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…
