I was the son my dad never had. I was never like other little girls when it came to things I’d want for Christmas or my birthday presents. I didn’t want no barbies, or baby dolls like a lot of other girls I played with always wanted. I wanted nothing other than Hot Wheels, Micro-Machines, Legos, and Tonka Trucks. Whenever I wasn’t allowed to play outside, say for instance because it’d been raining. I’d still let my imagination take me away. There weren’t boundaries to it and if there ever were, I didn’t only not know about em, I didn’t even know what the boundary meant. So, I’d line all my stuffed animals up pretending they were students, and of course I was the teacher. When my sister moved to a house in Ballard County there were a lot of books left behind. Mixed in with the regular books were school books including the teachers books. And we all know the teachers books had all the answers in them. So it wasn’t hard pretending I knew what I was teaching about, because I already had the answers.
My dad was, still is, a carpenter working remodeling peoples homes, adding whole additions onto their houses. Other times remodeling the inside like their kitchens, or their bedrooms. He gave me this huge piece of counter top I used like a desk all the times I played school. It had multiple uses really. Occasionally I pretended to be a secretary answering phones for my boss or whoever I made up to be working for. I’d put that piece of wood across my legs and place one of those old telephones ((the kind you couldn’t attach to the wall)) at one corner. And then I’d put some blank paper in front of me if I was gonna act like I was taking notes. Or the teachers books if I was gonna be playing school. My sister really only played with me whenever she was bored an didn’t have company. Or if it was what she wanted to play. Which was usually always barbies. And you already know she got the first pick at the barbie clothes we’d laid out. My dad built us a barbie doll house one time and it was so big. Big enough to where we had to leave it behind when we moved. He said it wouldn’t fit through the door so we could take it with us to our new home. Forget about tearing it down only for him to have to put it together again.
((Which by the way he coulda fuckin did for us since we never had shit anyways)).
I know I’m not alone remembering how popular Lisa Frank was back then. All the cool fuckin school supplies they came out with that carried her theme on them. One thing in particular I remember to this very day wanting nothing but a Lisa Frank binder. It was when I was in 5th or 6th grade. I know I told both my parents how bad I wanted one for school. I asked every fucking year right before school would start. Only I never fuckin got one. I even dreamed about getting one as a surprise from my mom and dad. Just to wake up disappointed like a motherfucker. It couldn’t have cost so much that they couldn’t of got me one. I do know that. I guess I’m still a little salty thinking back on that. It jus really grinds my fuckin gears knowing he coulda bought it for me, he jus didn’t or wouldn’t, period. ((Probably woulda taken away from his pot fund or whatever else he spent his money on instead of something his only kid wanted more than anything back then)). It was also the very first girly thing I remember wanting.
Listen to me! Pouting about a Lisa Frank binder that I never got when I was like 7-9 years old. OMG! It was because of how bad I really wanted the damn thing. If it was my sister that wanted it, she’d have got it. But then again she always got whatever she wanted. Me not ever getting one hurt my feelings more than I really thought it did. Otherwise I don’t think I’d still feel the same about it just like I did then. You’ll be amazed at the shit people hold grudges over. Mine being something as petty as a Lisa Frank school binder. FML.
Moving right on . . .
I miss my sister some days more than others. You’d think after her being gone 19 years it wouldn’t weigh so heavy on my heart still. I guess a part of me will never let her go. I mean obviously she’ll forever be in my mind, stacked with all our wonderful memories together. But I’m saying even though it’s been that long, I still find a way to talk about her in this future, real time, trying to imagine how she’d be if she were really here right now. She’d be 46-years old I know that. Wow! I’d actually get to bug her for being in her 50’s damn near, bahahaha.
Anyways . . .
Naw but forreal I’d fuck wit her like that all the time, man. She got a job at this local strip club when she was in her early 20s. Coming home from her first night of dancing, I was already there babysitting my niece when I asked her how it went. She said it wasn’t so bad. Not like she thought it’d be anyways. I asked her if she’d been embarrassed because I know I’d have been. I jus couldn’t even begin to imagine strippin in front of all kinds of strangers. Leaving that hanging open for further discussion she picked it right up by saying something in the way of, “I do feel kinda nasty though”. Without missing a beat I told her, “I’d feel nasty too if I was sliding up an down a pole other bitches had they coochie all on”.
Ba-rum-bum-bum, tshhh ((drum sound after joke)).
When I tell you guys she busted a gut laughing, that’s exactly what she did. Her boyfriend that was there ((because her picked her up an brought her home)) started laughing too an said that was a burn. I was never really good at those when I was growing up. Like I didn’t know how to really be a smart ass. I didn’t know all the different slang and derogatory terms like other people did when telling someone off, or cracking on em. So, when I realized I literally did jus that without meaning to nor trying, I was actually proud of myself. It made me feel like I caught on. It felt good bein a smartass back at her when we were forreal jus pickin at each other.
