Perfectly Flawed

Oxymoron…funny word. I recently read an article that spoke of wabi sabi. I had never heard of this however it intrigued me to the point that I did more reading and discovered that no matter the flaws, we are perfectly and wonderfully made.
From the very beginning, I was judged on everything; my words, my actions, my looks, my body. Every little thing was scrutinized by him. He who thought he was perfect, was also flawed.
For too many years, I refrained from saying as much, however, as time went on and the girls got older, I began fighting back. I was told that I was in rebellion and that I was going to hell if I didn’t correct my attitude.
I learned early on, that no matter what, I was going to do everything I could, to protect them. Contradictions were plentiful in our house and unfortunately, the girls had to see and hear more than they ever should have. I truly believed I was doing a good job serving as their Mother and Father.
Sadly, once they were in their mid teens, I realized all the negativity affected them and I couldn’t back pedal fast enough. It was too late.
There were days when I would hear him fighting with one or both of the girls and as I approached their room, I could hear the bulk of the argument. Once he knew I was present, he would storm off, ranting and raving about “their disrespectful attitudes” toward him.
I called it “the evil visitor”. They had very rough monthly’s, as did I, when I was a teen, and I would tell them not to worry and I would help them get comfortable so they could rest. I would then find him and try and explain what was going on. No amount of logic made it through. His lack of emotional maturity was profound and so I was left with playing goalie every time the “evil visitor” would return.
This same lack of maturity presented itself too often and over the years the girls and I were forced to uproot and move because as he would put it, “I’m tired of living and working here so I’ve put in for a transfer”. I would discover my heart in my feet as I attempted to explain to the girls that we were moving once again and depending on their age, I could usually soften the blow somewhat.
His wandering spirit was constantly disturbed and trying to rationalize with him was fruitless. After all, this was the way he grew up so in his mind, moving every year or so was normal.
The longest of our “stays” was in central California and although it lasted from 1996 til 2007, we still moved around the county three times before he announced we were moving yet again. By this time, the girls were grown but still living at home. They had acquired jobs by this point and were enjoying their new found freedoms and as much as I tried, I couldn’t find ways for them to stay and continue working. So off we went to Northern California.
He tried convincing the girls that there was a lot to do up there and I think they bought into his odd, immature excitement.
Drastic changes were about to be had and nothing would ever be the same, except he and his self centered, critical and judgemental ways.
This move was further away from my Dad and one of my brothers, who was also, as HE would put it, “just another idiot inmate”.

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