I'm the eldest of 4 children & the only one without children. C has 2 kids, L has 2 kids (as of today!!) & M has 2 kids, one biological & one step son. Society definitely says that I should have kids by now. I am 35 years old, I am happily married, I am educated & I live in the burbs. So why don't I have kids? Having kids in my opinion isn't something that you just do. Kids are a full time job, they are needy (rightfully so), they are precious & when you have them your life should revolve around them. They should be first, after God. Your actions, your thoughts, your everything HAS to be about them. I've been there & I've done that. I'm a good mom. Mothering comes very naturally to me. It's what I do & it's who I am. I do want a child & everytime I think we are ready to try something happens. One of us gets laid off, one of us needs to have a certain medication out of our system for "x" amount of months, one of us says "man, we are broken people, do we really want to bring a child into this messed up world?" Sometimes I think we've gotten to an age where we've had time to overthink all the possible things that could go wrong (I mean ALL the things). We don't want to get it wrong. We are scared to death of messing a kid up like our parents messed us up. Then I have to remember that I am not in control of my life. Everything does not have to be mapped out & planned. God knows what we all need & God knows if Troy & I will become parents one day. That is for Him to decide & not me. I am not in control.
I have been blessed with the most amazing neices & nephews. The oldest will be 11 this year & the youngest was born today. As my sister lays in that hospital bed tonight recovering from her C-section the instinct inside of me that wants to mother comes out. It wants to protect, take pain away--both emotional & physical--it wants to curl up beside her to tell her that she doesn't need to worry. That she will be okay, she is a good mom & that she has help, she is not alone. That I will help her, she can count on me. My sister called me today before her scheduled C-section & I told her that I would be at the hospital in the morning to see her & to meet my new nephew. I told her that I loved her, but inside I was a mess. Was I a bad sister for not being there the second he was born? She was about to have surgery & I wasn't going to be there. Her husband was there and his family was there, but her family was not. Her mother (not me) was not. She was having her second baby & she was there without family. My other sis, C, was caring for my neice, my dad was at work & my mom was living in a hotel. L doesn't talk much about her feelings & really she was probably fine, but I wasn't fine. I felt sad for her, I felt sad for my other sibs who've experienced child birth without their mom next to them to share that amazing experience & I felt sad for myself. The voices in my head started talking and they said "Oh, Alicia, you can't do that. You can't have a child & he/she have no grandparents. You can't have a child & be alone at the hospital."
Maybe my sister is stronger than me. Maybe I'm just a big ole emotional sap who needs to suck it up, but for now I will just live in the moment & feel sad for what my sister didn't have tonight. I will struggle with feeling like I should've been there tonight instead of in the morning. You see, that struggle, that guilt is what the eldest of a drug addict faces. I was put in a position where I had to be the parent. I should've never had to be the parent to my parent's kids. EVER. I have gotten much better about trying to be a mother to my siblings. It has not come easy though. There have been fights & arguments, them telling me to back off because they never asked for me to be their mother. That's true, they did not ask for it & neither did I. I've felt isolation because of it. I've felt unappreciated & I've felt so confused as to what my role should be at this point. What should I say? What should I do? How should I feel? How should they feel? Ultimately, I can answer those questions, but the one I will always struggle with is "How should I feel?" Feelings by defintion are an affective state of consciousness, such as that resulting from emotions, sentiments, or desires (thank you, free online dictionary by farlex). My emotions will always want the best for each of my siblings, my seniments will, too & my desire is that when one is laying in a hospital bed that they have the gentle touch of their mother's hand to tell them everything is going to be okay.
I hope my siblings know how much I love them. I imagine if I had my own child the feelings would be very similar to the ones I have for them. I would jump in front of a moving car for any one of them, without hesitation. I can be picked on, but Lord be with you if you ever, ever speak ill of one of them. The wrath would be like a lioness protecting her cubs (is there such thing as a lioness?). There is nothing they can say or do to change my mind about them. The devotion is unconditional & never ending. This post is deciated to each of you. L, C & M, I love you more than you know!
I cannot wait to meet my new nephew tomorrow!
Have a great night everyone!
Alicia
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I'm back...
Hi,
I hope you all didn't miss me too much :-) I have been busy trying to figure out how to fit it all in. I don't know how all the moms in the world do it, my hat is off to you! You see, I've worked since I was 15 years old & in 2010 I was laid off. I was working at a job that I absolutely loathed! It is, in all my years of working, the worst job I've ever had. The people, the work, the culture...everything about it sucked. I'm really lucky I was "laid off" and not fired because I wasn't too shy about the fact that I thought they were all a bunch of morons.
If you know me at all then you know I don't do anything I don't WANT to do so I wasn't about to take another job that I hated. I decided I would live under 1-10 somewhere before I did that so it took me a year to find a job that was the right fit (more on this later). In this year I learned a great deal about myself, about my marriage & about what was truly important to me.
In 2006 I was lucky enough to meet the man that would forever change my life, Troy Schmidt. I was out one night with my sister. She was dating a guy in the radio biz & she wanted to meet up with him at this club he was promoting. I did not want to go out. I had a broken heart. I'd been in several "relationships" that were very unfulfilling to me. It was my fault. I allowed it to happen. I was always the "pseudo" girlfriend. That was the way I wanted it. I didn't want anyone too close & when they began to move in I backed away. I did that until MJD. I write his full initials because I had 2 pseudos with the first name M, but M is not who I'm talking about here. MJD, the guy who I really did love & he was leaving for another country. I was very sad. My sister dragged me out & we went to a BYOB restaurant. We had a lot of wine, then went to the club her new guy was promoting. We walked up to the bar in a group...5 girls. I was the first girl in the "line" that walked in. Troy was standing at the bar with a group of guys (they were there after an awards dinner with their company). As we walked up Troy said "Anyone want a shot?" I said "I do." As I leaned back to down the shot someone behind me said something funny. I spit the entire shot all over my face. Yes, I did that. Troy crouched down & asked me if he could show me the restroom & the rest was history. I love him & I feel he saved me. He saved me from myself! I love you baby.
Okay, I really did digress. I was going to devote an entire post to him later. He deserves that. I am really here to talk about fashion. Yes, you see I am crazy, too. Who would've thunk I was going to talk about fashion with that opening? Maybe the rest of the crazies? All the K's knew I was going to talk about fashion...LOL. Anyway....
So, I was out of work for a year & I discovered that I REALLY love fashion. It was always there buried down deep or maybe not so deep. My mom always really cared about the way she looked believe it or not. I was told she would babysit (scary thought) & save all of her money for Pappagallo shoes. She loved shoes, makeup clothes so maybe I got it from her.
Before the economy was HORRIBLE we, like many people, had a very good life. We didn't bat our eyes at spending $200 on dinner. EVERY. WEEKEND. We had fancy cars, nice clothes, took lavish vacations & never worried about money. This was very different from what Troy & I had as children. We had similar backgrounds. I think we were rebelling. We were going nuts. Spending money like crazy on things that didn't matter. Then we got laid off...
