Breaking the Cycle

Once upon a time, a terrible awful, awfully terrible thing happened to a little boy. All he wanted was to play football, but a bad man whom everyone called "Coach," -- who didn't really appear to be a bad man at all -- did something to make the little boy feel ashamed, and wish he could just be invisible. It was really sad because he liked Coach, and he wanted to be like the rest of the boys who thought Coach was great. But deep down inside, the little boy knew that Coach was not great; Coach was a bad man. When Coach had sleepovers and pool parties at his house, the little boy's parents would urge him to go. "Isn't that so nice of Coach to have all of you boys over like that," his mother would gush. The little boy's friends would be so excited. "Man, I just can't wait 'til Coach's party this weekend; it's gonna be so cool!" At the party, Coach's pretty wife would serve the boys drink and snacks. "Are you sure I can't get you something to eat, Dear?" But the little boy never felt much like eating. In fact, he just felt alone.

Finally, the little boy let the secret out. Whether he couldn't take keeping in such a terrible secret anymore, or he just got tired of everyone thinking Coach was so wonderful and there was something wrong with him, the little boy wasn't sure, but he had to tell. His parents. They were horrified! "How could you say something so terrible?!" his mother shrieked. "Where did you learn about awful stuff like that?!" his father bellowed. The little boy felt more alone than ever.

As the little boy grew, he didn't forget. He knew his parents didn't forget. He wondered if Coach could ever forget. But no one ever, never ever said another word about it. Even though he wasn't such a little boy anymore, he knew he'd never forget. And he still felt alone.

The little boy wanted so badly to have a normal life, just like he'd wanted to play football. He didn't want pain, or these wild feelings of anger he sometimes had. He just wanted to be like everyone else. But they didn't have secrets. So, he buried his. Under the weight of a crazy work schedule and a 4.0 GPA. In the sheets of her bed -- what was her name again? Behind varsity letters and trophies for the sports he played year round. With the stuff he was always taking from his job at that old parts store. At the bottom of a bottle or in a bottle of pills. Anything to numb the pain and fill the void. Until one night, when he couldn't imagine ever feeling more alone...

The little boy quietly closed the door of his apartment, leaving his beautiful, sleeping wife inside -- this woman who'd chosen to love him, to care for him and promise him he'd never be alone. He walked to the church down the street, and sat on the solitary wooden bench outside the big red doors. He thought about his brand new baby boy, and how he could ever protect such a vulnerable little creature. He thought about his wife, and her radiant smile, and how when he looked at it he could almost forget that he was supposed to feel alone. He thought about all the things -- some good, some sort of awful and terrible -- he had done to bury his secret, to feel like he thought everyone else felt. And still he felt alone. But for the life of him, he had no idea how else to live, or what else to do. What was there that could possibly change the way he felt? or what he had done? or what someone else had done? He looked up at the big red doors of the church; the early morning light was just starting to illuminate the roof above.

The little boy poured himself a drink before he sat down. He tossed it back with a couple of pills, hoping he'd relax enough to catch a couple hours of sleep before work. His wife had heard him come in, and she quietly peeked around the corner. The little girl couldn't imagine ever feeling more alone.

"Many people live under the reign of Satan because they don’t really know there is a legitimate king ready to take reign in their life." ~ David Guzik