Blog "30"

Hey everyone! I just turned 30 years old! I wasn’t willing to accept that at first but I have come to grips that I (as my father would say it) am another decade old! Any remaining sadness about that fact will hopefully be washed away during today’s consumption of adult beverages 😉

I took Friday off with my husband to embrace myself reaching this milestone. I have never taken a day off just because it was my birthday but something is different this year. What’s different is that I am gratified. I am not fulfilled but I am content in where I’m at in my life. You all know of me but only very few know who I was. My life did not begin subtly; in fact, it was a nightmare.

My children were born and I cared for them, loved them and protected them as much as I could as a mother and I will continue to do so. I may not always listen to them but I hear them and if anything is concerning, I address it. They play, they have friends, they have minimal chores such as cleaning their room and taking out the trash and they have little to no worries in life. They know they are going to eat, get new shoes and clothes every couple of months and be prepared for any activity they take on. They get disciplined as needed and that’s not very often because my husband and I have laid down the foundation already. They are children and I am their mother.

After turning 30, I woke up this morning and as I was getting ready for whatever my husband had planned for us I reflected. I first felt sadness, then I felt pleased and ultimately, I felt happy. That childhood that my daughters and son are experiencing is not one of my own. It is one my husband and I have created for them. I mean, sure, they’re not as self-sufficient as we were growing up and they need us more than we needed our parents. But that’s because we have been nurturing.

I reflected on my life after I was born – and this is the less detailed, brief version. My memories don’t go that far back but I remember a lot of pain and fear. There were occasional happy moments like family gatherings around the holidays, when my uncle would come home from the military and times when my mother decided to put us first and maybe play a game or movie. But it was a larger sum of awful in the beginning. I felt pain from those I thought loved me, I hid in the back, dark room praying I wouldn’t be found, I made up stories of where the bruises came from. I endured pain that I shouldn’t have only because I entered the world free from any sin of my own.

My mother and father didn’t get along too well and so those memories were pretty bleak. I was sent to live with my grandmother, away from my siblings.

My grandmother was tough. I had to stand on a chair, learn to cook, wash dishes, iron clothes, fold clothes (retailer style), and hang clothes to dry outside on the line (while the ticks from our overly high grass sucked on my legs – it’s okay, we’d just pull them off later). God forbid she found a single dish with a smudge on it. She’d take down all the dishes we had in the cabinet for me to stand on a chair and wash all over again. I was in elementary school. When she wasn’t working me, she was admiring me. She would sing and dance with me. Pray with me when going to bed. Sometimes she would take me to work with her at the banks she cleaned at night and I would steal people’s M&Ms they had sitting in a bowl on their desks. As a kid I figured they were put there just for me. Those were the good times. Not ideal but nothing compared to what was happening to me the other half of the time. A monster lived with us and I would hide from him, but he’d always find me. Sometimes he’d convince me to play games that didn’t end up being very fun. My grandmother didn’t allow me to have friends. If kids came over to ask if I could play she would tell them to leave her property then turn to me and tell me they are all bad influences. I now believe she didn’t want me to tell them about the monster. For a couple of years that monster tormented me, until I finally got to go back home to my mom and dad.

Beginning in middle school I had the responsibility of caring for my siblings. I had to help be the parent. Mom worked a lot and so did dad. Sometimes Mom came home frustrated or maybe her and dad were in a fight – I would pay for that. She would turn something small into something major enough to punish me physically for. But only if dad wasn’t around. I don’t think he really knew what she would do when he wasn’t around and she had the urge to feel powerful and release some stress. When he was home I was safe.

Dad left mom. After 14 years of marriage he left her. He left us too. He left us with a person who he thought would continue to take care of us the way he thought she always had. I felt abandoned. No longer would I have safe moments from the times he was home. I hated him and blamed him for whatever came next.

Luckily for me, mom didn’t focus too much on me after that. She had her own mourning to do in her own way; in the bars and in the clubs, eventually, bringing home a young boyfriend who was as mature as my little brother. That’s where our money went – to her thriving wardrobe, gifts for the young beau and fast food dinners, dinners they would have while we had nothing in the refrigerator. We feared mom so we didn’t say much but one day I felt desperate. All we had in the refrigerator was a bag of flour (we had to keep it there so that no critters got inside). I was pretty good with compromise, I could make a meal out of very few items – I had to. But this day there was nothing. So, I got the courage, as she walked in with her boyfriend and a bag of Jack in the Box, to tell her that we had nothing. Her response as she walked back to her room was “tell your father, he’s the one not paying child support”. I would find out later in life with proof of receipts that she got plenty of child support. The struggle we endured was unnecessary.

She said this in front of my new boyfriend who looked at us in pity. I was embarrassed and was pretty sure this guy wouldn’t stay around for long. Our family was too dysfunctional. Instead, he stepped up and would later become my husband. When I say he changed my life that is no understatement. He took me to the store and we went grocery shopping with money he made from being a bus boy at Bill Millers. We bought a bag of chicken, bread, eggs and other small necessities. Mom complained he didn’t buy enough. I told her he didn’t have to buy any of it. She told me I was being brainwashed by him because I would never talk back to her like that before. But it wasn’t that, I was just gaining confidence to speak my mind. Fear kept me quiet but as I got older and my boyfriend supported me, I decided to speak.

