The Bittersweet Marvels from the Spiritual Intervention

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Resentment of the Unknown

One of the things that kept me from being open about seeing things in a much more positive light came from various factors. The chaos and the destruction that in most recent times has seemed to get worst instead of getting better, human nature can be the purest evil that the world has ever seen, and all the horrible things that happened to me in my life. For the longest time, I prided myself in being a survivor of various things; domestic violence, child abuse, and sexual assault at an early age. But the thing that I began to realize is that these pains from the past were never truly resolved. Like everyone else in this hive mind in the self-sabotaging practice of groupthink. I learned how to conceal these pains just like everyone else, through conditioned and mimicked behavior from social normality, which had a mantra of “seeming emotional or weak were signs of weakness.” But later on in my battles through survival, I would quickly learn that sometimes you have to use the power that one possesses when they seem vulnerable. The truth is, regardless of how much people say they don’t discriminate or segregate, it becomes an act of rationalizing and internalizing. A behavior that is learned through interaction with modern-day society.  After breaking away from groupthink, I was much more receptive to the mysteries of the unknown, which in many cases have become the act of divine intervention.

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The hardest thing despite this enlightened idealism, it still became hard to accept the mysteries of the unknown, as in many cases, it induced heartbreak and pain but in a different way. A way that still seemed to be self-sacrificing with that tiny smudge of entitlement that was still present from the self-doubt that seems to be natural when you’re in a new chapter in your life and things seem to go wrong. But the heartbreak in seeing my father in a state that is almost an interactive unconscious, which I began to realize, was the love I had for someone that they still seemed not to have for themselves. Attempting to sway those to get the proper care they needed to become physically healthy was the most stressful and traumatic thing that made me realize where my urgency stemmed from. Because many minority groups, which includes those living in poverty, seem to wait till things get dangerously worst to get the proper care they need to get back to health. In many cases; seeking treatment would become a lost cause due to the delayed response regarding the health condition that already became terminal and untreatable, which go of the control to sway them and just become supportive, still attempting to point out why in my opinion, it was the right reason to seek help, especially with the existing health conditions they already had. Became the tragedy in my journey and the heartbreak that I currently face in helping my father come back from his stroke-like comatose symptoms that we currently need to nurse back to health in the hospital, already preparing for the worst-case scenario case he remains in this permanent state.

In my dad’s observations, these temporary states seemed to be induced by a highly deficient blood sugar level. I instructed my father to stop taking his medicine due to the minimal sugar intake he’s been currently taking, which in the noticeable changes that he wanted to make towards getting his health better became the act of taking his insulin when he shouldn’t have may have been the cause of these stroke-like episodes. In my hospital visit right now, which seemed to be the case, his nurse said he was more responsive when his sugar was up. Still suspicious of the potential of a stroke but at the same time, monitoring his sugar as it wouldn’t regulate to normal. As bittersweet as it was, my father seemed to be reliving his life in these states, an answer he couldn’t provide when he would get out of these spells. The nurse mentioned that when he asked what the year was, he was in the early 1980s, weeks away from the day I would come to the world. Once I came into the room, he spoke to me in his comatose trance-like state as he passed a joint to me and the nurse, mumbling about the happiness he has for me coming into the world. I couldn’t help to get emotional when this happened because the truth is, my dad is my world as I was his world when he took responsibility and raised me for some of the things that occurred under my mother’s watch during their divorce. The truth is, despite the hurt and the falling out my father and mother had. He still had compassion towards my mother. He always encouraged me of what I had, which was refreshing as in some of the previous episodes, it looked like he was going through emotional pain from the previous occurrences. The bittersweet part of the heartbreaking experience is that he at least was somewhere that brought him joy very long ago. And in this experience, I was able to experience, witness, and feel the light that shined so bright in him. 

The Struggle with my Spiritual Intervention

One of the biggest fears my dad always openly voiced was that he never wanted to be put into a nursing home, a place where he truly felt all the forgotten and unwanted elderly go, as in his guilt of feeling that he was a horrible parent. He felt that he would be one of many in that demographic that many adult children take their parents when they don’t want them. Which becomes the insecurity of pride that he felt he lost when he felt stripped of his independence. This makes everything that happened much clearer to me as to why I lost it all and had to come back home. The truth is, the nursing home isn’t an option as the same sacrifices that he did willingly are the same I am willing to provide to him. The hardest part of this journey was letting go of all the material value that I lost, a test that seems to test my morality and my loyalty to my father. I was willing to give up the purest act of selflessness, as it also allowed me to follow my passion, writing. It has taken a lot of adjusting as the truth is home health care providers don’t get paid shit. But it still gives me the freedom and the ability to write stories, and fingers crossed.; getting a book deal from a writing mentor and agent who has given me the tools to improve my writing and, in his words, “break me out of the habit of writing like a beginner and to write like a New York Times Best Seller. Another miracle in the mysteries of the unknown as my Twitter presence is a bit non-existent, which turned out to be a fan of the self-help book I wrote. My sci-fi series “The Rideshare Chronicles” is said to be beautifully written with obvious talent. Which also gave me some insight into the current pieces I have already written. Which becomes the potential of becoming a script, something I never expected to have a hidden talent for. But of course, still holding on to the smear of self-doubt, it was hard for me to believe it. But in the end, it is something my father always wanted for me was to chase my dreams. In a sense, despite whether my father feels like he was a bad father, he paved the way for me to become something that I always wanted to be in his unconscious self-sacrifice. And despite if my father never comes back to his usual self, well, in the end, it becomes a labor of love on both parts. And in the end, that is the most selfless thing anyone can ever do for someone. And the sacrifices through the struggle of continuing the journey without the comforts of what used to become the most significant challenge and the most triumphant accomplishment that I will ever make in my life.  The one lesson life has never failed to teach me is that bad things never last forever if you keep the faith, hope, and in the end. Not only for me but for the world around me.  A miracle in the act of surrendering. The true mystery of the unknown. And as hard as it is to believe, especially when we see those that we love the most going through their trials and tribulations, everything happens for a reason. But the truth is it’s not our job to figure that out for someone else, it’s their job to figure it out for themselves. And all we can do during their search is to be compassionate, patient, and above all supportive, until they reach the answers they have been searching for their whole life. With compassion and without judgment and without bias.

Published by Frieda Lopez at Frieda the Writer

Frieda López is the writer for Journey of an Unraveled Road who was born and raised in San Antonio, TX. Through her professional career in Customer Relations and Retail Management, she has utilized her experience and interactions with the behavioral patterns, which was used to start her personal journey with Journey of A Unraveled Road as her debut novel. She has completed philosophy, psychology, and theology courses at San Antonio College as well as creative writing courses. Frieda López has been a lifelong writer since 2nd grade. A survivor of childhood trauma, childhood abuse, and domestic violence, she wrote this piece, which started this book as her personal journey; works from home in San Antonio, TX.

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