We live in a fairly small town, the very town I was born and raised in. But for thirteen years I was free. Free to share only what I wanted to share. Free from the chance encounter of those I’d rather avoid. Free from the harshest of triggers. Free from a past that those who know a little about have the opportunity to piece together.

We just rolled over a fresh new year. This is our twentieth year of being back in this small community and still my least favorite question often plagues me. It’s innocent enough asking what my maiden name is or who my parents are but for me it brings back a flood of darkness that threatens to diminish the light. I struggle keeping my answer light knowing a cloud of doom has surrounded me and sleep will elude me yet again.

If I am to be honest I don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle of my past. Then again maybe I do but they are too deeply buried to ever resurface. There are some pieces though that stick out boldly and I know just where to place them, other pieces are just background, a jumble of days left in shadow. I ask myself, what good can come from piecing it all together now?

January has a way of slowing things down. After a hectic holiday season, we are given a longer month with less to do. At least for me. It is a time to reflect on the year that has passed and me being me I look for the things that I learned and what I can attempt to do better.

For those who know me you know how I treasure my family. You know that my greatest wish was to be loved unconditionally and to have a family created by that love. It is a beautiful wish come true to be certain but I struggle with parenting our young adults. I am thrilled at how they value their independence, ecstatic for their work ethic and success thereof but I find it difficult to “stay in my lane” when it comes to sharing. It is no longer my news to share even though I am bursting with pride. I have learned they prefer me to stay silent. Along these lines I want those who found themselves ousted on social media to know why. My family is too important, my eagerness to share too tempting and my want to please everyone made a combination that resulted in a much smaller audience. I do hope you understand. Although I rely greatly on social media for my small baking business, I’m beginning to see the entertainment of social media is sometimes misused, misinterpreted and can be hurtful.

Without betraying information that isn’t already widely known for most I can share a little of how our four young adults are. Let’s start with a middle this year, how about our Andrew. Talk about independence. The boy who said he doesn’t want to be known as just Dave Waites son and who wants to make a name for himself is doing very well. Married with three dogs, promoted to project manager and filling any extra time with friends. His bigger than life heart is what attracts so many to him. Although he is less than an hour away we long to see more of him. Onto the oldest, who is currently in the doghouse so to speak with his mother. Japan is just ridiculous! I have to say it’s NOT growing on me and if time could please pause the growth of the two grands that are there I would be much happier. Ryan, more importantly is happy. I know he longed to be back in the fleet. His more civilian days as a recruiter were grueling no matter how good he was at it. He is content with less hours and more focused on his goals in his military career. I am often reminded of our days moving around and am grateful his family is as supportive as they are. Now to our girls. The youngest, steadfast and determined is seeing her goals achieved. Emily and Jack, after months of searching for a home to buy or build moved into a duplex this past fall. Then just about the time the last box was unpacked they found a house and moved in right before Christmas. She fulfilled all the required tests and is a full-fledged CPA now. She is active in their church, loves trying new recipes and enjoys the company of her parents (or maybe her handy father 🙂  And now for our Sarah. This young woman thrives on keeping busy. She must because not only is she the mother of three young children, the righthand gal to their business and all that requires but together with Mitch they took on a new venture. They are the new owners of a day care. Sarah is our no-nonsense girl, she is smart, she is kind, she works hard and loves even harder. Her spirit is reflected in the heart of her children and we couldn’t be prouder.  

As our children turn into young adults they will inevitably see us differently. We will no longer be the heroes of their youth but humans with flaws. They will also have others influencing their opinions of us, good and bad and I have long since forever shielded them from the ugliness of my past. Our children don’t question the grandparents they don’t know. They don’t read all the things that I write. They don’t know what it is to go hungry when the cupboards are bare and the fridge contains nothing but margarine and condiments. They don’t know what it is to be awakened from sleep by a frantic parent, forced into a car with nothing but the clothes on their backs and taken to a strange house with no explanation. What they do know is that I suffered some abuse in my childhood, they know why I’m not a big drinker and they know that their Dad is the steady I rely on.

