I stayed to myself, and within myself, for the next two years. Devastation had come to visit me, and I couldn’t get rid of it. So, I started experimenting with drinking, and we were not compatible, but that didn’t make me stop. I got myself in a lot of trouble, with a lot of experiences that cloud my mind today. I was in car accidents, due to drinking, but in the seventies, the laws weren’t as strict, and I never got a DWI, although many times, I should have. I tried other drugs, none too debilitating, but I was trying to fill that void in my soul, and had no idea at the time that I was going about it in the worst ways possible. For about five years, I lost any identity I had managed to gather for myself. I worked at a post office, did my six a.m. until two thirty shift, got my paycheck, paid for my rent, food and car insurance, and drank or drugged the rest away.
I had lost the ability to care. I felt I had been burned badly by the two men in my life, and I really had no motivation to get back on track. This all occurred from twenty one until twenty six. I guess that’s when I threw soul to the wind, and decided to marry someone I didn’t really like, but thought my influence could help mold him to be what I wanted, and we could at least raise a family and have a home together. Being a wife would fill the void. Children would fill the void. A nice home would fill the void. Being a mommy would fill the void. No, no, no, and no. Oh, I loved having my kids and raising them, and loving them, and playing with them, and showering them with my mom’s innate affection, but when they went to bed at night, and their father was in another state at work for two weeks at a time, and home two weeks, I was alone with myself, and myself was merely a shell. The inner child was still not fulfilled, and at the time, I knew nothing about an inner child, mind you. These acknowledgments come only after much therapy and reading and writing and growing and learning and changing and going for reflexology.
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