Lemming? Don't think so.

       I was talking to my close friend about my newfound blogging career. The ins, the outs, the ups and downs. What I took away from that conversation was that - in everything I might possibly write about, I should keep it honest and real. My dilemma with this is - that of all those who know me.... they really don't! Can I write so honestly that of those who know me well, will they be shocked? Will they judge me differently? There is so much about me that is unknown to most. It's funny because I liken this thought to a funeral and those who knew the deceased are amazed because each one brought something new to light that the others hadn't known about! Which goes to show that we humans are indeed multi-faceted creatures!
       How do I let others know me when I'm still figuring out who the hell I am?? I've been trying to find the right word to describe me and the word that's foremost in my mind is..... Unconventional. Yep! That's it... oh there are so many other words I wish I could use, but that one.... well it calls to me.
       I wasn't a conventional kid. I wasn't a conventional teenager. I wasn't a conventional girlfriend or wife. I wasn't even a conventional mother. In fact, I don't think I am conventional now in any sense. This could be the reason behind my never feeling as if I fit in anywhere. I am the oldest of three children. As a kids, my sister got along great with my Dad and my little brother was Mom's favorite. I grew up wondering why I had been born, why had I been born a girl. It just wasn't fair. I say that because in this time I am referring, men had most of the advantages, women were so restricted! (Just want to clarify... no resemblance to Chaz Bono!!) I was given a name I did not like. I was never comfortable with myself. I wanted to run with the boys, which I did. Not in the giddy girl sense... but because I was a tomboy. I played baseball. I wasn't afraid of bugs or animals or getting dirty. I rode my bike as fast and as hard as any kid on my block!
       Most of my bravado was born of insecurity. Then and sometimes now. I wanted so much to fit in that I did many things that weren't good for me. I had a rebellious streak that kept me in trouble most of the time. As a kid I argued and butted heads with my Dad. I must have driven him crazy. I think sometimes of the crap I've gone through with my own kids and I know I must have had him scratching his head. Poor man. In those years right before he died, we had gotten on the same page about something when I had my first child. Finally friends. I don't know if he ever knew how I sorry I am for putting him through the wringer.
       I was raised in the idea that girls were designed for one reason - to marry, have kids, cook and clean... the whole 1950's vibe of the stay at home woman. NO! Not me!! I don't want those things.. I don't want to settle down!! I don't want kids!! I want the freedom to do whatever I want to do. Go where ever I want to go. I want this without having to ask permission from anyone. No one is going to tell me what to do! All the screaming and fussing with my Dad - I did everything I could to show him he couldn't best me. I was spanked, I was whipped, I was exiled to my room. I was grounded, I wasn't allowed to do fun things I should have been doing. I had everything that was important to me taken away. But it didn't matter... he couldn't take my thoughts, or my dreams. I spent a lot of time thinking of the moment I would grow up! and be an adult! and not have to answer to anyone! What. a. dumbass.
       I spent a lot of time looking for acceptance. What little I did manage to find was fleeting. Because instead of looking within me, I was looking for it in others. Validating myself by what others thought of me. My first drug experience was in high school, a boy who liked me spiked my chocolate shake with mesculine (a hallucinogenic) without my knowing. I was expelled for 4 months, he was expelled forever. When I returned, no one treated me the same because now I was considered a 'druggie'. I quit one month after returning. Soon after I found myself caught up with people I barely knew and trying all different drugs. I took things based on someone holding it out and saying... "it won't hurt you, try it!" I began a downward spiral of relationships with boys and then men who weren't right. Those bad boys that girls love so much... I wanted them. I wasn't much of a threat either because I was 'one of them'. I was able to distract them long enough to bed me because of my eagerness to please. I went from one relationship to another, searching but not finding, that elusive feeling that I was someone. I didn't realize that I would never find it in another. I didn't realize that for a very long time.
       Looking back, I am surprised I am alive. I pushed my personal envelope soooo far. Yet. I still live. I still am. Wonder why?