Zodi Files 1

Over the next few months there will be postings called the Zodi Files. These will be things that are bothering me in my life. They are not grammatically correct or even worded properly. I don’t really care. My friend asked me to write about myself and things that have been building up in me through out my life.

Some of the things in here will probably offend some people, and you may discover things about me that you never knew about me. There will be family and friends I mention in here, I do not want you to take offense to anything I may say about you in any of these things. Jay this goes double for you. I’m going to ask that if you have questions you message them to me. Do not post any comments on these as they will be deleted. Kudos are fine.

This is all just a way for me to heal myself mentally. It will help me get over things that are really bothering me in my past. So here we go.

I was asked to write an essay about myself, but I don’t know where to begin. Just thinking about having to do it and have it make sense seems like a chore but one that I’m willing to do. When I start writing things usually just come to kinda like a dam is broken open and I just go with the flow of things writing whatever comes to mind and then sorting out later. So hopefully that will take effect once I start things off. I’m not exactly sure why my friend wants an essay about myself, or I am and I’m just not willing to openly admit that it’s going to help me. So here I go.

My name is Patricia, I’m soon to be twenty-three and I live in a shell. No I’m not a turtle, I’m just introverted. Everything about the world outside my computer scares me. However it doesn’t scare me enough to incapacitate me and keep me from going outside. I wake up each morning and my first thoughts are why does he have to scream like to get me up. The he being my one year old son. The joy of my life, I would do anything for that little boy. He’s my reason for breathing. I used to tell my friends and family that if I didn’t have my son, I would probably be dead. This isn’t really true but there are times in my life where I just felt that suicide was always looking better and better with each passing day. I’m grateful I have my son, he’s saved my life more than once just by forcing me to think what his life would be like if he didn’t have me in.

A long time ago before my son came into my life my mother asked me why I wanted a baby so badly. I told her I wanted someone who didn’t know me and wouldn’t judge me to love me for me. Mom was not happy about this response, she had always thought she and my father had given unconditional love. They did except it wasn’t expressed openly a lot in my family. Love was never withheld from my brother and I, we knew it was there but it was at times something we feared would be taken away if we did something wrong.

I remember being little and for the first time not kissing my mom and dad goodnight. I just said good night and went to bed. This wasn’t really anything traumatic to me as it was more of a way to express my independence. I was a big girl and didn’t need mommy and daddy to tuck me in. Now I wish I could turn back the hands of time and give that kiss and be tucked away in to my world of safety. My mom and dad were and are always there for me… that’s a lie. They are there for me when it’s convienent for them. I don’t mind this, it keeps them from meddling in my life and telling me what needs to change about who I am. What they seem to forget is they made me the way I am. I grew up watching the financial struggles and seeing the destruction it left. I was 21 when my parents separated and started to file for divorce. That hit me really hard. I hated my mother for being sneaky, I hated my father for keeping secrets about our financial problems from everyone thinking he could fix it all himself and give my family everything they wanted. Christmas time is a perfect example, mom and dad would make sure all the bills were paid in full before Christmas, then they would get presents for everyone, including the dogs. Mom usually asked for the most expensive stuff, like a printer dock for her camera, or her mothers ring. I stopped making a Christmas list when I discovered Santa wasn’t real any more. So my parents would just ask me what I wanted. I’d tell them gift cards. This was unacceptable so they forced me to write down some things so they had some idea of what I wanted. My brother’s list were usually pages long. Needless to say we usually got everything we wanted and then some. January rolled around and the problems would start all over again, electric got shut off in the winter time, thank god we had a fire place that worked. Then the foreclosure papers were starting to come in. We could always tell when dad got a new one in, dinner would tense. Finally we lost the house.

Mom disappeared for a weekend. She went to my uncles house and stayed there. She didn’t call or tell anyone she just didn’t come home from work. We knew what time she was supposed to be home and we would plan dinner around her schedule. We called her and she didn’t answer. I don’t know what was going through her mind, but I was thinking she’s in a dead area and stuck in traffic or worse. She was in an accident. Finally that night I called her in near hysterics and proceeded to freak out on her voice mail. I wanted me to make her suffer, in my mind she had abandoned my brother and I. Not to mention she left a letter to my father… who slept alone that night. I never seen a man look older in a matter of minutes then when I watch my dad go to bed that night.

When all these problems started I was married and we decided to go to Wales. March 17th we took an eight hour plane flight overseas. That was uncomfortable and noisy but the movies were good. I thought things would be different over in Wales, and I wasn’t disappointed. I seen and learned so much but then things got bad. I became Cinderella to my in laws. This was tough, they expected me to clean and cook and make sure tea was made by the time they came home from work. I couldn’t stand cleaning and the food over there is gross. I was appalled by their treatment of me. I wasn’t allowed to work while I was over there, I wasn’t a citizen, instead they wanted me to be their slave. This cause many problems between my ex and his family. I decided after I found out I was pregnant that I wanted to go home, I already had a plane ticket and I was either going by myself or with my husband, either way I was going home. I bonded with my family and got closer to them, I forgave my mother, and father and even helped them both out. When I came home again I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten for my dad. Here we were losing our house my dad was still living there, it had gotten so bad the water been shut off, and the smell was horrible, the grass wasn’t cut, my father just stopped caring. The house was a wreck and he even told me that he tried to clean up. While we were driving home from the airport he told me Stefanie had moved in. I vowed to have her out in 3 days or less. I hated her with a blinding passion.

