MADE TO BE BROKEN

Shaney Jackson~Troxel

AKA~AngelRage

“They were never made to be broken; those fragile dolls. One shattered, and the other bore the weight of it all.”

For Helen ~ With love from Shaney

I dedicate this book to you, Pally.

My friend, my touchstone, my confidante.

My last letter into the void where a life should have been.

My very soul.

No matter who you are. No matter what you are. No matter where you are. No matter if you feel as if you don’t deserve it. You will never again be completely alone. I feel as you do. Let me take some of your pain onto myself.

Simply close your eyes and picture the wind carrying some of that pain to a far away place. Like dandelion seeds; each seed you picture is a bit of pain and sorrow that you can let go of. Watch as it floats away so softly on the wind. Try to feel the cool breeze on your skin. Know, deep within yourself, that the wind knows where to take it. When you can no longer see the pain floating away on the wind; take a slow, deep breath, and know that I’ve got you.

I love you. It’s the least I can do for the gift you have given to me. You have taken on my burden; now I offer the same to you.

I will love you always Pally, and I will be grateful for you, until the absolute end of time.

Oh! And Debbie is a really nice lady. :)

AUTHOR’S DISCLAIMER: The stories in this book reflect the author’s recollection of events.  Some names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted.  Dialogue has been re-created from memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That is so cool, how that bit sounds so proper and stuff!

Now, I’m going to lay it out for you, in Shanesplain. I have no permissions for use of names. Some I changed, some I didn’t. Mostly because I don’t care. I can’t afford to care right now. I NEED THIS! Besides, we know this isn’t all of it. Right? (Heads up kiddies; always have a backup plan.)

Toy with me.

I’ve got a list.

Copyright © 2024 Shaney Troxel All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890

ISBN-10: 1477123456

Cover design by: Procured from local news.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

Contents Title Page Epigraph Dedication Copyright

Prologue

CHAPTER1: MOM & GRANDA

CHAPTER 2: HOW MY MOM DIED

CHAPTER 3: MY GRANDMA

CHAPTER 4: DAD’S PLANE

CHAPTER 5: NEW MOM

CHAPTER 6: TODDLER LIKE A ROCK STAR!

CHAPTER 7: BABY BIRDS

CHAPTER 8: EAST 13TH STREET

CHAPTER 9: MR. WILSON

CHAPTER 10: HOUSE WITH TWO FIREPLACES

CHAPTER11: MY SISTER’S KEEPER

CHAPTER 12: TUB POO

CHAPTER 13: DARK YELLOW HOUSE

CHAPTER 14: HELEN

CHAPTER 15: LITTLE WHITE HOUSE

CHAPTER 16: GOODBYE BABY SHANEZ

CHAPTER 17: REBIRTH

CHAPTER 18: OTTUMWA, IOWA

CHAPTER 19: GRADE 6

CHAPTER 20: HOUSE ON OTTUMWA STREET

CHAPTER 21: RED HAIRED MIDGET GAVE ME A BEAT DOWN CHAPTER 22: ANTHONY

CHAPTER 23: THE HOLE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

CHAPTER 24: TEENAGE GRAVES AND FIRST BOYFRIENDS

CHAPTER 25: LOOKING FOR TWO OF US

CHAPTER 26: SOMEPERVYDUDE

CHAPTER 27: GOAT ROPERS

CHAPTER 28: THE GIRLS HOME~KEOKUK

CHAPTER 29: I DESERVE ANY HELL I GET

CHAPTER 30: ARMY & HOSEBAG

CHAPTER 31: SKIDMARK

CHAPTER 32: POST BOOTY CALL

CHAPTER 33: MARRIED WOMAN

CHAPTER 34: THAT SHIT AINT NORMAL!

CHAPTER 35: EMERY~ THE BEGINNING OF US

CHAPTER 36: OUR BABIES

CHAPTER 37: THE INTERNET

CHAPTER 38: WELCOME TO MICHIGAN & CANADA!

CHAPTER 39: ABOUT BOB

CHAPTER 40: THE SHANE-A-LING & BITCH BE BAILING CIRCUS!

CHAPTER 41: WHAT GOES UP….BIG D

CHAPTER 42: THEY DON’T GROW UP FAST ENOUGH

CHAPTER 43: THE MACHO-BRO MENTALITY

CHAPTER 44: DANCING WITH DEMONS

CHAPTER 45: GETTING MARRIED AGAIN

CHAPTER 46: UNEXPECTED SAVIOR

CHAPTER 47: LOUD OBNOXIOUS PISS FILLED BIRTHDAY

CHAPTER 48: WHAT-IFS  & ATTAINABLE SKILLS

CHAPTER 49: IT’S DECIDED

PROLOGUE:

SELL YOUR PAIN AND FTW THAT GAVE IT TO YOU! I am considering having that put on a bumper sticker or something. Lmao!

If you’re buying this book, expecting a polished, professional, choreographed story; DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK.

If you know me and have burned me, do us both a favor and DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK.

If you already bought this book; and either of the two statements above apply to you; I respectfully suggest, you turn your happy ass right back around and keep on walking because you will not be getting a refund.

I can’t get a refund on this 5 million piece emotional collision, so you don’t get one either.

So; walk.

Just do it. Mostly because I don’t want to hear about you whining afterward. You call me a liar and I catch wind of it? (Pray that I don’t.)

I will dig until I find proof and I will take it public like a MF. I know I will. I’ve seen me do it before!

DO-YOU-FEEL-ME??

I’ve got time….mhm; yep, I’m just kind of hangin’ out; waiting to die over here or whatever, because I think I’ve served my main purpose by writing this.

Life is not choreographed.

Life does not happen in order.

I don’t know how the brains of others work; but my memories aren’t chronological. My thoughts don’t come to me chronologically. I have no choreographer living in my head.

All I can do is write or type, as wave after wave of hellish memories, washes away a little bit more of me each time the tide comes in.

They refuse to come at me in order. They also give me zero control of them.

Nothing is ever that easy. If only it were, I might have a target but, as it stands; I do not.

The only people, other than your therapist, who will insist you let go of the past, or whine about you living in the past; are often the ones who jacked up your past, in the first place! Now, they’re hanging around, judging you for it.

See, what they don’t want anyone to know is that, it’s not my past they don’t want to face; it’s their part in it.

That’s the real secret.

The realio dealio, right here folks!

I’m certain that the following scenario will sound familiar to the masses.

If I attempt to speak of my past, with family members, I get shut down. Told ya! Lol….

I ask you this; if you ignore the past, how does that help fix anything? How do you learn from your mistakes? From what experience do you guide your children? Our past is as important as our future because without our past, there is no future!

Well, I’ve had enough of that crap.

The people who like to shut me down, are the same ones who hurt me.

If you know me, you should know that I will have the last word.

A dog with a bone, this bitch. I don’t let go.

So, on that note, let’s take all the BS that has been said about me.

Let’s just walk that shit right out into the daylight.

I’m not afraid. I have nothing to be afraid of.

Do you?

Are you afraid that in the clear light of day, you might see that I have never been who you thought I was?

I’m not your victim. I’m not anyone’s victim.

Are you afraid that if I show everyone the real me, they’ll see the real you? Lmao!

If that’s the case; you should be afraid because I know me better than you do and, I don’t trust me to shut the hell up.

(Best snooty voice) “The Shutting of the Up, is not to be found, within my vast repertoire.”

I will do my best to keep anger out of this and not attack anyone. However, I will be calling out some of the hell I have been through and who put me through it.

So, if you are one of those; this is your last chance to back away from this book! I won’t warn you again. And, you are quite welcome.

That warning shot is more than I ever got.

Now; I am so far beyond frustrated and; I don’t do frustration well. It likes to make my words and thoughts get tripped up in one another.

So I will start like this.

The majority of the BS I have had shoveled at me, my whole life, came from close friend and family females.

Yes, even though my largest losses came at the hands of males; it’s the females who swoop in to eat the scraps left over from whatever carnage I go through.

To be fair; I did warn you.

Men screw up sure; but they’re like huge dumb puppies that eat your brand spanking new house.

Lol, But just look at him! You know that big dumb ox didn’t mean it, he was just teething! Look at those big adorable puppy eyes! Awe, come on we can’t stay mad at him! Whose a good boy? Who is! That’s right buddy! It’s you! You are the best puppy ever! Look at that little guy!

Oh! Shit, (clears throat) sorry.

Females; they stalk their prey and eat their young. Not so cute. Unless, one of the young bites back. Then it gets significantly cuter; from the biter perspective, that is.

I would be that biter.

That being said; other than turning his back on me; when I least expected it, my dad has never hurt me intentionally; not ever.

Unfortunately, I would later grow up to walk away from my daughter like my dad did to me.

Most unfortunately, I have not had contact with her since. I will apologize for the outcome and for the price my daughter paid.

I own my part in all of it.

On that note; I am still her mother.

Guidance is my prerogative. As her mother, I feel obligated to point out to her that the choice was always, only hers.

I chose nothing that had to do with her, or her life. Only she made those choices. I can’t own what isn’t mine.

I simply respected them; as I continue to do today.

Back to my dad.

I got my ass beat just like the next kid. I don’t have a problem with that. Yeah, dad could get heavy handed but honestly, that wasn’t uncommon back in the day with most families.

Mom however, I can’t say the same about; but I will say that, when she was most needed, she was right there for me.

Unfortunately; although I really wanted to be the exception to the rule; I would later grow up to be almost as vicious and violent in my actions toward my son, as mom was with me.

I can never make up for that. I have no excuses because none exist for my behavior.

I apologize with unfathomable sincerity and the deepest of love.

All that I can do, is live with my shame and try to make the best of whatever life I have left.

I know nothing I ever do or say can ever make up for anything I’ve done and I accept whatever punishment that comes.

Bring it on.

All of that, though, are just bits.

That’s not the point of any of this. The point of this; all of this; is, well, everything really.

Everything that has made me who I am. What I am.

Everything, I put on these pages.

It’s gotta go somewhere rather than inside of me.

You gave this dumpster fire to me and now it has to get the hell out of me!

I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I can’t do it anymore.

I don’t want to and I never should have had to do this to begin with!

(SLOW GIRL. Take slow, deep breaths)

There will be no exceptions.

Before I see the end of me; I am going to give all of my kids the only worthwhile thing I have ever had to give anyone.

Honesty.

There’s not a single thing you can do or say to stop me or to discredit me.

Not a damn thing lolol!!

Do you wonder why?

Do you wonder why now?

Let me just clue you in. Okay?

OK class, get out you pencils and paper for taking notes.

This all works best, you see, if I spend as much time possible, just letting you, be you.

Then when the appropriate time arrives, i.e. when you let your slip show one too many times, I simply produce the truth.

(Some sort of cinematic triumphant music here please)

Then, as all the puzzle pieces start clicking together for, well pretty much everyone; the honesty of my words will be seen for the unassailable truth they speak because…... (Deep inhalation).......that’s how I roll!!!

Ta-Dah! 100% GENUINE AUTHENTIC HONESTY ALL AROUND.

For future reference, if you play games with a person; it would behoove you to make sure that you fully understand who you’re playing with.

Nobody made sure who I was and now; well, it’s just too little, too late.

When I finish, and you tally up all my horrors, sins, and atrocities; only then, can you work with an accurate account, instead of making it up as you go.

Add up my BS and add up yours. Stack it all up. Go on now, it isn’t as if you don’t do so all the time anyway.

If mine is larger, please, continue as you were.

If not?

Respectfully; STFU.

No.

Seriously.

Just, SHUT THE FLUFF UP. (For the text challenged.)

Choose a new topic or find a new hobby.

Do literally anything, other than put my name in your mouth, mixed with your negativity.

I know, I know, I’m asking the impossible, but a deal is a deal.

So, what do you say?

Wanna play with me?

I bet you will.

I don’t think you’ll be able to stop yourself.

