I find that I am a much stronger
person now than I have ever been and ever thought I could be. When I look
back at my life, it would be remis of me to not tell my readers some of my back
story. I had been married to a man whom I believed to be the love of my
life. He got cancer and died. That is shown in the “About me” in
this blog. Since then, I have also gone on to find the man I consider to
be my eternal love-David. My first
several blogs focused on how I felt after Patrick’s death but let’s go back a
bit.
I was the only living child of middle-aged
parents. Sixty-three years ago, late pregnancies were not as
common. Two days after my birth, my mother turned 40. My father was
42 at my birth. It should be noted that I was also the 7th attempt to
have a child. Prior to my entrance into the world, adoption and foster
parenting were also tried to no avail. And after my birth, there was a
final attempt which ended in still birth. For some reason I think it was
a girl, but I'm not sure. My mother went to the hospital and came back
alone. We never talked about it again. Have you ever had the
feeling that something was wrong, but you just couldn't put your finger on
it? That's how I felt most the years I was living with them. I was extremely
sheltered, not allowed to stay home alone until I was in the 10th
grade. Until that time, I along with our poodle were dragged along every
time they went out. I often asked why I couldn’t just stay at home with
the dog and was told I was not trustworthy enough to stay alone. Oddly, they felt good enough to leave me and
the dog in the car even in unsavory areas of town. I guess the dog was
supposed to be my protection. There were many times I remember hunkering
down on the floor of the backseat covered up with a coat or blanket to
hide. I was terrified. My parents would fuss when they got back and
call me silly. Today, the police probably would have been called for both
me and the dog. But at that time, no one
gave it a second thought. To me, it was scary.
But it also made me feel like it was just another way I disappointed
them- they didn’t trust me enough to
stay home. As I got older, I was not
allowed to participate in team sports, go to camps, get a summer job, or
babysit. Anything that would give me
independence was generally not allowed.
This fostered a feeling of smallness
and insignificance in me. Try as I
might, I just never felt I was enough.
Now, don’t get me wrong, my parents were good people. They worked hard. My mother volunteered at church and at my
schools. I really didn’t want for
anything. Both loved me. Still, I walked a very thin line knowing that
anytime, I could anger my mother and must endure verbal tirades and/or
spankings. It wasn’t until much later in
my life that I realized I had my own version of don’t ask/don’t tell. When I was a senior, I was elected Science
Club President. This honor also put me
on Student Council. I was so excited. I went running in to tell my mom, thinking
she would be so proud of me. I had done
something important. Upon hearing my
news, she simply asked, did you get your homecoming pictures. I want to see those. No congratulations, no I’m proud of you, we never
spoke of it. There was the wall, and I
wasn’t allowed past it.
When I went to college, I lived
at home for the most part. To do this, I
was told I would go to Texas A & M.
There was no need for me to apply anywhere else. If I didn’t get in there, I guess I was
expected to get a job. My dad retired
the fall of my sophomore year and I was moved back into their home. I did get an apartment but that was only for
my last semester of my senior year. But,
other than that, I lived at home. Under
their watchful eyes. I wanted out so bad
I would have done anything. Enter my
knight in shining armor-Patrick.
Our relationship began
oddly. He managed to secretly get me
moved to the front of the history class, next to him. For me it was good because I wanted to hear
everything. Each afternoon, he would
follow me to my car. He didn’t say a
word. Just followed. It took several weeks, but eventually he
gathered the strength to talk to
me. And finally, asked me
out. We dated for 3 years and eventually
in the fall of 1979, he asked me to
marry him. I said yes. There were a couple of reasons I did
this. First, I did love him and couldn’t
imagine my life without him. There were
times that he would go out with other girls. And I did as well but this was done only when
we were “seeing other people”. This rule only applied to me. When we were exclusive, he would see other at
any time and expected me to stay at home.
But, despite all his flaws-I loved him.
Second, I was raised believing that sex was for the bonds of marriage
only. I had lost my virginity to this
man and in my mind, I was soiled goods and needed to marry him to make things
right-save my soul. And, finally, I
wanted out. I wanted freedom. I wanted the kind of relationship my friends
had with their parents normal. Needing
to spread my wings grew with each passing day.
And each morning I got out of bed, had my wings clipped so I could only
fly in circles at home.
Our engagement proved
challenging. Not only did I have to deal
with financial schisms, but religious as well.
Patrick was Roman Catholic, and I was an Episcopalian. When we broke the news to Patrick’s family,
both of his aunts asked me when I was converting. I had never really thought about it or how
important my religion was to me, but I was a cradle Episcopalian. My parents had been active in our
church. It was what I knew. However, I was also the product of the
Catholic School System having to go to Mass every Friday. The services were very similar so I figured
well what was the harm, so I told them I would.
Now for a marriage to be recognized in the Catholic church, you had to
be married there. In 1980, marriages
outside the Church were not considered legal for the Church. So, I agree to be married in the Catholic
Church. I figured this would not be a
big deal. Well, I was wrong- my mother
went ballistic. It was awful. I finally got her settled down. But I was walking a very thin line. Patrick’s mother wanted a full mass at the
ceremony. And I knew that my mother
would NOT be on board with this. I set
my foot down. Patrick sided with his
mother in a conversation, he told me that if I did not give, then maybe we
needed to call of the engagement. I was
crushed. But I just couldn’t give on
this point. To make a long story short, eventually
I came up with a compromise. I offered a
full mass at the Rehearsal and the Wedding liturgy only for the Big Day. Between Patrick and I both, we managed to
convince both sets of parents, that this
was a good idea.
