Scared
Sometimes it feels
like I have been scared my whole life. Most days I still feel scared.
Only now, the fears have changed. The more God changes me, the more
fears I find myself letting go of and hanging on to him and his
promises.
I can remember being
so scared that I did not even want to get out of bed. I simply wanted
to pull the covers over my head and let the world pass me by. And
this was not when I was younger, this was only a few years ago.
Thankfully, each day now, I can lift my head up and smile as soon as
I wake up. This is my story.
I have not always
been a Christian, and definitely not an example for anyone to look up
to. I was completely the opposite in fact for many years. I survived
what was rough for me, would be rough for anyone I think, although I
am extremely thankful that it was not any worse than it was.
There have been
many things that have happened to me as I have walked this far in my
life. I cannot and would not say that the journey has always been
smooth sailing. Times have completely changed me from what I thought
I would be at different points into who I am now. Childhood dreams
that did not become reality are even now hard to remember. Those
dreams that you dream while in elementary school or even middle
school subtly change as you grow and then one day you look back and
remember, maybe with a touch of sadness, those times when you thought
the world would be yours for the taking.
I grew up in a
little, and I mean little town in Georgia. There were a few years
growing up that we lived elsewhere, but we were mostly here. We
consisted of my mom, step dad, sister, granny, grandaddy, nana and
whole lot of other family. Many a re still around here, some have
moved away and others have passed to where there is no pain. We were
and are a truly dysfunctional, extended Southern family. My father
lived across the country and I could count on one hand the times I
talked with him until I was well grown but more about him later.
So, we have this
picturesque little town, not even a red light to slow passing cars
and all the people knew you and your family and so forth. Perfect
place to bring up your children you think. A wonderful place to call
home. There I was, known by most all of them around me and yet I
still felt all alone most of the time. There was no one my age that
lived within five miles to play with, so except for church on Sundays
and extremely infrequent overnight stays I was alone. My parents not
being fond of driving me to someone else's house and having to pick
me up limited my friends greatly, as did our social standing among
those I went to school with. We were poor, but we made it and I can
truthfully say we did not go without the necessities, no extras
though. The chubby girl with glasses whose parents did not want to
did not have the money for the clothes and accessories to fit in with
the rest of the kids around the school. I tended to stay quiet and to
myself in elementary school with books for company and to fuel my
dreams. I went to church every weekend and spent a lot of time with
my grandparents while my own parents were at bars and biker parties
and other such events. I saw a lot of people that my parents hung out
with and the things they did and attitudes they had surely made
impressions on me although I did not realize it at the time.
Things started
going worse when middle school and the rest of puberty kicked in, see
I was one of those girls who started 'blooming' while still in
elementary school and I did not like how it made me stand out even
worse from all the 'normal' girls. I can truthfully say that during
fifth to tenth grade I went through a lot of self hate and did a lot
of self damage. I can really say that I never learned to give myself
a fair shake when it came to comparisons and pray all the time that I
can teach my children better. Skipping ahead to the now for a minute,
I am a Christian, Wife, Mother and Nurse, those are my most loved
jobs especially the first three. My husband and children are my life
and God is my soul, I have been so richly blessed and continue to be
so every day that I have with them. Ok, back in time we go again.
The first year of
middle school was not too bad, a few new friends and new experiences,
that had me coming out of my shell a little bit. Then, my great uncle
moved his wood working shop down the road from our house. Now, being
a 12 year old, having somewhere to hang out that is not at home and
there are no parents to give you rules, that was awesome! He seemed
to be okay for a old guy, he was in his sixties or seventies then
probably. He would have the radio on and would let me work with his
tools and buy me drinks and snacks from the store and I got to keep
the change. Then, one day he asked me to dance, I said okay, thinking
nothing of it really. I was really enjoying all his attention that he
was giving just to me and not fussing at me or making me feel bad. As
his hands wandered over my I can remember thinking I should be really
still and then I will be able to go home. I did not want him to get
mad at me and not let me come and hang out at his shop anymore. The
next time I went nothing happened and it was just like a nightmare
that was over. Then again, it was only a momentary reprieve, because
the very next time I went over, he did it again and kept doing it for
several months, every time telling me 'Shush' when I would start to
say something while the country music played loudly on the radio. I
couldn't tell anyone, this was a family member after all and they
don't do things that will hurt you, and I knew I would get into
trouble if I said anything at all. That somehow this was all my fault
that he was touching me and that I should not have made him do it is
what I knew in my head and heart that I would hear if I said
anything. I mean, at this point, I knew I was a bad kid and no one at
school, in the neighborhood or at home wanted me around that I could
tell. I was always the odd one one out that did not fit in with
everyone else. I finally just got up enough nerve to quit going to to
his shop, but not before I realized that if you want attention that
makes you feel special you have to let people have their way.
Finally, to my relief and shame, he died. After the funeral I told a
family member, almost 5 years after it was over and done with and it
was not a surprise when she did not believe me. I'm not even sure
what she thinks now, I have never asked.
Several lessons
that I picked up from the whole affair stuck with me after that for a
long time. Guys are in control and no one will believe the girl no
matter how innocent they still are. Also that if you don't fit in
with your society you have no power over yourself. If only I had
known where to look for the power and the comfort and the courage to
let myself be loved and lifted up. Instead I continued with the web
of lessons above that I created in my brain as I started getting
noticed by guys my age.
When I was 13, I
was grounded for disobeying my parents, so while they were gone I
snuck out to meet my boyfriend and hang out. We used to hang out in
the train cars after they were all gone for the day. A few minutes
later, I was handcuffed to the car and my boyfriend who 'loved' me
would not unlock the handcuffs until I gave him oral and he was done,
then he let me loose and I went straight home. In my head, lessons 1
&2 were simply repeating themselves again and this is just how
guys were going to be and to have a boyfriend then you had to act
that way. I cannot think of a time up to that point when I was more
scared as I saw my parents drive by going home- where I was supposed
to be since I was grounded- and I knew I could not beat them home and
could not stop crying. Another point against me to prove again of how
bad and worthless I really was as a person. That day, I remember
thinking that I was worth absolutely nothing to no one. No one cared
about me and even wanted me around to bother them. I was simply
taking up space, using extra money and causing everyone to fight
more. 1989, March 19th, while listening to my parents
fight outside in the carport, waiting to go to my cousins birthday
party, I decided that I was tired of the fighting and feeling bad, so
I swallowed a whole bunch of pills that were in our medicine basket.
Then, I realized that I needed to call my Granny and tell her
goodbye, I could not leave without doing that. After hanging up on
her, she called my parents who did the right thing and took me
straight to the ER. Let me tell you, Charcoal does not taste good!! I
can still remember that taste and even remember getting fussed at for
ruining the party and why would I do that to them? Not a bit of I'm
so glad you called someone or I love you and want you around. My
granny was crying but my mother wasn't, I remember thinking how odd
that was.
No comments:
Post a Comment