Not that I can blame you; because even I am curious to see what kind of mess will come oozing out.

It’s anyone’s guess, for sure.

So, I am thinking that we might need an agreement.

A kind of, ‘I really don’t expect this to cover my ass but I still feel like it needs to be said’ agreement lol!

If you are still reading this, then you have already been informed that I am likely to piss you off in a way that closely mimics the detonation of a nuke, and you are cool with that.

I am going to accept your agreement.

Especially if you are still reading this exact sentence; this far, into this crazy long prologue….keep following along for the particulars.

(Microphone squelching ~ Tap-tap Hello? Is this thing on?* Throat clearing)

ATTENTION DEAR READER:

By purchasing this book and reading its contents, with no coercion from myself or anyone involved with me; I suspect that any rational mind would view that action as a positive indicator of your agreement that I can and have written my truth and released it for public enjoyment and you are also cool with that!

Especially after you read my advice to not buy this book, yet you bought it anyway.

Boiled down, you bought it. It’s on you.

If you take issue with the contents of this book, maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but thank you for your purchase.

Rationale can get so slippery sometimes, right? Ok, with all that nonsense out of the way; let’s rock!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome to my twisted, whacked out, jacked-up world!

In my mind, I have written down my life a billion times. Each new wave or chapter rolls around, and I find myself replaying events in my mind in an attempt to make sense of it all.

My existence feels like an impatient parent in the grocery store, dragging a toddler (a.k.a., me) through a life I don’t understand; toward a future I want nothing to do with.

I have started and stopped so many lives that it’s sometimes hard to keep track of it all.

Look, I don’t know the first thing about writing and publishing a book.

But the “me” that I have allowed people to think I am? That isn’t me.

That’s just a mere whiff of my fragrance. Nothing more.

Before I leave this world, I intend to tell (or remind) anyone who cares; exactly who I have always been.

I’d rather rot in Hell than let so-called friends and family rip me to shreds before feeding it to my kids.

Their opinion of me is less than favorable. Except for my dad.

My dad loves me and will forever and I know this because I can feel it and I love him too, more than I can explain.

It’s not important for me to understand anything else about him.

He is my dad, he loves me and I love him. It’s the most perfectly simple thing in the world.

I do wish he would stop letting the felines feed him so much BS, and getting him all worked up over nothing though.

Now; I just want to wind up this life with 100% honesty and be done with it.

Hence me being mega pissed if I get called a liar. (Not that I would ever expect anything less.)

Disown me if you must. I can get onboard with that.

Cut down the inheritance, that I never wanted, down to 10% if that makes you feel like you are in control of me.

You do, whatever helps you to sleep at night.

It isn’t the money that pisses me off and yet makes giggle like a loon.

It’s the freakishly funny AUDACITY! OMG Dad lol quit it. Lol, just stop it hahaha!

I AM A GROWN ASS WOMAN WITH GROWN ASS KIDS and YOU have the AUDACITY to think you have ANY control of me?

I don’t even have control of me! Lol!

Bwahahahahahahaha! No freaking way!!!

Omglob I love my dad.

Has NOBODY been paying attention??? ROFLMMFAO!!!!!

Did ya eat paint chips as a child? Did ya live beneath power lines? Was ya dropped on your head? Is ya THICK?

You people have not controlled ANYTHING about me since I walked out that door the first time and you damned well know that is fact.

But you’re so freaking adorable!!!

Maybe next, you can put me in time-out or tell me I’m grounded. Lol ‘No MTV for a week young lady!!’.

Lmao, that scenario is so far removed from the discipline I received in our house! Lmao!

I can’t help but wonder; do you suppose Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents disciplined him like that? Taking away his MTV? Calling him ‘young man’? Grounding him for a week?

If so; well, that explains almost everything!

Because, what he may have truly needed instead; was my dad’s foot up his ass!

My ass, is where my dad’s foot spent most of it’s time in the‘60’s, ‘70’s as well as a good share of the ‘80’s and I don’t remember ever wanting to ingest human flesh. So, I guess it worked on me!

To be honest, I don’t have it in me to look to my parents or anyone else for a handout. That is what it would feel like to me.

Taking money from my parents after I am grown and am able to fend for myself??

How would that NOT be taking advantage of them? Letting my parents foot my bill for anything ever after I am grown, would just be pathetic and I can’t ever be that person.

Even thinking about it kind of makes me feel sick to my stomach. What a weird reaction, lol. For real though; I’d rather live under the Market Street bridge again and starve to DEATH than take anything from them.

As for my parents.

I firmly believe that attempting to raise me was, a more than sufficient gift to me.

Thank you very much.

If they did leave me money, after everything I have been through due to the actions of my family? After everything I have lost?

How much do you suppose my entire existence is worth?

I am guessing, it’s not much.

It would feel more honest if they sent their lawyer right to my house. That way, he could just leave my 10% on the night stand; as protocol dictates in these kinds of situations. Lmao, right?

I have never given any thought about inheritance until I was told mine would be cut down to 10%! Lolololol

Money from my parents? I never needed nor wanted their money! I have never asked my parents for a single penny. Not once ever.

I don’t want anything that I haven’t worked for or earned. I am not my parents’ employee therefore they owe me nothing and that is exactly what I want from them. Nothing because nothing is owed.

Everybody needs to just chill the fluff out.

All that is required of any of you, is to, just TRY to be my parents/siblings, and FFS; do try to kill the catty drama because I’ve always known how you are. I just didn’t care enough to call you out on it because it’s been played out for so long that now, I just feel embarrassed for you.

Seriously, I’m not being mean. I’m trying to help you, help yourself. When you get like that, it is so obvious and it makes you seem petty and childish and it’s embarrassing!

I know you think your feelings are subtle and nobody else sees them but they aren’t subtle. They are slathered all over the front of you, for all the world to see. They are loud and bordering on obnoxious.

Now, watch me work. wink

Did you just read that crazy statement above?

Did it strike a nerve in you?

Was it kind of like a nuclear missel strike?

If so, you might need to take some time for some, SELF-REFLECTION.

If it hit you that hard without you being mentioned by any sort of name, and you are convinced that I am talking about you; I probably am.

Sounds to me like, that guilty conscience knows you been doing some shady shit.

That will be my ongoing theme throughout this entire book! I type and you all get to figure out if I am talking about you! Doesn’t that sound like fun??? Sure it does! Roflmao!!!

This serves a dual purpose.

First, it keeps you all as confused as I normally am.

Second, I still get to speak my truth.

See? It’s totally a win-win! I don’t have to openly attack anyone yet I still get to call them out for their bullshit and they still get the guilt trip they deserve!

That is, if they are still able to feel guilt or anything at all.

Damn it I really do love a good sati--- wait, I mean, cereal. I love a good cereal. Yeah…...Captain Crunch Creativity juices are flowing at full capacity! whew! I almost said satin! yep

My friends and family femes are like angry, wet cats lolol.

Not you Sammy.

My kids are excluded from this bit, as I will mention them by the names we gave to them at birth, when referring to them.

Although I love these ladies, in my immediate friends and family group; I can’t keep living like this.

Mostly because you guys really SUCK! A LOT!

If I don’t give you a reason to act bitchy and superior, you have to go and create something!

My dad is completely oblivious to all of it; he’s just happy go lucky, going day by day. He is perfectly happy with head in sand and I’m finally, ok with that.

The femes though. I really have no idea what is happening there.

I do, however feel like it could be cured quickly with a firehose or maybe a nice taser.

Me? I have no fuggin’ clue wtf their problem with me is.

I have been purposely MIA since the early 2000’s.

Only thing I’m coming up with, is that it’s always been because I’m Judy’s daughter.

Well; that’s super sucky because I am pretty sure that isn’t going to change like; ever!

Lol so there’s that.

I will touch more on that later but we are going to need a lesson in empathy for those lacking, in the very near future, me thinks.

Anyway, moving on.

Ostracize me, or sit around talking smack.

Do whatever you need to do, but I am going to make sure that I say, why I am, who I am, and what I am so NOBODY ever has to take, only your word for it, ever again.

Clever, yes? Lol! I win!!! Nah-nah, nah-nah-nah! (blowing raspberries at you)

“Shaney is red hot~ You hoes is doin the squat!” That’s my little “Yay to me” cheer, there.

After that, I WANT OFF THIS FUCKING RIDE BEFORE IT KILLS ME!

Obviously, I have extreme trust and anger issues. Of course, these issues are completely unfounded and all of them only exist in my head. Lmao! Whatever.

I am going to start writing in this journal whenever I can, and maybe my story will just present itself.

I do want to state, before I go further, that everything I type here is 100% true to the absolute best of my knowledge and recollection.

Because these memories are mine; I can verify their factual nature.

PLEASE MAKE NOTE: If it is your intention to sue me for your part in my life, you may first want to look up the statute of limitations in your respective states for each and every type of child/adult abuse and neglect and how long said victim has to file charges or a complaint.

If it is your intention to sue me because you read something that hurt your little feels; please read the following statement from an attorney, in regards to the identities of the people in my memories and their portrayals in my book as well as the importance of their feels.

- Q: What if a person can figure out from the scenario that it is in fact them that you are talking about?

- A: Now, that said, truth is a defense to defamation. So, even a story that offends a person can’t be defamation if it is true. *

He also went on to say that the burden of proof lies with you so, good luck with that!

And mom thinks I never did my homework! Lol!

In the event that I remember something and put it in this story, and later, a new memory resurfaces proving anything in my story to be untrue, I will happily issue a public retraction, as that would be the right thing to do.

I know how crazy that sounds; but as you read, I do believe you will have a greater understanding of what I mean.

WILL YOU BE MY MOST TRUSTED FRIEND?

Now, because you are my journal, I will apologize in advance for dumping my train wreck of memories on you.

We are going to become very close, you and I, so you need a name. I think it will make it easier for me to talk to you.

Pally.

The nickname Pally brings up memories of endless summer days and the blissful freedom only felt by children.

That’s what I am going to call you. Pally.

I am so glad you are here with me because, I think that for the first time in my life, I need a friend.

Everything about this is hard, and I feel like it is only going to get worse.

Before I begin I want to thank you, for being here for me with no strings or personal agenda attached. That is a rare and precious thing for anyone.

I need to talk to you about my life.

My cursed life. I need help sorting it all out before it completely breaks me.

Omg, I feel like such a loser not being able to just buck up and deal with this quietly on my own. It’s just too much for too long, and I am so tired. I feel like it really could be the end of me if I keep holding it all in. That’s why I need you, Pally.

You are to be my touchstone through this mess. Please?

Along the way, you will get to know me more than I have ever let anyone before.

I will procrastinate, I will sleep instead, I will go off topic probably too often, I will make excuses for myself and loved ones, when I shouldn’t and declare my love for people entirely too often and too profusely; attempting to explain/excuse my putting the truth to print.

Expect me to use vibrant words and make inappropriate statements.

Because that is who I am. That is how I talk.

Not even in a book, will I be fake.

This is just us Pally. You and I hanging out, while I pour my life into your lap. Just as real, as real gets.

This entire endeavor is due to me needing someone to talk to.

Pally; I’m not ok. I’m really not.

I could go see a therapist; but that would mean, yet another person who gets to benefit from my misery. Somehow, that doesn’t sit well with me. I’m the one who has been miserable, abused, beaten, neglected, molested, bullied, manipulated, abandoned and used!

Haven’t I?

Yes, I have.

Damn skippy, I have!

I SHOULD BE PAYING ME!!!!! Not some therapist.

Seriously. No therapist lived my life; I did. I already have a general idea wth is wrong with me and I’m attempting to make some necessary repairs. Why should they get paid, to tell me that there is something broken inside of me? Well, duh! I already knew that!

Look at me, going all therapist on myself with no degree! Lmao! Nah man, I have to give a shout out to therapists. They literally take in and take on the weight of the world every day and still manage to come out the other end mostly okay! That’s some serious chutzpah! (Google it lol)

On the other side of that coin, if I pay someone, to attempt to fix me; where is the reckoning? Where is the accountability?

