I haven't written in a few months... I've been off in my own world, struggling with my own life. Again....
Alot of people believe I am stong, but the truth is, I'm not, I'm normal. Eveyone has trials and tribulations that they deal with on a daily basis, some more than other's, but we all have our own story.
My story is wrapped up in my childrens storys. I spent the day with my daughter today. We went through some of her writing. She writes a lot like I do... from pain, exsperience, her own storys meshed with mine.
She is my 1st born, my heart, although I don't believe she accepts that, nor believes it. We have always had a toxic relationship, due to circumstances and choices. She believes she is right, I believe I am, it does not matter, its all relative.
She was not raised with me, she was raised with her father and grandfather and grandmother. He, her father, took her from me when she was 4. The reasons why, no longer matter, but he had her illegally. I choose not to fight for her for my own reasons.
In the years she was with him, we had been at odds, there were things she would not tell me, things I did not know, but I knew. ya know? Since leaving him, having her 1st born, she has learned some. So have I.
We all gain insight with life exsperience, there is empathy, but there is no turning back time. We go from here, there is no living in the past. There is no sense in it. We have both hit our bottoms in different ways, for diffeent reasons, but they all paralle.
I raised her daughter, her 1st born. She turns 14 today, and has been back with her mother for 2 years now. I'm not there... once again, for my own reasons, that at this point are moot. She won't understand, and I won't go there for now.
My daughter is a recovering addict. I am proud of her sobriety, and pray this continues. She had 12 years clean, and took a spill a few months ago. Somehow, by devine intervention, she ended up in a position where she had to get clean, and get clean quick. I won't divuldge her D.O.C (that is drug of choice) but she did get clean, and has stayed that way for the last 63 days.
Her pain is my pain, she does not understand this, her storys are part mine. She's my heart, and the pain I have from not having had her with me her young life cuts me like she has cut herself. Sharp, slicing... I bleed with her.
I love her. I'm proud of her, and she is not a victim, she is normal, she's beautiful, if only she could see that. She is my heart.