"Naked"

I still hide today.  From my family, my husband, my friends.  I only tell my husband what he wants to hear, for the most part.  When things are tough on me, I can't tell him.  Him and I have never been emotionally connected like that.  I don't think he truly knew how much baggage I had when he got into all this, even though I told him.  I may not have gone into detail, but I told him my whole family is crazy and on one drug or another.  He knew bad things by men had happened to me, he knew I gave a child up for adoption.  I am pretty damn honest, and for that, I guess I speak mainly of my past, rather than my present.  No one ever knows how I feel now.  Just how I felt.  I know my pain or my shit causes people discomfort.  I know I have a lot, I mean a lot all wrapped into one.  But I am pretty good at putting that out there.  What I am also great at, is showing how strong I am.  How much I can handle this.  How I don't need your help or support.  You don't see me cry on the way to work or when I am sleeping.  In the shower where I lay and just try to stop thinking about whatever it is going on.  I do this to myself.  I tell certain people certain things for their benefit or because I can't deal with the judgement that one person has for me.  I am all for you telling me when I am wrong or how I need to chin up, but, I am not willing to listen to you tell me what I should do or what you think is best for me.  Since no one can show me they will truly love me wholeheartedly for me, I show certain people certain pieces.  It is how I cope.  It is how I continue to look at the bright side through all this shit that is handed to me and the shit that I am dealt and the shit I am willing to take at the moment.  No one else gets to choose this but me, yet because everyone feels they have the right to tell me what I should do with it all, I have the right to choose who I tell and how.  Here, on this blog, is where I will be pure.  Here is where I will poor my truth, here is where I will tell all.  People can read and people can comment, but here, I can lay it all out and I can then choose what I will read in response and what I will ignore.  Everyone needs a true out, but like most, we hide certain things because we just need to vent or cry or whatever without your opinion.  If we feel we cannot get that when we need it, we will tell what we need to, to get by, and just hide the rest.  The hard part is, the parts we hide for whatever reason, that builds up and one day you want to explode.  I am great at covering up.  I really am.  I hate that I am, and I hate that I am not making millions on screen because, as sad as it is to me, I can fool you all.  I hate that I have such control over my emotions.  I hate that I seriously can make someone know nothing what-so-ever is going on or wrong with me when I am dying inside.  I grew up hiding secrets.  Everyone thought I was the happiest person they knew.  My mom was a drug addict and dealer.  I was not to tell anyone of her lifestyle.  I say things you see in movies for those who don't know.  For example, the movie CASINO, I cannot watch that.  The only reason is because this child actor possibly learned about drugs seeing Sharon Stone do a line (fake I know) off glass while getting paid....that was my life.  For that scene alone, I can never watch that movie again.  As for my family, to be honest, I am not sure who knows what about me or my up-bringing.  I mean I know the ones who partied with my mom and I know the ones that I have told certain things to, but I am not sure if those people blabbed or not.  You never know who you can trust and there are people I know I feel I can, but even they have turned out to say something or break the trust in one way.  For the most part, I bottle the actual hurt up.  I am not sure why.  See, I want to tell my stories, I want the possibility of even helping just one person, if that can happen, but I am never completely true in the moment.  I don't know why.  I hate that I don't know why.  I am not sure if it is because it is what I am used to or if I am just plain scared.  I feel like I am not scared, but I feel like blaming it on what I am used to is a cop-out.  Thoughts???  Like anyone reads this....see that is the self pity I have talking there.  As of right now, I know 2 close people who read this, I pray knowing this does not alter what I want to write and I pray it does not make them judge me or look at me differently than they do now.  I do need this for me.  I need to be completely open and "naked".  One day it would be nice to hear something in response, but for now, this is good therapy for me and a great outlook as always that one day my pain or joy may possibly help someone else.  I am a big believer on hope, you need it to survive,  I really wish I could be completely naked to just one true person.  I guess for now, I will have to accept being naked to the world (even though no one is listening :)  )

Sweet Dream.