Am I to simply walk away quietly, assuming that fate will take care of it all for me? Should I believe that, what comes around, goes around? Should I have faith that they will get theirs in the end? Leave it all to Karma?

I don’t think so Scooter! This bitch don’t play like that. Not anymore she doesn’t!

I AM OWED & I WANT TO BE PAID WHAT I HAVE EARNED. I AM GOING TO SELL MY PAIN AND COMPENSATE MYSELF FOR THE PAIN INFLICTED UPON ME BY OTHERS!!!

Now, that sounds like a therapy I can get behind because to be honest; I’m older now. I’m not nearly as scrappy as I once was.

With Helen’s body being found and identified, maybe now I can finally relax and find myself some form of self forgiveness or comfort, after I finish here. Or maybe not, it’s hard to predict this early on.

I do know that I’m tired of living hand to mouth while dragging all of these heavy ass body bags around with me.

I just want to put my truth out there and make enough money so my husband and I can retire someplace warm, year round with an extremely quiet, unspoiled, patch of saltwater beach that I can get lost in daily. I would prefer to avoid snow because according to the painful burls now developing on my fingers, I have a world of hurt ahead of me and snow will compound that pain.

Anyway, that’s it.

That’s all I want from this life. That’s my bucket list.

To be warm, safe and comfortable year round with daily opportunity to go metal detecting and seashell collecting every day on a quiet little ocean beach anywhere on the planet. Sun, sand, salt water and quiet.

I just want to breathe.

I want to finally breathe and live for ME.

I don’t even need to be happy. It has been so long since I was happy, I’m not sure I would even know what to do with it if I felt happy again.

It sort of scares the shit out of me, if I’m being completely honest. That’s when bad stuff happens. When I’m happy.

I don’t know if I am capable of risking that.

I would really, really like it if I could learn to be safely happy though. I want to learn how to do this but I don’t know where to start.

That’s how I wish to wrap up my life.

I’m thinking maybe an old abandoned surfer shack somewhere or an old boathouse. A crumbling cliffside fortress or castle. Even an ancient watchtower.

Omg lol Any old run down shack on a saltwater beach will be perfect no matter the condition.

I want my last days to be spent adoring the planet. Getting lost in the clean vastness and blissful solitude so I might better hear myself.

Maybe I can be happy with just me. If I can, I’m very ok with that.

I think I could learn to love myself. Maybe.

I’m pretty handy with building and refurbishing and I love hard work so maybe I can find an old relic on a beach and make it beautiful again.

I have to be good for something. Don’t I? I need to hurry though, because instinct is telling me, the clock is ticking faster each passing day.

Pally; I truly do believe that you are absolutely the perfect person to help me with this. If you wouldn’t mind, that is.

Please Pally? Pretty please? I am not writing this book for the benefit of anyone other than myself and, I’m am not writing it to be aggressive toward anyone, even though it may read like I am.

That’s just because I have too many unspent emotions crowding inside. The time for pretending that I am ok, is over. I have never been ok.

By the end, I will sick it up.

It is scary for me but I swear to you, I will get this done.

My hope is that by sharing this with you, maybe it will help lighten the load I carry.

Pally; I don’t think that I am able to carry it anymore because it is so heavy and I have never been ok inside.

Maybe I am looking for forgiveness or redemption. Hell, maybe I’m looking for punishment! I don’t know anymore.

I have never really looked for anything for myself; at least not since I tried to dig up my dead dog. (later in story)

Maybe you will even keep me tethered , so I won’t float away and get lost in it all.

I feel selfish even typing that, and I’m sorry.

It makes me feel like I am using you, and maybe I am, but I need you desperately.

Pally, I need you to be my words because I just can’t say them out loud, no matter how badly they need to be said.

I took their voices long ago and I can’t make myself give them back.

You are to be my last letter to the void; where a life should be.

Nobody knows me.

I have never been ok inside. It’s important to me that maybe somebody, I have loved or who has loved me, will read this and finally understand why I am the way I am.

I don’t care if they like it or not, as long as they gain some amount of understanding.

I have nearly made myself insane trying to figure out what is wrong with me, that people can’t just love me without eventually trying to emotionally destroy me!

Also, how and why do I keep drawing them into my life? It must have all turned me into a terrible person, who has done the most heinous things, because I am positive that only my dog has truly loved me from day begin to day end.

I am not exaggerating, Pally. Only my dog.

I love you too, Jaxon Boo-Boo Stacey, Sweet, Sweet Honey Boy!!

Huh? Of course that’s his name!

Okay Pally, stop laughing at me! Lol, Yes, I know I am ridiculous but I don’t care. If you have never had a Maltese, you couldn’t possibly understand, lmao!

Again, Pally, thank you for letting me tell you my story. I promise I will do my best to keep the pity party and whining to a minimum.

I tried to tell my story to Jaxon, but he kept falling asleep or fetching his sock. So, I had to make up an imaginary friend.

You! Lmao!

Oddly enough, I am finding that I tend to break down my life by which house we lived in at the time of the event. I have no idea why I do this.

The houses themselves aren’t significant; only the events that occurred while we lived there.

Regardless, pulling forth memories that have been stored away and hidden on purpose is beyond difficult.

It is especially hard because I have a real talent for literally hiding events from myself. I bury them so deeply that I honestly forget they exist until something happens and I need them or something triggers them to resurface.

Then the hell of revisiting those memories begins, and each time is much more than revisiting a memory. It is reliving the event, and I bleed.

As I pull each one forward begrudgingly, I’m also dragging my feet and digging my heels in to keep them hidden. It’s like the cage match of my psyche. I’m not sure if I am supposed to be aware that I do this, but I am. I think I always have been.

I looked up this ability once, and it is called a self-induced fugue; or selective amnesia. It is a primal, usually instinctual, survival technique that allows us to cope with the unthinkable by blocking out traumatic periods or covering them up with something more pleasant and being hypervigilant of our surroundings. Kind of like survival mode, I suppose.

I cannot stress this enough; I have been in survival mode since I was 3 years old, if not younger!

Extracting these events or memories can sometimes be physically painful, even making me feel ill. I actually vomited in the bathroom before sitting down at this desk to start writing this.

I put that shit away for a reason, so having to bring it back up is like projectile vomiting poison or broken glass.

I know that I need to do this because; this morning, everything started to unravel, and I can’t stop it this time.

Everything that I had so meticulously boxed up, everything that I spent weeks burying so deep, started moving forward into my consciousness.

I hope I can survive this because it feels entirely too big. This is so much bigger than a simple memory. It feels like a mass or huge tumor, and I am trying to shove it out through the tiniest of holes in the mental dam I meticulously constructed so many years ago.

There is pain here. Real pain. It feels present, dark and nearly tangible. I am pretty scared of myself right now.

Memories are now flooding my mind, and I don’t think I can stop this.

The trigger?

Earlier this week, I got a message from my Dad, telling me that my cousin’s body had been recovered and identified.

Helen.

Her name was Helen, and she had been missing since the 70s. She was 15 years old and not only family; she was my friend. The shock of her being found and identified has had such a profound impact on me.

It feels like the earth shifted beneath me, and everything is tipped off-kilter. I’ve been having a hard time understanding my reaction to this news. I am absolutely devastated. I have been in tears for days now.

My question is this: why did that news start this dam break of memories in me? These memories are disconnected, repulsive, they feel bloody and filthy, like raw sewage. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of memories, I never wanted to see again!

If I can survive this, I will finally understand everything; I just know it, because this onslaught isn’t showing signs of slowing down any time soon.

That’s what scares me.

I will write more later. I am exhausted and need to rest.

Ok, I am on shaky ground about putting all of this in writing; because instead of just sitting down and doing it, I keep going outside to create “busy work”! That’s how I am spending today. I promise tomorrow I will try to focus better.

You do understand that you are to go through this process with me, yes?

Oh nobody told you about that part? That sucks but I’m not about to fire me because I don’t know anyone stupid enough to take my place so we are stuck, you and I.

My hijacked self-therapy partner!

Ok, more tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good Morning Pally! I hope you slept well. I am almost finished leveling our patio. I think one more load of fill dirt should do it. Then I need to lay the 12×12 paving stones and BAM! Finished! I am enlarging my patio so that my dog, Maggie, can do-the-do closer to the house. Maggie is getting too old now, and her hips make everything hard for her. My poor potato dog.

She is a blue heeler and English bulldog. Extremely confused dog; she doesn’t know if she should be herding or sleeping, and her body makes her look like a baked potato walking around on four corn kernels; her legs are so short! Ok, maybe her legs aren’t that short, but she is so thick that they look like it! In my attached garage, Maggie has her own home, complete with 2 air conditioners, 1 heater, multiple blankets, on-demand music and snacks, as well as a warming hut for winter and room service!

This dog lives better than I do, so I figure why break with tradition; I’m building her a private, outdoor floral bath house! It will be walled off using tree limbs that have been stripped and seasoned. It will be a wattle-style fence. I am considering painting the branches in different bright colors lol. Anyway, by late spring, Maggie’s bathroom walls and ceiling will be covered with fuchsia-colored morning glories. Or I may build her a run that takes her to a shaded area in the cool grass. Or maybe I will build both! With me, it depends on where the mood takes me.

I was half joking with my neighbor the other day about working hard being the way I fight my demons. Every day that goes by, this becomes more and more true. I still worry about what will be left of me after this is all gone.

I think the nightmares are coming back because I am waking up exhausted again. Bob (my husband) was telling me this morning, that I am back to throwing hands and feet at night if I am touched when I am sleeping. I hope this relapse is temporary.

I may try to use a good share of today just working hard outside and trying to get my thoughts in order. Sometimes, the memories come through so fast that it’s overwhelming. So I need to slow my mind and work my body, trying to develop a rhythm between physical work and mental work so everything will stabilize.

Another self-taught skill. I don’t know if it’s a skill exactly, but it works for me. After that, hopefully I will feel better moving forward.

I’ll be honest with you, Pally. I don’t want to do this. It’s that simple. I don’t want to fill in any memory gaps with anything. I don’t want to remember any of it. For the past week especially, I feel sick to my stomach at even the thought of writing any more of this.

That’s scary as hell for me because I’m left wondering if the reason I feel like this is because there are even worse memories in there??? Holy Hell! How could this get any worse?

Then the question; do I really want to know? I need to sort this out for myself because I do not understand my reaction to this. I have never been a coward, but this makes me feel like one. Maybe boxing everything up like I did, was a cowardly act.

I don’t know what to think anymore. This feels like a storm raging through me and all I can do is hold on.

I’m scared, so maybe I am a coward.

I am so not ok.

Every instinct I have is telling me that I damn well should be a coward RIGHT NOW!

I should stop and forget all this. I NEED TO RUN!

My mind is darting around like a scared rabbit trying to find a place to hide. RUN!

I need to get past all that and find my way into the clearing. RUUUN!

To do that means lots of hard physical labor. FUCK THAT! RUN!

So today, that’s my plan. No damn it! Just RUN!

I am going to work myself into submission and clarity and then I will be back after the longest, hottest shower ever.

Wish me luck, Pally; I think I am going to need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NO REST FOR THE WICKED. I took a nap after my shower.

Dreams… eating me alive. I sleep, but I don’t rest for any of it. It has been like that forever.

I wake up feeling like I just ran a marathon or fought on a battlefield. Each morning I wake up exhausted.

I know who killed her.

Helen.

I also know whose fault her death was.

I have been reeling ever since I remembered.

What makes it so much worse is that I know why she was killed.

Every day, since I was 10 years old, I’ve been hiding this from myself and everyone else. Choking, gagging, drowning in this secret poison.

Will you witness my confession, new friend?

Is it finally time to speak the truth?

Will you help me release myself from this burden?

Can Helen finally rest?

It’s my fault that Helen is dead.

