This girl; she is more common than you realize. She is your sister, your mother, your wife or girlfriend. She is the lady beside you at church that cries every Sunday. She is your grandmother, your teacher, your coach, your therapist, your doctor; or maybe she is you. And, she is just as loved by God as you are. We don't know her backstory, we don't know what led her to a choice we may not choose or understand, and very few understand the torment that consumes her life after she realizes what she's done.
"This family photo was as forced as the smiles on our faces. Behind each of our smiles was exhaustion, disappointment, frustration, stress and the faith of the tiniest mustard seed."
The way I see it is we are all one paycheck away from homeless, one lost job from a tent, one mental breakdown from a tarp and one life shattering moment from a cart holding all that is left.
Every year just before Christmas, my husband’s grandma would call him and invite us to the family breakfast at our local Elmer’s restaurant. “Matthew, this is Grandma”, she’d say, and he would respond by saying, “Yes Grandma, I know it is you, it says your name in my phone” and they would share a laugh.
Did I feel like a jerk and a failure on the days when I couldn't hang with the super stepmoms? Sure. But you can't base your days or family dynamics on other blended families or stepparents. It's okay to not have it figured out, it's the quitting that's bad. You have to ask yourself why God has put you where you are and how you can be used for good. There is a purpose to his plan, and you are more than capable.
She said "Will you go up there with me?" and I of course said yes. I said yes, because well I am in church, and what kind of a Christian would I be, if I said no?! I wanted to do what God would do, and because she needed my help. She asked me my name, and I told her, and she smiled as if she already knew and was confirming that she had the right person.
The honest and good men, they exist, and I didn't have to settle, I didn't have to allow him to hurt me to feel loved temporarily, or chase him for attention, affection, or temporary stability. He chose to stay, he chose to be kind, to be considerate, to listen, to communicate and to love me for me - even when I feel like I don’t deserve it. And, he makes that choice every day, because he chooses to.
If I am being honest with myself, I knew when he asked to call me mom, my answer was not coming from a kind and loving place. I knew I was coming from a "you already have a mom, and you are her responsibility, not mine" type of place. And, a place of "you are too much "work" for me."
Co-parenting with a narcissist is like being the tin man from the wizard of oz, having motion sickness, on the downward spiral of a roller coaster, with a loose harness, after eating ice cream and 5 corn dogs - doing the tango with a peg leg and an eye patch all the while sewing back together and re-stuffing down feathered pillows your dog chewed up and scattered throughout the back forty - it's freaking difficult!!