This weekend was pretty nice. Even though I spent the entire time de-germing and steam cleaning, I still had time to relax with my daughter. Unfortunately it was still very hot so we couldn�t spend a lot of time outside. She was pissed about that.
She was sick Friday morning and I had to leave work early, but by Friday night she was fine. She went up to play with her little friend Mac. He�s so cute, and his momma Romy is one smart cookie. I think she and I have a lot in common. I also think that we could be friends as long as we agree to not talk about Ahmad. I�m not going to ever like him and she is always going to be his co-worker.
Problem is, I�m a recluse and I�m not great at cultivating new friendships with my neighbors due to the simple fact that I always end up with my Steve Madden boots in my mouth.
I�m pretty stubborn and opinionated, not really a marshmallow. If I don�t like something, I just say it. I don�t know if Romy likes more subtle folks or not, but I believe despite that, we will make nice, courteous neighbors. Because she�s a true lady, and I�m a true homebody. She�ll ignore me and I�ll just be the same person I�ve always been.
I was looking forward to attending this Episcopal Church on Sunday. They seem like really cool people and I won�t have to deal with that judgmental crap I�ve always run across in other religions. Yay.
I was also psyched to be meeting up later Sunday with my friend Riker from high school, and his son. However, Sunday came and I was drained. Besides all the cleaning, I had spent a lot of time on the phone Saturday night with Nicole, Darwin�s daughter. Nicole and I, since her dad was my guardian, had been raised as sisters instead of cousins, so we aim to be close to one another.
She was grief-stricken she�s got a lot going on. Her Dad, my Dad/Uncle, had a heart attack last week and they had to do surgery on him. It was not looking good. He now has pneumonia.
Nicole is also having a lot of problems with Sam, smart-aleck extraordinairre, and was taking an emotional beating from her. Bendaha! We all know, because she confessed, that Sam has been having an affair. She admitted it. What she doesn�t admit is that she�s been having them for years. I never said anything because Dad would never believe anything like that about Sam because she walks on water and performs small miracles.
After listening to her talking about Dad and calming her back down, I reassured Nicole that it will get better. And I told her she was still a good girl even if she has left that (in my opinion, awful) Pentecostal church. I told her God doesn�t care what you wear, if you cut your hair, or if you wear makeup as long as you�re still womanly or, er, you. I told her I�m pretty sure Pentecostals don�t have a patent on God�s judgement and they shouldn�t be judging her anyway. Finally, I told her I don�t really think God cares what church you go to, or if you even go. As long as you are a good person, I say, live your life to the fullest. Naysayers be damned!
I say these things to her because the Pentecostal view of God and my view are very different. My view is a loving, forgiving, knowing God. An adoring dad is what I believe he is.
Theirs is a wrathful, judgmental, rigid, Pentecostal God. The kind that would strike you dead should you go asmirk! Gee, no wonder there�s so many ex-Pentecostals walking around. You figure, everything you do is bad. Everything that�s fun is bad. That includes wearing lip-gloss and concealer, listening to pop music, not wearing a girdle, and associating with anyone not in your church, those heathen. So these folks figure, I�ll deal with my punishment later. I just want to LIVE! Have fun! So they leave cult-like organized religions, which is not without its fair share of guilt and shame, because that�s what most church�s use to keep a membership. I�d rather have some guilt and shame though, and wear some Levi�s and mascara. I figure, God still loves me.
What�s more..I like the way I look most days. What�s wrong with an ego boost?
To me, it�s like parenting. I want my daughter to listen to me and respect me because I�m her mother, I�m good to her and I love her. I don�t want her to do that because she�s afraid of me. Because truth be told, when kids that are raised in fear, they do things because they fear the parent, and when they think the parent isn�t looking, they are likely to try to see what they can get away with. I know because I was raised with the meanest SOB ever; an authoritarian ex-marine and I still did things I knew that were going to cause me to get a beating. That�s because I wanted to be a kid. And join clubs, and do spelling competitions, and band. I wanted to go to school dances, and occasionally wear a dress to school. He wouldn�t let me do any of that because God knows kids can�t be trusted. Oh, yeah, dad. I�m gonna get pregnant at 14 while in the DARE club meeting with a teacher and 12 other kids. Sheesh.
I�d like to think I�ve raised my daughter to do what I ask even when I�m not looking. I told her that even if I don�t see, she knows she did it. And God sees. It�s still wrong to disobey even if you are all by yourself.
So, after I get off the phone with Nicole, Sam calls, sounding all confused and contrite. Now her calling me is as rare as the Pope coming to St. Louis. First, she doesn't have my number, Shenana (my little sis) must have given it to her. And also Sam has done some evil crap to me in the 16 years I�ve known her. It would take me a few days to think about it let alone write all out. So, let�s just say, she was definitely the evil stepmother.
