This is only a test...

I’m not really sure where to start because I’m still unsure of what I am doing here. The likelihood of me even following through with this “blog” is slim if I’m being honest with myself... but that’s probably my goal, honesty... to be completely transparent and honest with myself.

My kids are just breaching adulthood and I’m seeing patterns emerging in them that are triggering regrets, trauma, and a string of bad decisions from my own past. I want to guide them as a parent should but I’ve never been particularly good at navigating my own life, which is why I am a 45 year old with 3 ovi’s, a felony and currently stranded in the pits of back woods Oklahoma impatiently waiting until I am eligible for a valid drivers license (17 more days) for the 3rd time so I can go find my real self.

I want nothing but happiness and joy for my children and grandchildren (3 grand babies to date) and I need to learn to practice what I preach.

So, this is kind of a muddled start to a journey to find my happy. I’m sure I’m going to be all over the place from complaining about my current situation and how my current significant other is a jackass 72% of the time or how my childhood sucked or my marriage was a train wreck and my ex is still a douche or how I survived jail/rehab and how it affected me and the things I still struggle to discuss with the people that love me most. So basically it’s going to be a mess like my life has been up to this point but I am hoping to clear my overflowing head like a purge so that I can get my life in order and back on track, to start living true to myself and start being an example my children deserve.

But first, a short synopsis of my life so far...

I was born 10 July 1975 in small town Ohio to my married parents. They divorced when I was 2. My mother retained full custody and standard visitation started with my father. Soon after the first few visits, I started protesting going with dad. “Please don’t make me, mommy”. But the law said I had to. My mom questioned my father about what was happening at his place to make me not want to go but of course he said nothing was happening. My mother soon found out from mutual friends that one weekend I almost drowned in a pool because all of the adults were getting high, that another child ended up pulling me out of the pool. Another time, my dad rolled his van with me in it from drunk driving. There were other incidents too. I got so defiant about going with him and mom fought so hard to keep me home but my father would just get the police involved. I would hold on to my mom so tight and beg her not to let go but the police officer would pull me off of her, stuff me in my dads van and make me go with him. “It was his right as a father to spend time with his daughter.” Mom couldn’t stop it.

Mom worked at the local bowling alley as a bartender. I would go to work with her and sit at the bar drinking Shirley Temples and talking to the older league bowlers and regulars. I’m sure I talked about nonsense to them, what new Care Bear or My Little Pony I got, but they listened. I would always gravitate to the elderly everywhere I went. Mom would lose me in a store only to find me holding some old person’s hand and talking their ear off.

I think that attachment was in part to me being so close to my maternal grandparents. I spent a lot of time with them. They were my safe place, and I was their favorite. They told me so.

Grandma and I would have Saturday morning shopping trips to Rikes or Jack’s Pets. Grandpa and I would sit and roll his cigarettes together or I would sit on the arm of his recliner while he watched Jeopardy or did crossword puzzles. I helped grandma with the garden or feed the squirrel she befriended after she nursed him back to health. The little guy came every morning for a treat... usually peanut butter on a cracker... it was his favorite.

It was my grandma that I finally told about what was really going on over at my dads house. He was touching me and making me hurt in my private parts. I begged grandma not to tell because daddy would hurt mommy and me if I told anyone.

Grandma immediately took me to the doctor which confirmed the vaginal damage... and then she called my mom.