This Should Be The End of It
When I was little I had to sometimes wait for my punishments. If I did something in the afternoon, I sometimes wouldn’t get a spanking until just before I went to bed. This causes a child to have premature heart attacks. I would be on my best behavior all day thinking that if I did something good, I would somehow forego the spanking in the evening. It never worked.
I feel like I’m that little kid again. I know what I did was wrong. I’m not making any excuses. I haven’t made any to myself and I refuse to make any here. However, I feel like I’m waiting for my punishment. Somehow God will punish me. I’m sure of that. And there’s not much I can do between now and bedtime to make Him forget.
But I have to say I love my friends. I love my friends for calling my bullshit. I love my friends for not sugar coating. I love my friends for dishing it out. I’ve done the same to them in the past. I know it will make me a better person. I feel like shit. The worst kind of shit. And I know he’s fine. At home. Enjoying his life. That’s ok. It’s not about him. It’s about me. And what I’m going to do to get over this. I talked to Jules tonight. I love her because she’s not judgmental. She chastises. But she also helps. So, per Julie’s insight, I’m writing a letter. I’m not sharing it with you because it’s none of your business. I’m not sending it to him because it’s not about him. It’s about me. And how I screwed up. And how I’m going to pay. And how, with time and repentance, this too shall pass.
I feel like I’m that little kid again. I know what I did was wrong. I’m not making any excuses. I haven’t made any to myself and I refuse to make any here. However, I feel like I’m waiting for my punishment. Somehow God will punish me. I’m sure of that. And there’s not much I can do between now and bedtime to make Him forget.
But I have to say I love my friends. I love my friends for calling my bullshit. I love my friends for not sugar coating. I love my friends for dishing it out. I’ve done the same to them in the past. I know it will make me a better person. I feel like shit. The worst kind of shit. And I know he’s fine. At home. Enjoying his life. That’s ok. It’s not about him. It’s about me. And what I’m going to do to get over this. I talked to Jules tonight. I love her because she’s not judgmental. She chastises. But she also helps. So, per Julie’s insight, I’m writing a letter. I’m not sharing it with you because it’s none of your business. I’m not sending it to him because it’s not about him. It’s about me. And how I screwed up. And how I’m going to pay. And how, with time and repentance, this too shall pass.
Actually, that's a really good idea. A letter will help. I've done it before. *sending silent support*
Posted by
Summer |
Tue Jul 25, 09:24:00 PM EDT
yes, that is a good idea. and you can leave it out for daddy kiki to read when you're at work.
or you could send it to daddy calvin. maybe he has a medieval coloring book for you that relates to this whole situation!
Posted by
Pocket Kip |
Wed Jul 26, 09:48:00 AM EDT
Silent letters always help. No one else knows what you write and for some odd reason, you feel so much better.
Posted by
Jen |
Fri Jul 28, 02:00:00 PM EDT