A few thoughts on Faith

Last night while I was driving home from dropping my Dad at the airport I was sucked into a deep conversation within my own brain. A conversation with the 8 year old me and the 33 year old me. We debated how differently my life might have turned out had my parents stayed together all those years ago. If my Dad could have just had some control over the crippling PTSD brought on from memories of Vietnam.

He is a rock now. Controlled, wonderful, full of advice and love. Not so much back then. For reasons unknown to me, although he was still involved in my life after the divorce he wasn't central in it. I saw him often, then occasionally, then less and less, then not for years at a time. Bitter divorce, distance and an aging daughter are probably the culprits there.

My Mother was exhausted when it came to raising us. I am sure she did her best and to this day I adore my Mother but I have to be honest, it was half assed at best. We all ran over her like she was a rug. 4 out of 5 children didn't graduate high school. I had a baby at 16. She clung to my sister until she decided to grow wings and move out at the age of 23. Mom was lonely, tired and spineless when it came to rearing 5 children.

I wonder how differently things may have turned out for any one of us had they remained together. I know I would have never been allowed to run around the town like a hoodlum, nor have sex, nor give up on high school. My Dad would have never heard of it. I have grown up and made it okay. I have some college education and a shit pile of life education. I made it out okay. I was not doomed to be a welfare Mom like so many teenage mothers are.

I still have to ponder though, how would it have been different? The 8 year old me has some ideas of her own. The 33 year old me isn't so sure.