For a good part of my life I was raised by my mom in a small apartment on 118th st and 1st ave. Harlem NY. Things were as good as they could be at the time, the apartment was small, the pipes constantly froze during the winter and compound that with splinters from the wood floors and no heat. For years it was me and mom, things were great, eventually she met my brothers father and was pregnant,life was changing in a good way. Time went by my brothers father was killed and mom changed, I think at that point is where the change happened. My brother was born (insert smiley face), Sexual abuse was exposed (insert sad face), and the light dimmed a bit until she met my younger sisters father.
Meeting my sisters father was the best thing that happened to my mom, it was as if the light went back on in her mind and she really smiled again. He was the super of the building we then lived in, things in the house were being fixed eventually we were able to move into the projects (huge back then). Life was good with all the possibilities of what was to come, they got married we moved and that is where the nightmare began. Now this part is a bit difficult, not for me, but for my sister, regardless of all the evil he put into the world he was and will always be her father and that's something he did very well.
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."I had a dream, which was not all a dream/The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars/Did wander darkling in the eternal space,/Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth/ Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;/Morn came, and went and came, and brought no day,/And men forgot their passions in the dread..." Lord Byron
The next few years seemed more like a lifetime movie than my life. It started with arguing and progressed to yelling, things around the house began to either disappear into the garbage or were no longer put together. My mother changed, smiles were gone, her room door remained closed, the talking stopped the laughter stopped. I remember the night I smelled it for the first time, it was late I would lay there and listen to the sound of him slapping her. This time it was different I kept hearing a lighter that faint flicker as you put your thumb on the metal piece waiting for the spark. (Crack smells awful) Eventually heard someone pull then cough I knew it was him but who knows that could have been my mom and the first pull or her 20th of her life.
"font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;">I eventually got used to the smell, the glassy eyes, the way the house began to fall apart, and the way that the cupboards were bare, but I never got used to hearing my mom cry. During that time I don't remember her laughing again, she must have at some point but the sounds of her head being punched against the wall has filled that memory. Although I was a child the role I played was no more, I became a parent my brother and my sister needed protection. Eventually he would leave, I would have killed him, but he left but my mom never came back. She fell deep into the addiction, forgetting to buy food, owing dealers her entire check, having strange people come in and out of the house.
I grew up quick, she was no longer the person i knew and would resent her for that for years after but I was not alone. My aunt Jean and my Grandma really helped us and really helped me so when my aunt died a part of me did as well. That was so tough and still til this day i hurt just thinking about that, thinking about those times when it was just her and I talking. Something really happened to my mom at that point, she really became a drug user, she used more than we ate. Money for food, clothes, personal items they all went to drugs. Eventually my grandmother would pass and she lost herself and she began to lose us.
Other events occurred during those years and I was able to leave and go to college (first person in the family insert smiley face). Although, I achieved what most experts say is not possible I did it, I graduated, it was my day and I wanted my family to be there. No one came from my immediate family and it hurt, but I waited, I waited for her, I waited for my mom and she didn't come. At times I think about that day and the fact that she was not there to see what I accomplished still makes me emotional.
I graduated from a 4 year program, I surrounded myself with amazing people, I had my own apartment of which I paid bills, I grew up and she didn't share that with me. Later while speaking with her she said that she wanted to come but she didn't because she thought I would be ashamed of her. As I sit here and write those words it hurts just to remember that. My anger couldn't say what I later can say as an adult and that's simply "I would have been proud just to take a picture with you"
This brings me to today February 5th, 2011 my mom has been clean for a few years now and our relationship has changed. Today I met with a personal trainer and I was very confidant, walked in overweight but ego pretty high. I hit the treadmill for a little over a mile, feeling good. I got through all of the required assessments but there was just one more thing left, the BMI machine. I knew it was going to be high I actually prepared myself for that but what I didnt prepare for was the reality of it all. Today I learned that I have some much fat on me that the machine could not register it.
WOW! I was crushed, you couldn't tell, but I was, I tried to go through this process the same way I learned how to live life. Just put the hurt and disappointment out of your mind and keep moving on, just keep going forward. I felt like a failure I failed the most important person in all of this and that was myself. As a child I took care of my brother, sister and at times my mom. I had 2 suite cases and no clue what to do and moved away and went to college. Later I would become full guardian to my little brother and carry the guilt of not being able to take my sister. All of this I did with a limited budget or know how, I learned as I went but out of all of that I failed myself. Today I had a low moment but I processed it, allowed myself to feel the emotion and I came to term with the fact that I became an addict.
For so long I fought hard against being like my mother. I would always say I'll never be like her, I never even tried certain drugs in college because I was scared of becoming addicted to them. But my addiction got me to the place where I am now. When I was 19 I promised myself that I would never be hungry again, when I was 22 I promised my brother that her would never have to "want" again and at 23 I promised my sister that things would get better.
You know I was never hungry again, I made sure to stock my cabinets and my fridge and nope things really didnt get thrown away. Eventually I convinced myself that cleaning a plate piled with food is the only way to eat. I worked and numbed the stress of being a parent, still being a kid, and feeling helpless with my sister away. Holding onto that guilt and hurt and anger compounded with my addiction to food is what I am today. Being like my mom has always been one of the scariest things for me, addiction has always been a word that I dared not say. That is why its important for me to say because I have my own form of addiction. I am like my mom we dont confront hurt we just move on and prepare for the next day. I learned that, hell I ate that for years but I'm ok. I am o.k.
My mom is one of the strongest people I know, but for years I thought she was so weak because she chose something over us. She has experienced so much loss in her life, my father the first half of my life, my brothers father, being physically and mentally abused, her sister, mother, brother and then us (im not including some of her close friends). I feel so blessed that all she came out with was an addiction to crack, hell it could be that plus coke, or heroin and alcohol. She had to go away to get clean, I had to move away to get clean, she had to choose to do that for herself, I have to choose to do this for myself.
I didnt understand then what it was to go through tragedy after tragedy and consume yourself in something, until this time in my life. I was very angry for so long even when she was away in the addiction program, all I wanted to do was yell and say why did you choose that? why did you not protect us? in all reality even if I could ask she wouldn't know the answer, as I do not know now. I don't know what happened in my life that changed everything and would eventually lead me to this point. But what I do know is what has changed in order for me to fight my own battle with addiction and overcome it.
On January 4th, 1980 I was the first child born to Angela Clark at Mount Sinai Hospital in NYC. I am not ashamed of where I come from and I am proud of my mother. I am not ashamed of what I have done to my body and I'm proud of the transformation that will come. fAat yoGa was created out of that same fear that my mom once had of being strong and it comes from the same fear I have of failure. Saying and understanding that you are an addict who has some form of addiction is one of the strongest things you can do. If you can conquer that first step everything else is easy. Gaining a large amount of weight doesn't happen overnight and it does not mean lack of effort there is always a deeper issue. I confronted that today and as I share this with you my hurt is gone, my anger is gone, my fear is gone, I just let that all go, its time to move on I have to do this for myself.
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