Bouncing Back After Dropping the Ball: 18 Life Lessons on the Journey to Forgiveness

Bouncing Back After

Dropping the Ball

Carla L. Garrett

Copyright Carla L. Garrett 2014

Copyright © 2014 by Carla L. Garrett

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photographic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at books@knowledgepowerbooks.com.

Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Published by Knowledge Power Books

A Division of Knowledge Power Communications, Inc.

25379 Wayne Mills Place, Suite 131

Valencia, CA 91355

www.knowledgepowerbooks.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013946630

Edited by: Michelle Otis

Cover and jacket design: Juan Roberts / Creative Lunacy

Photography © 2013 Juan Roberts

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Introduction

The Fantasy

Lesson One - Don't Operate Under the Influence

The Black Notebook

Lesson Two - Open Those Notebooks

The Evidence

Lesson Three - Develop a Plan

More Cannonballs

Lesson Four - Valleys and Mountaintops

The Confrontation

Lesson Five - Don't Replay, Just Play

The Deliberation

Lesson Six - It's Nothing Personal

The Answer

Lesson Seven - Practice, Practice, Practice

The News

Lesson Eight - Flawed People…Flawed Thinking…Flawed Decisions

Where's That Bus?

Lesson Nine - Breathe

Salting the Wounds

Lesson Ten - Reopening the Wound

Big Girl Panties

Lesson Eleven - Calling for Reinforcements

The Help

Lesson Twelve - Put in Work

The Research

Lesson Thirteen - Compassion - The Gift That Keeps on Giving

The Challenge

Lesson Fourteen - Adversity is an Awesome Teacher

The Prayer

Lesson Fifteen - The Privilege of Prayer

Her Rise

Lesson Sixteen - Once Upon a Time…Again

His Fall

Lesson Seventeen - Rejoice in Your Blessings, Not in His Suffering

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Six Months Later

Lesson Eighteen - Do Life…Don't Let Life Do You

Now, Let Me Share The Final Lesson With You - Do Life…Don't Let Life Do You

About the Author

Acknowledgements

I am a very blessed woman. I’m surrounded by remarkable people who not only love and support me, but who inspire me to be better...to do better. Each one adds something unique and wonderful to my life. My children, Taylor, Brett, and Jason, not only give me purpose, they bring me unspeakable joy. Taylor, with her phenomenal mind and spirit, routinely exhibits high-road maturity that far exceeds her years, while Brett, my personal stand-up comedian, takes life less seriously. He has an exceptional ability to find humor in just about anything and uses his quick wit to incite raucous belly laughter in those around him. And Jason, the philosopher of the bunch, often demonstrates a level of insightfulness typically reserved for our world’s greatest thinkers. He, like his sister and brother, is destined for greatness, and I can firmly attest that this world is a better place simply because they exist in it. Needless to say, I’m exceedingly proud of them.

But my blessings don’t stop with my children. My parents, Elmer and Barbara Garrett, continue to be active and highly respected elders in my village. They are a constant source of wise counsel and serve as that beacon of light that guides me back to safe ground. My sisters, Janis and Danette, my sister-friend Karen, and my cousin Stephanie, function as a gang of four...well, five, including me... ready to come to each other’s rescue and wreak havoc in the lives of those who dare to come against us. My handsome nephews, Michael and Bryson, and my gorgeous nieces, Mia, Maya, Lauren, and Riley, serve as constant reminders of the hope for tomorrow, given the magnificent spirits growing in them today. And then there is the rest of my village—my aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, and friends—fiercely protective, extremely loyal, highly supportive...the list goes on and on. I feel empowered simply by knowing them.

I wish to acknowledge Michael Anthony who has been an absolute blessing to me. I thank him for his prayers, his wisdom, his friendship, his advice, and for his uncanny ability to make me feel like royalty even in the midst of the most humble circumstances. I’m happy to have him in my life.

Finally, I would like to thank God, the One from whom all blessings flow. I feel honored knowing Him, and I’m eternally grateful for all He has done, for all He will do, but mostly for who He is. I’m a better woman because of Him.