We had this impression that we would always be upper middle class, that we would never want for anything. We were wrong. I was sad. Troy was sad. We felt like our lives were over. What were we going to do if we couldn't buy stuff? How were we going to be fulfilled? It was the best thing that ever happened to us. It shook us to the core. It woke us from this fantasy we were in, a false reality. A reality where there were no real connections, no real faith, no real goals. I'm embarassed that I was that person, that I invested in things that had no real meaning.
I learned to do things very differently. I was never going to turn my back on fashion. How could I stifle that? I couldn't. I started reading fashion blogs (my favs are listed in my sidebar). They gave me inspiration. Most bloggers don't shop at "box" stores. "Box" store basically means any store in the mall. They don't want to have an outfit on that someone else may have on & really I don't either. I read & obssessed for a while & then I gathered enough courage to go to my first thrift store.
Goodwill. I love. YOU! I do. I love Goodwill. I know this is really a city by city thing. Some Goodwills are not as good as others, but mine rocks! I find treasures everytime I go. Dresses are $10, Jackets are $10, Skirts are $7, Jeans are $8. I've gotten so many wonderful pieces. Some vintage, some not. I will never ever shop at a "regular" store again. Okay, maybe that is a small lie because I was at the J. Crew Factory Store last week, but still it will not be often that I shop at a store where I pay $88 for a blouse. I used to do that. I could've given that money to God, to someone that needed it. I didn't. I was selfish. I'm still learning. I'm not perfect. I'm a work in progress, but I want you to take this away from my post. Maybe my post wasn't about fashion at all. My post was about the importance of people & relationships. Stuff will never satisfy you. Ever. You can try, try, try. Go for it. It is exhausting. Let me save you some time. Invest in people, find a good church, listen to your spouse, make love in the rain (I haven't done this, baby are you reading?), volunteer your time, shop at a thrift store, tell the people you love that you love them, don't worry about stuff, don't worry about how much you weigh, don't worry about how many zero's are at the end of your 1's in your bank account. Because if that is what you focus on you will feel empty & you will feel this emptiness forever.
I am so very grateful to The Lord for knowing what I needed when I needed it. I needed to be stripped of all of my wordly possessions for a certain amount of time. I have such gratitude for what I have today & for what I am able to give. I don't ever want to return to a place where things matter more than people. They will never give me the love & encouragement that I have received in the last year. To all of my friends, thank you so much. A special thanks to D&J. I love you guys! To my counselor, R, thank you! I am so humbled by my experiences in my life & I hope those of you reading are, too.
Goodnight & next time I will write about fashion....:-)
I hope you all didn't miss me too much :-) I have been busy trying to figure out how to fit it all in. I don't know how all the moms in the world do it, my hat is off to you! You see, I've worked since I was 15 years old & in 2010 I was laid off. I was working at a job that I absolutely loathed! It is, in all my years of working, the worst job I've ever had. The people, the work, the culture...everything about it sucked. I'm really lucky I was "laid off" and not fired because I wasn't too shy about the fact that I thought they were all a bunch of morons.
If you know me at all then you know I don't do anything I don't WANT to do so I wasn't about to take another job that I hated. I decided I would live under 1-10 somewhere before I did that so it took me a year to find a job that was the right fit (more on this later). In this year I learned a great deal about myself, about my marriage & about what was truly important to me.
In 2006 I was lucky enough to meet the man that would forever change my life, Troy Schmidt. I was out one night with my sister. She was dating a guy in the radio biz & she wanted to meet up with him at this club he was promoting. I did not want to go out. I had a broken heart. I'd been in several "relationships" that were very unfulfilling to me. It was my fault. I allowed it to happen. I was always the "pseudo" girlfriend. That was the way I wanted it. I didn't want anyone too close & when they began to move in I backed away. I did that until MJD. I write his full initials because I had 2 pseudos with the first name M, but M is not who I'm talking about here. MJD, the guy who I really did love & he was leaving for another country. I was very sad. My sister dragged me out & we went to a BYOB restaurant. We had a lot of wine, then went to the club her new guy was promoting. We walked up to the bar in a group...5 girls. I was the first girl in the "line" that walked in. Troy was standing at the bar with a group of guys (they were there after an awards dinner with their company). As we walked up Troy said "Anyone want a shot?" I said "I do." As I leaned back to down the shot someone behind me said something funny. I spit the entire shot all over my face. Yes, I did that. Troy crouched down & asked me if he could show me the restroom & the rest was history. I love him & I feel he saved me. He saved me from myself! I love you baby.
Okay, I really did digress. I was going to devote an entire post to him later. He deserves that. I am really here to talk about fashion. Yes, you see I am crazy, too. Who would've thunk I was going to talk about fashion with that opening? Maybe the rest of the crazies? All the K's knew I was going to talk about fashion...LOL. Anyway....
So, I was out of work for a year & I discovered that I REALLY love fashion. It was always there buried down deep or maybe not so deep. My mom always really cared about the way she looked believe it or not. I was told she would babysit (scary thought) & save all of her money for Pappagallo shoes. She loved shoes, makeup clothes so maybe I got it from her.
Before the economy was HORRIBLE we, like many people, had a very good life. We didn't bat our eyes at spending $200 on dinner. EVERY. WEEKEND. We had fancy cars, nice clothes, took lavish vacations & never worried about money. This was very different from what Troy & I had as children. We had similar backgrounds. I think we were rebelling. We were going nuts. Spending money like crazy on things that didn't matter. Then we got laid off...
We had this impression that we would always be upper middle class, that we would never want for anything. We were wrong. I was sad. Troy was sad. We felt like our lives were over. What were we going to do if we couldn't buy stuff? How were we going to be fulfilled? It was the best thing that ever happened to us. It shook us to the core. It woke us from this fantasy we were in, a false reality. A reality where there were no real connections, no real faith, no real goals. I'm embarassed that I was that person, that I invested in things that had no real meaning.
I learned to do things very differently. I was never going to turn my back on fashion. How could I stifle that? I couldn't. I started reading fashion blogs (my favs are listed in my sidebar). They gave me inspiration. Most bloggers don't shop at "box" stores. "Box" store basically means any store in the mall. They don't want to have an outfit on that someone else may have on & really I don't either. I read & obssessed for a while & then I gathered enough courage to go to my first thrift store.
Goodwill. I love. YOU! I do. I love Goodwill. I know this is really a city by city thing. Some Goodwills are not as good as others, but mine rocks! I find treasures everytime I go. Dresses are $10, Jackets are $10, Skirts are $7, Jeans are $8. I've gotten so many wonderful pieces. Some vintage, some not. I will never ever shop at a "regular" store again. Okay, maybe that is a small lie because I was at the J. Crew Factory Store last week, but still it will not be often that I shop at a store where I pay $88 for a blouse. I used to do that. I could've given that money to God, to someone that needed it. I didn't. I was selfish. I'm still learning. I'm not perfect. I'm a work in progress, but I want you to take this away from my post. Maybe my post wasn't about fashion at all. My post was about the importance of people & relationships. Stuff will never satisfy you. Ever. You can try, try, try. Go for it. It is exhausting. Let me save you some time. Invest in people, find a good church, listen to your spouse, make love in the rain (I haven't done this, baby are you reading?), volunteer your time, shop at a thrift store, tell the people you love that you love them, don't worry about stuff, don't worry about how much you weigh, don't worry about how many zero's are at the end of your 1's in your bank account. Because if that is what you focus on you will feel empty & you will feel this emptiness forever.
