The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...4:44am. Part 1.

Two days ago I did something that I'm not really comfortable with or exceptionally good at; I actually spoke up for myself.  It's part of my year-long plan to become a better me.  Speaking up for oneself is suppose to promote confidence and boost self-esteem.  At least that's what the Anthony Roberts Assertiveness Seminar tapes that I've been listening to have said.  This incident, however, arose from a "mama had had enough" moment and I snapped, passionately voicing my frustration over a situation that has been out of my control for several years now.  My venting came from the pain of feeling unimportant and invisible.  It was perceived as "venom" and unnecessary.  Ouch.

Flash forward now to 4:44am Saturday morning. That's the time when my eyes popped wide-open because my brain had just figured out (I'm a little slow) that I had been called a snake(remember the venom reference from the day before)...without actually being called a snake.  And this from someone on my side.

 And there you have the summation of the past few years of my life; expecting a little "tea and sympathy" and some understanding when I get overwhelmed, but receiving only the proverbial letter "W" on my forehead for being a whistle blower.  Wow...no, more like Shazaam! I finally put a name to my role in all the mayhem that has been my life for the past 3 years. Seriously, just right now, after seeing the word "whistle blower" on the screen, I realized why I've become so "unclean" to the church and to those in it that I thought were my friends.  I should stop writing right now and call my therapist to let her know that I have had a serious breakthrough.  Wow.  It was only two days ago that I had had a total emotional meltdown and now today, like the demon-possessed man that Jesus exorcized, I sit  "dressed, and in my right mind."  Well, maybe more of a clear mind with perspective.

Let's go to the visuals:  the accepted definition of "whistle blower" is an informant who exposes wrongdoing within an organization in the hope of stopping it.  Yeah, I like this definition; it makes the informant seem more like a hero instead of the Wiki-leaks guy who had to go into hiding in fear of retaliation for compromising the lives of  American security agents and US soldiers in "sensitive" jobs.  Whether that guy had mankind's interest in mind, I don't know.  I know that I did.

 I view myself more like Roy Scheider's  police chief character in "Jaws"; notifying the proper authorities (as his rightful duty as police chief) that there was a dangerous predator in the water and that the beach needed to be closed until the man-eater could be caught and killed.  Prudence and proactiveness needed to be followed in order to protect the lives of the townspeople and unsuspecting vacationers.  But the higher-ups disregarded his plan of action, and we all know what followed; the shark was left to stalk the waters near the beaches, plucking swimmers from the surface like they were fries in a happy meal.

Now,I didn't go running in, making a big scene...believe it or not.  But I did notify the proper authorities of a dangerous predator and basically got "disregarded."  How fun it is, to be told "thanks, but no thanks."  Crazy people, christians are.  And sometimes complete asses and schmucks all wrapped up in suits and carrying their bibles, thinking that if they ignore the facts, the facts somehow don't exist.  Stupid people.

I just do not want to ever be confronted by a grieving parent, like in the police chief's scene in the movie where the mother of the boy that was attacked and killed confronts him because he knew of the danger and did nothing to stop it.  And then she slaps him.  I don't want to be slapped.  I want to be part of a team that works together for the betterment of mankind.  I want world peace.  But for now, I'll settle for the peace of mind and soul I have when I lay my head down at night.  I did all that I could barring jumping into the ocean with a suit made of chum to get the shark myself.

I'd rather be on the beach, getting all sweaty and reading a Dean Koontz book...leaving the life-guarding to the guys in the red shorts.