Mom pushed her relationship with her young beau to become abusive. I do not condone any domestic violence and I don’t believe any woman should be blamed for being abused but I witnessed it. I witnessed my mom push and hit this man until he decided to fight back. I was confused and didn’t know who to feel sorry for, her or him? My little brother couldn’t handle it – this broke him. He wanted to protect her but was too small to. One night we watched out the window as mom’s beau gave her a strong slap to the ground, my little brother ran out yelling and crying for him to leave her alone. My boyfriend asked me if I wanted him to handle it? I told him no. I only asked that he go and get my little brother so we can console him. But there is nothing that we can do to help her – this is the drama she thrived on. I didn’t want to fuel it by getting by boyfriend involved. Besides, she had recently asked my older stepbrother to leave when he decided to stand up to her beau and fight him (they were about the same age anyways).

It may have been a bleak time but my boyfriend and I decided to make light of our days in that home. We would play games, watch movies, play basketball outside with the kids in the neighborhood that decided to hang with us; neighboring girls decided to hate me for no apparent reason – seriously, they had no good reason they just decided to target me as someone to hate, spread rumors about and call names. As you can see, I had much more to worry about than petty jealousy from high school girls so normally I didn’t mind being alone. I joined cheerleading to keep me occupied and in school. My boyfriend did whatever he could to distract us from the negativity. When mom refused to pay for one of my sister’s field trips, he gave her the money because once again she said to “call your father”. My brother and sister saw us as parents all the way up to the time I got pregnant and decided to move out. We left them and eventually they left her. They went to go live with my dad – she didn’t stop them. She wanted the pity that came with it, but she really didn’t try and stop them.

My boyfriend and I had to really grow up now. We had to work, figure out bills and figure out our relationship. We no longer had the distraction of my siblings. We started out in a one bedroom, income-based apartment. I was immature and insecure; he was stubborn and a hot-headed Aries and also a Rector (If you’re a Rector you cannot deny what I am saying). There were plenty of arguments and fights and we had to survive our relationship. It was tough. But we continued to push and thrive to make our lives better. We separated a couple of times during our relationship but ultimately, we knew we were meant to be together, as cliché as that sounds. He had a similarly difficult life himself and we understood each other. Our ultimate goal was to finish our family and buy a house.

For any of you who have kept up with my blogs thus far, you’d know that this year we accomplished that and it was no easy task. Leroy Jr. snuck in and it was a war to get our house. But we did it!

There is so much more that I’ve gone through in these 30 years of living, but I’ll save that for the book I’m going to write. That’s a serious joke. I’ve had 2 friends in particular that helped me keep my sanity in high school while I was going through this; one who helped keep me afloat in cheerleading and another whose home was always open to me when I wanted to get away. Then there was Leroy, my boyfriend who I married and is our superhero. I’ve worked my way up into an awesome law firm with the best coworkers and bosses around. I also make a decent living for my hard work. I am content with where my life is right now and if I died tomorrow, I would have no regrets. I don’t know about you, but this is the goal I have wanted to reach and I’ve done it, at 30 years old.

If you watched my video prior to reading this than you know that this is in no way a means to bash my mother, she has amnesia and doesn’t remember any of it (this is said with sarcasm). I didn’t give up on my mother, she left me no choice. She never admitted to most of the things she did in our lives and she never accepted responsibility. She denies everything. I forgave her for everything anyways and started over with her – she created additional problems. When I made my decision, she told me that my children would suffer the consequences for not having their grandmother in their lives – they are just fine.

This is in no way a means to tarnish any image of my grandmother you may have had of her. The monster has gone through the legal system and is no longer around. I forgave my father and he is one of the loves of my life whom I cannot imagine life without, in fact his wife (my stepmother) is one of my best friends. I gained additional siblings who I love as much as my own. I gained an aunt who is so funny and beautiful and has also seen me through my growth. My life is good and while I wouldn’t want to repeat any of it, if this is what I had to go through to get me where I’m at, then it was worth it.

I don’t need pity because I won’t pity you for what you’ve gone through in your life. Trust me, I know you have all gone through something in your lives. This is not a competition. We are all beautiful creatures who endure pain and some are made stronger from it. Some are affected by it. My mother is not a bad or evil person, she is a wounded person. She has her own story for why she is the way that she is. I’m sure my grandmother had her own story. Everyone has a story – I do not hate anyone because of this.

I only hold responsibilities for myself. I decided not to continue the cycle of pain and to raise my children differently, this included cutting certain people out of my life to be successful in doing so. I am a strong and happy woman. I am a grateful wife. I am a proud mother. I am a loyal friend. This is all that I’ve asked for in life and if you’re a part of it, thank you.

If you made it to the end of this blog, then you have learned a great deal about me but guess what? You still don’t know my story and you never will because it’s something you have to live. Go live your story and no matter how it began, work towards the best ending you can!

With much love, Crystal