I am so very grateful to The Lord for knowing what I needed when I needed it. I needed to be stripped of all of my wordly possessions for a certain amount of time. I have such gratitude for what I have today & for what I am able to give. I don't ever want to return to a place where things matter more than people. They will never give me the love & encouragement that I have received in the last year. To all of my friends, thank you so much. A special thanks to D&J. I love you guys! To my counselor, R, thank you! I am so humbled by my experiences in my life & I hope those of you reading are, too.
Goodnight & next time I will write about fashion....:-)
Monday, March 14, 2011
You Owe me This
I have been totally MIA. I was very emotional last week. Drudging up all of these buried memories took a toll on my well being. Last week I couldn't bare any more. I promised to write about fashion in this blog post, but I have some other things on my mind. I will do a post about thrifting. There is a science to it & Goodwill is my favorite store as of late. More on that later.
My mom & I have a very strange dynamic, our interaction is not typical (SURPRISE, right?). When I was younger I fought for her, I enabled her, I wiped her tears & I raised her kids. She was my mom. I thought she hung the moon. I thought she was a victim of circumstance. I thought if only she had a more supportive family, if only she was nurtured more, if only she had more love then she would be okay. The truth is I will never really know. I will never know what went wrong. What went wrong inside that home? Why was she so broken? I felt so sorry for her. We were friends & I felt sorry for my friend.
As I got older she started to resent me, she hated that I was there for her kids & I knew them better than she did. She hated that her son had very little respect for her, but he never said a cross word to me. She felt I was her competition, her rival. When I sought help I realized that I could no longer enable my mom. I could not allow her to manipulate me & I could no longer tell her what she wanted to hear. The truth can be told in love, but my mom does not want to hear the truth. The truth is too much for her to bare. So, needless to say, we've had a very rocky relationship even when she is sober. We are like water & oil. I see right through her & she does not like that. I call her on the carpet & she wants someone to just feel sorry for her. She wants someone to listen about how her life has gone terribly wrong & it is always someone else's fault. There is no accountability on her part. Ever.
My mom called me tonight & we hadn't talked in some time because really it always ends badly. I do not coddle & I do not listen to excuses. You are a 54 year old adult & you need to start acting like one. Sure, you are sick. We are all sick in some way. Figure it out. Just fucking figure it out already! I know life is hard, it is hard for everyone. But, you, mom, you just make it harder on yourself. Why oh why don't you see that?
My mom is living in a hotel right now. One of her stellar relatives invited her to live with him. I'm sure he was drunk or high when he made that suggestion---I really don't know why else he would've asked. When my sibs & I heard about this we knew it was not going to end well. This relative is toxic & that is putting it really diplomatically. But sick people attract sick people so I guess they felt it was a match made in dysFUNction heaven. I couldn't have written it better. Oh my, maybe I have ESP. Her relative decided this living arrangement was not going to work out so she is now living in a hotel. She called me tonight to talk to me about my blog because she'd heard about from some naysayers (have fun naysaying because this is not about you---this is about me & my healing. I will continue to write what I want when I want <insert tongue sticking out here>, I know, I'm so mature).
My mom asked me to read one of my entries to her. The little girl inside of me, the one that still longs for my mom, was hoping something I read would strike a cord with her. The adult me knew that was a reach. I read it anyway. She listened, but she did not hear. Afterward she never, not once, said I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you in those terrible ways, I'm sorry I wasn't a mom to you. The words I have longed to hear she never utters. She is always quick to point out how others have wronged her, but she cannot handle to listen how she has wronged her own children. She told me she was in that hotel & she was alone because she has no one. I spoke in a soft voice (okay, soft for me). I told her that she was in that hotel because that is what she has chosen for her life. I asked her why she thought she was 54 years old & was still making the same mistakes. She has a job & I asked her why she didn't save for an apartment. She told me she couldn't do that because she is paying $1,000 a month to live in a hotel. Then I said why didn't you save when you were living with your relative. This back & forth went on & on. She always has an answer, she always has an excuse. I told her I thought it was time for her to live in truth. I told her it was time to take accountability for her own actions. She said she was doing that. I corrected her. I told her she wasn't. I told her she is still blaming everyone else. I told her I would love to live somewhere rent free. I would love for someone to buy me 2 cars. She then argues that it was only one car my sister & brother-in-law bought her (I'm sure they would beg to differ). She gets caught up not in the point I'm trying to make, but the details that she wants me to get right. "No, Alicia, it wasn't 2 cars, it was 1." As if the one wasn't enough. That wasn't the point anyway. She kept telling me she had to go, she was done. She kept saying over & over again that her bath water was getting cold & she only called me to hear what my blog was about. I begged her to listen to what I was saying. I told her that was the least she could do. I told her I was hurt that she would not let me speak. She said she was hurt, too. I then tried to explain to her that she was the mom & that I was the daughter. That if she was hurt that she should tell a friend. I was her daughter & I needed her to listen to me. She couldn't do it, she could not listen. I was in mid sentence & she hung up on me.
I have been heart broken by my mom for more than half of my life. There is always this hope that one day she will not only listen, but that she will hear, that one day the words would resonate. Today was not the day. From time to time I choose to not take her calls because the calls are always much like the one I just described. Something always changes inside me though & I start taking her calls again. Maybe it's the fear that this call could be her last or that this time she would apologize or that this time the call would be about me. She would ask how my life was going, how my new job was, how my husband was. Today was not that day.
My mom & I have a very strange dynamic, our interaction is not typical (SURPRISE, right?). When I was younger I fought for her, I enabled her, I wiped her tears & I raised her kids. She was my mom. I thought she hung the moon. I thought she was a victim of circumstance. I thought if only she had a more supportive family, if only she was nurtured more, if only she had more love then she would be okay. The truth is I will never really know. I will never know what went wrong. What went wrong inside that home? Why was she so broken? I felt so sorry for her. We were friends & I felt sorry for my friend.
As I got older she started to resent me, she hated that I was there for her kids & I knew them better than she did. She hated that her son had very little respect for her, but he never said a cross word to me. She felt I was her competition, her rival. When I sought help I realized that I could no longer enable my mom. I could not allow her to manipulate me & I could no longer tell her what she wanted to hear. The truth can be told in love, but my mom does not want to hear the truth. The truth is too much for her to bare. So, needless to say, we've had a very rocky relationship even when she is sober. We are like water & oil. I see right through her & she does not like that. I call her on the carpet & she wants someone to just feel sorry for her. She wants someone to listen about how her life has gone terribly wrong & it is always someone else's fault. There is no accountability on her part. Ever.
My mom called me tonight & we hadn't talked in some time because really it always ends badly. I do not coddle & I do not listen to excuses. You are a 54 year old adult & you need to start acting like one. Sure, you are sick. We are all sick in some way. Figure it out. Just fucking figure it out already! I know life is hard, it is hard for everyone. But, you, mom, you just make it harder on yourself. Why oh why don't you see that?
