Did I mention....(WARNING-HEAVY)
Yeah...so umm I just finished preparing documentation for my Grandma Kendrick (Adoptive Grandmother of Stepmother's Side).
It proves without a doubt what I somehow always knew. Susan Kendrick filled my head with lies in the hopes that I would choose her over my natural god given family.
When I proved her wrong, she gave up. I was 15, had already tried to commit suicide at 14 (yes she made me feel like it would be better to die than have to live with her another day). She had kicked me out of the apartment on College Drive in Santa Maria that we had earned together. Or rather that I earned because to have a child meant to have the right to free care. Or something. Fuck, so anyway.
My first boyfriends mother (Susan Gabler) mentioned to me that if I was receiving income each month for my temporary mental condition and I was living in their home I should receive my own money. Seemed fair right, after all I almost died. 25 more generic Tylenol and I would have died within a week of liver failure.
So I stay moved out and I take my money with me. So she calls, says I am not her daughter and that I should come pick up my clothes off the back porch before she set them on fire. She kept all of the things I enjoyed such as my stereo, my daybed (which I was paying for as part of my learning personal responsibility), my music and books. I would learn years later that she signed full custody over to Fred Garcia before she left Cali.
That's one.
Fast forward to the ripe old age of 17. She had been living on her own (well kinda) for over a year. I make plans to go out to see her. I partially pay for my ticket (or maybe all it doesn't really matter) and had a HUGE to do list for while I was there. We made it to day 3 at which point she conveniently asks me to attend Wed. night service at the family church. Um NO! Well we get back to her apartment and I have a smoke which I know she can't stand but I am unwilling to change for her anymore, well or so I thought.
At the drop of a hat I am all of a sudden dealing with a completely different person. She asks me if I want my Grandpa Kendrick to have another stroke. She accuses me of being a horrible daughter, says I am just like Fred and I need to leave. "You are not the daughter I raised, I don't know you. I don't love you."
That's two.
Consquently I refused to contact her for nine years. I only contacted her for the first time out of a sense of obligation. She deserved (or so I thought) to know that the man who had deceived her for so many years might finally kick the ole bucket. And now we are back to the present.
A week ago today approx. 11 hours after the day started guess what words I am hearing coming out of her mouth again.
That's right folks you guessed it. "You are not my daughter and I don't have to take this."
That's three.
I have a thing about personal pain, and deception. With so many liers around you after a while you just seem to sense the truth about a situation without having to "think" about it.
Susan Kendrick does believe that she loves me.
Susan should have never been allowed to be my mother. I already had one. Betty Jean Roberts.
Who?
My biological mother. I was forbidden to see her until I turned 18. This was Susan Kendricks request, and apparently she was the only one who didn't want me to know where I really came from.
Betty Jean was born in Louisiana and she was a year younger than my father when they married. Things seemed fine until one day Betty Jean went totally bonkers. That is when her condition became very apparent to the new family she had made.
Fred her husband didn't understand. How could he, Betty Jean didn't even understand and she was diagnosed at the age of 13 with Paranoid Schizophrenia. At that point in time the medical society still felt it necessary to treat her condition with shock treatments. Yeah, you know the kind, just a little jolt. HMMMMM.
Somewhere along the way Fred and Betty had a child, an enters on stage right my sister Bethany May Garcia.
Bethany has always seemed to hate me, just because I exsist. Now I finally understand why. I still feel that it is unfair. Afterall she actually received phone calls from our mother when she was a young girl.
As for me, I have one picture of the two of us together. That's it.
But to Bethany I was the lucky one. Fred molested her, messed with her mother's prescriptions, dumped her on Grandma Garcia and little ole me seemed to get the perfect nuclear family.
It gets worse but frankly I could care. Its water under the bridge as "they" often like to say.
Did I mention I liked pain? Recently I invited Susan Kendrick to BM with a LARGE WARNING. If you go mom, you have to pretty much take care of yourself. I was going to do all the things that had been done for me in past years.
Today at 4:30am PST and revoked that invitation. Uh. I just can't believe I was setting myself up to be hurt a fourth time.
I hope this helps explain why I have such an easy time calling a mentor my mom. At least I felt/feel that they deserved respect for sharing experiences, and teaching by example.
I still only have one father. Just one.
I have never needed anymore....