I am completely to blame and it cost that girl; my friend; my blood sister, her life.

Nothing I do or say can ever fix this.

Nothing.

Oh, I apologize, Pally. I’m getting too far ahead of myself.

Please, allow me to start at the very beginning.

My name is Shaney, and this is my story.

MADE TO BE BROKEN

Chapter 1: Mom & Grandma

One of my earliest memories is of my birth mom taking me out to the front yard of her parents’ home in Des Moines, Iowa, to plant Easter lilies. I must have been 1 ½ or 2 years old.

I remember seeing my grandma standing in the doorway of the summer porch, wearing her white apron and a steel gray dress with a large brooch that sparkled in the morning sunlight. She was telling my mom that she didn’t think the lilies would grow outside and that they should be planted in a pot indoors.

Mom seemed irritated and said she was going to try it anyway. Then she turned to me, scooped me up in her arms, and hugged me tightly, nuzzling her face against the side of my neck, tickling me. She said, “We are going to just try it, aren’t we? Yes we are!” and started giggling and nuzzling me, making me giggle.

She felt warm, soft, and safe. Mostly, I remember being so tiny and looking up at my mother’s beautiful face.

I adored her. She was my entire world, and I loved her so very much. It was warm that day but not too hot.

Mom sat me down on my tiny lawn chair and turned her attention to the large bag of soil leaning against the house. I watched my mom ready the flower pot. She kept glancing back at me, giving me a wink or a smile.

The sun sparkled through her shiny dark hair, and she had a mischievous light in her eye as she smiled at me. She had a tiny dimple on one side of her chin when she smiled big. I loved her so much, and I knew that I was loved as well.

Right now, I am remembering her fragrance; oh my goodness! She smelled amazing all the time, and it took me forever to find her fragrance. She wore White Shoulders.

I remember days of the two of us, sitting in the backyard of my grandparents’ house, at my tiny picnic table. Sharing a sandwich, or sitting on the tiny benches beneath the rose arch listening to Mom read, ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’ to me.

Mom would sometimes sit in my sandbox with me for what felt like hours, and we would build castles or drive Tonka trucks and mom would tell me stories or sing a song to me. We took turns burying one another’s hands and feet.

My Mom played with me all the time. Often times at twilight, Mom, Grandma and Grandpa would sit out in the summer porch with me.

Mom would lift me up onto her lap and she would brush my hair slowly and softly. She would plant kisses close to my ear and it tickled. She would whisper love to me, so close to my ear I can almost still feel the warmth of her breath on the side of my neck.

Mom, Grandma and Grandpa would talk about the stars, constellations and men on the moon. That was my world.

My perfectly happy, safe world. Sounds simple I know but, I am honestly not hard to please. I have never required much.

Chapter 2: How My Mom Died

As the story goes, my mom and a friend of hers, Cookie (Shirley was her name, from Mitchellville, Iowa), were out with a couple of brothers named Manning from Grimes, Iowa.

My mom was supposed to stop and pick up my Aunt Velveeta. (My dad’s sister) However, because my aunt wasn’t ready in time, my mom went on without her. Mom was driving my dad’s car. My Dad was overseas in Germany.

Judging from the direction the car was heading, I think she may have been driving Cookie home. She took the corner entirely too fast.

This happened in what is now Johnston, Iowa. At that time, there was no town at that location. Presently, there is a large open lot and a sign welcoming you to Johnston, Iowa, at the accident site.

The car flipped over at least twice, ejecting one boy from the car, who was, according to the news article in the Des Moines Tribune, cut in half at the waist by a utility guide-wire.

That poor fellow had only just returned from war, one month prior. The other brother was also thrown from the car and survived but suffered serious injuries, including broken bones and a concussion. My mom and her friend were both burned alive, as the car had caught fire and they couldn’t get out, due to the doors being damaged.

According to the news article I read, a lawyer lived nearby and called in the accident.

The women couldn’t be removed until after the flames were extinguished. I have spent the better part of my life wondering if they were being followed. My mom took that corner at more than 100 miles an hour. The car then skidded over 600 feet before hitting a pole; then it continued skidding another 600 feet. Drunk or not, a person would have to have a death wish to even try taking a corner at that speed! I don’t believe that my mom had a death wish. It seems to me like she was just out having fun with friends.

So I ask you; who was following my mom and why? Granted, it was 4:50 am. Maybe she fell asleep at the wheel, but did all four of them fall asleep? Nobody spoke up and said, “Hey, we are going really too fast!” Or “Slow down!”? My gut tells me that something about this just isn’t right, but I guess I will never know for sure.

This much I do know for a fact: It’s time to unpack EVERYTHING.

Mostly because EVERYTHING has started unpacking itself.

The weight of it all has been nearly unbearable all this time, and now I think it is okay to unpack it and let it all go. It’s not as if I have a choice at this point, Pally, because it just keeps coming, and I can’t stop it now. I’m scared.

I hope everything will be okay after it’s all out of me, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything about myself anymore. Every time I think about her accident, I get this itchy spot in my mind that tells me that maybe there’s more to it. There’s something I am missing. Or maybe I’m bonkers. Ha-ha! Who knows, Pally? I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore. I intend to find out if there is anything to find out.

This would be much easier if her accident report or autopsy existed. However in Polk County, Iowa, no official record of her accident exists anywhere other than the newspapers. If it turns out that there is nothing to it and I am just paranoid, cool! I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bonkers.

Unfortunately for you Pally, you are about to learn how I’ve earned that right. I hope my life from birth to 3 years old was uneventful because it would be about the only time that it was. My entire existence has been one long episode of me leap-frogging from one patch of insanity to the next, while trying not to fall in and get it all over me. It’s not as if I was never, ever happy. That’s not the case at all. It’s more like everything has always had this shadow looming over it. Giving off this vibration or energy like an electrical storm that is winding up. It’s not a sound so much as a feeling.

As if the universe isn’t quite finished testing me just yet; it’s just getting warmed up. It keeps me on edge. Anticipating. Dreading. It gives me a beautiful life, or rather it allows me, or someone else to build one, then the moment I am well and truly happy; poof! Gone.

Everything ~ Just Gone. I don’t even have to do anything wrong! That’s how it has always been. I imagine it always will be. I’m going to take a break now, Pally. Reliving my own life has become a bit much even for me.

But I’m going to write this story, and maybe tomorrow I will tell you why I have to do this. Maybe.

Today is overcast, and maybe that has put me in a funk. I find my thoughts turning to darker times than I want to deal with today. I never want to deal with them on any day, but I know I need to. I’m sorry, Pally, but I just feel so melancholy about most everything today. I need to regroup, find the beauty, and set myself right. Then I will be able to talk with you in a more productive fashion.

Today, I’m so sorry, but I just can’t. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: My Grandma

After the death of our mother, Dora and I stayed in the care of her parents. This made sense because we had lived there for most of our short lives. That was home to us. Well, it was home to me, meaning I would remember it as home. Our home. My home. A place where I belonged and fit in perfectly like a puzzle piece. My safe, happy place. I loved my grandma more than anything in the whole world, and losing her still hurts like hell. I loved my grandpa too, but Grandma and I spent all day, every day together.

Thinking about her brings back so many sensations! The smell of ivory dish soap. Jergens lotion. Mr. Bubbles. Juice in tiny tin cans.

The fact that I was a complete brat to her and she loved me anyway. She really, really did love me so much!

Each morning when Grandma woke up, she had to search the house for me. Often, I could be found sleeping in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink, behind the sofa, or in some tiny cupboard somewhere. Although, I switched it up one morning, and she found me sleeping on the kitchen floor with my upper body in her freezer. Her freezer was at the bottom, and the door swung open. Grandma had a ton of white almond bark in there, and I had gotten up in the middle of the night, plowed through that frozen candy, and fell asleep in the freezer with the door open!

Grandma used to take me to the circus at Vet’s Auditorium, and she took me to a museum, a ballet (The Nutcracker), and an art gallery. I can recall many nights looking out of a car window as Grandpa was driving us back home, and seeing that big red umbrella all lit up in the sky in downtown Des Moines. I also recall when the capitol would turn on the colored lights in that huge fountain. It seems to me that many families gathered on the lawn of the capitol in the evenings to see this. I also remember Grandpa driving us to the railroad so I could see the trains. I loved the caboose! That has always been my favorite car. I remember playing in Resthaven Cemetery, talking with my mom and feeding the swans there.

My grandparents taught me many things about swans, like how they return each year and that they mate for life.

My grandparents never criticized me for talking about my mom but down the road; it would become just one more thing to hate me for and I believe it eventually cost me my grandparents.

I also remember the rides to these places. When I went places with my grandma, I would always wear my little white gloves and either a hat or a scarf on my head. Grandma always put me in a precious little dress, ankle socks with lace, and my shiny white Mary Jane dress shoes with short heels that made a clicking sound when I walked. I loved making that clicking sound! I remember feeling very grown-up when I was dressed this way. I felt pretty and special. Grandma said on outings I had to behave ‘lady-like’ and have good manners. We would take a yellow cab, and sometimes those cabs would have spinning bar stools in the back, as well as a backseat! I would make myself sick spinning on those.

I was happy with my grandparents.

One time, my grandpa filled his whole driveway with sand, and I had the biggest sandbox in the world!

I also remember a time when I didn’t get my way, so I went outside and used a rock to break the glass on the basement door. Lmao! My grandpa gave me a whack, and I didn’t do that again!

I was physically punished by my grandparents once each, and both times I had it coming, lolol. I could be a rotten little brat!

When Halloween rolled around, my grandparents would dress me up and give me a pillowcase. Then Grandma would walk me out the front door and tell me to go knock on the back door. By the time I walked around the house and knocked, my grandpa would be at the back door, grinning broadly. Grandpa would ask me to tell him a joke, do a little song, or dance, lol. Afterwards, Grandpa would fill that pillowcase with candies!

They were wonderful people who never let me forget that I was loved. They were filling the void left behind by my mom’s death. My grandparents were my safe place. Home. I very much needed that.

CHAPTER 4: DAD’S PLANE 1970

I don’t know how long after Mom’s funeral it was before my dad returned on an airplane. I just remember that I had no idea who he was. His face and voice were foreign to me. I was afraid of him because he was a stranger. My dad served in the Vietnam War for the Army, and at that time, he was stationed in Germany.

My mom, my baby sister Dora, and I lived with my mom’s parents in Des Moines, Iowa. I was three years old, and Dora was brand new, having been born that February. As I understand it, Mom was getting our passports ready, and we were supposed to move to Germany to be with my dad. However, it seems that even though she had started the process, my mom wasn’t crazy about this idea.

She had told my grandmother that my dad had changed since being in the service and he wasn’t the same man that she married. She intended to file for a divorce.

The divorce part I learned from my dad’s sister, Velveeta. I have very little first-hand information. I only know stories that various family members have told me over the years and bits I picked up by eavesdropping. I have always wondered: would life have been better or worse if we had gone to Germany to live with Dad? Would Mom be alive? Would I have been loved? Hated? Irrelevant? Abused? Ignored? Who knows? Regardless, that didn’t happen, and my mom was gone.

I remember the morning that Dad’s plane was landing. I remember too much.

It was dark outside that morning. The air felt sharp and damp. It had been raining, I think. Nobody said a word as we waited on the tarmac for him to step off the plane. I was kind of scared and was hiding behind my grandma’s skirt. She had to coax me out to say hello to him. I didn’t know him and was shy. I think that Dad scooped me up and hugged me anyway. I am fairly sure that Dad kissed my cheek and then laughed loudly when I wiped his kiss off my cheek with the back of my hand.

Or maybe I dreamed it.

Then, something terrible must have happened. I don’t know what happened between my grandparents and my father, but it must not have been good. My guess is everybody was blaming everybody else for Mom’s death. They were all hurt badly and needed someone to blame.

Had they continued to be a family and work together, they could have found out what really happened.

