No matter how many schools you go to you realize pretty quick, they’re all the same. There are teachers who care, teachers who don’t, there’s sad classrooms with art meant to inspire, and hallways either filled with students or resembling a ghost town. The kids have their groups minus a few lone stragglers and everyone knows where you belong and they will put you there, quick.  

Then of course there’s the cafeteria. This is where all kids are gathered in a frenzy of chaos. Mixing all social groups together where they’ll also be surrounded by their personal support group for unleashed hormonal outbreaks. NOT GOOD! 

On my third day at this school and fourth day in the new group home it happened. A girl I was sitting close to leaned close to me and said “she’s gonna hurt you” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about but my head popped up and looked around the cafeteria in a panic. When did the cafeteria get quite? When did everyone start looking at me?  Then I noticed her. A tall girl with dark brown hair and a face of fury was heading my way. “Oh God, what do I do?” “What did I do?” I looked for an exit but it was further away then she was. My heart was racing because I’ve seen that look before. A face bent on pounding mine in. Panic was flooding me, I could hear my heartbeat. If I cry for mercy I won’t find any sympathy the rest of the time I attend school here. If I knew what I’d done I could try to defend myself but no. I’m the new girl and I must have broken a rule I wasn’t aware of. Talked to a boy who is forbidden territory in their seventh grade minds. Or maybe I made friends with an enemy and I’m just the example. It’s simply new kid status. Veteran students are either enamored with them, disgusted by them, or simply plan to show them how things are done in their neck of the woods. 

Here it is. Do or die. Fight or Flight. The closer she got the more I searched frantically for a way out. She could take me, she is twice my size, my only advantage would be to throw the first punch. She stepped through the wall of middle schoolers and into my personal space then  said “I’m gonna kick” and I jumped up and punched her in the face with every inch of fear I had. All the panic, adrenaline and pure terror I had flowing through me was making contact with her face. I couldn’t stop until someone literally picked me up from behind and put my arms behind my back and she kicked making contact with  my ribs because her arms were also being pinned. Rapidly breathing I looked around at my peers as they were gasping, giggling and even cheering. After that my new girl status was gone and my label was one of crazy, fighter and not scared. 

No fear? How did they figure that. Fear is who fought the fight, not me. I didn’t want to start this, I preferred to be almost invisible. I hated when the principle lectured me and the kids now befriended me for no reason or avoided me like I was trouble. My heart is not full of anger, desire to hurt someone, seem like a a tough person or be seen by everyone. It’s just simple, it’s not my first new school, it’s not my first cafeteria, it’s not the first time the gate opened and I reacted like a caged animal and fought my way out. 

 I was listening to this girl talk. She was just talking. It was obvious that everyone around her was annoyed with her rambling because she kept interjecting her nonsense into other conversations. She lacked eye contact but she had extreme hand motions and facial reactions that almost seemed like what she had to say would be interesting but, no. While the present company was discussing the new construction on the road close by she was interjecting her concerns about a film left behind on her teeth. WOW! How can you not know how to communicate better than that. I watched the train wreck in silence. Over and over people would roll from conversation to conversation and she would just blurt out random facts that weren’t directed to anyone or about anything on the topic at hand. The basis of every solid foundation is communication. How can you learn to bond with others if you never learn when to listen, and when to talk and even past that what’s important to talk about. Day after day I talk to the live of my life. I tell him there’s a school program coming up, I ask him to pic up the pictures sent to Walgreen, I talk about upcoming events. Though this is fine how often do I talk about how grateful I am for him, or let him know what I need emotionally? Then I realized how often I treat my prayer life so nonchalantly. I talk, I ramble, I ask, too often I ramble. So I decided to analyze the Lords Prayer and teach myself how to stop my communication with God from being hijacked. 

HIJACK                                                                    Honor- Address and acknowledge  our father, recognize His name and station

Include- Know that it’s His plan, His will, praying to be included in building our home in glory.                                                 

Just Ask- Ask for those things that concern us, ask for comfort or guidance.                   

Apologize-Beg for forgiveness and ask for help offering forgiveness towards others

Control- Give Him control over our path ask Him to detour us away from weaknesses of the flesh

Know -Know that you have talked with your Father our God Almighty, Know that He has all things in His hands, know that you can leave it there)

Protect your communication and work hard to express yourself but also remember  that lines of communication go both ways so learn to be still and listen to the one who longs to hear from you. 

 I have so much to say but nothing seems right. In a hospital many miles from me he took his last breath. Some one thought I needed to see this and put it on social media. My thoughts were dark and confusing. Here is this person who had so much power over my life gasping for air. What do you want me to say? How do you want me to feel? Should I display grief? Am I supposed to cry? Am I supposed to celebrate? Please, somebody, anybody tell me how I should feel, because my feelings don’t come out right and my responses all seem wrong. No, I haven’t yelled at anyone. I didn’t throw painful accusations. However, I did cry. I cried for the relationship that was destroyed. I hid, I didn’t take my calls because I was a coward. Scared of my own feelings towards his passing I shut down communication. I can’t pretend to know how they expect me to react. They didn’t know the man I grew up under. They only knew the old and defenseless man, the man of jokes from his hospital bed. In his passing his life was celebrated by those who knew him in his golden years. I never wanted to steal that from him so they can think what they want. I will be the heartless daughter who is too busy to be bothered. I can wear the title of selfish offspring so they can cherish the precious memories they have of him. I grieved  the loss of my father many years ago when I washed away childish hopes of recovery for a broken man determined to ruin me.