Not Sure How to Title This

I was thirteen the first time I wanted to take my life. I was headed down the road on my back as there was a train track at the top of the hill and I had heard a train was coming. I had gotten into a fight with my mom and I found out my dad again broke his promise about coming out to see us. Us as in my sister and I.  My parents divorced when I was around 7. I remember that, because I got a Cabbage Patch Kid doll as a result of it. I really didn’t understand divorce at the time since my dad was hardly around anyways. See, I was a Navy brat. He would call a couple of times a year, came back to visit and actually took us to his home in Maine when I was 10 on Spring Break. Promised to come back and get us later that Summer to go on a boat. Still waiting for that boat ride. I am 35.

Back to the bike ride and train. I have always had a fascination with trains. I just love the sound they make, how fast they can go etc…  They are so majestic to me, even back then as pimply fat teenager. My friends lived on that street. Well, evidently they were outside and saw me ride by, but I didn’t stop. Dad, as I call him, he was always so good to me. He’d cuss out his own kids, but me, he was sweet to. Unless I bad-mouthed him. Then I got a cussing too. Anyways, I guess they could tell something was not right with me. So dad followed me. I guess he realized that I was fixing to get run over by a train. I was so close too. I was on the track and the train was coming pretty fast. Boy did he cuss me out that day, all the way home to my moms. Back home to the cardboard apartments we called home for so many years.

My mom I am sure cared, but once dad left, she went back to watching something on tv. She babysat those early years. I never ran out of people to play with either. Anyways, the tv was always on, and she was always in her chair smoking a cigarette and staring at the tv. She was aways watching that stupid tv. I guess that is where I get my laziness from. I love my mom, don’t get me wrong. She just wanted kids, but once she had them, she did not know what to do with them. Except buy lots of Barbie’s and make their clothes for them.

I have never felt like I fit in. Not now, not when I was 13. At 13, I also had my first boyfriend. His name was Herbie and he was 18 and a senior in high school. My mom liked him so much, she was talking about our wedding like it was going to be happening sooner than later. We dated for a long while, broke up, then dated again for a bit. We never did sleep together, though I am sure he wanted to. Especially after I had my daughter Casey. I was 16 when I had Casey. I had met her dad the Summer before and he was 23. I was 15. He had been in and out of jail for a while by then. He was older and was a “bad boy”. He said all the right things. Did all the right things. Made me feel like I actually mattered for the first time in my life. Eric was my love. I loved that man like no other. I allowed him to control me. If Eric didn’t like it, I didn’t do it. Even when he was in jail, I still allowed him to dictate my life. My mom allowed Eric to move in with us the year I turned 16. He had just gotten out of a 4 month stint in the county lock up. It was rough. He became abusive. I was not allowed to go to school, or, if I was sick, I was not allowed to stay home. He was a drug addict and many nights we “borrowed” moms car and went to Rochester to Broad and Brown to get his crack. He would smoke it and I would drive to the exit that we got off on. He then would drive home. I found out I was pregnant on June 1. He was so thrilled. I wasn’t. I never wanted kids. I babysat, but did not really like them.

I felt Casey kick one night. I was laying in my bed and Eric was at work. I felt her kick. It was the weirdest and the greatest feeling in the entire world. I wanted her then.

Eric got picked up by the cops in December. December 5th. I remember it like it was yesterday. Detective Mullen knew my Uncle Kenny. So I wasn’t arrested. I could have been. I still kinda shake about it now. Casey was due in January and here it was December about to be locked up. Anyways, Eric got 8 years in prison and for the first year, I still lived by all his rules. No friends, no going anywhere. Blah Blah…. I was going to give Casey up. Till I met her. I fell in love. I kept her. 18 years later, I am still glad I kept her.

