My father was and is a very strict, rightwing, religious man and he always said there was an addictive spirit on my mother's side of the family and to be careful not to make the same choices my mother made... Part of me thinks this was part of his oh so righteous plan to keep me from my mother's side of the family.
They divorced when I was three. And he had a way of making her out to be the bad guy but, the truth is that, there is addiction on both sides of my family. My Father and his relatives have plenty of shadows that are left unspoken of at family reunions...
My Mother, on the other hand, was the light of my life. The joy she created in my very sweet child hood radiated like her spirit; Warm, sunny, soft and full of laughter. She was easy to get along with but, don't get me wrong, you didn't want to fuck with her family or what was a sweet, innocent loving woman became a bat out of hell. She's always had a tough side to her. Im glad to have inherited that.
Her family life was lacking in the area of emotional presence and support, much like how my life ended up as a result of her going away. She had an addiction to meth. She would do good for a few years, three years she could be clean. Then it would take her under and I wouldn't see her again. She went to prison when I was about 4 years old.
Until now, at 23 years old, she has been in and out of prison. Three years has been a repetitive mark for her, and now that her health is failing her and she has two grand children, she's finally decided herself, "too old for that bull shit". Yup, that's my mum.
I hated her, y'know, for a long time. For not being there. For choosing drugs over me and my sister. For destroying our family with her selfish choices... But one day that all changed.
I ran away from home, my step mother and father wouldn't let me be with a boy I fell head over heels for. I was 15. I was supposed to meet him somewhere and I walked 10 miles in the rain to meet him. When I reached the meetup location, I called to see where he was; he told me to go home. My parents had called the police, they knew he was involved and he didn't want to go to jail.
Cold, drenched, alone and hard as stone, I called the only person I knew couldn't judge me or belittle me. I called my mom. She had a car at the time and had been out of prison for a couple years. She wasn't far, maybe 10 minutes drive and she came to pick me up. She fed me, bathed me and clothed me. And she waited for ME to be ready to call my father and step mom to let them know I was safe and tell them where I was. She listened to my story, my thoughts and my beliefs. And told me I was right for what I believed in and that, unfortunately, I was just too young to move out and pursue my dreams yet but not to give up on them. And that meant a lot to me.
Legally, I couldn't stay with my mother until I was 18 years old. I wanted to stay with her, I couldn't stand living at home anymore. But there was no way to do that without the consent of my father. Which he would not agree to it over his dead body. And rightly so. My mother went to prison about a year later for more drug charges when I was 16.
But this time was different. I didn't get mad, I didn't write her any mean letters. I was disappointed, of course, but something happened the day I called my mom to come get me. I saw her, I really saw her. And saw my self at the same time.
Her apartment was full of color, stuffed animals, she even had a sexy poster of Eminem in her bathroom and had a music video album DVD of No Doubt, Gwen Stephani, who became one of my favorite singers. She kept a baseball bat by her door and a one of those older style TVs with the clear plastic frame so you can see the electrical insides.
She told me her story, one of the first times I actually got to hear about her childhood. Her mother was a raging alcoholic and her father was kind but I never heard much about him. My mother has one older sister and two older brothers. As the youngest, she was never reared or spanked or punished in a physical manner and she showed my sister and I the same mercy which my father lacked completely. Her father's side of the family was thoroughbred Irish and her mother's side, polish.
She skipped school a lot with a couple best friends, one of which was killed in a car accident, and the other one stays in contact to this day. She grew up on the east coast in Kingsburg, NJ. Any time she was caught with a boy, her brothers or father would chase him off so she never got to truly date anyone until she was 17 and 18 years old. She also took a road trip to Cali with a guy friend when she was in her early 20's, just like I did with Corey, my husband. Her older sister, my aunt, lives in Cali with her husband and they have two sons. We've been able to visit quite a few times and the energy of California pulls me in like a magnet.
I never understood why they were married for seven years without killing each other, they were so completely different. Apparently the drugs brought them together and the drugs brought them apart. She couldn't give it up and my dad became holy since he did.
The other night I had another breakdown that left me feeling much like I did that day I ran away. Recently I realized one of my psychological twitches was actually a thing, like an addiction. I have an addiction to relationships. Teal Swan wrote a nice long blog about this the other day, you can read it yourself, I tried to get the link but it's not working for me. If you are interested, read her blog titled "My Raw Yet Pristine Paragon". I just love the way she writes. Such an artist!
