Not so sure.
2007-02-22
OK, I don't know what was wrong with me yesterday...but I am not feeling so despondent today. I have been so damn moody lately. We found a wonderful house today with the real-estate agent! Currently we are in the process of being preaproved for a mortgage. I am not getting my hopes up yet, but I am excited. The lender said we could definitely get approved, it is just a matter of how much and at what percentage. Very nervous. Big step. I actually shed a tear when we were told we had a chance. Sometimes it is really a pain in the ass to be a woman, and I mean that from a hormonal stand point.
Anyways. So here is the short version of my life up to this point. I grew up in Glendale Arizona. I have one brother who is seven years younger than me. We moved to Bryan Texas when I was thirteen, the parents promptly got divorced. It was a long and ugly time coming. I lived with my mom and brother to begin with. I was a very gothic little teenager filled with angst. When I was seventeen my mother kicked me out of the house, for the last time, and threw all my things out in the rain pretty much. So I lived with my Dad until I was nineteen. I met Mark when I was twenty and we moved in together six months later. I don't want to get into any details but lets just say there was some questionable parenting going on in my mothers house when I was there, and it got worse after I left. I was really concerned for my brother. So, starting over two years ago my father and I teamed up to try and get my brother out of my mothers house. It was a VERY long and painful legal battle that ended in a draw. You see my brother wants to stay with my Mom. Its comfortable for him. Now he hates me and hasn't spoken to me in years. He wont speak to my Dad either. I did not speak to my Mom for a long time. Things are starting to mend between the two of us. So it is better on that front. But my brother still wont talk to me.
I have always felt like I was expendable to her. I was kicked out for very little reason. The home life at that point was abusive. She let me go and never looked back, but fought like hell to keep my brother all to herself. Its painful. I spent time in children's shelters, you know, the kind run by the state. It is all very complicated. Please don't think I am ungrateful to my Mother. I love her. But she was wrong. She threw one child away and cherished the other. I'm sure she has issues of her own. I just can't help but think about all of the ugliness sometimes. I still feel like I was not good enough for her. Like I was less. I feel like I want people to know this about me. How hard it is to testify against someone you love. How hard it is to bring up all of the ugly and embarrassing things that went on. Someone who will not compromise or listen. I don't think it is possible for someone to hate an other person more than she hates my Dad. In allot of ways I feel like all of this came about to hurt him.
I want to avoid sounding like, "It is all my parents fault, look what they did to me." There are limits to that argument. I'm not even sure what I'm getting at.
I love my father and my stepmother more than I can explain. They are the most wonderful people I know. I love my mother the same way. Its just more complicated with her. I love my husband, and I now have the happy and satisfying home life I always wanted. But sometimes I still feel like that scared little girl under the bed waiting for the screaming to stop.
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