Written @ 1:01 p.m. on 2007-05-03
Gratitude
Main Entry: grat�i�tude
Pronunciation: 'gra-t&-"t�d, -"ty�d
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French or Medieval Latin; Anglo-French, from Medieval Latin gratitudo, from Latin gratus grateful
: the state of being grateful : THANKFULNESS
I am so grateful for the good things in my life. I mean, a big, huge, swelling heart of gratitude. I had a long talk with an ex-boyfriend who stopped me from hurting myself last winter. I hadn't seen him for months, but we are still tight buddies. He was totally astounded by the turn around in my attitude, the confidence, the sparkle in my eyes that he had never seen before. He had only known the "Hanging By A Thread Hil". I wish I could go back in time and date him again, whole and healthy. I love B. He is a huge part of the reason that I am so much healthier now, but with this old boyfriend I just want to say,"Look what you saved! You did a wonderful thing by believing in me when I didn't. You imagined a flower could come from that tiny mustard seed of faith. A flower? Shit, a bush. A garden! I argued with you, tooth and nail, insisting that I was nothing but a sick dog begging to be put down. You refused to listen. Thankyou! I am so grateful to you! I never could have imagined what lay ahead."
I'm going to cry. This guy is a big guy, shaped like a barrel and covered in tattoos. His hair is blue, or purple, or pink, and various piercings poke him full of holes. He is a tattoo artist, the kind of guy you wouldn't want your daughter to date. He wears t-shirts that say things like,"It's not rape if she's already dead." This guy, nearly as depressed as myself, saved my life. He saved my kids' mother, and he saved my parents' daughter.
No one knew but he how very VERY serious I was. It wasn't that I didn't have interest in life, it was this crushing, bone crunching agony of sadness that came down like a physical pain. I couldn't escape without drugs. I refused drugs. I knew I had to go straight through the suffering. I would have given my eyes to just feel numb. I think I tried bargaining with god, but no deal.
(VOice one=Oh, boo hoo! Another diary entry about some whiny girl and the SHEAR AGONY OF HER LIFE because her mommy didn't buy her a pony. Get over it!
Me= No, man. I'm not talking about a teenaged angst thing. This is after losing my kids, starving, moving to a new city, and finding myself totally alone.)
My ex boyfriend came from an old pennsylvania dutch family. They love Polka. He did a polka dance to cheer me up. Imagine, tattoos and blue hair bouncing all around! He said, well, ok, you've made your decision. Let's teach you to smoke, you can't get cancer now! He tried to teach me to take long drags from his marlboro. He said,"Take a quick breath, like,"Oh no! Here come's my mom!"
He called all of our friends and had them come to my apartment and tell me they loved me. He called my parents and told them I needed help. I hated him for doing it. I damned him to hell, the liar. The betrayer. The life-saver. He barely knew me. We had been dating less than two months. I broke it off with him. If I hadn't, I never would have met B.
I'm lucky for the people I have in my life. I'm grateful to be alive. And I Fiiiiiiiiiinally have my kids.