Wherever this goes

After all this time it still hurts if I dwell on it. I was recently watching a tv show where a guy was mad his mother lied about who his father was for twenty three years. It started me thinking about my own father and his lack of participation in my life. I’ve come a long way with my emotions in regards to this, but it’s still a sore spot. The absence of a father in my life has made me realize the vital role fathers play in the lives of their children. A child can have the best mother in the world, but in many cases that doesn’t stop the wondering or the questions. I know God allows things to happen for a reason. My sister and brother by my biological dad always share more stories of pain they experienced as children with him than joy.  My sister had to witness the pain he caused her mother and so much more. I must say I had a great childhood. My curiosity about my father didn’t really grow until I hit my teens. I always knew who my father was. He called once or twice.  Overtime, he used distance as an excuse not to take responsibility for me…… Though I don’t always verbalize this, my boyfriend is a great man. Older women have often told him they think he’d make a great husband. But that’s not my point.  As my relationship with my boyfriend has grown over time,  a thought occured to me. ” This must be what it feels like to have a father?” What do I mean by this? My boyfriend by no means treats me like a child. His protective nature made me really think about this. I really begin to sense in my spirit my boyfriend would be a great father. My boyfriend exhibits those qualities that just make for a great father. After carefully watching him in motion overtime, I couldn’t help but think  to myself “Is this what I missed?”………Though I didn’t have this in my life; I’d love to be able to give that to my child or children.

He and I have both had more than our fair share of parent drama. I think this is why we take the creation of a child a bit more seriously than some in our age range. I know what it’s like to wonder. Through him and others I’ve also learned it’s not just enough to be present as a parent but to really be present if that makes sense. And also both parents can be in the lives of a child, but if it’s more dysfunction and chaos sometimes it causes more hurt.  In this very moment I just had an epiphany.  Let me just say I am far from perfect. But who is? Anyhow I digress as usual. I’ve just realized this is why I’ve always been very careful about the guys that I interact with. I know many don’t do this, but even in the dating stages I’d select guys that seemed like good father material. Which is funny considering I didn’t have one of my own. I’ve always thought if this guy impregnanted me would I want a child to look up to him. But it takes a lot for me to consider sex. I’ve never been into the casual sex thing. I think it’s okay if you do it responsibly. But I know I can be emotional and crazy. And I’m not cut out for hits and runs.

Long story short in spite of the pain. My father and his lack of many things has made me stronger. I thank God for the ones that loved me growing up and they love me still. In many cases the lack of a father incites girls to give it up more freely and seek negative attention. For the most part family love and God kept me. Not having my father made me have higher expectations for what I looked for in a man. It’s a long story, too long to convey here. Even my bad high school relationship was more a cry for attention from my mother since she worked a lot during that time. I just find it intriguing that my friends that had both dysfunctional parents present deal with a lot of stuff from guys and interpret dysfunctional as normal. I didn’t have both parents, but what I had was a brother, sister, mom, uncle, grandma, neighborhood friends, and watchers that loved me in a way that set the tone for the remainder of my life. I am proof of the adage of it takes a village to raise a child. No matter where I ventured to on my street, their mother knew my home number or my grandmother’s name. And that is a story worth telling and I will someday. Ok I’m sleepy, maybe edit later..

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Who Is She?

I look in the mirror, confused by what I see

An image of someone; but is that really me?

I think of the little girl within

Now celebrating because of who we’ve become

A mental transformation and a brand new smile

She’s elated because she realizes; it’s been quite awhile

She never knew the challenges we’d face, or the tears we’d shed

She’s elated because she realizes just how far we’ve come

We both take a double glance not quite clear on who this is we see

It’s the same smile, yet it’s a different smile

The battles helped to form she

And it didn’t hurt to have some smiles and laughter along the way

But again we ask who is she?

That little girl within has never died

But now she realizes a woman presides

I can’t escape the sillyness, or the sweetness, or the innocence of that little girl within

We’ve come so far, but when did this woman get in?

We look again and still don’t quite recognize

This is now her we can no longer hide

But when did you get here? And where did you come from?

An invitation perhaps? Or did you sneak in?

Maybe some aliens came in the middle of the night, searched her brain, took all the memories to form a new image of the person she sees

Nooo, I don’t think so

That little girl and I look, for I am she, and she is me

Looking in the mirror staring back at me

Under gone a transformation by the master architect himself

It is in this moment I realize; I have arrived. 😉