Last time I saw Sam, I believe we had it out because she had went through my trash, read my mail, snuck into my email and sent some books back I had ordered because she thought I didn�t �need� them. I was 26 and had just left the Navy after five years. I had a 3-year-old. You get me now? I was an adult and she was treating me like I was a child.
I don�t remember exactly what smarmy thing she had said, but 16 years of evil stepmom history came bubbling up and I ended up throwing that Dr. Pepper at her head. It was bad. We�ve talked exactly 3 times since June of 2001.
So, she calls to let me know, in a sad voice, that my �dad� is very sick, which I already knew, but thanks. Then she proceeded to dump 16 years of bad-marriage baggage in my lap. Hey, a lady needs a warning here. But she don't care, she just starts talking and doesn't shut up until she needs to take a breath. Then, she proceeded to make excuses why she wasn�t happy with dad. I made the appropriate noises so she�d think I was listening.
In my best sugary voice I said, �Honey, you gotta do what makes you happy. While you still have some youth left, you should go. Dad�s not easy to live with and I truthfully wouldn�t want to live with him either.� The last statement was definitely the truth. Some of the things he was supposedly saying to her had his name all over it. I seem to remember he only had bad things to say about women.
I was playing the devil�s advocate, but I happen to be privy to the knowledge that this woman has ran off all of Dad�s kids. There are definitely two sides to every story. I really don�t care about either side since they deserve each other, but there�s something at stake here. My memento�s I had saved from my mom and Aunt Rachel, all my toys, and any evidence that I had ever lived there with Sam and dad pretty much disappeared when she got pissed. Into the trash my childhood went. And she not only egged him on when he was mad at us; she made up some stuff. Just to stir the pot because she was bored. Not to mention she threw away most of the only evidence that I ever had a childhood.
Well now, I have the chance to go to Tennessee, get in that house and get the very few things I have left of my beloved mother and Aunt Rachel. You mean, Sam won�t be there to convince Dad that since I haven�t bought my house yet I�m not mature enough to own what�s mine already? Darn. I�m there.
Hell, I�ll lie to her all day if that�s what it takes. I will have to ask forgiveness later.
As I was saying, after all that I was pretty tired. Emotionally I struggle with loving Dad and holding him responsible for the brainwashing, mental abuse, physical abuse, etc. He was the only Dad I ever knew; I left him at 15. And 13 years later I find my real Dad. I want to love Darwin, but he�s never let me sit down with him and hash out our differences. There�s not really a lot I can do, but with Sam leaving I have a chance of salvaging some sort of parental relationship.
I have a history. I had a childhood. I have roots. I just don�t see much evidence of it. It makes me feel pretty groundless. I�m not really close with any of my family, except my grandmother. I love them all. And yet, I feel tethered only to Jackie. She�s the first real thing in my life, you see that no one can take from me, or throw away. Without her around, I feel lost.
On another subject, the DNA army review board is marching on. Last night, there was a story on Channel Five about this guy that was exonerated after serving 18 years in jail for a rape he didn�t commit. The DNA says he did not do it. I was extremely happy for him and his family and yet sad that there was a lot he couldn�t regain ever again. That would cause me to be depressed. And when I think about it, the last 21 years have been the same for me in a way. Lost years. Years in Limbo. Years being sad, lonely, depressed and haunted. Smiling to everyone and crying on the inside. Appearing confident and yet inside scared. Feeling blessed but vaguely nagged by this feeling that it�s all going to fall apart and to not get used to the good times.
It�s not a state of mind. It�s my life. I have not yet come to a place where I can completely accept what�s happened to me. I cannot, even after 21 years, really believe my mom is really gone forever. There�s a little piece of me that hope�s somehow that someday she�ll pop up and say, �just kidding�! I know that�s not possible, but you wish for it.
I knew after watching that story that my time is coming soon. The DNA results from the case should be coming back soon. I�m scared. The first 3 months, I could be cool about it most of the time. But now that it� s been longer, I�m upset, mad, scared. I saw this man do horrible things to my mother, my baby sister, and my eyes were open when he attacked me. I have scars, a sleeping disorder, and another disorder.
I saw the circuit attorney on TV. She looks tired. I feel bad for her because I know no matter what she does, she will always be hurting someone. I don�t know if I could live with that. You either hurt the victim by reopening the case, or you hurt the perp�s family by giving them false hope. I wouldn�t want her job.
I want this all to be over. I can�t live with it for much longer. I need closure. I�m tired. I want to get on with my life. I don�t want to think about this all the time anymore.
I don�t want to be sad. I don�t want to have this private pain all the time. The kind of pain you carry with you and try to ignore and pretend you have a happy life. Sometimes, I can just be minding my own business and I see something that reminds me of my mom. Or I hear one of those songs she used to sing.
I smell coffee and remember how she used to drink it: cream and sugar.
I see red high heels and I see her in them.
A woman with long black hair, I look to see if it�s her.
Red lipstick, I wear mine with pride. Because momma can�t. Little things make her come back.
