Thursday, December 8, 2011

As Real As It Gets

When I was in second or third grade, I remember swinging all alone on a tire swing during recess on the play ground. I was swinging away, swaying my legs back and forth,it was slightly overcast outside. I could see all the other kids running around, climbing the monkey bars, swinging on swings, each intently busy doing one thing or another, and it all seemed very important. Next thing I know, Im starting at the little rocks on the ground, that filled the entire playground and it hit me for one of the very first times, “ Im alive, and this is real.” Everything slowed down, and I was soaking in each detail, and the voices of my class mates, yelling inaudible things. “ I'm alive and this is real.” I could feel my body, “what is this anyways?”

During that time in my life, I had been in foster care. I had been bounced around to at least 6 different homes by that point. This was before the foster care system had changed. They held the opinion that no child should be in a home longer than 6 months, because they feared the child would get attached to the family. Little did they know the depths of the consequences it would have on a child and their ability to form attachments to people, or their ability to feel content. Before that, I had felt like I was going through life like a story, as in, I was the main character, but some how distant from the story, watching the story unfold, at times it was very strange. I was taken from my parents at the age 7 because of their heroin addiction. I watched them struggle with it, fight it, and lay awake for hours and hours through the night screaming from the pain of not having it. Often times I would take the roll as parent, trying to comfort my parents from the pain, or shield them from curious people who would knock on our door, wondering what was going on, and trying to find out if everything was alright. I wasn't abused by my parents, and somehow, I always had food, but most of the time, I was alone.

melissawithdaddy 

I was in hotel room the night everything changed. My dad was away at the time, in jail I believe, our house was being “remodeled” or at least that was what I was told, and there we were, late at night in a hotel room, my mom unable to get her fix, shrieking, crying, curled up in a ball. There was a knock on the door, looking back I realize it was the hotel manager. I didn’t know if I should open it or not, but I did. “Is everything ok in here?”  “yeah, my mom is just sick right now.'” I remember the wary look on his face, filled with concern, looking over my shoulder, into the room, to see what was going on. The next morning, two clean cut people came to the door, one woman, one man. They requested to speak with me. “would you like to come with us while your mother gets well, she's very sick right now.”  At age 7, I some how knew what that meant, and there was no way in hell, I wanted to leave her, sick and alone without my dad. “ No I dont.”  “We have some toys in our car that you can take a look at and see if you want.”  “ No, I want to stay with my mom.” Im not sure how many days or weeks, or time in general that went by, before my mother and I were stepping into a court room, then I was stepping out, without my mom. I was left with the cloths on my back and a medium sized container with a few Barbie's. To this day, that's all I have left of that time during my life. I never went back home.  I remember the countless nights, I laid in bed, crying for my mom, yelling “ I wanna go home!”  I yelled it for so long, for so many years it seemed. Even after both my  mother and father died, I would just think, “ I wanna go home.” Even now, when I get really sad, some how that track has been etched, and the record flips on, “ I just wanna go home.” even though, that home no longer exists.

          melissagrandmamom

It still happens now and again, when Im just walking, or doing some odd daily task, and I realize, “Holy shit, Im alive.” I think we all ponder reality and what it is. When I had just turned 21, I was at a friends birthday party, and for one reason or another, I had been upset with my now, husband, but at the time, my off and on boyfriend. His cousin and I were swinging on wooden swing, in an evening of early August. The air was warm, and their was ( in all reality, without trying to be a cliché) a slight breeze. Such a odd time to be frustrated. I was unloading my problems on him, talking about different issues, when he stopped me in mid sentence. “You have created this.” I was a little shocked and offended. “ Are you saying this is all my fault?” “No, I mean, you create your own reality, you really have NO control over anything outside of you, the pain you went through as a child, the loss of your parents, your struggles in your relationship, how other people treat you, the only world you do have control over is up here.” He points to his head. “This is your world, and you chose how you see it.”

That moment, as small and short as it was, changed my life, and though at times I still struggle with the concept, its still something I will always remember even when I chose to not follow that advise. I cant change the past, I cant change the mistakes others made with me, I cant change my mistakes, but I can move forward from them and I can chose how I perceive them, will they be tools for the future, lessons learned, or will they be a grave I did, and a misery I damn my own self to? I look back at that little girl on the tire swing, who at such a young age had been through so much, but still knew so little. The concept of reality will always be a journey, and the biggest journey for me, has been a journey from powerless, to powerful. Regardless of the many theories of reality, which are all very intriguing, there is one thing that is very true. We can all change our world, our reality, but it first starts in our own perception, and every time that sense of realness hits me, and Im stopped in my tracks and think to myself “ Dear god, I am alive, so very alive, and this IS REAL.”  I see that powerless little girl, who had her world shaken at the hands of others, then I see myself now, and the opportunities ahead, even if the world falls apart around me, Ill know Im still in control, because reality starts in our heads.

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