Birthday timeline: Area Frenchman, an immigrant, searching for love 1974--Im 4, I have 2 mothers, 2 fathers, 3 sisters. Bernadette Cottret is my mom during the day, my nanny, she loves me like her own children, Laure Cottret, Valérie Cottret, and Géraldine. I love them like I belong to them. Life is great at that age, I dont yet dream of America. In therapy three decades later, I will realize that Bernadette, Dédé, her husband, and my three sisters played a crucial role in my early childhood development. They nurtured me into a respectable, law abiding Area Frenchman. 1984--Im 14. Mom is depressed and physically violent, she nearly took my eye out. Literally. Dad is depressed and emotionally abusive. He ignores the violence at home. Hes part of the problem. I hate myself and dont like to be be liked. Im physically and emotionally violent toward my little sister. I love and hate her. I love her now, I love you, Sylvie Bordeau. Bernadette and my three sisters are no longer in my life, we moved away 7 years earlier. Nurturing love is no longer a permanent feature, grandma Jeannette visits occasionally, but thats not enough. Im suffocating. I dont love, I just want to run away. That year my friend Gilles Uclès (havent found him on Facebook), sent me a postcard from America, from a place called Detroit, in Michigan. His uncle lives there, he visited him, went to a baseball match, had a blast. On the postcard theres a big football stadium with a large yellow M printed in the middle of the field. Silly Americans to paint a big M in a middle of a field, and call it La Grande Maison, the Big House. That year the Tigers were the baseball champs, and Magnum PI was my favorite TV show. When Gilles returns to France, he has a gift for me. Magnum PIs cap, the champs hat. I cried of joy and confusion. Someone cared about him. America is love. I love you back America, one day we shall meet! You shall free me with love! 1994--Im in college in America. midway through a Bachelor Degree in English and French Literature. Im on scholarship. Im smart, Im in America. All is good? Not so fast. Bernadette, the Ideal Mother has died. I cant come to the funeral, Im too poor. Jeannette, my loving grandma has died. I cant come to the funeral, Im broke. I cry far away, trapped in America. Fortunately, I met a wonderful woman the year before, who reminded me of Bernadette, who taught me that Iove transcends time and space. She helps me grieve, the healthy way. Maureen Dempsey, your love for Desmond Dean and Joel taught me a great lesson. Nurturing is All, loving a child comes first. I make good use of your teaching when Im around Gabe. I do not miss an opportunity to show that I can be a caring dad. I nurture the way you taught me, the way Bernadette and Jeanette taught me. At the end of 1994, I meet Shannon, who would become my life partner for the next 14 years. I met her thanks to Jami Ingledue, and Jason Bennett, who, i hope will remain my friends for an eternity. At 24, my dream is becoming true. Im in America discovering that even death cannot trump love. 2004--I have lived in the US over ten years. I have a job, a home, a car, a life partner, friends, and even seasonal enemies. I work 5 minutes away from LA Grande Maison, 45 from Detroit. The dream did come true? Not so fast. I am a grad from THE Ohio State University, and work for the rival school, the University of Michigan. My seasonal enemies are also my best friends, Andrew Conant, James Stimpson, and Joe Henderson. They just hate that OSU football dominates. I laugh at work with those other great friends who dont give a hoot about football, Dan Freidus, and co. I dont laugh at home. Im a pest--im an asshole really. But I dont know it yet, or I feign to ignore it. She has yet to leave me, I have yet to start therapy. I have yet to open my good eye on the nature of my self-loathing. Love is not easy to believe in. Never was. Im 34, im a law abiding immigrant, who is successful, who is living the Dream of a 14 year-old. Yet I dont really know who I am. My deepest desire at that time? A vasectomy. I dont want children. I dont want kids who would be like me. I still hate. 2014-today, I am 44. How did survive the past 10 years? Therapy and love. And surgery: I got a new eye. And self-love. And love for a loving mother and her child. At 44 i know that I am a victim of childhood PTSD, I have GAD, I am ADHD. I didnt know that side of me 10 years ago. I refused to accept that a dream come true can be built on shitty foundations. All is better now, i know why I hated myself to the point of getting a vasectomy, having many battles with suicidal ideation, and being an ass. I am beginning to know who I was and what I should be. And if I ever forget that i am truly capable of self-love, I have a wonderful wife, Jane Bordeau, and amazing stepkiddo, who will never fail to remind me... with their own love. At 44, I know that Area Frenchman is no longer running away from himself, chasing the dream of an anxious 14-year old. I still wear my Magnum PI hat, but i left Detroit for Atlanta. I still love the Big House, but will forever root for the Horse Shoe. I have lived the dream of my young self. Now i share the dream of a wonderful mother and wife and her 13 year old boy. My Jane. My Gabe. I love them so much. Love and Peace, Area Frenchman, immigrant, crying for joy.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 12:51:32 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015