Because, Without It, I Wouldn't Be Uniquely Me! Post #2

Before I start, I would like to say that I hope you enjoyed my first post and that you are here returning to continue alongside my journey with me. If this is your first time here, follow the link below to read Post #1, so that this may make more sense.

1heartbeat2themoon.blogspot.com

With that said, I will go ahead and get back to my journey…

MY INTRODUCTION

Is it possible to FEEL the words said to you? Would that be considered synesthesia, or would I just be considered weird for feeling this way? 

I began to notice that I was becoming a hermit and staying away from others, fearing they would notice how ‘unique’ I was. Any time it was noticed, “unique” was not the word others tended to use. “Weird” is what always seemed to pass their lips instead. 

I guess I must have made it more obvious than I thought.

I suppose I realized it the moment my mother let me know she felt it too. I cannot remember what I was saying to her, but I vividly remember the words she stopped me from mid-sentence, just to tell me. She let out a big sigh and said, 

“Oh mija (my daughter), I feel so bad for you having to grow up in this world, because I just know that your head and your heart will make you live a very hard life!” 

I had absolutely no idea what that meant at the time, but I do know now that she could not have been more right!

Had I written this before my mother passed away, you would be reading a whole different story. In losing my mother, my best friend, I gained insight into the truth about how my family veered so far off track from each other. As odd as our story was, it somehow managed to all come together to create me and my awkwardly curious mind.

I am “a diamond in the rough”! Made for greatness! I just have not quite discovered what that is yet… I am emotional sometimes…ok, most times, and highly over-sensitive. I have “heart” towards others, including those who I probably shouldn’t have.

I am sure I can think of a few people who would beg to differ on all the things I said about myself, which they are entitled to their own opinion of me, however in this case, you get to decide!

AFRAID OF NOTHING, BECAUSE I FEAR IT ALL!

I find it interesting how a person can believe that because they know things like what a person likes, does not like, their health, daily routines, and/or other personal information about that person, it means they know them well. That may be so, but I believe that no matter what we know about someone, there is always more to learn. 

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I knew my mama better than anyone, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned she listened to country music more often than I thought. Enough to know the words to a few songs I did not know she even knew. Even when she passed away, I found out from my son what her favorite song was. 

I thought I knew this whole time just for my pre-teen to tell me that she told him what her favorite song was but to keep it a secret because no one would believe she even knew it. Not only did she know it, but she even knew who the artist was, and my son, who can’t even remember where he just put his shoes, remembered. He told us that it was their secret but had overheard us talking about what music to play at her viewing and he thought she would like to hear her favorite song one more time. 

As for me, I wonder who would say that spiders are my biggest fear. They, of course, would be wrong.

To be honest, I am more curious as to how many people would know the right answer. Fact is, other than God’s judgement I fear, well, EVERYTHING!

I lost my husband, so I fear the loss of my children extremely!

I fear all the potential evil that may be surrounding me.

I fear crowds of people. It triggers my anxiety.

I fear my own imagination.

I fear abandonment and being unrequited!

I fear insanity!

I fear UNKNOWN!!!

At times, possibly even my own vulnerability.

Feeling as if others were only playing with my emotions, I became a scarce sight from the world around me. I wanted others to see me as a woman who had things sorted out and intact, but usually that wasn’t the case for me. I wonder if I am as unrequited as others make me feel at times. Why must I feel things so deeply?! 

I bet you’re thinking that I must be out of my mind, but I assure you that I only seek understanding. I want to be the relatable form that helps others who may feel the same way I do. At the least, it does feel freeing to get this all out on paper.

Until I became a parent, I had always wondered why my parents forced me to interact with others. I get it now…my oldest is a lot like me, but again let me put my thoughts back on track, because that’s a whole different story, for a whole different day. 

My summers were usually planned out for me by my parents until they finally divorced. I believe it was the summer of my 6th grade when they decided to make me meet the other kids in our neighborhood . Unsure why they felt the need to push for friends at that time, I assumed it was bc that year I had decided that I wanted to turn my bedroom into a library full of books. My mom wanted no part in it, but my dad  went along with it, for me. We would pull out the newspaper and check for all the garage sales that people were having, then we would map them out in a big circle; starting left and working our way right back home. 

I accomplished my goal by the way. So you see, at the time I didn’t really see a need to hang out with other people. They didn’t get me anyway. With my books, I fit in with every crowd. My dad would say, 

“You’re going to read yourself right off of a cliff someday.” 

Well, hasn’t happened so far, but hey, there’s still time. 

I'm only joking! 

I apologize for my lack of memory as to where I learned this from, but when I was younger, I used to call my sisters before going to visit them. When they answered, I would sing, “I’ll see you when I get there. If I ever get there!” They would begin to laugh because it sounds so whimsical and cute, but then the words would register and they would tell me, “awe, don’t say that!" 

I’d return with, “I didn’t say that. I sang that!”

Maybe that’s what others meant when they called me weird. I guess that’s why I was so attracted to my boys' father. He was a 100% goof until the day he passed away.

For example, just a few days before he passed away, he told my cousin, “When I’m gone I don’t want you to cry at my service. I want you to listen to music, drink, laugh and throw a big party.” She said, “You do? Why?” He tells her, “That way when I am in Heaven looking down on all of you, I can lift my hands in the air and shout out ‘you guys, I was just joking’”. 

