My old self....

When I moved to GA in my late 20s, I was fresh outta my momma's house and I have never been on my own. I was moving in with my best friend and trying to settle into my new life. I had big dreams about my new life in Georgia. I dreamed of  pursuing my dream of being a court reporter, working in a great agency, seeing the sights, meeting a wonderful man, getting married, having another kid and living happily ever after.. Whew! What's that saying? Tell God your plans and watch him laugh? Little did I know how much of a sense of humor He has....

The only problem with dreams are reality. In reality, I was torn between my old self and my new self. The old me was full of anger and disappointment. My previous relationship had left me dejected, defeated, abused and with low self esteem. My new self was full of hope. My new self was ready to explore her surroundings.. Make new friends. Find the hot spots. Get settled into my new life but my old self rebelled...My old self wanted (and did...for a while) to stay in the house, cry, be homesick, miss my ex, call my mother, call my daughter and be miserable... See, I left everything back home. Everything that meant the most to me. Everything that was near and dear to my heart....but more importantly, I left my child.

Today, my daughter is a beautiful woman. At the time I left home, she was 10 years old. She was a bright eyed, dimpled chin, smiling child. She was so happy. Always smiling. She was very loving and my one and only baby. I left her thinking I was doing a good thing (sorta). I left her because I needed a break. I needed to get me together. I was so fucking miserable. My heart was broken. I left her thinking she didn't need to see her mother broken. I left her with her father, who I knew wasn't the greatest father in the world, but my mind was clouded and my judgment so off that I left her anyway.

I didn't realize the impact of my leaving her behind. I didn't realize how many sleepless nights I would endure or that she would endure during my abasence. I didn't realize that the better decision would have been for her to come with me to see her mother go from a spineless little girl to a strong, independent woman. I didn't realize that because I was so broken that she, too, was broken. I didn't know how to save her or me, for that matter. I didn't realize that just having her with me would have been enough. I didn't realize that even though I called every day and helped with homework over the phone or went home for every single birthday or brought her to Georgia for every single break, that she was hurting. I remember a particular time, she came to visit and it was time for her to leave but she cried and whined the whole time she was with me.  I was so frustrated with her by the time we drove to the airport, I damn near threw her on the plane. I made a habit of not watching her plane take off because from experience, I would leave the airport crying hysterically so I would put her on the plane and walk away. Now had I been in my "right" mind, I would have known that my absence was the cause of all the tears: hers and mine. But like the self absorbed person I was, it had to be her and not me. I was just crying because she was leaving and I wouldn't see her for a while. I never looked too deeply into it.. I couldn't.. not just yet.