For this and everything else, again I say thanks, to all of you.

Foreword

Put on your emotional seat belt and take a ride with author Carla

L. Garrett. This keeping-it-real message takes the reader inside a journey of betrayal to blessings...from being pissed off to prayer...from avoidance and anger to acceptance...from suffering to serenity...and from obsessing and seeking revenge to becoming a beacon of light to help others lost in a deep pit of darkness.

Carla’s words are a transparent guidepost for anyone who feels lost, as she, like many of us, knows what it is like to experience betrayal’s swift kick in the gut. Let her powerful message serve as your personal invitation to begin the process of healing in your life—healing from the struggle, sadness, shame, secrets, silent screams and suffering. If you feel stuck, insecure, and have allowed the strongholds of denial to shut your eyes...this is a must read message.

In this novel, you feel the pain of betrayal with each word on the page. Yet the book is redemptive because Carla offers real lessons to help someone get to the point of true forgiveness—something that ultimately facilitates the healing process. What a gift to be empowered by someone who knows that forgiveness doesn’t exonerate who hurt you or trivialize your trauma. It is the gift you give yourself. As you will see in this book, forgiveness doesn’t make you weak. Only the strong survive and only the strong can forgive and live a better life instead of feeling bitter. Forgiveness is a rebirth of hope, a renewing of your mind and saying to yourself out loud, It’s not over. I will bounce back. I will not break. I am more than a conqueror. I take my power and joy back. I will not live like a victim, but as a victorious person.

Join the collective voices of readers who are thankful Carla had the courage, writing talent and faith in God to share this crucial message of forgiveness. Clothe yourself in strength and rise from the ashes.

Jewel Diamond Taylor, The Self-Esteem Dr., Conference

Speaker, Author, Life Coach, www.DoNotGiveUp.net

Introduction

I have a confession to make. Initially, when I started writing this book, I was doing so for selfish reasons. I wanted to record the lessons I had learned during one of the most painful periods of my life, and I didn’t want the passage of time to fade the memories that had birthed them. Betrayal, for me, was an emotionally violent experience. Even though I had an amazing support system (i.e., an awesome family and loyal friends),many times I felt very alone. What I wanted was a superhero to swoop in, pick me up, and fast-forward me to the end of my nightmare. But fairytales aren’t real, so I had to set out to find my own way to the finish line. Although it was ridiculously bumpy, I made it, and actually learned some remarkable things about myself along the way. I also discovered a number of revelatory facts about my betrayer and about people like him.

On those occasions when I have had an opportunity to share these important lessons with others, particularly with those who have been sucker-punched by a loved one, many have found the messages helpful. Some even found them healing. But please don’t misunderstand. I’m no mental health professional, nor am I suggesting I’ve discovered the secret to instantaneous heartbreak relief. I have, however, come out on the other side of betrayal, and I did so without destroying myself or the one who had betrayed me. It was not easy and most of it, quite frankly, was downright unnatural. But I have benefited in immeasurable ways. I am now healthy. I am whole. I am happy. And I am living a more enriching life than the one I had before the betrayal.

Despite the events that inspired the chapters in this novel, this is considered a work of fiction. I have changed names, places, images, and details to protect the innocent, and any similarities to actual persons, either living or dead, are merely coincidental. But the lessons I share are the real deal. In that regard, and in order to maintain the authenticity of the story, a few chapters contain strong language and adult content, so please know this book is neither for children nor the faint of heart. You should also know that I reference God quite a bit. It’s not because I’m some kind of Bible-thumping, holy-rolling, hell-and-damnation, judgment-passing zealot—God’s worst representatives, in my opinion. Rather, I’m the kind who likes to encourage people to lean on God, especially during challenging times, because, let’s face it, we all need something bigger than ourselves to get through life’s injustices. I know I did. As you journey through this book, I hope you find it a source of inspiration to rise above any ugliness that has been dumped in your life, and I pray that the lessons in it are as helpful to you as they were, and continue to be, to me.

