Let?s start at the beginning, ?God said let there be light??.
Just kidding.
My mother married her high-school sweetheart; she was the valedictorian of her class. Her sweetheart was the class president. She always had big dreams for herself (she still does), and always worked very hard towards them. She owned her own business by the age of 20 and her own home at 21. At 27 she gave birth to my older sister, my second mommy, a generous, kind and brilliant woman.
My mother?s first husband was not the greatest; he was running around with other women. When my mother found out she also had to learn that everyone knew, including her family, but never told her. They thought she knew. She divorced him; he sued for alimony, and tried to take her business and her home away from her. If you knew my mom you would know that she did not allow that to happen.
At the age of 31 she met my father, he was younger, handsome, well spoken, and brilliant. They fell in love and married a year later. I was conceived immediately. I was my daddy?s little girl, his pride and joy. They knew I was going to be a handful right away so they decided to give me a sibling.
My little sister is only 18 months younger than me. She is my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime and most importantly my biggest fan. It seemed I could do no wrong in her eyes. We always shared everything. We shared a bedroom most of our childhood. We shared clothes, toys, food, and also our dreams and hopes for each other and ourselves.
My family was very close, we had to be, we moved a lot. We moved to Europe and those were the best years of my life. I had the greatest childhood I could imagine. We met some wonderful people in our journey around the world. We did everything together. The adventures were seemingly endless. I was such a happy kid, and I felt very loved.
We moved back to the States and I started at yet another school right at thirteen. This is a very tough age for even the happiest kid. I looked awkward, as most of us did at that age. I had glasses, braces and short hair. It was a private Catholic middle school, and I did NOT fit in. That is the first time I ever drank for the wrong reasons. Escape. It is also the first time in my life that I remember being depressed.
I had always had friends before, why didn?t they like me? Also, Holly and I were in different phases in our lives. I had started my period, and I had started getting into boys and other general mischief. She was still mommy?s little girl and didn?t understand why I didn?t want to listen to my parents. Our disconnect would be very temporary though.
Finally, I graduated from 8th grade, and not a day too soon. High school went much more smoothly. Everyone?s had their rough spots as a teenager, I?m glad I got mine done early. That?s not to say that I didn?t feel insecure at times ever again, but I had a good support system in my friends. These are friends I?m still in contact with today.
Of course I drank in high school, but now it was strictly for mischief and fun. I had some great drinking, smoking and pill popping buddies. Those were overall very fun times. I knew I had it good, I had come to realize that I?m a little lazy or spoiled, if you will. I was afraid to grow-up, I enjoyed both my freedom and my lack of responsibility. My grades were poor, and it wasn?t until later that I realized why my parents weren?t really giving me a hard time about it.
This is when my parents, thinking they had raised us and we were old enough to handle it, decided to get a divorce. It was also when my father confessed to my sister and I that he had an affair years earlier that produced a child. The child was born with problems and died at nine months old. I chose to leave it to them. I wanted nothing to do with their sorrow and pain. I wanted nothing to do with my own. Escape.
Well I did graduate, barely, and somehow I got into a very good private women?s college, partly due to the fact that my parents could foot the bill. They let me in on probation. I should have deferred my enrollment, I just didn?t know better, yet. I failed out after the first year and they ?uninvited me back?.
By then I was heavy into partying and experimentation of all kinds. But it was also then that I developed my true love affair with music and with being social. They were called ?raves? at the time, but I thought of them as kind of like going to church. Now I didn?t do the really stupid stuff, I never got so high I couldn?t control myself; I never overdosed or got into any real trouble. Someone stole money out of my car once that was about it. I look back on those times and realize how much I learned about people, who to trust, who to stay away from.
I got a job and tried to live on my own, sort of. I spent a lot of time with a man, the first boyfriend I had as an ?adult? and could spend as much time with as I wanted. Looking back I could have picked better. The reason I bring that up is that it was the beginning of a pattern that I?m hoping to end.
Luckily that relationship ended. I moved into a cute little apartment in the city with my father, and I decided to go back to college. Right before school started, a friend of mine invited me to a rave. I had already, for the most part, grown out of that, but she was younger and I felt I could at least make sure she didn?t get into any trouble. I?m glad I went because there I met one of the first true loves of my life and also some of the best and most interesting friends I?ve had so far. I reveled in college and in my little click that I was adopted into. They were in college too, a much, much better college; but we could still relate.
My father and I shared an experience I wouldn?t wish on my worst enemy. We killed his dog, accidentally. This dog was very special; he was my father?s best friend. He was a fabulous person, smart, and kind, beautiful, thoughtful and he meant the world to both of us. Escape. That?s what my father and I did.
My home life with my boyfriend began to fail; it wasn?t anyone?s fault. He was very depressed and I was trying to be very happy. I wanted adventure and he wanted to sleep. Right before graduation I kicked him out of my life and tried to start a new one for myself.