Sometimes, I’d rather everybody just blame me for everything ever, STFU, and just pretend to be normal human beings for once!

Within a very short time, my sister Dora and I were moved out of our home and into a home with complete strangers. I was so scared because I didn’t understand that my mom wasn’t coming back, and she only knew that I lived in Grandma’s house! How would she find me now?

Why was this happening?

I do remember, all too clearly, during one of the last visits that I had with my grandma, I was angry about having to go home, and I was crying. I looked up into that beautiful, kind face that I loved so much and yelled, “It’s because you don’t love me anymore!” My grandma gasped, then slapped me across the face, saying loudly, “Don’t you ever say that!” I could see it in her face when she realized what she had done, and then she broke down sobbing, pulling me tightly against her chest, kissing the top of my head, and rocking me.

She just cried and cried. I hate myself for that. I always will.

For that single action alone, I deserve every bad thing that has ever happened to me, as well as every bad thing yet to come. I owe all of that and more. I am a horrible person for that. I’m sobbing right now just thinking about how badly I hurt her. She loved me so damn much, and I would never be loved like that by anybody ever again in my entire lifetime.

CHAPTER 5: NEW MOM

On that day, my dad came to take us away from there. He put us in the car, and in the front seat, there was a pretty lady that I had never seen before, already sitting there. Mind you, this is the same year my mom died… like, within months. Dad told me that I was to call this lady, Mommy. I remember the lady told him, “No, she doesn’t have to call me that,” and Dad said, “Fuck that, we are married and you’ll be raising them, that makes you her Mom!” The lady just said nothing after that. I didn’t like any of this.

The next thing I knew, the strangers took me away from my grandparents and moved us into a trailer, if I remember correctly.

There are a few houses that remain vague to me, so I don’t know where they fit in, but I am trying very hard, Pally, to keep them in order. I think it was white. I think it was in this trailer where either my birth mom or my stepmom; one of them, put me into a child seat on the back of a bicycle. When she started to drive away, my foot got caught in the spokes and was cut up pretty badly.

It’s not clear to me at all because I don’t know where Dora was.

Because this is so hazy, I am tempted to think I kept it as a way to mark time in my memory. Outside of that, I see zero use for this memory. I do remember that whichever mom it was; she was very upset by this and took good care of me. I also remember that there was a parakeet at that trailer, and that little bird hated me! It would always land on my back and on my head and claw the hell out of me until one day it got tangled in my hair, broke a wing, and died.

Thank you, Karma. I also remember my dad getting wild seahorses for a fish tank at some point in time, but I think that was in El Paso, Texas, where Dora was born.

The bits and pieces that have clung to me are so random and seemingly insignificant that I’m not sure why I even have them, lmao!

CHAPTER 6: TODDLER LIKE A ROCK STAR!

I don’t remember which house this was in; maybe the one across from the Dairy Queen on University in Des Moines, Iowa.

Maybe it was because I also remember Dad stomping a peace sign in the snow in the front yard. At that house, the backyard had tiny, super prickly pine needles all over it, and in the spring, the entire yard was packed full of Lily of the Valley, my favorite flower. I also remember that in this house,

I had my first evening alone at home. I still remember Dad leaning in toward me and going over all of the safety rules while Mom paced nervously behind him, biting her lip as she paced. Nothing bad happened. Mom fed me before they left, told me where my snacks were, and said I could sleep on the sofa if I wanted to. So I ate junk until I couldn’t eat any more and watched TV until I fell asleep.

That never happened again while I was small, but it was fine. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t scared at all, and I felt very proud of myself.

Regardless, there was one morning, not long after moving away, we woke up early, my sister Dora and I. Actually, I probably woke her up, lol.

We went into the kitchen and pretty much emptied everything from the refrigerator and cupboards all over the kitchen floor! EEK! Ok, it was more like I emptied the refrigerator out onto the floor. The entire floor. I have to believe that I intended to make breakfast for our new mom… Haha! Or maybe I was trying to mother my sister Dora and was trying to feed her. Sure, that must be it! Because by the time Dad and his new bride located us, Dora was covered, head to toe, with every kind of food imaginable.

Regardless, I do remember the mess being way beyond a little bit impressive. I trashed that kitchen like a rock star in a hotel room! Eggs were broken everywhere, butter all over everything, milk, everything was dumped on the floor, and I think all over the counters too. Now it’s important to keep in mind that my stepmom was a roughly 21-year-old, brand-spanking new mom to another person’s toddler and baby! That was her choice! Lmao, Mom actually chose this! Mom, you wild thing, you!!

I have never known a more gutsy lady. It must have taken most of the day to clean up. I don’t normally do anything half-assed, and apparently, I never have.

Wait, except for dishes. I would not only half-ass dishes but also hide in the bathroom for ages to put off doing them! That used to drive my parents crazy, lmao! It was every night! lol, I still hate doing the dishes, and I have a dishwasher!

Anyway… In the morning, I would have to pee so badly, and I would beat on the door and yell and cry to be let out, but nobody would come for a very long time. I don’t think they could hear me over their fan. I was straight-up jealous of Dora for wearing diapers. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that I had tried to pee in her diaper and then put it back on her! Lmao! I do try to work with what I have on hand, lol. After several days of wearing pee-soaked nightgowns, I finally started to clue in. I started taking off my underpants, hiking up my nightgown, and then sliding my lower half under the bed to pee someplace out of sight that wouldn’t get my clothes wet.

I excel at improvising and adapting. I don’t really remember how long that went on, but I remember that room reeked! There was a definite nasty funk. Still, better than wearing it. lol Lol, what’s a girl to do, am I right?

CHAPTER 7: BABY BIRDS

The other day, I was thinking of this time right after my dad remarried. We lived in a white house with a big yard and a clothesline. I was outside playing. It was cold that day, and the sun kept dipping behind the clouds, making the wind have an icy bite.

Anyway, I must have been around 4 years old, and I saw this squished bird by the curb. For some reason, I got it stuck in my head that these tiny white things I saw on this bird were eggs! So, I went inside and asked my new mom for a small box for these baby bird eggs.

Then I went back outside and began collecting them. Within a few minutes, a man was walking by and saw what I was doing. He asked me why I was picking them up. I told him that it was because I had to save these baby birds. T

hat’s the day I learned that dead things get maggots!

Yep, my dorky ass was out there collecting maggots from a dead bird.

Actually, looking back, I did all sorts of gross stuff, haha! I ate gum off the ground, like, all the damn time! No clue why. Ugh, I think I got some kind of worms from this… or maybe that was from not wearing shoes, I don’t remember for sure.

I was such a dorky kid. Well, I think I’m gonna get fluffy and go outside and see what kind of mess I can make.

CHAPTER 8: EAST 13TH STREET

A long day unpacking the house, and I am far too fluffy to unpack my head today. Let’s call it a self-health day, Pally! What do you say? Come get fluffy with me, Pally! I won’t tell anybody! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I am unpacking and redecorating my office While I work, memories are constantly flowing through my mind. They swim around each other, twisting and floating, making surreal patterns on the internal walls of my head. Some are crystal clear, and others, translucent mists coiling around the small girl in my mind, wrapping her in a protective shroud of the ghosts that she wears like a second skin.

I remember living with my stepmom’s parents on East 13th Street in Des Moines. This would have been just before I started school because I was living there when I started Kindergarten. I liked living with Grandma Marge and Grandpa Sonny. Grandma was a saint, and Grandpa was so funny! One time, Grandpa took me, David, and Shelly with him in his semi-truck to New York! I think I was asleep when we arrived in New York, though. I also remember that we got cookies and potato chips all over his spotless truck! Lol Neither one of my grandparents ever treated me or Dora like less than their own grandchildren!

The entire family just wrapped their arms around us and absorbed us as family. And that’s exactly who they always have been to us. Our family. While living in this house, we got two new baby sisters: Felicia and Karen! At a very young age, Felicia became seriously ill and had to be hospitalized for a really long time. She had lead poisoning.

She developed the lead poisoning by ingesting paint chips within the house we lived in. She was cutting her baby teeth and used to chew on the banister that led upstairs. She would go to the bottom steps and chew away like a tiny little beaver. She was in the hospital for what seemed like years.

Then, one day, she finally got better and was able to come home. I can’t even imagine the levels of hell that little girl and our parents must have been going through that whole time. They were incredible at keeping negative crap away from us kids while we lived at this house.

Then there was the youngest of our sisters, Karen. I didn’t know it at the time, but one day, in the not-so-distant future, she would become my heart and soul, and I would become her protector.

Also, while living there, my stepmom had uterine cancer or cervical cancer, I can’t remember for sure, but she had to have surgery.

I was scared the whole time she was gone that she wouldn’t come back, just like my other mom. Everyone kept saying that she would come home soon. I didn’t believe any of them.

On the day that Mom did come home, I was so happy I think it made me cry. When Mom (because that’s who she is now, Pally. She is my Mom) came home from the hospital, she showed me her incision spots, and they looked like a smiley face! I think maybe that was the first day I completely decided that she was my Mom and I didn’t want to be without her or my Dad.

I do remember that Mom didn’t want me to be scared, and that’s why she showed me the marks. My stepmom loved me enough to want to ease any fears I might have had. Nobody had done that for me since my first mom died.

Sometimes, tiny moments like that are the moments that carry us forward and through harsh times. Because it’s these tiny moments that prove you are loved, at least at that moment, and these tiny moments can be so much bigger and much more powerful than even huge moments of harshness or conflict.

These tiny moments are sometimes too few and too often overlooked, and I feel that leads to depression and worse. Watch for those tiny moments and hold them close because they are the most precious and far too easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention. Don’t ever let them go. Sometimes 5 seconds of kindness can heal decades of harshness and pain if you let it.

Tiny moments of kindness are that powerful.

One holiday, I think it was Thanksgiving, at our great-grandparents’ house (stepmom’s grandparents) in Des Moines, I had done something bad and got into trouble. Dad sent me into the guest bedroom and told me to take a nap, and he would come for me when it was time to go. To bed without supper was the plan.

This was a common practice of the time, and missing one meal never killed anyone, Pally, so I was okay with this. However, that has never stopped me from throwing a huge, loud crying fit! Lol! If we had a family newsletter, the headline would have read something like, ‘Angry tot brings Hell to Thanksgiving!’ Lmao Yep, I likely deserved that! Ha-ha!

Anyway, it was almost completely dark outside when I heard the bedroom door creak open. I pretended to be asleep, but Mom knew better. Lol She was sneaking a cookie in to me!

I always knew she loved me, and I have always loved her too. I don’t think she believes that, though, no matter how many times I try to tell her or show her. I wish she understood.

Maybe you can help us with that, Pally. Maybe through you, I will be able to find the right words that will fix everything. Fat chance of that! Lmao! No pressure though, Pally! Ha-ha!!

Mom always knew about those tiny moments and how important they are. She also always seemed to know when I needed them most, and when I did, she was always right there. That’s why I chose to love her and to do my best to be her daughter. It’s also why I was glad that she was my Mom. Always.

My dad didn’t waste any time finding us a new mom after the first one died. I’m glad that luck was on our side because he brought home the perfect mom and the perfect family for us. In life, as long as good outweighs bad, you are blessed. In this home, I learned what “dead” was and what it meant for me.

CHAPTER 9: MR. WILSON

Our poor, sweet, patient neighbor. In hindsight, Mr. Wilson was the very first adult who spoke to me like my thoughts and feelings had value. Like it was alright even to have feelings.

Adults back then didn’t talk to kids like that, lol. It was a different time. Besides, my folks had their hands full, to be sure.

He also spoke to me directly as he would an adult. He looked me straight in the eyes, and in doing this, he sent me the message that he felt that I was intelligent enough to understand what he was saying to me. That got my attention every time he spoke to me from that day forward because nobody had ever spoken to me that way before. He was patient and unbelievably kind to me.

