TAKE A LITTLE DRIVE

I was driving back home from a doctor’s appointment this morning. I swung by McDonald’s for a cheap breakfast before heading home to shower and get ready for work. I was driving down a back road watching the light drizzle pitter patter on the windshield.  My windows rolled down,  as I have no air and even though it is raining it is still Summer. I felt a  moment of peace with the light breeze blowing through my hair, the overcast day making it just right to be outside, enjoying my drive when it hit me.

Suddenly a memory wafted through the car, just as the breeze had and a smile escaped me. I was once told that I would never be able to get behind the wheel of a car, due to my permanent disability. That was when I was 13 years old, a disability caused by repeated abuse from my mother. I was crushed heartbroken even, not to mention it is one of those things a 13-year-old isn’t even contemplating yet, and here I was being told to never even try to learn to drive. Yet, here I was this morning driving, one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes the weather is just right, the music lilting through the speaker is just right, and you just know this is as good as life can get.

This got me thinking of all the things I have been told I would never be able to do.  At one time in my life, I was pissed. Pissed that I had not even been able to make my mark on the world and here I was being told you can’t! For years this anger this, disability became my crutch. I found it was easier to give up than to try. However, this morning I was reminded that I have beat every odd set before me. Starting with my birth. I was reminded throughout all the things I was told I would never do by doctor’s, school counselors, my mother. That I have proven all of them wrong. Anything from being happily married, to holding a job, to something as simple as driving a car. I have beat all the odds stacked against me, and it makes me smile. No longer one of satisfaction in proving these people wrong, but a smile of gratification that I did not let them win.

In just over a month I will be 41, and while I started blogging just over 2 years ago, and a book on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and another one just finished. I still have people in my life that don’t consider me a writer. Or think I do this for fun. Yes, it is true writing is fun for me but it is not a hobby. It is the thing that brings me peace. It is the thing that makes me smile in the wake of all the negativity because I know I have defeated all odds in the past and I will defeat the odds now. I spent years letting others were me down, I spent years thinking I am not good enough so why bother. I was reminded this morning that even with me letting all the naysayers win the battle, eventually I won the war with myself and proved them wrong. That is still true as I will win this war too and prove all of them wrong once again. Nothing can stop me now, but me!

INNOCENCE LOST

“I JUST FINISHED ONE NOVEL AND AM HOPING TO HAVE IT TO A PUBLISHER BY THE END OF THE YEAR. I TOOK A LITTLE BREAK AND NOW THIS IS ONE OF MANY OF MY NEXT NOVELS TO COME. I WELCOME ALL FEEDBACK AND ANY POINTERS ON WHO TO GO TO TO GET MY MEMOIR PUBLISHED THANK YOU AND ENJOY THE BEGINNINGS OF INNOCENCE LOST!”

It was a brisk October day when he walked into my life, in Church no less. There was never any excitement in my little town. It was one of those towns where everyone knew everyone. How annoying is it that? Every little thing you do is known throughout the whole town. Cotton fields as far as the eye could see on either end, our little town was just a pit stop on the way to the big city. No one ever came here that was important, and I am sure nobody ever remembered the town name as they drove on through to their next destination.

I was Seventeen and due to having a psychotic mother, was required to bring home no less than a B in school, so of course, I was a nobody. I was a 17-year-old semi-straight A student with barely any friends, and poor to boot. I always thought if I stayed invisible no one can hurt me, no one would expect anything from me, that way no one would depend on me. I liked it that way, I learned very early on that the only person I could count on was me and me alone, that friend and friendship were just a word.

You had to earn the right to be called a friend! No one I knew fit the bill, save for one person. I was probably the only virgin in town at this rate. As true to small town’s reputation’s over half if not all the girls in my class were either pregnant or about to be.

That day everything changed, I still recall the way his bomber jacket smelled of leather and Cool Water. I loved the way it felt against my cheek when he kissed me. Every time I smell leather now I am transformed back to that day. The day he walked into my life.

It was an overcast October day, in the south, it was about as cold as it was going to get. With my light sweater and my long pink and gray dress, I looked the picture of innocence. The stupid dress even had a big pink rose right in the front. Since puberty was taking its sweet time, I still had no breasts to speak of, so the giant pink rose not only screamed “Virgin” but looked ridiculous on my chest.

I went to a Pentecostal Church so there was always a lot going on inside that place. It was the only active building in a section of buildings that once upon a time had been a small strip mall. I still to this day, do not know what those building used to be. It was set about a hundred feet from the railroad tracks. I used to think we only had Church so loud to drown out the train that passed almost every time Church was in session.

