The love I needed and never got is now the love my daughter is looking for…. I so tried to not let the cycle continue.

I think the love I longed for the most growing up was that of a father. When my Dad ( Scott) disappeared I looked for a father in every man that came home with my Mom. A few now I can only remember faces, some still have names to the faces, and their are those I have no memory of but pictures galore of me in their arms. The love I was searching for was unconditional. You know the kind where you can fuck up and still be loved. The kind where the size of your mistake or the depth of your flaws make no difference. The love that can only come from a parent. The kind of love that wraps you up and consumes you. I guess I am speaking as if I know what that love feels like but I don’t. The efforts I made to feel it, to gain it were never successful. I waited at the door for Scott, by the phone waiting for it to ring. It rarely did. I chose to go alone to visits when he did show so I didn’t have to share his attention with anyone else. It was so lonely after awhile sitting in a movie theater with him snoring. Sitting at a bar him flirty with anything skinny with tits. It did not matter what I said or did. What fabricated story I had of some glorious accomplishment. He only listened and engaged if I was to speak badly of my mom. His anger for her trumped any love for me is exactly how I felt. I was never worthy of his love. When Rik came around I had just been raped. By a bf of my mom’s that I only remember by his first name ” Brian”. My mom and him split and she meet Rik what felt like rather quickly as a child. I honestly really couldn’t tell you the actually story for that or time gap. I know that emotionally I was going through more than I could bare alone. The day that it happened my mom was stranded on road with some car trouble and it was my fault as I was to busy being raped to answer her call. I lied and said I had gone to his house. I left out him being at ours and taking me. I left out how my panties were soaked in blood from the events that had happened. I took her punishment and screams and I cried to myself. When Rik came I wanted him to prove he wasn’t the rest. Prove that a unruly teen was worthy of his love. I acted out for his love. I acted out of the move. I acted out totally unable to process the emotions I was dealing with. In return I made myself hard to love. I ran away seeking love elsewhere….. 16 and Rik and my mom are still together….. Maybe he will love me he has stuck around through some shit right… They had put me in private school one that Rik attended. I was no longer living at home and just wanted to make him proud. Get his attention. I got a job at the dq in niles. It was owned by a man on the school board. He paid me an additional 50 cents a hour on my tuition. I lived in south bend and carpooled to st joe. Every morning I got up at 4 am and I went to this gas station where I prayed like hell my ride would show. On the days she didn’t I sat at a gas station from 4 am to 4pm alone in south bend! AS a CHILD! I did that trying to make Rik notice, make him proud. let me come home. No one cared. I spent my entire check from work on the carpool to get to school. I rarely even had a lunch to eat at school. No one noticed, no one cared, my efforts to make them proud in any positive form went totally unnoticed. I eventually gave it all up. Later getting my ged with a 3 month old. Even later as and adult I tried again to make Rik proud with my education status. I went to college late in life, I enrolled and passed tons of classes by with my placement testing. ( not bad for freshmen drop out) I worked my ass of and took a full 18 credits per semester. I called my dad (rik) constantly with updates of grades and presentations. I screenshot him scores and results. I reached and reached for his attention, time and love. Let me tell you as an adult to reach so desperately and not achieve it leaves you feeling pathetic! I remember in a fight Chuck telling me that Rik didn’t give a fuck about my grades and was probably tired of me calling him from school everyday. I remember arguing and saying he was wrong. I stopped calling Rik that day to prove he would call me. HE didn’t ever call. It was almost graduation time and I had always asked Rik to buy me this brick for the graduation one that had something cute about a mom of 8 did this anyone can. My name and my grad year. He told me if I pulled it off he would do it for me. I sent him the link and everything when I knew I was graduating. I had this whole conversation with myself as to how many times I would remind him before I was begging him to be there again. Something I did not want to do at all. I decided 10 that was it just 10 reminders and count downs to when he couldn’t purchase any longer and when I would graduate. After that I would let him decide my worth essentially. After 10 reminders I went silent. I of course posted on facebook daily reminders to the world of when this mom would walk with her hat on. Chuck knew they wouldn’t get me that brick no one would. He had purchased it long before I had been let down but left it a surprise. I wish he hadn’t actually though seeing the brick and knowing that my family didn’t do it. That they never even went to see theirs daughters name. It was more painful then no brick at all. No one showed when I graduated. Later they said they didn’t know. I didn’t remind enough. Thing was I just wasn’t important enough. As an adult I stayed in a severely abusive relationship because I knew Rik wanted that. HE loved Chuck thought he was just the greatest. They had many talks over me being crazy and Rik not knowing how Chuck could do it. In fact Rik gave Chuck a truck telling him never to put in my name. In the garage that day Rik and Chuck had a conversation that I got third party about him being a good man and staying with me. How Rik couldn’t believe he had. I wondered how such a thing could be said about a man that beat me so badly. I wondered if Rik really thought that was all I was worth. Wasn’t even 2 months that the truck had breaks go out and Chuck drove it to scrap yard for a bag. Leaving the kids with no way to get to the grocery store. Karma I guess the truck crushed because I could do nothing to stop it cause it was me that Rik thought to little of it was me he thought would be in line at the scrap yard. It was me with the tears and the cuts down my leg to the words Chuck spewed of his conversation with Rik that day.

