My OperaSearching for a Mentor
Thursday, March 16, 2006 10:36:28 PM
I am sure in my spirit that I am not the smartest person around. According to the IQ test that I have taken, I am of average intelligence. I say that to lead to this. I am constantly searching for mentors, for the simple fact that I know I need them.
I need them to be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend. I know my weaknesses, they haunt me, torture me everyday...in my thoughts, because of my own doings. I have been looking for mentors here in Opera. Wondering if I will ever find one, I come across many. And many are not whole.
Thinking that no one person is going to be the whole that I am seeking, I gather up many of them in my mind, and there my mentor is,complete and perfect. My mentor is extremely intelligent, patient, loving, takes me by my hand, kisses my forehead, tells me that everything is going to be okay. My mentor tells me how it is, (the truth) pushes me when I need it, feeds me words of knowledge, and tells me to spread my wings and fly with what I know, for now.
Why should I shed tears wanting someone to look up to, one special person that I can attach to and hold on to? When, I know, in my heart of hearts that that person will never be. I can not even tell you how many times that I cried, being hurt by someone that I thought loved me and wanted to take me under the sheltering wings, only to find out I was fooled by their beauty and nice talking. But I believe that I have also fooled myself by believing I could learn from only one person and they would be happy to teach me.
I am talking about hurt feelings here. And I know why I am broken and easily cracked........
My father and mother raised me until I was 8, together. When my father moved away from us, I was not completely sure that he was really going to be gone for good. I don't want to go on about how I felt, it does no good to even look back. But, there are 2 incidents that I can remember that ABSOLUTELY broke my heart and I still feel the pain today when I think back on them.
The first on, my father breezed into town on a motor cycle. In his leather jacket and his snake skin boots, he was everything to me. The love that I felt for my father was beyond reason. My daddy, mi papa, mi amore, my father. My mother was living in a 3 bedroom apartment working full time trying to raise us. He spent the night. He flew away in the morning, going back to Dallas. The town that he was born in, had always lived in, and died in. Seeing him mount his motor cycle, back it slowly out of the parking space, and he started to take off. I was in my bedroom window, I called down to my father as loud as I could, "Byeee Daddyyyyy!" I remember him looking up to me and waving. Bye daddy, see you soon. The loud roar of the motor cycle could not mask the yelling in my head, that I would not see him for a very long time. The pain in my heart, it broke, I knew, somehow, only being 10 years old, I knew he was gone. I fell on the floor in pain and sobbed my eyes out, and my heart was hurting. What was that feeling I was having? This pain? Oh, a broken heart.
The next time he came to see me, (he never gave a warning) I was in a girl's club, an after school program for girls. Daddy was driving a Cadillac De ville. He told me that he had just flew in from St. Luis or somewhere......he owned his own oil business and I really don't know the details of what he did. Well, he picked up a doll from the airport, one that he said, "reminded him of me." All the little girls were outside staring at me, wondering who this person was that was giving me a doll. My dad said, "I know this is not much but I think you will love her." By this time I was 11 years old and wanted to hide the doll, my friends and I were into jacks, and jewelry, and passing notes and starting to talk about boys, so this was a little embarrassing. Giving my daddy a hug, I just could not wait to get back inside and put the pretty, cotton stuffed doll into my cubby so I would not be stared at any longer. He again, left quickly saying that he had to go visit my brothers as well. I could feel my heart breaking once again........ohh the tears, I could not hold them back. The teacher asked me, "What was wrong, who was that man?"
I replied, "My dad." As the tears continued to fall, she pulled me in the office to be out of view. Thank you for caring, whoever you are. ( I still have that doll today, she is sitting on a shelf in my hallway.)
I was in contact with my father on and off until he died in 1996.
The last conversation he had, I just found out I was pregnant with twins. I remember him being over joyed. I later found out from my aunt that he went on and on about me having twins over their lunch that day. He also told me that he was leaving to go out of states and we would talk when he got back. While he was gone, I wrote him a letter. I wanted to tell him in the letter of the pain that I had as a child because he was not around, but I forgave him for it all.
I kept putting off the task of mailing the letter, because I had an 18 month old and I was pregnant. Being so busy, I thought I had a lifetime to mail him the letter.
He never received the letter, passing away before I could get it to him. The first thought that came through my mind when I received the news that he had passed was, "But! I have a letter for him!" I hope to God that Daddy knows I love and forgive him.