My mom is living in a hotel right now. One of her stellar relatives invited her to live with him. I'm sure he was drunk or high when he made that suggestion---I really don't know why else he would've asked. When my sibs & I heard about this we knew it was not going to end well. This relative is toxic & that is putting it really diplomatically. But sick people attract sick people so I guess they felt it was a match made in dysFUNction heaven. I couldn't have written it better. Oh my, maybe I have ESP. Her relative decided this living arrangement was not going to work out so she is now living in a hotel. She called me tonight to talk to me about my blog because she'd heard about from some naysayers (have fun naysaying because this is not about you---this is about me & my healing. I will continue to write what I want when I want <insert tongue sticking out here>, I know, I'm so mature).
My mom asked me to read one of my entries to her. The little girl inside of me, the one that still longs for my mom, was hoping something I read would strike a cord with her. The adult me knew that was a reach. I read it anyway. She listened, but she did not hear. Afterward she never, not once, said I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you in those terrible ways, I'm sorry I wasn't a mom to you. The words I have longed to hear she never utters. She is always quick to point out how others have wronged her, but she cannot handle to listen how she has wronged her own children. She told me she was in that hotel & she was alone because she has no one. I spoke in a soft voice (okay, soft for me). I told her that she was in that hotel because that is what she has chosen for her life. I asked her why she thought she was 54 years old & was still making the same mistakes. She has a job & I asked her why she didn't save for an apartment. She told me she couldn't do that because she is paying $1,000 a month to live in a hotel. Then I said why didn't you save when you were living with your relative. This back & forth went on & on. She always has an answer, she always has an excuse. I told her I thought it was time for her to live in truth. I told her it was time to take accountability for her own actions. She said she was doing that. I corrected her. I told her she wasn't. I told her she is still blaming everyone else. I told her I would love to live somewhere rent free. I would love for someone to buy me 2 cars. She then argues that it was only one car my sister & brother-in-law bought her (I'm sure they would beg to differ). She gets caught up not in the point I'm trying to make, but the details that she wants me to get right. "No, Alicia, it wasn't 2 cars, it was 1." As if the one wasn't enough. That wasn't the point anyway. She kept telling me she had to go, she was done. She kept saying over & over again that her bath water was getting cold & she only called me to hear what my blog was about. I begged her to listen to what I was saying. I told her that was the least she could do. I told her I was hurt that she would not let me speak. She said she was hurt, too. I then tried to explain to her that she was the mom & that I was the daughter. That if she was hurt that she should tell a friend. I was her daughter & I needed her to listen to me. She couldn't do it, she could not listen. I was in mid sentence & she hung up on me.
I have been heart broken by my mom for more than half of my life. There is always this hope that one day she will not only listen, but that she will hear, that one day the words would resonate. Today was not the day. From time to time I choose to not take her calls because the calls are always much like the one I just described. Something always changes inside me though & I start taking her calls again. Maybe it's the fear that this call could be her last or that this time she would apologize or that this time the call would be about me. She would ask how my life was going, how my new job was, how my husband was. Today was not that day.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Clarification
Hi! I won't be able to write tomorrow because I have a very full day, but I felt compelled to write again after receiving an e-mail from my aunt. She is a wonderful person. She is my mom's youngest sister. She is not crazy. Unconfrontational, yes. Crazy, no. I guess I always wished she would take a stand for me. I wanted her to shout from the rooftops that I was okay. That I shouldn't be treated like a creep because the wrong person birthed me. When I was a kid I would spend the night with her. She would play little bunny foo foo with me when we went to bed & I would always wake her up at the crack of dawn. She was a teenager at the time so you know she needed her beauty rest. She taught me how to tie my shoes & how to apply makeup. I looked up to her. She was there when I couldn't bear to sleep at my apartment after my divorce. She is a friend to Troy & I now. I love you, T.
Now here's where I need to clarify. I created this blog as a way to release my feelings. When you don't have a mom & she is killling herself right before your eyes it is sad. I am not an unhappy person. I am a stable, educated, job-having (finally), happily married, suburb living, church going, wine drinking, FUN person. BUT, when you have a family member who is a drug addict there is a lot of baggage that comes along with that. The best way I can describe it is like a dull pain that never fully goes away. My mom is a drug addict today & she wil be one tomorrow, also. In my last post I expressed anger towards my mom's family. That anger is real & it is raw. Most importantly, it is mine. I get to feel however I want to feel. The anger isn't constant or runing my life or anything, but in certain situations it comes up. I realize that there is good in all of us. They aren't awful because they didn't get to know me or my siblings (and we're pretty bad ass if I do say so myself) & in no way was it their responsibilty to raise my mother's children. Maybe I didn't make that clear in my last post. My mom & my mom alone is accountable for her actions. Once she became an adult & made the choice to have 4 children she should have stopped all the sheningans & she didn't.
*I think my anger isn't really anger, it is pain. Anger is an easier emotion to express.
My mom is my mom & even though she has not been the mother I've needed I love her. I love her very much. When she is wrong (a lot) I tell her she is wrong. When someone else is wrong I tell them they are wrong. When you tell my mom she is wrong & it is in front of me & she isn't wrong I will tell you to back off. She has no confidence or self-esteem. She is broken, but she is my mom. I will defend her until she is buried because she is my mom. I love my mom.
Have a great night!
*The next post will be about FASHION. I am sick of all this heavy stuff & I'm sure you are, too. Also, if you know where I can find a pair of red pants can you point me in the right direction? I've scoured the internet to no avail. I need some red pants!
*Just a friendly reminder that this blog is my account of things that happened to me. They are based on my feelings of the way things went down. The purpose is not to offend anyone, but to let people know that it is okay to be sad. You can come from this & you can have a successful life. I thank God daily for my life & for His grace.
Now here's where I need to clarify. I created this blog as a way to release my feelings. When you don't have a mom & she is killling herself right before your eyes it is sad. I am not an unhappy person. I am a stable, educated, job-having (finally), happily married, suburb living, church going, wine drinking, FUN person. BUT, when you have a family member who is a drug addict there is a lot of baggage that comes along with that. The best way I can describe it is like a dull pain that never fully goes away. My mom is a drug addict today & she wil be one tomorrow, also. In my last post I expressed anger towards my mom's family. That anger is real & it is raw. Most importantly, it is mine. I get to feel however I want to feel. The anger isn't constant or runing my life or anything, but in certain situations it comes up. I realize that there is good in all of us. They aren't awful because they didn't get to know me or my siblings (and we're pretty bad ass if I do say so myself) & in no way was it their responsibilty to raise my mother's children. Maybe I didn't make that clear in my last post. My mom & my mom alone is accountable for her actions. Once she became an adult & made the choice to have 4 children she should have stopped all the sheningans & she didn't.
*I think my anger isn't really anger, it is pain. Anger is an easier emotion to express.
My mom is my mom & even though she has not been the mother I've needed I love her. I love her very much. When she is wrong (a lot) I tell her she is wrong. When someone else is wrong I tell them they are wrong. When you tell my mom she is wrong & it is in front of me & she isn't wrong I will tell you to back off. She has no confidence or self-esteem. She is broken, but she is my mom. I will defend her until she is buried because she is my mom. I love my mom.
Have a great night!