Homecoming Court

My senior year I was part of the homecoming court.  I was so shocked.  I was not a nerd, but I was by no means popular.  I knew most all crowds in school but I was not really a part of once particular group.  I am happy about that.  But it turns out the original 20 candidates for the homecoming court are selected by teachers.  So, when I hear that, being on the list of 20 was not that shocking.  A lot of teachers liked me.  What was shocking was when I remained one of the top 5.  That is up to the students, so I was not expecting them to vote me as one of the 5.  I was not sure about all this.  In fact the first I heard that I was part of the 20 I wanted to have myself removed.  See I was a very angry girl towards my mom.  My mom always wanted me to be in Cheerleading and on the Homecoming Court.  So, when I first heard this news, all I wanted was to have nothing to do with it as it would give my mom so much joy.  I know, I was a teenager.  We all have issues with our parents….LOL  I actually left my classroom when the announcement was made because I had such conflicting feelings about being on the court.  But when I found out the 20 were picked my the teachers and the students will vote for the top five and ultimately the Homecoming Queen, I was OK with hanging around in the court for a week.  I seriously did not think the students were going to keep me.  Otherwise, I would have dropped out.  Then when the actual Homecoming Court was announced and my name was still on there, I actually was really upset.  I really had no desire to be on the court.  But I did.  My boyfriend at the time told me it was an honor and I should be happy.  So, I worked on that.  We all knew who was going to win and we were all OK with it.  They make you take a picture the morning of the Homecoming Game as the queen with all the other nominee’s around you.  So, we took 5 pictures with each of us as the queen.   They announce the winner at the Homecoming Football game, during halftime.  That might have been the only Football game I attended my whole time at High School.  Probably not, but I did not go to many J   All the women on the Homecoming court was to be walked up with their father.  That was another thing I was not so sure of.  See, the part where my dad is a part of the homecoming court, that made me actually really happy when I found that out (see, I am such a daddy’s girl).  But my dad is ALWAYS late to everything, so I was nervous about that. My dad was late on getting his tux fitted.  First scare.  My dad was to be there at either 7 or 7:30.  I cannot really remember.  What I do remember is that I told my dad he had to be there actually 30 minutes before he really needed to be there in hopes that he would not be late.  Well, he made it just in time to walk me up, but pictures were already taken with the girls and their dad.  So while each girl on the court got their picture taken all dressed up with their dad’s all snazzy in their tuxes, I had my picture taken with my boyfriend who was in his OVHS long sleeved shirt and a corduroy jacket.  That is the picture I have in my senior year book with all the other girls with their dad.  So, I was so sad that moment was not the special moment I had so hoped for.  In fact, it was the only good thing that was coming out of this stupid court thing.  At least that is what I felt.  I give my dad jokingly crap about this from time to time, but to be honest, I am not sure he knows just how hurt and disappointed I was by this.  I should be used to it, and I told myself that then to feel better.  But I was crushed.  Not many really good things happen to me and this was something that in my eyes that was going to be really good and special for me and my dad, but as usual, it was a good thing gone bad. 

The Knott's Dance

Did your school have those?  Our High School had a dance each hear with 4 High Schools participated and Knott’s Berry Farm was closed to the public and just the people from the high schools who bought tickets could go.  It was neat and I only went to it once.  The very first year they did it.  We went as a group.  It was about 6 of us.  One of the parents in the group was the one who picked us all up and took us.  My mom was the one who was picking us all up at mid-night and bringing us all home safely.  Well, you can imagine my concern here.  See my mom starts drinking by dark everyday if not earlier.  I made my mom promise EVERYDAY for over a month that she would not drink until after she picks us all up.  Every time, she promised she would not drink until she came and got this.  Even with her promising every time I asked, I did not let 1 day go by where I did not make her promise.  I guess I felt if I did this and was persistent, she would have the strength not to drink, not to disappoint me this once.  

So we spent 4 hours at Knott’s, dancing, eating and riding rides.  It was so much fun.  The time flew by.  None of us were ready to leave when the clock stuck midnight.  But they were closing and asking us all to leave.  So, we did.  Us and hundreds of other kids.  We waited for a while before I saw my mom’s van to pick us up.  We didn’t care, we were chatting and having a great time.  My mom could have taken forever, for all we cared at that moment.

My mom pulled up with my cousin Andrew in the passenger seat.  Not sure why.  Maybe they were hanging out and she did not want to go alone to get the high schoolers.  But then I smelt it.  The very familiar scent of Jose Cuevo Gold.  I felt like I was smacked in the face by a huge bottle.  That is the way my mom always smells.  I went from pure happiness and bliss to anger, disappointment, fear and shame.  Some of my friends knew of my mom’s drinking and drugs, and some did not.  The worst in my opinion is that she brought a SOBER driver and he was in the passenger’s seat.   I waited all of maybe 5 minutes before I just started yelling at my mom.  Telling her that she is irresponsible driving all these kids while drunk.  I asked her if I should let all the parents know she was trashed when she picked us all up and that you had a sober drive which you refuse to let drive (technically her insurance did not cover drivers under 25 and my cousin was not 25 yet, so that was her excuse).  Some of my friends were asking me to stop and to leave it alone.  I was pissed and I was not going to stop.  I told them that she is risking all our lives by driving drunk and that your parents would not appreciate it.  I told them I had made my mom promise for over a month that she would not drink.  Man was I so embarrassed. 

