Dear Nasty Trolls

Dear Nasty Trolls:

I wrote "A Broken House" last week after a morning of deep spiritual soul searching.  My purpose was to highlight how God was using this time in MY life to change ME, make ME a different sort, make ME exam MYSELF in a magnified way that is painful.  I am more than well aware that given the opportunity to go into a growing season, my first response is always to whine about it.  I try hard to see the blessings in what might be a very pleasant season overall but which involves change.  Pruning hurts.  Straining to recover from pruning hurts. Healing hurts.  It just does.

But the response from that post was not at all what I expected.  Many of you lovely ones were very sympathetic which I appreciate but it wasn't my purpose.  However, two Troll comments were just horribly nasty and hurtful and hateful and  those two "brazen" souls did the usual and hadn't the courage and conviction to sign their own name to their bit of hate mail.  I did what I always do with unsigned hate mail and will continue to do in future:  I deleted it.  But I can't delete the hurt it renders me right away, nor the questions it puts upon my mind about my purpose in sharing my deepest thoughts.

I am purposefully honest.  Because none of us are perfect and some have been struggling with similar situations and feeling as I feel but have nowhere to share that they do.  I want to be honest about my failings.  I'm not a perfect cardboard cut out woman who has a permanent smile plastered on her face.  I frown and cry and laugh and whine.  I have real feelings that I want to master rather than allow them to master me.  I am an introvert and I NEED alone time.  Alone time is essential to my peace of mind.  Alone time is rare in an extreme just now.  It didn't start in March when my son and his wife moved in.  We've had an almost constant stream of guests since November, most of whom arrived with no particular time line in leaving.  Many of my usual alone days have been sacrificed for family needs, due to illnesses, moves, etc.

My intent is never to hurt my family with my words nor my writing.  In all the years I've written I've said very little about slights or hurts or harsh words that reflected poorly on any but myself.  It is a fact that sometimes being in a family is damned uncomfortable.  There are misunderstandings, missteps, wrongs done, petty quarrels and really hurtful ones, as well. There are heartaches we must bear that are not something we can share.    Before I post anything on this blog, I carefully read through it both in the moment of passionate writing and in a calmer frame of mind to insure that what I've written is not a reflection on any but myself.  If I am the least bit unsure, I run it through my most unbiased and honest critic, John.  He never lets me get away with being catty or witchy.  He is quick to point out if my 'revelation' is actually something that might wound another.  

I am a blessed woman.  I have great kids.  I like their partners and even when I was challenged by previous partners I didn't like, it was never stated here.  They were the chosen partner to my child and I respected that fact.  I have not attempted to put Bess or Sam in a bad light.  They are in an uncomfortable situation as well.  They live in a home that is not theirs with ways and routines that are not theirs.   They rise earlier than I am wont to rise.   We go to bed later than they do.  We don't watch the same TV programs (well Sam and I do and Bess and John do, but there's still that tug and pull).  My latter years parenting style is different than theirs, which doesn't make their ways wrong.  I like my house to be kept in a manner that might seem unimportant to them.  But we all try hard to adjust.  All of the adjustments made in this household are not being made by long suffering poor old me.   They chip in with clean up and meals  daily and expenses when they can and when they can't we understand.   We don't have a 'This is mine' stamp on anything except a bedroom and bathroom.  What is here  is all of ours for the duration.  That's the way it is when you are family living in a home.

Living with others has a rather unpleasant way of showing up the things we mightn't like about one another as much as it has the most pleasant feature of showing up things we really admire in one another.  No grievance has been made publicly first to others and left unaddressed in fact to the people causing it.  I've stepped on parenting toes and poked my nose in where it didn't belong and was told as much, as rightly I ought to have been told.  I've had my toes stepped on and had my grievances which I addressed directly to them.  In both instances we have done all we could to address issues as they arose and not left them to become a  resentment that festered under the surface because we knew we were LIVING together and that it would only work if we all did what we could to ease the way.  

And there are so many pleasures I can't name them all.  It's lovely to have coffee with Bess in the morning.  It's lovely to have her seek me out to sit in the room with me when I'm occupied at my desk.  Often she brings some form of work to do at the table and rocks quietly as she works.  It's lovely to see John with a boy upon each knee and all three giggling madly as he regales them with made up songs.  It's nice to spend time just playing with Josh and Isaac.  I love feeling I've influenced Josh when he comes to me and asks to help and I can show him how to do a small chore or help with a meal.  It's sweet and peaceful to rock a sleepy baby who comes to you and lays his head upon your shoulder.  It's awesome to have Sam come in of an evening and give me a hug or to have him urge me to sit down after supper and watch  a special program he's chosen for the two of us to share.  And that's just a few of the daily DAILY things I enjoy even while my spirit might be chomping at the bit wanting to run free and do other things.

 Anyone who cannot read my words and clearly see that I am also finding many joys in these days is blind.   For anyone to suggest that I have need of therapy is hilarious as much as snarky.  To suggest that I wished my daughter in law would feel unwanted or that I took no pleasure in my grandchildren is just being witchy in the meanest and worst sort of way.  I know that not everyone has a google account or wants one, but there is nothing in this whole world preventing you snarky nasty trolls from signing your name to the end of the post you've so meanly written.  I suggest you try that next time and I'll address you directly rather than taking a whole post to do it.  But there's one option you might also consider:  if you don't like me, don't read here.  You don't have to come to this playground to dirty things up.