I saw the Transformers movie yesterday. In itself, that is no great feat. But for me it was. I saw the Transformer movies with Jake. In between the name calling, gas lighting, and walking on egg shells, we did normal things. Movies, private jokes, and we had dreams about our future. But going to the movies was our thing. We saw all but one Twilight movie together ( something I am sure he wants to keep to himself) and most of the Transformer movies together. He also had a thing for action movies. Not my first choice, but I would go just to make him happy. He would get sour patch watermelons and I would go for peanut M&M’s. We sat close, entangled in each other and enjoyed our time together. So when the latest installment of my all time favorite 80’s cartoon remake was released, it made me think of him and if I wanted to see it at all…But I did. And I was excited to go. I have a thing for Optimus Prime and not much can keep me from seeing him on the big screen. As I searched movie times my mind scanned to who I could go with. I am ok with going alone and it would not have been my first time doing that, but I scanned my mind nonetheless. Hours later I was sitting in the ice cold theater, a place you can often find me in the summer months, and I was snug between my oldest son and my only Goddaughter. As we sat together all facing the same way with our legs sprawled out in front of us, I fell into my seat between them a little softer. I had a moment where I visioned grabbing their hands and holding them, but then I realized that was a crazy idea and that idea stayed in my head where it belonged. But I was happy. I was with people I loved and who loved me back and I was watching a movie I was excited about. I realized after the movie and on the way home, Jake never popped up in my mind. His presence was not missed, or not thought of. He, like on my date with Matt, was not there like he had been so many times before. His memory holding me back from so much. I had to decided he was no longer worth thinking about or associating him with things he once was associated with. It was up to me to move on and leave him in my rear view. And I did.
So what causes someone to get into a relationship like that and stay? A healthy minded woman will not voluntary walk in and stay in a bad situation. Wether it’s a romantic relationship, friendship or even job. A healthy, cared for person will know his/her value, see the red flags and peace out. But not all of us are lucky enough to be raised by healthy parents. I am not saying everyone who has healthy parents make the best decisions and I am not saying that people with unhealthy parents make bad decisions. I am giving the perspective from my own life. Going through recovery, just celebrated 3 years, has opened my eyes, heart, and mind to why I made bad relationship decisions. The following is an excerpt from my book. This is some of the dreaded chapter ten I have been struggling with. I am not yet finished with it. I have been working out the kinks, but I feel open enough to share this bit with you.
“I turned 9 that October and as Thanksgiving approached, so did the holidays. As we prepared for the holiday at school, Mrs. Franklin handed out a writing assignment. She handed each kid in the class a greeting card. As she walked around the room handing them out randomly she explained to the class that we were to look at our greeting cards, study them and describe in an essay what we saw. We were to be creative because this was a test grade. As she passed my desk she handed me my card. I looked at it and liked what I saw. Mine was a Christmas card. There were animal decorations hanging from a tree branch and they were wearing little Christmas hats and holding candy canes. Without thinking or stressing, I began to write. What poured out of me that day was the beginning of me. I easily described what was on my card. I gave them names, jobs and had them in conversations with each other. To me, this was easy. I wanted each assessment to be this easy. I had no idea if what I had done was good or not, but I happily handed in my essay and opened my dreaded math book. I hated math. I still hate math. A few days later my teacher told me she had called my mom so they could discuss my essay. I looked at her while her words came at me like daggers. My little stomach dropped and I wanted to poop. I had no idea why my mom was coming in, but I knew I didn’t like the idea. I went back to my desk and put my head down. As the recess bell rang all the kids left, except me. I waited in my dirty clothes for my mother. I lifted my head when Mrs. Franklin said my mom was there. We all sat down at the community table and my mom shot me a look. A “ why am I here look”, and again I wanted to poop. Mrs. Franklin pulled out my essay and the greeting card I wrote about. She read it out loud and as she did she had a smile across her face and she laughed.
As she finished she looked at my mom and she said “ Kelly is an amazing writer. She’s so creative and funny. She’s going to be a writer when she grows up.”
My face lite up. I did a good job. She continued to say how great my essay was and she asked me if she could keep it to show the other students what a good essay looks like. I looked over at my mom knowing she was going to wrap me up in her arms and tell me how proud she was of me. But instead when I looked at her with nothing but hope in my heart and big smile across my face, she had a scowl on her face. She asked my teacher if that was the only reason she was asked to come to the school. My teacher had a blank look on her face and my mom looked at me and said “Writing is not an art form”. She got up and left. She didn’t say goodbye to me. She did’t look at me. I was crushed. I felt bad. Ashamed. Stupid. My smile faded and so did my spirit.”