I have been asked more than once recently – in so many words – to stop. But I did not start a fight. I just cannot lie down, roll over, step aside, be silent, or turn my back on people.
So I have also been asked, “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?”
To disarm that myth, I say this.
I would be happy if people were being treated right.
There is no happiness in this world otherwise.
It has never been a measurement of me being right as a factor in the false equation against my happiness.
I do not have that luxury.
But here is the thing. I would not ever been aware to START. But, I am one who has been stomped down, spit out, and discarded like a piece of trash.l
Let me correct that, less than trash. Because those same people would prefer to recycle trash.
Believe me, I would love to be happy over right. But here is the fatal mistake of the messengers of late.
My husband and I were married on 8-08-2008. My father-in-law, Stanley Sobocienski was hospitalized that summer before our wedding. I went to visit him at the Nome Hospital by myself. I wanted him to have ample time to recover fully back to health, although I was not fully aware of what hos health issues entailed.
I told him that I was going to postpone the wedding because his health and his presence at our wedding was the most important to me. I am a family woman and postponing a wedding is easy. It is not a hardship.
He and I hugged and stayed in that embrace that day in his hospital bed. He told me the wedding will go on and he will be healthy enough to be there.
My father-in-law, my husband, and I all left while our wedding reception was in full-swing. The three of us got on the plane to Amherst, OH – where my father-in-law was born and raised.
I got to spend my honeymoon with my new family and Stan brought me around to his childhood friends and showed me off. I could never ever have anticipated or expected the best honeymoon anyone could ever asked for.
I got to spend time with and to get to know Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Ed. I also got to see another side of my husband that I knew existed, but to witness him living openly as the person I know was the most beautiful reaffirmation.
And then later, back in Nome. Stan’s health went bad again. Colo called his big sister, Becka to come help. That day Stan was admitted to the Nome hospital. Becka gave me a ride to my parents house.
She stood in my parents driveway and told me to turn on my heels, walk away, focus on my girls – because she was going to put her brother (my husband) in the ground.
She did not hold back in her effort to harm him, me, and now our daughter, Valerie. Much less my parents.
But here is the thing. People who act out like this do not ever stop.
So it is not a question that should be directed at me of whether I want to be right or happy.
Those choices were stripped away from me many, many years ago.