Good Morning Beautiful Souls!
My name is Ceri, and I am a middle aged housewife in a small rural town in Florida. Not exciting enough? How about, I am a multi-faceted jewel with the heart of a dragon, the wit of a wood sprite, and the disposition of a fairy? Both statements are true, but some people today seem more drawn to the mystical or fantasy world as an escape from reality. The whole truth is I am a woman who has walked through the many fires of life and survived and I am here to encourage, inspire, and help others to do the same. You name it, and I have probably been through it and I will be completely open and real about it. I don’t believe in being fake. Life is real and our experiences are real. We can either experience them to the fullest and overcome or we can hide in a fantasy realm. I have done both in my life. However, growth in body, mind and spirit only come through the overcoming.
I said I was middle aged. I am 56 years old. However, my true journey in this life only started 4 years ago. Before that, I was only going through the motions of what others expected me to be or do. I was a daughter, a wife, a mother, a teacher, an employee. In all these aspects of my life, I was not me, or better said the me I was created to be. As a daughter, I was obedient and complacent, obeying all the rules and never getting in trouble. As a wife, I provided love and support while receiving none in return. I did all the things a good wife should. I kept a clean home, managed the household and finances, cooked meals from scratch not boxes (including homemade bread and pasta,) raised the children, even to the point of home schooling them. And, not just my children but stray children as well. By stray children I mean children whose parents had thrown them to the streets. I did everything I was taught a good wife should do, and yet lacked the love and support I so desperately needed. So after 23 years, I walked away. I waited until my youngest was almost 18. Why wait so long if I was so unhappy you might ask? Because I didn’t want my children to go through broken home syndrome. I didn’t want them to have to chose between us or to be split between us. Years later, I found out that it wouldn’t have mattered to him if I had left when my children were young and took them with me. This cold hearted man had the audacity to tell our daughter that he had never wanted children and only had them to make me happy and his obligation to my happiness ended when they were born. If he had only been honest with me, mine and my children’s lives would have been completely different.
When I left, he didn’t even ask me why I was leaving or to stay and he even helped me move out. When I left, I had absolutely no self esteem left. He had completely crushed it. I was on my own for the very first time in my whole life. It was terrifying to me. I had always been sheltered as a young girl growing up and really didn’t know learn how to cope with emotional trauma. Not that I hadn’t had trauma in my life but my Dad was always there as comforter and counselor. My Dad crossed over when my youngest was 18 months old so I no longer had my safety net. I had no one to turn to. Friends and family ridiculed me for leaving him. My church family thought I had lost my mind, even though I had begged them for help with my marriage over and over again over the years. So, what does a weak willed, sheltered, housewife with no self esteem and no one to comfort her do in that situation? I turned to the bottle. Whiskey became my best friend. It woke me up in the morning, warmed me throughout the day, comforted me through my tears and lulled me to sleep at night. My new friend helped me go out and socialize and have a good time when I felt like crawling in a hole and dying. My new friend gave me courage, but did nothing for my self esteem. Whiskey didn’t build me up in anyway, it just help me continue to go through the motions of everyday live, right up to the moment when it whispered to me that I was not going anywhere and might as well end it all. That’s right, my new “friend” allowed and even helped the voices in my wounded soul talk me into almost taking my life. Luckily, I was very blessed with another voice, I call him my angel. I had a young man I worked with, a mere aquaintance really who I was socializing with, who was able to see into my soul and realized what was happening and broke though and stopped me. Today, I call him my brother, my angel, and carry his name in a tattoo on my chest as a reminder of how close I came to ending it all. That was 13 years ago, and I am proud to say, not once since then have I ever thought about extinguishing my flame. This was my first step on my new journey and I will be honest, it has not been a smooth one but that’s another story.