The Parker Probate Story- One last step.

 It has been a while since my last confession... Oops! Wrong platform.

So much has happened since March, but I want to update on my bio dad's probate process. So, I have been a part owner of the home in Sarepta, LA since earlier this year. I own 16.6% of the home. YEP! 16.6%. And here I am thinking I would never own a home! HA! So, let's fast forward through so many things to right now. Right now, we are finally getting the paperwork together so that all four owners of the home can sign to SELL the property. SELL THE PROPERTY! I feel like I need to emphasize the importance of that phrase. 

This home was once a happy place. A place where children grew, and a family loved each other. I truly believe that the Parker family that lived there was once a family who wanted to be together. I believe that they loved each other. I believe that they tried their best. Somewhere along the way, tension started. I am sure this happens to a lot of families. My earliest memory of this home was when I was 8 years old. My bio dad, David, had dropped me off at the park in Springhill, LA with his girlfriend at the time. I played on the park equipment, and she just sat at a picnic table smoking cigarettes while drinking a coke. We were there FOR HOURS and HOURS. When the sun was setting, I thought he had left us there for good. It felt very scary, and his girlfriend was so mad, too. Finally, he came back just after dark. He pulled up in the parking area and she walked over. She was mad and they started to yell at each other. I stayed on the playground until he yelled at me to get in the truck. It was a small black Mazda, and it had those tiny fold down seats in the "extended" part of the truck. Hardly room at all, but I was exhausted and fell asleep quickly while sitting up. My head was on the back window and when the truck came to a stop, it would fall forward waking me up. We stopped at a house, and they left me in the truck. I guess they thought I was still sleeping. The headlights were on still and I looked out the windshield. There were three people standing in front of the truck- bio dad, his girlfriend, and an older woman I didn't know. I had no idea that was my grandmother. I didn't know that she had not met me before. I didn't know anything about them. Fast forward to when I was in 7th grade, and I moved in with my bio dad and his girlfriend. (Same girlfriend from earlier) We went to the grandma's house in Sarepta, but this time it was with my little sister, too. It wasn't warm and loving like a grandparent's house is supposed to feel. There was so much tension between everyone, and I just felt out of place. In all the times that I visited that house, as a child and adult, I never felt comfortable there. I never felt like family. I never felt like I belonged. 

December 2019..

I walked into that house after bio dad's body had been removed. It was awful. I didn't think I could have felt more uncomfortable in that house, but I was wrong. The condition of the home was nothing like when grandma and grandpa lived there. The smell was obviously bad since the cleaning crew had not come to clean up the aftermath, yet. Ironically though, the smell of death was fitting for this house. The family that once lived here, the family that once visited here, they were all dead to me. The connections lost forever. The love never was never really there, I suppose. Was it love for me or was it the responsibility of me that they all felt. Like a tolerance not an enjoyment. I honestly don't know. I cannot say that I have ever felt loved by anyone who lived there. 

And now..

This house, and this family has caused so much emotional, mental, and financial stress that I have felt in a very long time. Walking into the house this year with a realtor to assess the home and hopefully get it on the market, I was amazed. I couldn't believe how different it looked with no flooring, different windows, and only a hint of death leftover. Unfortunately, it still felt the same. Just one more thing that bio dad left for me to clean up. One more thing that he didn't complete his responsibility and now I have to fix it. Now I have to make sure it gets done or taken care of because no one else will. 

So many people ask me:

 "Why don't you just walk away?" 

"Why don't you give your piece to your uncle so you can be done?" 

The answer is simple. I AM NOT DAVID GLENN PARKER. I am responsible. I take care of my business, my family, and my responsibilities. I do not abandon my child or require her to clean up my messes. I AM CHANGING the course of this lineage. 

It ran in my family until it RAN INTO ME.

This is a photo of me holding a photo of my little sister sitting on the couch at the home on 137 Slack St. in Sarepta, LA. My grandmother lived in the house then. She had a picture of me and my little sister hanging on the wall. It was a Christmas photo from when I was in 10th grade. She used an alternate photo to cover my face. There were several photos like this in her home after I had run away from home. She used my little sister's photos to cover my face and/or body proving that I was a responsibility not an enjoyment. 

What is success?

 What do you determine to be "successful?" 

When do you reach the point in your life where you say, "I am a successful human!" ???

