More about me

I got a tad side tracked in my efforts to describe myself, so I felt it best to begin anew.

As I said I am 35. I feel younger some days and older other days. I was born in Germany. My father was stationed there. My mother simply told me that with only a radio to fill the time, they became creative at finding other things to do. I was conceived and born in the same country. Shortly after my birth, my father's time of service was over and he decided to pack his bags, his wife and newborn daughter and head home.

Most of my life was happy. I can only imagine what I was like as a child. My mother describes me as demanding, emotional and strong willed. Perhaps this is why she cursed me with a son who is the same as I. Have to enjoy the "parent's curse".

I remember feeling like I didn't belong most of the time. I felt like an outsider in my family. I did very well in school. In fact I loved school. Sadly this made me an outcast as well. My life in school was never good. I did well academically, but socially I struggled to make friendships with my peers. Often I found myself the target of cruel jokes and ridicule. Children can be so very mean. I did not have thick skin and this made me an even easier target. The few times I would stand up for myself I often ended up in a worse situation than it began.

One such memory was when I was in the fourth grade. A young lady I rivaled with in class began heckling me one day. We had a sub, so she took advantage of this situation. Finally angered by her terribly hurtful words, I finally screamed at her to shut up. Her response was "Why don't you make me?" The most appropriate response at the time was "I don't make trash I burn it!" Her response, with a smug cock and shake of her head was "So burn me!" Now I should have know to stop there. I knew what I was about to say was the most terrible thing I could ever muster past my lips. I knew that my parents would be so angry with me for saying it, but like a cornered animal I snapped. I could feel the anger fill me and I was shaking uncontrollably. And I uttered the most horrible words I could have ever said to a girl who was black. "TOO LATE! YOU ARE ALREADY BURNT!"

Her reaction came faster than I expected. She slapped me sharply across the face and we both watched in fascinated horror as my glasses went flying across the school yard, shattering as they hit the ground. That was the instant I felt my second wave of panic for the day.

I had worn glasses since I was in second grade. A horrid curse for any child. Names like "four eyes" were slung so often, I should have not thought much of it. But for a girl who wanted nothing more than to be liked unconditionally, they were the cruelest thing ever given to me. I had a hard time not destroying my glasses. My greatest fear was the idea of a lost or broken pair. My parents reminded me regularly how much those things cost and never let me forget it either. I can't blame them. We were not a poor family but not wealthy either. Affording things such as glasses which were a necessity came with much responsibility.

Of course I was hysterical by the time the teacher made it to the classroom. I knew I was in for it. Not only with the teacher and the school, but also with my parents. For some reason the peers who vehemently detested me defended me that day and never mentioned what I had said. Not initially anyways. I don't recall getting into trouble over the incident either. I do remember that the girl's parents agreed to pay for half of my glasses to be replaced.

My years of Junior high became ever more difficult to bear. I was placed in lower level classes my 7th grade year. I grew bored with the classes I was getting straight A's in. I began getting into minor trouble as a way to win marks with my peers. After 1 semester of pure Hell, I finally convinced my counselor I would have less problems if I was placed into more difficult classes. I remember him scoffing at me and telling me I would fail. But I was determined and pressed the issue.

I was then presented with a whole new set of circumstances. New kids who found more reason to mock me and heckle me. I was bright and learned fast. I was eager and absorbed information like a sponge. However this painted me as a geek and a nerd. But I somehow managed even not to fit in with those individuals. I was not reserved enough for their clicks.

In science class I had a girl who enjoyed seeing me squirm as she would mock my name repeatedly to everyone. In English I was forced to sit at a table because there were not enough desks and a young lady in this class enjoyed pulling my hair, name calling, and kicking her feet in my face.

But still I persevered to learn everything I could. Knowledge was going to be my power. But as I grew older the reigns of my parents tightened and I was unable to do more than go to school and come home. I felt more miserable and alone than I ever did.

During the summer after my first year in Junior High, I made a friend. She was the complete opposite of me. She was alive, spirited, and bubbly. She had a smile and a laugh that could brighten any day. She made me feel like I was someone special. I was her backbone. We complimented each other in so many ways. I don't think I would have made it if it hadn't been for her friendship.

High School became a tad more challenging for me. I was terrified actually. I knew I was only a short distance away from a freedom I was not ready for. But I still excelled academically. My best friend moved away, though we remained in touch. I made new friends. I was a band geek. I lived for my music and school work. Despite it all, my high school years were my happiest. I grew as a person and learned so much from the people of my life.

I graduated in the top 7% of my class. I felt that was a pretty good accomplishment.

Becoming an adult was way more difficult. I have truly suffered some major growing pains.

But I am going to save them for another post.

Wow! Welcome to the World of Blogging!

Hard to imagine with all my experiences with computer and the Internet, that blogging is one of the last things I saw myself doing. Much like scrap booking, the idea seems evolutionarily charming and yet such a HUGE responsibility that once begun, must be seen all the way through to the end.

