Nostalgia...Things I Lost Along the Way

I hate when I get like this. There are millions of words racing through my mind. I never know where to begin but I started this blog just so I could get them out. So, please forgive me if this post seems a little jumbled and senseless. These are my thoughts at the moment.

We all have our own family history that shapes us into the people we are. We are affected in one way or another by the things that have happened to us. We all develop various defense mechanisms and coping skills. I avoid with humor or I simply change the subject. These are only short term solutions so these things that I avoid only fester (and manifest in some other way I'm sure). I always find myself searching for meaning. I rarely ever take things at face value. I just always think there's more to the story. I'm not sure why I am this way but...I am. There has got to be a reason that despite the fact that I have all ten fingers and toes, 20/20 vision, hearing (though selective at times), and a few talents, I am not happy.

I talked to my father today. I hadn't talked to him since uh, I don't remember. I'm not sure how to describe our relationship (and I use that term loosely). I don't remember much about my childhood or anything else these days for that matter. That's also a defense mechanism/coping skill (or whatever you want to call it) that I've developed. I tend to forget the unfortunate or force it into "the sea of forgetfulness" as my mother would say. So, I'm not sure if the fact that I don't remember much of what happened to me before middle school means those times were so "unfortunate" that I've blocked them out of my memory or I simply have a bad memory. But when I see little girls with their fathers, I find myself feeling nostalgic. I do remember watching boxing with my dad. He would straddle the piano stool in front of the big screen and eat bologna sandwiches while I sat on the floor at his feet asking questions. I still don't understand the sport but every now and then, I catch myself watching it (boxing) or rather staring at the tv screen in a daze while I reminisce.

I also remember one of the times my (half) brothers came from Connecticut to visit. I don't remember how old I was but I was a young girl. My brothers may have been in high school so I was probably in elementary school (first grade, maybe even kindergarten). Anyway. They rode the bus so my mother and I went to pick them up from the Greyhound station but we couldn't find them once we arrived. I looked out of the bus station window to the Burger King across the street and there they were sitting outside eating burgers. I always seem to remember the most seemingly insignificant things. I drive past that Burger King on my way to work and I think about that moment everyday.

I remember dreaming. I went through the entire set of encyclopedias and "dog-earred" every article about whatever musical instrument was on that page. I read them all for enjoyment. I taught myself to play the recorder and harmonica just because--period. No reason. Just because. I don't know what happened and I'm only 23 but sometimes I feel like my life is spent. My dreams have been dreamt. But sometimes...

...if I try hard enough, I can remember...

...happiness.