3:12 p.m. | 2003-08-13
Childhood sans oreos
I don't think I've ever mentioned this, but I relly don't like oreos much, they're too sweet. And in a world where oreo's are "America's Favorite Cookie" I feel left out.
I got that e-mail from Kristin the other day, that was really nice, also, within the hour I got one from my other to-be roomate, Melissa. She seems a little less excited, though like a nice girl I'm not going there right now, though, because it'd take effort and thought and I put so much into that yesterday, I think I'm done.
As I sit here clad in my towel after taking a shower, and listening to the sprinkler outside squeek I find myself drifting. I never explained my childhood, only alluded to its shitty nature. Unfortunately I've blocked a lot of it out, in general I remember things from about 4 to 8, and then they disappear until 12, my father was gone then, he wasn't actually gone, but he admittedly pulled away. The only reason I have 12 is because it's more recent, it's that whole, 'I'm no longer a kid I'm a young adult' stage.
From the beginning, though, both of my parents weren't ready for kids, my mom just, well she's not really mature enough and would have made a perfect 50's mom had she been in the right situation. My father was too busy on his grad degree and then his PhD and then his new job and then trying to buy the company, and, just always other stuff. He had priority issues, and even though he can say I'm the most important thing to him, I'm not. I know that and I've come to accept that. But he left me at daycare countless times because he just, "lost track of the time," or even, "forgot what I was doing." It's sad that in pre-kindergarten I can remember those things. My mother worked to put my father through grad school, so that made her really available for me from right about birth, and to tell you the truth, we've never ever had a strong relationship. This is the strongest it's ever been, and it's sad.
For the most part though, it taught me to be an independent kid, and when he told me one day (and I was about 7 keep in mind) that I was "the wedge that's driving me and your mother apart," I was hurt. And I remember him saying that, he doesn't. He asked me one day, what he had done, and I told him that, he didn't remember. That's sad. It means that much to a child and you can't even remember.
There's countless other times where I can say they've done things to me. It's not as bad as it could be, I know, but it's made me really distanced from them.
I want a mother who really cares, and she does, but I want to be able to care back, in a real sense. I can't, she was never there, my father and I were constantly fighting for her attention and in that process, we never really got our time with her anyway. She'd be home on weekends when she started traveling, and he'd get her at night, and the weekends were when I wanted to play with my friends, and so I never got to see her. I was alone for days at a time, I'd live at other people's houses, they treated me so much like an adult, they forgot that in a lot of ways, I was still a child.
I couldn't be unhappy at the age of 6, it'd be impossible. I'm happy now, though, as much as I strive for more, I'm in a good place, I'm trying to avoid doing bad things to people, and I'm making my best effort to become the best parent I can be, when it comes time for that.
I'm done, drained, and sadly so completely numb about the situation it makes me want to cry out of being stupid and detached. Go back about your daily lives people, be well, don't work too hard, and sit back and smile at least once today, saying yes, I am great.
Signing off--Lauren
