So many are worse off than me. What makes me think it’s okay to do this, to ask for money now. I am a born again Christian (the kind that know I am here to love not judge others). Shouldn’t my faith let me know it will all work out? It always has… I’ve been in many tough spots, and I know I should have been dead a few times, so if course I believe the Lord will work things out. I have never understood why he would do that for me, but then again I have never believed anyone has truly loved me. It’s something I can’t believe.
I grew up very very blessed and had what I thought, what many thought was a wonderful, beautiful family, and it was in many ways. We even had our photos in the local paper which was The Louisville Times back then. That was the name of the daytime paper. The night time paper was The Courier Journal. We were in the paper with a story entitled The Model Family. It’s funny now… the story was about the fact that we all modeled at the time… my parents and my brother included.
As I grew that title took on a bit of irony.
My mother was “head strong” for her generation and my father was a real mans man who could charm all the women.
I idolized my Daddy… he taught me so many good things. Common sense, how to think for myself, how to put others before myself as Jesus taught us. I asked him anything and everything. He taught us all what would now be equivalent to music appreciation 101, and the same for art. My mother sang at the local radio station in Lexington starting at age 12 until her late teens.
We children inherited good genes in our looks, talent, and were taught how to behave in adult social settings beautifully at very young ages.
It was idyllic. It took its toll. My brother was born with beautiful very gentle soul. I have often said he could hear harmonies even the angels couldn’t here. I became a lounge singer and performed 5 hours a night 6 nights a week and often traveled on the 7th day. It was very very exciting! My brother however was also considered as being slow and his life was a struggle always. He and I were the closest in age being 14 months apart.
My father, being a manly man, having served in WWII, and having come from his generation believed his best course of action to toughen up my brother was to beat it into him. My brother became schizophrenic, and what was once called manic depressive.
Treatment of my brother by our father did not escape my sisters and me or my mother. In fact my parents fought loudly and constantly with my mother being slapped occasionally.
We are now all plagued with depression, anxiety, other various problems.
My parents stayed married till my father died. He died with his family around him, crying. I wailed my sister said. My world ended and the world became worse off as did my family, in my opinion.
My mother remarried at age 71 or 72. She was very happy, none of us liked him, but Momma was very happy. He was nothing like daddy, not handsome, not clever or smart.
I have considered myself as the middle child all my life. With 4 children let me explain. My older sister was special because she was the oldest, my brother special because he was the only boy, and my younger sister the baby, and the one Momma dotted on. My younger sister and I shared a room, Momma would spend minutes telling my sister good night telling her how precious and loved she was. Momma would then leave the room with no words or look towards me.
I was the one sent to breakup the fights between mom and dad only to be told by them that I was being overly dramatic. As the years went on I was the one my sisters would call when they were having problems, yet once I got off the road (at age 31), I found I was clearly not welcomed by my sisters. I had become a classless person some how. I was more of an embarrassment than anything with my out-going personality. I didn’t know how to dress, I had a tiny apartment (the first of my life at age 31!).
While on the road I married, twice. The first I married I think because he was so loved by my family. He just seemed to fit right in. As our time as a couple went on I was shocked to hear my husband scream at me Fuck you!!! Even daddy didn’t do that!
I remarried at about age 23 or 24. I was married in Fajardo Puerto Rico. I married a person from there. I won’t call him a man. No male is a man who does things to his wife as he did. Yes, he perpetuated the idea of Latin men who beat their wives. He would beat me then want to make love to me. I learned later in nursing school this is called emotional rape. He threatened to have me locked up in an insane asylum and told me no one would come and get me that I was too far away and no one would come that far. He threatened to kill me several times, is still remember. There is so much to remember.
When i found the courage to leave him I moved back to Louisville, and soo became entangled in a relationship with a married man. This seemed a likely place for me. I didn’t really deserve to have someone for myself. He promised for over 17 years to leave his wife any marry me. His wife finally left him. By then I had moved on to a man who would become my current husband, and I pray the one who will be with me till the end of life.
I met my husband when I was 42. I had become an RN. He was unbelievably handsome, could dance, and as I observed him was kind to everyone. He was also modest as it took about a year before I understood just who he was and what he meant to the west end community of Louisville. My husband was a civil rights advocate, having worked with Dr.King. He became know as one of “The Black Six.” His activism for black folks was something I did and still do admire having grown up in a family who taught me that if someone is different from you that makes them one thing and one thing only….. interesting.
My mother objected to my involvement with him not because he was black, but because he had no money. I did and still do have the greater income between the two of us. At times in our relationship that has bothered me, but now as my husband leans closer to age 80 than 70 I see in him all of who he is. He is a man of character who still works out side the home as well as around the house. A man who gets down on his knees to pray daily. He is also human with demons of his own. When he drinks beer he becomes so intense about religion and politics. He becomes very cold towards me. Indeed we have not made love since being married over 15 years ago. So lives on my self loathing.
My life has not been all bad! Please know that! I have traveled in the USA a lot! I have experienced other cultures (yes including my husband’s). I have entertained and felt more at home on stage than anywhere. I helped my brother, in many ways I pray. I was there for my mother to see her through to her death from the one disease she always said she prayed she would never get… pancreatic cancer. I have given freely of myself and my possessions to the point that my financial situation is now what it is. Giving has always been a greater joy for me than it was for those who received I believe. I’ve been told so many times don’t do that! Don’t spend all your money on other people, don’t give away your treasures. That’s me, that’s what gives me joy! I can’t do it now.
The thing that is bringing me to my knees is all that has happened before. Isn’t that what always happens? All that has happened before…
I had a recurring nightmare from a very early age regularly. The sky is pure blue and beautiful, lovely perfect daisies start to fall from the sky so gently… then the feeling of doom comes the deep dark sick in my stomach… and it comes… the giant rolling pen that rolls over the daisies and crushes them all.
As I grew up the nightmares changed to someone trying to “get me”, trying to kill me. Trying to reach my husband but the phone never works. My sisters and my mother go to have fun but don’t want me around.
As I write now, the pressure in my chest increases. I think of all my sins. The sex I had with virtual strangers, the pills I took to relax, the Jezabel attitude I had. I know all my diagnoses Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, Paranoia. So many many other things I have done. Now wondering what will happen to me if my husband dies first? I know I won’t want to live… I will never go anywhere. I don’t want to go out now… though to meet me I am a very lively, outgoing… nice person!
My body is angry, now with Fibromyalgia, high BP, Obese… surprise surprise.
I miss my mother, I keep waiting for love. It’s time to stop dreaming.
My financial situation. Well, let me say first I have never been one to want the biggest, the newest, or the best.
My dream would be to have my very modest home, my student loans, my credit card debt paid off.
Yes, I would love to have other nice things people (mostly women I guess) stay up and dream about at night… finishing my basement, having cars newer than 2005/2006. Go to a mom and pop motel near a beach in the winter. That would suit me so well… a mom and pop.
I know it’s not the worst, or the most moving. I ask because I am just so so very tired. I would love to not have to work and at age 64 I don’t see how I will ever be able to retire.
The tiredness is from the pain, physical and psychological. I want to join programs that encourage me to take my new puppy for a walk in the park. I love nature. I want to take art and sculpting. I want record my little songs I wrote… just for myself. I want the children’s book I wrote to be published. And when there is a disaster I want to go help. Right now I want to live to do these things. These things are worshiping God, in my opinion. To look at all he has given us and admire it. To go to those who need help. To touch the lives of others. To take care of me, and …. I don’t know what else.