Everything I'm Not Made Me Everything I Am

“I believe this is the first time in a long time I’ve ever admitted or thought about the realness of my childhood”

Have you judged me today? If so, how well can you say that you know me enough to even make a claim against me? I feel sometimes people are so quick to judge others but have no idea what shaped each individual into what they are today. I want to tell my readers all about me, but I can’t without telling you who my family is. Follow closely because I’m going to post about each individual in my immediate family, and show you how they’ve shaped me into Victoria Whitsett. So do you know my father, Victor Sanders? Many may not know too much about my childhood; not even my closest friends and I don’t think anyone other than family knows that my father was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was younger. A schizophrenic cannot tell the difference between real and unreal experiences, think logically, have normal emotional responses, and behave normally in social situations. My earliest memories of my dad was a loving father, playing with me with my dolls and having tea parties, but also being abusive to my mother; blackening her eyes, and chasing her down the street.

“This maybe a little too raw but you can’t truly know me without knowing my experiences.”

This is what I saw as a child though and seeing this changed my outlook on relationships. To this day I close my eyes on the bad scenes in movies like “The Color Purple”, “What’s Love Got to Do With it?”, and “Jason’s Lyric”. I guess I close my eyes because that’s what I did when I was younger, and if you can’t see it then it didn’t happen right? My mom wasn’t fool though; she only stayed because she literally didn’t have any place to go with four kids. We finally moved up north when I was 6, I guess my mom felt if we moved further it would be harder for him to get to her. He always found us though, I remember coming home late one night, mom turning on the kitchen light and my dad sitting at our table, just waiting. So we moved again! My mama let us choose who we wanted to live with, my sisters and I chose mama, and my brother chose my dad. When we moved this time though we didn’t tell anyone. By now I was growing into a teenager and growing tired of man I saw my father to be. I stopped visiting him and kept our relationship to just a phone call. But have you ever had a conversation with a schizophrenic? I would literally sit and watch hours of TV while I held the phone to my ear and ignored his antics. It got to a point when my twin sister and I would see his number on the caller ID we would ignore it, or if someone accidentally answered we would act like we were sleep. Eventually I forgot about him and it didn’t bother me that I didn’t have a father; my mama pretty much had it covered. I would force myself to go visit on some holidays but wouldn’t stay long because we were strangers. By time I got to college my twin and I used to joke about my dad and his disorder. Anyone who talked or acted irrational was in Victor Sander Land. Victor Sander Land is place you never want to go because you may never come back.

When you read this don’t feel sorry for me because God makes no mistakes, and he gives you the parents you have for a reason. I wouldn’t exchange my father for anyone; he made me, and I am who I am because of him; and I see nothing wrong with me. Although my parent’s didn’t know they were working together raising me, they were and they did it well. God gave me Loretta Whitsett as a mother…the hustler by all means; survival is my mother’s strong suit. She knows how to stay warm in the winter time on a park bench…don’t think she hasn’t done it before either. Her goal was to make sure she did everything she could do for her kids. If you been to my house then you know her favorite song is “Everyday I’m hustling…because “I hustle for my kids,” she says. She made sure we had everything we needed. The only thing my mother couldn’t give me was college tuition, but that’s what I have father for right; to be there when my mother couldn’t. God gave me a father with a disability, which meant…financial aid! I wouldn’t have been able to afford college if I didn’t have the father I have. I accepted my father back in my life a few days before my college graduation. My graduation was on Sunday and he showed up to my apartment 5am on Thursday. He didn’t see me graduate but he saw me in my gown and show me how to put my tassel on, and then he went back home. And I’m ok with that because I know my father can’t help it, and plus my mom was on her way down that night, and I didn’t know how to juggle them both. I now go out to breakfast with my father once a month and I’m fine with who he is and what our relationship is, because he loves me and what more can you ask for? This post was a hard one, it took me forever to write it because I forgot about majority of these things, and until I wrote them down I had no idea I felt this way. It was even harder for me to hit that post button, because I wasn’t sure if I should put myself out there. Now you know a portion of me but don’t be so quick to judge me just yet because there’s more to go.