A Fly On The Wall

Have you ever heard the idiomatic expression, “A fly on the wall.”?

After the time of my birth I sometimes wonder what it would be like to go back in time, unseen, unheard, and really see how my entrance into this world became the beginning of a slow decent to my own brokenness.

Would I cry?

Would I laugh?

Would I want to forget everything I saw and heard?

How would I react?

How would what I saw change my life?

Honestly, I don’t think I would want to know. I know many questions I have would most likely be answered, but at what cost? Would it help or would it be traumatic? I’m going to have to guess that it would be a little of both.

Here’s what I do know. My parent’s fairy tale marriage didn’t last. I bet you didn’t see that one coming. I was told there was drug use, infidelity, etc. I don’t know what kind of issues my mom or dad were dealing with emotionally or physically, but I do know I found myself at my maternal grandparents house. Yep, those grandparents.

She had left me. They had left me.

 

I was alone.

I do know my dad tried his best to get custody of me. He fought the best he could with little money and resources. My mom’s parents fought for me too. Honestly, looking back I feel like my grandparents motives were not in my best interest. I believe this goes back to my grandfathers pride and greed.  My maternal grandfather had the resources, the money, and the connections. What had my dad done not to deserve his daughter. What had I done?

I went home with them.

My dad had lost me and my mom didn’t want me.

I saw my dad every other weekend. I craved attention from my dad. I desperately wanted to be a daddy’s girl. However, on his weekends he was often out dating, hunting, or working. He soon found a woman that he married. She was pregnant when they wed. She hated me from the beginning. How do I know this? Children know. It was a first marriage for her and I was an unfortunate inheritance. I destroyed her hope for her own family with my dad.

Did he love me?

I needed him!

I needed my father’s love.

Because of that I spent most of my time with his parents. His parents were hard working people. They worked their entire lives and had little money. But the one thing they did have was love. I’m not saying my maternal grandparents didn’t love me. They did, but their love came with so many strings attached. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it is clear now.  It’s still that way to this day. The love I found with  my paternal grandparents was just pure, unconditional love with no strings attached.

This was the beginning of my screwed up sense of love.

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