Moving forward in leaps and bounds.
Now, the first major disconnect.
I was in the Oxton area (It’s a up name, I can’t use any real names here) of Massachusetts having graduated from Hutton College. I had run myself out of a job and a boyfriend. I had fallen into a relationship with a roommate. The lease was discontinued because of me. Once again I was a smoker seeking a living situation with non-smokers. I promised to smoke only in my room. On of the two male roommates asked me to go down to Cape Cod with him. I ditched him for the other male roommate, who was cuter. We fell into a reverie of a relationship which ended with the end of the lease term, we all went our separate ways. J. and I had been laying in bed holding on to one another. My excuse was that I was sick and taking psych meds. He said, “Its good practice in reltionships.” Bullshit. It was dangerous for me, when he left I was unable to function without him.
So I found a room in a house with four other Hutton grads. It tanked when I foolishly asked my mother to book me a flight to San Francisco to see my Hutton roommate for Thanksgiving. I hadn’t asked her, I just invited myself. I realized my mistake after returning to Oxton from my mother’s new house in PA. I said I didn’t want to go. My mother became threatening. It wasn’t an option to cancel. Well it had to be. I went, the roommate didn’t want me there. I had to get my father to buy me an emergency return trip. It was a disaster. And when I got back a deep panic set in. And my mother to this day wouldn’t fess up, I am working on her right now. All these years later it still matters if she tells the truth about what she did. Because the rest of it, these 33 years, didn’t have to happen the way they did. But no. She won’t fess up. Even now. I am hanging out in the breeze with a son in the mix and no way to account for myself. I made a suicide attempt and went to a state hospital in PA.
The thing that holds me is that if I hadn’t make the suicide attempt and got my urethra damaged and become obsessed with my sexuality I would never have found out the truth about my disability–why I was never satisfied, why nothing ever worked out, the being kneed in the crotch by my brother when I was little. Now that came out of years of introspection, recovering my childhood memories. I am a different person now. I got blown apart and now I am put back together another way.
I don’t know how God is going to put this together but I know he is.
Then, there’s my son. I wouldn’t change for the world having him and watching him grow, no matter what the b.s. he went through, it was baaaad for him. But Love is making a way for him and now he is out of the frying pan and away from the fire he has time to heal and a place to grow.
Im shattered. But with Jesus, shattered is good.