Broken...
Journal Entry #60786
My favorite show is forever The Cosby Show… Cancel culture don’t cancel me!!! Haha. Although my view about Bill Cosby is different now, back then, when I was growing up, THAT was my show. I always admired the family setting that show portrayed. I thought they were MY family.
I mean, my mother was the - charismatic, beautiful, kill you with one look - mother. While my father was the - easy going, never physically disciplined but disappointed, give me everything I wanted - father. Now that I think about it, growing up (and probably now) my life was close to The Cosby’s. Even though I didn’t have any siblings, the atmosphere and vibe was the same.
Until, that sad day no kid wants to hear…. “We’re getting a DIVORCE…”
I was 10 years old when my parents called it quits and it took a turn in my life tremendously. Some things I'm still getting over at almost 32.. it was difficult! Look, after so many years of envisioning us to be the 3 Cosby’s to it all falling apart just suddenly was a hard pill to swallow. I sunk into a deep depression. A depression that affected my grades, attitude and self-confidence. After already questioning myself, I didn’t feel worthy. I thought for a quick second that maybe I asked my parents for too much and was too spoiled that they couldn’t keep up.. my world turned upside down.
I saw a therapist. I cried. I questioned. I was angry. I was hurt. I felt like it was my dad’s fault for not fighting. I felt like it was my mom’s fault for not continuing to try. I felt like it was my fault because I had a lot of extra curricular activities. I was lost.
You know looking back I don’t think I ever really saw my parents be lovey-dovey. Didn’t hold hands. Never gave that vibe of “TV love”. Now that I’m thinking about it again, I’m pretty sure I never saw them kiss. But somehow that vibe of a loving household was still there.
Maybe they did everything they could to make it seem as though they were happy… for my sake. I always thought that if they loved me, they had to love each other. Or vice versa. Right?
This went down during middle school and in middle school I was a helper… a low key leader… but a chubby girl who got teased for choking her blue chucks and wearing an orange puffy coat in 90 degree weather. Middle school was tough. New territory. Trying to navigate through trying times all the while trying to keep my grades, head and attitude up.
Fast forward to high school and my attitude grew. Here I found out about the life I would possibly live. I found out about my bra size, marching band, friendship and my favorite, hotboxing. Super saints, hotboxing is a term referred to smoking marijuana in tight closed spaces with no ventilation. I could basically live any life I wanted. I mean my life was already split up. Living with mom Sunday through Thursday and seeing dad on Friday and Saturday. This was all a game. Nothing was for real.
So I practiced being someone I wasn’t simply because the truth hurt a little bit more than the white lie I was telling. I practiced percussion for hours and was committed to multiple ensembles so that my family would come together when I had concerts. I practiced being cool and goofy so my peers would stop the teasing. I practiced a lot. I was committed to a lot. But what was the point?!
Parents were telling me I needed to do this in order to obtain that, but isn’t everything temporary? “You’re kidding right? Because at this point commitment isn’t a thing… I mean why am I practicing so hard and constantly striving for something when the two most important people in my life didn’t even try as hard as I am at this very moment?!”
This became my approach to life.