Saturday, October 16, 2010

The power of words

I never knew my mother, even though I lived with her and my stepfather for 10 years. My mother and father separated and divorced when I was three years old. Because of a bout of strep throat, (my drunk aunt and uncle couldn't be bothered to check on me). I nearly died because of their lack of responsibility. I was sent to live with my grandparents for five years. When I was eight years old, my mother remarried a very disassociated man, who, as soon as possible after my mother got pregnant, divorced me. After all, I wasn't a member of HIS famiy. My mother supported his disassociation with me, because, I think that she didn't want to fail at another relationship. She always ran my real father down, because, after all she was the one who requested the divorce. I finally found my real father, when I was 23 years old. He showed me the divorce papers. In them, it stated that he was the one who requested the divorce because of my mother's proven infidelity. I found out then why my middle name was what it was. She had given me the middle name of her lover.

When I left our family home to join the Army, she told me I would never amount to anything. My whole life was spent, all 55 years since then, trying to prove her wrong. Instead, her prophecy turned out to be right.