Go Baby Grow
Chapter 49 – In the Arms of an Angel
Sunday, June 14
From the depths of Olivia's soul:
When I sleep or pass out from the Valium, I can finally process what's going on. Everything began so innocently – I wanted to experiment, to explore the forbidden world of drugs. At first, I wasn't worried. A dancer and performer with such grand dreams surely wouldn't spiral out of control. I've worked too hard to reach this level of talent and ability. I assumed it was simply a phase. I was certain I could stop at any time.
Then, the use continued. I used more often. The dosage increased. Having a stash of pills kept the panic away.
Within a matter of weeks, I wasn't myself. I was lying about Ryder, worming my way out of trouble, and sneaking around. It's like a drug-induced monster took over and left me buried in darkness. The benefit was that I no longer hurt so much. My sadness and confusion quieted. All my wondering about my bio parents decreased. My fears of not fitting in with my family no longer worried me. How did I go from happy little girl to this mess?
When I think back, I have picture memories of my bio mom. She hummed songs throughout the day and sang softly when she rocked me. Each of us kids knew Mom adored us. Then, all of the sudden, she was gone. Vanished. That part of my life completely ended.
I remember little scenes from the period of time when Dad first brought us home from Canada. I remember calling Uncle Derek "Dr. Pepper." Dr. Karev was "Dr. Doughnut" because he'd take care of us and feed us treats while Dad met with Mom's doctors. I was so little that I never worried about why Dad was meeting with doctors so frequently. The fact that Mom lived at the hospital was my new normal. Everything was out of place, unpredictable, and different – why would one change stand out more than the others?
I knew deep down that I was safe because my brothers were with me. Dad was so loving and doting. Never having had a Dad before, I reveled in his attention and hugs. When he carried me, I felt like the most beloved queen on earth. I wish that feeling had never ended.
The first time I felt in the way occurred when the twins came home. Lynne, with her stern expectations, was caring but not doting. Dad and Mom were often busy with the babies. I couldn't put words to it then, but looking back, I can see that I no longer felt special. Between the babies and my confusing grief for my bio mom, much time passed before I could even call Mom "Mom." She felt like 'Auntie Mia,' not only because that's how I'd known her but also because I wasn't a top recipient of her attention. Besides, Ryder kind of claimed her as his from the get go. Those two fused together and bonded. I had Dad most of the time, at least when he was home.
Years passed. I became accustomed to feeling like a third wheel. I was always included, but I wasn't special. There were enough kids running around. Nobody was the star. We were all loved. Life was chaotic and busy. Dance was my refuge. On the floor, I could lose myself in the music and express my emotions with my body.
When Nolan moved to college, I felt like a part of me disappeared. I'd never realized how tightly I held on to him as a source of stability. Then his life took so many strange turns. He and Lissa married young and then Karina died. It was all so horrible. They lived far away. My summer with them in LA was one of the best times in my life. Lissa really cared about me and had time to listen. Life was softer. Being near Nolan and living with him felt right.
Over the years, I've spent so much time imagining what my life would have been like if I'd known my bio dad and if my bio mom hadn't died. What are the odds that a kid would experience the death of both parents by the time they are four-years-old? Maybe that's part of why I've always felt different. Other kids had a Dad and a Mom or two Dads or two Moms or a single parent. Trying to explain my situation involved drawing a diagram and sketching a map of North America. I've never met anyone else with a similar story.
At the best of times, I celebrate my differences. I love my red curly hair. Being a dancer fills me with joy. Dressing in my own style is fun. But at the same time, being different comes at a price. I feel like a puzzle piece that has no puzzle. Even when I'm full of joy, a small part of me feels like a fish out of water. I never quite belong.
Maybe that's how the drugs took hold. When I'm high, all this internal chatter ceases. I no longer worry about where or if I fit. All the wondering about my bio parents relaxes and fades away. Life is easier after taking a Valium. All of my stress and intense emotions are gone. Feeling different isn't even a consideration. Being broken no longer hurts.