I remember Chuck saying Rik doesn't really like you much does he. The next year I begged for Christmas time with him for him to be angry that I was making it seem like he wouldn't make time for us. He never did make that time. I never seen him a single holiday since. He never called there was never a Christmas card in the mail. I was just forgotten. As I knew I would be. I still keep reaching of course. Jade she is exactly the same. She goes through all the same emotions with Chuck and keith. Now Marc stepping in and he feels frustrated as he sees her playing both sides. Acting out, being defiant. I see and hear her after she has done something to make Marc proud. She too trys in school for him as I did for Rik. She too gets excited for something as simple as a hug. She wants to see he will love her unconditional. She wants to see what she is worth to him. I know what a bumpy hard road it will be for him to show her he loves her. I know how bumpy it will be for her to believe it. I am so grateful for all I felt as a child and all I endured because I can so easily help her and him learn and understand each other. I can whisper in his ear an accomplishment she has achieved and he will go give her the attention she longs for from it.

The Flashback Memory ( Train)

Today as we were driving down the the beach to gaze at the water we noticed that there was a train slowly passing through. The speed in itself instantly took me back in time.  I am 13 years old. Living in Bridgman Michigan right next to the Cook Nuclear plant. I hated everything about my home. I was just moved from where I wanted to be and it never settled well. I had next to no relationship with my mother. She was clearly the enemy in my mind. I had one friend that I was very close too! She was having her own struggles at home as well. Both thought that we ourselves could do far better without their help. We decided one night that we would run away. We started at my house. We packed my things just one small bag is all I took. I left a note saying that I was going to go stay at her house. We walked to her house from mine. Her house was in town more and it was a two story house unlike my one story. Her room was in the second story we planned our escape and the life we would make for ourselves that night smoking a joint out her second story window. Her mom was drunk that night and her dad asleep. It was easy to sneak a $20 bill out of her dad’s wallet and just stroll out the front door. We left a note there as well saying we were at my house. Speaking nothing that we were running away. We decided that the way not to be caught was to walk the railroad tracks. We had literally no destination in place at all. Walking seemed endless. Suddenly we heard the whistling and howling of a train. In my mind it sounded just feet behind me and I thought it was fast moving freight train. None of which was true of course. We began screaming yelling and running. What the hell else is there to do when there is a TRAIN chasing you! On each side of the tracks was a very steep. The sides were large chunky rocks and at the bottom of the steep rock sides were trees and woods. It was pitch black and I am not sure how we even seen to get out of the way at all. In my sprint to escape that train that was really inching towards me rather than barrelling I fell crashing knees first into the unforgiving rocks. I rolled all the way into the trees below tearing my jeans from the anklet straight to the crotch. I cried I laughed and then I watched the train creep by. It was slow enough we could have easily jumped on it but we didn’t. I remember stopping at the roller rink and using the pay phone next door to find out where our ultimate destination would be. Watervliet was the spot. We eventually made it there our 20 dollars running out by day two. We slept on benches and in parks. We barely ate anything. Days and days passed just kinda lingering in town. Our parents at some point realizing we weren’t at the other’s homes. They called the cops. I remember thinking that no one was looking for us. It was quite some time before the police stop us. We lie about our names at first just to be caught in the lie and taken to the station. My first ever ride in a cop car in fact. The tears flowed as I thought life on park benches was far better then what I had came from. I begged the officer to put me in jail incarcerate me was my plea. It went unheard though as the only thing the officer did was return me to my mother. I didn’t’ even want to face her. My friend and I went through more then I could ever blog while we were on the run. At 13 I had this harsh reality of the world. I am glad my kids have no experience of this at all.

