A short Note.

I wanted to take a break from my normal writing to scribble down a note before I forget about it.

I thought of something while I was writing about my childhood yesterday. People have always told me that I have had issues because I was taken from my grandparents. I always thought I was able to deal with the situation. But I now think that maybe I haven't.

While writing about my experiences in Arkansas I remember my times there with love and understanding. I was accepted, I didn't feel I had to please anyone for them to love me. The love was unconditional. Then I started writing about my experiences after coming to California to live with my mom and her new husband. It was different, it seemed what I started writing about was my attempt to be accepted, to be loved. I was trying to make my new parents happy, I say new parents because I didn't really know either of them. My mom was usually torn between my needs and trying to keep her new husband happy, I feel I got lost in the mix sometimes. I remember sitting in my bedroom listening to them argue about me, about my flaws. 

I never felt unloved when I was with my grandparents, ever. I did with my parents, I felt their love was conditional.

I don't think my dad ever told me he was proud of me until I was 24. When he was diagnosed with cancer and I quit my job at Rockwell to return home to help the family and run his business.