It's like I have had these pictures in my head of what 'being successful' means. It was me working so hard at a career to reach the top and be unstoppable. It was doing everything by myself because that is what I have to do. I cannot rely on others. I cannot show weakness. This is something that has been on my mind for years- even more since I had a kid. I suddenly became very aware of just how uneducated I am. I quit college because it was too hard and too much and I just wanted to be married to my first husband and not worry with it all. I didn't like it like I did high school... boy, was that a dumb decision. I push myself so hard and so much just trying to prove something. Every day feels like a disappointment. I have to mentally make myself stop to look at what I have done and where I am. Of course, that doesn't mean that I do that every day. I have to remind myself again and again that I have done something right somewhere... haven't I?

I am constantly comparing myself to those who graduated college and in the same breath lifting up others who did not. I am so afraid that one day I will regret not going back to school more than I already do. It feels me with such sadness. I am equally afraid that one day my lack of education will be something that Sophie is embarrassed of. She is a freaking genius, ya'll. Does that mean that I am not successful? Because I quit college? 

I remember my first job. Working at Ebby's Cafe in El Dorado, Arkansas when I was just 18 years old. (That is if you don't count the times we had to bus the tables for our mom when were kids... or when I babysat when I was a teenager. Of course, bio dad didn't let me have any of that money, so that doesn't count!) To think that I have gone from being a waitress to the healthcare field then later food management to retail management then again into healthcare and onto Business Development. Um... what?? I would have never thought in a million years that I would be qualified for a job like the one I have, but I totally am. I love building relationships with people and helping businesses grow. I love meeting with all kinds of people and learning from them. I love to teach others and to help wherever I can. And I get to do all of that with this job. Does that mean that I am successful? Because I got a job without a degree?

How about how others see me? Wait.. we are not supposed to care about that right? I guess it's hard for me to really believe what others say to me or about me. I have a hard time trusting people these days. Even when I know they are saying something true, I still question their position in the whole thing. I don't understand what others see as "awesome" when it is just me doing something I have always done. I just do what has to be done or needs to be done or what I know to do because I know I am the one who needs/has to do it. So, is that how I judge my success? By the words of others?

I always thought, "People like me don't own houses." I still don't know the exact reason, but I got it in my head about 2 years ago that I want to start thinking of buying a house. Just thinking of it.. that is all. Months went by before I mentioned it to a local realtor. I was 100% honest with her. My credit sucked- it always has. And I have no idea where to start and I have no money for a down payment. She introduced me to a mortgage company in town that also specializes in helping people build their credit up with a plan that is specific to their credit scores. That is exactly what I needed. In May of last year, I had one credit score (540) out of three and it was with Experian. The bank that my car loan is at only reports to Experian so at least I had that going for me! They advised me on how to get the items off my credit that were on there (medical crap) and to get a secured credit card. (So many people recommended a secured credit card. I should have listened sooner!) It wasn't always easy, but I stuck with it. Charged something and paid it off as soon as it hit my app so that it wouldn't build interest. Repeat. To finally know, less than a year later, that I actually have a chance at owning a home one day brought tears to my eyes. 

As of today, I have been officially preapproved for a home loan of $125,000. I am nowhere near ready to buy a home. I have to get the stuff with my bio dad resolved and get a down payment, but the foster child in me would have never dreamed of having a home. A real home to call her own. 

WOW...  I can buy a home for my family.

Am I successful now? 

(Picture is of me from high school- when buying a home never crossed my mind. Just having a decent home was all I thought of.)

Sister, Sister

An excerpt from my application for TLC's Long Lost Family..

"Some would say I have enough siblings to suffice. I am the fourth child of five on my paternal side, and the 7th of eight on my maternal side. I am the only child from my mother and father. 
But that doesn't stop me from wondering, 'How is she? Does she look like me? Did her adoptive parents tell her?' 
My mother gave her 8th child up for adoption in Panama City Beach, Florida in 1992. 
She birthed a baby girl and was told that the foster mom named her Elizabeth. The information from my mother is:

-Elizabeth was born in April 1992
-It was an open adoption. And she did receive photos on one or two occasions.
-the adoption agent's name was Mary Barnes (sp?)
-the agent said the adoptive mother could be my mother's sister because they favor so much.
-baby Elizabeth was born at Medical Bay hospital
-the adoptive parents lived in Pensacola at the time 

I have always thought of my sister. I used ancestry.com, and social media to try to find her. With very little information, I didn't get anywhere. My main concern is to find her parents first. I'm not looking to destroy her expectations of her family. I don't want to be the one who tells her that she is adopted. Since contact was lost at a young age, she could still think her adoptive parents are her birth parents. I want to meet them first.... "

.. they weren't able to find her either, but they did try to help. :)

To think I have been trying all that I can for the past 15 years or so to find this unknown person is sometimes so crazy to me. Like.. she could totally hate me, but I am going for it. Through the whole process, I just wanted to know that she was okay. I wanted to know that she had a good life and a good family. I always focused my search on finding her parents, because it was never my place to tell her she was adopted. I never wanted to hurt anyone. For many years, I felt like a failure. All this technology at my fingertips... and I still can't find her. I applied to be on a freaking TV show (and they contacted me back) and still couldn't find her. Where did I go wrong? 

