Pharmacy Meet up – I’ll cry if I want to

One time I was at the pharmacy, at the Naval Hospital, San Diego.  I was waiting on a prescription to be filled.  A lady approached me and asked if I was the “Heidi that lived in North Park, ” near her street (the main street to school, that has slipped my mind, at the moment.)

I was so shocked.  How could she know that I used to live there?

She said she saw my shirt when I was in line.  The shirt had a photo of Tim and I and our names on it.  We had them made at the Fair.

She said I was the only girl named Heidi that she had ever known.  I asked her if she was married and she said “no.”

I was confused why she was there to get an rx.  She said she was still a dependent of her dad.  We talked for a few minutes about her dad.  I didn’t know he was active duty.  I was raised with a single mother and seeing her without a dad was not unusual to me.  I do remember her dad at a birthday party over there.  But, I never considered her having a dad that was just underway and out to sea so often that I never saw him.

I used to go to Lynn and her sister’s house every morning, before school.  I would sit on the sofa while they finished getting ready for school.  They ate hot cereal a lot.  Their mom would cool it with the hair dryer. I though that was creative.

Lynn said something to me, that night, that I keep remembering.  She said she mostly remembers that I used to cry a lot.

Thinking back I could have cried that their mom was even up with them in the morning. Their mom was the only mom I knew in the early morning before school.  My mom didn’t get up with me to get ready for school.  She would set an alarm and wake me up, but she always went back to bed and I got ready to go on my own.

I don’t remember crying all the time.  But I know that I did cry a lot during that period of my life.. so it makes sense to me.  I just found it ironic that that is all she recalled about me.

A Challenge to My Balance

I’ve always felt that I’ve lived my life in a serious yet strange void.  Like driving on the interstate, in a section where only you reside.. the cars in front of you are a good distance, but together, and the cars behind you are in the same type group, together, yet a good distance behind you..  driving in your own void.

I’ve lived my entire life being some type of challenge, good or bad.  I was never one to “go with the flow.”  I just, usually, created my own  flow.  I didn’t fit in, so I made my own rules and my own games and my own non-reality for sanity. It has made me a difficult friend.  Or rather, I couldn’t find a friend that would be as equally devoted as I was willing to be.  It was how I learned that most people are selfish and think of their own #1 first.  I don’t.  I am okay with that most of the time.

I’ve always done the best that I could do, in the places that I could, and in the places that I couldn’t, I usually cried.  Seriously.  Cried.  I don’t find crying a bad thing, but I don’t find it easy to really cry, anymore, either.  Its easier to stay on the top of an emotion than to get buried into one, and have to climb out of it.  I guess that makes me too lazy to get too emotionally invested in myself.

This project to write my life story is a  huge challenge.  I’m not sure if I’m capable of writing it, but I’m going to just dig in one post at a time and see what comes out of my fingers. :) ~Heidi