In the beginning...

In the beginning life was a dream, the best parts were the in the Summer. The smell of damp earth and garden flowers would creep through my open windows, waking me with a smile. This was before the BAD TIMES. My mother would be awake and functioning serving us breakfast and I would usually throw bits of cereal at my brother, finding his torment hilarious...I still do to this day. We lived in the most glamorous house, my father had added a pool and paved a basketball court. The house was on a river where we could fish and take out the boat. I love how it was tucked away from prying eyes, after driving about a mile in the woods, it would jump out at you with it's hand laid brickwork, wrought iron railings and enormous size. My mother would work in the garden on the side of the house, it was about an acre and one of my favorite memories. The art of gardening is embedded in my soul, I love make things grow and watch them flourish. I would walk out to help her after breakfast, I loved feeling my barefoot feet in the earth and helping with the weeding. My favorite thing to grow in the garden was strawberries, I would taste the humid sweetness of summer and be on cloud nine. My mother would have to remind me to save some for my siblings, I often ignored her.
          Weeding is such a mindless activity, your imagination can wander as far as it wants. I would daydream about my pet unicorn that lived in the woods by my favorite oak tree or how David the Gnome lived in the stream that connects to the river. My imagination has always been vivid, it's a blessing and a curse. My teacher's would be amazed at the descriptive stories of battling giant snakes in the garden instead of doing my homework or having to find the treasure left by the river pirates. My mom was than thrilled when my 3 rd grade teacher would call and explain these excuses, my father on the other hand found it hilarious. I tried to explain to mother that this teacher was just upset because she lost her sliver drinking bottle she kept in her desk and my father laughed harder. One of my fondest memories with my father is him reading to me, endlessly. We would read every night and one story was never enough, I needed at least 2 or 3 before I could settle in. We would go to the book store weekly, I still seek refuge from the world there to this day. I was smitten with the glossy photo's and new book smell. My father would leave in the child's section, you could still do this in the early 90's and I would read for hours, Yes, hours. My father was an insurance executive for a large firm and was constantly researching legal stuff and doing work on the computer. My father's job required him to travel a lot, mostly to Newark NJ but when he was home, I was in heaven. I adored him more than mother, I couldn't help it, we had bond deeper than words can express and he also had the biggest heart. One memory that sticks out in my mind is when we knew a family that was evicted 3 days before Christmas and the mother was a very ill diabetic. My father offered to let them stay with us and on Christmas eve, he went to the local Wal Mart and bought them all Christmas gifts, so we could all open gifts together in the morning.  I remember the look of pure holiday bliss on these children's faces and at that moment my father inspired me to help people, it became my passion. Sadly things don't stay perfect forever and my life would take a turn I never expected.

I have mastered the art of self sabotage. I have been through the depths of depravity and survived but not unscarred. I let negative thoughts consume me instead of focusing on the positive, even when I try my hardest. I do well for periods of time, I manage to hold a job and a "healthy, functional" relationship but then I crumble, the past haunts me and I feel like a deer in headlights. So I self sabotage, everything I build, I destroy. I am like an insolent child kicking over their block castle because they got frustrated with the blocks falling. I know life is like that, the blocks fall and you pick them up to rebuild but how many times before you break? what lesson am I supposed to learn? and when will I be able to find my place in the sun? You know, I don't even want my place in the sun yet, I just want to feel it's warmth on my face as a reassurance that things will get better.