It wasn't until 2017 that I realized all that I had LEARNED from trying to find her. Starting this journey opened up a whole new world for me. My love of Genealogy. I am sure it was always there, but it was flourished because of her. I have used all this knowledge to help so many people over the years. Some with great success and some with no solution at all. I decided to start my little side quest (insert Zelda theme here) and Genealogy Girl was born! Since then, I have been able to help even more with their genealogy, finding family members, hunting graves and returning photos/documents from estate sales/vintage stores to the original families/blood lines. It has been an amazing experience so far! For me, she is more than my blood sister. She became my inspiration for the amazing things that I do now to help others.,, and that isn't even the icing on the cake. 

As of January 1, 2022, I still had not found my sister. 15 years or so of looking, trying, crying, DNA test, searching... and ultimately, she FOUND ME!

Haley Elizabeth contacted our cousin, Dana through 23andMe on 01/01/22. I have been communicating with my biological sister for two days. TWO. DAYS!

It has been an emotional roller coaster for sure, but I have been waiting to get on this ride for a long time. 

-

Photography captured Me

Well, 2021... You certainly showed out. Not as crazy as 2020, but still. What a year this has been. I have done a ton of reflecting and accessing my life in the past year, and it has sucked..  

So, I look back on my photography and I am proud of how far I had come. All the things that I had learned- good and bad. I cannot believe the comparison of the final photo from 2006 to 2021. 15 years of progress, heartbreak, so many proud moments, and so many tears. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me to take photos of people with Santa at her event. I set the price and everything. He was there for free, but if anyone wanted a decent shot, then I was there. Cool. Totally cool. The disapproving comments of price outweighed those who were grateful that there was a photographer there. Sure $25 is a lot to some and nothing to others. Something in me clicked that day. I had reached a point where I just cannot do it anymore. 

So many tears were shed over this. Like, wow. 15 years and here I am. Nowhere near where I wanted to be by this time. Someone pointed out to me "If it was really important to you, then wouldn't you have put it first." That was hard to hear, but still accurate. I allowed so many other things to come before my photography and I still do. So, I only have myself to blame. 

That was even harder to accept. 

Whenever I talk about it, and even as I sit here and write about it, there is a huge heavy weight on the center of my chest. I truly enjoy photography so much. I love being able to offer great pictures as affordable rates, but something has to give. I have had some amazing clients over the years. Truly wonderful people who have trusted me to help document their lives. I have watched babies grow from newborns to 6-year-old kids. I have photographed baby announcements, maternity, and their first newborn pictures. I have watch families grow from 3 kids to the last kid's Senior year. All through the lens of my camera. 

I do not want that same thing to happen to my writing. I don't want to look back on 2022 and think "Man, that could have been the year I wrote a book." So, I finish this year with only a few photoshoots for 2022 and will not be scheduling anymore. It is time to take a step back and use what I have learned in my photography and apply it to my job, my work at the paper, and my book. It is time to be a published author. 

-Katie

Family is not always your Friend

 December 15, 2021

It's hard to believe that it has been a year since I received a certified letter from my uncle (on the bio dad's side) claiming that I owe him money. Umm... what? Let's take it back..

My biological father was found deceased on December 5, 2019. He is presumed to have died from a heart attack in his bathroom and was not discovered until approximately two weeks after death. (It appears he had pulled an "Elvis.") I got the call right after I had volunteered at an event in Dillard's at the mall and I quite LITERALLY hollered in the store. I have gotten so much better at using what little tact I have. But the minute that I heard "Your dad died." from my niece, Caitlin, it was like a million pounds had been lifted off my chest. No more living in fear of seeing him or dealing with his drama anymore. Done. Done. DONE! 

