I was conceived during the confusion of the divorce between my parents.
My mother was using a diaphragm.
As a child, I will interpret this to mean that I was:
And therefore, undesired.
I will tell myself my father didn’t want anything to do with me and that my mother “had” to take care of me.
Eventually I will conclude that I am…
Damaged and broken.
I will wonder whether I was even meant to be on the planet.
In this story I have a gaping hole, and I will try to…
Fill the hole.
Avoid the darkness.
Eat away the pain.
And distract myself from this very painful story and the way I feel when I think it.
I spend years (okay, decades) never quite feeling like I belong or that I am accepted. No relationship or crevice of my life is untouched by this story.
The hole is never filled.
My weight struggle is just one of many that torments my life.
Until one day I realize that there is another story here.
One that rings more true.
One that kicks the old one to the curb.
It goes like this:
Homegirl was MEANT to be here.
I was MEANT to be conceived…
During THOSE divorce proceedings.
What else ya got?
Time to rock it out on Planet Earth.
Today is Conception Day.
Bad-Ass Embryo – Coming. Through.
CJ in the womb – Yo!