*The next post will be about FASHION. I am sick of all this heavy stuff & I'm sure you are, too. Also, if you know where I can find a pair of red pants can you point me in the right direction? I've scoured the internet to no avail. I need some red pants!
*Just a friendly reminder that this blog is my account of things that happened to me. They are based on my feelings of the way things went down. The purpose is not to offend anyone, but to let people know that it is okay to be sad. You can come from this & you can have a successful life. I thank God daily for my life & for His grace.
Discovery
I was in 10th grade. We were living in the apartment we moved to after my brother's dad told my mom he was in love with another woman. Somehow I thought if we got away from him things would get better. I guess I was just hoping. My mom was still working as a waitress & she was gone a lot. After work most times she would go out to Wild West, a Country Western bar. One night she ran into an old "friend" and he ended up back at our apartment. I remember his face. He was younger than my mom & quite a good looking guy. His name was Chris. Chris was there for a few days & then he wasn't. My mom was in her bedroom & I heard her yell for me. Apparently the rent money in her armoire was gone. She asked me if I'd seen it and of course I hadn't. I learned at that time that Chris was addicted to crack cocaine. He had stolen my mom's money.
I don't remember how much time had gone by between the time Chris left & I made my discovery. It couldn't have been that long. I remember my mom was acting very strange. I always knew when she was high & I knew what kind of drugs she was on. Her drug of choice was cocaine. She snorted it mostly, I think. I told you about the needles, but I think snorting was the main mode of ingestion. This was different. The look in her blank eyes was different. I started snooping as I often did. She did not have control over me. The roles were reversed in this apartment. I was the mom, she was the child. I was yelling at her & questioning her. She never told the truth, but the truth has it's way of coming out. I looked underneath her bathroom sink and there it was. The truth was under her bathroom sink. The reason for her soul being gone. It was a coke can, a coke can with a hole in it. It had ashes on top of it. My heart sank, I knew this was irreversible. I cried, yelled & screamed. I wanted someone to wake me from this nightmare, but no one did. My mom was smoking crack cocaine out of that can. What was I going to do? What were her children going to do?
You see, friends, there are levels of narcotics. Pot? Yeah, that is acceptable. It makes you sleepy, unmotivated to do anything with your life & you may think shows like South Park are cool to watch. You will laugh your ass off at a cartoon. A stupid. Cartoon. Ecstasy? Yep, this one is cool, too. You are in love with everyone you see. Life is good. No pain. No worries. All the cool kids are doing it. Cocaine? Now this is kinda okay. Well it depends. How often are you doing it? Just on the weekends? Well that's okay. It's just recreational. BUT, CRACK COCAINE? Only people on the streets smoke crack cocaine. This is not a white man's drug. Crack is a monkey you cannot get off your back. He will stay there and not budge. He will steel your possessions, your life. He will ruin you. There is no such thing as recreational crack use. There is no holding a job, supporting your kids, being a mom. It is all over. And I was 16 & I knew that. I knew this was the end.*
I can't remember exactly how long we lived with my mom when she was under the influence of crack cocaine. It seemed like an eternity before someone came & removed us from that mess. You would think the only family we had was our mother. People knew what was going on in that house & no one came for us. They knew my mom was unstable & they did nothing. They carried on with their lives, consumed with making sure everyone knew their family and it's members were normal. What a freaking joke. Read these words clearly. NONE OF YOU ARE NORMAL, YOU ARE ALL SO SICK. You are grown ups and you are all completely fucking clueless. My mom was a burden, the bad one & her kids by default were also bad. They weren't worth investing in or saving. That's how the family members that did not come for us made me feel. Like we were not worthy. Even now when something goes wrong it is not anyone else's fault, but my mom's. Someone could murder someone else and her family would say "Well it's L's fault." Come on people, wake up!! Not everything is L's fault. The rest of your family is crazy, too. There is enough crazy for each person to get some of the blame. Oh wait I have an idea. It's a good one & I came up with it all by myself. How about you all stop blaming everyone else for the issues going on in this sorry excuse for a family. How about you look in the mirror. How about you hold the person cussing you out on the phone accountable for his actions. No, that would be impossible. He may take you on a vacation, can't burn those bridges. SICK!**
That apartment was filled with many people at any given time. It was mostly black guys, they would sleep on the floors of our apartment. My mom was selling our food stamps in exchange for drugs. I remember one day our cabinet was pretty bare. I was working at a local mexican restaurant as a hostess so I had a little bit of money. I asked someone to take me to Food Town (remember those?). I went & purchased a few things, but the one thing that stands out in my mind was Lemon cookies. I like lemon cookies now, but I'm not sure I even like them then. I came home & my wallet was on the kitchen counter. I was putting the groceries away. I was about to go to my room & I remembered I needed to grab my wallet. It was gone. My wallet was just on the counter & now it is not. Where in the hell is my wallet? It had $20 in it & I need it. I asked my mom if she had seen it & she said she hadn't, but that she would help me look for it. She helped me look for my wallet. The one that she stole. I mean couldn't you just take the money? No, she wanted me to feel like I lost my wallet. That wallet was never returned to me, although my mom did admit to me later that she did in fact steal it.
Have a great day, friends!
Alicia
*I hope my sarcasm is duely noted. I do not endorse or agree with any drug use. Drugs are drugs, one is no better than the other.
**I am cussing a lot here & I realize that some people who are reading may be offended. I am angry still about a lot of things that went on in my childhood. This is my release, my outlet, my therpay. If you are offended I suggest you stop reading.
I don't remember how much time had gone by between the time Chris left & I made my discovery. It couldn't have been that long. I remember my mom was acting very strange. I always knew when she was high & I knew what kind of drugs she was on. Her drug of choice was cocaine. She snorted it mostly, I think. I told you about the needles, but I think snorting was the main mode of ingestion. This was different. The look in her blank eyes was different. I started snooping as I often did. She did not have control over me. The roles were reversed in this apartment. I was the mom, she was the child. I was yelling at her & questioning her. She never told the truth, but the truth has it's way of coming out. I looked underneath her bathroom sink and there it was. The truth was under her bathroom sink. The reason for her soul being gone. It was a coke can, a coke can with a hole in it. It had ashes on top of it. My heart sank, I knew this was irreversible. I cried, yelled & screamed. I wanted someone to wake me from this nightmare, but no one did. My mom was smoking crack cocaine out of that can. What was I going to do? What were her children going to do?
