Monday, April 21, 2014

Introduction to My Childhood

I suppose that I should introduce myself. My name is Melissa Marie, and I'm 29 years old. It has taken me almost 29 years to understand that I can be myself. Today, I had sort of an epiphany of which I'd like to go into more detail at a later time, but first, let me tell you more about myself.

Life has a strange way of moving. It's complicated and confusing, but we continue to learn every day and it empowers us to become better, stronger, and more attentive to our surroundings. My life... has been like the ocean. It's been rocky, with waves of turmoil and sadness during incredible thunderstorms. It's been calm and gentle at times, and has provided a home for so much knowledge and understanding that I often astonish myself. People have sailed through my life to reach important destinations in their own lives, and left a piece of them in the depths of my heart to be forever remembered. And, this life of mine, has been undeniably difficult but given that it has shaped and developed me into the person I am today, I love and accept it.

My childhood consisted of constantly moving from place to place due to a lack of stability both financially and mentally. We jumped from place to place and each time we started anew. With everything that I've experienced, I feel that it is absolutely amazing that I and my younger brother have become intellectual, honest, goodhearted individuals. However, I do not wish any child to experience even a quarter of what I've experienced.

My mother was a young mother. She had me at the age of 18. She is a beautiful woman with a heart so full and big that I am reminded that love can overpower even the most difficult of flaws. And when I say this, I am not just simply referencing the love of a mother, which is already incredibly strong. I say this with the intention of meaning, she truly loves like someone I have never met before. Any good friend of mine, she adopts into her heart and her life and accepts them no matter what. She leaves judgement at the door, and shares her heart with everyone that comes into her life. I have seen her try and try again to take in a friend, a child, or someone in trouble and show them that they can be loved.

She lived a life that took her down dark paths of drugs, alcohol, and mental instability. She was never married to my father, and left him when I was about 5 years old and my younger brother around 3. Looking back, as a child, you are naive and innocent, and your experiences can take years to fully be understood. I didn't understand what was happening at the time, but today I have a much better understanding upon looking at the whole picture.

No one is perfect. We know this. We strive to be, but if you don't realize that you will never actually be perfect, you'll live unhappy and cold. My mom is not perfect. There were times growing up where I honestly believed I hated her. I know, however, that I could never hate her and that it really isn't my place to judge her. The truth is, I blamed her for a lot and for that I am so very sorry. But, all things truly do happen for a reason and I honestly love who I am inside and out and I wouldn't be this person if it weren't for her.

I've been sexually molested, and mentally abused. I've watched as she's been drunk and beaten. I've seen her sickly and helpless. She took a life working for the carnivals or fairs that you see in towns that travel all across the west coast. Now, I could go into how much I truly despise these companies, but that will steer us in the wrong direction for this post. Simply stated, I would rather live in gang infested territories than with a traveling carnival like where she worked.

We've lived in trailer parks. We've lived across the street from "crack houses" and gangs. We've been homeless on others floors, couches, or extra rooms. We've even lived, at very rare times, as middle class citizens. But, most of all, we've survived. I've attended about 13 different schools growing up, and please keep in mind that 4 years was spent at one high school. I constantly had to learn to make and meet new friends and enemies. I've been bullied. I've been popular. I've been shy and quiet some times, and others I'd be sociable and friendly. I would consider myself to have been accustomed to manipulating who I am to adapt to my new surroundings. This trait can be seen as both good and bad, because though you learn to accept anyone of any variety,  you also learn to forget yourself.

My dad up until I was almost 15, had partial custody. He would pick us up and we would travel from destination to destination to visit family. From what I was told, when my mom left my dad, she did so with no inclination that she was leaving for good. She took my brother and I and expected to never see him again. Of course, a little while later they fought for custody of my brother and myself. When this happened, I can only explain what I've witnessed and what I've heard, so it could be a little skewed. This was during a time where I was in school already and my brother was not, and we had moved to San Jose. She traveled to near where we had been living with my dad, in Tulare, with my brother to do something and left my brother with a friend. My dad found out where my brother was, and asked to take him to lunch but he'd never expected to return with my brother.

When my mom came back to where I was, while living with my grandma, she sat me down and told me that my dad was a bad man who had kidnapped my brother. This is an extremely important piece of information, as it entirely turned me against my dad for years and this brought us into the start of a custody battle. During the trial, of which I remember very little of, I was taken to speak with the judge and asked who I would rather live with. Given that I thought of my dad as a very bad man, I obviously chose my mom. For a very long time, I didn't even want to call him my dad, and I was somewhere around 6-7. I remember my emotions in the matter and it sometimes surprises me how grown up my mental state had already become.

After that, we would move all over San Jose, then to Clovis, Fresno, Visalia, and back to the Bay Area. Many of the times we moved, we left the majority of our things behind and took only some clothes and a few other items. During all of this moving, my dad would find out where we were and pick us up during breaks in school.

Lets talk a little about my dad. I mentioned before, there was a time in which I really did not like my dad. I saw him as a bad man who took my brother. However, this has changed tremendously, especially given what information is better understood and my experiences with him in my teenage years.

My dad is a sober alcoholic. I've heard horrible stories of his past that includes violence and waking up in gutters, soiled and cold. He had two other daughters with different women than my mom. In all of my life, I never had to experience his alcoholism, so I don't have any first hand experiences. However, he has made a tremendous change in his life and I honestly feel that his story needs to be told. I may not be the one to give the best detail, but for someone into drugs and a horrid alcoholic, he has transformed into a patient and caring man. He went back to school, quit smoking and drinking, and achieved his masters degree almost 20 years after being sober. He is a true symbol of hope for many people who have been recovering from addictions.