—Carla L. Garrett

To learn more about Carla and her inspirational novels,

visit www.CarlaLGarrett.com.

The Fantasy

She watches her wide-eyed husband racing across the boulevard dodging dozens of screeching cars. Sunlight glistens off his grimaced forehead. He screams her name again and again, but she can only hear bits, most of it drowned out by the bellowing engines and the staccato beeps of the urban afternoon. She stands on the soot-covered sidewalk while fearless pigeons peck at microscopic treasures near her feet. She watches the former jock leap from one lane into the next, and feels the thud of her heart as he gets closer. Even in the swelter of the hot July sun, his navy blue suit appears crisp and fresh, adapting to his long, jerky strides with ease. Her lips part when he locks his eyes onto hers, volumes spoken in the tears spilling from them.

He jets into the final lane, stretching his legs to capacity. She’s never seen him so determined. She can see it in the jut of his chin and in the furrow of his brow. But all of that changes when a patch of uneven asphalt catches his left foot, sending the man hurtling through the air. His eyes widen as he careens toward the grit of the inner-city street, his fortitude squashed by fear. His head strikes the pavement, producing a sickening thud, and splatters blood against the red-painted curb.

She gasps.

He lies motionless for a moment and then raises his bloody head. Crimson fluid spills down his face and into his eyes. He lifts his torso from the pavement, revealing grime-stained fabric, and then balances himself on his hands and knees. Suddenly, like a tenacious boxer on the ninth count, he scrambles to his feet, as if he remembered he had pressing business to handle. He takes a wobbly step in her direction and then attempts another, but his unsettled equilibrium forces him backward. Just then, a commuter bus, fully stocked, bellows warnings he doesn’t seem to hear and plows over the dazed man, the last wheel crushing his head like a sledge hammer to a watermelon. The crunch of his skull echoes off the old dilapidated buildings. Blood and brain matter coat the pavement.

Passersby hold shocked hands over silent mouths while others scream loud primal cries. She, however, utters nothing, moving nowhere, disbelief paralyzing her from the waist down. She simply stares and blinks, and stares some more, everything in her struggling for comprehension...until finally, it comes. She moves her eyes, bit by bit, over every inch of the broken corpse.

She smiles.

She relives the fantasy again and again as she slouches in her oversized living room chair. She stares blankly at the picture window while the summer sun peeks through the horizon of the warm clear morning, light glistening off the dew-covered honeysuckles. Yet, she sees none of it. Her mind’s lost in bramble-bushed darkness, pain shanking her from the inside out. The only salve, she knows, would be news of his death. But since she’s not the murdering type, all she has are her homicidal fantasies created, produced, and directed by the wiles of her imagination.

Tears make vertical tracks down her cheeks, converge at the tip of her chin, and drop in oblong patterns onto the top of her pink satin gown. Despite how much she tries, she can’t shake the memory of the day her world came tumbling down, the day she learned her husband of sixteen years had a secret life—secret condo, secret women, secret kids. She supposes she should have seen it coming, but denial, like a pack of rodents, had burrowed into the nooks and crannies of her mind, leaving her blind to the scarlet flags that waved before her. Over the last several years, distance and indifference played starring roles in their relationship: longer days and nights at the office, more out of town depositions, more time at sports bars—well, not sports bars as she later learned, but strip bars —more time with the fellas. There was always an excuse for him not to come home.

She shuts her eyes and gives her head a quick shake, a feeble attempt to extinguish the stupidity she feels for believing his lies. But, as usual, it does nothing. Except for her fantasy, nothing offers her any relief. She wants so badly to believe what her pastor says: Forgiveness is a commandment, not an option, and with it comes healing. But right now, that’s a pipe dream. Everything in her hates the man. If she could simply say, I forgive you, and like magic, the heaviness would be gone, no one would be more thrilled than she. But with anger and resentment, like squatters, taking up residence in her soul, forgiveness seems impossible. So all she can do right now is sit and pray, and pray some more, and hope that one day she’ll learn how to forgive him. The thought of it offers a sliver of light in her dark place. But until then, she’ll take solace in her fantasy, and relive it again and again and again and again.