She was a sneaky person, when I first met her I was in love with her and we dated off and on, she was my age. Then she was sent away and I couldn’t have been happier, sure I was mad at her for fucking up but I still happier because things calmed down. When she got out she weedled her way back into my life and proceeded to fuck it up again. She told me she loved me and we were on again off again, once my husband came into my life I seen what I had feared the most, she was going to try and take him from. She nearly succeeded, after a night of fun between her, myself and my ex, she slept with him. I should have left him told him I wanted nothing to do with him and moved on. The only reasons I had my suspicions were because she had done this to me before. I knew my ex’s password to his email and I was being… sneaky and read them, I came across ones from her and was pissed about what happened. He had to return home because his visa had expired and he would be coming back shortly after that. I confronted him about it over the phone and through tears and screaming we sorted it out. He wasn’t my husband then, just my fiancée. When I came home from Wales I found out she was living with my father, and to make matters worse they were dating. It took me telling her to wake her son up so that he could eat and play to get her to get out of my house. My father said to me “doesn’t my happiness matter to you” I remember countering with, “when it comes to her being your life, no, and she isn’t welcomed anywhere I live.” I decided I couldn’t live with my father with the house the way it was. So I stayed at mom’s place until we got the apartment. We moved in the end of June. My husband and I were expecting a child together so we were looking for a place of our own. People wouldn’t hire me because of my “preexisting” condition so my husband worked, and worked his ass off. About this time I was feeling like caged bird. I suppressed the feeling and carried on.

As time went on my stomach got bigger and bigger, I felt wonderful but was completely bored with being pregnant. I watched a commercial and just started to bawl my eyes out. I felt fat and disgusting you know the typical pregnancy things. I cleaned the house like crazy, then we found out that we were going to be able to move downstairs into the basement apartment. Yay!! My own place. Mom and I cleaned and cleaned and made it perfect for me to bring my baby home. It had one problem. BUGS! I had grew up with them and Philadelphia and wasn’t about to go through that again. So we bought stuff to fumigate the place and with winter coming things would be ok. Not. We lived in the corner house conversion apartment, near the sewer. Water bugs, big fucking black things. I couldn’t walk around my house without sneakers or slippers on. My husband would get up at 4 in the morning to get to work. Often this would wake me up, I was never a heavy sleeper in the first place. One morning I woke up and got something to drink then went back to bed, ten minutes later I flew out of bed and freaked out because there was a bug in my bed. This sent me upstairs to my dad apartment where I slept on his couch until he woke up and asked what happened. This happened several times. Before my son was born.

November came and that meant the new harry potter movie was coming out. On the 18th I made sure my brother and I had tickets to go see the movie opening night, and he and I went to see it. Twenty minutes into the movie I started to have unbearable cramps I didn’t understand what was happening, I hadn’t my baby moving at all that day so I was sort of worried. However, my brother and I were having fun watching the movie together. I excused myself because I had to pee quite badly, when I came back I told my brother that I thought I was having contractions, he was worried, and asked me if we had to leave, I told him no that I would be alright and not to worry about me. I stayed for the whole movie, all three hours. When it was over I called my mom by now the contractions were coming 5 minute a part for an hour. She came to get me and I went to the service desk and told them I had an emergency, that I was in labor and needed a place to sit. The girl at the counter sent a message out over her walkie and soon I had the manager, an usher and a nurse who had gotten out of line to see her viewing of harry potter to sit with me. They helped me to a bench and the nurse held my hand and helped me with breathing technicques until my mom showed up. The manager left and came back with two free movie tickets for me to come back and see the movie anytime I wanted. I was happy to accept them and thanked them for being quick about handling the situation.

I was taken home to gather some things and get my husband. He was dazed and kept asking me if I was sure I was in labor. I kept telling him yes and gathering my stuff, he was completely useless as most men are when it comes to their woman being in labor. We made our way to hospital and the contractions were getting worse and worse, I prayed that I wouldn’t give birth to my child in a brand new caddy with white leather seats. That is all I worried about the whole way there. Once in the hospital I was taken up to the maternity ward. They measured and poked around and seen that I was indeed ready to give birth. I was nasty by this time, I wanted drugs and wasn’t thinking coherently the nurse was completely useless to me, and messed up getting my fluids started three time, before she called another nurse who got it in one shot. Soon the drug man came and I couldn’t have been happier than a pig in shit. I got my epidural and soon everything seemed wonderful again. Things were going alright, I slept for a little bit, and then it was time to push. Two hours and seven minutes of pushing and my little darling boy was born at 5:17am, six pounds five ounces, nineteen inches long, he was perfect, ten fingers ten toes, two eyes everything was in order. Except, he was the wrong gender. I wanted a girl, I wanted a girl in the worse way. My whole motto when I was pregnant with him was “think pink” but he was boy. When I first seen him I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted to sleep. I held him for a moment, my husband was crying tears of happiness, I just wanted to sleep. So they took him to the nursery for his tests and I passed out. I knew that I didn’t want to be one of those mother who was going to milk the hospital for all it was worth, I wanted out, boredom had set in and people had gone home leaving me to own devices. I held my baby, changed him, fed him, and he slept, he didn’t seem to like being swaddles so I just held him close to me and kept the blanket over both of us. Visitors came to see the new addition and the new mommy but I’m sure the baby was more interesting.

This is where I will end it for now. I’ll write more later when I feel like it. But for now I’m done.