Divorced and starting over, my brother Chris flew in and Gene was driving up from Florida to pack me up. I was 21 years old, separated in May 1988, filed for divorce, and moved into my own place. I thought it was a pretty good idea, staying in the same state as Nick's dad. But it wasn't all bliss. Working late was required, reliable babysitters, and a support system was sparse. Not to mention I felt like a target, I was cornered in the restaurant's kitchen and followed to my door from the parking lot.
By August I was back in Utah, had a three year old, worked three jobs, was living with my mother, and desperate to have my own place. These challenges have been the driving forces for me over the last 25 years.
I was desperate to get a place of my own. Mom and I fought constantly. She reminded me regularly that Sandy and Jenny were not going to babysit for me all the time, but daycare was robbing me blind, so I was determine to get myself situated.
Teri Hansen and I became friends, and decided to get a place together. That winter, we found a two bedroom place here we could work off part of our rent. It would work. Also, I started classes at the University of Utah, and I soon applied for student housing and work study.
In the spring of 1989, Nick and I moved into a one bedroom apartment in the University Village. This was a great environment to be in. I still worked two part time jobs and went to school full time. Frankly, we were on State assistance. It was the only way I could afford day care, go to school, and provide for my little family. Although challenging, Nick and I managed.
Sometime later, Mom's job was threatened, and she asked that I move in with her. She said she was afraid that she would lose her house. My co-dependent and broken mother-daughter relationship was very apparent. Hindsight, I think she would have been fine. But I did it, I gave up my apartment and moved back in. I continued to go to school, but it was difficult. Mom and I argued regularly about babysitting, house rules, and housekeeping. Mom never lost her job, and I moved to an apartment in Murray in 1990. Then in 1992, I lost my job at the University of Utah and soon withdrew from school. I never moved back home.
There's no doubt about it I was in a tail spin, burned out, and diving into a pretty dark period, full of depression. This would last for a couple of years and would include a few bad choice boyfriends, jobs, and disassociation from close family ties.
This chapter only scratches the surface of barriers built, friendships silenced, and anger festering. But with all great feats, there's more.
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