There�s a part of me that hasn�t grown up yet, who�s still al little girl. A little girl with no mom, no dad, and a little sister with a scar on her throat from being cut.
There�s a part of me who�s 12 and is sad because the happy part of my life is over and my new mom, my Aunt Rachel, is dead.
There�s a 12-year-old with an obsessive-compulsive disorder, but everyone just thinks she�s weird.
There�s a part of me that�s 13 and wants to die because my dad hurts me in every conceivable way and I�m tired of hurting on the inside.
There�s a 15-year-old who runs away from the only house she�s ever known because she�s tired of being beaten.
There�s a 16-year-old runaway looking for a warm place to stay.
There�s a 16-year-old who has finally gotten what she wants, a family, but is afraid to be happy. So, she pushes them away.
There�s an 18-year-old that wants to give the whole world the finger.
And then, there�s me now. And by the way, I'm obviously giving myself a pity party. I've earned it. It's the path to healing...I'm the person who�s trying to resolve all of this in my head so that I can have a normal life with my daughter. I need to work past these things. It�s not that this is something you can ignore. It�s something you need to come to peace with.
The resounding feeling in my life is that I�ve been abandoned or unwanted. That I�m not good enough. I can�t look to a man or a job to help me with this.
This is something I believe that only therapy can resolve. I haven�t grown up yet. It�s that simple.
I would like very much to be a more positive and successful person. I used to be. I�d like to go back to the time before all the DNA stuff started. I liked myself. Life was simple. Jackie and I were happy as two pigs in muck together, even if I did have a sleep disorder. I was doing as well as I knew how.
But when the DNA thing started, my life just got crazy. It became something I didn�t recognize anymore. I became unsure, unhappy and unbearable. I don� t like who I�ve become.
Those of you that love me, please stick around. Please be stubborn. Please call me. Sometimes I hide and hermit. Sometimes I beg off and say that I�m busy or tired. But if you haven�t seen me in a while, tell me you�ve got food. That usually works. I�ll let you in. *****************************************************************************
Hey, I know one place that�s hotter than St. Louis and that�s good ole Hades. I mean, Hell.
I don�t think it�s natural to be 100 degrees. Jackie had a really awful headache yesterday. The worse the air quality, the worse her headache. Maybe one more day of this torture and we might get a break.
I ordered a really nice air purifier from www.overstock.com to spare my little diva from inside headaches too. Momma loves you, baby.
I ordered it Monday morning and it shipped Monday afternoon. Yeah baby. I got it because I�m convinced there is mold or something in my apartment and have come to the conclusion that all the cleaning I�m doing may not be helping us keep from getting colds. Plus we have gerbils and two rats. Who knows if those are adding to allergy misery? So, we do a clean sweep of mold, dust, pollen, dander and any other bad juju with this bad little baby..the bad bad purifier.
By the way, I still have no hairstyle. Does anyone know of a really good salon that can do damage control? Help! My hair has no flava! You know, my (adopted) ma lied to me. She said, if you are in a pinch, go to Regis to get a haircut, but you can not go wrong with JcPenney Salon. They will fix you up right!
Well, how come I got a mushroom? How come I look like I should be wearing pigtails, a red pinafore and some black patent Mary Jane�s? There oughta be a law against bad hairdressers. I�m embarrassed and I don�t really want to go out of my house. I still hate my hair. And, I�m considering that the DC person may have to cut off even more to make this crap look presentable. I�m mad. My hair was almost to my butt. It was dark, very wavy and chocalate-y colored. It was pretty. But NOOO, I had to go get it cut when I was hot. And I just HAD to end up with a hairperson on roofies to cut mine.
But the worse part is, I�ve always been complimented on my hair. They�ve always told me I had beautiful hair. I always get compliments on it. Now, I got frizz. Is it possible a cut can bring out the worst in your hair?
It looks like I got electrocuted or something. My hair is no longer a glorious dark mane..it is, a shadow of what it used to be. I used to get, �Oh, why are you wearing your hair up? It looks so pretty down!� Now I get, �Uh, it will grow out��.
I am pissed.
I have to make a confession. Salsalita, I�m am an awful friend. I pretended yesterday that I had your presents for a long time. The truth is, Mama, that I left work early yesterday and went to get you what I had in mind.
But, I did forget tissue paper. And every place that sold it by my house had loads of traffic. That is why I wrapped everything in newspaper. Your birthday newspaper. I�d like to pretend it was a quirky thing to do, but it was desperation that made me wrap your stuff in newspaper.
However, I hope you did like everything I got you. Especially that sexy purple bathing cap. Once, I saw Jerry Lewis in one of those. I was little; it was one of those old movies. He was doing one of his female impersonations.
I know you were impressed yesterday morning at 06:30 when I did my �it�s your birfday� dance right there in the street in front of your house. I also know you loved it when I called to sing, �happy birfday� on the phone.
I know I sound like Christina Aguilara. You don�t have to tell me.
12:36 p.m. - 2003-08-26
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
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