Taking A Leap Of Faith (A Realization Post)

So I did it. I finally became independent. It only took 28 years!

Moving out is so cathartic, yet it is bittersweet to visit parents at home.

Here I am, with the love of my life, blogging, in our own place. How awesome! Right? Well, yes, but to an extent. The cons? Well, the bills, and the neighbors are ‘eh’, oh, and the lack of money because of bills, yea…

The pros? Way too many. They outdo the cons (even though bills are a major thing right now). But, the independence, being with my love (and so much closer to sealing that lifelong deal we all dream about), the ability to pay bills (that is so quintessential to life, I have money now). Oh, I could go on!

So, as everything in my personal blogging sphere is, I DID come on here to vent as well! So, prepare!

I got into yet another argument with my mom. As our relationship stands, it is very rocky, and i’ll admit (not just me) but she has to tread carefully. I guess what gets me is, the drinking. I drink, too, so no hypocrisy here, no shame. I just am someone who drinks and is, at the same time, honest about drinking. The rest of my family members aren’t. It’s ok. Do you, momma, but, ima do me, too.

I love you, but I just cannot tell you everything mom, i can’t. It would be a big burden to not only my personal intimate relationship with my, right now, boyfriend, but also, my relationship with you.

Not to say I hate my mom, I don’t. I love her with all my heart. Although, she’s just one of those people (cancer’s, if you believe in Astrology) that I cannot tell everything to, and it’s only hurting me to do that.

Do you Momma! I’ma do me!

 

Divorce & The Holidays

When I think about the holidays I think of the typical “jolly” spirit that we’d all like to embrace. There’s so much more lurking deeper inside all of us. We just don’t share it, and if we do we become a “Negative Nancy” or some sort of “Bah-Humbug” nuance that we all had hoped to avoid. 

I can’t speak for everyone factually and I don’t want to sound like I am. So let me speak for myself.

My childhood wasn’t perfect. It also wasn’t entirely typical. I grew up in an upper middle class, mixed race, church-going, mixed family. My dad was my dad. My mom was my mom. My sister was my sister. Of course, I loved them all. My sister is technically my half-sister, though. We shared one parent in common. My mom and dad had me later in life. I could go on with details. We all had a loving life, or so I thought. I thought we all loved each other. I thought love would keep us together. 

When I was coming into my teens, my mom was currently working as an esthetitian. She owned her own business and it became a family business between my parents. She had many customers. Many were repeat customers. She had one customer in particular that used many, if not all, of the services available. She tipped well and even brought her little dog in every once and awhile. She was also clinically deaf. 

One day there was bad news going around the beauty salon my mom and dad owned together. This specific woman, this customer, had been hit by an oncoming train. She didn’t hear it coming because she was deaf. Her husband came into the salon to tell my mom what had happened days later, not saying much else. Little did I know this was just the beginning. 

Over the period of a next few months there were times where my mom would get home from work and just sit at the computer. A computer that was not from our home. It was unusual because she would usually watch Sex and the City every night, or Ally McBeal. I found out later that the husband of the late woman bought my mom that computer. In a matter of time they were communicating in various ways through computer, phone calls, texts, the like. I suspected what was going on, as I was 14 at the time. 

One day I woke up to goto school and I couldnt find my mom anywhere. My dad said she had left the house in the middle of the night to goto another man’s house. I was surprised it happened so fast but I was privy to it. 

She left him. She left us, all of us, for him, for good. 

I was shocked. I was saddened. My heart broke.

Fast forward to now, ten years later and I’m still not over it or accepting this man as neither my stepdad or family member. You could say I hold grudges or live in the past, but this is full-on grief. I’m in the stage where I’m learning to accept the change, ten years later. 

The holidays for 2016 are rolling around and why am I stewing about this now? Because family and holidays will never be the same, and a holiday without the family you’ve ever known will never be the same. It’s a process of grieving. 

Parents Who Help

sometimes im jealous of people who have parents that do everything they can to help them through stuff like this. all the stories ive read about people (usually moms) doing all this stuff and learning about the issues with their child and finding them help.

it brings a real heartache to my chest.
thats never been either of my parents TBH.
they initially didnt want me to have anything to do with psychiatry when I was a teen. very little. i begged for help at the time because living was very unbearable. i eventually hit a rock bottom and quite literally physically and mentally and emotionally dropped out of school without actually technically dropping out. even though before i was giong to  psychiatrist and been to a hospital, they took it more seriously when i became 17 and had become I think so depressed and not doing anything, that I had my first full psychotic break.

they still dont know what to do. or how to do anything. just like in the past. except now they have left it really all up to the mental health system of which i want nothing more than to run away from.  but i am not someone who is able to live without some kind of help. its never proven to be more hard and uncomfortable living with schizophrenia until the early twenties of my life. i will be 23 this month and even though i was diagnosed with schizoaffective at 17 and had symptoms since about 9 years old, It hasnt proven to be so hard until i hit 20 and has become so unrelentingly, mindblowing, head spinning, disorientingly, sicken-ly, harder every year i have grown older.