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Even though your not physically here with me, I can still hear your voice yelling at me. Remember that one fight we got into over me wanting one of your beers. You weren’t going, be dammed. You literally shut me in the fridge you tackled it so hard. Man, that hurt. I know your probably thinking to yourself about how sorry you truly are. It was the addiction and fear of withdrawals. This I now know. Please don’t be sorry though because I wouldn’t change a thing about all the sisterly fights we have had. You always told me to defend myself and I think today that you’d be super proud of me. I sat and served those 4 years I was dished out. I did in fact always learn things the hard way. Granted you tried to keep that from happening by trying to teach me life lessons. Only I was so young and naive I wasn’t putting all the puzzle pieces together to see the bigger picture you were always trying to show me. I couldn’t plan out my life as far as you had seen it for me because I was never sure myself I would make it further than you. But I did. I’m now here in this future we once talked about together. Only your not here with me. God seen fit to let you go home and be with Lil Jesse. I don’t think they’d have been able to get him to stop crying for you otherwise. Years have gone by and guess what? I’m about to be a grandma! Can you believe it Sis? Not even have I hit the 40 yr old mark and Mrs. Mercedes has already turned me into an old maid.
I was on the phone with mom one day last week. We had been talking about mostly things past. I told her that you had told me the truth. Also, why you didn’t choose to tell her exactly the things I knew. I told her it was you being you. Always looking out for her and I. Wanting nothing but the best for us both. Even if you had to put yourself through hell in order for that to happen. I look back at all the close brushes with death you had where God could have taken you from our lives sooner than when you went. I’m thankful he didn’t. I remember all the silly games we played as poor bored kids with nothing better to do than to cause a little mischief. Man the ass whippings we got. Remember that one time we got told on for smoking cigarettes and our older cousin refused to do as he was told and smoke that cig in front of all the adults? Man he got whipped like no one else. If he’d of just listened to his mom he would have been sent to sit in time out or lay in a vacant bed in another room as the rest of us who had obeyed were already doing. Our childhood was never dull or boring even though we couldn’t see that. It was because we let our imaginations run wild and we turned our backs at the thought of having nothing to do. When we were together the possibilities were endless. Together our imaginations soared high above everyone else’s. We lived in the real world that’s why. Growing up poor. No matter where it was, it was the ghetto.
I remember that time mom and I walked to the county jail to meet you at the door when they let you go. You sang that song by “Tupac : Dear Momma” all the way home. Of course I joined in an we sang together. You usually only went to jail for fighting. Always something petty was usually what it was. You and all those fights over your ex-boyfriend. So many fights you were in over that boy. I thought you were crazy. Sometimes I swore you were. You were like a magnet. You attracted all the crazies. People loved to hate you because they were jealous. I seen what it was that made them act so foolishly though. You were a nurturer and a care giver by nature. People felt safe in your presence. There were a few good one’s in the bunch. But if they were in touch with their feeling they had to kick rocks. You had no time to be turning pansies into men. I’ll give you that. You always knew exactly what you wanted in life. With me however, I always wondered where my place was in this thing called life. Was I going to be a good mother when the time came? Would I be independent? Or rely on a man like the world taught us to do back then. Women were just getting rights to do certain things when you left me here. Would you believe we have had a woman vice president? Yes ma’am we sure have. That’s how far things have developed since your time here last. It has already been 20 years since the terrorist attacks in New York that claimed the lives of thousands of innocent people.
Man! The memories I have of those years. I was with the brother of your true love when that happened. Living in the infamous Hummel house, dating one of the older brothers. I was barely 19 years old when all that happened. Working at ChemPak Chemical Plant. Coming home smelling of sulfur and other toxic, probably deadly chemicals. The things they need to manufacture tires. Who knew? It was my first ever factory job. I absolutely hated it. Being a mother though I had to have employment some where. I remember coming home after pulling a morning shift, to see Mrs. Helen sitting in front of the television crying. I asked her why she was crying and if she was okay. I guess it was supposed to be obvious what was wrong. That’s when I remember looking directly at the tv seeing people make the decision of umping to their death versus being burnt alive or buried beneath mountains of rumble. It was so tragic. I couldn’t take my eyes away as I watched in horror what the entire country was on their knees praying about. So many people giving their all to help others in tragic circumstances all around them. Seemingly smothering them with doubt. They never gave up and continued to find and pull people miraculously alive under all the rubble from those buildings.
Fast forward 20 years and here I sit with my laptop perched in my lap typing away and the keys on the board telling you things I know you know already but can’t help but to mention. Your little Nicky ain’t so little no more. He’ll be 21 this coming December. On mom and dads anniversary. Mercedes will be of legal age next month. !8 years old Finally!!! She’s not with the BOY that got her pregnant. I’m glad she phased out of that one quick enough. I was so worried about her mental health when I first found out that it literally made me feel physically sick. Like I was going through those withdrawals you feared so much. Yeah that bad. I always remember watching you live your life and telling myself that I would never do this or that. I would never do that drug or become like you. Everyone in our so called family only seen the bad you did or that you brought when you came around. They didn’t see the life threatening injuries you had on the inside. How you were always trying to keep from bleeding to death from the loved ones that were cause for those cuts in the first place. How harsh were their judgments. The way they gossiped behind your back, only to tell you they loved you to your face. Get the hell out of here with that fake ass love you spout. Teaching others to be one way when in the dark your the devil in disguise. Oh the secrets you kept. People you have kept from going to prison for the rest of their lives. No one could say they ever met anyone as real as you. What you said behind ones back you would always say to their faces.
You also taught me forgiveness in one of the most amazing displays I have ever witnessed. I’ll leave that one unspoken. Always close to my heart. In the book with sister’s rules of never betraying that sacred bond of never telling on each other. God, Jennifer I miss you so much it’s crazy.
Caught up…
I'd rather read a good book over watching a movie made from it. What I hear most from people when I tell them is 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action-packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made. Of course, dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was a pretty big tom boy for being such a little girl. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though, perks of being the oldest, I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making racetracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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