About Family, Children & Unconditional Love

8 June 2011 ~About Family, Children & Unconditional Love~

Everytime I spend time with the kids I nannied for, I become contemplative about where I’ve been, what I’ve come from, what I have wanted, and how I have changed. When I was graduating from highschool, I always thought I would find a nice guy, settle down and have the family, be a part of a community & so on & so forth. Hmmmm. My life path wasn’t meant to be the way I had dreamed it as a naïve seventeen-year-old. Apparently.

I daydreamed about the hockey players I had crushes on, as well as the ghetto boys that would make comments that flew way over my head. So I was naïve & good-natured. I wasn’t a bad girl, a party-girl or a slut in any way. I hid behind my religious upbringing, and figured life would just simply work out the way it was meant to be.  I was brought up in a semi-strict household. My dad is a very controlling man- I will give him credit that he has mellowed out throughout my lifetime, but he was always very controlling, and my mother usually just did his bidding. There is a lot of alcoholism that has literally wasted the family away – more so spiritually and emotionally than physically. I guess we all have longevity in our genes. But I digress. So there is codependency, fucked up family dynamics and the hedge of religion to contend with.

I dated some, but no one either sparked my interest enough, or I convinced myself I was never good enough. I ended up dating a lot of jerks. The first guy I REALLY thought I would settle down with to get married to – we were an item before we went on an official date. It was understood. But vague. I think I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I was head over heels in what I thought was love. Fuck. This went on for a couple of years. Then one day a group of us went to get coffee. He told me he loved me. But he loved me in a way that wasn’t the way I needed to be loved. He moved halfway across the country the next day. I hadn’t even known he was planning to move. I was devastated. I was completely heartbroken.

The years had drifted by, I was twenty-one then. I didn’t understand how I would have done anything for him, and he left me. His family even loved me. His parents had told me on many occasions that I was their little girl. In the midst of my heartbreak, I threw myself into being the most fabulous party girl I knew I could be. I hung out at the local gay bars and competed in fabulousness with the local drag queens. I could throw together an outfit for any theme party and I put my best slut face forward. Even though I was still not a slut (I may have had a few “instances” where people may have thought I was a slut, but just because I was ACTING slutty, that did not in any way mean I was a true slut.  I had many opportunities to be a slut, but deep down, I just couldn’t sleep with anyone and everyone. Until I started partying so much that I didn’t care so much, and my judgment became inhibited, and indeed- I made some really bad decisions.

All this time, I was just trying to figure out who I really was. It felt good to be able to walk into the club & instantly have a flock of men around me ENCOURAGING me to act a fool & be the most ridiculous girl I could be. It made me feel a bit narcissistic when I got offered a role in a fetish film because I was rocking out a bondage belt & was letting anyone lick whipped cream off my breasts as long as they bought me a shot. (that night did end up getting rather fuzzy. Thank GOD for all my gay men that surrounded me & got me home safe- otherwise I probably would have ended up in a snuff film, dead in some dumpster in an alley in this town. **shudder**

All this time of partying, I held together my day life. I would party hard all night long, but somehow I would gather myself together when I would hear the birds singing & I would either make it to class or to work with a smile on my face, I remember even going to work on Sunday at eleven- and I started having a trip-flashback. Holy fuck that was intense. Once again- thank GOD for my gay boys coming to the rescue. Sunglasses, OJ, & food to try to buffer all the chemicals in my system... That was the only time I have ever done acid. It wasn’t great, and it just made for a really freaky experience during daylight hours. Not my bag.

 I held 3 part-time jobs during this clusterfuck of a rollercoaster. And I was a 4.0 full-time student. Somewhere around this time, “A” was born. Her parents went to the same Bible study group that my parents went to, and they wanted someone to take care of her 3-4-5 days a week. I figured I had taken care of kids since I was 12 (how else do you think I afforded eyeliner as a kid- my dad certainly wasn’t going to shell any money out for that) – so I agreed to the job.

I was a primary caregiver for ”A.” We were inseparable. I would find myself taking care of her on days I wasn’t needed, just because I loved her so much, and because it made me sad how inept her parents were at loving her. I wanted babies. I hadn’t really settled down yet, or found Mr. Right, and I hadn’t even gotten knocked up like so many of my friends…. I had failed, but I could still love this precious & amazing child.

I was “A’s” nanny until she was about two years old. She was already calling me Mama sometimes, and when I would leave their house, or put her in her parents’ car, she would sob & beg for me not to go. They were expecting another baby, and her mother lost her job, so it worked out that I could pull away from that heartbreaking experience. I loved her so much. But I wasn’t her mother.
I’ve taken care of this family on and off through the years. There are three kids now, and I love them all deeply. I think their father is a creep on more than one level, and their mother is… detached. But I cannot point fingers, or think I would be any better if I was in their shoes. I haven’t walked in their shoes. But deep down, I know I would do better.

Today we celebrated “A’s” eleventh birthday. She is a precocious child. Bless her. I love her, but cannot help but get so annoyed with her – she makes ridiculous comments, just mimicking her ultra-religious & right-winged parents. She has no idea what she is talking about except that she hears all that bullshit from her parents. They talk trash about me, and they are stupid to think it won’t be parroted back to me. Oh well. I know they don’t think highly of me because I sport blue hair & have no real boyfriend, I haven’t gotten married or done the right thing of breeding- which I never had intention of merely breeding- but really truly being a mom. I think I would be really good at it. But, I digress yet again. I don’t think highly of them at all either. I wish I could just walk away. But those three kids. As annoyed as I get- they have no real structure in their life, no real discipline- only threats & belittling. It isn’t really their fault how they are. It isn’t their fault that they have not had exposure of being able to play make-believe, to play house, to play with playdough, to make finger-paint art… I could go on forever. I won’t. IT’s not the point. The point is this. I love those children. I feel really shitty when I yell at any of them when they are doing something bad or naughty or disobeying the rules. The only way they get attention on a regular basis is getting yelled at. I cannot be that to them.

All the years I took care of them, I would play the same “I love you more than…” game that I remember my mom playing with me. Finding ways to outlove each other, and giggling at the ridiculous ways we could find to love each other more and more. Giggling & being able to be spontaneous and silly. Feeling loved. Feeling free.

I also would play this game with them where I would chase them around until I could catch them in my “arms of love” – I would catch them, and then hold them close, hugging them close to me, just to give them hugs and kisses. I think it is truly a basic human need to feel this limitless love. To feel so safe in the arms of someone you can trust to love you unconditionally.

Tonight the little one, who is five years old, ran to me, and hugged me. She hugged me so tight around my neck. I could barely breathe. We were giggling, and then she told me that she was holding me in her arms of love and would never let me go.

I end tonight’s blogfest once again, feeling totally vulnerable and raw. My shredded emotions are open to the air and I can feel the sharp pain of being open and vulnerable. I love these babies. Maybe I will never have my own… But I still have enough love in my heart that I can love others who need to be loved. And when I am least expecting any love in return, I will be so pleasantly surprised. I will be knocked to my knees and humbled in the simplicity of this basic of human needs…. Unconditional love. Even I can be loved… unconditionally.