Written Letters

As I laid in my room last night I was filled with memories. I knew when I started writing my truths it would open up "old wounds". I have a hard time calling it that because my situation made me grow as a person. I hold that close to my heart. It is my sanity in an insane life. Pain makes us grow. "It breaks you or makes you" another true statement. I started to remember all the letters I wrote, all the poetry I wrote. I was really good at poetry but they were very dark. Just because that was what I felt more deeply. In the institutions we had contact by written letters. I remember sending probably hundreds out. Every day around noon they came in with the mail. Everyday I hoped that one of those letters were for me. Everyday I was let down. When you have hope for something that you get excited about and are continuously let down something breaks sooner or later. Same as with my ex husband. Every day I worked. I cooked and cleaned and you could eat off my floors. Everyday he would come home and not notice. I said something to him and he says "Why should you get a pat on the back for something you are supposed to be doing?" Now that I can look at everything without the crap on my eyes I can see. I can see that the reason why I needed a pat on the back was to lift me up. The same with the letters. One letter telling me "I love you." One letter telling me everything was going to be okay. That I was just a damaged girl but I was good enough to be loved anyways. So when I tell you to always be there for people suffering these are key words. In telling them that yes I know you hurt but your hurt is not more than my love for you. The same with God. Even though I have failed in every relationship, in all relationships in my life that I could never fail God. That He knew all my pain and struggles. After I found out who God really was it was a lot to know that He knew my life before I lived it. Why would he let me go through all of this pain? Why would He let me be secluded and put away for so long?Then I realized that there is free will. When you add my mental challenge on top of it and the time I grew up in. People did not know how to help me. We were just coming out of the days of some pretty wicked asylums. Do I realize my life could of been worse? Absolutely. But with the same aspect do I realize people could have been better and gentler with me. One letter to tell me that I was loved and not forgotten. That I was a blessing not a curse. Would it have made a difference? Maybe. Maybe if I would have gotten letters I wouldn't be writing this letter to you. Until next time my friends.