Where do I begin?! I guess I begin with where I am now. It looks like I made it out. Looks like my life is great. I have an amazing husband, two kids, a beautiful house with a pool and we drive great cars. I have faith and attend church regularly. But why am I not happy? What am I missing? Why aren’t things perfect in my mind? Why can’t I get out of my head and get out of my own way? Well one answer is I don’t have a career. I’m in my 40s and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Well have I grown up? I use to think yes but as I’m learning about myself more and more. I am more screwed up then I thought. I am a survivor. Most of my life has been about just getting by getting through the bad and the ugly, or as I call it the awful and disturbing! Well it’s seems I’m safe and I’m secure so why am I still just surviving? Well that’s the question. Thats where I’m at in life. Stuck. Stuck between letting go of all the past and all the pain and all the hurt so that I can just move on and enjoy life to the fullest. The way God intended and the way my husband thrives for me to be. Because its hard that’s why. Because I keep making the same mistakes. I’m usung the same dumb logic I’ve always used and let my history dictate all my decision making. So how did I get here? Well that’s where it gets almost entertaining if you didn’t have to live it….
An Italian girl from upstate NY. I have one older brother. We lived with our nana and nano on and off a lot of the time. When we weren’t there my mother stayed home living off the system, even though she coulda been a hairdresser. My father was a painter, he painted houses when he wasn’t binging on drugs and alcohol. There was a lot of fighting but I loved my father. He was the one I felt the love from. My brother and mother were the close ones. At some point my mother left my father and we ended up at my grandmothers, on my fathers side. There we were left alone a lot. Too much. Too much time spent with my brother at a young age. Made for an awkward relationship with him, looking back.
The parents somehow got back together but he wasn’t around long. If it wasn’t for the fighting and my mom kicking him out, it was for being arrested for murder. Imagine one day you’re sleeping when you’re in the 3rd grade and the cops come raid your house. Kick you right out of bed, then we had to go to school. The news told everyone, we were bullied and had eggs thrown at us because our father was a murderer. It was pretty awful. Now the only one in the house that I really felt love from was gone. Yes the father that may have murdered. Now it’s just my mother, brother and I. I was lonely right away. Luckily I made a best friend in the neighborhood that my nano and nana lived by so no matter what I was close to her. I basically grew up eating dinner every night there. That’s how I had somewhat of an idea of what normalcy was. Dinner on the table every night kinda thing. I shared a lot with her but she, to this day, had no idea what I was actually talking about. But letting it out helped back then. How I learned to cope with the way my mother made me feel about myself and how I felt ganged up on by my mother and brother. She was young and addicted to all sorts of drugs my father had her on. He was gone and things were better but she was still a mess. To be continued…
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton