Like Carrie, a good part of my life was spent under the influence of something. For me, it was marijuana and alcohol that consumed the better part of my college years - and then some. Back then, I didn't know that I was self-medicating and concealing some aspect of my my subconscious, beneath the consciousness. I just thought I was simply optimizing my ability to "have a good time", and what was the harm in that?
Fast forward to 2012. Now re-wind to October 2012, two and a half months prior to me moving to northern California. Right around the time when Hurricane Sandy devastated the east cost. There were a number of things, and people, that I'd wanted to "get complete" with. That is to say, I didn't want to leave any loose ends or unsettled feelings behind in New York. But, there was one thing, one pesky little thing [I reduced it to] that I so eagerly wanted, no needed, to do. And that was to meet my mother for the first time - in 28 years.
You might be wondering why I've never met her, and to that, the answer is simple. My mother suffers from mental illness, supposedly schizophrenia, deeming her as someone who cannot care for a child. Depending on what state you're from, she can be labeled as an "unfit parent". I never actually knew what was "wrong with her". I was just told that she was not well enough to care for me. I had some old photos of her, so at least I had some semblance of what she looked like in the 70's & 80's. And I'd been in touch with her a few times in my life. Three times to be exact. Once when I was 4 years old. Once when I was about 9 years old, and again on Christmas of 2009. That time, I called her.
The conversation was sobering, and I stood for the entire 45-minute duration. Some parts of the conversation made sense, but a majority of it did not, and we wound up in a circle. But I did make a promise that I'd see her in the coming year  sometime. That was a promise that I failed to keep.
Until this past October. Like I said, I was moving to the west coast, and I didn't want to leave any stone unturned. But how could I muster up enough courage to get this ONE thing done? I looked within and the idea of writing her a letter came to mind. I didn't have her address - so I contacted my half-sister and got it, as well as her updated phone number. In the letter, I apologized for not keeping my word, and let her know that I'd be leaving the area soon and re-opened the possibility of meeting in person.
To be continued...