This is called "Attachment Addiction" and if you know anything about the nature of addiction, you know that addiction can happen with anything from chocolate to porn, drugs, food, coffee, work, and even relationships. So I called the only person who I thought would understand and who couldn't judge me or belittle me... I called my mom.
I told her that, just like she was addicted to the only thing that made her feel good, meth, I was addicted to the only thing that made me feel good, relationships/attachments. My mother has been in and out of my life for 23 years. That took a toll on my young, fragile mind and I think, in some way through my addiction, I've been searching for my mommy. That fractured part of me, that little child who just wanted to know where mommy went, has been crying out in all of my relationships. And it makes sense to me now why my relationships have always turned out so badly.
The reason I say that I have an addiction to relationships is because once I started having relationships, I never wanted to be without one. I would go to great lengths to secure a relationship and even once I had one, I would lead other boys along to make sure that there would be someone waiting for me on the other side.. in case things went wrong. For a long time, the longest amount of time I would be single averaged around one week. Sometimes only a day or two days would go by before I had another boy to claim me, when in reality, I had claimed him and twisted fate to make him chase me...
Mind you, I was only in high school, and I wasn't technically allowed to date guys but, y'know, at school you can pretend and get away with a lot more than you would think. I smoked weed, cigarettes, skipped school, had sex in school... lol some of my best friends don't even know that. But since my parents were so strict, I had to live it up somewhere. Now to think of it, at least at school I was in a much less dangerous environment than out of school going to parties and shit.
Now that I am married, my addiction doesn't really mesh well with my life style. It's been causing all sorts of unexpected problems on a personal level and between me and Corey. I'm just glad that I've been able to understand what the core issue is and the more I let myself explore that part of me, the more I can love my self and the more I can recover, so to speak, and begin living a normal life.
The other, dangerous part of this addiction is, I still try to woo men. It's not a conscious effort. My subconscious mind has become a master at this, to where it is nearly effortless to get someone to look at me... That's dangerous to my marriage. Can you see how this could be very damaging to my marriage and to Corey?
For a long time I've tried suppressing and getting rid of this aspect of me but through all the torture it still lives and still drives me mad and still tries to secure other possible matches. That is just NOT ok. Even though at one time that was a great survival technique to getting my needs met, my needs have changed with my life but the problem is that that part of my mind has not changed at all. This is where I need help.
My mother understood completely and even said that I was already on the road to recovery since I am seeing the addictive behaviour. That's the first step.
See, suppressing the part of me that is so masterful at captivating and wrangling up mates doesn't make it go away. In fact, it just causes other problems. Like this completely explains my social anxiety. I never used to have social anxiety until I decided that part of me was bad... But if I never thought it was bad, I would never have been a match to marriage. I would have kept attracting random people and getting my self in to unmatched relationships all because I needed to not be alone.
Now I can see how that part of me really helped me survive on an emotional level, but as my life has changed, I need that part of me to resign, to retire. But for that part of me to feel comfortable enough to resign, so to speak, there are some things that I need to do to show that I no longer need it for my survival and protection.
That part of me does not trust Corey. Since the most important people in my life have always been transient, absent or impermanent, why would he be any different? Well, that's a valid thing to think. But it's been two and a half years and Corey has stuck with me thru hell and back, several times, I really don't think he's goin' anywhere! I know he is youthful and full of energy, he has some very strong views and ideas, his beliefs are different from most other's and isn't like any other guy I've every been with. Those are not bad qualities because those are the reasons I'm married to him!
Corey also has a very sensitive nature to him, and is very loving and caring. It really hurts him when others get hurt and when he is misunderstood by those he loves. He will tolerate, but if you mess with people he cares for, it can be dangerous. But he is intelligent and prefers to win battles with words and artistic expression of his ideas. That's a good thing because I can know beyond any doubt that he would never physically hurt me. And that's a great quality.
He will accept any one, but wants the same in return. He does not discriminate and treats others with equal respect until he is disrespected. Even then, however, he will still show kindness and forgiveness to those who disrespect him or belittle him. He is not afraid of confrontation but is afraid to lose the ones he loves.
Come to think of it, he sounds a lot like my mom :) They do have a lot in common...
Well there you have it... What a resolution. Perhaps now I can have some peace and the torn side of me can rest in peace, knowing I will be well taken care of.
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