So just remember folks, you may start out with misleading data but somehow someway we always find truth.
Goodnight :)
It proves without a doubt what I somehow always knew. Susan Kendrick filled my head with lies in the hopes that I would choose her over my natural god given family.
When I proved her wrong, she gave up. I was 15, had already tried to commit suicide at 14 (yes she made me feel like it would be better to die than have to live with her another day). She had kicked me out of the apartment on College Drive in Santa Maria that we had earned together. Or rather that I earned because to have a child meant to have the right to free care. Or something. Fuck, so anyway.
My first boyfriends mother (Susan Gabler) mentioned to me that if I was receiving income each month for my temporary mental condition and I was living in their home I should receive my own money. Seemed fair right, after all I almost died. 25 more generic Tylenol and I would have died within a week of liver failure.
So I stay moved out and I take my money with me. So she calls, says I am not her daughter and that I should come pick up my clothes off the back porch before she set them on fire. She kept all of the things I enjoyed such as my stereo, my daybed (which I was paying for as part of my learning personal responsibility), my music and books. I would learn years later that she signed full custody over to Fred Garcia before she left Cali.
That's one.
Fast forward to the ripe old age of 17. She had been living on her own (well kinda) for over a year. I make plans to go out to see her. I partially pay for my ticket (or maybe all it doesn't really matter) and had a HUGE to do list for while I was there. We made it to day 3 at which point she conveniently asks me to attend Wed. night service at the family church. Um NO! Well we get back to her apartment and I have a smoke which I know she can't stand but I am unwilling to change for her anymore, well or so I thought.
At the drop of a hat I am all of a sudden dealing with a completely different person. She asks me if I want my Grandpa Kendrick to have another stroke. She accuses me of being a horrible daughter, says I am just like Fred and I need to leave. "You are not the daughter I raised, I don't know you. I don't love you."
That's two.
Consquently I refused to contact her for nine years. I only contacted her for the first time out of a sense of obligation. She deserved (or so I thought) to know that the man who had deceived her for so many years might finally kick the ole bucket. And now we are back to the present.
A week ago today approx. 11 hours after the day started guess what words I am hearing coming out of her mouth again.
That's right folks you guessed it. "You are not my daughter and I don't have to take this."
That's three.
I have a thing about personal pain, and deception. With so many liers around you after a while you just seem to sense the truth about a situation without having to "think" about it.
Susan Kendrick does believe that she loves me.
Susan should have never been allowed to be my mother. I already had one. Betty Jean Roberts.
Who?
My biological mother. I was forbidden to see her until I turned 18. This was Susan Kendricks request, and apparently she was the only one who didn't want me to know where I really came from.
Betty Jean was born in Louisiana and she was a year younger than my father when they married. Things seemed fine until one day Betty Jean went totally bonkers. That is when her condition became very apparent to the new family she had made.
Fred her husband didn't understand. How could he, Betty Jean didn't even understand and she was diagnosed at the age of 13 with Paranoid Schizophrenia. At that point in time the medical society still felt it necessary to treat her condition with shock treatments. Yeah, you know the kind, just a little jolt. HMMMMM.
Somewhere along the way Fred and Betty had a child, an enters on stage right my sister Bethany May Garcia.
Bethany has always seemed to hate me, just because I exsist. Now I finally understand why. I still feel that it is unfair. Afterall she actually received phone calls from our mother when she was a young girl.
As for me, I have one picture of the two of us together. That's it.
But to Bethany I was the lucky one. Fred molested her, messed with her mother's prescriptions, dumped her on Grandma Garcia and little ole me seemed to get the perfect nuclear family.
It gets worse but frankly I could care. Its water under the bridge as "they" often like to say.
Did I mention I liked pain? Recently I invited Susan Kendrick to BM with a LARGE WARNING. If you go mom, you have to pretty much take care of yourself. I was going to do all the things that had been done for me in past years.
Today at 4:30am PST and revoked that invitation. Uh. I just can't believe I was setting myself up to be hurt a fourth time.
I hope this helps explain why I have such an easy time calling a mentor my mom. At least I felt/feel that they deserved respect for sharing experiences, and teaching by example.
I still only have one father. Just one.
I have never needed anymore....
So just remember folks, you may start out with misleading data but somehow someway we always find truth.
Goodnight :)