I am not sure why, but I really thought making her promise would make her come through.  But I should have known then and I have since always known, if it is not about her needs, there is a chance they won’t be met.  Don’t get me wrong.  I feel everyone has the right to live their life the way they want and they are entitled to be selfish.  But only if they are single.  If you are a parent and have a family, it is no longer about you.   But call me crazy, that is just my personal opinion J

Well hello there Penis……

My first view of the male parts in person was not what most expects it to be.  My friend Jackie, Jenny and I were having a yard sale to make some money for our club.  I don’t remember our age.  But we were all new to the double digits in age, although my friends were a year older than me (twins).  A car pulled up.  We all kinda looked at each other and then I made my way towards his car.  His window was down.  I said “Excuse me, can I help you.”  I was hoping to make some money J  He moved his eyes downward to have me look down.  On his lap was a map book (Thomas guide or whatever they are called) but it was almost hanging off his lap, and then I noticed that his pants were down and his penis was right there.  He wanted me to see.  I was like “OK.” And I walked back to which he drove off.  Then I told my friends all about it and they were in shock.  We were not sure what to do.  We told my mom I think and then told their mom later.  My mom had us clean up for the day. 

But wait, there is more.  He apparently liked our neighborhood and the girls that lived there.  He proceeded to come back several times to see which one of us he could see and share.  He drove by on his motorcycle once all hanging out.  Where we lived, there was an alley behind our houses where the garages where.  He would spend lots of time there all hanging out for anyone to see.  He approached one of my friends in her driveway in the alley.  She was all alone.  Luckily it seemed all he wanted was to share his junk with the world as he never got aggressive or angry with any of us.  Nothing ever came of this and eventually he stopped coming by.  Maybe the cops got him, I really don’t remember.  But what a weird experience.  Who does that?

A Taste of My Childhood

OK, I keep hinting that there is something that might help if I tell you a little bit about growing up in my household.  There are still more stories on bad things that have happened to me with men, and I will get those out eventually.  Just like this little blog on my childhood will only be a speck to what all I grew up in.  So let’s rip the band aid off.

My household growing up was filled with drugs.  My mom was a user and a dealer.  The drug was cocaine.   To this day, I can say I have only smoked pot and drank.  Seeing my mom live her life like this as well as so many other family members, drugs were just not really on my list.  And to be honest, outside of cocaine and pot, I am not 100% certain I could identify any drugs.  I am not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.  But it is what it is. 

I knew which family members and which friends of the family were on drugs from a very early age.  I can remember being 5 and seeing coke on the coffee table in my mom’s room.  At the time, I was not aware what it was.  At about 8 I figured out for sure what my mom and all the others were doing.  When I was around 5 or 6 I saw white powder on one of my mom’s dressers and I for some reason thought it was sugar.  That was the first and last time I ever tried cocaine.  Let me tell you, it tastes nothing like sugar….LOL

A typical day in my house would consist of my mom sleeping until who knows when.  My brother and I would wake ourselves up, get ready for school, there was usually a few bucks for lunch and we would walk to school.  If you woke up late, waking up my mom to drive us was not something we ever wanted to do.  My mom had a part time job working for herself cleaning houses.  She would do this a few times a week and then every night she would go out drinking until the bar closed.  At 2:30am every morning, I would be woken up to my mom getting sick.  You would think she would know her limit….LOL  When I was younger, she used to drive me to my grandma’s where my grandma and her would go out drinking and then every night I was woken up a little after 2am to be put in the car for my mom to drive us home.  And every night at about 2:20am when we would pull up to our house, I would tell my mom I am sleeping in the car.  I never did.  I would get to sleep and then be woken up by my mom getting sick.  Boy was I tired as a child and very thankful when she finally realized being alone at my house is the same as being alone at my grandma’s, but this way, I am not being woken up every night at 2am to go home.

There is so much more to write on this, but it will be another time.  I promise you this, not all my stories and memories are bad.  But they all make me the person I am today.  Sure, there are things I wish I could change or erase, but that would change who I am now and I like who I have become J