Why I no longer pick up the paint brush that brought me so much comfort.

I was living in my Grandma Dee’s home. Pregnant with my first child, already thrown out of the father of my child’s home, and a teenager. My Grandmother had just remarried. She was living in a huge home in Three Oaks. Her and her husband opened their doors for me and I had a large room and a decent life. I rarely left my room outside of the daily trips to the post office to buy stamps and mail letters to my son’s father. I wrote him constantly during that pregnancy. I stayed in my room. I didn’t eat as I was sick the entire time. I drank milk by the gallons but I bought my own as I had food stamps and wic way back then. I coped with my life with painting those days. I had mass amounts of paints I would even volunteer at the thrift store up town for credits there for painting and crafting supplies. It was just my passion. No one in my life wanted me to keep my baby. I mean NO ONE.  Abortion, adoption, whatever the opinion was it was absolutely not me parenting. I was on my own. I was fine with that though I had made my peace with it. I was in every parenting class known to man earning points and things I needed for my baby. Allen had it all!!!! So there is no way I had ever even considered another option for him. One day I came home to my grandma in my room. I hadn’t been gone long just walked to the post office a few blocks up and back. When I got to the top of the stairs I could see her in my trash can. She was fumbling with the garbage from my painting mess and I wasn’t sure why. Entering the room startled her and she was irate in an instant. She was screaming ” I caught you!”. I honestly had not a clue what the hell she was talking about.” I knew you didn’t want him. You aborted that baby. Right here in my house.” Her screams were ludicrous to me. Has she been drinking? My grandma didn’t drink but I truly just had no idea what on earth was going on in the moment. Before I knew it she had slapped me and I pushed her back she tumbled and we both ended up on the ground. Me with her clear hand print on my face. She then called 911! “My granddaughter has given herself an abortion with a coat hanger. I stopped her and she pushed me down. ” Oh my God at this point i realize she is bat shit and I should go. I get to the front door and the officer is already there. Her hand print still very clear across my face. She flies down the stairs to give her story first. I sit myself down on the porch trying to not stress through my high risk pregnancy.  I had been on bed rest the entire time. I couldn’t eat much and lived off milk and carnation breakfast drinks. The officer came to me next. He was holding the hanger. It was evidence. I was baffled. I had to go to the hospital and prove my story. I could have pressed charges as grandma admitted being angry at my actions and hitting me. I at the hospital was told the stress made it time to induce and was set to deliver the very baby I was said to have aborted the very next day. I moved back home to never have a relationship with my grandma again. I have seen her a few times but never had a bond at all since. I do my best to avoid her. I can’t move on from it no matter how hard I try. The hanger was simply covered in the red paint I had used it to stir and unclog one of my paints. The exam in my head created an issue that lead to my preterm delivery being needed. My son being vacuumed for 36 mins.  I threw all my paint supplies away that day and never touched a paint brush again. 

