What a rambeling existance Ive lead, from a spure of the moment marriage that lasted a year at the age of 19 to being single until the age of nearly 30. Ive gone from a broken home and back more times in my life than I care to count. Ive had more step parents and siblings than I care to tick off, it would require the use of both hands to go from beginning to end.
Mara was a Finance Specialist by choice and a mother by almost accidental design. She had been diagnosed with unexplained infertility a year into marriage and before she and her husband Dan had even had time to make a decision about going down the long, heart wrenching and expensive fertility road, she called an adoption agency on a whim. She never expected the process to go smoothly but was pleasantly surprised how easily they were accepted as perspective adoptive parents. There were of course the home studies and the perspective parent classes, but all in all it was a bearable process.
Their first "almost adoption" was traumatic for them both, but was never truly meant to be. The father of the almost adopted child was never really on board, he had his doubts and reservations even when the child's mother was just talking about working with the adoption agency. The fact that Mara and Dan knew this to begin with should have helped them brace for that eventuality but still, it hurt. For Mara, losing a child to a failed adoption felt like a miscarriage for the infertile.
Despite this initial setback and heartbreak, they went forward with the adoption of their son Karter the next year even though there were also some concerns as to his birth fathers willingness to sign over his parental rights. The first year after his birth, Mara and Dan waited on pins an needles to see if the finalization of Karters adoption would go through. To lose a child after getting to know and love him would unbearable. Mara felt it would be easier to have her heart ripped out than to survive loosing Karter.
Their first "almost adoption" was traumatic for them both, but was never truly meant to be. The father of the almost adopted child was never really on board, he had his doubts and reservations even when the child's mother was just talking about working with the adoption agency. The fact that Mara and Dan knew this to begin with should have helped them brace for that eventuality but still, it hurt. For Mara, losing a child to a failed adoption felt like a miscarriage for the infertile.
Despite this initial setback and heartbreak, they went forward with the adoption of their son Karter the next year even though there were also some concerns as to his birth fathers willingness to sign over his parental rights. The first year after his birth, Mara and Dan waited on pins an needles to see if the finalization of Karters adoption would go through. To lose a child after getting to know and love him would unbearable. Mara felt it would be easier to have her heart ripped out than to survive loosing Karter.
I was standing in front of the brownstone; it looked just as it had when I was child. The brick and stone facade was crumbling in places and the casement windows were thick with pealing paint, their frames cracked. It was a building badly in need of repair. The site of it brought a rush of emotions, both pleasure and pain all at once. The musty smell of layer upon layer of old autumn leaves stung my nose and reminded me of the days when Sam and I would scrape them all together between the oak trees, only to jump and roll in them until they were once again spread across the yard.
Then the memories started, the ones I always try to push away, those of my sister headed down a disastrous path of drugs, sex, excesses of ever kind, and ultimately the death of my niece Brenna.
Despite the bad memories the dilapidated family brownstone could conjure up, Id bought myself a grand brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. I paid its $4 million dollar price tag with money Id earned in what some might call the easy way. I was an escort for high class business men, old-money, old fashioned, high class business men...
My muti-million dollar mansion was at the corner of Cranberry and Willow St., maybe you've hear of it, they call it the moonstruck house. Its a masterpiece in all its 4 story glory, tree lines shaded streets, surrounded by row house after row house. One of my favorite things about living here is the Promenade. I love spending my free afternoons.......
Then the memories started, the ones I always try to push away, those of my sister headed down a disastrous path of drugs, sex, excesses of ever kind, and ultimately the death of my niece Brenna.
Despite the bad memories the dilapidated family brownstone could conjure up, Id bought myself a grand brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. I paid its $4 million dollar price tag with money Id earned in what some might call the easy way. I was an escort for high class business men, old-money, old fashioned, high class business men...
My muti-million dollar mansion was at the corner of Cranberry and Willow St., maybe you've hear of it, they call it the moonstruck house. Its a masterpiece in all its 4 story glory, tree lines shaded streets, surrounded by row house after row house. One of my favorite things about living here is the Promenade. I love spending my free afternoons.......
I've become someone new many times in the past. I wouldn't say it's been more times than I can count, but it would take some effort to recall all the personality hijacking I've done. Some people I've only spent days as, some weeks, and some Ive stayed with for many years….. I'd been Shelly for a very long time, in fact I'd begun to think I would stay Shelly forever. tbc….
Becoming Me
I must have had the dream again last night, though I didn’t remember it invading my subconscious when I woke this morning, the dream is what always triggers the restlessness…
I was walking through the newly laid parking lot of the grocery store with its dark black asphalt and bright orange lines, blinding in the morning sun. I'd been coming back from the bank where I had just finished getting something notarized. In my boredom I began contemplating this life of mine and the daydreams I'd been having all morning about something different, something wild and exciting, something that would be a change from the housewife like state I've existed in for what suddenly seemed like an eternity.
