To the best of my knowledge, all of the events portrayed herein are true and occurred as described.
Remember, though, that each of us perceives things uniquely.
During my high school years, I was somewhat of an outcast. I didn’t fit any of the cliques. I knew a lot of people, but had few real friends. I strived for mediocrity, and I achieved it quite manageably. Memories I still can recall from those years include my two years in marching band, my short stint as a teacher assistant to Mrs. Ross, my guidance counselor – Mrs. George – who told me I would do well as a writer along the lines of Erma Bombeck, my crushes, those few friends, and school dances.
Oh, and that guy I married who nearly ruined my life.
Okay… that wasn’t fair. I made the decision, I made the choice. Back then I just wasn’t very good at making choices. I acted on impulse, and the impulse to get back at my parents for being parents drove me to marry “The Donald”. Rocky from the start, our relationship as married people lasted almost two years before going all to pieces with a few well-placed punches. Slaps, whatever. It hurt, that’s all I know. The babies were the losers in that situation, as children always are. Their mom went off into a mental breakdown, their dad acted the hero who was put upon by the wicked actions of his chattel, and they were raised in a prison of authoritarian discipline and mental torture which did a number on their psyches. Mom eventually escaped the big city and her former master chief, alone. And so…
Isn’t it interesting how I’ve separated myself from that previous incarnation? Such a tragic story, sometimes I wish that it had all been a very bad dream.
Jump ahead a bit, and I’m in a new state with an old boyfriend. We’d dated a short time during high school, and he became my knight in shining armor who brought me out of the hell of my old life. A year after the move, we married. We were goofy in love, it was strange and unreal. More like a sitcom pilot than a true fit. A year after we married, my son Mike arrived. I say “my” son because his dad hasn’t had a whole lot of interest in him, other than to shower him with gifts and belittling, contemptuous lectures. Mike is 17 now, and has issues with self-esteem and materialism. I love him, though. Besides, I don’t know many 17-year-olds who don’t have those same issues. Am I right?
See, now you’re wondering if I’m not the most depressing person on earth. Stick with me, good stuff happened.
Okay, now. Good stuff. Let’s see where that came in…
Six years into my second attempt at marriage, I found the internet. I needed something to do while my husband played with little plastic models of cars and airplanes worked on his hobby, so we bought a Mac. Wow, was that the coolest thing ever, or what?! I can talk to people all over town all at once! Wait… I can talk to people all over the country? The WORLD?! Sign me up! And the friendships started. I was funny, I was happy, I was a great listener, and people liked me. They waited hours for me so that they could talk to me. I had found the most incredible way to communicate, and I was addicted in short order. Where the hell was this beautiful thing during my teen years?
One friendship in particular began as a chat between me and a kid. I thought he was a kid of about 12, from what people had told me. We played a game – pre-Warcraft text style game – and were always playing on the same side. Well, usually. Anyway, he was a cool kid and well-spoken, fun to talk to and knew his way around the game so I was always asking questions. We spent an entire day chatting once when he was home sick from school. Heck, I was a mom, I knew kids and liked being their pal.
Okay, then I find out he’s not 12… he’s an adult. And we finally met, clicked like perfection, decided to make it real. (Yeah, so I skipped a lot of stuff there… live with it.)
People talk about soul mates, how finding that right person is so important and yet so incredibly difficult. Well, I got mine, finally. You just need to know how to open up to someone completely. That’s what it’s like for us. We always know what each other is thinking. We’ve got that “fit” that says “for life”. We’re best friends before anything or anyone else. Ten years later, we still talk about deep, spiritual things, stuff that nobody else I’ve ever known has been interested in talking about. And we’re awesome parents together. Our daughter Rachel is 9 and has the wisdom of a much older person. Our son Brandon is 3, a bright and happy little spitfire. They both love their big brother Mike.
And I am so done with having kids.