Hard To Love

I meet a lady once. She lived in the opposite side of a duplex I was residing with my first husband. I was all of 18 years old. She had a young daughter and I had went to be the friendly neighbor and introduce myself. To my surprise when she answered my knock at the door she instantly wept and wrapped me in her arms. I had no recollection of her at all. She had been a roommate to my mother when I was the age my kids were then. (toddler years) She told me horrific childhood stories of her and my mother’s drug habits. Of the horrible choices that they had made. A story of me drawing on the walls and the beating I had gotten for it. How my eyelashes full of tears had tugged at her heart strings that day. I have no idea how much of it is true. I clearly have blocked out many memories because I don’t remember living with my mom much at all. I always remember being at some family members and even those are few and foggy until into teenage years and after moving out. I went to my mom and asked who this girl was and if the stories had any truth. She gave no answers. The girl’s daughter tried hard to share many memories of us and how our mothers were. I couldn’t even remember her. I wanted so badly to fill in the blanks but my mother offered none of the puzzle pieces that she held. Pretty much the only one who would speak to me of those days was my Grandma Dee and I could never decyfer her fables from facts. I tell my kids openly the mistakes I made drinking and losing them and not having the income I needed to provide and just not getting my shit together. I answer every single question honest and openly. I thank my mom for that really for the bond I have built with my kids is because of the one I lacked with her. I share my mistakes so that they can learn from them. So I can show them that I am human and will screw up as they will too as a parent as a child as a human…. We love each other even when we are hard to love. We give forgiveness and love through the mistakes. I think I hold anger for what I don’t know. For answers I wasn’t given. I wish I could let go. Forgiving would be far better for my heart…. It’s just I don’t think she even feels remorse. There I go again another excuse for why I can’t do something. Clearly she is not in control over my ability to forgive I am. I can’t ever imagine my kids being to hard to love. I always have felt to hard to love by everyone but them. I thought that the reason I wasn’t for them was that I taught them to love even through the hard. By sharing it with them and not pretending it wasn’t there. No brushing it under the rug in this family. I didn’t have custody because I wasn’t the best mom I could be. It’s a hard mistake to make and one I shall never make again.

The Link Crisis Center

At 14 years old I was residing with my mother and stepfather. My mom finally had the tools she needed to be the parent she had always wanted to be. She was no longer alone. She no longer feared evictions and we stopped moving and planted roots. The problem being I already felt abandoned and the only people I had developed relationships with they were taking me away from. The phone bills I created were massive. I wanted so badly to go back to the life we had left. I resented my little brother as he seemed to have so much more love than I was able to gain. He was never in the trouble that I was in. He didn’t have to act out for time or attention. The begun to lock the phone away from me. Meaning now I had no one. I couldn’t hold a conversation with my mother that didn’t spin into a angry dispute. I couldn’t forgive what I was holding inside. I made calls myself to child protective services, the link crisis center and anyone who would listen and help me escape. I believe even the cops came when I checked myself into the crisis center. I can’t remember the finer details anymore. I remember being asked over and over are you sure this is what you want? You want to check yourself in? You don’t want to be home with your family? I was certain any life outside those four walls were better than in them. So off I went to St joe where the building was. Inside there were many other teenagers scattered about. None of them had sent themselves to the hell I had though. I wanted to stay on the bed I had been assigned but that wasn’t allowed. The room’s had 8-10 bunks in them and there was a community room with a pool table and some games and television. They held group therapies and cps came to speak to me. To be honest it really wasn’t to bad until it was time to eat. I just couldn’t bring myself to put a single bite in my mouth. It was a HUGE deal for them me not eating. They were ready to diagnose me with a eating disorder by day two. Thinking I was on some sort of strike. It was really nothing of the sort. I simply had food issues. Not weight issues not body image issues. It was the food itself the problem. It was how I was in control and at that age the only thing in my power to control. I became extremely picky I had issues with textures and food touching. The issues were very deep rooted. They begun making me sit at the same table I had fought to get away from. It opened floodgates of memories. I just couldn’t understand why everyone wanted me to sit at a table for my entire life. Why must they waste my time? It was my choice to eat I couldn’t understand why everyone felt the need to force it. Soon everything was dictated by the food issues. My restrictions racked up because if I couldn’t follow the rules on food then I couldn’t do anything but be made to stare at the food. I ran here for help and now I wanted nothing more then to run again. I can’t even remember now how long I was there. I can’t remember how I left or where I went from there. I can’t remember the people I meet I can remember the kitchen and dining area like the back of my hand. I can remember every single meal I was made to sit and stare at. I can remember the times they lifted the food to my mouth for me to clamp it shut and have no part in it. As a child how did no one reach out. How was I the one punished for not eating? The food issues have spilled into my adult life. Looking at a menu is overwhelming. I love to cook but hate to try what I cook. I sometimes gag while chewing thinking of someone winning by me swallowing it. Like I have given up the only control I ever had. Oh how silly this must sound. I am so damaged.