She smiles.

Lesson One

Don't Operate Under the Influence

Don't Operate Under the Influence

Okay, let’s be real. Nobody feels like learning lessons when they’re in the midst of heartbreak. I certainly didn’t. I was busy trying to manage pain I had never experienced before. It snatched me from a place of normalcy, if there is such a thing, to a place saturated with sadness. It was dark, it was cold, it was merciless—and it was alive. It followed me everywhere, robbing me of my appetite, my sleep, my confidence, my concentration, my security, my essence—my life as I knew it. The only task I could do competently was cry, and I did a lot of it for hours, no matter where I was, or who was around me. I was stuck deep within the bowels of despair, and I prayed like hell for God to rescue me. And as I went through each day trying to survive one hour to the next, something amazing happened. I had my first fantasy. It left me tingling inside.

Now, I’m not suggesting that God created the fantasy. The God I know is a loving God, even to His most undeserving children, and I’d like to believe He wouldn’t create, even for make-believe purposes, such a sadistic fantasy. But, at the time, I allowed myself to believe that God was using the fantasy to show me what my betrayer’s fate would be—a prophecy of sorts. The problem was, I enjoyed the outcome of it a little too much for any self-respecting Christian. I knew, somewhere deep within the recesses of my mind, that reliving the fantasy again and again was wrong. But I convinced myself that it was beneficial, as it allowed me to bridge the gap between powerlessness and empowerment—at least until the daydream ended. When I finally decided to be honest with myself, however, I had no choice but to admit that my fantasy was poisoning me. It was drawing me into a place of darkness where I began spending more and more time creating alternative death scenes for my betrayer—each one more gruesome than the one before it. I would spend hours tweaking these endings, prolonging his suffering, relishing in his agony, yet it only afforded me temporary relief—very temporary. I was no different than addicts who found joy in brown, cylindrical bottles: liquor, prescription, hot fudge—and like them, I found myself needing more and more to feel better.

So I searched for something different. Something constructive. Something spiritual. I explored the notion of forgiveness and hoped the power of it could make the pain go away for more than a few minutes at a time. Everything I had previously read in the Bible on the subject, everything I had heard my pastor say, and everything mentioned by older, wiser people suggested that forgiveness was the key. The only problem was, I had no earthly idea how to truly forgive the man—not for the kind of pain he caused—and I recalled reading nothing in the Bible that told me specifically how to forgive either. Even my pastor offered no step-by-step instructions on how to forgive somebody, just a blanket commandment to do so. So, there I was, left with yet another frustration: a lack of access to the peace I needed so badly as a result of my ignorance of what to do beyond saying the words, I forgive you.

Finally, I had a revelation, which I’m ashamed to say, did not come to me earlier: that I could pray for God to enlighten me, to teach me the ABC’s of true forgiveness, and to give me the grace I needed during the process. And though I had prayed thousands and thousands of prayers over the course of my life, this was one of the few where I asked God to actually teach me something. I found the notion of it comforting and very intimate, a journey He and I were going to take together. I, for the first time since learning about the betrayal, felt hopeful—hopeful that one day I would beat this thing.

So I guess the lesson in this message is this: Break away from everything that offers the kind of comfort that ultimately alters, in a negative way, who you are or who you’re supposed to be—whether it’s your sobriety, your waistline, your personality, your essence, or your spirit. Try to look forward to how you want your future to look after coming through this trial in your life. For me, peace was what I ultimately desired—the kind that promoted sound sleep, natural smiles, and sweet contentment. And I knew deep down that forgiving my betrayer would be the only way I would be able to achieve it. I don’t know where you are on your journey, but I do know that you won’t reach your destination—the place where you realize your aspirations—until you learn how to forgive your betrayer, too. Trust me, you’ll find forgiveness to be the catalyst to the ascent in your life. Keep reading. I’ll show you how.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

—Philippians 4:13 (NKJV)

The Black