:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Wednesday, March 27, 2002 ::

Erg. Bad day.

For one, I'm not happy about the way something turned out. Mom has this car, the volvo, right? It's tan, not exactly pimped out, but it's got decent sound and it's reliable. She's been driving it just about the whole time she and Joe were together. I know it used to be Tash's (Joe's sister in law) and that Tash gave it to Judy (Joe's Mother) and Judy gave it to my mom. Or, at least I thought she did.

Turns out that because my old "stepfather" (Don, a man my mom lived with for three years) got in a car crash two years back and mom had to take the hit to her license (because Don drove for a living and we needed his income - fat lot of good it did us..he nearly bankrupted us, then ran off with my mom's jewelery and a girl young enough to be his daughter) mom can't afford car insurance now. Soooo...long story short, she can't register the car in her name because it's technically Judy's and mom couldn't afford the insurance anyway.

There have been three cars that have been mine.

One was the minivan, which was promised to me all the way back when mom, Don and I first lived back in keyport my freshman year. That, of course, was the one Don crashed.

The second, I bought myself...not exactly economical gas-wise, but it was a 1981 lincon towncar I got for $200 bucks. I parked it in the backyard because I couldn't get insurance cause I had no license and I was too young. Mom junked it on me while I lived in North Jersey. I never really forgave her for that.

And now this. Three times, my mom manages to screw me out of a car. I'm not exactly happy about all this. I'm tired of lies and bad luck, personally. I'm 20, I need to get on with my life, and I need a car to do that.

Even the fact I'm getting my license so late in life is partially my mother's fault. She managed to lose my social security card, my birth certificate, AND the slip that said I passed the written test in High School. By the time I'd replaced all those things, it's 2002. She isn't fully to blame, but I wish to state for the record that she has been absolutely no help whatsoever. She took me out three times to drive since I got my permit, and that was only because her zoloft was working particularly well those days. It was less about "Here, let me help you with something important to you" and more about "Hey! Look at me! I'm a good mother! Praise me for my kindness!". It leaves a bad taste in the mouth, I'll tell you.

I won't claim I haven't been dragging my feet more than I should about getting my license, but it sure would have helped to have an entity other than my father (who was a great help, but unfortunately several states away) cheering me on.

I don't know what exactly brought on this latest bout of bitterness, other than my mother's piss-poor timing with fucking up my life YET again, when I've finally got a decent shot at making something out of myself. I think it's Jon, and how he told me how hard his parents worked to see that he and his sister went to the best high schools, boarding schools, and finally colleges, around. They saved and planned for their children's future. By the time Jon and his sister were ready to take the steps to college, they were not only financially prepared, but educationally prepared from the boarding schools they attended. I guess, in some small way, I'm jealous that my parents never did that for me, or even tried, really. Or, at least my mom.

My dad's always bent himself over backwards to provide everything in his power to me to get me a good life. If someone were to ask him what he's provided me through my two bad stints in various colleges, hell, through my entire life, he could go on quite awhile. Ask my mom, and she just shrugs and says "That's why I signed off on your father's pension". As if she's entitled to it, or something. The woman who's been dating since my parents were still married is entitled to my father's hard-earned money.

Yanno, that really ticks me off, now that I think of it. None of my child support money ever went to me. Yeah, sure, it went to the utility bills and rent in a house I had to live in the basement of, which was prey to constant overflows of the septic tank, to a tiny underground room whose only window was broken and let in the rain. Mom might have argued that I could have stayed in the upstairs room, but that was never really an option. I was scared to death of my "stepfather". When he wasn't drunk, he was angry about something. When he wasn't angry about something, he was trying to look at me while I was changing. When he wasn't doing that, he was making my mom miserable with drunken (and occasionally sober) accusations of infidelity. I told her he was hitting me...to this day I don't think she believes me. It's a good thing I was strong then..because I would have mentally broken bad enough to never heal.

I'm sure my mom loves me, and I love her too....I just don't understand why she feels the need to do everything in her power to hold me back. I want her to be happy, and it's obvious she needs me out of her immediate space to be happy. But to do that, I need to move out. She won't help financially with college, because she doesn't care. She won't help me study for anything driving-related, because she doesn't care. She doesn't want to help with anything because she just doesn't care whether I live, die, or move out, so long as I'm not leaving towels on the floor. This was the woman I locked in my bedroom with me for safety when Don was on drunken rampages. This was the woman I jumped in the car with to go and councel when she and Joe were having marital concerns. This was the woman I loved and supported through kleptomania, alcoholism, and so many other things. I loved her even as she was insulting my father's honor under the very roof he paid to have above our heads. I loved her when she chose to remain with a man who very nearly broke one of my limbs in a fight. I loved her when she got too busy for me and couldn't come when I needed her, and only showed up when it was too late. I've put her through a lot with my own comings and goings, but not nearly akin to what she's forced me to endure. And yet..I don't love her any less than the day we stopped being one person and started being two. There are times when I think that I'm the only one on that train of thought, however. And they're getting more frequent.

Tomorrow we're going to see my Grandfather, my mother's father. I haven't seen him in over two years. We're bringing Joe with us. I suspect the meeting is going to be awkward and sad, because I can never have times like I used to, with my real father and my real mother and a real family who still talked to one another. We'll be ten minutes away from my real grandmother, but we won't go and see her because my Mother and my grandmother haven't spoken in two years now, over differences about Don. She doesn't even know that mom got remarried. I want to tell her, but I don't want to cause a rift even greater than what already exists. I might just write Grandma a letter. I don't know. Everything hurts and I just want a loving family again. Hell, it doesn't even have to be mine, at this point. Joe's family, while they try harder than my mom's to get along, is nonetheless cold and detached, for the most part. I know that I'll never be a part of that family.

To my Kitsune and Kuan Yin - I ask for the strength to find the answers. Show me the way to bring love to my family again, how to make my mother care, how to make my father know I love him. How to make my grandmother know her daughters love her, even through they don't speak. How to bring harmony to a family not my own. How to still appear honorable and worthy to the man I love, though my family discord is a great dishonor to me at times. Grant me serenity and wisdom to see my spirit endure.

~Fox "Amor vincit Omnia" Mackenzie

:: Fox 3/27/2002 06:43:00 PM [Say what?] ::
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