Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The Sociopath and the Beauty Queen

The night of the honeymoon the newlyweds stayed in a room on the ocean waiting for their trip around the world to begin the next morning when they would board the plane with passports in hand. That first night Charles just fell asleep on the bed and when Nancy Jo exited the powder room dressed beautifully and ready for a newlywed night of splendor, Charles lay their unconscious to the world. The next morning he told Nancy Jo, “I knew what I had to do to get you and now I have you”. Simple as that, what inspiring, loving words to build your life on. Nancy Jo was speechless for the next upcoming years.

The honeymoon produced a pregnancy and then the newlywed fun really began. Nancy Jo’s doctor was furious because she became pregnant with a surgically implanted IUD in and it threw off the numbers in the doctor’s study. What a nice “congratulations” from the doctor for Nancy Jo. While she was pregnant, Charles began to resume his philandering ways with other women, and that never stopped. In 1968, I was born, the product of a beauty queen and a sociopath. I will get to the diagnosis a little later.

I grew up under the guise that we had money, when the truth was that my father’s parents had money and he wanted to live the life of leisure and live off of them. The evidence of this manifested itself when my father would leave town for days and days, leaving with the keys of the vehicle in our driveway in his pocket while he drove off in his car. He left without leaving my mother any money, not paying the bills, and she would not have any mode of transportation. Beautiful, this is what every woman dreams of when they marry and have children. Since his parents always provided a financial safety net beneath him he never really had the drive or the need to truly pursue an income. He did have business after business; he would never actually “work” for someone else as in “become employed”.

I grew up with confusion about money and no clue about the value of a dollar. I knew that my grandparents had accounts at the finest stores around town and so I would help myself to shopping and sign off on the ticket with the family name. My father never had an interest in paying the bills and the lights would get turned off, the cars would get repossessed and that further confused me as we lived in a nice home and had nice vehicles when they were in my parents’ possession. I thought we had money, but apparently it was not in my parent’s bank account, but the bank accounts of my grandparents. I only understand this in retrospect as an adult, as a child, things just seemed incongruent and strange. My parents never seemed as though they were together and little did I know about how they became married, the tragedy of their honeymoon and the cheating ways of my father. Just like Nan, Nancy Jo also carried a wounded heart. When your heart is wounded you are distracted from the things in life that could bring you joy or that might need your attention, like children. I recall my mother being a loving mother, but I also recall that she seemed absent, literally and figuratively.

My father was horribly abusive physically, verbally, mentally, and sexually. He was the devil personified. I wanted desperately to kill him. I used to dream of ways to do it but none seemed to carry enough pain and torture to do the deed justice to repay him for the life I was trapped to live.