Last Wednesday, I shared some of my classwork from creative nonfiction. I spoke about it being harder to write than I thought and how I ended up tossing what I started off with. I shared the first draft that I planned to submit. It was ok, but still not what I was aiming for. Today, I will share the second draft that I sent in, which will change again based on feedback from my professor, and I’ll share the final piece next week.
I’m sharing the different parts so that you can see the progress in editing. One personal thing that happened while writing this version other than more tears, was that I made some connections to why I do certain things, such as why I want to rescue animals and that I have only rescued dogs. I would have rescued cats, too, but I’m allergic.
Anyway… here is the second version I know it’s a long read and I do apologize but I thank you for taking the time. Remember, comments, suggestions, and feedback are always welcome.
Have a great week, and may it be filled with hugs, love, laughter, and blessings.
Reflections: What I Should Have Known
December begins, which means Christmas is right around the corner. As with most holidays, it is a time for celebration and reflection. Celebrations will come later as there are still a few days, so now is reflection time. Good or bad, memories are ours to learn from, hold dear ones in our hearts, and to remember those that are no longer here but are in our thoughts.
As I am preparing for yet another medical procedure, I think about all the past years and how I should have known things would be different for me. Starting with my birth, when I also died. It seems that my mother’s blood thought I was something that needed to be attacked and destroyed. Not the welcome to the world you want from your mother, but it was kind of a forecast for our relationship. Not that she would attack me, but she did allow others. My great-grandparents proved to be my saviors several times throughout my life. From the day of my birth, they stepped in to financially cover the medical procedure to save my life. Had they not done that, it’s a good chance that instead of there being a few moments of death, I might not be here today.
Anyway, several times during my childhood, my great grandparents stepped up to protect me where my mother did not or could not. Once when my mother wanted to take me Christmas shopping, my great-grandmother said, “No, you don’t take a child to buy their own Christmas gifts. You can go, but she stays here.” At least that was what I was told happened. I was too young to know then, but it was a blessing that I didn’t go. A drunk truck driver plowed through the car that my mother, her boyfriend of the moment, several of their friends, and a baby that was sitting with my mother were in. The baby died instantly, the boyfriend was paralyzed from the waist down, the others I wasn’t told about, and my mother was thrown from the car. When she was taken to the hospital, it was thought that she was dead, so she was left on a gurney in the hallway while they took care of the others. Then the next morning someone saw the sheet move. Of course, by this time, since her injuries had not been addressed, brain damage set in. She could still function and, in fact, went on to get married two more times, but she couldn’t hold a job, and her decision-making definitely askew. Her brain damage was primarily frontal lobe, which meant you never knew if she was okay and in a good mood or if she would try to kill you. She had major mood swings that she had no control over. What a Christmas present that was for everyone. We should have known life would be interesting from there on.
A few years passed and my mother met her second husband, Mr. White. Who was a con artist and definitely one of her worst decisions. He used her for almost every penny she received from the accident, and once he went through that, he then chose to move them around, leaving behind various debts, especially unpaid rent. Mr. White was also abusive, primarily to me. My mother had insisted I live with them not too long after they were married; instead of leaving me at my great-grandparents. I hadn’t been there for very long when I received a bad grade. I was in first grade at a new school, living with a mother and stepfather I didn’t really know. Getting a bad grade should have been understood. Not by Mr. White, he felt it his duty to beat a good grade out of me. My mother did step in for this; she bit his bicep until she drew blood, and only then did he stop. It was the beginning, and I should have known this would not be the last time. I was in his way, and he didn’t like having me around since I was not his child. Many other things happened; one I try not to remember was where he killed my puppy. Due to putting the puppy to close to one of the older dogs during feeding and the older dog biting it in the eye and pulling it out, Mr. White chose to kill the puppy instead of taking it to a vet. I didn’t see what he did but I remember hearing it happen. I guess I know why I have so many dogs now, I adopt rescues to save, since I couldn’t save that one.
