Full Circle: Secrets

...so many told, so many to carry

While Mom was still recovering from the stroke, Dawn, Jimmy Mac, and I entered family therapy at the behest of a social worker. We were advised to get support for all the changes coming with a newly disabled family member on our hands.

The psychologist’s office is where some eye-opening facts about my family were revealed at the age of 22.

• Mom’s prior marriage had been to an abusive alcoholic. His name was Sydney. Sydney did not have any contact with Dawn, and although he wasn’t in her life, he would not allow Jimmy Mac to adopt her.

• Mom had a mental health crisis when I was around six months old that required prolonged institutionalization. During this time, she underwent ECT, (electroconvulsive therapy).

• Dawn, at just 10 years old, had to help Jimmy Mack take care of me while Mom was away and she had carried resentment from those years. (I now understand why)

• Dawn told Jimmy Mack and me that she believed I was the favorite.

• Jimmy Mack stated he “never liked the way your mother didn’t treat you girls the same.”

And there it was.

While I was feeling awkward being asked to twirl around and show off my new clothes and hairstyles, Jimmy Mac was feeling things too. None of this was my fault, but I constantly went back and forth thinking that it was. Maybe I could have stopped it. But we didn’t talk about hard things. From a very young age, guilt was walking hand in hand with me. Every day.

Jimmy Mac said he’d spoken to Mom about her favoritism many times.

So, is this why I was frequently awakened at 5am while they argued over breakfast? Were they fighting because of me?

Is this why he’d come home in a bad mood everyday and dinner would be ruined by another argument? One time it was so bad I remember sliding out of my chair and hiding under the table while they went at it. I don’t remember what happened after that. But I do remember well what the underside of that dinner table looked like.

My head was spinning.

During this therapy session I was taken back to the time Mom took me out for dinner for my 18th birthday. And she revealed some things Jimmy Mack never wanted me to know.

First reveal: Mom says that had I been a boy, Jimmy Mac would have named me Russell. He wanted a boy because I would have carried on the family name. Otherwise, he was the “last of the McPhails.”

To this day, I don’t know why she felt that was something necessary or useful for me to know.

Did I somehow pick up on this and that’s why I was a tomboy? Maybe I followed him around like a puppy because I thought he’d like me better if I took interest in the things he liked? Guy things. Fishing. Golfing. Tennis. Baseball. Mowing lawns. Camping. Painting houses. Newspaper routes.

Second reveal: When I was born, my parents were mistakenly called and told to go pick up their new baby at the hospital. In truth, they were supposed to stay home and wait for me to be delivered to them by their attorney.

Arriving at the nurse’s station, they announced, “We’re here to get our newborn baby.” One nurse shouted out to another “Go get the Taylor baby.” The nurse could have said Baylor or Sailor, but my parents were pretty sure they heard Taylor.

After that, my Mom swore me to secrecy and I never spoke about those things again.

* * * * * *

When I left the psychologist’s office, I was able to ponder all these unknowns; these secrets that no child should ever have to keep. I was beginning to see the recurring theme. I was beginning to learn that what I thought was normal, was actually quite dysfunctional.

I thought it strange that Jimmy Mac usually didn’t celebrate my July 2nd Adoption Days with joy like my Mom did. Every year she went all out by making my favorite meal with German Chocolate cake, and there was always a gift. It was like having two birthdays every year, but always felt my Adoption day was the most special. Jimmy Mac usually stayed quiet about everything anyway, so I just figured it was normal for him not to celebrate. I began wondering if it was because he was disappointed that I was a girl. Or that I’d become a problem.

Or was he trying to protect Dawn? However, we were ten years apart, and I’m pretty sure she moved out when I was only 9 or 10.

So, there’s that.

I made my first appointment for individual therapy.

Meanwhile, as I’m balancing therapy life, full-time work life and visiting Mom, I was struggling with a call I’d received from Bert.

That fateful evening, I was finally home around 930, comfortably sitting on the kitchen floor in the dark quiet, eating my usual meal of microwave chicken nuggets and grapefruit. When the phone rang.

Bert said “Hi” and asked me how I was doing.

“Fine”

And I was instantly infuriated. We had attempted one time to get back together, and he hurt me immensely again. It’s my belief that he did it on purpose. And is was brutal.

He asked again, “How are you REALLY doing?”

I asked why he was calling.

He said he had gone to visit Mom at the hospital.

I said, “No you didn’t, No one is allowed in except immediate family. And how did you know?”

“Well, that’s why I went in uniform and Kenny told me.” Ken was a mutual friend from church. He’d heard about Mom in the Sunday prayer announcement.

“You know how much I love her. I went in uniform so they’d let me see her and not ask questions. I’m still family. I want to be your family.”

“I held her hand.”

And then he apologized for everything he had done wrong.

Just like that, I felt myself being reeled back in like a 130-pound grouper that was tired of fighting; being pulled up from the bottom of Tampa Bay.

I was exhausted. I had a lingering upper respiratory infection. I’d been working full time and trying to stay afloat at this relatively new job with the VA. It wasn’t that great, but it was steady and secure. I worked with a bunch of people with egos, a bunch of people who were favored, a bunch of people who were lazy. I had only one confidant there. I saw myself eventually moving on, but I knew I just had to stay put for the time being. I wanted to go back to college.

I told him all of that.

My “Ex” was becoming my “current” again. I could feel it.

I went on to tell him that I’d let a male friend-of-a-friend move in with me. He was only supposed to stay for a couple of weeks while he found a place to live. Then his story changed and he was going to move in with his Uncle once they’d gotten a room ready for him.

“Darren” had moved from Ohio, just divorced his wife, and was going to find a job in Clearwater. Long story short, 2 weeks turned into 2 months. I never received any money from him for his prolonged stay. He never got a job. He stayed at my apartment smoking pot, while I got up and dealt with life’s BS every day.

I’d come home to find him in the only chair I owned, my favorite Papasan chair, stoned out of his mind.

The cherry on top? I walked out to a dark parking lot one morning to go to work and noticed that his Trailblazer was gone. In the pit of my stomach, I knew it was repossessed.

Now Bert knew it all.

“I’ll take care of it” he said.

The next day, I came home from work and my apartment looked as if nothing had ever happened. It was clean, my spare bedroom was empty, and there wasn’t a pothead in my Papasan.

I was taking a huge risk, because somewhere deep down, I know he didn’t have his alcoholism under control. He had secrets. My intuition was screaming at me, but in my weakness, I ignored it. Here was a man willing to pick me up at my lowest, rescue me from my mess, and tell me he was going to make everything ok. If he had gone out of his way to visit Mom, and apologize, and get that dude out of my apartment, then maybe he truly loved me.

All I ever needed was for one male to help me feel safe and protected. He was a police officer. This was all going to be OK.

Plus…he adored my Mom.

In some strange way, the stroke became one of the greatest blessings of Mom’s life. She had people looking after her, caring for her, making her stronger. Life was controlled. She had been forcefully removed from all chaos in her life while the rest of us were left trying to figure out how to remove the chaos from ours.