Remember when I said this in my last post?
“Now I am not an advocate of spending your entire life mad at someone.
Truth be told, I don’t hold grudges.
For very long.
Okay so I do. Sue me! pero not for reals because you not gon get anything but a penny LOL.”
Well Day 4’s topic is Something You Have to Forgive Someone For. SMH this isn’t going to be fun.
For the most part, I really don’t hold grudges or stay mad for a long period of time nor do I hold shit over people’s heads. I realized several years ago being pissed at someone doesn’t help me or the other person. Besides life is too damn short to focus all my energy on whatever pissed me off in the first place. I learned that you can either forgive and forget or just forgive and hope to God that the person who wronged you doesn’t fuck up again.
Screw me one – shame on you
Screw me twice – shame on me
Screw me three times and you’re asking for a world of hurt and anguish!
I’m just sayin
I grew up an only child. I didn’t find out I had brothers until I believe I was in junior high or high school. My oldest brother is I believe four years older than me. My step brother is a year and four months and my baby brother is approximately eight years and five months younger than me. Our mothers’ ex-husband was a hoe! Not a whore because if that were true we’d have a dozen more siblings. Latimers are by far not an infertile family!
My mother divorced her ex-husband the year I turned three. The month before my third birthday my mother and I moved to Texas. For the first nine years, we lived with my grandparents. When I was in 4th or 5th grade, Mom and I moved “next door” to our very own house. I remember after we moved I would have dreams about Tutu (look I refuse to call him father or dad my blog my prerogative) almost weekly. Sometimes I would wake up crying. Sometimes I would wake angry. I would question my mother why he wasn’t around. What did I do to deserve this? She did her best to comfort me but nothing she did or said was ever enough. I wanted and needed answers from HIM. But he would never grant me the satisfaction of talking face to face coherently. In my ENTIRE life, I have seen the man maybe five times. Five times!!! See I got the shit end of the stick because my mother and I moved to Texas. If given the choice, I wouldn’t have moved here. I would have opted for living with family in California. At least then, I would have grown up around my older brother and developed some sort of relationship with Tutu. Makes logical sense, right?! Not so much.
Growing up, I blamed Tutu for everything that happened or didn’t happen. I blamed him for my mom having to struggle to raise me and finance my education at Baylor. I hated him more than anything for having other child and being happy with someone other than my mother. Did my mother deserve to be happy? Didn’t she deserve to have a life outside of a single mom? Didn’t I deserve to be a happy kid?
It took a really long time for me realize my parent’s divorce was NOT my fault nor did it have anything to do with me. My mother divorced him because he was and probably still is an alcoholic and drug addict. I was told he was so strung out once that he sold our TV so he could get high. What a shining example of a “father” right?
I don’t know what my or brothers’ lives would have been like if Tutu had been something more than just a sperm donor nor do I want to anymore. I grew up a few years ago and came to the conclusion that I had a few really great father figures in my life. These gentlemen were there for my mom and me more than Tutu probably ever wanted to be. So I forgave him. Yes just like that. As I said before, I cannot spend my whole life angry because it doesn’t benefit me or Tutu. Perhaps one day we’ll speak again but until then I am content living my life without him.
Thanks for reading…
The Southern Yankee
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