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Growing Up TayTay.

I really like this blogging shit! I look forward to these posts and venting about whatever I have going on. I'm more of a surface level person unless someone asks a specific question about me or something I've been through. So this platform is allowing me to dig a little deeper without the direct reaction or judgement from speaking to someone, but leave the door open for conversation with whoever reads it. While talking to my cousin/friend about the blog, she suggested going a little deeper so you all can have a better understanding of who I am, and why I am that way. So, let's see how far I can go without rambling and/or crying.

I'm an only child (from my mother), grandchild and I was an only great-grandchild until my second cousins started having kids. What does all that mean? I guess some would consider me spoiled, I consider myself blessed (fight me if you disagree). I was able to see and do a lot of things during my childhood, and I was never lonely. People ask that all the time and it annoys me. I wasn't some weird kid sitting in the room by myself. I had friends, cousins.... I went to school and met people. I wasn't socially awkward and I knew how to share and communicate. But, with all the good, also comes the bad. Whenever I messed up, it wasn't just mom and dad reprimanding me... it was the entire family. Imagine your mother, grandmother, aunt, and uncle all being disappointed AND angry at you for decisions you made as child and no matter what you say, what excuse you gave, or whatever truth you told, they were right, you were wrong and your opinion or voice didn't matter. I faced that a lot. Because I was the "baby," everyone always had to know everything. During my adolescent years, this often made me either lie or just not say anything about what was going on, but of course I learned quickly that lying made shit 10 x's worst than it needed to be, so I held a lot in. Early on I became someone that just didn't say much. I talked when someone talked to me and I've carried that into my adult life. It isn't so bad now, because I believe its made me very observant. I figure out people and pay attention to patterns and I can more than likely figure out someone's reaction to a situation before it happens.

My father and that entire side of the family was/is absent, and that didn't start effecting me until I was older. Once my teenage years hit and I got a car, I remember driving to his house to try to visit. There were plenty of times his ex-wife, told me he wasn't home, but I had seen him walk into the back room before she came to the door. I would call, and she would claim that he wasn't home. I didn't know if it was her doing or his at the time, but I didn't understand why. I didn't want any money, frankly, I could have probably helped him out with as much as I worked during my senior year of high school on top of my mother and grandmother giving me majority of what I asked for. I just wanted a relationship. I had no clue why he acted the way he did because when I'd see him in public with my mother, they had a seemingly cordial relationship. Of course there were times he'd say he was coming to see me or pick me up and he wouldn't. I felt like a bother, so I just stopped and to be quite fucking honest, it made me so angry. I couldn't comprehend why he lived less than 5 minutes away and wouldn't take the time out to see his biological child and lived with and took care of a step-child. It confused me, and rather than show that emotion and ask someone else for an answer, I held that in. It became one of those things I brushed off as me not caring about. I put it in a space in my mind with other things that bothered me that I didn't talk about. I had formed the ability to put it so far away from my emotions I, too, believed I didn't care. But, I did...and still do.

Before I moved to Charlotte, NC in 2016 I contacted him and asked if we could sit down and talk. I recall him saying something along the lines of he wasn't ready to do that and that's when I completely wiped my hands with the thought. It took so much courage to even ask him for that and to be rejected again seemed outrageous. Weeks late he contacted me saying we could talk and I wasn't with the shits. I'm a full ass adult and there's no way in hell that you're going to continue to do shit on your time. I didn't feel bad for not responding to him, and I still don't. I don't want that conversation anymore. What I've come to ACCEPT is this; there is nothing my father can say or do to erase the hurt I've dealt with for nearly 30 years of him not being around. I will have a rebuttal for every excuse or "reason" he tries to give for not being around. Because, to me, there's no excuse good enough. I was there, 5 minutes away, and not even a pop up or a phone call. I can only move forward with a relationship with him if that is my choice. But right now, at this moment, it is not. And, it isn't an angry feeling, it's peaceful. I've given him opportunity to holla and he didn't take advantage. So, it's time to heal that part of me as best I can.

* So, I read this over, which I haven't been doing with a lot of my post because I don't want to over think them, and I want them to be as real and conversational as possible. But, I feel as if this is still surface level. Maybe I haven't dealt with all this as much as I thought I did, or maybe I have and I really am in my healing process. I'm not sure. But, it's a start. And you gotta start somewhere... Beyonce wasn't built in a day, right?

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I don’t even want to look at the date of the last time I blogged because I’m so ashamed that I let this piece of me fall to the wayside. However, I’m baaaaccckkk (for now) and committing to bi-weekly