When you have lived the life I have your level of appreciation is magnified. I know what it is to barely scrape by. I know what it is to collect aluminum cans for the nickel redemption.  I have known a fear so terrifying that my heartbeat felt outside of my body, drumming in my ears with absolutely no distraction to soothe me, no safe place for me to turn to, no help when I asked for it. I learned early that trust is invaluable, faith is felt deep within and love comes in many forms. The appreciation I have for the life I currently live cannot be measured.

Back to the family update; Dave  is as always a go getter. I have however have noticed slight changes in how he spends his time away from work. Perhaps a little slower. He still fills as many hours a day as he can but he’s also enjoying more down time. It is wrestling season, a time he gets to share with Andrew. Looking forward his year will be full. The development company started a duplex and I foresee many evenings alone. He would like to visit Japan, there will be a national wrestling something or other in March and of course the annual four wheeling trip. He still takes Monday afternoons off to spend with a little. It is the highlight of our week. He’s getting more attention as the grands age, I knew he would. In fact, this past Monday we had Leighton, Sarah’s middle. She’s a firecracker with a smile that doesn’t stop and Papa eats it up. She says to him when he finally sinks into his recliner, “come chase me” and you can bet he was up and off that seat as giggles turned into pitter patter and belly laughing was heard throughout the house. Talk about things being magnified. Being grandparents is the best. It’s like revisiting a previous time only with more appreciation, less stress and love doubled.

As for me, living here in this small town. I believe we are where we are meant to be. We prayed for guidance when making the decision to move back and I can see all of the good that has come from that choice.

When you leave your home town you become quite small and the world expands. You see things differently; more opportunities are available than you once thought for yourself. I liken it to being in a cage then set free. Self-reliant, self-satisfying and you learn more about who you are, what you’re truly made of and who you want to be. Of course, all of these things can also happen when you’re out on your own but it is even bigger when you move away. Leaving was a good thing for me. My past could be ignored and I forged on with focus on our future. Only now I know the past is a part of me, always with me. Although I long to be more anonymous I am proud of all I have accomplished. No, it’s not big and flashy, it’s better than that. I, who once shivered cold and frightened on a hardwood floor in a domestic violence shelter with my brothers and sister and our beaten and battered mother, am as safe and secure as I can be. I, who crawled out an upstairs window to jump off the porch roof and phone for help, have all the bills paid monthly, a working phone and a reliable vehicle. I, who never came first, who did as much right as I knew how to make her happy, know what true love is. It is not conditional to cleaning the house, doing the laundry, taking care of siblings, exchanging government assistance purchased food for cash to buy booze. I am loved by just being myself. I am someone who lived through the unimaginable. I don’t love the term survivor, that sounds like I should be Rocky standing at the top of a staircase, fists raised. It’s not like that for me. Maybe one day it will be. Maybe one day I will be free of that dark developing past that threatens all light. What I want most of all is to celebrate who I am now. I am Jessica Waite. I am Dave Waite’s wife. I am Ryan’s mom. I am Sarah’s mom, I am Andrew’s mom, I am Emily’s mom. I am the cookie baker for J Dubs Sweet Treats. I have many loyal customers. I have a few close friends. And yes, I live in the small town I where I was born. Where police frequented my childhood home and the local paper spelled it out for all to read. A town where some people know parts of that story, my story. Where some judge me without considering all that I experienced and it is our experience that makes us who we are. I am slow to trust, I am weary of those who threaten my happiness, I always consider ulterior motives and am definitely a glass half empty girl. I prefer control over willy-nilly and organization calms me. A clean house makes me happy and safety is a priority. I understand how some might think it should be easy to cast aside the evils of my past. There is nothing I’d like better, but for me it is not that easy. Until you can put yourself in my hand me down clothes, age 11, washing dishes at the kitchen sink of an older relative who has just tapped my tush and told me it’s time for a “nap” please, please try to understand why that question haunts me.