We had a wiener dog named Spook (he was named when we got him). One day, Spook got hit by a car and died. My dad buried him in the backyard by the garage.

The first chance I got, I was back there trying to dig him up. Mind you, my mom dying was still recent to me. I was thinking that if I dug up Spook and he was okay, well then, my mom must be okay too! So I was going to find a way to go get my mom back! That was my big plan.

I hadn’t turned five years old yet but would the upcoming November.

While reading over my musings, it occurred to me that there is a need for an explanation here. I was not allowed to talk about my mom. Ever. That’s just the way it was. Grown-ups would get mad if I mentioned her, and I would get into trouble. This didn’t make sense to me, but getting in trouble sucked, and after a while, it just became normal. It didn’t need to make sense. It’s just the way it was. Needless to say, grieving the loss of my mom wasn’t even an option.

Nothing was ever about how I felt about anything. “YOU HAVE TO LET IT GO.” I was expected to let go of my mom forever at three and a half years of age! She had only been gone a short while! How does a child trade in parents? How is this even marginally normal??? But eventually, that’s just what I did!

My stepmom had become just Mom. As for things not making sense to me? In the future, I was to learn that there would be a vast number of things that were not to be spoken of and even more things that would never make sense to me. I would also learn that there would be a great many things that were anything but normal.

Not that it matters to anyone but me, it would seem. Again, I was such a dorky kid. However, I was a determined little dork!

So, there I was with a stick, spoon, or whatever I could find, just digging away when Mr. Wilson stepped outside and saw what I was doing. I’ll bet he was freaking the fluff out, lol, seeing this dorky little white girl digging up her dead dog! Hahahaha! Just imagining his initial reaction makes my sides ache from laughing! Anyway, he came over and asked me what in the world I was doing, and I told him the truth.

Pally, I swear that as long as I live, I will never forget the way Mr. Wilson looked down at me. He looked like his heart had just broken a little bit. I felt so sorry for telling him the truth when I saw his face. I was afraid I’d said something bad. I liked Mr. Wilson and I didn’t want to do or say anything that would hurt his feelings. I was immediately flooded with shame and regret.

Mr. Wilson cast his long shadow over me as I sat there in that dirt. I squinted up at him, and because the sun was behind him, to me it looked like he was glowing. Mr. Wilson looked like an angel to me.

Maybe he was on that particular day. Maybe that’s just exactly what he was.

To me, this was a sacred day, and until 2023, I had never before spoken of it. Instead, I dragged that day with me throughout my entire life.

It warmed me when I was alone and freezing. It found my strength when I couldn’t find it for myself. When I was lost and alone, that day would whisper in my ear, telling me that it was okay to have hopes and dreams because I was never alone.

That day always reminded me that I was okay, even if I didn’t feel like I was.

I often wonder, if that kind, gentle man had any idea of the impact he was having on that dirty little 4-year-old girl on that hot summer day.

Mr. Wilson took a long deep breath and let it out really slowly as he sat right down in the dirt with me. Now he looked like Mr. Wilson, but he was sitting in the dirt.

My mom was the only grown-up who ever sat in the dirt with me before. From the moment Mr. Wilson had approached me, I was captivated. He had my complete attention. He locked eyes with me, and he looked more than sad. He looked soul-deep tired sitting there, looking at me.

I sniffed my dirty running nose and watched his eyes carefully. Suddenly, he closed his eyes and slowly brought both of his hands up, completely covering his face.

He rubbed for a moment before he slid his hands all the way down his face and let them drop into his lap.

Then he began talking in a soft, gentle voice.

Mr. Wilson told me that dead was forever. He told me that nothing could ever change it. He told me all the things that a good Christian man would do. He said that God took my mother home and that she was loved and happy. He even tried to explain to me why God needed her more than I did. He told me the most divine plans rarely make sense to us.

I listened to Mr. Wilson’s kind, gentle voice. I must have believed his words, at least to some extent. I spent many years going to various churches in an attempt to find the other end of this rabbit hole.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love my new family. I loved them dearly! I just wanted my own family back as well—my mom, grandparents, and even my uncle Curt (my mom’s brother).

I was slowly beginning to understand that was never going to happen.

Mr. Wilson gave me a tremendous gift that day, even if he didn’t know it.

Because of this talk, I would be able to let go of trying to find my mom and be more of a normal girl with two parents.

(I would NEVER let go of my mom, and that NEVER should have been expected of me or of any child.)

Mr. Wilson gave me permission to be happy without her. If I spent a thousand lifetimes trying, I could never repay him.

God, on the other hand…that was going to be a problem, because that day I decided I wasn’t a fan of his work.

I decided right then and there that God and I were gonna have words, and mine were going to be ugly.

He stole my mom, and now I couldn’t get her back.

This meant war!

However, it would be many, many years before I realized just how angry I was with God.

On a lighter note, this was also the house we lived in when my Uncle David and I let his sister Shelly talk us into playing cowboys and Indians.

The three of us were oddly close in age and were always getting into some kind of trouble. David and I were cowboys, and Shelly was the Indian.

To be clear; we were idiots.

We let her tie us to a willow tree trunk in our backyard. Then she went into the garage, got a HUGE half-full gas can, poured a circle around the tree, and lit it on fire!

_ Mhm, yes she did! And we let her!

David and I were only like, the best cowboys ever!!! Right?? Our silly selves just stood there, completely in character the whole time! Lmao!

Fire, seriously, blazing high all around us! IT WAS GLORIOUS!!!

I think Mr. Wilson is the one who found us and put it out, right about the time my dad and everybody else showed up on the scene. It’s a wonder we didn’t give that poor man a heart attack, I swear! I bet that to Mr. Wilson it must have seemed like a redneck carnival seven days a week just seeing the stupid stuff us kids used to get up to! LOLOLOLOL!!! Poor Mr. Wilson! Ha-ha!

Pally, I have serious doubts that any of us kids would have survived childhood if Mr. Wilson hadn’t been our neighbor!

Thank you, Mr. Wilson!! Also, thank you to his kids, Davey and Cricket, for sharing your dad with a bunch of kamikaze kids!

While at this home, I also had my first exposure to porn thanks to the old dude who lived at the end of the alley. That man threw out his ENTIRE Playboy, Hustler and Penthouse collection! I can testify that his collection was beyond impressive in size. I can also testify that every kid in the neighborhood hung out behind that guy’s house for most of that summer! Lol

Except for Davey and Cricket. Mr. Wilson, I swear they were nowhere around there! :)

While living on East 13th, things were pretty good! We had a large family all living together. I woke up each day looking forward to what the day would bring. In this home lived my dad and stepmom, both of my stepmom’s parents, as well as three of her sisters and one brother, plus my three sisters and myself. It was good. I was happy. I honestly think we all were happy despite the illnesses overshadowing everything.

My stepmom got me into Bluebirds. I think it was similar to Girl Scouts but maybe for younger girls? Anyway, our troop leader lived in a huge, stunning Victorian home, and she had pretty cool crafts. Then came the time to sell stuff to make money for the troop. We were selling nuts. Well, the other girls were… but not me. I was eating nuts!

Oh yes! I took those cans of nuts and picked through them until I couldn’t eat any more of them! Did I mention that I was also a royal pain in the ass? No? Well, I promise you that I was.

I even remember another time, same house, that I was sent to the store, and on the way back, I was walking down the alley and I saw a jelly doughnut in a trash can, and well, let’s just say that I really dig jelly doughnuts… Ha-ha!

That family saw me through their window and thought I was a homeless, starving child and called my parents! {I guess homeless, starving people had landlines back then? O.o} I had a shopping bag of groceries in my hand and they still thought I was homeless and starving! LMAO! Don’t judge, man, I was like in Kindergarten! Hahahaha!

Let’s see, what other kind of craziness did I cause… HA! Got it!! Road construction!!! OMG! I loved road construction! We would play hide and seek inside the tunnels and tubes that the workers left in the dug-out streets. Hiding in metal tubes, concrete tubes, and ditches. Inside the machinery and the partially made buildings. Then one evening, I found a backhoe that had the keys left in it!

(Please cue anticipatory music in the background) DUN-DUN-DUUUN!!! Hey now, Pally, lol! Don’t you give me that look!

I mean, what kid doesn’t want to drive heavy machinery??? Like, every kid in the history of, like, EVER!! Are you kidding me? Every kid I ever knew would have given up their best Pog or Babe Ruth baseball card to drive a backhoe! No way could we pass up a chance like that!

Go ahead, Pally, lol, act like you wouldn’t do it! So, I did it. Kinda. Well, I started it. I may have moved the bucket a bit. Or maybe a lot. I think I may have convinced David to do it as well, I can’t remember for sure. Look, the point is this: Most of the kids I grew up with were thinkers, and I was more of a doer (also a running theme). Besides, that backhoe was SOOOOOO big!!! You know I just had to do it, you get that, right? It was a freaking backhoe! Even today, if I find one with keys in it, I can’t promise not to play with it!! We used to swipe garden veggies from all the neighbors’ gardens and eat them dirt and all, lol.

I remember one time all the neighborhood kids went to play at this one house that had a spotted Great Dane named Bobo. That dog snagged me up as I was trying to leave the yard and shook me like a rag doll. Freaking Bobo! lol I also remember sitting in the waiting room while my mom told me all about the buckets of needles I would get in my stomach if Bobo had rabies. Scared the heck out of me! So now, my leg was leaking blood all over the place and I’m going to get 100 needles in my stomach?? Who does that? It isn’t as if the injury were my fault.

Luckily, I was to learn the answer to that repeatedly, until I got sick of it and disappeared.

Anyway, the point is that we were rowdy kids and I was no exception! We drank from garden hoses and played outside the entire day sometimes until well after dark.  We rode in the back of pickups and rode dirt bikes. We went fishing and we learned about sexuality, fireworks, and I learned how to clean fish. It was a good life. I was happy. Maybe not all the time but I was just like all the other kids. I had a Mom and a Dad and I was pretty sure that they loved me. I had new Grandparents and I was pretty sure that they loved me too. I was safe and I knew that. I was happy. Really happy. I was normal. I wasn’t some other woman’s kid. I was just one of the kids. I belonged here. With my family. My new family. We all lived together for, what feels like a very long time and it was good.

I started school while we lived in that house. I started kindergarten and I can still remember a day that my Grandparents (Mom’s parents) parked outside of my school because they just wanted to lay eyes on me. When I got home that day; I was asked if I had seen them while I was at school.

I was promised, if I told the truth that nobody was in trouble. I told the truth and I never saw them again until I was much, much older.

They used me to hurt my Grandparents. They lied to me. Then they took my Grandparents away. I was hurt and angry…really angry.

I loved my Stepmom and my Dad so much! Why would they do this to me? I thought they loved me but now I was so sad. No little kid understands stuff like this.

(NOTE: If I had just a single dollar for every time I have asked myself why somebody, who should have loved me, would hurt me? I would have had enough money run away and leave this country long before I turned 12. Lol)

Then one day we moved away from our Step mom’s family, and the good didn’t move with us.

Pally, do you remember that looming shadow I told you about? From this point on, anything could happen.

CHAPTER 10: HOUSE WITH TWO FIREPLACES

My mind is taken back to when I was around 7 or 8 years old. We lived in a house with a fireplace at either end of the living room. I thought it was beautiful! My dad placed huge, beautiful 100-gallon aquariums on the mantles of both. I remember that my mom kept the vacuum in a small closet next to one of these fireplaces. Every time I went to take it out of the closet, I would hit my head on the mantle. Seriously; EVERY FREAKING TIME! So by now, I have had multiple bad head injuries. No wonder I’m bonkers half the time! Lmao!

My cousins and I spent hours dancing to Sonny & Cher and The Captain & Tennille in front of one of the fireplaces while the adults played cards. I also remember that we would play jacks on the hearth. I think my cousin Shardonna taught me how to play jacks the right way. She was cool like that. My relationships with all of my cousins were always less cousin and more sibling. Not just with one or two cousins but ALL of them. I just always felt that way toward them all. I’m not sure why lol, it’s just how I’m wired, I suppose.

