What I Want For Christmas or Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

My old life back? Pre-stroke?

Since I’m in a fantasy world today, I’ll keep to that theme. Bing Crosby is playing. It’s making me wistful and weepy.

I want Dad back and Gunn to have been out of our lives when I was 8. We could have left her with her family when we were in Norway in 1978 when Grandpa was still alive and Gunn hadn’t successfully ended Dad’s maritime career.  And I was happy and didn’t doubt anything. And the beatings hadn’t begun. And she wasn’t twisting my mind with sexuality and accusations and clippings from the newspaper to “warn” me of the evilness of men and how she went on with the lies of how she was my birth mother. No exact facts, just a caesarian scar. Not me, her daughter born 2 years before me and buried in Norway. Her cousin’s son didn’t know it was a huge family secret! Yeah, that tombstone was a shock. Gunn was lies. Dad was truth – to a point. He protected her and paid for it. I would do anything to just have a day with him again. 17 years feels like 17 minutes.

Going to college and staying there until I had a degree. Looking into it myself instead of thinking Dad would know. Even student loans. They made a choice to not acclimate – ever. I was American. They were Norwegian, though Dad did get his Citizenship because he wanted to vote since he paid taxes. And voting with him and understanding politics and government was interesting for both of us. He had someone to talk to because such things BORED Ms. Pris. Such nonsense interrupted Jeopardy, or worse General Hospital. Realizing education was more important than a Scandinavian Husband, that an education would release me from her vice-like grasp, was the prize.

Marrying Antoine was a huge mistake. Period. Chris was right.  I was a neophyte, impressionable, naive. Stupid. I paid for it; emotionally, financially, physically. 5 years of my life gone, 20 to 26. Poof! Then there was Kevin. Chris made him an offer – me on a platter – and I ended up marrying him because he was the OPPOSITE of Antoine.  Opposite that he had no confidence in himself. The Martyr by self-proclamation. A loser with no marketable skills. That I married. Who was the loser?

I wanted children. I had always hoped for three. Boys or girls, as long as I had one of each. Always a reason to wait….wait until we have a house….wait until we have saved up money…..he could be a stay-home Dad, no daycare needed! I’d be working 14 hours a day because that was my job and his job had no actual “importance” in that get a temp with basic accounting skills. C

I had skills. Recruiters called me too often. I hung in too long in several positions and gave my loyalty to some real scum bags. Missed some opportunities and didn’t jump when I should have. 6 figures was nice while it lasted. From Corporate Finance to Pre-Audit to Forensic Auditing to Real Estate to Mortage Lending, then the Big Short, back to Corporate Finance and Audit Lead and Project Finance Administration to Stroke. Helluva circle. I wish I had discovered Forensic Auditing earlier. I could have had a career with the FBI and been on the East Coast. A happy life, without the Emotional Vampire.

I took tests in High School. SAT of course, and the Armed Forces Aptitude Test. The Navy really wanted me and for Annapolis. My test results for Analytics and Logic was in the top 5% nationwide. They may have wanted me for the Trident Sub Project. I would have been there during Tailhook, but Gunn torpedoed it all by telling the recruiter I wasn’t mentally stable. She was a “nurse” and it had been so heartbreaking. Dad wasn’t there when the recruiters were “interviewing”. She made sure of that. He was furious when he found out. I could have followed in his footsteps.

She always had it her exact way, regardless of anyone else’s feelings. Narcissist much?

That IQ test I took during Junior High. Good thing she was smart, but she shouldn’t think she was smarter than the adults. And wouldn’t that make it more difficult for her to find a husband if she had unrealistic expectations? Those meetings with Mensa? Whatever that was. A bunch of old men who just wanted her for sex or to take advantage of her. She doesn’t know. She’s an innocent and we will keep her that way. A pure virgin when she finds the right (acceptable) man. That IQ business means nothing.

All paperwork disappeared. Like everything else Gunn didn’t like or find agreeable.

My IQ is near genius level. They never brought it up to any instructor’s that I know of. Dad was friendly with my Principal and helped “school” my HS Geometry teacher and narced me out to Dad more than I liked, but I caused my own issues with keeping off the Honor Roll by planned percentages.

I enjoyed that too much. I was hanging on out with the Stoner campus, playing strip poker and not losing an article of clothing during Drama while “running lines”, hell skipping class to run to Naugles for breakfast (teacher never knew), being teachers’ pet, tutoring Math to Junior High students while a Senior, dealing with Gunn’s accusations of my supposed sexual promiscuity, having her “smell” me when I’d returned from being out with friends (3 boys and 2 girls – including my neighbor) to see if I smelled like sex. One thing is for sure, she couldn’t smell alcohol worth a damn. Chris and  I would drink MGD and she didn’t smell that. Was I smoking the marijuana?! Chris smokes, so therefore I must smoke, including marijuana. Yeah, I smoked. I didn’t smoke pot until I was 46 and discovered “candies”. Oh, it made dealing with Gunn so mellow. Hehe. Never got the munchies, but horny was a different matter and I was hanging with Jason who liked boys too. My Gays.

One thing that still burns like an endless flame – my beloved Husband Kevin who had an issue peeing and finally went to the doctor and, as I told him to, took the doctor into the bathroom to show how slowly he pee’d. Months, several procedures and finally surgery, he can ejaculate sperm! That path had been blocked for his entire Adult Life due to an accident with a girl’s bicycle as a child, that he never took the time to completely explain – or obviously show – to a urologist. This was “fixed” when he was 42. I was a year older. We could try to have a child.

I was too old. What about adoption? (And here it comes)

You never can tell what you’re going to get. The mother could have been a crack addict. The kid could have developmental issues. It’s not a good idea. It’s too much of a burden,

Good thing Gunn and Aksel didn’t think I was going to have problems since I was adopted – rejected by my birth parents – and I would be a burden. He used burden. In a few brief sentences, he made my justification for living as a child an inconsequential anomaly that should be avoided.  And I didn’t want to try anymore with the looser without marketable skills. Nam myoho renge kyo MF.  20 years with you was an absolute waste. Your family was cool. Wish I was still married to them. I am sorry Sharon. I tried, but it wasn’t mine to fix or simply acknowledge. I constantly acknowledged it. I should have stopped after a year or two and moved on and found happiness with someone more mature and secure in who he was.  I kept hoping. I was his wife, not his therapist. Or his mother.

Well, this was a stream of consciousness, i.e. word vomit.  Sorry. I obviously have anger management issues I  have to still deal with. So much abject disappointment in my life. It isn’t unique. I do realize that. But it is special because of how and how much and by who it was done. And now I have Will who tells me to stop letting those people rent space in my brain.

Too old and an adopted baby is a burden. My last big wish was incinerated and he was clueless.

I should have gotten pregnant without telling Kevin, that was what I should have done Chris? And since Kevin was shooting blanks, should I have gotten a different “donor”? Cheat to obtain the prize and lie to the child about his father. That’s fucked up dude, even for you. Yet, I’m the bad guy. No. I never was. You should have never said what you did. Never. It still burns my soul.

Author: Vykinghart

A divergent catalyst trying to make the world a better place while screaming from a tiny soapbox.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.