Wednesday, February 24, 2010

In the beginning...and then at the end.

So it's harder to do this than I thought. How do I start? Do I describe who I was and then who I am? Do I just start with early memories and walk through my life picking a choosing a few stories to highlight what was going on? Do I start with the disclaimers or end with them? Or possibly sprinkle them through? So today we start with framework. I think that's the way I do things best, so that's what I will go with.

As I think about the story I want to tell there are a few things that stick out to me. First off, a lot of it will sound whiny. There is no way around that, because part of it is whiny. And the other part is that in life there are often times where there are no good guys and no bad guys but there is a sliding scale. Sometimes the good guys aren't so good and sometimes the bad guys are okay and most of the time they are just guys, not good or bad at all. And the last part is I want everyone to know as you read all of this, everyone turned out okay in the end.

So here we go, general over view time. People who are friends with me now would describe me as a nice person I think. I think that might be one of the first things people would say. She's nice, smiles a lot, loud laugh. You might get a few, good moms and smart lady thrown in there as well. I think that is who I am now. I also could be wrong and it could be that I work hard at being nice and being a good mom so I hope people think that about me. If you were to go back in time and ask my friends (and these are friends mind you) about my main personality quality in the 80s you would have gotten a lot more she's a bitch than she's nice. You might have gotten she can be your best friend or your worst enemy, your choice. And even a few, mean drunk.

So how did I get from bitchy (and proud of it) to nice (and works at it) in a few short years and keep it that way for decades? And to back it up farther how did I go from quiet well behaved little girl to raging bitch on wheels in one decade? That's my story. The main story of me. Everyone has one. The how did you become who you are today? I always love hearing about people that I met as an adult and how they were in high school or college. Those growing and changing years. And it's always so fun to get a piece that is completely out of character. Sometimes you know that someone was the cheer leader or the jock, but what if the stunningly beautiful confident woman was the odd looking girl who nobody talked to? What about the heavy bald guy with the great sense of humor, would it shock you to hear he was the gorgeous quarterback of the football team and a HUGE jerk? What is the story? And what if the story of who they were, was just that, a story? Something they made up and became? What then?

I am the youngest in my family and I was an accident (you've read that story in an earlier blog). My oldest brother is 14 years older than I am and got married when he was 19 so his wife is as much a part of my memory growing up as if she was blood. But because they were married and living on their own our relationship is closer to Aunt/Uncle/Niece than siblings I would say. My middle brother and sister were home with me but 9 and 7 years older respectively. My parents also had two other daughters and a son who had died before I was born. So though they are my siblings and part of our family history, they weren't part of my life in any way other than other people's memories. We were broke. Dad worked at least 2 jobs for most of my life at home. Mom worked full time. Middle brother worked full time. As soon as I hit 15 I worked. It's just what you did. I tell you that because it becomes important in parts of the story later.

My mother tells a story about the day I was born. She held me in the hospital, looked me in the eye and told me, "We changed our lives for children before. We aren't doing that this time. You will change your schedule to fit ours." and she went about making it happen. I was on 3 meals a day and sleeping through the night at just a few months old. She also likes to tell the story of how I potty trained myself at 18 months old. She was babysitting neighborhood kids at the time and there was a little girl she was watching who was at the potty training age. Well, we had a potty chair and I knew it was mine, my sister and brothers obviously used the regular toilet and so that chair was my chair. I was not having it that this other child was going to use my chair. Kids in bigger families will understand that having something that is yours and you don't have to share is a big deal. Anyway...to thwart this other child I would go sit on the potty chair for HOURS until something happened. Eventually I learned when I needed to use it and when I didn't. Trained myself so I could use the chair. Then quickly decided that the chair was for babies and would climb and hover over the big kid toilet. My mother will also tell you that I was born old. I was always determined and thoughtful and planned things out. She will let you know that they didn't worry about me because they knew I would be fine.

I will let you know that in my version of the story, I wasn't born old I just learned very quickly that I needed to make sure I was taking care of myself and making my decisions because no one else was going to. I was thoughtful and planned things out because that was the way to stay safe. And one more thing, that description of who I am today? If you were to ask my family back in New Mexico I would gather most of them would say bitch still to this day. And that's where we will leave it for today.

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