In this home, my parents began spending a lot of time with my Aunt Velveeta and Uncle Buck. My Aunt Velveeta could be a real hell-cat! Lmao I found her to be wild, beautiful, and glamorous! I think that my stepmom was influenced heavily by her. Then again, I honestly can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t have been.

I believe that my dad’s family and my stepmom’s family were as different as day and night. In their ways of thinking, mannerisms, values, etc. My stepmom’s family was happy, loving, and caring. They absorbed us right into their lives as if we had always been there. They never seemed to get angry, like almost never. They were nonjudgmental and funny, and I loved being a part of their family. They celebrated holidays in a gigantic group and were a very close-knit family.

My dad’s family could be fun, but mostly they always seemed angry. Most of the time. All of them lol. Or maybe it wasn’t anger so much as pain. I don’t know, but now that I am past being grown, I can see their injuries clearer. Everybody carries their scars up front for those who care to look.

My Aunt Velveeta was my favorite when I was little because she was wild, beautiful and loud, and I thought she should have been a movie star. Hell, I suspected that she was a star in hiding, because the only women I heard of who got married that many times was Cher and Elizabeth Taylor and my Aunt was definitely a Cher! She also seemed hurt and angry, just in a candy-coated way. She also seemed sad under it all.

When I was small, I would watch people’s faces all the time. The eyes and mouth tell me the most. When they talk, smile, watch television, or listen to other people talk. I watched how quickly masks change on people. One mask rolls into the next without pause. I saw the real, when a person relaxed and let their guard down so their mask slid off for a while. It was during a time like this when my Aunt Velveeta’s mask slid off and she looked so lonely and sad. Almost haunted, just staring off into space. Sometimes, I think something terrible must have happened to my Aunt Velveeta when she was younger.

So, the house with two fireplaces. I can’t bring myself to go in to details today because I just can’t! Pally, I promise, I will lay it all out tomorrow, ok? How about instead, I entertain you with stories of a few things that occurred while we lived here? Yes? Great! I remember one night in the winter, Aunt V was staying with us and I woke up in the middle of the night to see static in my blankets. I didn’t know what it was and I was scared that it might have been fire. I went downstairs and Aunt V asked me what I was doing. I told her about the fire and she told me about static, and I went back to bed. Lol.

Another night, I had a really bad earache and Aunt V got up in the middle of the night with me and put warm olive oil in my ear and it worked like a charm! It was in this house that I learned so much more than I ever needed to know. Some of it was horrible and some was good. All of it has stayed with me my entire life.

In this house, I procured the names “Queenie” as well as “Daddy’s little bitch” (from Mom, who can only be called, well; Mom and Aunt Velveeta; hence the name change lol besides, it’ just for fun).

(People with zero self esteem; have no business raising their own kids, never mind someone else’s.) I wasn’t a threat to you any more than the dead woman you were so threatened by. Everything was unnecessary. But then; you knew that already, right?

It was here that my Stepmom and my Aunt Velveeta made one of my Cousins (Aunt Velveeta’s daughter Llonda) hit me in the face over and over while they cheered her on. The weird thing is that my cousin was crying most of the time she was hitting me. She didn’t want to be doing that to me! Adults can be so weirdly messed up. Yes, Pally, in one way or another, all adults. Myself included.

I was molested and beaten head to toe in this house.

My cousin Greg had come to live with us. Greg was my Uncle Leland’s stepson. Uncle Leland was my dad’s brother. I’m not sure how long he lived with us, but it seems to me like it was a long time. He was a teenager at the time, I think. He molested me and beat me with a belt hard enough to leave bruised stripes from my shoulders to my ankles. To be fair to Greg, I made him beat me on purpose so that he would have to leave our house. (I will explain this in detail later in this story, Karen, I promise.) When my stepmom saw the marks, she showed my dad, who then threw Greg out of our house. Physically. I knew that my dad would never just let me be beaten! Especially if it were a severe enough beating, and I was right. So, that was the end of that.

It was never spoken of again until many, many years later. At Uncle Leland’s funeral. After living in the house with two fireplaces for a while, there was an electrical fire while we were at school. I had another aunt named Aunt Jug (on Dad’s side) who was a genius at finding money in the most unusual places. She was truly brilliant at seeing a situation from all angles super fast. Aunt Jug was born as a “Veiled” Baby or En Caul birth. Meaning she had a very thin, fine membrane covering her entire face when she was born. Basically, it usually means a baby born while still in the amniotic sac. My Aunt Jug, however, had a very fine membrane attached completely across her hairline at her forehead, down both jaws, and just below the chin. Her caul was an attached mask.

Throughout history, veiled babies have been viewed as having various talents or powers, if you will. If I had to pinpoint hers, my Aunt Jug was a seer. No way she got away with the stuff I know she got away with, without being charmed somehow! For real. I would almost swear it. I don’t know for sure that this house fire was a janky one, but for some reason, our dog Foxy wasn’t in the house, so I was super happy.

I didn’t care about the house, but I loved my dog. He was my best friend from grade school until 8th or 9th grade. That little guy was braver than any human being I have ever known. He wouldn’t back down from anything. He was the best! He lost one of his eyes fighting a Doberman because it came into our yard while I was outside with my youngest sister Karen, sitting on a blanket and playing. The Doberman started growling, and Foxy went right off his nut and jumped on that dog’s throat! The Doberman tried to shake Foxy off but couldn’t. The fight was over quickly, and Foxy had sent that Dobie packing after a bit of a scrum. He didn’t even stop fighting when he became blinded in one eye!

Lol, my little pitpom berserker! Haha! Foxy was a Pomeranian (not a pitbull) and brave and loyal as heck. He was my best buddy. He lived for many years after this, and on the day he finally died, he was fighting a huge Husky. For real. He was something special; I really loved that little guy. It surprised me that the whole family took losing him hard, but Foxy’s death seemed especially hard on me and Dad. Dad stood over Foxy’s body next to me; both of us crying because just looking at our little guy, we knew he couldn’t be saved. Our boy died a Viking death. A brave warrior to the end.

Now I ask you, who does that? Who takes this faithful, savage, warrior of a dog and dresses it up in a Pomeranian body? O_o I swear; I don’t think he would have backed down from a full-grown bear. That little guy was a BERSERKER from his precious little nose all the way down to the tip of his curly tail! (I can almost hear you laughing from here) (lol)

After the fire, we moved in with my stepmom’s parents again for a short time. I liked it there because Gramma Marge was always so kind and loving, and she kept junk food on hand. I loved her so very much. She and Grandpa would gather the family together every summer, and the entire family would head off to Lake Marie in Missouri. It was amazing there! We always had the best times, and well, it was just the best. Once, while vacationing there, one of my cousins dared me to ask a male neighbor if I could see his tallywhacker!

I always thought this sounded like the name of a fishing lure. “New from K-Tel! The fisherman’s best friend! The original TALLYWHACKER!”

So I did it. Lmao Of course, he showed me! Then, when he asked if I wanted to touch it, I told him, “No, that’s gross. It looks like a gray dead worm!” That wasn’t the shocker.

The next day, our family watched that guy wildly throwing his stuff into his car. Then, he came speeding backward toward where we were all having lunch. That guy stopped near us and yelled out of the passenger side window, “That little girl is the DEVIL!” “You should get her some help!” I just sat in my little chair slurping on a grape Shasta like I had never seen that guy before in my life! LOLOL!!

Typical though. Sure, make the devil hang out in me! Blame the little girl! She made you whip out Willie the One-Eyed Wonder Worm! Powerful kid.

Hey Buddy, I don’t know, exactly how to break this little factoid to ya, but you, Sir, are a pervert. Jus’ Sayin…

Regardless, I win! I didn’t often lose a bet with them, but I did get my ass in trouble a bunch! Lol

Pally, I’m sorry, but this is getting harder than I thought it would be, so I need to take a break. You see, Pally, in the past few years, we have lost so many members of our family, and it is still very sore. Ok. I’m gonna go smoke a big fat bowl of um…salmon! Yeah, that’s it! And then maybe I will come at this again. OK, BOWL GONE! Yay Salmon AND EXECUTIVE DECISION TO TAKE THIS BACK UP TOMORROW, APPROVED. COMMENCING, NEXT BOWL… of some other fish…

Wait, I just remembered something. At some time in my childhood, we also lived in a small white house. It was next door to a very nice old lady we called Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones had a cute grandson named Danny who lived in Michigan. I’m not sure how long we lived there, and I have no outstanding memories from that time except that there was a sorority house right behind us, and girls liked to lay out on their roof without their tops on. My Dad had the best-looking yard that summer, and we ate tons of BBQ. I LOVE YOU, DAD!!! Lol I’m done for today Pally~Hugs!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HOUSE WITH 2 FIREPLACES

Ok Pally, I did promise you so here it is. I was molested in that house. The house with two fireplaces. We hadn’t moved in with Grandma Marge yet. This is just so freaking hard, Pally! Ok. Here it is. My dad had a brother named Leland and Leland had step kids Greg, Gwen, Kevin, and Helen. Together with his wife, Sharon, the had a little girl named Bebe. I was going into third grade, I think. Greg molested me by touching me and making me touch him. There. I typed it. Now the hardest part. The explaining. Greg used me all over my 3rd grade body. There wasn’t penetration though, so I guess there’s that. I had no idea what was happening, but I was pretty sure it was bad. It made me feel really bad all the time. Like pukie bad. Physical pain bad as well as just plain bad. I didn’t tell anyone for decades.

He didn’t threaten me or anything, he told me what happened to bad kids. Also, my parents weren’t who they used to be; they didn’t love me like they used to anymore, and I didn’t know why. So when he told me that if I talked to them about it, they would hate me forever and send me away because I would always be that dirty, bad person and nobody wants dirty, bad kids.

That little story framed how I viewed myself for the majority of my life. Now, I was just bad, and I was pretty sure that Mom and Dad didn’t like me so much anymore. It made me think that maybe they already knew I was awful and they already hated me because I was just so bad. I had never felt like that before. Just so damned low.

So, I didn’t tell them because if I was bad, it must be my fault and I hated getting into trouble. That was when I started wetting my pants and did so for years. Never at night, that I can remember, but lots during the daytime. Nobody understood why I just started doing this, least of all me. I was potty trained before we moved there, so something must be going on. I was told I was too lazy to go to the toilet. Too dumb. Just disgusting. Too busy playing and waited too long. Didn’t pee before leaving and yadda-yadda-yadda. Now that I am grown, it all makes sense, but back then I was just bad and gross, disgusting and lazy.

That didn’t make Greg leave me alone, but all those fantastic labels I just listed above? Yeah, they stuck. I dragged those along with me as well. So I got to be the molested, gross, disgusting, lazy, dumb, bad girl. Yay to me. My self-worth had become nonexistent by then.

So I didn’t feel anything when Dad entertained our visiting family with, what felt like 4 hours, (was probably 30 minutes lol) of math flashcards and criticism from the genius forum every freaking holiday and random weekends.

Oh hell yeah, I was like the lion and math the gladiator, and that math would eat me alive all the time lol! What could be better entertainment than getting the family together for a fun-filled night of criticizing the other woman’s first-grade kid’s math skills or lack thereof?

Pally, would it surprise you to know that Mom, to this very day, will try to humiliate me because of my grades?

I am 57 freaking years old! Who cares? Lol. Some things never change.

This family will try to kick me every time they think I’m down. Poor people, let me tell you why you have never been successful: I have never been that far down. Fools. Lmfao!

Pally, would you please try to Shanesplain to my family that all those times they thought they caught me weak and downtrodden; they were wrong? Oh no fams, I was just taking a beat. Needed to get my legs up beneath me. The instant I can see what I am truly facing? I get on it like a grommet.

