Confession is good for the soul, and, deep breath, here goes…
I just called my son-in-law and told him I put $50 in his bank account just now. Well, in his joint account with my daughter. I didn’t have to tell him why but I did and he understood because he’s a great guy. And I told him to make sure she understood that this was important for me to do.
In 2006, I stole $500 from my daughter’s bank account. It was so simple really. The bank knew me; I’m a flirt, what can I say? So when I walked in and pretended I could not remember the account number, they said, “No problem” and it was really no problem. I did intend to redeposit it in a few days when I got paid but my ex-girlfriend stole my paycheck and spent it on drugs, which was what the $500 was for in the first place; really I can’t place the blame at her door for I am an adult and guilty as well. Yes, I know. I’m a royal piece of crap, or I was then. I’m an entirely different person now.
Needless to say, my daughter did not speak to me for…well, at least four years, although it felt like a much longer time. In lesbian years, that’s actually about 17 years, I think. These days we talk at least once a week, sometimes more, and she is bringing me my grandsons on my birthday, June 30th and I get them for 12 whole days and I couldn’t be happier.
Why this act of conscience now? Well, suddenly I’m not so sick anymore and I’m making more money, being productive, and this seemed like a good time to give back. And $50 every few weeks will mean a lot to my self-esteem, and to them as they struggle to recover financially from first a flood in their house and then to my daughter’s accident in January.
So, dear friends, that’s the deep dark truth. And I cry as I type because I can not change the past. I can only accept my personal responsibility for it. Go on, throw feces at me like the other monkeys would if I were in the zoo; it’s really no more and no less than what I deserve. I feel so stupid sometimes, ashamed really, and not at all perfect like I was going for.