Then, it got worse. He started getting more and public about dating other women, even though everyone knew we were married. For the first time, I felt as angry with him as I did at the other women. Things between us started to completely fall apart. I wondered what had happened to that sweet, funny guy I’d fallen in love with years before. He’d changed, and I finally realized that I had, too. I knew it was time to stop crying, to stop beating myself up about why he wasn’t interested in me anymore and to stop hating the women he chose to be with.
I knew it was over. I knew I finally had to let him go.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Letting go of Dream meant letting go of my girlhood dream that the three of us would be afamily--him, me and our daughter.
As hard as it was, it was the best thing I could have done. It took packing up and leaving New Orleans and all the people there who knew me as “Dream’s baby mama” or “Dream’s wife”, and setting off on my own to create a new life in a strange city for me to really leave it all behind me. It was worth it.
The Mistake I Made That You Shouldn’t
Holding on to a dead relationship is always a big mistake. I should have let go a long, long time before I actually did.
Looking back, I know I should have moved on after the first broken engagement. Or even sooner, when Dream cheated on me the first time and didn’t seem interested in really trying to make any real commitment to me. At that time, I just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, get over him. It made me act foolish, begging him to love me, begging him to be a family. That’s what I wanted, but it’s clear to me now that it wasn’t whathe wanted. The signs were everywhere. God dropped me hints all the time in the forms of those other girls, in the form of my troubled heart, in the feeling that I needed to do something for myself and by myself, but I refused to take those hints seriously until there was just nothing left.
It wasn’t until after the marriage failed that I finally got over it. When I had to pick up and leave New Orleans, I started to get over him. When I had stand on my own two feet somewhere new where no one knew anything about me, I finally felt like I was over Dream. Moving to Atlanta was the best thing that ever happened to me. I finally grew up, and by growing up, I think I became a better mother and a better friend.
Toya’s Priceless Gem: When a relationship is dead, it’s dead and no amount of wishing will bring it back. The best thing you can do for yourself is move on, both emotionally and physically. Doing something new will help you forget the past and introduce you to some fresh experiences, and some different kinds of people.
Forgiving My Dad
After I tried to live with my father, and his then-wife put me out, I didn’t have much to do with him for many years. In addition to that whole mess, I had other reasons to be angry with him.
Over the years, he had 19 kids with about ten different women. I felt like he’d been more interested in chasing women than in getting to know any of us. It was a choice I didn’t respect. I’d even taken on the responsibility of raising one of my little brothers when I was seventeen and he was nine. Our mom couldn’t take care of him, and my father couldn’t either, so he’s had a room with me in every home I’ve ever had. I’ve been the one to make sure he went to school and I’ve tried to encourage him in every way I could. He’s eighteen now, and will make his own choices, but the point is, my father wasn’t there for me or for him.
I have so many half-brothers and sisters out there that I don’t even know them all. If I went back to New Orleans and started dating, I could be dating one of my own siblings and not even know it! I just feel that’s wrong. I feel like my dad should have done more to get us all together at least. I feel like we shouldknow each other, if we’re family.
The biggest reason for my anger towards him is the impact he had on my mother’s life. He was the person who introduced her to crack cocaine. If he’d never encouraged her to try it, I can’t help but believe that her life, and mine, would have been completely different. Over the years, I’ve held a lot of anger against him for that one action, until finally I learned to accept that, “it was what it was, and it is what it is”. All my anger with him and that situation ever did was hurtme, leaving me stuck in the past.
My dad and I finally talked it through. We did some of it onTiny and Toya and talked about it some more when there weren’t any cameras watching us. I just had to tell him, “this wasn’t cool” and “that really hurt me.”
He listened and he apologized. He didn’t have a lot to say about what happened, but he understood why I was upset. For me, it was just about saying it all one time, right out loud and right to his face, before letting the whole thing go. I needed to let go of the past and my ideas about what he should have done and what he shouldn’t have done, and try to accept that he had no way of knowing that things would turn out the way they did. He had no way of knowing that what he thought would be just an experiment for my mother would turn out being a life-long addiction.
I also had to let go of my expectations for what I kind of father I thought he “should” be or what I thought he “should” be doing right now. I can’t tell him he should be a different person than he is. No one has that right. It doesn’t matter what I think. He makes his own choices and nothing I say will change that. I’ve had to accept him for who he is and hope that he’ll be able to be a better grandfather than he was a father.
The Mistake I Made That You Shouldn’t
I spent a lot of years thinking that I could change people into what I thought they should be or get them to act the way I wanted them to act. This is just wrong.
I’m not saying that you have to be cool with everything the other person does. You don’t. You might even have to lay down some hard rules and limits on when and how the person is around you. At other times, you may have to say “no” and just walk away until the situation changes or the person makes better choices. That’s not the same thing as trying to change them, judging them or being mad because they’re not who you want them to be.
