When my daughter was here to celebrate her graduation, cards with money and checks and good wishes were passed to her as we all sat around our living room. What came out of my mouth was more of a prayer that she wouldn't have to pay for early mistakes for the rest of her life, the way I have. I said, "Don't let some man steal your life away from you." I could feel embarrassment and surprise around the room. I could feel my kids thinking,"typical of Mom to blurt out such a thing."
I think she has internalized, along the way, that she doesn't want to be like me: full of regrets.
I can't say, any more, that there is anyone else to blame.
I did grow up with a partially empty heart and that is a major ingredient in the way I saw the world and myself. This was an empty place that I didn't really know existed until much later in life. Sadness and anger were part of what I knew as "normal". I was normal.
As a kid and teenager I thought our family would be perfect if my father were nicer; and it would have, but I want to talk about the reality. I would see nice, loving, protective fathers in Disney movies and while I wished with all my heart I had a father like that, the louder thought was, "Who's going to buy a load of crap like that?!" When my friend's fathers treated me nicely and were loving with their families, I thought they were probably just being on their good behavior because they had company. I always viewed them with suspicion.
Selfish, Self Centered Little Brats - that is what I remember him calling the three of us. I've always believed that I was the worst one, I'm sure I was. My older brother always seemed innocent and shy, to me, and my younger sister was good humored and sweet. She was the best sister I can imagine to grow up with. I would have given my life, without a thought, to save hers. She made every thing she told seem funny. I was dreadfully shy, so I depended on her to find the new kids to play with whenever we moved to a new place. My daughter is fearless like that too. She would be out knocking on doors looking for the kids, sure that more fun was waiting with each new child she found.
I could get side tracked for days here, and I will come back to those tracks in future essays, but there was something specific I wanted to address, and that had to do with feeling like an incomplete person. I was not sure that I was lovable. I always wanted my children to know they had two parents that loved them and would treat them with respect and kindness, so they would not have that feeling, that they were incomplete without a partner to fill the void. I want them to take a partner out of the joy they feel in their companionship and love. Not as the drug that will dull their pain.
Happy Birthday brother dear!
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