What’s the story?
Born February 28th, 1983, Veronica Renée Jefferson, I am a California native. My heritage is of Polish, Native American, and Black decent — my mother, Elizabeth is from Gdansk Poland and my father, Jeffrey was from Atlanta, GA, United States. I wish I could tell you about my parents, tell you about some happy family that I adore, and am happy to be a part of but I wasn’t fortunate enough to have that. You see, I don’t have a close relationship with my mother and unfortunately, my father passed away in 1994 before I even had any chance of getting to know him. I always wonder what he would’ve been like today if he were still alive but I’ll never know.
I have one younger brother from my mother’s side that I grew up with but we are very different people — polar opposites personality wise. Still, I say we are as close as we can be given who we’ve grown to be to present. I also have older siblings from my father’s side but I’ve never met them in person (yet) due to many situations that I believe were the fault of my mother after pushing away my father for reasons I was too young to ever know or understand. My older siblings reside in different states between Georgia and Arizona, and have different family upbringings, not to mention my father was adopted so in a way, these older siblings are also adopted without knowing much of their stories. I had only learned of these older siblings several years ago so there isn’t much information about the origins of them and my father prior to and after his adoption. However, I do communicate with one older brother on occasion, but still, what little I do know only gets me so far.
On my mother’s side of the family, I have a cousin that resides in Poland. I communicate with her via social media and I have yet to meet her. Hopefully one day I can meet her. My mom’s brother, uncle Lee has chosen not to want any relationship with me or my younger brother because of whatever toxic relationship he had with his sister that affected him. In his eyes, we are dead to him, including his sister. My Polish grandmother passed away as did my grandfather from my father’s side before I could meet them, but I at least got a one and only chance to speak with my grandfather by phone before his passing, so my family tree seems to break off at the ends leaving me to always wonder, always question. I don’t really discuss about the family I don’t really have because it’s an unfinished topic, a chapter that’s ended without an an actual end, and it’s also a hurtful reminder of what I’ve been missing, what I’ve always needed in life — family. That support system that I envy others for having and I have never felt like I fit in or belonged, so I have always been on my own, doing the best I can but it’s not the same.
Growing up, my childhood had some good memories but a lot of it was consisted of sexual, physical, mental abuse, foster care, homelessness, and narcissistic manipulation. I won’t get into the details of everything that’s happened, if you ask me about it, I might share some stories which could cause a flood of tears but this is what has affected my relationship with my mother. I’ve always felt that my mother wanted biracial children but never knew how to be a mother, one that we needed, so my brother and I missed out, and was left to fend for ourselves as a young age. My ability to trust people, especially when so many have always let me down is challenging at times and naturally, I’m guarded, cryptic, very observant and secretive by default despite what I share online. I do express my thoughts and feelings, and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m an emotional creature that has the ability to feel everything so very deeply, a little too deeply. Sometimes it scares me to feel the way I do about various things, especially if I feel like I have no control over my feelings because I’m simultaneously trying to understand them as I’m processing the flood of emotions that fill my veins.
I am independent and I am full of love despite all of the pain in my life. I am a pet mom, a genuine person with a heart of gold, but not everyone sees or understands this. On the surface, I’m told that I have an intimidating personality but it’s really a defense mechanism to protect myself because of what I’ve been through in life. I look for meaning, depth, beauty, and the good in people and everyday things, but sometimes it all comes back to disappointment, pain, the scars, the resentment, the triggers, and the loss. If you take the time to get to know me you will see what makes me every bit of me — the good, the bad, and everything in between.