I have been here in Ohio for a full day. In this one day I've been here, I already feel like its time to leave again. This place depresses me more than what I ever can convince myself of when I'm not here. I don't have a clue as to why this? Actually. I probably do. I walk in and the house is crawling with junk my family has managed to stock up on and its ready to attack at any nudge or bump taken the wrong way. This house has a history of swallowing your stuff. I don't even know how many different things I've lost to its madness, but you can hopefully imagine my thrill when my mother told me I would be unloading my possessions into this house and not my grandma's.
Another is my mother's uncanny ability to get me frustrated with life in general. I don't understand how she lives the way she does. I don't understand how I've managed to even remotely turn out okay in any way growing up with all this. My family is so broken. You guys honestly could not even begin to understand how much I owe to God in shaping who I am today. Seriously.
I guess all this could be the closest way to feel what a broken home MIGHT feel like? At least to go back to one? To be excited to see everyone because of all the change you've made in your life and then to be disappointed when you find out that your family really is exactly how you left them. To find out your city is really exactly how you left it. To find out you've been living in the one exception to a dynamic world and that you chose to come back for a while.
I'm starting to realize that some of the bad habits that remain with me are not as much me not trying hard enough to break them, but that it might just be that these habits are all I know in my narrow view of life. I've never learned a different way of things. I'm starting to see that the Army will be even more so a detox than I can even care to imagine.
My brother Matthew asked me something interesting today. He asked me if I was scared to die because the Army isn't a very safe place to be. I started thinking of all this junk I've already experienced being back for one day when I've been trying my hardest to forget some of it out at college and then at Atlanta, and I told him there are worse things than dying, which some of you know, is my typical response for this question. Next, he ask me what? What is worse than dying? Well...living the way we've been living thus far is much worse. I want a better way of life.
I Am Adam Lanza's Teacher
11 years ago
1 comment:
I remember going to all the ciy events and such and kids would talk about the broken homes they come from and it always seemed like ours wasn't broken because we had two parents or weren't poor. But I realize more and more that our family is broken and we don't even realize it. Before it made me feel guilty to even think that it was but I am discovering that most Americans are coming from broken homes because love is becoming a rarity in America. Like in the Cold War Kids song "you raise your kids to be American. You treat them like an obligation." I'm just trying to break free of that place now.
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