They started out as babysitters, and we built an amazing friendship. They eventually became my godparents. For a long time we didn’t understand why my godmother was so paranoid, she would tell me to watch out, not to answer the phone, to hide knives all over the house, and not to listen to my parents. She told me my parents didn’t care about me and they were planning on giving me away. Being a child; perception was reality. My father struggled with alcoholism and would have violent outbursts, I would react and start to cry, terrified that it was my fault and they were finally going to get rid of me. My dad used it against me when I would misbehave, he would threaten to put me up for adoption.
I caught my godmother yelling at thin air, screaming and crying to leave her alone. I was terrified. I told my godfather and he sat me down to tell me she was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. As a child I had no idea what that meant.
It was like good cops, bad cops. My parents couldn’t afford to get me anything and everything I wanted and I didn’t understand why. But my godparents could. They took me on vacations and they did things for me my parents couldn’t. From my perspective as a child I just thought it was because my parents didn’t care about me. I know it was never my godparent’s intention to confuse me. They loved me the only way they knew how.
I knew I had to see them as soon as possible because my time was running out; I needed drugs, and I needed them now. They didn’t see through my bullshit, they thought I was the angel they knew as a child, the girl who played sports on the weekends and liked to draw at night. They never doubted my lies, they trusted me and they only wanted what was best for me. I called them that day like I promised. I know they counted on me to brighten their day; they were never able to have kids of their own so I was all they had. I loved them, I still love them, and they are a part of me. They watched over me from the time I was 6 months. They were always there for me, especially when my parents were not. They needed me more than I needed them and I knew it. The addict in me used that to my advantage. After I left their place I went straight to my dealer to pick up, and I drove home and went to bed.
That was the last time I saw them, it has been 3 years and I don’t know where they are. I selfishly cut them out of my life. I tell myself it was for them; to protect them. But I am lying. I did it for me, like everything else. I did it so I wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt and shame; I did it so I could pretend I wasn’t that person. I think about them every single day. I miss them so much and I want to apologize. Their number is no longer in service, I have tried emailing them and I haven’t heard back yet. If I ever get the opportunity to have them in my life again, I will do my best to make them know how important they are.