Divorce and Departure

You want to know my story? Well, it depends who you ask. You’re on my blog, so we’ll just assume you’re asking me! That means you’ll get my story, but that also means that there are a lot of unanswered questions. I know two different versions of my very early life that cannot both be totally true at the same time. There’s not much I can say about that. Therefore, my story is just what I can confidently say I know – which is only what I have experienced.

In 1982, I was born to a man and a woman who were married and who both had a child of their own in addition to me. So baby Angela made five. Five unhappy people — from what I’ve heard, anyhow. I will share this particular piece of hearsay because I don’t think anyone disagrees on this point. I have zero memories of this time, but many very painful stories have been shared with me. I cannot, however, verify any of it; I simply don’t remember. Although I do have memories from being a very small child, even before my parents divorced, those early memories of my mother and of my father are entirely segregated. Maybe that’s best.

After a nasty divorce, my dad won full custody of me when I was about four years old. I remember my mom coming to get me after what must have been the final ruling. I had been at a woman’s house napping, or perhaps pretending to nap, in her college daughter’s room. In her bed, there was a stuffed animal, a white cat, that I found terribly cute.

And then there are no memories of my father after that, because my mom and I ran away from him.

This is the first installment in a series in honor of National Missing Children’s Day. Read part two here.

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