The Patterns of Life (not to be mistaken for the fabric of our lives)

When I was six, my parents divorced. I stayed with my mom and saw my dad on the weekends.

During those first years, while I was still Daddy's girl, this was hell on me.  He would pick me up and I would spend the weekend with him. When he took me back to school on Monday morning, I would always cry my eyes out. There was nothing more painful in the world than that to me. I would sit on this swing before first bell was called and cry for him.  I've often wondered what that was like for him.

Eventually I got to where I wouldn't cry. I wish I could remember the day or why I stopped, but I don't.  I do know that for a few years after that, my mom and her husbands were causing so much drama that any time with Dad was mostly just a release from that.  I never felt comfortable at home.

But the Away Time was special.  I got to go places and do fun things. I got to be talked to and visit people and get things.  Most of all, and this was the very most of all important thing, I was safe.  Any time I was away from my mother and her abusive situations, I was safe.

Over the years, my father and I have grown distant.  We speak probably about once every three months or so.  We see each other on holidays or at my brother's children's birthday parties. I've not been to his house in some time.

However, the basic pattern of visitation has stayed with me.  I go to see my best friend once every two weeks. We hang out and basically watch movies and talk.  We eat expensive stuff and drink and laugh as loud as we can.  It's this time of escape from all the adult stuff that happens (well, in her life at least. Probably very little about my life is adult).

Here is the difference though, and the part that DOES make me the adult.  I am safe when I am with my friend. But in my own home, I am still safe.  There is no scary drama caused by people like my mother and her menz.  All of that is gone and far away from me now.

It's good to know that while some patterns never leave us, we have the ability to step away from the ones that could cause harm.

The History of Blackhaired Barbie! Or at least, an explanation of the name.

Hi there. Welcome to my blog.

I'm Blackhaired Barbie.  I do not LOOK like a Barbie with black hair. In fact, a friend gave me the nickname as kind of a twisted point of dark humor. However, there is a story behind it.

When I was a little girl, back during a time period known as The 7T's, I played with Barbies. The thing is, I have dark hair and the Barbies were always blond.  Now, I know they had dark haired barbie dolls, but they didn't make them as frequently or maybe no one bought them for me or whatever. I had a bunch of ones with light flaxen tresses.

Or I did.

As a plucky little child, I decided I didn't WANT blondes. I wanted dolls with hair like mine. So I started altering their hair color....with pretty much anything I could find. Old mascara, bits of dyes, sometimes ink I pulled out of this or that. One time, I did this with black shoe polish.

Of course, none of this went on clean. Barbie tended to look rather jacked up, with sticky, matted locks of black streaks. Then again, as we were coming into the later 7T's and the early 8D's, that punk thing was going on, so the fact that Barbie looked slovenly and had sticky up hair seemed rather badass to me. I decided I liked this punk edge to them and started giving them piercings with pins and augmenting their clothes. I would draw ripped up fishnet stockings on their legs. They looked great!

Then Gramma found my dolls, decided I'd destroyed them for some ungrateful reason, and tossed them in the trash.

But here's the point, and kind of the point of this blog:

I've never fit in or even wanted the normal stuff out there. Most often, it doesn't appeal to me or just flat out won't work. So I've had to adapt. Often my adaptation is weird. But just as often, it is something that works very well for me, ends up having very deep meaning for me, and just might be something that could help others too.

This blog will be about my continual adaptation to the challenges around me.  The strange, sometimes sad, and often humorous ways in which I cope with life. Enjoy.