I called my brother, Chris, and talked with him. We had not spoken in years. Probably since I had lived in Bossier City, LA back in 2008. Our conversation was rough at the beginning, but over the past year we have gotten better about staying in touch. He sent me my uncle's information so that I could contact him as well. Chris had known already and had been trying to get in touch with me, but he had no idea where to start. I drove down to Sarepta, LA that week to my grandmother's house where my uncle and his wife had been. My aunt and uncle met me outside where we sat and talked for about an hour. They had no idea the conditions that I lived in as a teenager living with my bio dad and his wife at the time. That is how bio dad wanted it though. If anyone knew the truth about our lives, living conditions, and the things we lacked then they wouldn't believe the lies he told about me. Then he would be the bad parent instead of me being the bad runaway kid. Grandma's house was so full of stuff. Just stuff. All the things that people collect over the years that make up a life and then another kind of life once your spouse passes on. The smell was horrific. I had never smelled anything like that in my life. 

The living room where I spent several Christmas holidays, Thanksgiving Days, and Easter Sundays sitting on the floor playing with my little sister was covered in trash bags, old newspapers, boxes and years of neglect. My grandmother's old furniture was still in the same spot it always had been, and the radio/record player had not been moved in decades, I am sure. The pictures on the wall were in the same place as always but the pictures of bio dad were updated to his most recent ex-wife. The pictures of me and my little sister were still up, too. The spot where my face was had a small picture of my little sister over it. I guess cutting me out of the picture all together was too far. <shrug> 

My aunt and uncle offered to let me go in bio dad's room to "get a few things." I couldn't think of anything in particular that I wanted at the time, because I didn't know bio dad. But I told myself that I would get a few things for my little sister and mail them to her. It was crammed full of so much stuff. Most of it was so packed together it was hard to tell what legitimate belongings was, junk, or just trash. My aunt was in there the whole time. I found an old family album and we looked through it together. Everything I looked at, she looked over before putting it in a "Katie" pile. She didn't leave the room as long as I was in there until my uncle came back. It was rather odd to have them hover, but I didn't truly know them. They equally didn't know me either. After about 15-20 minutes in the room, my aunt said "You think you got enough stuff? We need to leave to pay the water bill." I looked up kind of stunned at the way she approached that question. I said "Sure." and left with a bag and a few photos to send to Summer. On the way out the door, I saw a navy-colored pillow that had "PEPAW" monogrammed on it sitting on the back of the couch. "I made that pillow for grandpa when I was in high school home economics!" I said. Without hesitation she said, "You can have it!"

The many details of the following year were stressful, expensive, unanswered, and heartbreaking. Then on December 15, 2020, I got a certified letter in the mail. Detailing the expenses that had accrued on the home and how the ownership of the home broke down. I had no idea that Louisiana Law saw me as one of the heirs to bio dad's part of grandma's home. My uncle made it clear when I went down there that he got bio dad's part of the home because grandma set it up that way. I didn't know any different, so I didn't question it. Anyway, there I was with a letter (which I originally thought he was suing me- he wasn't) that says I am responsible for reimbursing him the money he has spent on the home. Of course, he lists several on this letter that he feels are responsible, how much they should each pay and by when it should be paid. 

I have had to endure the process, appointments, time, money and heart ache of one failed attorney, and now a successful one, my little sister calling me a liar through it all, and the unknown of where it all will go. Here I am, a year later and it still isn't resolved. Once I found the correct attorney in Louisiana, the process has been much smoother. We are close to $3000 paid out due to my bio dad's inability to think of anyone but himself. (A combined price of attorney fees, gas, filing fees, and more) At the end of it all, I push myself to keep up the momentum. I won't let this stop. I won't stop until it is all over and done. I don't want any of this to EVER come back on my daughter in the future, so I am pushing for a solution no matter how long it takes. 

 After following the succession/probate laws of Louisiana, I now own 16.66% of my grandmother's home in Sarepta, LA. I am responsible for ensuring that my portion is sold to the highest bidder or pay the taxes and others that are required of a homeowner in Louisiana. I never thought I would own a home, but here I am being an owner and junk! 

So here I am. One year after I got the letter that started the process that brought me to where I am today. The letter that set many great things in motion. Of all the days of the year, I will now be grateful for December 15th. It is no longer bio dad's birthday. It is now the day that he finally gave me something that has meaning- the memory of why I will always be a better person and a better parent to my daughter than he ever was to me. 

Wither Up

I have been reading a book titled ‘The Huntress’ by Kate Quinn. The setting is during the 2nd World War. It flips between two main people- one during the war and the other during a time after the war. Anyways, the time was so different then. Families had a shop that was the family business and everyone worked there when they got old enough to do so. Then the shop passed down from generation to generation. That’s how it was. The father was a business man whose son would one day walk in his footsteps. Women stayed home to chase babies and keep house before the war… and even after the war was over. The women who survived just had to go right back to housekeeping. It was a different time. The young character in the book said ‘All dreams wither up in the glaring light of real life.’ 