The Choir was in full swing and my best friend, my only friend (who was at least 15 years my Senior) was singing in the Choir. The small Church had a Podium, a couple of Instruments, and a tambourine, which rounded out everything on the tiny stage. The rest of the room was filled with glaring white pews about 12 in all, they smelled of old wood and fresh paint. There was a tiny Alter shoved between the first set of pews and the Podium.

It was weird because Annie and I had met in Church just in the last few months. Yes, there was an age difference and she even had a child already, but we just clicked. She had recently married the Preacher’s eldest son and even though he was a few years younger than her they fit together perfectly.

I stayed at her place a lot on the weekends due to the crazy mom syndrome I was saddled with. Not only was she physically and emotionally abusive. She had everyone that met her thinking she was the sweetest, nicest, thing ever. Coming to a breaking point, I revealed some of the craziness that I went through at home to Annie. Not only did she give me a shoulder to cry on, but she believed me!  She saw through the mask my mother put on for everyone else. She was a friend when I needed one the most, and most deserving of the word, friend.

I was watching and listening to the song she was singing when suddenly I smelled the overpowering scent of leather. I turned in my seat and there, he, was! The man that would soon change me forever! The man that would awaken every desire and fantasy I have ever had since then. He sat in the back row on the other side of the room from me. Suddenly I had these odd sensations running through my body. Was this some kind of a joke, the hottest man I had ever seen (not counting on tv) was in my nothing town, in my nothing Church, sitting there for all the world like he belonged. You know that game they used to play on Sesame Street “One of these things doesn’t belong here”. Well, he definitely did not belong.

He was all leather and all male he was the perfect description of the proverbial bad boy. As I sat there concentrating only on my breathing I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him behind my hand. With dark brown hair and even darker eyes, he was stunning! How could everyone here just keep on singing like there was nothing going on? As if a beautiful God hadn’t just come in and graced us with his presence. I felt flushed like I was on display like I was naked and exposed. I rubbed my now sweaty palms down my dress but that just smeared sweaty streaks down the front of it. This must be where the saying “hot and bothered” comes from because I was hot and defiantly bothered.

I couldn’t concentrate, I became light headed and more aware of my body than I think I had ever been in my entire life. I became paranoid as if his stare were boring into the back of my skull. I felt a twinge of guilt for having such dastardly emotions while sitting in the house of God. Yet,  the guilt quickly dissipated in the wake of such primal urges.  I couldn’t help it I was flushed and all I wanted to do was sink into the pew and disappear. I smiled at my friend as the song ended and clapped when everyone else clapped but my mind was now churning, lost to me, thinking only of the handsome stranger in the back row. I knew something was about to change for me. Hell, even my body could feel it.

 

This was it the moment that would change me forever, the moment of my sexual awakening and this was only the beginning…

FANTASY

We all have fantasies right?

Some more than others, I heard once that, fantasy is nothing more than an awake dream. I have fantasies all the time, mostly filthy ones, and they are harmless. We can’t help when it, when we dream what we dream and I think the same goes for our fantasies. Is it our unconscious mind trying to bring forth a part of us that doesn’t exist, yet? Or is it just a silly wish that we know will never come true? For instance, in my dreams and fantasy I am kind of a slut but in real life, I am a loving devoted wife and have been for the past sixteen years. I would never do anything to ruin my relationship but sometimes I fantasize about another life another me. One that is not bogged down with the wifely, and motherly duties I have. Is it some deep-seated craving or is it just a fantasy.

I think as humans we all wonder “is the grass really greener on the other side?” For most of us we go through life content wondering here or there but never truly acting on it. While others jump from grass to grass searching, hoping for that sweet green field. That one that is going to change them forever. I know because I too was once, one of those people, and I know until you are content with yourself. You will never find those sweet grasses.

For me just like reading a book, or dreaming, or even writing a book, I am a very visual person so my fantasies, tend to take on a life of their own. I just did a short story on my blog about a serial killer and his first kill. I could actually see the feather falling down,  the blood on his clothes, and the corpse lying at his feet. I am told that is what makes me a good writer! To be able to visualize everything so clearly. Maybe that is true, I don’t know but when I am in a fantasy I am all in. I can feel the waves of the ocean lapping at my feet, I can smell the salty air, I can see the moon mirroring himself off the sea smiling down upon me, and it is amazing. Maybe my fantasies help me to write better or maybe it is vice versa, but all I know as long as I can fantasize about whatever I want, I will write about them as well. The possibilities are endless…

 

What is your fantasy?

