From a very early age, I knew the risks associated with telling a lie. I remember my mother saying (on more than one occasion), "Whatever you do... DON'T lie to me!" I'm not sure if it was her tone or just the subliminal fear she whispered with her eyes, but I had no interest in ever finding out. When I got older; I realized that, whenever I did try and pull a fast one, I almost always got caught (almost)--and the wrath of my mothers punishments were never worth those few glorious moments of deliberate chaos.
When I turned 18, I knew it was time for me to move on. I was ready to free myself from all the negativity and drama that had woven its ugly blend of unmatched fabric into my psyche, like an outdated quilt made by a blind crack whore. Shortly after graduation, I stuffed my tiny car with everything I held dear, including my best friend Jenefer, and disappeared from the uptight roads of the Midwest into the slow and sultry streets of Atlanta. Alas... I had finally arrived home.
I didn't think I was "running away" from my problems back then; in fact, I'm pretty sure I was unaware I even had any. It wasn't until around 1994 or so, when I awoke from a 14 year, self-inflicted coma, that I realized I needed to clear some things up in my own head. Only those of us daring enough to embark upon this journey could truly appreciate the lengthy, consuming and painfully confrontational nature of this process. We are also the rare breed of cold-hearted, cynics that refuse to participate in unhealthy relationships... at least that's what the other half believes.
2011 was the year of my awakening; it opened up the most excruciatingly painful, yet poetically freeing, chapter of my 44 year old story-in-the-making. Despite the significant hardships I've suffered, I have never felt more at peace in my life, and I can now join in the peculiar smile of the enlightened... an elite group I once thought untouchable. Of all the lessons I've learned in life, none hold a candle to the simplicity of truth. Sometimes, the truth can be he hardest thing to face. The last place that anyone suffering wants to look is in a mirror, but doing so will open up a vast door of endless possibility and a permanent state of emotional freedom that can never be found anywhere else.
I lost my brother this year. No, it's not like that... he's alive and well, living in a forgotten time. I don't know if I'll ever see him again, but my guess is that he is reading this right now wondering the same. It is a sad thing to walk away from family, but when turmoil runneth over, there is really no other choice... especially when tiny ears linger nearby. It took me nearly 40 years to get complete and, if I play my cards right, my daughter will never know what it is to be incomplete. Call me a bitch. Call me cold-hearted, but don't ever call me a liar and know that when the sun goes down and the lights are low, I'm reading Green Eggs and Ham to the happiest little girl I've ever known, so I must be doing something right.