve never sat the benches
Jumped the hurdles, climbed the fences, dug myself out of the ditches
Face first into trenches, wiped the mud off of my lenses
Now, I’m back with a vengeance, hear the lickin’-ass repentence
My intentions never been get rich at someone elses expenses
Did my sentence standing tall, cut ’em short I hear they snitchin’
I won’t mention all the bitches that was wishin’ I was finished
Speakin’ to the real, so all my people ridin’ with me

People in the trenches hear this song, they feeling that
I been on the top and lost it all, I’ll get it back
Every word in this song, I’m living that
Somewhere along the way I got lost, I’ll bring it back

~Struggle Jennings

Yesterday, I really didn’t do much to write about. I got the house cleaned up, after our long weekend. I was ready for bed, last night! I think I was just exhausted, from all our fun shenanigans. Today, I had to go into Nashville, to get my blood drawn. My doctor’s been wanting to do that, every other month, to monitor a bunch of the things. My iron levels have continued to improve, although not as much as they need to. Anemia throws my thyroid out of whack. It fucks with my red and white blood counts. I have noticed a big drop in the amount of alerts my watch sends, because my heart rate is too high. That’s another thing that happens. My heart races. I’ve gone from 5-10 alerts, per day, to maybe one or two a month. This is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s going to take time. At least, that’s what my doctor tells me.

In a lot of ways, restoring my mental health has been much easier than repairing the damage done to my body. I blame no one, but myself, for my physical health challenges. That’s on me. I don’t eat right. It’s been strange, the way my desire for some foods, and disgust with others, have evolved. I still struggle with textures, more than anything else. I also just do not enjoy being “full”. There are lots of foods, that were always my favorites, but that now repulse me. I eat almost no meat. Pretty much the only thing I’ll stomach, is fried chicken. I’ll eat half a chicken tender, occasionally. Anything with cheese, was always my favorites. Now, not so much. I’ve got a nutritionist. It was easier to make her a list of things I will eat, than those I won’t. It’s a short list. I wasn’t always like this. I didn’t used to be a picky eater. I mean this with every fiber of my being, trying to gain weight, and get healthy, is no less of a struggle than it is for those working to lose weight. I have to take every single bite, with intention. I have to consider every calorie I put into my body, as well as those I burn. I have to be conscientious about the nutritional value inside every meal. I have to choose more than mashed potatoes, or peanut butter toast, and that ain’t exactly easy for me! For the first time in more than two years, the scale actually registered more than two digits, while I stood on it. I weighed exactly 100.3 pounds. I’ll take that win, and celebrate these little successes. Isn’t it amazing, how quickly we can fall down, but getting back upright is such a long and very hard process? Someone once said to me, “Most every person would die, to protect their family. Few of us will actually find ourselves in that circumstance, though. What’s much more common, is situations where we’re tempted to give up. Where we convince ourselves we’re useless. If you’re brave enough to give your life, for them, find the courage to live. Live for them. No matter how unworthy you might feel, you matter to someone. Your life is valuable, even when you can’t see that. Fight for yourself. Because, they aren’t asking you to die for them. They need you to live.” That really stuck with me.

My smiles are genuine. The fact that I’m choosing to laugh with my family, to live and to love this life, that doesn’t mean history no longer matters to me. It definitely does matter, but I’ll not continue to let it define me. There are parts of my past, never going to be welcome in my future. There are parts that I truly pray I’ll one day be able to share it with. The latter, isn’t entirely up to me. That’s a choice for them to make. There are people who I couldn’t quit loving, if I wanted to. I can love someone, but hate their actions. There are people, who will forever occupy a place in my heart, but maybe not my life. I can want, and wish, and pray all day long, but so long as they continue to be a dangerous threat to everyone else that I love, I can’t let them back in. There are some, who can’t understand that. Who place blame squarely on me, for my “doors” being closed to anyone I love. I’ve defended myself from well meaning fools, who’ve argued with me over the fact that my own mom isn’t in my life. They’ll claim that, no matter what, she’s still your mom. My point, exactly! She’s supposed to be my Mom! She’s supposed to keep me safe. You think I’m honestly cold-hearted and capable of pushing her out, on a whim, because she pissed me off?? SHE LEFT! Claiming to know how to “fix” my relationships, as if you’d have perfectly handled walking in my shoes, is a load of crap. Especially considering all the details and facts, that you most certainly are not informed of. It’s an ignorant assumption. One I suspect I’d also have made, in their shoes, before the last decade of my life. It simply isn’t fair, to judge. It wasn’t my decision, when anyone tried to burn me to the ground, along with all that I cared about. I didn’t slam that door closed. They did. For some people, that door is permanently locked. For others, they’ve got the keys to it. Whether or not it’s used, is entirely dependent upon their willingness to get back here. For now, they’ve yet to take a single step toward me. In fact, they’re running in the opposite direction.

The point is, how many tears I cry or for how long, are not a stick with which anyone can measure the depth of the love I felt or feel, for those not with me. My inability to move on, would no more prove my love, than my ability to move on could disprove it. Mine and my family’s life didn’t stop, just because they weren’t watching. You can’t press pause, on us, like a Netlix show. We won’t be at the same place we were left off. We’re making memories. Celebrating holidays. Having birthdays, and anniversaries. It took me a long time, to accept that it was okay for us to do those things. I held onto a lot of guilt, and it prevented me from feeling truly present in my own life. My goal was simply to survive. We existed in a constant cycle of anxiety, fear, anger, and sadness. Adrenaline propelled me forward. And then, the high of the emotional rollercoaster, was over. Dazed, exhausted, and confused, it took awhile to get our bearings. It took even longer, before I’d even contemplate a future that we could participate in choosing. Picking a direction, and moving toward something good. I’d spent so much time, just running from what was harming us. There was no place to head towards. Only what we had to go from. Faced with the ability to seek out peace and comfort, was overwhelming. My heart longed for it, but my mind trusted nothing. I’ve arrived at somewhere that physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I can relax inside. Well, I got here long before I felt safe enough to settle in.

If there are names I don’t mention, it’s not necessarily because I don’t care anymore. More often than not, my silence is an expression of love. Speaking up, in most cases, would serve no one, and no purpose. Including, my own peace. I can write about my feelings, emotions, and experiences, without explaining every why behind them. I know why. I know how. I don’t have to defend myself, and I won’t selfishly list off all the offenses of another person, just to justify the thoughts I express. If I had to confess the sins, betrayal, and trespass of others, in order to protest my innocence in an allegation, that would usher in nothing but hate. I’d be swallowed up by it. Condemning myself to the very torment I’ve been set free from. “Setting myself on fire, hoping someone else gets burned.” I won’t do it. I’ll stay right here, where I am, because it’s the best place I’ve been. I can’t save everybody from being burned, but I damn sure won’t be the one lighting them on fire.