Seeing as how I often start multiple projects, only to set them aside once the charm has worn off, I hadn't given much thought to the idea of blogging.

But as life continues to "happen" in my world, I see myself needing this process more and more; if only as a way to get my feeling out in the open. Sort of like a diary - for all the world to see.

I also have a strong affection for writing. I love the idea of the written language. The simple nuances of words and the emotions they inflict in the reader. The opportunity to open a world up to someone where none had existed previously. To make a moment as passionate as if it had been actually lived and experienced. To detail a situation so completely that you often wonder if it really happened, or was it merely a part of your imagination.

While most children ran and played and experienced life outside of their homes, my life was consumed by the fears of my parents. Now being a novice parent myself, I no longer blame them. My world was comprised of musical artists like Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Chopin and Schuster. Literary works such as J.R.R Tolkien's The Hobbit and stories of mythical lands and creatures consumed my very life. Books that are now mere images on the big screen had lived in my heart and mind long before their big screen debuts. I have found solace in the written word and grew to love the languages it created.

I only hope I can create such a place here.

So why the title of my Blog?

I live a life that I had never imagined living. I am wife and mother to a blended family. Much as I would like to admit we have our own cozy little Brady Bunch thing going on here, I can assure you our household could challenge most reality shows any day. It is messy and full of cruel realizations. Not the charming life I had imagined in my days buried in books where families were of pristine caricature.

Yes my life is not what I had imagined or hoped for. And yet I am blessed more so than any person I know. Even in the midst of my greatest challenges, I see a future not yet told and prizes beyond the heart of imagination. Truly I am blessed.

Perhaps the proper thing to do is introduce myself. In my dreams of being a writer I had created a pseudonym for myself: Gailyn Nicole Dabneigh. So perhaps for now I shall be this person. I am still as real as any human gets, but because this cyber world can often present some very real concerns, I would like to think I am creating a non-fictional character of myself, and changed my name to protect the innocent.

I am 35 years old. Though in my heart I still feel like a brisk 17. Far from looking like it. I was not born in the US, however I am a US citizen. I was born to two of the most wonderful human beings I ever had the opportunity to love and know.

My mother was adopted by her biological Uncle and his wife and raised not having a relationship with her bio parents because they simply didn't want her. My mother's life even through the adoption was not a happy one. Her Uncle, the adoptive father, left her Aunt, her adoptive mother for another woman. Sadly this did not help the fragile mental state of her mother and for a short time she was hospitalized. My mother then went to stay with her grandmother until her mother got better. Her mother then married the brother of the adulter ex husband. He, sadly, was no better. The man had a strange fetish for small children. Mercifully, my mother was spared from his fetish. However years later, some distant relatives were not. Despite all this, my mother is the strongest woman I know and the most beautiful. She is most definitely my hero.

My father is someone I came to know better later in my life than as a young girl. I was not a "daddy's girl". Not sure why, but our relationship was always strained. Probably because I demanded too much of him emotionally at times and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. But I digress. My father was the only son of 4 children. With two retired military parents he had a lot of stress as the only son. Many expectations for a young boy. His father had been with the railroad for many years, his mother passed away prematurely from alcohol and tobacco abuse. My father's life was not charmed, nor was it bad either. However I think my father had a strained relationship with his father. The kind where a father's love was so great it was ultimately the undoing of the relationship as well. My father also had to live with two alcoholic parents and smokers. Another terrible burden to deal with. Thankfully there was no real sign of abuse. But the effects of the legal drug use certainly made its mark on my father.

As I said my father and I never had a good relationship in my youth and teen years. In my fantasy world he was the mean and terrible giant who kept me locked in the tower. He was the heartless thief who stole my youth. He was like the wicked step-father of the most horrid wicked step-mother fairy tale. I felt as if he and I were never destined to connect. All his love and attention was lavished on his son, whom I felt didn't deserve that attention. I found myself becoming a bit tom boyish just to achieve his affection.

But now as a mother myself, and after many long talks, my father is not the beastly man I made him out to be so many years ago. My father wanted the life of his children to be different than his own. My mother and father, who had absent parents in their lives wanted to be there for us in everything we wanted to do. Their love for us was so strong that the fear of loosing us was too great a risk to allow us to grow up outside of our safe home walls. My father has a bond with his son that he had not shared with his own father. Something I now respect in him. I have a bond with my mother that every daughter should have, but I know my father loves me no less than he does my brother. It is simply a matter of gendered relationships and bonds that must be there.

My father and mother made my life wonderful. I look back on my youth with fond affection, and not the bitterness I once had. Being a mother changed me in so many ways. My parents get the satisfaction of a gentle "I told you so" chuckle with each new phone call I make. Being a mother has taught me more about my parents than I ever could have imagined. They are my world, and I know that one day they will have to leave this place. It will be a bitter, terrible thing to experience, but I am so very blessed to have had the opportunity to learn everything my parents ever wanted me to and more. They have the satisfaction of knowing all those blood, tears, and heartaches were not in vain.