Tag Archives: Mother

My Own Bubble

Over the course of the last decade, I’ve transformed from someone surrounded with what I thought were loyal, caring people, to being utterly alone. As it turned out, none of those people were actually there when it mattered, so one day, I just decided that enough was enough, and said to hell with everyone.

Not exactly an easy decision when you’ve always had friends around you, or so you thought. It seems though that it’s now easier for me to just be with myself, my husband, and my daughter, and shut out the rest of the world. Some would attribute this to my depression, but it’s never been able to drive me this far from who I am.

Perhaps, instead, I’ve simply evolved into some other kind of person, one unrecognizable to myself, yet a person who’s better equipped to stand on their own. This was something I always struggled with, being alone, so I always chose not to be. Now that the option is mine, and while I won’t say it’s ideal, I won’t allow people into my life who don’t make me feel certain that they’re intentions are for the best.

After the ways I’ve been hurt, one of my biggest goals in life is to help steer my daughter away from those who don’t deserve her time, attention, love, and loyalty. Obviously someone will hurt her at some point, but I’ll help her from keeping them around for too long, as that was one of my biggest faults in life.

There’s a part of me that honestly wonders if I’ll ever be able to allow someone in, if I can ever trust someone a friend again, and how I’ll even meet someone is beyond me. My daughter is my life, and most of my time is spent at home with her, or cleaning, or grocery shopping, etc. I’m hopeful that I’ll find someone soon, but I’m not out there searching for you. Maybe you’ll find your way to me, eventually.

Bubble

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Never Enough

I try my best to be thankful for the little things I have, but it’s difficult when there’s always something new to bring us down. Money makes the world go round, so they say, I wouldn’t know. But I do know that needing more is stealing my joy and hope. My daughter loves me so, we’re as close as close can be, but because of her own issues, sometimes that’s hard for her to see. Our home is an apartment filled with neighbors who have tried to do everything in their power to get us kicked to the curb.

My husband is my best friend, and for years my only friend. We’ve been to hell and back together, an extremely difficult path. At first it began with us chasing our dreams, and oh did we get close. But now our lives consist of trying to figure out how to support us. We haven’t been alone in well over a year, I’ve never had a babysitter, and our daughter won’t tolerate being alone with strangers. I wish and try to find a way for us to live our lives to the most, instead we spend our days scared that we may not survive.

But having them alone should simply be enough for me, and gratitude is a feeling that is quite unknown to me. I’ve spent most of my life focusing on how to stay alive, I’m not quite sure I can figure out how to live a life instead. I’m trying to be better, to improve for my little girl, working out, eating better, never smoking in front of her. And yet them bigger issues in myself elude me so, I need some help to find myself before I get too old.

Gratitude

My First Audition

When I was 10/11 years old, I read in my local newspaper that a group of executives from a prominent record label in Nashville was coming to my area. It was simple really, fill out the required paperwork, pay the $50 fee, and bring a blank VHS tape if you’d like the performance to be recorded.

We had recently moved to a new area, and ever since I’d been struggling to feel like I fit in. So if cleaned up the house, acted as perfectly as possible, and pitched the idea to my mom. I honestly don’t know why she agreed, we were never close and not once did she feign even the slightest interest in anything I enjoyed.

When the day finally arrived, we picked up my only friend and headed to the hotel ballroom. My song choices were between Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” and “My Immortal” by Evanescence. Both encased two different qualities in my voice that I thought sounded good, but ultimately I went with my girl Avril.

At last after hours of performances, they called me to the stage. While I was incredibly nervous, I’d also never felt more sure of anything before that moment. I remember wearing my white Adidas, the original old school ones, I stared them down so hard as the music began. I instantly regretted wearing khakis, like what was I thinking.

The video starts recording, and seconds after it begins, the sound guy can be heard asking my mom if she thinks that I’m actually gonna sing. Apparently my nerves weren’t as hidden as I had thought, and I would afterwards discover that I had sweated through my shirt and jacket, so I was drenched. But it didn’t affect my performance one bit, and I sang my little heart out.

I had a quiet start, but I finished strong, and the record execs actually expressed interest in me, but my mom couldn’t possibly allow me that much enjoyment out of life; in her words, I was lucky just to have gotten the experience. I’ll never forgive her for that moment, music is still to this day what I know I’m meant to do, and I tried so hard, but ultimately failed. I keep toying around with the idea of applying for the Voice, but I guess only time will tell.

My Mother’s Mistakes

Simply put, I come from a tainted gene pool; the very small group of them that I do know and know of are all sick and twisted undividuals, riddled with a whole range of physical and mental diseases and disorders. If I’m being completely honest, my mom is the root of most of my biggest struggles, even still today. I’ve written about it briefly in other posts, but things have happened between us that have made therapists themselves cry.

We still have a relationship currently, not a healthy one by any means, but the only reason for that, despite my many attempts and resolutions, she’s good to my daughter. Essentially every time we’re in a room together, there is some type of disagreement at the very least, and while I do accept that I’m easily baited, it doesn’t get easier with age like I hoped it would. She thinks she can still dismiss and disrespect me and that just by being nice to my daughter, that makes it all okay.

She’s the reason so many of my relationships have either blown up or ended with me feeling broken. The only silver lining I’ve been able to find after all this time is just knowing that I’ll be the exact opposite as her, that my daughter will never feel demeaned and worthless in my eyes. I’ve said this to her face multiple times and she doesn’t even try to defend herself, but why won’t she even attempt a sincere apology?

There are moments in life that never leave us, ones that molded, defined, and deeply affected who we would after become. Addressing those issues with her generally results in either her claiming it never happened, that I made it up, and acting as though she has the right to be offended for being confronted on her own actions. How do I reach a point where I’m not enraged and outraged by her response, even though I know that’s what’ll happen?

I have an older brother that I will most likely never have the chance to meet, he was given up for adoption by my mom in 1988 when he was 10 months old. He was born in Puerto Rico and I would later find out that my mom never even filled out paperwork with the family he was taken in by, and it kills me that I don’t have enough information to locate him.

I’ve spent many hours since finding out about him when I was around 10 just hoping that he had an amazing life full of love and joy, hoping that at least maybe my suffering can hurt a little less knowing he didn’t have to suffer through it. I’ve daydreamed for days on end about what it might have been like to have an older brother around to protect and guide me. I hope I find you some day.