Full Circle Homecoming

COMING TO GRIPS

I swear, the worst thing for drama and trauma is to be stuck driving a vehicle by yourself for a long drive. Especially on dark icy roads that make for a much longer drive. It didn't take long to cross into Oklahoma, but once across the border, time stood still. Not wanting to waste what little funds I had on tolls, I set the GPS to the no toll route. Which takes one on a not so joyous ride on the back roads. Not the wisest of choices in good weather. It seemed like forever to find a place to pull over for the night. Oklahoma is not known for its rest stops. You are better off finding a truck stop or a casino.

When things go wrong in the life of somebody who has endured a lot of trauma, it is compiled on top of those things that still bite at you from the past. Sleeping was not an option despite my body begging for me to power down. The mind is separate from the body's energy and does its own thing. There was no shutting off my mind. There was no holding my emotions back. The gentle rocking of the car in the wind was no comfort. The heat blowing offered no warmth. Buried in my big fleece blanket, all I could do was shiver.

The mind is one's motivation. It is also one's worst enemy. Every time I tried to close my eyes, snippets of my life would play like a bad movie. One might think that dad was cruel, but he couldn't hold a candle to my mother. She was the princess of cruelty, her mother, the queen. I was actually thankful for not having service on my phone. No doubt she has tried to call me as I likely made a victim of her with my current circumstances. Everything was always about her and revolved around her. There was never any room for anybody else when it involved my mother. For eight years I lived outside my birthright, according to my mother. I will never forget the conversation when she found out I was going to college. Nothing I ever did or will ever do will ever be good enough for her, except when it is on a grander scale, and I am going beyond my birthright. Which is her way of saying I am undeserving.

I may be pretty to look at and a worthy debate opponent, but to my mother and her family, I will always be the illegitimate bastard child. Yep, that was me. My whole life I was reminded of my place. I was the product of a one-night stand because my 19-year-old mother thought she wanted a baby. And a baby she got. I was conceived and born to make her happy and make her feel unconditionally loved. An absolute failure of mine since the day I was born. There was no making her happy or feel loved. She was never and never will be capable of feeling either in her lifetime. I was her possession and there was no sharing. My biological father had no idea why she just quit talking to him and ignored him. She got what she wanted from him, and she was not letting him have anything to do with me. My father was taken from me by my own mother. When I was born she was already engaged to my dad. They posted ads in the newspaper to whom it may concern. After going the duration of required time with no answer, I was able to be legally adopted by my dad at age two. Just months after my mother gave birth to his daughter and created their family. A family I was never a part of beyond paper formalities.

My mother did things up first class. She made sure I knew that my father didn't want me. Only she wanted me. Nobody else wanted me, and she could have had me aborted, but she wanted a baby. She hunted for a good-looking and intelligent guy that would contribute what she wanted in a baby. And she got everything she asked for. Unfortunately, it came back to bite her in the butt when her other daughter was born. Her other daughter was neither cute nor intelligent. Kathy was very plain Jane and besides screaming her first six months of life, she was pretty much a spoiled house ornament. Growing up, she could do no wrong and was not a very motivated child. Her childhood was pretty much cartoons and video games. They were a family. I was the tag along. Until I met my father.

I met my father when I was eleven. A little suicide stint pushed my mother to let me actually meet him. A big piece of me actually felt like I fit somewhere for the first time in my life. However, my mother made sure that was short-lived. My father tried, he really did. I really cannot blame him. There was so much water under that bridge that the ship had long sailed away. He had no more clue what to do with me than what I had to do with him. What do you do when a half grown child shows up at your door? My father was a good man. There were no reasons for him not to have been in my life. No reason except my mother did not want to share me with him. In my eyes, my father only had one flaw. He had no backbone when it came to insecure narcissistic women. He did not choose me. He did not fight for me. He just tucked his tail and stayed in his corner like he was told. Eventually, he quit coming around and calling. I really couldn't blame him. A person can only take being told no and threatened so many times. He finally gave up. He had no rights to me. What rights he should have and could have had were stripped by the courts when I was two. When the courts changed my birth certificate and my last name, it was too late.

Brad changed all of that. He was my safe place. Where I fit in. Where I belonged in the world. My life had purpose and meaning, and so did my past. I appreciated him and loved him for that. With him, I felt loved for the first time in my life. I was somebody's priority, somebody's choice. I was lovable. We were going to make it a lifelong commitment in a year. We had saved up after paying almost everything off. We were almost there. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. Was I really unlovable? Undeserving? Was I really ment to go through life alone and unloved? My life became Déjà vu, and I had no choice or say about it all. Just like my parents, Brad made these choices for me based not by what was in my best interest, but by what was in his best interest at the time.

While I was with Brad, I forgot how to do happy alone. I forgot how to keep my guard up. I forgot how to fall or get kicked down and pick myself up. Only one thing was clear. I was going to be in for a crash course to relearn it all on my own, or just take a walk in the sub-zero temperature too far to make it back and release myself of the pain. Those were the only two decisions I was given the choice to make in this mess.