lillian m. blakey moon_window




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Sunlight on Earth

� Copyright 2006-2021
Sunday, Jul. 17, 2022 - 8:57 pm

=*=


Age 2 1/2, one of a handful of first memories, I remember the greyhound bus station with the tiny TVs attached to the seats. I remember sitting on the bus and my mom was playing with a portable radio. I remember when we got to the shelter and i looked up at the tall Christmas tree and she knelt down to my height and said i may never see my dad or my family again.

At age 2 to 4 I woke up very night to check to make sure my mom was still there because I was sure she was going to leave me. In many ways she did, emotionally. I slept with photos of my relatives under my pillow. My entire childhood I played memory games trying to learn and keep track of who was who.

When I was 4, my mom told me my grandma and grandpa were visiting us. I remember getting dressed in my favorite dress, brushing my hair at least 100 times to be the prettiest I could be, and being excited to see family, who i couldn't even remember. When my mom's adopted dad and step-mother arrived, they took me and my mom shopping, got me a pink, purple, and white big wheels, and started arguing in the store. When we got home Pauline, her step-mom, bent down to look me in the face and told me she never wanted to see me again. They left within the hour. To this day i have no idea what i did wrong. I remember crying and and asking my mom what I did to make my grandma hate me.

He died less than 6 months later, leaving us nothing.

When I was 14, my dad wrote to me through the social security administration. In his letter he didn't know my name. And he said he had been clean off drugs for 3 years. I had 3 siblings, ages 10, 8, and 2. Within the same year I found out he had been prison those 3 years, for drug trafficking, with my siblings and their mother in the car. Across the border...He was lucky he got busted on the US side. My sisters went to foster care, my brother was born in a women's prison, and lived the first 18 months of life in foster care. Everything my dad had said to me in that first letter about him doing well was a complete lie.

My dad's family proceeded to lie as well. One aunt completely disappeared (she went to prison for 3 years for identity theft and stealing money from her workplace which happened to be customer credit cards and identities at the restaurant she was a waitress at). Her husband had stolen his semi truck and also was in prison. My grandmother lied for them, and so did everyone else, because in my family everything is always "fine". They each expected things of me, in strange ways. They assumed i liked rabbits, because they had chosen that animal for me as a baby. They were each abusive in their own ways, except the aunt with early onset dementia.

For my 16th birthday, i didn't get one birthday card or present, no one called me to wish me a happy birthday. weeks later i got a letter from my dad in prison, he stole Lompoc prison magazines and a Bible. I wrote to my siblings and my letters got returned...they had all moved on me without saying anything at all.

Age 18. After two years of my dad in and out of prison, drug treatment facilities, and worsening by adding meth to his drug use and abuse, he called me 40 times in a row, and when i finally answered he threatened to come after me and kill me. I had to cut him off. It was the hardest thing I had experienced to that point. By cutting off my dad i was forbidden from contacting my siblings. I did so anyway. I wrote to my sister's friend's house, after that. She wrote me letters from school.

Age 29, I went to LA for the first time. I couldn't handle it at all. I never contacted my siblings because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it, plus we had no car or real ability to visit for a day.

At age 30 I met my siblings for the first time in my life. One sister was marrying. It was an awkward first time I ever met someone actually related to me. They made it obvious that I was invited but wasn't expected to actually show up. My sister was preoccupied with smoking and her wedding. She was annoyed with me being there.

I visited with two of my siblings two more times, after that. Both visits were awkward. They hated movies I love. they ate really crappy food. Their mom was there for one visit. They were hoarding animals. My brother was acting stoned and took off and stopped visiting without saying anything. He would later tell me he was mad at me.

Age 36. My dad died of complications from huffing 30 years earlier; he died after his lungs could no longer hold oxygen and filled with fluid. It supported the stories my mom told me of catching him in the house covered in glue. After that day my siblings stopped talking to me altogether. They had expected me to drop my life and be with him when he died. I have no memories of him that are good. He tried to be in my life in the last few months before he died...all I could think was that I couldn't handle coming back in just to leave me again...also that i wanted nothing but for him to be in my life all of these years and he wasn't.

Age 37, my siblings made no contact official by stating the clearly false statement "we forgive"...meaning they forgave my dad and I didn't so I am dead to them now. i will never know my nieces.

Age 42...with a lifetime of dealing with my mom's mental illness, paranoia, dissociation, neglect, and not being there for me. She now responds to me to 'go away' when I try to talk to her. This is after she threw out my things, didn't care that my 16 year old cat was dying, and didnt care when I graduated. She has never taken a photo with me, except one time with my AA degree in 2012. She didn't want to go at all. I made the mistake of making her. She protested, but stood for a photo anyway. It will remain the only photo I have of us together since I was 2. In so many ways she died when I was 2. As a child I always felt bad that she didn't want to have a photos of us together.

And with that, I have a lifetime of losing everything...and i just realized I didn't include finding my mom's biological family and them not wanting contact with me...

~e

=*= one day i'll fly away =*=

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