Monday, August 5, 2013

Just Because Someone Doesn't Love You the Way You Deserve, Doesn't MeanThey Don't Love You With All They've Got


  I’m looking back at the two previous posts so far, and I’m seeing a pattern begin of me talking about me and not so much about the issue at hand, and the one thing I want to make clear in my endeavors  is the truth about sex trafficking.   I’m sitting here thinking “Shit!  People are going to think I only know how to talk about me!”…which I do do…a LOT, lol.  But here’s the thing: I can’t form a blog, JUST about sex trafficking, and NOT make it about me, because my only experience in the world with sex trafficking, is my own.  And the only way I know how to help anyone else understand my experience, is to tell them my life’s story, literally.  Some days, my writing might be right on point, other days, it’s going to jumbled and emotional, and may even portray the lack of coffee and sleep I’ll be experiencing.  Please be patient, because as we travel through this story together, it’ll eventually all come together, and everything will make sense.

 I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning (my day of the weekend to be up with the kids), drinking coffee, typing away, telling the kids I’m doing homework again, and listening to the Mickey Mouse clubhouse in the back round.  My house is still wrecked and my homework is still untouched!  As a parent these are days I know I’ll never get back once my children are grown, and although they’re still both pretty young, I’m already getting a glimpse into the future.  And holy shit, I am terrified!  My kids, especially my daughter, are crazy.   They are curious, adventurous, mischievous, and they are smart, and they scare the shit out of me!  Everyday they’ve both learned a new thing, and what I’m finding to be a pattern, is that these new trades tend to be awful ideas and tricks about how to get to places in my house that they’re not allowed to be, such as on top of the fridge!  I really won’t be surprised if I’m totally grey before 30.    But alas, even though I’m super tempted to go sit in my closet with my phone and play word games and eat chocolate, I’m going to finish writing this, start cleaning my house, and entertain my children enough that they’ll let me finish what I need to do.  This is not to say that they’ll make any of that easy lol.

 So, today's thoughts:  how do I portray the people in my life, both past and present, keep it clean and politically correct, and try not to get my ass sued for slander??  I don’t think I do.  I don’t really know the law and what actions can be taken against me, I assume there are some though.  The point is, I’m just going to write, and damn the consequences (this seems to be a pattern for me ;) ).  As a parent, I struggle with the issues I have with my own parents.  I spent a long, long time grieving a man who was by no means, a perfect person.  My Daddy was born in Washington DC in 1951, the youngest of 3 children.  He was born into a family, much like the families that surrounded them in their neighborhood.  His family moved to a small neighborhood in Prince Georges County, Maryland when he was a young child, and he spent the next 18 or so years there.  I’d love to say I knew his whole story, but I don’t .  I know what information I’ve gotten from different sources since he’s died and each source has a different version of his story.  So the best I can offer is my compilation of what I know.  I know that shortly after he was born, he contracted meningitis, and became very sick as a baby.  I know that it was assumed throughout his childhood and adolescence, that the meningitis was to blame for his learning disabilities.  I know that he joined the Navy after high school graduation, and that due to his illiteracy, he was discharged after 90-some days of service.  I know that he married a high school friend, possibly a high school sweetheart, and from what I can gather, they weren’t able to stay together due to my father’s alcoholism and both of them being so young.  I know that when my father was about 34, he met my mother, who was about 22.  I know they met in a bar in College Park Maryland, and I know that they were together approximately 2 years before getting married, and married about 2 years before I arrived in the world, as their oldest child. 

 I know that at the very end of his life, that my Daddy loved me, and maybe it wasn’t enough, but it was the only way he knew how.  He really did try to be a good father, to instill values that as a parent, I don’t find necessary, and I think that there are other things that should have been included in his parenting, but I know now that he didn’t know how to teach things he knew nothing about.

  I think that as we go through this journey of my life, it’s going to sound like I’m angry and bitter and resentful about my parents, and it’s going to sound like I lay ALL the blame at their feet, but I don’t.  I am angry, and I DO blame them separately for separate issues, but I do take SOME responsibility for some of my actions.  I leave you today with this thought, and it trails back to yesterday’s post: I was a child when my father died, and I was a child when I found myself using my own body to find the things I felt were lacking in my life, and I was a child when I was exploited and trafficked, by adult men who profited from my body being used by grown men willing to have sex with a child. 

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