2010 has been a year of firsts.
I feel like, at the tender age of 29 and two and a half months, I am finally, for the first time living my life as me.
See, for my entire life I've been a caretaker. All my heart wants (and I remember this from being very young) is to be a part of something. I want to be in a family. I want to know that I matter and that those around me are being cared for. Now I realize these aren't strange ideals...but to me, it's always been top priority.
My parents got divorced when I was 11. I was actually not upset by the split--they were a horrible couple, fought all the time, and things were a lot quieter when they divorced. So, on the surface it was a good thing. But through their separation some really dark, insidious things crept in to fill the void of having a two-parent support system at home. My mom blamed everything wrong in the world on my dad. She would ask me if I remembered the time he called her a bitch out in public. Or the time he hit her at the Mexican restaurant we always went to. And the honest answer is: no. I do not remember any of that. I didn't then and I don't now. I'm fairly certain it's because it didn't happen. I feel like I was used as a pawn in her emotional manipulation games. Wow. Up until 2 months ago, I never, ever would have said that. But it's a time of firsts, and I shall now call a spade a spade.
I love my mom. She's raised me to the best of her abilities and has literally given me everything I could have ever wanted, needed, asked for or thought about. My needs have always come first...and I wouldn't trade that for anything. But there was a price for all that love and dedication.
At first it was making my dad the villain. Then it became: my dad didn't exist. She refused to mention him or acknowledge his existence. I then started to feel bad wanting to spend time with him--so I stopped doing that too, just so she would be happy. I've realized that my relationship with my mom, somewhere along the road, became very codependent and fairly unhealthy. We lived together for 27 of my 29 years. This excludes the 4 years of college dorm life, and the two years not living together--one was spent in Ireland and the other was back in 2006 when my mom first decided she wanted to live with my older sister in Missouri. So I moved closer to my publishing job, got a roommate with a coworker and thought I was starting my adult life then.
But no. My mom moved back to Georgia 3 months later and I was back in her web of trying to please her. I have two half-sisters. They share a dad (my mom's first husband) and then me. My oldest sister is 13 years older than I and my middle sister is 9 years my senior. I don't ever remember living in the same house with my older sister. She moved out when she was 17, thus making me 4. I lived with my other sister until at the age of 18 she moved out--but again I was only 9. That's not a lot of lasting-memory-making years together.
Both of them moving out I think my mom saw as abandonment and I had to be the perfect child to earn my love...so I decided that I wouldn't abandon our mother. I felt a Japanese-esque sense of gravitas and responsibility. I often thought, "I can't leave my parent on her own. I must attend to her."
So we lived together. When I wasn't working, I was spending time with her. And out of deference and respect, I kept my wants and needs to myself. It's a theme I see in my life, not just at home. I guess it comes from a feeling of not feeling good enough to ask for what I want. I don't see that I deserve it. I just need to keep my head down, make sure everyone else is happy and that should be good enough.
Most people see me as being loud and brash and the life of the party--and that for sure is one aspect of being me. The other is an extreme people-pleaser. I bite my lip for the good of others. It's not totally a bad thing. But I realized this past summer it was starting to be a very bad thing in regards to my mom.
I always took the second shower so she would have the most hot water. If we were in the living room, we were watching what she wanted. We only went out to eat where she wanted. I never invited people over for fear of disturbing her (and she'd usually be drunk...but more on that later). I didn't allow myself to entertain the idea of dating...see, because dating meant that I was looking for something more--and I wanted her to think she was enough for me. I was raised thinking that both of my sisters were screw-ups and so I had to be perfect so she wouldn't be let down. A lot of those "screw-ups" included boys for my sisters...a baby given up for adoption and an abortion in the family really taints the dating waters. It always made sense to me...but just recently I've fully internalized the actual truth:
Sure, my sisters made some poor-ish decisions when in high school. But both of them got married straight out of high school and are STILL happily married to those guys 20 and 22 years later. What kind of screw-ups stay married for that long?
Alas, I'm tired of talking about the less than ideal things...for my road to 30 really is looking pretty great.
God brings us to things and places at the perfect time and all within the capacity to handle them. Back in August, my middle sister and I had to take my mom to the hospital. Heart attack. Blood clot in the heart. Heart failure AND congestive heart failure (yes, they are separate ailments apparently). We found out later there were a series of strokes in there too. She was in the hospital a couple of weeks. Then was shipped off the rehab (the affinity for wine made her heart stop...rehab was a good option).
I then was able to see our dysfunction in the light of day: my sisters weren't villains. They rushed out of what they were doing (one driving 10 hours from MO), and stayed. They held my hand. They wiped my tears when I cried. And they apologized. They apologized because they didn't realize that I had put my life completely on hold to "take care" of our mom. They vowed to make things right. So I stood up for myself. I said I couldn't do it anymore. I needed a break.
Mom got out of rehab and went to stay with my middle sister for a while. Then we sisters decided she needed 24-hour supervision. So off to MO she went. And I made plans to move to Midtown Atlanta--a forever dream, but it could never be realized because my mom didn't want to live in the city. It's too loud. There's too much traffic. It's not safe.
Well, I gots myself an apartment. I'm living in this man's house where I have the bottom left of the house, he has the bottom right and a couple of people live upstairs. We share a foyer...but other than that: I'm on my own! I sleep in when I want to. I listen to whatever music, at whatever volume my heart desires. I watch what I want, when I want (and it never includes local news). I stay out until all hours. I'm able to work as much as I want without feeling guilty.
I moved in 2 months ago...and just really started unpacking last night. Why? Because I can. I'm finally in charge of my own life...and I needed some time to just live with boxes and a mess to feel that control. I put most of my kitchen together last night...how I wanted it. There's food in the fridge that I want. I don't feel guilty for having 4 different tubs of ice cream in the freezer. I've also realized that now that ice cream isn't a taboo food that should be hidden (because that's be honest, I'm fat, I have some food issues and having hidden food was always one of them), I don't really want it or eat it that much. But I'm keeping them there because I can.
I joined a dating website that praises fat girls (WAY more on that later). I'm tired of feeling bad about what I look like and in part who I am. I'm tired of being on dating sites where I have to be sheepish about my size and only post certain photos that minimize it. And I'm going to be bold and make this statement: joining this site is one of the best decisions I've ever made. I'm tired of being single and longing for marriage and a family--yet not doing anything about it. And so now I've got boys emailing me left and right. There may or may not have even been an incident involving a webcam (more on that later...probably late at night after I've had a few drinks). And there's a boy emailing me that is slowly, slowly, slowly winning me over.
That's enough for now. It's time for a shower and meeting up with my dear friend from 2nd grade for a burger, some totchos and good, good conversation at The Vortex.
More later, my blogosphere. I've got so much that needs to be documented.
It might be freezing out, but the sun is shining and I plan on making the best of it!
