I am so sick of hearing about Jesus. Why is it ok for Christians to push their religion on anyone who breathes, but I cannot express to them how I think they are mindless drones. I am an atheist. I am very against any sort of organized religion. I believe that religion is simply a way for people to feel better about their upcoming ending. When I go to their house I have to put up with praying, jesus music, endless talking about god this and god that. Well when they come to my house they should have to put up with horror movies, the occasional swear word, and my alternative music, I like listen to music and play games in the olympic kingsway casinos to make some money. It’s only fair. I’ve tried attending church, to see if I could buy in to the massive hypnosis, but I just can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in being a good person, good friend, good citizen, kind to the environment and animals, and helping out the community in general. I just don’t believe that some all powerful force dropped his son onto the planet to save us all. Sorry.
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I’m sitting here with the intention of writing my paper that is due next week, but my thoughts are spinning around. In fact, lately there have been many thoughts and emotions left unspoken and unexpressed. Not that we have to voice every thought or display every emotion, but hiding who you are too much is not healthy. In fact it can cause someone to lose themselves over time, a piece at a time. Therefore, to become at peace with myself, I am starting a journal. Not with intention of gaining any notoriety. Yes, it is on the internet…but my real name is not used, I intend for it to remain an anonymous method of self-expression. There are so many blogs out there that this will most likely never be read by anyone other than myself. That’s ok. I definitely do not want any friends or family to connect this with me, since that would ruin the intention of having a space to be real.
There have been many times that I’ve intended to start a journal. I never kept a diary as a child or teen. Really I’ve never taken the time to write down my thoughts. I’ve purchased beautiful journals to use, but they sit empty on the bookshelf – too pretty to ruin with my mere ramblings. The problem with paper journals is that other forms of expression are hard to add. I’m very interested in learning photography and want pictures to become part of my journaling. Or perhaps I’ll bring in my other hobby of reading into my journal somehow. We’ll see how it goes.
Should you happen upon this site and want to read about fluffy kittens and rainbows, please look elsewhere. I am a worrier, and have many things on my mind. I intend to discuss them. Also, my grammar and punctuation may not be the best but perhaps those will improve with time and practice.
So, back to the primary thought running through my head at the moment, keeping me from my task at hand. My mother had a mastectomy less than a week ago. I had pre-planned a week visit with them, and found out about the surgery on the way to their house today. A mastectomy is a big deal. Cancer is a big deal. My heart hurts for her. But I am also hurt because of her. My mom would have been the first person I contacted should I have needed a mastectomy. Why am I not high on her list of people that need to know? All of their church friends know. I am family, her only daughter. What is that about? Not wanting me to worry? BS. That is what family is for, to lean on. I’m not the best daughter, I know. I’m married, in school, and working – busy. I live hours away, but they are the ones who moved away, not me. My parents are retired, not a lot going on. Except for church, but that is a whole other worry / issue, so that will be a post for another day.
I was the last to know in their circle of people. Can I be the bigger person and let it go and just focus on caring for her during this time? Yes. But the hurt is there and it makes me re-think my place in their heart, and theirs in mine. Will they now be top on my list of people to tell if I was injured or ill? I’m not so sure anymore. I miss who my parents use to be.
The truth is that I love them, but do not like who they have become. Bad daughter of the year award? Probably in the mail on its way to me now.