You see, friends, there are levels of narcotics. Pot? Yeah, that is acceptable. It makes you sleepy, unmotivated to do anything with your life & you may think shows like South Park are cool to watch. You will laugh your ass off at a cartoon. A stupid. Cartoon. Ecstasy? Yep, this one is cool, too. You are in love with everyone you see. Life is good. No pain. No worries. All the cool kids are doing it. Cocaine? Now this is kinda okay. Well it depends. How often are you doing it? Just on the weekends? Well that's okay. It's just recreational. BUT, CRACK COCAINE? Only people on the streets smoke crack cocaine. This is not a white man's drug. Crack is a monkey you cannot get off your back. He will stay there and not budge. He will steel your possessions, your life. He will ruin you. There is no such thing as recreational crack use. There is no holding a job, supporting your kids, being a mom. It is all over. And I was 16 & I knew that. I knew this was the end.*
I can't remember exactly how long we lived with my mom when she was under the influence of crack cocaine. It seemed like an eternity before someone came & removed us from that mess. You would think the only family we had was our mother. People knew what was going on in that house & no one came for us. They knew my mom was unstable & they did nothing. They carried on with their lives, consumed with making sure everyone knew their family and it's members were normal. What a freaking joke. Read these words clearly. NONE OF YOU ARE NORMAL, YOU ARE ALL SO SICK. You are grown ups and you are all completely fucking clueless. My mom was a burden, the bad one & her kids by default were also bad. They weren't worth investing in or saving. That's how the family members that did not come for us made me feel. Like we were not worthy. Even now when something goes wrong it is not anyone else's fault, but my mom's. Someone could murder someone else and her family would say "Well it's L's fault." Come on people, wake up!! Not everything is L's fault. The rest of your family is crazy, too. There is enough crazy for each person to get some of the blame. Oh wait I have an idea. It's a good one & I came up with it all by myself. How about you all stop blaming everyone else for the issues going on in this sorry excuse for a family. How about you look in the mirror. How about you hold the person cussing you out on the phone accountable for his actions. No, that would be impossible. He may take you on a vacation, can't burn those bridges. SICK!**
That apartment was filled with many people at any given time. It was mostly black guys, they would sleep on the floors of our apartment. My mom was selling our food stamps in exchange for drugs. I remember one day our cabinet was pretty bare. I was working at a local mexican restaurant as a hostess so I had a little bit of money. I asked someone to take me to Food Town (remember those?). I went & purchased a few things, but the one thing that stands out in my mind was Lemon cookies. I like lemon cookies now, but I'm not sure I even like them then. I came home & my wallet was on the kitchen counter. I was putting the groceries away. I was about to go to my room & I remembered I needed to grab my wallet. It was gone. My wallet was just on the counter & now it is not. Where in the hell is my wallet? It had $20 in it & I need it. I asked my mom if she had seen it & she said she hadn't, but that she would help me look for it. She helped me look for my wallet. The one that she stole. I mean couldn't you just take the money? No, she wanted me to feel like I lost my wallet. That wallet was never returned to me, although my mom did admit to me later that she did in fact steal it.
Have a great day, friends!
Alicia
*I hope my sarcasm is duely noted. I do not endorse or agree with any drug use. Drugs are drugs, one is no better than the other.
**I am cussing a lot here & I realize that some people who are reading may be offended. I am angry still about a lot of things that went on in my childhood. This is my release, my outlet, my therpay. If you are offended I suggest you stop reading.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Home
Good morning everyone! I worked a 3 day conference last week which included Saturday so I will be working from home today. I love being in this space. I am such a complete & total home body these days. If we ever move from this house I will be sad. It is a very modest 2,300 square feet, but it is ours & it feels so safe here.
As a kid one of the many places we lived was in Katy. It was grades 4th through 7th for me. The house was painted light yellow & we were renting it. I think it was the first house we ever lived in. Before then we moved from apartment to apartment. We lived there with my brother's father & my mom. There was drug use in that house, also. I remember needles. I remember walking in a room and seeing people using needles. My brother's dad was not a nice man. He was downright mean actually. He was very abusive to my mother & it is my belief that he is the person who introduced her to drugs. I think she may have done acid in high school. I do not blame him for who she is today. I believe that we must all be held accountable for our own actions, but together in that house they did drugs. A lot of them. With 4 children all under the age of 10 in that house.
Even though the home was a nightmare on the inside I can remember loving Katy. I loved the people. I would escape to neighbors houses as often as possible. We had some really nice neighbors. I do think I always tried to hide what was really going on in that house, but they all knew. There were a lot of fights & the police were at that house often. The fits of rage would be so scary. I remember one day, it was my sister C's* birthday. The stepdad was mad at my mom & he tore all of her wrapped presents open one by one. I can remember her face like it was yesterday. She was short with long blonde hair. Her face was round and pudgy. She was terrified. I wanted to save her. I wanted to whisk her away. I knew I would be okay, but would she? I wanted her to be okay. I wanted us all to just be okay.
We left that house rather abruptly & I don't know why. I can remember leaving a lot of our stuff there, in the garage. That memory haunted me for years. I mean who leaves half their shit in the garage when they move? How disrespectful to the owners of that house who had to clean up your mess. We moved into a house that had a pool in the backyard. It was towards Clear Lake & I hated living there. The school was awful. The people were awful. The carpet in that house was blue. Royal. Blue. Little did I know we wouldn't be there long. We only lived in that house for a year. The stepdad was cheating on my mom & told her he was in love with another woman. I was thinking "Hallelujah, thank you, God." The worst was still yet to come though.
For many years I had dreams about Katy, Texas. I had dreams that I lived there again. I had these dreams over & over as a kid. When I was able to afford a home I knew where I was going to live. After dating for 3 years my boyfriend & I decided that we were going to build a house. We knew we were going to get married that year. We looked in other parts of Houston, but none of those places felt right. We came to search in Katy & even my boyfriend liked it's vibe. We stood in a field with the saleswoman on a corner lot & we said "Yes, we'll take it." We would come & visit periodically as the house was being built &when the frame was up I cried. I cried because this was the frame of MY house. A safe place where there was no violence, no drug use, no abuse. There would be love in this house, peace & harmony. There have been so many wonderful memories in this house. I don't ever want to leave. This isn't just a house, it is a home.
Have a great day everyone!
*I will only use initials when referring to other people on this blog. I will do this in an effort to respect their privacy.
As a kid one of the many places we lived was in Katy. It was grades 4th through 7th for me. The house was painted light yellow & we were renting it. I think it was the first house we ever lived in. Before then we moved from apartment to apartment. We lived there with my brother's father & my mom. There was drug use in that house, also. I remember needles. I remember walking in a room and seeing people using needles. My brother's dad was not a nice man. He was downright mean actually. He was very abusive to my mother & it is my belief that he is the person who introduced her to drugs. I think she may have done acid in high school. I do not blame him for who she is today. I believe that we must all be held accountable for our own actions, but together in that house they did drugs. A lot of them. With 4 children all under the age of 10 in that house.
Even though the home was a nightmare on the inside I can remember loving Katy. I loved the people. I would escape to neighbors houses as often as possible. We had some really nice neighbors. I do think I always tried to hide what was really going on in that house, but they all knew. There were a lot of fights & the police were at that house often. The fits of rage would be so scary. I remember one day, it was my sister C's* birthday. The stepdad was mad at my mom & he tore all of her wrapped presents open one by one. I can remember her face like it was yesterday. She was short with long blonde hair. Her face was round and pudgy. She was terrified. I wanted to save her. I wanted to whisk her away. I knew I would be okay, but would she? I wanted her to be okay. I wanted us all to just be okay.
We left that house rather abruptly & I don't know why. I can remember leaving a lot of our stuff there, in the garage. That memory haunted me for years. I mean who leaves half their shit in the garage when they move? How disrespectful to the owners of that house who had to clean up your mess. We moved into a house that had a pool in the backyard. It was towards Clear Lake & I hated living there. The school was awful. The people were awful. The carpet in that house was blue. Royal. Blue. Little did I know we wouldn't be there long. We only lived in that house for a year. The stepdad was cheating on my mom & told her he was in love with another woman. I was thinking "Hallelujah, thank you, God." The worst was still yet to come though.
