Short Rites Of Passage scribble

This is something I wrote a bit ago - submitted to a small magazine (thus the very structured wording) - thought I'd post it here so I'd have it in the future...it's short, to the point, but is my take on one aspect of "finding" myself - though, to be honest, I never really was that lost as I was fighting my way through all the b.s. I was being fed on a daily basis.  That is what made me tough, helped shape who I am today.

Growing up in a small town as a Jehovah’s Witness, my mother tried to keep me semi-sheltered from life outside of what I was taught to believe.  My father just went along for the ride.  At the age of 18, after barely graduating high school (due to boredom), I left the very next day, in 1988, in my parents tiny truck with a friends brother in tow, and moved to Los Angeles from Oregon.  I moved to the literal, on a map, this is it Los Angeles.  We started out as four in a 1-bedroom which turned into six, living in the “Spanish area” which had the Korean police department about 3 blocks away.  It was quite a change from what I grew up with, but I was ready for it.  I wanted to go out and experience life.  I assure you, I did.  I got a job at a record store, part time, and barely made enough to eat…but, I didn’t care, I was free.  I lived and worked in a grimy area of the city, but for the first time in my life I felt like I could breathe.

One of my friends and I moved to another apartment in the south part of Downtown Los Angeles a couple of months later – this time it was three in a studio, near the Los Angeles River and the Jewelry District.  I was in Los Angeles for a total of six months.  The amount of things I experienced in this time was enough to write a small book, and I’m grateful to this day for that.  I wouldn’t change the being broke and not getting enough to eat, missing out on a crazy rave (and what would have been my first and only experience with heavy drugs) because my instincts took over, meeting a man I adored only to find out he practiced Voodoo and wanted a wife to compliment him, or the number of people I met that I’m still in touch with to this day.  I found myself in Los Angeles.  I woke up.  I realized that I didn’t have to be what I was molded to be.  I realized I could be who I was born to be, which was far from what I was “trained” to become.

I bought myself a ring in the jewelry district about a month before moving back home to Portland.  I wore it on my ring finger for years – a solid gold wedding band.  I married myself in Los Angeles, and told myself this when I put it on.  I gave into myself and found myself, and I wouldn’t change that experience for the world…and I know I’m blessed because so many others aren’t allowed to experience life once they turn “of age”.

Cat had my tongue, for a few minutes...

I have a lot of things buzzing around in my head today, but none of them really seem to want to take to the page, so to speak.  Well, at least that's what I think - we'll see what comes of this piece, today.

I was sitting around, playing Bejeweled 3, because I have a hand injury and I'm not supposed to be doing a whole lot right now due to a surgery I had a week ago.  So, I'm typing a lot?  Ya, that's about right.  I seem to be thinking a lot while playing that mindless game - it's kind of calming.  Could it possibly be that a simple computer game has been giving me Zen-like peace of mind, or allowing me to think about things in the past and rectify, resolve and relive some things?  Maybe...or, it could be the fact that I've been given a gift of almost a week off from thinking, eating, living, breathing my business.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still actively involved in what's going on, I mean how could I not be with it in my house?  But, I'm not being allowed to do a lot of the work I usually do because of the stitches and such - and needing to keep my hand elevated for 80% of the day, etc., etc.  It's actually been rather, surprisingly, nice.  I feel like I'm decompressing for the first time in years.  I'm incredibly blessed to be with an amazing woman who can step up to the plate and handle things...and I hope she realizes this (and I do tell her).

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Today, I learned, once more and even more so than before, that while I may be my mother's child, I truly didn't know who she was.  Her layers were more hidden than mine - at least with me if you dig a little, or even just ask you might learn something about me...but, with her, she was like Fort Knox.

My mother passed away on February 15th of this year in her mid-60's.  For the past few years she's been loopier than usual, but most of what she said, up until the middle of last year, you could actually accept as probably true (based on how she conceived the truth, that is).  She told me, before this time, that the only reason they moved to Florida from Oregon is because of my father, and because HE wanted to see me more often, and that it was really, quite frankly, pissing him off that he never saw me and I never came over.  I found that a bit hard to believe, and figured there was more to it than that, but just kind of shrugged it off like so many other random things she's told me in the past that didn't quite make sense...keeping it in my back pocket for the future, should I need it.

Today, my father stopped by.  We were talking about the horrid weather we're having here and how he wished he were still in Oregon.  He then informed me the only reason they moved to Florida was because my mother was convinced she would, "never see her again" and "then she started crying, so we moved."  I told dad what mom said, and his reply was, "well, I'm glad she told you because I had no clue that's how I felt!"

...yet again, another shining example of my mother having her own little secrets from people.  She didn't want anyone to know her - and I think that is because she was afraid if you did know her you could use it against her.  In fact, I'm fairly certain that is the issue (or, was the issue, I suppose).  My uncle is "an asshole", and he "used things against" my mom to make her feel "like shit" (her words about him, exactly).  I agree, he is an asshole, but he tries, sort of, to be decent and nice.  Mom was overly sensitive, and always had been, and anything that wasn't in her mind benefiting her in some way was obviously against her.  That included her husband, her child, even her cats.  She used to cry when she'd be upset about something (either something I did or my father yelling at her about something) and repeat over and over, "everything is my fault...the whole world is my fault...everything that happens is all my fault!"  I'm amazed she lasted as long as she did with that attitude...yet, if you saw her out, saw her at church, saw her socially she was great!  Her friends loved her, and I found out, upon her dying, just how much everyone really, truly appreciated her as a person.  It made me feel good to know that people cared that much about her, but I wish she could have opened up a bit and given some of that back to me, her kid, instead of hiding it all these years.

Of course...my mother told me once that it was my fault that our relationship was as it was.  First, it was obvious it was my fault (without her telling me this) because I was no longer in the religion (or any) that I was raised in and was living a life of sin.  But...she told me in her own words that when I was about 13 I told her to just "leave me alone" and she informed me that when I told her that, she decided to do just that, and left me alone.  She said she assumed I didn't want to have anything to do with her anymore, so that was that.  

...ummm ...leave her alone ...I was only 13 years old! ...so, that's why, after almost 30 years I still didn't know my mother.  But, I knew enough to send her a program from when I moved to Florida and was listed in a Writers Night as a reader of some original poetry with a note that said, "now you can finally be proud of me."  Ya, I knew enough to send her that...and, she knew enough to tuck it away in a drawer, and dad knew enough to bring it over to me a couple of weeks ago.  I guess in the end, even though I didn't know her, she was proud of me in her own, simple way.


-AA