When I spotted the silver Armada with the New York plates parked 2 rows down from me it was like a doorway to my soul opened up. That’s when I knew I’d had the dream last night. I felt the urge to climb in even though my husband was waiting for me at home. I felt the urge even though I had long ago become the children’s mother in practice and most definably in my own heart. I felt the urge even though I loved the father I’d had since I became Shelly. The pull was irresistible, it always was. I lifted the handle that had grown warm to the point of blistering my hand in the blow dryer hot desert sun, and I got in. In that instant I became someone else entirely…
I never have figured out just how it works, why I can just assume someone’s life and their personality as if I've had a lifelong symbiotic relationship with them. But they cease to exist I know, I checked once on my past self when I became someone new. She was missing, only her car was found in the parking lot where I had become this new person. I wonder, is it that their soul left before its time and I took over to fill the void to fulfill the undone work in their lives? Is it just some fluke of nature, some birth defect I have that lets me bypass all the normal laws of universe? Do I have some special power or ability that lets me take over the lives of others? Was I predestined to this by some higher power? Or do I simply will it to happen out of desperation? I thought that was what had happened the first time, my will simply making it happen, but now I'm not so sure. Not with the dream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Getting in the Armada it turns out, was the answer to my dreams, at least for now. I had escaped the bonds of housewifeyness and of motherhood. And although I was sorry that the children had lost their mother, I was easily just as happy that I was me; it was thrilling to be Gena. Gena had a high paying job, she was single and she was wild. Gena was beautiful and carefree and happy. Gena was me, I was Gena
It seems I was visiting my dying mother out there in the hot Sonoran desert, the last cord tethering me to the family I had never wanted anything to do with, the family that Gena had never wanted anything to do with. I was happy to be free of them all at last. The things I had endured as part of that family left me feeling so bitter that I rarely dared to let the memories creep into my conscious thoughts.
My trip back across the country gave me a lot of time to adjust to all the changes that would greet me once I made it to my apartment in New York City. While it was easy to just become someone else physically, dealing with the changes in my head took some time. I looked forward to all that this new life had to offer me, but at the same time I could not quite let go of the past. I found myself wondering if all mothers daydreamed of some other life they might have, or was it only me, the personality kleptomaniac. Did Suzy homemaker down the road entertain fantasies about being a singer in Vegas, or perhaps dream of being a high payed ad exec in a high rise building somewhere far from home. Did any of them ever think about escape to a more glamorous, less selfless life than that offered by motherhood? Was I just selfish and self serving or would they too choose a new life if they could?
I must have had the dream again last night, though I didn’t remember it invading my subconscious when I woke this morning, the dream is what always triggers the restlessness…
I was walking through the newly laid parking lot of the grocery store with its dark black asphalt and bright orange lines, blinding in the morning sun. I'd been coming back from the bank where I had just finished getting something notarized. In my boredom I began contemplating this life of mine and the daydreams I'd been having all morning about something different, something wild and exciting, something that would be a change from the housewife like state I've existed in for what suddenly seemed like an eternity.
When I spotted the silver Armada with the New York plates parked 2 rows down from me it was like a doorway to my soul opened up. That’s when I knew I’d had the dream last night. I felt the urge to climb in even though my husband was waiting for me at home. I felt the urge even though I had long ago become the children’s mother in practice and most definably in my own heart. I felt the urge even though I loved the father I’d had since I became Shelly. The pull was irresistible, it always was. I lifted the handle that had grown warm to the point of blistering my hand in the blow dryer hot desert sun, and I got in. In that instant I became someone else entirely…
I never have figured out just how it works, why I can just assume someone’s life and their personality as if I've had a lifelong symbiotic relationship with them. But they cease to exist I know, I checked once on my past self when I became someone new. She was missing, only her car was found in the parking lot where I had become this new person. I wonder, is it that their soul left before its time and I took over to fill the void to fulfill the undone work in their lives? Is it just some fluke of nature, some birth defect I have that lets me bypass all the normal laws of universe? Do I have some special power or ability that lets me take over the lives of others? Was I predestined to this by some higher power? Or do I simply will it to happen out of desperation? I thought that was what had happened the first time, my will simply making it happen, but now I'm not so sure. Not with the dream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Getting in the Armada it turns out, was the answer to my dreams, at least for now. I had escaped the bonds of housewifeyness and of motherhood. And although I was sorry that the children had lost their mother, I was easily just as happy that I was me; it was thrilling to be Gena. Gena had a high paying job, she was single and she was wild. Gena was beautiful and carefree and happy. Gena was me, I was Gena
It seems I was visiting my dying mother out there in the hot Sonoran desert, the last cord tethering me to the family I had never wanted anything to do with, the family that Gena had never wanted anything to do with. I was happy to be free of them all at last. The things I had endured as part of that family left me feeling so bitter that I rarely dared to let the memories creep into my conscious thoughts.
My trip back across the country gave me a lot of time to adjust to all the changes that would greet me once I made it to my apartment in New York City. While it was easy to just become someone else physically, dealing with the changes in my head took some time. I looked forward to all that this new life had to offer me, but at the same time I could not quite let go of the past. I found myself wondering if all mothers daydreamed of some other life they might have, or was it only me, the personality kleptomaniac. Did Suzy homemaker down the road entertain fantasies about being a singer in Vegas, or perhaps dream of being a high payed ad exec in a high rise building somewhere far from home. Did any of them ever think about escape to a more glamorous, less selfless life than that offered by motherhood? Was I just selfish and self serving or would they too choose a new life if they could?
