Feb 20 2009
I was always the broken one. The one they wanted to fix or make better. I never understood why. I was born to a very disfunctional mom and that made me the project of the family. Past from one reletive to another. Till finally my uncles family took me in after ” praying for an answer” I went to live with them two years after my dear grandfather and the only one that every understood me had past away.
I was raised in a church i never understood and was forced fed a set of rules I couldn’t grasp. I was always trying to fit some mold and look at as the black sheep of the family. Not only uncomfortable in my own skin but i felt like a liar every time i sat in the church bench..arms folded neatly.
always compared to my other siblings, a;ways the one that needed to pray more, do more. so I left home when I was 18 and met a nice missionary. He went home and called me when he was done. A week before marrying him he admitted to not being in love with me but felt like we had no other choice. We were married 10 years and had two amazing children. Five years into the relation ship we both realized that we were living a lie and i began sleeping on the couch… Five years after that we couldnt live the lie any more. I went to the bishop many times and was told repent, pray..repeat. After my divorce i moved home and thought I could handle being near my parents. The ones that “save” me fell back inti that pattern. I had to wak up and realize I was never broken just hiding. I am now in an amazing relationship with a woman who treats me and my children like gold. Their father, before he passed away told me he always knew and was happy i finally saw who i was. My parents choose not to speak to me but i know that they love me, no matter how broken thay think i am. And me? I am happy with the little cracks.. thats where I like it most. I am perfectly unperfect.