I think she laughed and cried at the same time. When he said it and when he passed. I remember at his services, she hit me in the arm and said, “Dammit Deborah, why did he have to say that to me for?” I think after that we both laughed and cried at the same time.

To be continued...

Because Without It, I Wouldn't Be Uniquely Me! (Post #1)

 I am ready to begin the telling of my tale…

The dream of becoming an author made me want to hurry up and grab a pen and paper. Stephen King, here I come! 

But me! Write a book? Yeah, right! 

However, a memoir did not sound all that bad. To tell the world my story, through my feelings and emotions, would only be a dream come true! But then...

I started to think, how or where would I start? How would I end it? How could I end my story when my story had not ended! 

So, as long as I breathe, I shall write!

At first, I was embarrassed to share my thoughts with the world. I began writing with the intention that it would be included alongside my will, but then I wondered, what if someone out there needs to hear something I said? 

That thought only made me question, what would they do if they wanted to ask me something? If I released it after I have passed, I would not be able to answer any questions that might help them. 

Thus, my hero's journey shall begin!

Now I must warn you, by inviting you down my path, I am presenting you with my raw, bare self. With that said, I ask that you read this lightly and without judgment. Plus, with all due respect, these are my lessons to learn from, therefore, only I can convince myself if I am wrong in my path. 

Yes, I have made mistakes. I am not claiming to be perfect. I am simply saying, it's called "self-discovery" for a reason.

This will not be your typical life tale. There is no: 

"Once upon a time..." or "In the beginning, there was this girl named Deborah...". 

I wrote this with as much scattered mind as I regularly have. It jumps and skips around as it comes to me, and only tells the tale of my thoughts, as I figure out what path I am meant for.

and now 

      I will end this post with my beginning:

ME?

Growing up as a child, I felt as if I was not someone that others wanted around much. Kids can be cruel when they want to be. That may be why, at the time, I preferred books over people. It was easy to escape reality when a book was in my hand. It also helped me forget how different I was from the other kids my age.

Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder what other people would say about me at my funeral. Would they call me smart? Or a total ignoramus? Would they say I was kind and outgoing? Are there people who think of me as a people-person? Would they call me calm, quiet, introverted, and reserved? Would those who were mean to me, say terrible things about me, or pretend to have liked me only because I am gone? Would they stay silent, or even care enough to show up?

THE B-I-B-L-E, YES THAT'S THE BOOK FOR ME!

As a child, my father was a minister. Knowing, only the basic words to all the songs, when it came to God, I assume I merely "Bible thumped" my way through childhood. Anything more than that seems to be repressed. At times, I have flashes of my childhood memories, but it is my dreams I seem to remember the most…

Look at me, already getting off track…

Being naive and a borderline brat, I had often wondered why we would "rebuke the Devil in the name of Jesus", and prayed for everything, but to keep our family intact. As a child, I could not recognize that things happened for reasons beyond our control.

However, I did realize how much animosity I did have towards liars. I wanted to understand why it was so paradoxical for others to grasp that I could see through their lies. I realized that lying only meant one thing. They were taking away the option I had to 

"take it or leave it". "Accept it or not". "Be okay with it but only if I choose". 

What I did not understand was WHY they did it.

Deciding for me that I needed to be "PROTECTED". By them. FROM WHAT? The truth? 

Do you want to know what I took from it instead: 

They saw me as too weak to handle my own life and incapable of making decisions for myself.

Because of lies, I spent over 35 years of my life, not knowing certain truths about how my familiar world fell apart. However, on a fair note, what could I possibly have done at that time, knowing what I know now? The truth was exposed to the right people at the right time I suppose. 

PICTURE PERFECT?!

It was my eleventh birthday the day I remember things changing. My once, very affectionate parents, were no longer even living in the same house anymore; And yet again, everyone felt I was too young to be told why my mother left my younger sister and me with my father that evening, or why she didn’t come home. 

My memory fades as to how long she was actually gone, but it did not seem long after her leaving that my father decided it was best for my sister and I to go stay with my mother. I recall him telling me, “You’re not a baby anymore, you are a young woman now.” I feared what those words meant as they passed his lips. He made me realize I was going to be going through changes. physically! He explained to me that I would have questions I would want answered, but he as a man, would be unable to answer them for me. He told me that he would not be able to teach me the things I needed to know and be confident in knowing I learned them right. The way that a woman should. 

My heart was confused!

Still unsure as to the majority of what he said may have meant for me at the time, I can say that one compelling memory I do have is of my father sitting me down on his knee on the kitchen floor. He was crying and telling me not to forget that he loves me and that one day when I am older, I would understand why I had to leave. I can remember feeling as if nothing was going to be the same anymore. That the life I was living was no longer going to be mine.

Looking back at my place in their situation now, as an adult and as a mother, I suppose my mother was trying to handle their situation the best she could and they decided my sister and I should have to deal with as little change as possible. 

As I mother, I probably would do the same, but as a logical human being, I don’t see the hype in lying to your children, even in their situation. 

At the same time, I have never been in either one of their shoes, so who am I to speak on how they lived their lives while trying to raise a family at the same time. 

With that said, kudos to you Mom and Dad! I think you both did one hell of a job, especially given all of our circumstances. 

You know…

I often wonder if the way I think is really all that different from others…

Or 

am I the different one?!

TO BE CONTINUED…