Throwback Thursday or why there is 10 years between Daughter and Son..

As I have said several times of late, I’m struggling. I don’t know if it’s the time of year, deeper depression, greater pain, marital stuff, the holidays, etc etc. I know I need to be doing a lot of things that I am not that could be helping me and part of that is getting back on track with my writing. But because I KNOW that part of where my writing needs to go is in a memoir-y direction and because I want a cool segmented blog with in demand themes for every day of the week, I am hereby instilling Throwback Thursdays in which I will do a memoir type post regardless of what is currently going on.

Sorry I’m so awkward with this. I just really, REALLY want to have a cool, segment-y blog like http://www.nonsenseshenanigans.com.

I know. I know. I am lightyears away from Tempest’s skills over here but we all gotta dream and we all start somewhere.

There are 10 years between Daughter and Son. That was not my choice and certainly not for lack of trying. My unplanned pregnancy with Daughter was of course, before I had any fertility issues.

When I found out I was pregnant with Daughter I was 18, homeless and incredibly self destructive. I was homeless because I was stupid and stubborn. I spent the majority of my teen years in the foster care system. Because I was rambunctious, rebellious and a runaway (really wasn’t trying for the alliteration there) I  was not placed with families. Instead I bounced through a succession of programs and whenever one got on my nerves I would either run away or break the rules so severely that I got kicked out. I was actually in a pretty good place when I turned 18. It was an independent living program, an apartment in Cambridge not too far away from Harvard Square. I shared it with 2 other girls. The staff didnt even live with us full time. They dropped in a few times a week. There was a room where an overnight staff was supposed there too but either they  didnt have enough in the budget to have them all the time or they hired unreliable women or they just didn’t care.

Whatever the case there was hardly ever any difficulty with staff meddling.  All I had to do was work, clean up after myself, and not let boys stay over. In return I got an apartment in Cambridge, complete with cable and an allowance for household expenses.  On top of everything, they were going to pay my way thru school while I lived here.

But even back then I was a self sabotoeur. I was only really content when life truly sucked so when things were  going so well for me I decided to hook up with S my best friend J’s abusive, homeless,  drug dealing boyfriend and keep him at my place a few nights a week.

J knew S was staying with me. Her parents hated him and he had no place else to stay so she encouraged it actually.  I don’t know what the fuck possessed her to think it was a good idea but she did.

S was bad news. He wasn’t particularly good looking but his asshole overconfidence meant that he always had his share of women around him. J was his girlfriend but he had friends like me, his girlz, his stupid word not mine, whom he told everything to and was way more emotionally involved with than her. J was my best friend and we had been through hell and back together but she was also a needy pain in the ass sometimes and whenever S felt smothered by her he would come to me.

We were completely platonic besties for awhile, I was kinda off and on with this other guy and S was with J, but I knew he was attracted to me. He made no secret of that to J either,”Why can’t you cook like/dance like/act like/dress like/ have an ass like Maria?” He’d say to her and we’d all  laugh as if this was a joke instead of demeaning and dysfunctional.

J said she knew that nothing would ever happen between S and me. He wasn’t my type. I liked guys like James, my  off again on again. He was tall,6′ 3″, dark skinned, quiet and hardworking. He went to college and worked and had goals.

S was short,(by my standards anyways about 5’9″ which made him only 2 inches taller than me) and light skinned not to mention that huge, twisting scar under his jawbone. He dj’ed and sold pot and still somehow barely had money to make ends meet.

It’s hard to remember now, 20 years or so later, exactly how we started hooking up behind J’s back. I know it had something to do with James refusing to commit the way I wanted him to while S was wearing me down with nonstop come- ons whenever we were alone together. And one day when I was the right combination of sad about James, turned on by S, indifferent or maybe downright pissed  toward my bf and just the right amount of self loathing I gave in.

It was mind blowing for both of us and after that, any and every opportunity we had we were going at it..

Ok..my joints won’t stand for any more laptop time tonight.. plus the wifi is dragging ass. More of my sordid past next week!