Homless?

Since recovering from bulimia, I have written a book about my experience with it. I did it to give back and with the intention of helping others if they too find themselves in an addiction of any kind. I found my way out of the deep, dark tunnel I had crawled into when I was 17 years-old. All I needed was a little help. My wonderful therapist, Ed Bloch, was that gift of help for me. He gently guided me through the darkness... the following is the 2nd chapter from my book.

2. HOMELESS?

I often joke that I was born a poor, white child, but it’s actually true. I guess it all started before I was born. I was a mistake. My mom didn’t know she was pregnant with me until she was 3 1/2 months along and felt me kicking. By the time I arrived, mom was pretty sad. I was told growing up that my dad was drunk at a bar while I was being born. I’ve since learned that my dad probably was at a bar, however he was not there just to have a drink, he was “devoting literally every waking moment to his ‘baby’” according to an article in an Oregon newspaper written by John Wenderborn. His ‘baby’ was the Headwater Booking Agency. He was doing his best to provide for his family and create a successful talent-booking agency for Oregon musicians. It just so happens that during the time of my birth it was his company’s biggest growth (it doubled in seven months starting January, 1971). His company stimulated an almost nonexistent market for creative music in the area. I came along on February 1st, 1971 at 3:33am. Mom was giving birth to me and she already had a one-year-old daughter, my sister, Lisa, to care for and a husband who was working day and night whom she felt was cheating on her. I can understand my mom’s view of the situation. She was a young girl giving birth to her second child mostly by herself. Delicate matters for sure. The mind can play terrible games to a loving, sensitive and emotional, not to mention hormonal, young woman. My mom was so stressed out that every time she would feed me from her breast I would throw up. Irony? Ha ha. Life’s cruel joke (actually, my bad one!) Her milk was full of stress. I was a burden, before I knew what that word meant. I was a burden before I knew there were words.

Thirteen years later… the year was 1984, I recall very clearly one beautiful summer day sittin’ in the back seat of our mom’s old rustish colored Toyota “Crayola” (as we called it) at the local Zip’s fast food restaurant in a small town in the northern mountains of Idaho where we lived. Two boys pulled up next to us (in Idaho we could drive at 14). The boys were checking us out and one boy says to the next, “I get the brunette.” Back in the day my sis had light brown hair and I had blond hair. That comment sticks to a girl’s ribs, so to speak. I felt like “the ugly one,” you know, the “take one for the team” one.

My sister was one of the “popular girls” in school, a cheerleader, she ran with all the popular chicks, had the cute boyfriend, was always around friends. I got straight “A’s” and was always by myself daydreaming about horses. I was known as “Lisa’s sister.” In grade school some new girl my sister was showing around the school thought I was mentally handicapped because she saw me and my friend galloping around the playground on our hands and feet at recess pretending we were horses. Yeah, that was me.

My mom has always had a great sense of humor through all the trials and tribulations that we call growing up. I truly love that about her. She was married and divorced three times before I was ten and worked three jobs to support the three of us. Heck, she was trying to find mister right. It ain’t easy. I admire how amazingly strong that woman was and still is. I recall my mom empowering my sister and I by telling us that we could be anything we wanted when we grew up. Anything. I was so excited because I knew exactly what I wanted to be, a horse! She just smiled and casually said, “ok.” I’m so proud of her for accepting my answer and not smacking me with the reality that that wasn’t really an option. She just said “ok” and let me believe in myself. I have kept that belief to this day. Thankfully I did change my mind about being a horse. Who knows what could have happened!? But horses were my world. If life felt upside down, there were always horses to dream about.

I also clearly recall a snowy evening that same year, standing behind my mom as she was going through the monthly bills that were written in hand as a long list on a light greenish-white spiral notebook. Her sense of humor was nowhere to be seen. She said that she couldn’t pay all the bills that month. It was not the first time this had happened; it’s just one time that stuck out for me. I was really paying attention. We were using food stamps and getting some groceries donated from our local church. I remember staring down at her long list of bills, I thought to myself, “I will NEVER have bills.” Then reality shot through my head “OH MY GOD. WE WILL BE HOMELESS. How do I help? What do I do?” I was too young to work and I felt like a burden to my mom. I was costing her even more money just by being there. That was my choice to take that on. My mom did not do that to me, I chose that all by myself. I have chosen “feeling like a burden” as a theme in my life. It’s popped up all over the place. Silly me! I am proud of the fact that I am now fully aware of this, however. Anyway, after exhausting all possible thoughts in my tiny blond head as to how I will pay the rent and the rest of the bills that month, I went outside and pretended I was a Grand-Prix show jumping horse and jumped a perfect round with zero faults in our garden. Fifteen times. My coping mechanism. We did not end up homeless, thank God!