Adapting To Extremes

My bravery and tenacity gifted me with two lovely children, where the dancer had none by marrying her own musician.

They had such a large, beautifully-exotic wedding with American-Middle Eastern-Eastern Indian flares in fabric and decor and the most amazing, flavor-adventure cuisine.

She came over briefly and doted upon my eldest who at the time was only about a year old with curls at nape of neck.

My partner and I were split up at the time, as I had just moved back to San Luis Obispo from Santa Barbara. My eldest and I were living briefly in a trailer with a woman I found out later was frauding AFDC.

My firstborn and I soon moved out from that dicey situation to an apartment by the heavily-rumbling 101 North. I could not sleep at this location, and we eventually reunited with my ex-partner.

I wanted our children to know their father closely, unlike mine who had been driven from our home due to his antics in my own early childhood.

My mother did not believe in second chances unless her man came back upscale and willing.

Years later, the dancer divorced her husband and had obtained her Master’s in Psychology.

When the kids and I went through homelessness the first time, I qualified for the last of a community grant that got us into a house – and then it was up to me to keep it.

I struggled with what my career path could be that would allow me to be available to my two then teens, yet bring in enough money for our survival without my yet-acquired Bachelor’s.

I returned to housecleaning, having somehow forgotten that I had been a healer before my partner’s life situation had taken over everything.

During this transitional period from being without a home to holding one again, I learned the dancer-turned-counselor was one of the designated therapists that I could see at the outreach center.

I was mortified to have her see how my family’s world had been destroyed by The Death Star. We had been equals once – or rather, she had relied upon my music to carry her renowned beauty.

I could not hide the devastation I felt from her at how things had turned against me.

I hated feeling victimized by another’s choices after having cared for and trusted in the good of his humanity.

I remembered these moments just now while laying in bed with a heating pad trying to counter a gnarly shoulder spasm.

My life has been colorful at times, filled with wonderful moments of joy and gaiety – especially through music and performance get-togethers.

But there was always a price paid being with someone who could not/would not trust while loving me.

I thought I was supposed to stay with him, to teach him by example that life could be wonderful to live as we give to each other.

Eventually he could do this – if he started out fresh with a new partner. I guess the associations had to be swept clean for him to embrace this.

“Pay It Forward” seems to be life’s main theme shown to me, so I will just keep dodging and weaving.

It has become a way of survival to stay on the edge of things, make cameos – and then, just disappear again into the surrounding scenery.