I never felt like I fit in, I know, I said that earlier. But I want to get back to that. I never fit in. Not with my friends who all smoked or did drugs. All that we had in common was music. We all loved the big hair bands, and rock and roll.It kinda defined us. Sure I had a couple of good friends in my life. But, I never really fit in with them. I never fit in with my family either. I was not Kathy’s children or Kenny’s children. I was Carol’s daughter. Like that was a bad thing. My grandmother often said to me, I would be pretty if I lost some weight. Or, why can’t you be smart like D. Why can’t you be quiet like K. Like K was ever really quiet. In my family, it was a big thing when you turned 21. The Aunts took you out to the bar. My cousins before me went. My cousin after me went. My sister and I never went. I waited for the call to go out. I guess I am still waiting for that call. I have only ever been to the bar with my family once and that was for my aunts after wedding reception reception. Boy was she drunk. I was not invited. I just happen to come along.Why should I care about going to a bar. It isn’t about the bar, it was the family thing to do. And the family didn’t do it with me. I still feel left out. 35 years old and still feeling like I am left out. Looking through the window of everyone else having fun. It wasn’t till my grandmother died did I feel like my family actually cared. I got a phone call by a certain cousin who has never called me just to say hi. If he was calling, there was a reason and it was always short and to the point. I actually stayed with my cousin K and had so much fun, despite the funeral, despite I had a horrid case of menstrual issues. I felt like I finally mattered and belonged. But, those feelings never really stay. At least mine don’t.

I have thought about killing myself many times over the years. When Jonah was around 2, I tried again. We lived in this one stoplight kinda town. Our home was like 6 feet from the track. When it came by, you could touch it. I would not recommend that by the way. Anyways, there I was laying down on the track waiting for it to come when Jamie came home and found me. Obviously took me off that track.  It was rough for a bit. Life goes on. I thought about it a few times since, but never acted on it since.

I just want to feel like I belong somewhere. Be someone. Feel loved, be loved. I know my husband and my children love me. I know it should be enough. I just feel like Jamie is just here, to keep me alive. But does he love me?? Maybe not in the way I want. And no, I ma not talking about in those romance books. I don’t want him to sweep me off my feet. I would break his back for crying out loud.


I want to feel like I belong to my family. And not be just Carol’s daughter. I want to be called to go to the bar….. not that I want to go to a bar, but I think you know what I mean. I don’t call either. I don’t want to bother anyone. I don’t want to be a burden and that is how I feel when I talk to any of them. I feel like I am so kind of bother to them.

I can’t stand me. I can not stand the way that I look, the way that I act, how I am lazy. How I holler at my children and how I tend to ignore them. I want my husband to want me. I hate being in my skin. I hate being me. I think that is why I want to work out so bad and why I want to get loose this weight. I want to feel pretty. I want to feel sexy. I want to be healthy. I want to hike with my husband and kids. Play on the floor with Jacks. I want to throw the ball around with Jonah and Adam. I want to mow my lawn for Pete’s sake. I want to walk into a place and buy off the rack and have it fit.

I just want to fit.

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4 thoughts on “Not Sure How to Title This

  1. I want to leave a comment to make you feel better, but to be honest, I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to say something that comes off as cliche or like I’m belittling your feelings, because that’s the last thing that I would want to do.

    But know this. You have a Father in Heaven that loves you. A Savior who loved you enough to die for you. And friends, who, though we’ve never met in person, love you and care for you.

  2. Thank you for your piece. You are not alone. I think every average human being shares the same desires.
    Ultimately, my happiness came when I realized that I could choose it at any time, instead of waiting for another person to create it for me.
    Hang in there my love!

  3. Ginger, I see your posts and see your friends posting to you and encouraging you all the time. I think you do fit in, but I know it is not what you are looking for. Sometimes we need to verbalize exactly what we are looking for….I mean like say specifically to some folks that I need you to do this in order for me to feel the love from you. Like being asked to go to the bar. Why don’t you ask your Aunt why they never took you….see what they say….the answer might surprise you and give you some ease of mind. If you don’t ask you will never know. I have also learned through the years that the little voices in our mind that tell us people are talking about us or this and that….is usually incorrect….if we just be honest and ask a person we can be completely surprised by their answer. In any case I am sorry you are feeling so much pain and have been for a while. You are a beautiful person, and need to stop letting the thoughts of what you think others are thinking about you…define who you are. You are so much more than what the little voice is telling you.

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