It’s never been a secret that I didn’t have the best childhood. My father bailed when I was too young to even know I had a father, and my mother put partying and drugs before her children, and married a man who abused me. While both have attempted to atone for their actions, I’ve always wondered why the cycle stopped with me.

It’s long been discussed that abuse and addiction spiral children into a vicious cycle. The abused will abuse. But with me, that never happened. I’m not typically a violent person, even though I may be short-tempered and easily agitated at times. As far as drugs go, I’ve never done anything worse than pot. I’ve seen it, I’ve been around it, I’ve been offered it, but the thought never appealed to me.

Throughout the years of my childhood.. what went right? Surrogacy.

While my parents were making poor life choices, somehow, I always found people who DID love and care for me. I didn’t actively seek out these people, maybe they found me. No matter how they came into my life, I’ve had many “mothers”.

My grandmother and grandfather stepped up to the plate early in my life. My earliest memory is of my grandma and my Mom fighting over me, and my grandfather intervening and bringing me inside. My grandfather was the man who I will always be able to say loved me first, and the most.

As I got older, and really saw and understood my mother was an addict, I became close to my friends mother. Mea, or as I call her, Mummuhz, became my guiding light, and really took me under her wing. We had lost touch for several years, and when I moved back to the area, rekindling my relationship with her, her husband, and her son became an important, albeit easy, task. They re-welcomed me with open arms, and saved me once again. Not only is she a surrogate mother, but I call her son my brother.

Making the choice to move 3,000 miles away was difficult for me. Not only was I moving away from my sisters, who I’ve cared for their whole lives, and making it more difficult for my mother and I to repair our relationship, I was leaving my surrogate family. It was so hard to explain to all of them that I loved them, I wasn’t unhappy with them, I just needed to go where my heart was leading me. Like any loving family, they understood and supported me.

When I made the move, at first I felt a rush of adrenaline. Then, it started to sink in, I didn’t have any of my “Mom’s” here. But, in typical Pixie fashion, once again I have found family.

The BFF is my rock. She’s not a mother-figure to me, but the world would be infinitely more lonely had I not found her. She has helped me in more ways then I could ever explain. I didn’t just gain a best friend, I didn’t just find that there is someone out there who understands me. Her family has also welcomed me. Her sister refers to me as “Auntie Pixie” to her 4 children, whom I adore. Her mother has been loving and welcoming as well. Even her Aunt from up north has welcomed me.

It’s not always in person I find family either. For a very long time, members of the Julien-K message board were my family, some of whom I still talk to today. Those people brought me through some of the roughest of times.

When it boils down to it, as of late, I’ve looked into my life and really recognized all the life lessons I’ve learned. Don’t put metal in the microwave, don’t put the whole bottle of food coloring in your sisters bathwater (sorry Emi!), never trust an adult beverage that sounds like a porn film. But the most important lesson I’ve ever learned? “Family” isn’t blood, it’s all the crazies you choose to keep in your life.

And man, I sure picked a bunch of weird ones.

P.S.: According to WordPress, this is post #100! Wooo! I finally made it! Hey, shut up, it’s not a race!


2 Responses to “Surrogacy”

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October 2012
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