11 Years... Gone
I have had a long day today... I took my little sister Megan to Busch Gardens. I do not have a real sister, I participate in the Big Sister program... I always wanted a sister. I had a brother he was killed by a drunk driver when I was 9. He was 12. Strangely enough, today brought memories of JB (James Brian). Megan was asking me a lot of questions about which rides scare me and which ones were new. I told her as a young girl that Scorpion and Python were there, but few others. Then she asked about Montu and I remembered when it was new, I was 18.... This made me think of 'OH MY' where has the time gone. I am 27. I left home when I was 16.. I have been gone 11 years now, but leaving home at 16 is not typical. It reminded me of my dad carrying me through the park on his shoulders, a man who loved me... Yet still a man who was terribly abusive. We left my dad forever when I was 6. Prior to that we would leave in a cop car when things were out of control....off and on since the days of earliest recollection. I can remember being given a garbage bag by the police man and being told to pack it with toys I wanted to take. Most of my childhood was this way. Always leaving things I loved behind. When my brother died the day after I turned 9 my life changed.
My mom was never the same. My life turned upside down, not that it had been too terribly stable to begin with. Today being with Megan I was reminded of the difference I can make in her life. At times, I sware I feel like nothing more than a walking piggy bank to that little girl. Yet then I find myself reflecting on the people who made differences to me. The people who gave, who offered both time and necessities to me. The woman Liz who took me out shopping for a 'pretty dress' for the church Christmas show. Her kindness will never be forgotten. She bought me more than a dress, she surprised me with one of my best Christmas's ever. She bought me outfits, pretty underwear... shoes... perfume, toys. The kindness I am sure I did not understand until I was much older, but has become part of who I am. I can only pray Megan will one day remember me in such a way.
It is hard for me to look back and realize I was on my own at 16. It seems soo foreign, which since it is my own life, it is frankly rather disturbing to feel this way. I think I appreciate some things more than other people due to circumstances. I grew up in poverty, with an alcoholic/drug addicted mother. Somehow I was taught that education would give me opportunity. It would be my way out. I think of how education has shaped me. In many ways I hate school. I love learning though. I find stability in school. I fear graduating in May. Not because of the questions most college students have like what am I going to do with this degree. I fear the life I am committed to living. I will be a mom soon. I am not pregnant yet, but becoming a mom is something I promised my husband I would be. It scares me. I do not know what the mother/daughter bond is like? I see it, I envy it sometimes, but I do not feel it. In the days I was in foster care waiting to come home, I missed my mom. I grew up hating this woman who was my mother, hating her because I loved her too much and I could not accept that she loved alcohol and being high more than she did me. I know she did not choose to love it more, but rather it imprisioned her... I think a large part of me has grown cold and unfeeling towards her. Hating her is almost easier than loving her. I do not actually hate my mother. I just love her so much that I have needed to let go of her. Soo becoming a mother is a foreign idea to me. Will that bond exist between me and my child? Will I know how to stop being a student and let my life be shared with this little person who I could disappoint? Someday if they decide to drink will I be able to handle it? I do not think you can really understand the horror of alcohol without living with an alcoholic. Now that I have been away from my mom for years, I find myself wishing I could be normal and carefree about it, but yet there is a burden that will always be on my heart, an intense anxiety. To explain it would never make sense to anyone who has not had their heart ripped out over and over, lost everything they had... and the misery of it never really leaves... It has made me strong. Wise. It has made me creative. It has given my life a constant thirst for more than what is superficial and meaningless... Yet I often feel like I live in a world that I will always be an outsider to, I will never belong, because I can never forget.
My mom was never the same. My life turned upside down, not that it had been too terribly stable to begin with. Today being with Megan I was reminded of the difference I can make in her life. At times, I sware I feel like nothing more than a walking piggy bank to that little girl. Yet then I find myself reflecting on the people who made differences to me. The people who gave, who offered both time and necessities to me. The woman Liz who took me out shopping for a 'pretty dress' for the church Christmas show. Her kindness will never be forgotten. She bought me more than a dress, she surprised me with one of my best Christmas's ever. She bought me outfits, pretty underwear... shoes... perfume, toys. The kindness I am sure I did not understand until I was much older, but has become part of who I am. I can only pray Megan will one day remember me in such a way.
It is hard for me to look back and realize I was on my own at 16. It seems soo foreign, which since it is my own life, it is frankly rather disturbing to feel this way. I think I appreciate some things more than other people due to circumstances. I grew up in poverty, with an alcoholic/drug addicted mother. Somehow I was taught that education would give me opportunity. It would be my way out. I think of how education has shaped me. In many ways I hate school. I love learning though. I find stability in school. I fear graduating in May. Not because of the questions most college students have like what am I going to do with this degree. I fear the life I am committed to living. I will be a mom soon. I am not pregnant yet, but becoming a mom is something I promised my husband I would be. It scares me. I do not know what the mother/daughter bond is like? I see it, I envy it sometimes, but I do not feel it. In the days I was in foster care waiting to come home, I missed my mom. I grew up hating this woman who was my mother, hating her because I loved her too much and I could not accept that she loved alcohol and being high more than she did me. I know she did not choose to love it more, but rather it imprisioned her... I think a large part of me has grown cold and unfeeling towards her. Hating her is almost easier than loving her. I do not actually hate my mother. I just love her so much that I have needed to let go of her. Soo becoming a mother is a foreign idea to me. Will that bond exist between me and my child? Will I know how to stop being a student and let my life be shared with this little person who I could disappoint? Someday if they decide to drink will I be able to handle it? I do not think you can really understand the horror of alcohol without living with an alcoholic. Now that I have been away from my mom for years, I find myself wishing I could be normal and carefree about it, but yet there is a burden that will always be on my heart, an intense anxiety. To explain it would never make sense to anyone who has not had their heart ripped out over and over, lost everything they had... and the misery of it never really leaves... It has made me strong. Wise. It has made me creative. It has given my life a constant thirst for more than what is superficial and meaningless... Yet I often feel like I live in a world that I will always be an outsider to, I will never belong, because I can never forget.
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