Any arbitrary turn along the way, I would be elsewhere. I would be different. They made the train tracks, through the steepest part of the Alps, before there was a train that could make the journey. They built them anyway. They knew, one day the train would come.  I, have never felt as though the world “owed” me a thing. “The victim,” isn’t the name I wish to be bestowed. The trauma’s, I’ve endured. I’ve survived, were the sort, that under normal circumstances. A “normal” person, would’ve met their maker. There are millions, that endure far more than I have. But, comparing,  assuming, and speculating. An individual’s personal trials, to yours. Is apples to oranges. I’m not, “normal” by society’s standards. I do, and always have. Marched to the beat of my own drummer. 

My real life “Yoda,” Explained, “People, most “normal” people, don’t understand you.” And she helped me see, that’s OK.  Shoot, I didn’t understand me, I, until recently, was a chameleon, trying to blend, fit in, be “normal.” I was a puppet, my actions were scripted, my vocal chords, like, “Fargo.” My father’s dog cut. I was, dubbed.  A puppet, my bondage. Dysfunctional, and unraveling. I have been. Punished, severely for noncompliance. In my darkest hour, I was again, reduced to groveling, begging……. Again.

 In that moment I received. The most powerful, life affirming, motivational speech. His  last contribution, to the only life I had known. His last diatribe, scolding. My puppet shows final curtain, came to and, in turn, saved my life on,

July 1, 2015.

 I’ve been told, and had  believed to my core.

 I am liability, my son disappeared  because of the situation I created, at age 13. I got as close to normal, as I was capable. I was unfit.  My prison, was being his daughter. I was, fearless, brave enough to, jump ship. I have, in the last 9 months, been reborn. 

I’m sure to catch some grief for the following,

I was blessed by the Court, the two Judge’s. Saved my life, brought me back to life, and I am profoundly grateful. My attorney, handed me the bamboo, and string. Helped me learn to fish, the hard way. From scratch. I made huge time consuming mistakes, but eventually, I figured it out. The bamboo and string, my fishing pole. When it was time, he gave me the opportunity to make the hook. Although far less, than before. More, consumption of time passed. Frustrated, giving up, wasn’t a option. November 11,2015. I secured, my hook, my fishing pole complete. I, was finally ready. To catch my fish. 

  The journey has been painful, torturous, life affirming, and I felt every single emotion. I will offer this advice, the only thing I know to be irrevocable in fact. There’s no pill, vaccine, booze, or drug. No Band-Aids for grief. I did the work, I took this opportunity to get well. For the first time in my entire life, I can authentically say, I’m not a prisoner. OCD isn’t the boss of me, anymore. I am no longer Gary’s daughter, I am only Jackson’s mother. I am not afraid of anyone, I’ve freed myself.