For many years I had dreams about Katy, Texas. I had dreams that I lived there again. I had these dreams over & over as a kid. When I was able to afford a home I knew where I was going to live. After dating for 3 years my boyfriend & I decided that we were going to build a house. We knew we were going to get married that year. We looked in other parts of Houston, but none of those places felt right. We came to search in Katy & even my boyfriend liked it's vibe. We stood in a field with the saleswoman on a corner lot & we said "Yes, we'll take it." We would come & visit periodically as the house was being built &when the frame was up I cried. I cried because this was the frame of MY house. A safe place where there was no violence, no drug use, no abuse. There would be love in this house, peace & harmony. There have been so many wonderful memories in this house. I don't ever want to leave. This isn't just a house, it is a home.
Have a great day everyone!
*I will only use initials when referring to other people on this blog. I will do this in an effort to respect their privacy.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
It's Still Sunday
Hi again! Okay, so I lost it today at church. I was a blubbering mess when the band was singing. The words in the songs were so profound to me today. As the band sung "Our God Saves & Rescue" I had tears rollling down my cheeks. They were happy tears for the Hope that is availabe only through our Lord Jesus. They were sad tears also because my mom doesn't know His love for her. Yes, even her, in her messed up, drug induced state. He loves her, too. She accepted Him as her Savior many times over, but I know she does not believe she is forgiven. It is my belief that she continues to medicate because she does not believe she is worthy of anything else. I think some would argue that her salvation is conditional (My church may even believe this). I need to talk to my pastor about this. I don't believe salvation is conditional.
These emotions aren't totally out of the blue. I am struggling right now. I thought I had it all figured out. I have been dealing with this monster for over 20 years. I should be okay by now, right? No. I'm not okay. I mean I'm not going to die or anything & I know that no matter what I will be okay because I have ALWAYS been in God's grip. ALWAYS. I wasn't raised in the church. We never had a church home. Maybe we went on Easter & Christmas, but even that was not consistent. I went with my friends families when I spent the night. I was known to seek out friends that had really good families. That was what I was lacking. That is what I craved. A nuclear family. One with a mom and a dad.
I can remember being at a church in 8th grade with my friends. We were in with the youth group. Everyone was asked if they would like to accept the Lord into their hearts as their Savior. I stood up. Without thinking. I rose from my seat & went onto a stage & I cried my eyes out & I accepted Him into my life & into my heart. I felt His presence way before then, but that was the moment I declared Him supreme over my life. I know that some in my same situation may think "Okay, Lord where are you because these living conditions aren't too great." There was a lot of times I could've doubted Him & I never did. Now let me be clear. I have not always lived for Him. In fact I was quite a crazy party animal once upon a time. Sleeping with men I didn't love & who didn't love me. I dabbled in drugs, also. Even then I knew I was not alone. God wanted me to come to Him. He wanted to be the Father I didn't have. He wanted to love me as only He could.
As I sit here today I will tell you that I am only who I am because God created me this way. He molded me into this person that is discerning, intuitive & strong. Even in times of serious & crippling struggle there is a blessing waiting around the corner. I can say this emphatically because I see God's fingerprints all over my life in so many ways. There is simply no other explanation for me. If He didn't exist I wouldn't be here. Statistics show that children of drug addicts will also be drug addicts. They will get pregnant out of wedlock, they will be on welfare. They will be dead, commiting crimes or in jail. I know that I am not the only person that has made it out of this thing half sane, but I had nothing to do with it. This was who I was going to be long before I was conceived. There is a plan for my life & for yours. Open your heart to Him. Find a church. Get involved. He wants to be your Father. He wants to dry your tears. You can come to Him in any state. There is no sin He cannot bear.
I want to thank the people of CP7L and to my amazing home team (small group). You are my family, you have taught me so much about myself and about others. A special thanks to CL. You are wise beyond words my friend. You taught me to sit still even when I was so angry I could scream. You taught me that all families have issues, even church families. The rewards are seen when you work it out. Running is easy. You taught me not to run. Thank you so much for caring about me enough to help me through that. I am so thrilled to be sharing my journey with all of you. I cannot think of anyone else more loving & more compassionate. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you all so much!
I'm off to make seafood enchiladas for my amazing husband. Have a great night everyone.
These emotions aren't totally out of the blue. I am struggling right now. I thought I had it all figured out. I have been dealing with this monster for over 20 years. I should be okay by now, right? No. I'm not okay. I mean I'm not going to die or anything & I know that no matter what I will be okay because I have ALWAYS been in God's grip. ALWAYS. I wasn't raised in the church. We never had a church home. Maybe we went on Easter & Christmas, but even that was not consistent. I went with my friends families when I spent the night. I was known to seek out friends that had really good families. That was what I was lacking. That is what I craved. A nuclear family. One with a mom and a dad.
I can remember being at a church in 8th grade with my friends. We were in with the youth group. Everyone was asked if they would like to accept the Lord into their hearts as their Savior. I stood up. Without thinking. I rose from my seat & went onto a stage & I cried my eyes out & I accepted Him into my life & into my heart. I felt His presence way before then, but that was the moment I declared Him supreme over my life. I know that some in my same situation may think "Okay, Lord where are you because these living conditions aren't too great." There was a lot of times I could've doubted Him & I never did. Now let me be clear. I have not always lived for Him. In fact I was quite a crazy party animal once upon a time. Sleeping with men I didn't love & who didn't love me. I dabbled in drugs, also. Even then I knew I was not alone. God wanted me to come to Him. He wanted to be the Father I didn't have. He wanted to love me as only He could.
As I sit here today I will tell you that I am only who I am because God created me this way. He molded me into this person that is discerning, intuitive & strong. Even in times of serious & crippling struggle there is a blessing waiting around the corner. I can say this emphatically because I see God's fingerprints all over my life in so many ways. There is simply no other explanation for me. If He didn't exist I wouldn't be here. Statistics show that children of drug addicts will also be drug addicts. They will get pregnant out of wedlock, they will be on welfare. They will be dead, commiting crimes or in jail. I know that I am not the only person that has made it out of this thing half sane, but I had nothing to do with it. This was who I was going to be long before I was conceived. There is a plan for my life & for yours. Open your heart to Him. Find a church. Get involved. He wants to be your Father. He wants to dry your tears. You can come to Him in any state. There is no sin He cannot bear.
I want to thank the people of CP7L and to my amazing home team (small group). You are my family, you have taught me so much about myself and about others. A special thanks to CL. You are wise beyond words my friend. You taught me to sit still even when I was so angry I could scream. You taught me that all families have issues, even church families. The rewards are seen when you work it out. Running is easy. You taught me not to run. Thank you so much for caring about me enough to help me through that. I am so thrilled to be sharing my journey with all of you. I cannot think of anyone else more loving & more compassionate. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you all so much!
I'm off to make seafood enchiladas for my amazing husband. Have a great night everyone.
