I lived that dream for awhile, but still remained attached to the Podunk town. When I left the industry, ironically, I broke away from the Podunk town and all its baggage forever. However, I found myself in a dream of a romance with someone who I always told myself I'd never be with; a normal guy with a steady job who wanted a family, a house in the suburbs, family barbecues, Disneyland vacations with the kids, and a loving wife to grow old with.
I loved him and I chose to be with him. I claim complete responsibility for that decision. It seemed so great when we bought our first house, fixed it up, and sold it to upgrade to the dream house in the 'burbs. It seemed so great when we decided to have a child. It seemed so great when I made the choice to be a stay-at-home mom and give up my career. Then the reality hit. I was at home with a baby, in a house in the 'burbs, with a husband who worked 9:00am-5:00pm. I was living the "American Dream", but it wasn't my dream. I felt it was more the dream of my mother, a manipulative woman who raised me with half-truths, a huge amount of guilt, and a constant boot on my throat.
I started this blog to work through all that, because I knew in order to be happy, I would have to, reluctantly, get this all off my chest. A blog was more preferable to me than therapy. When you are told throughout your childhood not to talk about family matters, then at 30 years old find yourself on the therapist's couch, despite the safety of the environment, and the fact that you have been an adult for awhile, you still don't give anything up.
I used this blog for therapy, for a political platform, and as a sounding board for whatever my brain could come up with. It must have worked, because I don't find myself blogging much anymore. I find myself in a happy place in my life. I live in a beautiful house in the SoCal 'burbs with my normal husband, two children, and I've found that my, once dreaded, normal life is now a source of pride.
I was a poor kid from a one-horse town with a crazy mother, an abusive stepdad, and no hope for a future. I was supposed to wind up as a drug addict or pregnant at 17. I was supposed to be poor, white trash with a wage slave job, but I didn't let that happen. I educated myself, was smart enough to eventually land a wonderful man, worked my ass off to have a good career with a salary to match, and became the mother I wish I would have had. I am proud of this.
These days my guilt comes from the fact that I don't have much desire to write. For some reason I've lost a bit of confidence in my writing. Maybe I just need to quit bitching, quit feeling guilty, and just write. So, that's the plan. Many apologies in advance if it sucks, sounds incoherent, or doesn't really say anything original. My goal is to get back to creating quality content, so bare with me, and eventually, I'll get there. In the meantime, make sure you have a drink before reading my posts, everything will sound much better that way.
