more self analisis: looking into the past

as i'm met today with a wide and varied list of problems and issues to resolve, non of which i have any remote experience with, i have been plagued with my typical pseudo analytical thoughts. these are the thoughts of a generation of self-analysts, the gen that blames parents, shrinks, prozac. i'm a half-bred imbecile, who's desperately fishing for someone to blame.

just as i had thought i was finished living my youth, knowing everything that i needed to know i became involved in a serious relationship at a young age. i was still in high school and like my flat chest, my creativity had not even began to burgeon much less peak.

i was about to go away to college when i shifted the pendulum against myself. having been accepted at my top school, a small private college, the harvard of florida they called it, i decided, maybe out of fear or ignorance, that patrick was the answer to all my questions. he wasn't. to him i was perfect and that was enough

at the time though all i could think was "why do i have to go away to find myself, to involve myself in this entire college process when the answer to it all was right in front of me with stars in his eyes. why, i could even bypass my entire twenties and just jump into married bliss immediately! how lucky! and, boy,with a man like him i don't even need to be engaged!"

so seeing myself through patrick's eyes was enough for a poor little girl from ecuador. he loved me. i was livable. i was worthy.

i agree, that at 18 i had no self esteem, or self awareness, but i also think that p was the first if not the only person at the time who accepted me as i was. i never fit into any mold, but i did fit right into his 25 year old arms. always taller than the ecuadorian shrimps, I had a knack for letting people know exactly how i felt making me unpopular with boys. as a teenager i was their buddy. "gosh gabs it's so fun hanging out with you. it's like you're not even a girl" i hear over and over again sprinkled on occasion with "you're so funny/mean."

and just as cluelessly as i dove into marriage, i walked the plank onto motherhood. how patrick allowed this i am not sure. the only logical explanation is that he was just as stupid as me.

my son was born under the guise of russian royalty. nikolas alexander read his birth certificate, and percocet read my prescription note. (this was the begining of my slow dance with prescription pills) we went home to my grandmother's where a house full of latin mammas awaited impatiently. i sat in bed as they poked and prodded my scars, my tissues, my nipples. upon examining my nursing bra gilded breasts my mom declared i was not built for breastfeeding. what did she know. all five of her kids were bottle fed. my husband was nowhere to be seen and i was able to sleep peacefully while my mother stayed for a month. the day she left i cried. i had been very ill the entire time and felt i hadn't bonded with the baby. that was my first mommy WTF moment. it suddenly became brutally real. no matter how old i was (21) how much college experience i had (none) how much money i made (zero) or how much i wanted (didn't) this baby.