Storms brewing.

Here in mid Missouri today the storms are brewing all around us. Much like life. Our weather comes in predictable patterns and they are needed to sustain growth, maturity for flowers, crops.. they offer some relief from the heat that’s been overpowering in the summer days. Rainy days are needed. Rain washes away the dust that has sat iddle until disturbed. Allows growth and new blooms, it brings about color and new air. But sometimes they come in a form of pop up storms ..they yield little to no warning. They blow in with intent to destroy with gusting winds and down pours, drowning out any progress.

I look at the connection between mother nature and our physical beings. Alike the storms that are predictable, forcasted, known.. we have time to prepare. Take warning. Take steps to remain safe. For the pop up storms we are blindsided, given little to no warning and they can wreck havoc. For months now I’ve been stuck in the continued cycle of pop up storms. Just when I think I have taken the last hit another one comes along and rocks my foundation that I work so hard to build. A foundation where I can stand and begin to heal. A foundation that doesn’t judge my grief and allows me the space I need to thrive, my own way. The walls I’ve built are for protection from the storms. They are weak, not strong enough to handle a major storm. I grow weary with each board I put up, that it can just as easily be knocked down again. My progress is in jeopardy by things I can not control, like the weather.

I’ve been hurt in my life. A lot of lies. I’ve lost a lot in my life, my son. Family and friends. I’ve prevailed through most of what life has thrown at me up until I had to bury my son. Since then it’s been a losing game. A game others play with my emotions for sport, fun. I ask myself often what did I do to deserve so much pain? Is this a punishment for being such a horrible child? What? Why? Are constant questions that fill my mind.

I have been obsessed with storms since a tornado ripped through our rural area in 2006. It was so close to destroying everything we had worked so hard for. We saw the aftermath of such power. We heard its mass amount of energy as it passed by us like the sound of a train. It missed us. I became engulfed in wanting to understand how it hit our neighbors on both sides of us but not us. We felt lucky. Fortunate. Spared.

I equated that to life up until we lost our son we felt like we had been fortunate, our little family thrived, we worked hard for what we had and took pride in the simple things. We felt spared from any disasters, debree from storms had little to no damage for us.. we just kept pressing on in life. And then we were hit with the ultimate disaster. The death of our son. It felt like a storm had blew in like a lion and took our son. Non of it made sense to me. How could we not have seen that this storm was building. It was coming right at us and we didn’t see or hear the warning sirens. He was just gone. Like a raging war between life and death, the storm won. The devestaion that was left behind, pieces to be picked up and put together, the anguish that took hold of our happy little family tore us to shreds, it all felt like being hit by a F5 tornado. Shock, dazed, I couldn’t see past the choas, the rubble of emotions that filled my insides. I was destroyed.

I find myself still digging through the rubble of emotions, memories, life.. ever since that day our son was taken from us, three years seven months ago. It has not gotten easier to withstand the next storm, ones we can prepare for or pop ups create such anxiety and fear of more loss. More heartache. After all how many times can a family be hit head on and come out ok?

The latest pop up storm in my life was the day after my last birthday, five months ago. The results from an DNA Ancestry test came in. I had taken the test out of curiosity of what made me who I was. My make up, back ground. Not growing up with my biological father I always felt like I lacked the nessesary information to feel like I knew my whole self. I found that when your entire world gets rocked, your faith gains you strength and knowing is power to grow. I was in desperate need for growth.

Nervously I opened the results and instantly sat in shock. Bewildered by the name that popped up as my father. A man whose name I had never heard. Not the man I was told was my father all of my life. Fourty two years. The instant betrayal slapped me in the face. I felt like a whirlwind came and had me spinning in circles in my head trying to make sense out of what I was reading. The lies, misguidance.. I in fact knew very little about who I was.

What a storm? What a set back in picking up the rubble of my life!! I’ve had to learn to start over alot since losing my son.. yet again I found myself at ground zero. But I remain. No wind, rain, broken branches of my family tree will keep me from pushing on for my children. My husband. And the constant need to honor our late son. I just keep picking up the pieces and one day hope to see the full picture again. I vow to not let another storm catch me off guard. I intently watch the sky, look for signs, allow my internal compass to keep me aligned within my ability to foresee. To stay two steps ahead and keep my distance from anything that could rock my foundation again. My existance depends on it.

With Love, hugs and understanding, you are not alone. We all struggle and we all need affirmation.

Angela, Kennybugs Momma!

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