I wanted to be normal like everyone else was. I wanted parents who cared about me and talked to me. I wanted a family that ate dinner at the table, together. I wanted a mother who would talk to me about my issues with friends, and my feelings, and boys. I wanted to have nice clothes and shoes. I wanted a birthday party. I wanted to have a nice room, where everything matched. I wanted to have friends over, and I wanted to be asked over to friends’ houses. I wanted us to have a nice, normal car. I wanted to be proud of my family, of my parents, of my siblings. I mean, I thought “this is what everyone else has, why can’t my life be like theirs? Why can’t we be “normal”?”
You see, my family was fairly poor. I grew up in suburban Atlanta. My dad always worked hard, but was not educated. My mother never worked outside the home. She was always there, but never “there”. We rented small houses, which we crammed into. I usually shared a room with my brother who was 4 years younger. Our house was a wreck. Always. And my father, when he was not at work, had a volatile temper, and you never knew what would blow his fuse. I remember going to the store and trying on clothes and putting them on “hold” hoping my dad would give me the money to buy them. Instead I had to take bags from outside the Goodwill trailer.
When I was old enough, I got my first job as a bagger for a farmers market, and then as a waitress at a breakfast restaurant. These were the summer before I turned 12. Finally, I could at least look normal, I could buy myself some decent clothes. I still only had a handful of friends who I would ask over to my house and me over to theirs.
When I got pregnant at 15 and married my sweet husband, I think in the back of my mind I thought, “NOW I can have a normal life”. Somehow, my life could never seem normal like everyone elses. Everyone else had it together. Everyone else had a job. Everyone else had a place to live (we lived my in-laws twice). Crazy thing was, I really thought that everyone else was normal and I was not. And I wanted to do what I could to be normal. So I would put on my normal face and pretend, that everything was ok and I was “cool’. I mean, I just wanted to fit in with everyone who was normal.
Now I’, 40 something and finally cane to the conclusion that we ARE ALL NORMAL. Everyone is all messged up, we are all cut for the same Colette. I beloved that en chase allow the things that have happened in the past.
That’s all for today! I have Jury Duty 8:30-