This is the second time I ever became depressed. I finished college and moved across the country to live with my mother to figure out my next move. It was a relatively small town, and I didn?t feel I had the resources to find people that I intellectually related to like the ones I had in college. Escape. I started drinking heavily, I would buy it when I could and sneak it from my mother?s liquor cabinet when I couldn?t. I would drink the undesirable things, the Kirsch, the Vermouth, the Rum that my mother only bought in case a guest had a preference.
My sister had moved with me and did everything she could to keep me entertained. I felt old and useless. I felt I had wasted the best years of my life doing nothing good. I felt that I had contributed nothing to the world. I was having a pity party and felt overall sorry for myself.
My sister took to helping me like a career military man takes to war. She found an internship for me at a recording studio a couple of hours away in a cool little college town well known for its music. Here?s that pattern again, I fell in love with the owner. I should say we fell in love. I think, however, that I fell in love with the idea of the life we could share together doing what we both love, making music.
I knew very quickly that the relationship wouldn?t work. You all know the old adage ?you don?t just marry a man you marry his family?. Well I met his family, they were nothing like mine. Not to criticize, they?re lovely people, I just don?t want to marry them.
I had worked at his studio for no pay for over a year. The business wasn?t thriving and he felt that as long as he was keeping a roof over my head and paying the bills that I should just be quiet and work my a$$ off right along with him. Escape. The whole time there I drank, excessively.
I left him. We spoke on the phone and he told me that he was going to leave the studio and move to FL to get a job working for an old friend who needed help. I went back up there, I truly believed that I was going back up to get the last of my things and negotiate a contract to get paid what I felt I was owed.
But like most women, I didn?t want to hurt him and I didn?t want to fight. Somehow I got myself back into the relationship. Escape. We both left for FL together. I thought working at the studio for no pay was bad. I tried to avoid a pile of sh*t only to land in another one. So here I go: Escape. This is when I found MWO.
I had already decided to leave again; he and I are not in the same room. We don?t talk. He is angry, understandably so. As I put in another post, I am going back to nursing school. My mother made me an offer I just couldn?t refuse. At first I thought that I might just be running away again and it scared me. But I realize that it doesn?t have to mean that. It?s because of MWO that I stopped escaping. I?m looking at all of this now and letting it in, sitting with it, acknowledging it, and accepting it.
The only thing my mom has ever wanted for all of her girls was independence. Having been married twice, cheated on twice, and divorced twice, she truly feels every woman needs to be able to take care of herself. Man or no man, you always have to live with yourself. So you?d better love her and be able to take care of her.
I know this was long, and I know that I have had a pretty easy time of life compared to most of the world, and most of you here. But as Jewel says:
?My hands are small, I know. But they?re not yours they are my own?and I am never broken?
---T
Just kidding.
My mother married her high-school sweetheart; she was the valedictorian of her class. Her sweetheart was the class president. She always had big dreams for herself (she still does), and always worked very hard towards them. She owned her own business by the age of 20 and her own home at 21. At 27 she gave birth to my older sister, my second mommy, a generous, kind and brilliant woman.
My mother?s first husband was not the greatest; he was running around with other women. When my mother found out she also had to learn that everyone knew, including her family, but never told her. They thought she knew. She divorced him; he sued for alimony, and tried to take her business and her home away from her. If you knew my mom you would know that she did not allow that to happen.
At the age of 31 she met my father, he was younger, handsome, well spoken, and brilliant. They fell in love and married a year later. I was conceived immediately. I was my daddy?s little girl, his pride and joy. They knew I was going to be a handful right away so they decided to give me a sibling.
My little sister is only 18 months younger than me. She is my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime and most importantly my biggest fan. It seemed I could do no wrong in her eyes. We always shared everything. We shared a bedroom most of our childhood. We shared clothes, toys, food, and also our dreams and hopes for each other and ourselves.
My family was very close, we had to be, we moved a lot. We moved to Europe and those were the best years of my life. I had the greatest childhood I could imagine. We met some wonderful people in our journey around the world. We did everything together. The adventures were seemingly endless. I was such a happy kid, and I felt very loved.
We moved back to the States and I started at yet another school right at thirteen. This is a very tough age for even the happiest kid. I looked awkward, as most of us did at that age. I had glasses, braces and short hair. It was a private Catholic middle school, and I did NOT fit in. That is the first time I ever drank for the wrong reasons. Escape. It is also the first time in my life that I remember being depressed.
I had always had friends before, why didn?t they like me? Also, Holly and I were in different phases in our lives. I had started my period, and I had started getting into boys and other general mischief. She was still mommy?s little girl and didn?t understand why I didn?t want to listen to my parents. Our disconnect would be very temporary though.
Finally, I graduated from 8th grade, and not a day too soon. High school went much more smoothly. Everyone?s had their rough spots as a teenager, I?m glad I got mine done early. That?s not to say that I didn?t feel insecure at times ever again, but I had a good support system in my friends. These are friends I?m still in contact with today.
Of course I drank in high school, but now it was strictly for mischief and fun. I had some great drinking, smoking and pill popping buddies. Those were overall very fun times. I knew I had it good, I had come to realize that I?m a little lazy or spoiled, if you will. I was afraid to grow-up, I enjoyed both my freedom and my lack of responsibility. My grades were poor, and it wasn?t until later that I realized why my parents weren?t really giving me a hard time about it.
