Masterpiece in Progress by Smith, TL (beginner reading books for adults .TXT) 📗

What do you say to someone who you know is going to die? Was I supposed to prepare him? Did he know he was dying? (I think he did). I knew he believed in God and Jesus. So, I just held him and laid with him. I tried to not feel because if I allowed myself to feel, I might not survive what was happening.

And I’m forever grateful his niece was there too.  He had a real soft spot for her, and she helped keep me sane.

The medicine to keep him comfortable would make that our last exchange of love. And contrary to what you see on tv, it’s not quick most of the time. It would be many long hours before he took his final breath on day 7. I was shocked at how fast his body became cold.

I could not be there in that room any longer. I HAD to leave. He was gone. And in addition to the sadness, I felt relief, which made me feel shame.

Ironically, his death would end up saving my life later.

I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to not feel what I was feeling. I wanted to quit explaining to people what happened. I wanted it to be a horrible nightmare. I wanted to die with him.

In spite of everything he’d done to me through our marriage, I loved him. But I also hated what he had done to damage me.  And, I resented him. I was overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions I was feeling.

I didn’t know how to live without him telling me what to do, how to do it. What the hell was I going to do?

I drank even more, so hell bent on not feeling anything. I tried moving back to my family, but I was just running away. I came back home.

And I kept drinking.

I had only started drinking to begin with to piss him off, to show him what an ass he was when he was drinking, then it became something we did together. Something we had in common. Then he died.

I tried to slow down, but I couldn’t sleep. And I damn sure couldn’t FEEL. I simply could not feel any more pain. I had no reservoir of strength left to handle it, it was if the pain of my whole childhood, coupled with my marriage, and now his death was my “full” point.

But I was miserable. I was making people around me miserable and worried and mad. They had every right to be. Paige told me I was going to die just like her dad, and I wept in shame and grief for the pain I was causing her.

Having gone through the loss of my own dad, and my mom. How could I do this to her? What the f was wrong with me?

I had never stopped praying and I knew God loved me. But I had moved away from my personal relationship with Him. I didn't deserve His love, His mercy, His son, but most certainly, His grace. I was so full of shame and guilt and I had no one. Not even my God who loved me should see me like this.

July 14, 2015 I woke up and my eyes were yellow, and I was terrified. I went to the ER and my liver enzymes were high, but I wasn’t sick enough to be admitted. Having had weight loss surgery, I wasn’t supposed to drink to begin with, but here I had been rocking it! (tongue in cheek)

I came home from the ER and I surrendered my everything in prayer to God like I NEVER have. Not simply asking, but true, honest, gut-wrenching, surrender. Hours in prayer, He was all I had left, and I simply had to live for my daughter. I could not do this to her. He heard my prayer (He always does).

He delivered me. He restored me. I was healed and that is all HIM. I give Him all the praise and glory because I had failed. I didn't lean into Him and His glory, but my own. And in my own power, I failed. But He doesn't fail.

I have not touched a drop of alcohol since that day and I’ve not had any desire to and my relationship with my Heavenly Father is so special today. It's mine. It's personal. It's miraculous.

So, when I started this group, it was from a place of healing and restoration for me. I’m a work in progress too and even though I was saved and loved the Lord. Until that day, I had never experienced Him like this.

It shouldn’t have had to take Jerry dying, but it did and He knew it would and I believe He used Jerry's death and my childhood and my hurts to bring me to this place. This place of healing.

November 23, 2020

It's been a long day. I find myself more irritable as I get closer to the anniversary of Jerry's passing (25th). Like I'm on edge and little things just pi$$ me off.

I try to stop and recognize that even though it's been 6 years this year, I'm working through the anger.

Anger that he couldn't stop drinking, anger that I wasn't enough, anger that I'm at this stage of my life and alone (by choice now). Anger at the crappy things that happened. Ever feel that way? C'mon I cannot be the only one?

BUT....

I remember something I heard on Dr. Phil multiple times (and again today ironically). Anger is just a mask for hurt, sadness, frustration, loneliness.

So, for the next few days I'm going to try really hard to be happy and celebrate all that our lives were when he was here.

Not always perfect, but what is?

Let's laugh.

Jerry was notorious for talking and walking in his sleep. It used to really