Truthfully, my sad little co-dependent self seemed unable to say no as long as I was living with someone else; as a single mother this was a dilemma of the highest magnitude. No matter how much I practiced the "no" word, yes always emerged from my lips. My reputation preceded me everywhere I went.
Tag : Single Parenting
Chapter 6
My mental health wouldn’t allow such sound decisions. I, the product of a dysfunctional alcoholic family, was anything but daddy’s little girl. I was the spit in his eye, the stone in his shoe, the child he tried hard to wipe from the face of the earth every chance he got. In short, my inner child desperately needed to feel loved and wanted - just once in her life.
Chapter 7
Despite my tendencies toward self-destruction, which had been mentioned once or twice by a few former friends and ex-therapists, I like to think of myself as a visionary. (Perspective is everything.) One could say that our foray into living in other people’s houses was a brilliant move that perfectly positioned us to ride out the worldwide economic collapse. It all began innocently enough with a suggestion from my mother. In all fairness to her, it really began with a red sofa.
Chapter 8
My anit-dates would be all gussied up, shinning like a new penny with broad non-chemically treated smiles, clearly excited about the evening they mistakenly believed awaited them. I'd open the door and say, "What are you (emphasize, you) doing here?" Their explanation followed. These were nice guys, the kind of guys I didn’t like.
Chapter 15
In that moment the inexplicable grace of God shook my world. My right leg was growing, with twelve witnesses gathered around me. The leg stretched outward, longer than the left, as if to make a point, so that there would be no doubt as to what we’d seen. Then it moved back, perfectly even with the left.
Chapter 17
There weren’t a lot of photos of me in our house, I guess because I looked a lot like Edward Scissor Hands from the waist down, without the cute pouty expression, at least until I was three. After that I think my parents didn’t want to document my development. Denial would be everything if I was ever arrested.
Chapter 22
Before the full effects of dark vortex I had just stepped through could take hold Charles Manson entered our lives. His cult's brutal murder of Sharon Tate sent a shock wave that was to rip me from the arms of my tiny Episcopal safe house.
Chapter 26
I began plotting new strategies to eliminate the monster in our midst. The more authority he exerted, the more rebellious I became. Without much effort, our battle of wits turned into a full-contact sport, and some days I was winning. Point and counterpoint, check and checkmate. When he went to the country club for his five-martini lunches, I skipped school and charged lunch to his bill at the club, making sure to waltz past the bar in my bathing suit smiling sweetly into his drunken face. When he threatened me with another lock-up, I threatened him with what I knew about his drinking before going into the courtroom to try a case. I knew where every liquor bottle was hidden in his office. I was completely capable of exposing him, of ruining him; he could feel my palpable hatred and I his.