 

FRACTURED

As  I sit here staring at the moonlight, I feel empty. What once gave me pleasure now just hangs there like a wasted ornament on a lifeless tree.

I rise broken and frayed I stumble toward its healing power. Yet he and I both know he can’t fix this thing that is broken inside of me.

I can still hear the first crack of my mind as it continues to echo and splinter out. The sound like so many bones breaking under pressure and I think to myself “am I already dead?”

My soul weeps for my heart as it shatters along with what’s left of my mind and I find that the light has gone out and I am once again alone, in the darkness.

My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, tears that I have cried a thousand times, and I wonder much like the bear in the woods can your mind really break if no one is there to witness it?

I can hear the time slowly ticking down like that of a bomb counting down to my extinction, as the fear that I am losing my mind overtakes me.

An agonizing, painful, death if there ever was one. To watch and wait with bated breath as your mind slowly gives way, to oblivion.

I sit here on my playground of insanity with its lifeless trees with their lifeless leaves. All the color has been leached out of them and me I am alone amidst the desolation.

After all these years, and all these times I have fought and won, I laugh at the thought that this, this is what will finally break me. This is what will finally win the war I wage daily.

Once the question “how much more can one person possibly take?'” began to circle my brain I knew it was only a matter of time before my mind began to break.

The earth began to quake, I began to shake, the rubber band that was holding the pieces of my mind finally snapped with a crispness somehow only I could hear.

Trapped in the recesses of my own mind, I seek solace where there is none, I seek peace in a never-ending war, I seek quiet in the midst of a raging storm. There is none.

There is nothing only me, sitting here with my fractured mind, on a moonless, colorless night.

 

 

 

 

 

MAKE ME SMILE?

Here lately I have felt, blah! Just blah, A few weeks ago I went through some traumatic events as you all should know if you have been reading my blog (hint! hint!) I have faced and overcome and now I just feel empty. Maybe it is a sort of depression, I mean I don’t want to work, I don’t want to clean my house, hell it has been a struggle just spending time with my kids, or write. Yet I still shore myself up and just do it. Something my boss said in our last meeting over my quality of calls I take has been stuck in my head for days now, and after a conversation, I had with my bestie this morning makes me wonder even more. Am I more broken than I think I am? He said that I was very transactional on the phone no emotion or anything, and it got me thinking about the past.

I have a past filled with stuff you only see on tv, (especially Lifetime), it is not something easily talked about as it is an emotional landmine. My friend has been through much the same stuff I have and as I told her this morning we should praise God every day we can get through without becoming a stereotype. You know those stories you hear about the young girl selling herself to fill a void in her life or the young girl that was found dead in an alley from an overdose all to fill some void in her life, or being homeless and starving because the alternative was just too much to bear. (Do you see a theme here?)

Every day that we can go out into the world and function like everyone else is a blessing. Those we love may not get it and that is okay because I wouldn’t wish anyone the amount of pain I have endured in my lifetime. I just consider us warriors, strong enough to overcome our past and not be ruled by it. Our strength is what makes us beautiful. It’s what drives us to be better, better for our children, better for our significant others, better for ourselves. I did a blog recently on strength and the question still remains what can make me so strong willed and others not? All I know is that by the grace of God I am alive and well today, and I am grateful for that every day!

I have been told on numerous occasions let the past go! Forgive and forget! That my friend is easier said that done. As anyone who has ever been through a horrible trauma can attest. Yet, what these people don’t understand is there is a difference between letting go and forgetting. I have completely forgiven but I can never forget. For people like my friend and I that have suffered abuse after abuse after abuse as a child will never be able to forget that we were once deemed as nothing of consequence. She said something interesting to me today. It was “what we go through in our childhood shapes who and what we become.” If this is true I have come a long way since then and I am all the better despite it. She is right the scars we collect in our youth are ones we carry close to us, is it so that we do remember and strive to not be like that or is it simply a blanket of comfort that we hold on to?

