OF CHILDHOOD AND TAKING RESPONSIBILITY

1990, Hawthorne, CA - Tears uncontrollably welled from my eyes as I opened up to my mother how I had carried my life’s trash for 35 years. It was a very heavy burden, but I got to unload it to her that day, my personal trash day. Flashback to childhood ….

No, my parents are not divorced; however, I remember as a child of 7 or 8, my mother tells me that when she leaves my father, she will not take me, and I have to go with my father. She will take with her my three younger siblings, but not me. Meanwhile, I waited for my father to ‘allow’ me to go with him if mom leaves. Over time, I was convinced he was ‘henpecked.’ Papa never said anything to me.

I don’t remember crying after these “life’s little conversations”; I remembered I always became quiet. When you are a kid there’s not much to say, you just wait and wait and wait until you grow up. You are not allowed to make any decisions. Life for me was always expendable, like you were at a precipice all the time.

What eventually happened to my life was a mess! Here I am, recently divorced from a husband of 8 years, half of those years, I was working abroad, in Oman with a very meager salary, to support 3 children and a husband. My husband then, my children’s father, cared for our kids. I’ve been in the US for 4 years now, hiding behind “bought” social security ID’s to be able to work. Note: My social security number belongs to me, however, because the card says “not to be used for work purposes”, so I can’t apply for a job with that statement in my SS card. And I badly needed a visa to continue to stay here in America. What to do? Consequently, I’d manipulated to adjust my immigration status and to permanently stay in the country, by agreeing to marry a loser of a guy interested in me. Without ever knowing this person’s character, I only thought this was an easier way to solve my problem. The mess with the kids can be dealt with later! I fell into ‘my precipice’, but I didn’t notice. Aaaaaaaagh!

More embarrassments later, on the eve of my supposed to be “wedding day”, I found out that this guy was so full of vice and so flawed in character, I cancelled the wedding and vowed to be patient with myself… What about my kids?

Zapped back to reality, I was stunned by my mother’s reaction to what I just told her, that I did not appreciate growing up very unsure of so many things; that most of my blunders were the results of my life’s uncertainties. All of the pain that I had caused my own children are borne of the pain that I had as a child. And now I can’t undo it anymore. I saw my mother cry. Was this tear for me? I never saw her breakdown so it was difficult for me to see her tears. But there was a redeeming quality to this day. That day I grew up. That day I shed my indecisive ways. My parents cannot hurt me anymore. I have forgiven them. I’ve forgiven myself.

Yes, my parents did not get divorced; but from a child’s perspective, they could very well have been. Love would have given me the surest footing, the surest foundation. When confronted by the abyss of rejection, I could not focus on growing up. There’s only the thought of falling off the cliff. At this point, I knew I have to be my own parent. And pray, pray, pray….