People aren’t perfect, and trying to make them act the way you want them to act just drives a wedge between them and you. My father and I might have had a better relationship if I had been able to see him for who he was, accept what he couldn’t be for me, and move on without anger.
Toya’s Priceless Gem: Don’t waste energy and time thinking you can change people. The only person you can change is yourself.
Forgiving My Mom
If you’ve seen my show, you know that my mom and I are still working hard on our relationship. My mom is still battling with her addiction, and it’s important for me to support her in that effort. Addicts are very fragile and it doesn’t help her any for me to beat her up for failing me when I was younger.
I’m working hard to let all of that go, just as I worked to let my father and Dream go, so we can all move forward.
Still, it’s hard.
It’s hard because every day that I’m with my own daughter, I wish for what might have been. I still want my mother in my life and I still want her in her granddaughter’s life. I’m proud of her when she’s on the right track and getting help, but I have to be strict and cut her out when she’s not.
When she first got out of jail 12 years ago, all six of her kids were in different homes, most of them unhappy, and most of them doing things they shouldn’t have been doing and getting in trouble. I couldn’t understand it. Why wasn’t that enough for her to want to get herself together?
The answer hurt. At that time she loved drugs more than us. We weren’t enough to help her stare drugs in the face and say “no.” It made me sad. It made me start wishing again, wishing things could be different. As long as I had Aunt Edwina, I had someone who stood in the place of a mother for me and I was able to go on without really taking the time to find out more about my mother and her life.
Until Auntie Edwina died, I didn’t know about the things that had caused my mother to use drugs. I didn’t know that she was escaping the tr
auma of being raped. I didn’t know she was avoiding her own pain. I was just embarrassed about her and, for the most part, tried not to have much dealings with her.
Every now and then, just like when I was ten and I started to visit her apartment, I’d try to connect with her. Once, when Reginae was a tiny baby and I was between places to stay, I tried to live with her.
She was in the process of getting off drugs, so I thought she wanted to be a good mom and grandmother. I hoped it would a new start for us, so we got a house and Dream helped us furnish it.
The house was designed shotgun-style--one floor with rooms going in a straight line from the front of the house to the kitchen at the back. My mother’s room was near the living room, and mine was near the kitchen. Within days of us moving in, it started. There were men in the house, cooking and smoking. I was scared to death that something was going to happen to me or to Reginae. A month later, I left. It hurt me to my heart to leave because I really wanted for it all to work. I had really hoped that things had changed for my mom and me. She was older and wiser, and I had a new baby to take care of. I needed her. I wanted that mother-daughter relationship I had dreamed of for both myself and for my little girl.
Realizing that, once again, it wasn’t going to happen, hurt me to my heart. However, I knew I couldn’t stay. Even if I was willing to put myself in that situation, I couldn’t expose my daughter to it. I just couldn’t do it. I went back to stay with Dream’s mom and eventually, when I finished school, got my own place.
I avoided my mom for a long time after that. When Aunt Edwina died, I really began to realize how much I needed her in my life.
It was 2005 and I had just moved to Atlanta when Aunt Edwina passed. She’d been sick for a long time and in the hospital for weeks. I had gone back to New Orleans to visit and be near her and to pray for her recovery. She’d been getting a little better, but then took a turn for the worse. Finally, we all prayed and then they disconnected the machines that had been helping her to breathe, and essentially to live. She died.
I was heartsick over her loss. She was a huge part of my life, and I just couldn’t stand it. Through all the turbulence and craziness, Aunt Edwina had always been there. She’d never judged me or called me names. She was always sweet, encouraging and gentle. She was the first to call me at midnight on my birthday. She was the one who prayed with me when times were so hard I didn’t think I could make it.
She always loved me exactly like she did when I was a very little girl and she and Uncle Frank said, “We’re gonna take that pretty little baby and bring her up safe, here with us.”
At the funeral, I just lost it. She looked beautiful and at peace laying in the casket and it was just too much for me. I’m not one for funerals and I’d never touched a dead person before in my life, but I hugged and kissed her body. I just couldn’t let her go without hugging her goodbye. She was my angel. I know she’s still watching over me. I feel it. I’ll see her again in heaven.
I returned to Atlanta, heartbroken and devastated. With Aunt Edwina gone, I felt like there was a hole in the foundation of my life. Dream and I were through. I’d moved to Atlanta where I didn’t know a soul. Everything in my life was turned upside down. You know that song about “feeling like a motherless child”? That was me. In fact, I had never felt so “motherless” in my life.
I realized I needed to really “know” my own mother. I needed to understand her. I needed to understand what had driven her to drugs. I needed to try to find a way to bring some healing and peace to my relationship with her. I needed to stop avoiding her and accept her for who she was. I finally admitted to myself the truth that I’d been running from most of my life--I loved my mother because she was my mother. I wanted her in my life and in my daughter’s life. There would always be a hole in me where she was supposed to be until I found a way to embrace her for who she was, without condoning her mistakes.
