My One and Only

"You live your life by a man..." Text from daughter 12/2/09.  Painful and some bit of truth...

Watch the movie with the same title as today's blog and know my pain.  I had what I felt an excellent childhood.  My life spiraled into hell's front door upon becoming a teenager and my mother moved in with that man (stepfather).  She fell in love?  I don't know, we never talk about him anymore.  (Ack just got a gutful of habitual momentum - needs less salt.)  I am sure she intended that we would be taken care of and she was happy.  She was full of hope!

I remember what it was like to be full of hope.  Someone videotaped my arrival to what I thought was "my dream home".  A couple of year's later as the earth uprooted my heart, I saw that tape.  My face shown god's glory and my eyes joyously twinkled. I never wanted to see that tape again.  The hurt was raw as I saw my ignorant self banking on foolish ventures.  My intentions were to escape my troubles and to keep my children from harm.  Not only keep them from harm but I wanted to lavish their little lives with the spoils of society.  I couldn't afford to cater to their whims and usually I was living beyond my means.  I sought partners to help me attain this goal but I wanted my partners to stay away from the care and discipline of my children.  They all too readily obliged, watching with  binoculars at the curious spectacle.  I thought I was protecting them from wrath and betrayal, the likes of which I suffered.  My partners were unable to commit to the family I wanted because I didn't grant them full control. 

One bad dad after another, breaking my heart and my children's spirit, leads me to my culmination.  My vulnerbility to believe things will get better, and my ability to accept my reality just a little too late, brought about more suffering than if I would have just allowed myself to feel that fear and do the best with what I had.  The most distasteful bite of my humble pie is knowing that I have come full circle.  At the mercy of my young teacher, she is right.  How do I find the courage to plead forgiveness from my daughter and myself?

Alas, tonight a margarita (I found a few remaining shots - YES!) with Tres Generaciones tequila anejo (dos mia) hold the salt (I have had enough bitters for the day) and perhaps my Rosie ( her mission is to mediate the humans - by allowing them to run their fingers though her dust ridden hair for a certain time allotment lest they get the claw) will sit in my lap to comfort me...