So still today, I search for mentors, I search for a father figure, I search for what I missed as a child. This is the only place that I feel as if healing is coming.
Balance,
Love,
Healing. I know I will have them someday.
Always,
Sarah
I need them to be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend. I know my weaknesses, they haunt me, torture me everyday...in my thoughts, because of my own doings. I have been looking for mentors here in Opera. Wondering if I will ever find one, I come across many. And many are not whole.
Thinking that no one person is going to be the whole that I am seeking, I gather up many of them in my mind, and there my mentor is,complete and perfect. My mentor is extremely intelligent, patient, loving, takes me by my hand, kisses my forehead, tells me that everything is going to be okay. My mentor tells me how it is, (the truth) pushes me when I need it, feeds me words of knowledge, and tells me to spread my wings and fly with what I know, for now.
Why should I shed tears wanting someone to look up to, one special person that I can attach to and hold on to? When, I know, in my heart of hearts that that person will never be. I can not even tell you how many times that I cried, being hurt by someone that I thought loved me and wanted to take me under the sheltering wings, only to find out I was fooled by their beauty and nice talking. But I believe that I have also fooled myself by believing I could learn from only one person and they would be happy to teach me.
I am talking about hurt feelings here. And I know why I am broken and easily cracked........
My father and mother raised me until I was 8, together. When my father moved away from us, I was not completely sure that he was really going to be gone for good. I don't want to go on about how I felt, it does no good to even look back. But, there are 2 incidents that I can remember that ABSOLUTELY broke my heart and I still feel the pain today when I think back on them.
The first on, my father breezed into town on a motor cycle. In his leather jacket and his snake skin boots, he was everything to me. The love that I felt for my father was beyond reason. My daddy, mi papa, mi amore, my father. My mother was living in a 3 bedroom apartment working full time trying to raise us. He spent the night. He flew away in the morning, going back to Dallas. The town that he was born in, had always lived in, and died in. Seeing him mount his motor cycle, back it slowly out of the parking space, and he started to take off. I was in my bedroom window, I called down to my father as loud as I could, "Byeee Daddyyyyy!" I remember him looking up to me and waving. Bye daddy, see you soon. The loud roar of the motor cycle could not mask the yelling in my head, that I would not see him for a very long time. The pain in my heart, it broke, I knew, somehow, only being 10 years old, I knew he was gone. I fell on the floor in pain and sobbed my eyes out, and my heart was hurting. What was that feeling I was having? This pain? Oh, a broken heart.
The next time he came to see me, (he never gave a warning) I was in a girl's club, an after school program for girls. Daddy was driving a Cadillac De ville. He told me that he had just flew in from St. Luis or somewhere......he owned his own oil business and I really don't know the details of what he did. Well, he picked up a doll from the airport, one that he said, "reminded him of me." All the little girls were outside staring at me, wondering who this person was that was giving me a doll. My dad said, "I know this is not much but I think you will love her." By this time I was 11 years old and wanted to hide the doll, my friends and I were into jacks, and jewelry, and passing notes and starting to talk about boys, so this was a little embarrassing. Giving my daddy a hug, I just could not wait to get back inside and put the pretty, cotton stuffed doll into my cubby so I would not be stared at any longer. He again, left quickly saying that he had to go visit my brothers as well. I could feel my heart breaking once again........ohh the tears, I could not hold them back. The teacher asked me, "What was wrong, who was that man?"
I replied, "My dad." As the tears continued to fall, she pulled me in the office to be out of view. Thank you for caring, whoever you are. ( I still have that doll today, she is sitting on a shelf in my hallway.)
I was in contact with my father on and off until he died in 1996.
The last conversation he had, I just found out I was pregnant with twins. I remember him being over joyed. I later found out from my aunt that he went on and on about me having twins over their lunch that day. He also told me that he was leaving to go out of states and we would talk when he got back. While he was gone, I wrote him a letter. I wanted to tell him in the letter of the pain that I had as a child because he was not around, but I forgave him for it all.
I kept putting off the task of mailing the letter, because I had an 18 month old and I was pregnant. Being so busy, I thought I had a lifetime to mail him the letter.
He never received the letter, passing away before I could get it to him. The first thought that came through my mind when I received the news that he had passed was, "But! I have a letter for him!" I hope to God that Daddy knows I love and forgive him.
So still today, I search for mentors, I search for a father figure, I search for what I missed as a child. This is the only place that I feel as if healing is coming.
Balance,
Love,
Healing. I know I will have them someday.
Always,
Sarah