Wow.. that is so profound. 

I remember being in high school. I kept telling myself that was going to be big someday. When I turned 18, I would finally have the strength to walk out David’s door and never look back. I was going to New York, ya’ll! I was going to change my name and become a photojournalist. I would hitch hike there, if I had to. ‘Couldn’t be treated worse than I have my whole life.” I would tell myself. Whatever it took to get away. 

That’s not how it was. I ran away, graduated early, and got out of town. Didn’t go far though; El Dorado, AR. I remember sitting in my mom’s house, months later, feeling disappointed. How I hadn’t fulfilled my dream. How I hadn’t went to New York. There I was living with my mom and working because that is what you gotta do. There it was- the realization that life had swallowed up my dream. It took a while to get over, but I did. (Turns out- not a fan of New York. LOL)

Sometimes this is still true, for me. The things you always want to do. Or the things you wish you had time for… BOOM! Life is just standing there like ‘HELLO! You’ve got no time. You have responsibilities. Turn around and go back to start. Do not pass GO! Do not collect $200.’ Oh wait.. that’s Monopoly, not The Game of Life. :D

So I just grab onto what I can and let go of most everything else. Life will change your focus. It will bring you everything and nothing. It will suck and be great. It goes up & down and back again. Hold on tight.

Leader. Leader. Pumpkin Eater.

 I did it again.. Took forever to write another one. You know how they say "If it is important to you, then you will make time for it?" I don't necessarily agree with that. There are a lot of things that I would love to do, but there just isn't the time. So, FOOEY on that! Well, anyways. I have had something on my mind for a while to write about. Probably not the easiest thing for me to talk about but I gotta get it out there. 

Leadership. 

What is it? I have struggled with the meaning of this word for longer than anyone should. I never looked at myself as a leader or even considered myself to have leadership qualities for a long time. I used to work for a company that was super big into leadership training. I think that is when I first learned that *maybe* I have leadership qualities. I would toy around with that idea in my head off and on. Something would always come up that would change my mind. "You have that quality!"    "Oh, no. Never mind. You are not like that." It has just been a constant back and forth to this day with what the heck a leader is! Does anyone really know? ughhh.

I remember doing an event and it going so well. Of course, there are always hiccups to any event but this one was so good! I just knew that me and my team would get so much praise for a job well done! That is what a good leader does for their team. They take the moments to celebrate success, no matter how small. Instead we were met with "See how you were successful? I did that for you. I set you up to be successful." Umm.. come again? There were a lot of moments that made me feel less empowered, less confident, and not like leadership material at all. Then to hear that was devastating to my soul. But then something clicked, and I realized that I had heard that phrase before. "You got those As because of me. I am the one that did that." That is when I knew that the "leadership" I was under was not for me. I believe that people deserve to receive the credit that they worked for and not in a watered down form. 

Give. The. Damn. Credit. 

I am NOT perfect by any means. Like.. holy crap- sometimes the worst. I have to physically tell myself to not be petty sometimes. LOL. Of course, NO ONE is perfect. I know that, but it seems that a "leader" should at least be decent and willing to try to be better. I think I have that. I am an OK person who tries to do good, but messes up all the time. Like.. A LOT. Seriously working on my mental health, ya'll. Anyways, here is my question. If someone steals money, while claiming to be a leader in the community; a well known 'advocate'; in all the magazines.. is that person still a leader? What if they have made a quiet vow to 'change' and 'do good.' Does that reverse what they did? Do they get a second chance? I struggle with this. I see people like this lifted up in the community or beaming from ear to ear in a 'leadership' group or role and I think to myself, "I am totally not a leader." 

What if someone goes out of their way to be mean or cruel? Like unprovoked just plain mean. And said person is in all the 'leadership' groups and teaches it too! Is that was a leader does? Make you feel small, and meek so that you will want to be better? Oh wait.. is that a challenge to help you "grow." Love that one. "Well, I am doing this to challenge you. I am doing this to help you grow." 

Ummm.... No, thanks. 

So, here I am. Unable to understand the concept of a leader or leadership qualities. I couldn't even sit through a short 1 hour open discussion leadership class without crying because I am cray cray. I don't talk about it a lot because it comes from a misunderstood place for me. This whole leadership thing is hard, ya'll! And why do I care so much? I HAVE NO IDEA! But here it is, weighing on my mind. 

Thanks, ya'll.