((I knew to keep my mouth shut when she was ever pissed off an we were fighting. If you wanna read about the very 1st time I fought back sticking up for myself then you need to read a post I wrote titled “My Story”)).
Thinking back to that memory put a smile on my face bigger than shit. Lol. Those were good fuckin times and it’s those good, funny, cherishable moments that make me miss her that much more. I can recall not too long ago my parents dropped over and I walked em outside when they were leaving. I was still in the process of writing my testimony so I was feeling raw an exposed and shit. I was telling em bout how far into my testimony I was at the time and naturally her name came up and I began crying. This time even though they got misty eyed listening tell em bout a specific memory when I heard my dad say something. I pulled away from my momma because we was hugging each other and asked him what he said. He repeated himself an told me I needed to move on or let go of the bad things that’s happened or I’d never heal.
Some kinda bullshit he’s always spoutin. He’s what you’d call a Bible thumper. Always trying to preach to people he thought was living wrong or doing wrong. ((When his narcissistic ass wouldn’t be living right his damn self)).
I had been looking at him when he was talking but I cut him off fairly quickly letting him know I wasn’t crying over any of the bad. I was crying because I missed all the good. The fuck you talkin bout ((Is what I was thinking to myself))? After he heard me say that he acted like, “Ooh! Okay.” As if it jus’ made sense to him. I almost did the teenager thing and rolled my eyes and you know made that sound almost like you were fixing to say “DUH” but instead sayin “gawd”. Lol. I guess he was so used to me being depressed and sad over her no longer being alive an still here with all of us.
During my time in prison I told you guys I spent that time alone in my head. That 4 1/2 years was such a long time to be alone by yourself regardless of how many hundreds of women I’d been locked up with. Yeah I mean I’d interact with people everyday. Played spades, told jokes, colored pictures, wrote many letters, did make up, cooked and ate together, to even being a lookout when girlfriends were wanting some private time away from everyone else’s eyes and ears. Best believe all of those women were the Martha Stewart’s of getting it in. If I’m lying I’m dying. LMFAO.
When night time came round it also came with lock down with our lights in the dorm being shut off. I did learn forgiveness and how to forgive myself for not being able to save either of them from dying. I carried so much fuckin guilt that I didn’t know how to let it go. How could I? Knowing first hand what I saw on that night and how horrible, and fuckin chaotic it was? I’d go right back to mentally kicking my ass, and having pep-talks with myself about certain things I absolutely wouldn’t do any more when I got out. My relationship with my higher power grew in strength and understanding. It allowed me to decipher answers to questions only I knew I asked. Man, let me just say it took so much weight off my chest and brought peace and clarity into my mind again. Something I hadn’t had in so long I damn near forgot not only what it was but also what it felt like.
I was so fed up with the old Tina and her actions it was pathetic. That crazy bitch was wild, unpredictable, unstable, and didn’t listen for shit. But I can finally say I’ve learned my lesson though. If it weren’t for me fuckin up catching those damn charges in the first place, I wouldn’t of served any of that time. Plus, I know I wouldn’t have learned any other way. And it’s about fuckin time too. I’ll be 40 this year. The time for me to grow up has come and gone and I’m ‘STILL’ learning to be a responsible adult. Think I’m playing? I promise you I’m not. It’s almost like I mentally stopped growing and maturing after Jennifer died. Like my mind was stuck in the year 2003 when I was supposed to continue growing, learning and maturing like people did with the rest of their lives. But I wasn’t maturing, or growing, or living. Because I was high more often than when I was sober. And if I can be completely honest, I’m feeling like I’m still playing catch up to everyone else my age. Everyone that already knows about shit that I should know by now, only I don’t. Just with me knowing that truth about myself, made me feel more stupid than I have ever remembered feeling or ever being.
Moving on . . .
Here I am in the year 2022 fixing to be 40 -years old and also now a grandmother.She died 19 years ago but I can still reminisce on all of the hilarious things we’ve done together and the cherishable memories we’ve made. Everlasting! To the point where I’ll never forget about those memories, or her. Ever! I still to this day talk about her and Jesse ((my nephew who died in the fire)) to my kids. They tell me more times than not that I’ve already told them whatever it is I’m about to tell them again. Idk, it’s my way of keeping her alive, here with me in the present even though she’s really not.
I’m all caught up now. I really hope you liked this true short story of getting to know, “This is Me: Parts 1 & 2. Feel free to ask questions if there may have been anything you think I might of left out. I’ll gladly answer them for you. And one more thing. Would everyone please try to read my post titled, “My Story”? Giving you a heads up, it’s very long and took me months to write, edit, rewrite, and finally post. It’s how my heart bled the feelings I went through while I’m telling you guys about my childhood, on up through the years I had with my sister before she passed away.
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