The (Non) Fiction Portrait in My Head
When you grow up surrounded by lies, you're never quite sure exactly what is true and what isn't. Did he really get laid off, or was he fired? Does she really have cancer, or is this just another desperate plea for help?
I could never be sure.
There's really no sense in trying to figure out the why or dwelling on how really stupid the whole thing was, the basic point is that my father is, was, and continues to be a liar. Facts are facts, and that's a fact. Every day there was some sort of lie or half-truth or something. Most of the time the lies are completely pointless, which I think proves that he truly doesn't realize that he's doing it. He certainly didn't realize it when he told the biggest lie that stuck with me. "Your mom killed herself today," he said as he burst into the kitchen when I was 14 years old.
He forgot the word "tried." She TRIED to kill herself today. That word -- tried -- it's a very important one in that sentence.
Anyway, he could never be trusted to tell the truth, so I grew accustomed to living a sort of alternative reality life.
Which is why I always wonder if I'm exaggerating just how bad it was. Did we really go months and months eating only TV dinners, Banquet chicken, and tuna casserole? Did I really wander the neighborhood at all hours of the day and night like some sort of stray cat? Were my parents really as bad as the image I have in my head?
It turns out the answer is yes. Definitely. And, it's entirely possible that I've applied my give-credit-when-it's-not-necessarily-due thing to the whole mess. I might be exaggerating the first 17 years of my life, but if I am, it's because I'm rounding up and making things a little better than they were.
But I didn't go through it alone.
We moved for the zillionth time when I was in 3rd grade. We went from the ghetto trailer park north of town to the slightly less ghetto trailer park south of town. Instead of rented property, it was a neighborhood where everyone owned their double-wide. Or, as I saw it, the wealthier people owned their own double-wide. Those of us who weren't so lucky were stuck in a single-wide.
She lived in a double-wide. I was jealous, but not so jealous that I was blinded. She seemingly had more, but she was super nice and for many years, she was my best friend. The adorable red head with the maze of freckles and I spent day after day roaming the neighborhood, riding our bikes up and down the street, exploring the gravel pits, and sledding amongst the crazy little cactuses that grow wild in North Dakota.
But then we grew apart. There was no reason for it, it just happened. There was no falling out, no hard feelings, nothing at all. The culprit was time. Nothing else.
Days turned into years turned into decades and we hadn't talked. We had managed to keep track of each other thanks to the magic of the internet, but there weren't any real conversations. That is, until she let me know that she was going to be in Pittsburgh for a conference.
Of course I kidnapped her for an evening.
We roamed downtown and ate the best Mexican money can buy and we talked. We talked about the good and the bad and we compared notes and there are exactly two things that I walked away knowing:
1. What really happened matches the portrait I have painted in my head.
2. Damn, we did good. Both of us. We both refused to accept our lot in life and found a way to make today better than yesterday while always keeping an eye on tomorrow.
If success can be measured by happiness, we're the most successful people on this earth.
Thanks, Jill. And ... good job, you.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Reader Comments (8)
Well, I don't even know her, but if she's a friend of yours AND her name is Jill, she must truly be a gem.
Oh, how I want to squeeze you!
Sounds like a great night.
I am fascinated when I compare notes about some of the effed up stuff from my childhood...because I usually focus on the funny. The funny story I can make out of it so that I don't focus too hard on how not funny it was. Because when I am just honest about it and share some of it with my husband he just shakes his head and wonders how I turned out as relatively normal as I did. My hope is that my kids wonder if their childhood was really as great as they remember it.
I am so glad we found our friendship again! I adore your determination and drive to not allow the path set before you be your only choice. You created a whole new one and have done phenomenal work professionally as well as personally! You made me tear up my friend!
Great post.
Unrelated: I was clicking through your tweets (since I don't have Twitter) and there was something about donating nebulizers. I have at least 2, maybe 3. Could you send me the link? I couldn't make it work. Thanks!
My sister & I did a similar notes-comparing a few years ago. Sometimes it's nice just to get that validation, isn't it?
And good for both of you for breaking the cycle and getting out of that situation. It's not an easy task, and so few make it. Good job.
thrilled that you and jill turned out to be such incredible women.
wonderful post, my friend!
So happy to hear the happy ending. xo