In response to the weekly writing challenge: My DNA. Well if you look to the right at my pictures you can see who I am. Again, please stop laughing! Seriously, I have never looked very deep and analyzed myself so this is a little tough for me.
I grew up a Daddy’s girl, which is typical being the baby in the family and the only girl. Between Mom and Dad I definitely got my Dad’s eyes and skin tone and my Mom’s ass and dance moves. Not a bad combination. My Dad had pretty eyes to match his pale skin and Mom, well she had a nice ass and knew how to shake it. (Shhhh…let’s not talk about how I got this big nose!)
A have a piece of both their hearts. From Dad I get the cold, stern, selfish, bold, strong, I will do as I please attitude. From Mom I get the warm, compassionate, non-judgmental, free spirited, how can I help you attitude. I gotta take the good with the bad, but don’t we all?
Dad was very secretive about who he was. He changed his name in his early twenties and we knew little about his family. I recall seeing Grandpa a few times when I was a child and I remember him calling Dad by his real name. I asked Grandpa why he called Dad that and his simple answer was “when your Dad wants you to know he’ll tell you”. Dad never told me. Well, he told me many different stories but went to his grave with the truth. As a result of his secrecy, I am an open book. What you see is what you get. I leave nothing to interpretation. It has come back to bite me in the ass a few times, you know the one that looks like Mom’s, but all in all I think I am a better person for it. So, “thanks Dad!” I think.
Mom was open and honest about most things in her life. She was a strong woman but very simple and down to earth. It wasn’t until her last few weeks of life that I realized she had many demons in her closet that for whatever reason, she didn’t talk about. Mom was the type of person who didn’t talk too much about things, unless you asked her, then she took the opportunity to unload. I look back on some of the stupid idiotic things I did growing up and give much thanks to Mom for sitting back and letting me make my owns mistakes. Never once judging. Never once lecturing. (okay, maybe just once) Always supporting me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Years later, having children of my own, I try to be this way with them. Its really hard not to lecture, judge and meddle in their lives sometimes. I wish Mom was still here. I often ask “Damn Mom, how’d you do it?” And the question goes unanswered.
As for my faith, I struggle with the fact that Mom and Dad raised us with no religious foundation so we could choose our own faith when we became adults. I think that Dad just didn’t want us to know there was a power greater than him. And Mom, she was a preacher’s daughter, and you know what they say about those girls! I was baptized in the Catholic church when I was 22 and renewed my vows that I had taken at the early age of 17. Shortly thereafter I was divorced and lost faith in who I knew as God for many years. Twelve years later, after a second divorce, I dedicated myself and my life to my God on July 23, 2005. I developed a new relationship with him and grew in my faith. It was only then that I understood the meaning and purpose of life and found true happiness, looking to no one else to make me happy and understaning that it was not my responsibility to make anyone else happy. Nearly 2 years later, I met my husband. It was the right time in both of our lives, neither one of us looking for love, but welcoming it with open arms when we stumbled upon it. I was baptized again in the Baptist church exactly one year after meeting Ray, this time with a better understanding of my profession of faith.
Sometimes I wonder where I would be in life had I been raised to know God. But why second guess it, I am where I am. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe a few things …but that’s another story for another day.
So there you have it. Any questions?