Back to my boss saying my calls were great except for the whole emotional thing. He said I was very transactional on the calls. I realize more and more as I get older that my past has indeed shaped who and what I am. The one thing in my life I wish I could change is that I have no emotions when it comes to certain things. I don’t cry, EVER! Except when I am watching Lifetime of course! I shed a tear here or there but not all out tears. I am uncomfortable around people when they talk about weddings, or funerals, or even that someone I know gave birth. The minute it seems like something real and emotional I shut down. Maybe it has become a self-preservation thing, or maybe my emotional scars keep me from feeling things I should. Either way, it is off-putting to most people but what can you do? If this is the most horrific thing I have from my past then I think I can live with that. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more than blah, and smile again, but for now, I am enjoying the peacefulness of my favorite spot in the yard as I watch the sun go down.

ALL OF ME

All of Me
What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You’ve got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down
What’s going on in that beautiful mind
I’m on your magical mystery ride
And I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me, but I’ll be alright
My head’s under water
But I’m breathing fine
You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind
‘Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I’ll give my all to you
You’re my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I’m winning
‘Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you, oh oh
How many times do I have to tell you
Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too
The world
     I never really listened to this song before and today I listened to it. Between the lyrics and the tone of the music, it is in a word beautiful. We all go through life looking for this, this one person out there that accepts us as we are and loves all of us with all of them. It is something some of us spend a lifetime searching for, yet most of us never find. It is a select few that seem to find their perfect match. Their one true love, that one person you can’t breathe without them. It reminds me of the fairy tale I saw as love when I was a child. That love was some kind of perfect entity all on it’s own. That nothing could break a couple if they were truly in love.
   However for some it I have found it is hard to hold on to that lightening in a bottle and let the flame go out due to one reason or another. They let life get in the way and that is a shame, because the fairy tale isn’t really a fairy tale. If you find that one true person that knows your heart, that one person that see and “love all your curves and edges”, that  “all your perfect imperfections” then you should hold on tight and never let them go. The one that thinks you are their end and their beginning even when they lose their winning because you are by their side. It is a beautiful thing, to be that person they need.
   I have found that, and I refuse to let go. After a lifetime of frogs, I have found my prince. We have been together for many years now and after all the graying of hair, the weight gain, the wrinkles he still looks at me as if I am that girl that walked toward him down the aisle in the fairy tale wedding gown. I am grateful for that. We have weathered many storms together and it has only made us stronger. Unlike the fairy tale a real relationship takes work. If it someone that truly knows your heart it is always worth the effort. As someone that had a rough life previous to us getting together, I am eternally grateful. Thank you, Jason, for loving all my perfect imperfections, All of me will always love all of you…

CHOICES

It is said that we are the choices we make. If that is true, how do we know when it is the right choice. We can wish to turn back the clock all we want, but the fact remains that we can’t. Once the choice has been made there is no going back, there is no turning back time there are only the choices we made and the consequences that follow. I have learned this over and over again throughout my life. None greater than the moment I chose to give my daughter up for adoption. It was the hardest choice I ever made and it has haunted me daily since that day.

Some of the choices we make, even know we know in the deepest part of ourselves it was the right choice can have a lasting effect, forever. It is like when you skip rocks on the water, the ripple effect goes on and on and on. I know in the deepest part of me that due to my circumstances and the never ending trials set before me that giving her up was the best thing for her, and yet it is a battle I would never win with myself. I have constantly questioned did I do the right thing? Did I make the right choice? For the past twenty -one years.  Even seeing how she has flourished and had every opportunity I still question my actions so long ago.

It became utterly clear to me,  that it was indeed the right choice when her father contacted me after all these years. This was my worst fears come to life, this man rejected her then, what could he possibly want with her now? Yet, another choice I would have to make regarding the welfare of my child. If he hurt her or rejected her again, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I was inconsolable for days, having dredged up so many past memories most of which I had forgotten about. Speaking to this man, this man that I had deemed the devil for so long was like a slap in the face, and yet, the more we spoke the more I realized. The choice I made, the one that had been haunting me for the past twenty-one years was, in fact, the right one.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t ready to have her, it wasn’t that I didn’t love her because I do. It was that I wanted to give her everything. The world, with all its endless possibilities. I couldn’t give her that, but the one thing I could do was give her to a loving family that could give her the world. The choices I made have come full circle since speaking to her father. The man that even now seems to have not learned anything from the past. The man that is still rejecting her today. I realized in the moment. That his choices may be eating him up and that is okay with me. But my choices I had to make the tough decision to give her what I new I couldn’t. If in fact, we are the choices we make, then I like to think I am the strong enough to let go when the touch choices come, and I am a loving mother that would and did do anything for their child even if that meant giving her to someone else to raise.