Still, several other memories stand out; one was when I couldn’t eat everything that he had put on my plate. He had filled it full as if he were the one eating, and after beating the fact that other children were starving around the world, and they would love to have the food that I would not eat, I was made to sit at the table until my plate was cleaned of even a crumb. Those memories were upsetting, but I think the worst was when I had poison ivy pretty much all over, and as usual with the rash, it itched… a lot. I tried not to scratch, but there were so many spots, and my hands had a mind of their own, so I couldn’t help myself. I ended up scratching to where most of the places were then bloody. Mr. White did not like that I couldn’t control my scratching, so he stripped me, poured rubbing alcohol on me, and then beat me because I couldn’t hold still. My mother did not try to protect me anymore. The first was also the last time she tried to protect me. I’m not sure why she didn’t, but there were more opportunities throughout the few short years I lived with them that she could have, but didn’t. Luckily, we visited my great-grandparents on one of the moves, and of course, Mr. White took the opportunity to ask for money because he lost another job. It ends up he sold me back to my great-grandparents. They wanted me to stay with them, but the only way he would allow me to, was if they gave him money. They saved me again by purchasing my freedom.
I should have known that something would step in the way of me being able to live with them till I was older and ready to leave for college. Around this time my father showed up and I lived off and on with him and his family, my mother, after she and Mr. White divorced, and my great-grandparents. I was held back a year in grade school because of all the moving. My grade school and teenage years were formed of pain, being unaccepted, and feeling betrayed by some family and friends. But there was a mix of happiness too. Time spent with my great-grandparents was always a pleasure. I was living with my father when my great-grandfather died, and I was devastated. I cried every night at bedtime for months which according to my father it was too long to act like that. To me the only positive male figure in my life left me and was never coming back. Who would save me now? My great grandmother would do her best as time went on, but her partner was gone so it wasn’t easy on her either.
Eventually, I don’t remember when I ended up living with my mother again. This time was not perfect, but I was around 15 years old and could speak up a bit more, true I would get in trouble, but I had a way to escape. We lived in the country in a hilly area and whenever things got to be too much I would “run for the hills”, where I would sit for hours dreaming or reading. My best friends were the dogs and a pony that you couldn’t ride but he was a great listener. He didn’t like it when I cried and would push me till I laughed. This was around the time when my health began go slightly in the wrong direction.
My health was always throwing me a few curves here and there, from allergies to what seemed like everything, bladder issues, and more. Should have known insurance would be my friend. Once in adulthood more things developed, and injuries happened causing more time at a doctor’s office or hospital. Still, I should have known. Pain, discomfort, anger, and other emotions blended with joy would fill my days.
As I reflect on everything, I understand when they say a person’s emotional health will affect their physical health. The stress, abuse, and heartache in my childhood definitely took it tool. My adult life has presented me with several health issues, and as of today, I have had 19 medical procedures. Often, I think that most, not all, but the majority of issues are connected to my beginning with my death and, of course, everything in between that no matter how harsh or painful mentally, physically, or emotionally life may have been, it made me stronger. Only one surgery tore at my inner strength, and that was the hysterectomy. I cried like a colicky baby from the moment I walked into the hospital to the time the sedation took effect. I felt my womanhood was being cut out, and I had no choice in the matter. Because this time I was betrayed by my own body. It took a little time, but I came to realize that that organ did not dictate my womanhood. I couldn’t have children anyway, so when the tumor grew it had to be removed. I am grateful it was another successful surgery.
As I reflect on my journey from the beginning to now, I should have known. I was given circumstances that made me stronger, and in my strength, I have found my way into my own happiness. I could have taken a different road and gone down a very dark path. Have I ever thought of ending things? Yes, I even tried once when I was around 11. Thankfully I failed.
Each day seems to start and end with aches and pains, and I know there are more medical procedures to come. But my life is also filled with love, happiness, and whatever else I choose to allow in.
I guess I should have known that no matter what was thrown at me, it was how I handled it and what I did with the information and emotions that would either make or destroy me. When I was broken, I was put back together and I overcame. Even when daily pains and discomfort might take me into reflection, in the end those reflections take me to gratitude. Gratitude for those that saved me, gratitude for my life; I love it and want to be around enjoying it for an extremely long, long time. I have too much I want to do, too many places to go, people to meet, and things to see. I look at it this way I died once, I think I’m good.
Still as I reflect on my journey from the beginning to now, I should have known. Despite those challenges, I’m stronger, have a deeper gratitude for the life I’ve lived and the resilience I developed. I am determined to continue embracing life no matter what ups and downs may appear, I will be ready with strength and gratitude.