Not I said the brown cow!!!
Ever since I was little Christian church was forced upon, Baptist to be exact. Deep southern Baptist, later just Baptist, then later non denominational to now. I no longer go church and even it I did I am positive it wouldn’t be under a Jesus banner.
Old habits die. While I still find myself, catching myself in saying “In Jesus name” and the like, I simply can’t believe like I use to. I do believe there is something bigger than us out there, I do believe there is an omnipotent being out there who created this earth and us, and I’m just not sure who that is. So I still “pray”, hold reverence for whom or whatever that is, but its not Jesus solely anymore. My prayers are universal. I pray to the Universe to Allah to The Man on the Moon, to whoever is up there but not to Jesus. Jesus doesn’t love, this I know. Jesus does not care about me. Like a bad relationship I am trying to let Jesus but its hard having only known him.
I guess I have made enough post to get to the nitty gritty of my life. I do not have a relationship with my mother. I never have and never will. My mother is not well in the head. Has she been diagnosed with something? I don’t know. But has she been on some mental disability insurance since the age of 29? Yes. But since I don’t know what she claimed and while I know the reasons for the claim (rape) I have no clue as to if she was actually diagnosed with anything. But I know something is wrong. I can’t say what as my memory is limited.
For the first 7 years of my life I was not with my mother. From what I have been told and able to piece together, I was raised for the first 3 years of my life by both sets of grandparents (really grandmothers) then some molestation allegations happened on paternal side which were vehemently denied and even my maternal grandfather when he found out I had been told about all this (I didn’t know about all this until I was 20 years old) said nothing was wrong (Caveat, while I do believe this, subsequent post may include my thoughts on him being a liar as I now believe). These allegations led to my mother’s family keeping me away from my father’s side for the rest of my childhood.
Forgive me, this is largely straying. This is why I started this blog after many years of being told I should write my crazy story. Things tend to mesh and get jumbled in the sense cant tell one without the other. So I don’t think I could tell the story of what happened today without a little backstory, no matter how much that little is actually a lot.
My first memory of my mother is being drunk at some 20 something birthday party of hers. I was on a pink sofa and remember drinking something I thought was apple juice. I remember being really sleepy and then falling asleep amongst a sea of purses on that sofa. Subsequent pictures I saw who should Louis Vuitton and Gucci bags mid 80s surrounding me. Her first memory of me seems to be when I was 5. She came to give me presents for a birthday party. The most prized was a Louis Vuitton purse. It looked just like what I now know as Speedy bag but would be the size of my adult hand. I’m sure as a 5 year old it looked like a normal purse. I remember carrying that bag to children’s church every Sunday until I was a pre-teen when some forgotten argument snatched it back. It still made me no friends. I guess the kids didn’t know what it was, just like I didn’t until much later in life.
I have no memory of this being 5 years old but apparently I threw the purse back at her. For what reason has never been told to me? Was I crying? Was I upset about something? I have no idea. All I know is I threw the purse back at her. She tells everyone that story probably to this day. What I heard more than anything from her lips regarding this story is “Who throws back a Louis Vuitton purse and doesn’t want it”. Ummm a 5 year old who doesn’t even know what it is? Let me get back to today.
Today I received an extremely nasty call from my egg donor whom I haven’t spoken with in 2 years. 2 years ago a lot of drama happened. My grandfather died. Later post for another time. I saw her number on the call dial and answered for reason. I think I had forgotten I blocked her on my old phone. Well not forgotten I blocked her, but just didn’t think about as I have put her and my brother out of my daily memory. I don’t know what it was. As I have said previously I don’t talk to anyone. So any time my phone rings is truly shocking and startlingly at the same time, more so the latter. It was her number. I think deep down I was hoping she was coming to her senses and giving me the inheritance left to me. I suspect because of something my brother said when I still speaking to him. But oh that was not it.
What I got was a cussin out, called everything but a child of God. This is over postal mail. Yes, you read that right…postal mail. She kicked me out of the only home I have known for my entire life when my grandfather died despite me owning a 1/3 share. I became homeless. It was mess. This is the only address I have ever had on official documents. I haven’t changed credit-reporting agencies to this for that reason. Along with it still being a house a partially own. I have honestly blocked out her words already. What did stand out what her saying I was “messing with her”. She said how she told a cousin of ours how she knew I was messing with her but had the last laugh because she was still withholding money. This did two things. 1) Confirmed my suspicion of inheritance being withheld, but I have long let go as her being the executor and me having no money for legal investigation or ramification, figured I was never gonna see anyway and 2) that she is crazy. After trying to interject as soon as she mentioned mail and knew what was going on, she cut me off and said, “Let me finish” which I did but when she was done she hung up in my face. Knowing that she wouldn’t pick up I simply text her that I was not messing with her, showed her proof via text images of address change request and then told her I wish she gets the help she needs. There is a lot more but too much to type for this post so where does God come in to play in this?
You see, during the years with my maternal grandmother, every Sunday was filled with going to her small Baptist church. My grandmother born and raised in a small town in the Florida Panhandle in the 1920s-30s had somehow found a tiny little Baptist church in Los Angeles where my grandparents migrated during the Great Migration. It had a two rows of about 15 pews each, a small stage and choir stand. Every image you can think of small black Baptist church was right here in Los Angeles. I spent Sundays there only. My mother was another demon of her own. When I went to live with her she too attended a Baptist church but it was larger and more modern. When we first started going there it was in the gym of high school having outgrown its small beginnings. It eventually grew to become non denominational along with being of the biggest mega churches in Southern California. Life was this church to my mother. We spend Sundays and other days in this church. She was very involved in the back scenes of the church. She knew everybody but never had a title I’m aware of. She posed as the loving Christian. Pious and Righteous. One Sunday, I brought my soon to husband to this church, whom she hated. She hated everyone I dated. But on this Sunday ohhh she fawned and cooed. She smiled and waved and acted like a good Christian woman should. That was when I finally saw the light. She was fake, a phony.
She has made my life miserable before and after that encounter and I will share I promise. I just can’t squeeze my whole life story in one simple post. The thing is she has always proclaimed victory over me because she said Jesus was on her side and no matter what she had done…she was right. She has always “won” over me. So how can I serve such a God who would allow such evil to flourish and win! “Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord” was always my hope as a teenager, now I know that’s not true. There is no hope when it comes to her doing the right thing and me receiving what I was promised. How can I serve a God who would allow such things? I struggle with my faith because of all this. I know something is out there; I’m just not sure who. For now I just live my life day to day. I do my best to pretty good success to move on from the past and try to plan for the future but try not to stress on it. I live for today. Take it one day at a time. As an old friend of mine use to tell me, How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.