By now you are thinking, all
weddings have their issues, however, this one event had so many red flags that
I simply refused to see. These flags would
rare their ugly head time after time.
The old saying, “A son is your son until he takes a wife” simply didn’t
exist for the Conner family. Patrick was
so enmeshed in his home especially with his grandmother. I simply had no chanced. We lived within a few blocks of his
parents. Ate meals with them most
nights. And, when I became pregnant with
our first child, Patrick was afraid to tell his parents. So, I had to go over there alone and tell
them. His mother was slightly receptive
of the idea. His father not so
much. But, as I told him, I told him I
knew he was not happy about it, but he needed to get over it and not say anything
negative to Patrick. And, as I
emphasized there was nothing, we could do about it as the Catholic Church did
not believe in abortion. So, like it or
not, he just needed to be supportive.
Eventually, they were somewhat on board.
I had that line I was not going to cross. And I knew if our marriage stood a chance, I
had to keep working on compromise. This
was a lot easier said than done. Over
the course of our marriage, I had to constantly battle for Patrick’s
attention. He was Bob and Marie’s son
first and our growing little family took a back seat. His life was his parents and the bus company
they were running. If I disagreed with
these people I was on my own. Patrick
was always going to side with his parents.
My response was to form a very strong bond with my children. In doing this, I became immensely aware of
the fact that should I decide to bolt, they would try to take my children. No, this was never directly said to me, but
when you are introduced to their friends as the judge, or the divorce attorney,
you begin to read between the lines. By
now I was aware, I could live without Patrick, but I could never live without
Ashley and JR. They were and will always
be my world. I was willing to walk this
thin until one day when my precious little girl asked Patrick’s mother if she
could have an Easter Party. She was so
excited when she told us on the way home.
At that time, Bob and Marie were living in a small office building they
had moved to the bus parking lot. My
concern was two-fold. One, we had not
been asked if this was okay. As a
grandmother of 4 precious and amazing children, there isn’t a lot I won’t do
for them. However, I always defer to Mom
and Dad for permission to do things. And,
secondly and most important, they wanted to have a group of kindergarten
children to their “home” in bus parking lot on the busiest day of the week. This was simply a matter of children’s
safety. Patrick agreed with me. So, the following day, at lunch Patrick began
to explain to his parents that this was not going to happen, and his mother
exploded. Not at him, but at me. I was told that I never did anything they
wanted. She was so angry, her voice got
louder and louder. I sat calmly waiting for Patrick to take up for
me. We had agreed that this was not a
good idea. But he did nothing. He just sat there. His mother finally yelled that I was a “f..ing”
terrible mother. That was it. I quietly stood up. Gathered my purse and simply walked out of
the restaurant. Thinking that Patrick would
follow me out, I began to walk the 6 long blocks back to the office. Patrick never joined me; I was on my
own. This gave me a lot of time to
think. I had been working at the company
with the family so I could also take care of the children. I had been the whipping boy and scapegoat of
many things during that time. I worked on bankruptcy reports with a
broken arm upon a return from a vacation.
Typing with a broken arm is next to impossible. I kept being told to hurry up. I had key rings full of keys thrown at me
because I had taken aa deposit to the bank without asking if my mother-in-law
needed anything. So, during that walk, I
made peace with the fact I was not happy, and I didn’t deserve to be treated
like this. So, once I got to the office,
I got in my car and as I closed the door, Patrick and his parents drove
up. Getting out of the car, he came over
to me and asked where I was going. “Home”. He couldn’t understand why. I was hurt, disappointed, and moreover
angry. Angry at him, angry at Bob and
Marie, but most of all, angry at myself.
I let myself get put in this situation.
That day, I decided that I would go back to teaching. I completed my special education
certification at night and during the summer.
I don’t think Patrick ever thought I was going to go through with the
plan. And, when I did, he was
furious. I was “abandoning’ him. No, I wasn’t abandoning him. To abandon someone, you must be part of
something, which I was not. Plus, we had
two children with no insurance, and I was not being paid. This would be a win-win for the family. Education offered a small salary and pseudo good
health insurance. I pushed forward with
my plan.
I’m going to let this chapter of
my life sink in for my readers. Through
all of this, I began to realize, I was strong, I was smart, I was not just a
pretty face. I was worthy of love, honor,
and respect. Something which I was often
denied. Today as I look back at my life,
I am a much stronger person than I ever had imagined. Living life as I feel God wants me to live,
strengthens me and gives me a new and renewed purpose. Indeed, I have become a sum of my parts. I am still the same person my parents raised. Those limits which were put on me, shaped how
I reacted not just to my children but all children. As a mother I was able to give my children
growing room to stretch their wings and explore the world without
hovering. As an educator, I explained
that the most valuable gift I could give them was an education. Explaining that education for me was my
escape pod from things I didn’t like. I
went on to pursue not one but two master’s degrees and become a leader on every
campus I worked. After Patrick’s death,
I did try to run his business. But truth
be told, it was never my dream and there was just way too much bad blood there
for me to give it the 100% it needed. I
loved working with kids. It was in my
blood. When children make mistakes, that’s
normal. But, when adults make ridiculous
mistakes, I have very little patience. So,
I planned to sell the company. I moved
to Austin, sold most of my worldly possessions and returned to education. It’s
been a hard road, full of loss, but I have no regrets. Through this journey I can see how everything
has shaped me into who and what I am. I
am not just a strong and independent woman.
I am a survivor.
