Day 2 of Bloganuary asked the question, “How are you brave?”
I’ve been told by many – here in the blogging world and in real life – that I’m brave. Brave for putting up with my mom all these years. Brave to not say Sayonara and “get the hell of Dodge”. Brave, even, to put up with my mom’s family.
The truth is, I don’t feel brave despite what the quote says about bravery. If I’m brave, I would had spoken up and defended myself during all the lectures instead of letting my mother throwing insults like daggers. If I’m brave, I would had dared to walk out the door before my hand was ever forced to buy my current home. If you ask her, she’d say she never forced me to buy the house.
That’s right, she didn’t because after day and night of trying to convince me, she failed. So she told her family to convince me just like when they got me to take a job I didn’t want. By owning my current home and owing my aunt some $170k, I feel like I’ve essentially put myself under a rock, which I won’t be able to get out from under for at least the next 15-20 years.
Sometimes, while I’m on my walks and my mind starts to wander, I would keep finding myself wander back to February 2016. I’d wonder what would had happened if I did go through with moving into the student apartment. Would I be here today writing about this? Would I regret the decision? Would I be crawling back to my mother weeks later begging for forgiveness and allowing me to move back in? Or would I survive and thrive in my new-found freedom?
Day 3 of Bloganuary asked, “What is the earliest memory you have?”
My earliest memory was probably going round and round on the Merry-Go-Around or riding in one of those things that rocks you back and forth. I couldn’t be more than 3-year-old. I remember my parents used to take me to the park all the time, whenever the weather permitted. They were interesting people – my parents – my mom was nothing like she’s now – erratic and hot-tempered.
My dad was into photography – mostly landscape. He also did a lot of portrait photography as evident by the piles of photos left in my and my mom’s possessions but it wasn’t as good as his landscape photography.
I guess we had that in common.