Sunday
Good morning! I love morning time. It is a gorgeous day here in Katy, Texas. I'm sipping my coffee anticipating a great day filled with fellowship at church & then an awesome workout at the Y. I take a class called Body Combat & it is so much fun & INTENSE. When I leave the gym I feel stronger & better after taking that class.
I should've mentioned in my first post that I am a faithful follwer of Jesus & I do believe it is solely because of His amazing Grace that I sit here today. Not only do I sit here "normal" (what does that mean anyway), but I do have a great deal of clarity. I am not perfect. In fact I am far from it, but I hope when I die my purpose has aligned with what He expects/expected from me. I strive to love others like He loves me & to be a kind, compassionate person.
Last night when I went to bed I was so happy that I finally started a blog. It's something I've wanted to do for quite some time. I thought I wanted to start a fashion blog because I follow a lot of them & the ladies that write them truly inspire me. I love fashion. I always really have, but when I was out of work for a year I really, really became enthralled in it. Of course, when you are open & honest about your life there is a great deal of vunerability that comes along with that. Someone could judge or hurt me because of what I am saying in this blog. Those were my thoughts as I laid my head on my pillow. My next thought was it's okay. It is okay of someone doesn't like what I am writing because this isn't about them. This is about me. This is my story & this is my life. I also her voices saying "Come on girl you are 35 years old now, get over it." I also heard "Everyone has a story, no one had a perfect childhood." I think there is a misconception that when you grow up you no longer need your parents. Sure you don't need them in the ways you used to, but you still crave them. I always will. This never gets easier. To be quite frank there is no end in sight either. My mom is still alive (this sheer fact is a freaking miracle) & she is still very much a drug addict. It is not over. Will it ever be over? I am sad that she is here living the way she is & I will be sad when she is gone. I will be sad about what could have been. I will be sad that she never experienced life in the ways I did. I will be sad because she could never quite get it together. I will be sad because we never had mother/daughter lunches, we never took shopping trips & we never got manicures and pedicures together. I will be sad because I will never drop my child off to mom's so the husband & I can have date night. I will be sad because she never knew me. The real me. I will be sad because she never knew the real her & she never realized her own potential.
So yeah, to those that may criticize me, I say this. Don't. Don't say a word because this is not about you. This is my truth. And this is the truth for many people in the world. Drug addiction claims the lives of many & it's not just the person using the drugs. It is every person in close proximity. It does not discriminate. It will take your heart & stomp it into the ground. It will chew you up & spit you out. It is unforgiving & it does not care about you & your feelings.
Have a great Sunday everyone. I am late for church. Bye!
I should've mentioned in my first post that I am a faithful follwer of Jesus & I do believe it is solely because of His amazing Grace that I sit here today. Not only do I sit here "normal" (what does that mean anyway), but I do have a great deal of clarity. I am not perfect. In fact I am far from it, but I hope when I die my purpose has aligned with what He expects/expected from me. I strive to love others like He loves me & to be a kind, compassionate person.
Last night when I went to bed I was so happy that I finally started a blog. It's something I've wanted to do for quite some time. I thought I wanted to start a fashion blog because I follow a lot of them & the ladies that write them truly inspire me. I love fashion. I always really have, but when I was out of work for a year I really, really became enthralled in it. Of course, when you are open & honest about your life there is a great deal of vunerability that comes along with that. Someone could judge or hurt me because of what I am saying in this blog. Those were my thoughts as I laid my head on my pillow. My next thought was it's okay. It is okay of someone doesn't like what I am writing because this isn't about them. This is about me. This is my story & this is my life. I also her voices saying "Come on girl you are 35 years old now, get over it." I also heard "Everyone has a story, no one had a perfect childhood." I think there is a misconception that when you grow up you no longer need your parents. Sure you don't need them in the ways you used to, but you still crave them. I always will. This never gets easier. To be quite frank there is no end in sight either. My mom is still alive (this sheer fact is a freaking miracle) & she is still very much a drug addict. It is not over. Will it ever be over? I am sad that she is here living the way she is & I will be sad when she is gone. I will be sad about what could have been. I will be sad that she never experienced life in the ways I did. I will be sad because she could never quite get it together. I will be sad because we never had mother/daughter lunches, we never took shopping trips & we never got manicures and pedicures together. I will be sad because I will never drop my child off to mom's so the husband & I can have date night. I will be sad because she never knew me. The real me. I will be sad because she never knew the real her & she never realized her own potential.
So yeah, to those that may criticize me, I say this. Don't. Don't say a word because this is not about you. This is my truth. And this is the truth for many people in the world. Drug addiction claims the lives of many & it's not just the person using the drugs. It is every person in close proximity. It does not discriminate. It will take your heart & stomp it into the ground. It will chew you up & spit you out. It is unforgiving & it does not care about you & your feelings.
Have a great Sunday everyone. I am late for church. Bye!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Beginning of the End
Hi! My name is Alicia & I am a 35 year old, happily married, dog loving, suburb dwelling woman. My mom is also a drug addict. The prior sentence could not be included in the description of myself because it does not define me. It is not my fault & it is not my problem. But it does effect me in ways that I am still discovering.
I have 3 siblings & I am the eldest. I could take you all the way back to birth, but I will spare you those details. We moved around quite a bit when I was a kid. My freshman year in high school we moved because my mom & stepdad were separating. We moved from a house with a pool into an apartment. I cried when I saw it. Not that the house or my step dad were anything special, but we were uprooting again. I had to make new friends again and my mom was sad. Again.
My mom worked as a waitress, something she had always done. We were alone a lot. When she wasn't working she was out partying, doing drugs & being a single woman forgetting about the four kids at home who needed her. When she came home she would often bring random men with her. When she didn't come home I was worried sick & scared. I remember being very protective of her & my siblings though. I wanted her to be okay & I wanted them to be okay. Sometimes I think back to those times and I don't know how I came out on the other side. I guess I was just so concerned with everyone else that I didn't have time to think about the gravity of the situation I was in. I just survived. I survived for myself & for my siblings. A lot of times I think I saved them (how arrogant can I be), but maybe they saved me.
Thanks for reading.
*I will be writing everyday & even though I may seem to end a post abruptly I can assure you I will continue.
I have 3 siblings & I am the eldest. I could take you all the way back to birth, but I will spare you those details. We moved around quite a bit when I was a kid. My freshman year in high school we moved because my mom & stepdad were separating. We moved from a house with a pool into an apartment. I cried when I saw it. Not that the house or my step dad were anything special, but we were uprooting again. I had to make new friends again and my mom was sad. Again.
My mom worked as a waitress, something she had always done. We were alone a lot. When she wasn't working she was out partying, doing drugs & being a single woman forgetting about the four kids at home who needed her. When she came home she would often bring random men with her. When she didn't come home I was worried sick & scared. I remember being very protective of her & my siblings though. I wanted her to be okay & I wanted them to be okay. Sometimes I think back to those times and I don't know how I came out on the other side. I guess I was just so concerned with everyone else that I didn't have time to think about the gravity of the situation I was in. I just survived. I survived for myself & for my siblings. A lot of times I think I saved them (how arrogant can I be), but maybe they saved me.
Thanks for reading.
*I will be writing everyday & even though I may seem to end a post abruptly I can assure you I will continue.
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