We have struggled, and continue to struggle, to build that relationship. It’s been hard on us both. We’ve had some really great moments, and some real low points. In a strange way, I’ve ended up teaching her how behave like a mother. I’ve set limits for her, just like I do for Reginae.
She knows that I know when she’s high. She knows I won’t deal with that. She knows I won’t let her bring random people to my house. She knows I won’t let her do whatever she wants to do in my home. She’s used to being down with the youngsters and partying and having a loud, good time.
I don’t live like that, and when it gets out of hand, I’ll put her and her friends right out of my house. It’s crazy that I’m young, but I treat her like the kid. She acts like she doesn’t know any better.
I’m realizing that I have to accept her for who she is, but I won’t make the mistake of condoning drug use in my home. I can love my mother and hate drugs, and that’s exactly what I’ve done and plan to continue doing.
Toya’s Priceless Gem: You’re nothing without your family. Building good relationships with family members, especially your mother and father, is important. Never give up control of your environment or your safety. People who love you have to respect your space and the limits you put on who’s doing what around you.
DRUGS AND ALCOHOL
Most of us try drugs and alcohol because we're with people who are doing it. They make drinking and getting high look cool, fun, and the thing to do. That’s the only reason I’ve ever tried any drug at all, simply because everyone else was doing it. It was a dumb reason and the experience was a disaster. I’ll never do anything that stupid again, regardless of who else is doing it. It’s just not worth it.
I was reluctant about trying any kind of drug. I knew I’d never get anywhere near cocaine or crack, especially knowing how quickly my mother had gotten hooked on it. I know some people would have said, “Well, that’s her. That’s not going to happen to me.” However, I was scared. My mother probably thought the same thing herself when she tried it. I’m sure she never would have touched that pipe if she had any idea what it would mean for her future. I’m sure my father never would have brought that stuff in the house if he’d known.
That’s just it--you don’t know. You don’t know if you’ll be able to use it sometimes and be fine. You don’t know if you’ll use it once and love it so much you become an addict. You don’t know if that stuff you’re sipping, or popping or smoking or needling will kill you. You just don’t know.
Fear of ending up like Mom kept me from taking chances with any drug or with alcohol, but I did experiment. Once.
Me and XTC
Everybody was doing it.
I mean everybody.
There were a few years there where it seemed like everywhere you went, people were popping Ecstasy (or XTC or X).
I guess X is still pretty popular, but there are so many other things people mess themselves up with, like pills, steroids, and marijuana. When you go out, it’s like those and other things are the things to do.
I was still in high school and me and some of my friends had gone to a Halloween party at someone’s house. We were all just hanging out and chilling. Everyone was popping X, talking about how good, peaceful and happy it made them feel. I figured “why not?” I wanted to feel good, peaceful and happy, too. I wanted to be able say that I’d done XTC and it was great. I didn’t want to be the only baby in the room, too scared to try it when everyone else was getting high. It looked to me like everyone else who tried it was having fun. I wanted to have fun, too.
I already knew my tolerance for drugs and alcohol was really low. When I tried pain pills for a tooth ache I would feel really high and when I tried to drink, it seemed like only one would really affect me. Two drinks and I felt like I needed to go to sleep. Knowing that I could barely handle alcohol, I should have known better than to even try anything harder, but I didn’t.
I tried it anyway and about an hour later, I was hallucinating. I know most people feel relaxed and extremely happy and good on ecstasy, but it got me in the opposite way.
I started freaking out. I was sure someone was after me, wanting to hurt me or rape me. I got so upset and out of control, my friends had to leave the party to take me home.
As bad luck would have it, we got stopped by the cops on the way to the house. I was laying with my head on someone’s lap, I don’t remember whose it was anymore, and they were doing their best to keep me from screaming, shaking and acting like I was crazy. If I’d jumped up and done that while the police were talking to the driver, the officers would have known that I was high and the whole group would have been in trouble.
I didn’t jump up and my friends didn’t get in any trouble. We made it to the house without anything else happening, and by then I felt a little calmer. I was done hallucinating and now I wanted to talk.
I talked and talked. I told all my business, and things I would normally never tell came spilling out of me. I had gotten a name tattooed on my thigh and I was telling all the details of why I did it, who did it, when and how much. I kept talking and talking until everyone was tired of listening to me.
Then I couldn’t sleep. I was up all night and all the next day. Finally, I was so tired I was just lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t focus enough to do anything.
It was a horrible experience. I know I’ll never do anything like that again. Never. Ever. Ever.
Fortunately, I was with people I knew when it happened and they tried to help me. I would never even think of trying something like that, something that takes you out of your mind, with people I don’t know well. Drugs and alcohol make you very vulnerable, and you wouldn’t want to be experimenting with something like that in a place that’s unfamiliar or without good friends around who care about you in case something goes really really wrong. Lots of girls have gotten into bad situations when they got too drunk or too high around men they didn’t know well.
Priceless Inspirations Page 7