When I was 10, my dad picked myself and my brother up for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving day, he informed us that my sister, Michelle, had passed away. She lived in a really small town, and when you go to their cemetery, you'll notice there are a lot of young deaths in this small area. Her story, however, could be different. What I was told, was that she and her friends had a gun and were playing with it. One of the guys pointed the gun at her jokingly and fired; sadly, it indeed was loaded. She was only about 15. My brother and I didn't hear about this until a month after because my dad at the time said he didn't know where my mom had moved again. So, we had missed the funeral of our own sister. Upon telling us, I calmly said okay and walked away not shedding a single tear in front of him or anyone else... Instead, I pretended I needed to use the restroom and silently cried in there to myself. It took me 6 months to really have it hit me, and I sobbed in my moms lap in some hotel room.

For a really long time, I blamed my mom for many things. She lied to me by saying that my dad was a bad man. I felt guilty for not calling him dad for some years. She brought violence, sex, and drugs into my childhood. She was the reason I didn't have friends that I grew up with for years, or relationships that could be remembered forever. Then, when I was 13, she decided that she could no longer care for us and we moved in with my dad's sister in Visalia. At this time, I really looked down on her. For a long time, I felt more like the adult who had an acquaintance whom also happened to have given birth to me. I felt that I couldn't love her as my mom like so many other children did. So, I emotionally distanced myself from her. Today, my views have completely changed, but like I said... children don't always know how to understand such difficult times.

Giving up your children also means you've given up your internal pride, and from what I hear, is the hardest thing a mother can do. However, it was the best thing she could have done. My brother and I lived with my Aunt and Uncle for about 2 years, and eventually my dad took us in. My freshman year of high school, we moved in with my dad and we were registered for school on the first day of school.

Now, all of the history above was only 15 years of my life, and we haven't even gotten to my adulthood. Plus, a lot of this is quickly summarizing and very little detail. However, knowing what I've already written, I only hope that helps in explaining why I have such a strong connection with my dad. To me, life seemed like the grass was always greener on his side, and in some respects it definitely became greener when we moved in. However, I'd already grown to understand a lot about people and the lives they live, so my thoughts centered on my appreciation for getting to change my environment.

Many will say that he only did what a father should do, and there was nothing special there. In fact, a glance on the outside could make you think that my dad is incapable of showing love and the type of person who thinks they can buy your affection even when he doesn't really have the money. Me, on the other hand, saw a man who turned his life around and sacrificed a lot to give us a proper... well, what was left of it anyway... childhood. He moved out of his small affordable bachelor pad, into something more expensive across the bay just to get us into a better school district. He changed his career to travel less and eventually emulate our schedules as close as possible, by working in a school. To me, this was like winning the lottery.

He promised not to make us move again so that we could remain in the same schools with the same friends. Again, no one is perfect, but he definitely gave up a lot to try and be a father. He hardly ever got mad, loud, or even mean. He isn't the best at dealing with emotions or showing endearing affection, but after all of my experiences with people, I know he did his best. He accepted us and wanted us to be and do what made us happy. He didn't just do that, however, he went into debt to take us on vacations with his other sister and her husband. And those trips, are some of the most amazing memories of my life. How could I not love and appreciate my dad for taking all of my darkest memories and throwing in some happy experiences to bring light into the dark?

And like I said, no one is perfect, and I accepted that. The moment I turned of age to get a job, I got one. I didn't want to burden him with extra expenses and used my own money to buy the things I needed or wanted like yearbooks or supplies or lunch food. It wasn't that he couldn't or didn't want to give the money for them, it was my own commitment to show how thankful I was... whether he knew it or not.

My mom and my dad are two completely different people, both with really dark histories, but in all honesty, I couldn't ask for better. They are both patient and accept me for whoever or whatever I want to be. They support me in any venture or path I choose to take. It doesn't matter what mistakes I've made, they will always be there to love and encourage me; and for me, that's all I need.

I realize that this is an incredibly long read, but if anyone ever does read it, I hope they get to this last part. This part is the most important. It took me a really long time to allow myself to open up and be myself. Because of all of this stuff above, I was always an observer. I watched and I listened. I analyzed the people around me and I emulated who they were so that I could feel accepted. I held all of my feelings and secrets inside and never let the world see them. This caused me to spiral into a very deep and dark depression. It wasn't until recently that I met a man who would show me that who I am is beautiful, and I no longer have to pretend to be like whoever I'm around. I look around me everyday and I just watch people. I appreciate how my mind works, because it doesn't judge. My first instinct is not to choose whether or not a person is bad or good. My first instinct is to learn whether or not they are bad or good. This is a quality that I think the world lacks.

People are extremely similar. We go through different experiences and we learn different traits and develop different opinions... but deep down we are very much the same. It doesn't matter if you are rich, poor, black, white, gay or straight. I guarantee that those things don't change the fact that all a human being really needs is love. Not just love from a soul mate, but love as a whole. If we can live to share our love with others, live honestly, and justly then we can live to be happy. And here is the point of all of this... I want to show the world that after 29 years of craziness, there is a bright side. So, with this blog, I hope to share many of my experiences and hope that I can maybe uplift someone else. I promise that the posts wont all be this long, but please feel free to comment or respond any way you like. And, if you, the reader, ever need someone to listen, here I am....