These words are paraphrased since my memory is 40 years older than the 6 year old who heard this for the first time. My mother..."life has not been good. Everything is so hard for me. Virginia took off and never calls home and when she does so infrequently she cries, screams and is incoherent. I don't know where she is. She won't tell me. She cries out in pain and I ask her where she is but she won't answer me. Then she hangs up." "Don't get me started on Sally. She hangs out with her drug addict friends, many who are sweet kids but it drives Fred up the wall her coming all hours of the night and day. I don't know if she is doing drugs and don't ask." "What can I do?"
Standing next to her she looks down and says "Here though is my baby. She's my good girl. I know she will never cause me such pain. I know I can always rely on her to be smart and do the right thing. Right my pretty girl? You'll never cause me so much trouble. You're my good girl right?"
These comments were repeated in some version over and over until I would not stand there and listen any longer. Virginia stayed away. Sally became a heroin addict that had to be driven by my mother from Florida where we left her at 16, brought to California and put through treatment time and time again. Her problems, drug use, screaming, blaming, fighting, stealing disrupt our ranch house oasis on the mountain. This place that my mom swears avoidance of drugs and "all this" for ME is the reason we moved out here in the first place. She tells me she fights to make my life wonderful and in some ways she does. I have a horse. I love the open mountain spaces and since I had become a lonely and almost always alone with the animals I have learned to make my friends. Sally skips her methadone, robs a shoe store, goes to jail and continues moving forward in this lifestyle at warp speed for the next 2 plus decades. Jail becomes her place of power being funny and beautiful. She has the guards wrapped around her fingers or so she says. I do not doubt it. From time to time she comes home stays a while strange men show up at the house. Fred blows his top and ever is my mother in the middle either screaming what they are doing to her or flipping to making some lame joke where her laugh is not even human. If something is spilled the ever over her shoulder dishtowel makes sure it gets wiped up even if that means getting on her hands and knees between Sally and my step father and quite possibly being doused with a pitcher of iced tea. When a strange car comes and Sally disappears the fight continues between Fred and my mother. I climb inside myself or go outside, to my room or under my bed. I avoid closets the reason why I will talk about in a bit. The television goes on...Gunsmoke or Perry Mason. The volume is deafening. Fred cannot hear well. This drives my mother crazy through gritted teeth she demands he turn it down. Gradually it goes back up.
Walking down the long hallway of our house my bones feel brittle and it always feels far later than it is. The three of us might end up eating dinner which is fast and silent. We three go our separate ways. I lay on the couch. Most nights I fall asleep there, some night left, some night moved to my room.
These early years of elementary school and Jr. High are the worst years of my life to date. I am over flowing with fear. Fear of the other girls who have wonderful families. Fear that I am too tall. Fear that I am the new girl. Fear that there is no way to hide that I do not have any girlfriends and spend most lunch times hiding in the bathroom or hanging on the far outside of groups that hardly see me there. I have to wait for the late bus each day because of where we live so the day drags on an hour longer than for most. I am painfully shy. I cannot speak in class. I cry when I am called on. My stomach twists and turns and the only time I feel near normal is P.E. because I am good at most of the sports we have to play. In 7th grade I am voted "Most Valuable Player" by my classmates and teacher for my soccer prowess. It floors me that they noticed me at all. I cry like a baby and the other girls get a bit confused at the outburst.
So it begins. The absolute fear and anxiety that are my ever present companions deep inside my stomach. My nerves always at the ready to run. A stronger and stronger wall built around my heart.
I am closing off. My energy is changing and like a magnet in reverse I am slowly and steadily backed away from the swirl of life. I observe and try to make sense of all the pieces inside me. But, I know, absolutely know I will never be loved, never be heard and never be supported. I am invisible....
Virginia makes contact with me. She lives in NYC and has for some time. She invites me to come and stay with her on one condition that I find and bring her coveted photo of her with our sister in some pretend great moment of reality. It is a deal breaker...if the picture can't be brought than you cannot come. I get a copy and I go, not 6 months out of high school and I go...I am 17.
Today is my birthday. October 5, it has a great ring to it...