This is when my parents, thinking they had raised us and we were old enough to handle it, decided to get a divorce. It was also when my father confessed to my sister and I that he had an affair years earlier that produced a child. The child was born with problems and died at nine months old. I chose to leave it to them. I wanted nothing to do with their sorrow and pain. I wanted nothing to do with my own. Escape.
Well I did graduate, barely, and somehow I got into a very good private women?s college, partly due to the fact that my parents could foot the bill. They let me in on probation. I should have deferred my enrollment, I just didn?t know better, yet. I failed out after the first year and they ?uninvited me back?.
By then I was heavy into partying and experimentation of all kinds. But it was also then that I developed my true love affair with music and with being social. They were called ?raves? at the time, but I thought of them as kind of like going to church. Now I didn?t do the really stupid stuff, I never got so high I couldn?t control myself; I never overdosed or got into any real trouble. Someone stole money out of my car once that was about it. I look back on those times and realize how much I learned about people, who to trust, who to stay away from.
I got a job and tried to live on my own, sort of. I spent a lot of time with a man, the first boyfriend I had as an ?adult? and could spend as much time with as I wanted. Looking back I could have picked better. The reason I bring that up is that it was the beginning of a pattern that I?m hoping to end.
Luckily that relationship ended. I moved into a cute little apartment in the city with my father, and I decided to go back to college. Right before school started, a friend of mine invited me to a rave. I had already, for the most part, grown out of that, but she was younger and I felt I could at least make sure she didn?t get into any trouble. I?m glad I went because there I met one of the first true loves of my life and also some of the best and most interesting friends I?ve had so far. I reveled in college and in my little click that I was adopted into. They were in college too, a much, much better college; but we could still relate.
My father and I shared an experience I wouldn?t wish on my worst enemy. We killed his dog, accidentally. This dog was very special; he was my father?s best friend. He was a fabulous person, smart, and kind, beautiful, thoughtful and he meant the world to both of us. Escape. That?s what my father and I did.
My home life with my boyfriend began to fail; it wasn?t anyone?s fault. He was very depressed and I was trying to be very happy. I wanted adventure and he wanted to sleep. Right before graduation I kicked him out of my life and tried to start a new one for myself.
This is the second time I ever became depressed. I finished college and moved across the country to live with my mother to figure out my next move. It was a relatively small town, and I didn?t feel I had the resources to find people that I intellectually related to like the ones I had in college. Escape. I started drinking heavily, I would buy it when I could and sneak it from my mother?s liquor cabinet when I couldn?t. I would drink the undesirable things, the Kirsch, the Vermouth, the Rum that my mother only bought in case a guest had a preference.
My sister had moved with me and did everything she could to keep me entertained. I felt old and useless. I felt I had wasted the best years of my life doing nothing good. I felt that I had contributed nothing to the world. I was having a pity party and felt overall sorry for myself.
My sister took to helping me like a career military man takes to war. She found an internship for me at a recording studio a couple of hours away in a cool little college town well known for its music. Here?s that pattern again, I fell in love with the owner. I should say we fell in love. I think, however, that I fell in love with the idea of the life we could share together doing what we both love, making music.
I knew very quickly that the relationship wouldn?t work. You all know the old adage ?you don?t just marry a man you marry his family?. Well I met his family, they were nothing like mine. Not to criticize, they?re lovely people, I just don?t want to marry them.
I had worked at his studio for no pay for over a year. The business wasn?t thriving and he felt that as long as he was keeping a roof over my head and paying the bills that I should just be quiet and work my a$$ off right along with him. Escape. The whole time there I drank, excessively.
I left him. We spoke on the phone and he told me that he was going to leave the studio and move to FL to get a job working for an old friend who needed help. I went back up there, I truly believed that I was going back up to get the last of my things and negotiate a contract to get paid what I felt I was owed.
But like most women, I didn?t want to hurt him and I didn?t want to fight. Somehow I got myself back into the relationship. Escape. We both left for FL together. I thought working at the studio for no pay was bad. I tried to avoid a pile of sh*t only to land in another one. So here I go: Escape. This is when I found MWO.
I had already decided to leave again; he and I are not in the same room. We don?t talk. He is angry, understandably so. As I put in another post, I am going back to nursing school. My mother made me an offer I just couldn?t refuse. At first I thought that I might just be running away again and it scared me. But I realize that it doesn?t have to mean that. It?s because of MWO that I stopped escaping. I?m looking at all of this now and letting it in, sitting with it, acknowledging it, and accepting it.
The only thing my mom has ever wanted for all of her girls was independence. Having been married twice, cheated on twice, and divorced twice, she truly feels every woman needs to be able to take care of herself. Man or no man, you always have to live with yourself. So you?d better love her and be able to take care of her.
I know this was long, and I know that I have had a pretty easy time of life compared to most of the world, and most of you here. But as Jewel says:
?My hands are small, I know. But they?re not yours they are my own?and I am never broken?
---T
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