I am gonna let you google that little surfer reference and I am going to take a break. This is so much harder than I could have imagined. Putting it all in print somehow makes it seem entirely too real; too tangible, and present in my world, and I’m not digging it at all. More later. I’m out!

Ok, so I just reread what I wrote earlier and I want to be absolutely crystal clear. It sounded whiny to me, lol, and that isn’t sitting well with me. This story, at this point in time, is coming from the perspective of a very young me. Did my parents change? Pfft! Who the hell knows; but from my young perspective, they most certainly did. Now that I am grown, I can still see it. It just was the way it was. I had no freaking idea what was going on EVER! My parents changed every time we moved away from Grandma Marge and Grandpa Sonny. That is just a simple fact. Just so we are clear, this isn’t about accusations.

Damn it! Why do I do that?

My world just was what it was; nobody ever gave me an explanation for anything, ever. So if I type something and you think it looks like an accusation, then fine! That’s what we will call it because let’s face actual facts. It doesn’t really matter what I do. Somebody or many somebodies will have to play the victim to my villain. Hell, this victim thing is so ingrained that I’m not allowed to attend events at Dora’s house anymore if Mom and Dad are going to be there because, according to mom, “It’s just too painful.”

Really? It’s painful to YOU? Ok.

You have had more than 50 years to come up with the most amazing, creative, earth-shattering ways to get me deleted completely from your lives and THAT’S THE BEST YOU CAME UP WITH? YET YOU JUDGE ME??? OMG this is just too good…. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH OH SHIT LOL HAHAHAHAHA CAN’T STOP LAUGHING OMG I’M GONNA PEE MY PANTS HAHAHA I CAN’T BREATHE LOLOLOLOLOL Have they all lost their damned minds??? Pally, I ask you; what is wrong with this picture? You kick it around for a few minutes.

I need a gigantic bowl of um, cherries……brb. Ok, now I’m back and all I can say is….. Shame on you. That’s all I have to say other than, after laughing hysterically for a bit, I’ve got a hella harsh headache.

My story. About me. MY LIFE. ONLY MINE. For ME.

Besides, nobody bought this book to see how you feel or what you think about anything. You see, in this story, I matter. Not you; me.

Anyway, before my fam gets all big-headed and indignant, please allow my esteemed associate Pally; to direct you to the following link.

GEORGIOU MUSIC-HER DOWNFALL (Lyric Video) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=61RVCKEk1QE Thank you, Pally. You’re the best! Me? Oh hell no. I’m done for the day. Peace!

Chapter 11: MY SISTER’S KEEPER

KAREN: Mom had her hands full with 4 girls, so Karen and I spent loads of time together as we were growing up. When I was home, we were always together.

This had been going on since we lived in the house with 2 fireplaces, and now I am going to tell you why we were so close that if Mom got on Karen about something, she would run to me for protection! Lol! This is really damned hard, but I am going to do this because damnit, I LOVE MY FAMILY, and there have always been reasons for everything I have done.

You think you want my history, Karen? OK, it’s your history as well, so have at it. You’re grown now, so try not to choke on it. I hear it tastes much like crow. Bitter and chewy.

The two fireplace house. Where I was molested and beaten. Damn. Ok.

One night, my parents were gone. A week or two before this particular evening, Mom and Greg had been teaching Karen how to walk, and she had taken her first steps. So she had to be just around a year old.

Shortly after my parents left, Greg took me into the bathroom, removed my clothes, and tried to make me touch him. Then he tried to touch me. He had been molesting me for quite a long time by then. I said no. He kept trying, but I wouldn’t do it.

That made him mad. He grinned his huge, horse-teeth grin at me and said, “You won’t, huh? Ok.” To punish me, he picked up Karen and took her into the bathroom, grinning at me as he handed my clothes to me and closed the door. I completely lost my mind! I hurried to put on my clothes.

As soon as the door closed, I heard the lock click, and I ran up to the door and started pounding on it and kicking it. He wouldn’t open the door. I could hear him laughing at me in there. I tried everything I could think of. I started screaming at him that I wanted to call my dad (we didn’t have 911). Still, he ignored me. I was so scared Karen was being hurt because I could hear her crying loudly, and I was way past hysterical, beating and kicking on the door, screaming and crying.

Finally, I told him I was going to start a fire and burn the house down with all of us in it. Then I made sure he heard me running loudly into the kitchen to the stove.

I really was going to start a fire. I had to make him stop. I would do it!

I reached up and turned on the gas stove, then grabbed a dish towel from the counter and threw it on the burner! That towel caught fire fast, and the kitchen began filling with thick black smoke. I knew what dead was now, and I wasn’t afraid.

Greg came running in behind me and hit me with a belt so hard that he knocked me to the floor. Then he turned the stove off, grabbed the burning towel, and stomped it out on the floor.

Greg then spun around to face me.

He started yelling, “Are you fucking crazy? What the hell are you trying to do, kill us?” and I told him, “I’m not crazy, I want my sister. You can’t have her.” He stood there, surrounded by smoke, his foot on a burned-up dish towel, with his mouth hanging open, and he just stared at me.

He still got his way that night. I had to agree to go with him into the bathroom and do whatever he wanted so he wouldn’t touch her. So, I did. After that, it was hard to get me away from Karen. I watched over my baby sister until I just couldn’t anymore.

So, Karen; now you know. I hope it was worth it because it’s the only gift I’ve ever had to offer you. I did the best I could to protect you and keep you safe. I loved you then and I love you now. Just as I love ALL my family.

BUT OH MY GOD YOU PEOPLE PISS ME OFF! Sorry, that had to be said.

Look, just because a person is a complete wad to me doesn’t mean I can just stop loving them. I may not like them at all, but I would still donate blood if they needed it. Like and love are two separate emotions for me. I can love a person and still not be able to stand being around them lmao. On the flip side, just because I like a person doesn’t mean I love them.

But you, Karen, you didn’t have anyone there at that moment to protect you, except for me. Mom and Dad would always tell me to be good and help look after my sisters; so I did.

If you don’t believe me, ask Greg. If you don’t ask Greg and you still choose to not believe me; well then, I will gladly pay Pally to show you the way to close this book.

Because that would mean that you have written me off so long ago that this; this is just done. And that’s ok because we came prepared for just that outcome!

Though I am choosing not to play, that doesn’t mean that you have to go home empty-handed!

(Please cue game show music)

Tell the lady what she will win, Pally!

(Pally talking) Oh Karen, you lucky, lucky girl! You will win an all-expense-paid training session that will certify you in the subtle and ever-so-delicate art of getting your negative BS as far away from me as is humanly possible and keeping it like that for well, as long as it takes for the Karen I knew and loved to return!

Meanwhile; thank you for playing “Be better than me” from way, way over there!! Be sure to tune in next week, while we watch this Author create a new genome made from only goat cheese, ear wax, and an inner tube!! Back to you, Shaney!

Thank you, Pally, you are always a treat!

So Karen, it’s on you.

Why? Because I refuse to feed that ego. That’s why. I swear you look for reasons to feel miserable. Besides, I’m as deeply tired as I could possibly be, so you do you. M’Kay? On the other hand, if you are wearing your “big girl, days of the week” undies, maybe you will ask Greg. Ya wanna know what will happen if you do??? He will tell you this exact same story if he has any kind of balls left at all.

Or maybe Mom or Dad will remember Greg trying to explain a burned towel the next day. I remember Greg telling Mom the next morning that he was making popcorn and put it too close to the burner. Do you, Mom? Do you remember Greg burning that towel?

I will continue to insist. My story. Factual unless otherwise noted. So I went with Greg into the bathroom that night again, so he wouldn’t touch you.

Now I had a new reason to be scared. Yay. I knew that I had to make Greg leave. I didn’t know how to do that because I was only in grade school at the time. Either first or second grade, I think. I believe that Mom and Dad were on a bowling league at that time, and that’s why Greg was watching us.

Anyway, one night, shortly after I went all pyro, Mom and Dad were gone and Greg was babysitting again. As soon as I heard their car taking off down the street, I went into the living room and dragged out every lap blanket and baby blanket that we had and acted like I was building you (Karen) a fort.

What I actually did was trash that living room like a massive frat party was thrown there. Blankets tied to knocked-over lamps and to both fireplaces; yes, both of them, and all the cushions were on the floor. Keith Moon, you were my hero even in utero!!! Are you certain you didn’t know my Mom? Were you missing any kids? Lmao!

To make my mess even more impressive, I managed to accomplish this in the time it took Greg to take a poop. I’m not even joking. There were blankets of every size, color, and shape tied to EVERYTHING all over that giant living room. I was super pleased with myself, and Karen was loving it! Crawling in and out of all the little blanket caves and rolling around in them playing peek-a-boo. She was so adorable.

Greg came out of the bathroom and straight up had a fit; just like I knew he would. Tonight would be his last night here. Predictably, he told me to get the mess cleaned up. I had already decided this was the only way to make Greg leave, but I was so scared. I knew this was going to really hurt, but I did it anyway.

I started off by ignoring him. I continued playing with Karen and said nothing. Now he was getting mad, and he said it louder. I was still not hearing him. Finally, he reached down and grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me out of the blankets and bringing my face up to his; he asked again loudly. I remember his breath smelled like puppy breath, only much stronger.

He had me practically dangling by my arm as he once again told me to clean up the mess right now. I lifted my chubby little grade school face up so I could look at his face, and very quietly, I said, “fuck you.”

His eyes got HUGE, and he sucked in his breath. He was all like, “What did you just say?” So I said it a little bit louder, but I was starting to cringe a little. I hated myself for it. So I said it one more time, even louder. I screamed into that stinking face, “FUCK YOU!” (It was the naughtiest thing I could think of to do!)

Greg shook me by my upper arm so hard it clacked my teeth together really hard, and I bit my tongue. Then he half dragged, half carried me by the arm to the dining room and grabbed my dad’s belt from the back of the chair. That MF threw me to the floor and started beating the hell out of me, and I’m not even remotely exaggerating. I tried to ball up my body and tuck in. I think I saw that done in a movie or something. I protected my face and throat. I didn’t think he was ever going to stop swinging that damned thing on me, but he finally did.

Then he just dropped down on his butt to sit on the floor, and he was panting like a dog. He had sweat dripping from his hair and running down his face. For being a teen, he looked like a ragged-ass old man. I laid on that floor and cried until I couldn’t anymore, and then he told me to go get ready for bed.

I wiped a huge snot bubble from my nose with my sleeve and raised my tear-stained face to him defiantly. I scrunched up my face as ugly as I could and, sneering at him, I said, “No, I am going to sleep on the couch with Karen.”

Surprisingly, he said, “Fine, whatever. Do whatever you want,” and he went into the kitchen, turned on the water, and started splashing it on his face.

I ran into the living room and picked up Karen, who was crying, and I took her into the bathroom with me so I could put on my nightgown and hers and change her diaper so he wouldn’t have to touch her.

When we were both changed for bed, I carried her back out to the sofa, got her tucked in, cleaned up the mess I made, then snuggled in with her, and we went to sleep. It worked. I hurt everywhere. Even my hair hurt.

Soon we would be okay again.

Note to friends and family: I can’t stress this enough. It was never important that any of you understood me. I always knew what I was doing. I couldn’t tell Mom and Dad because Greg said he would blame me and I would be sent away forever, to the bad kid place, because the things I let him do was that bad.

It was within the next couple of nights that Mom saw all of the bruises on me, and Dad threw Greg out of the house and right off the front porch. I still didn’t tell Mom and Dad about what Greg had been doing to us because I didn’t want me and Karen to be sent away. I had no idea if he was touching my other two sisters because I never saw anything to make me think that he was. I should have been watching closer, I do believe. I think I was too focused on Karen because the other girls could talk. Another regret that I have. So, Karen was safe.

So, what do you think of that, Greg? You got played by a 3rd grade girl. Way to go, big guy!

FYI, writing this is the equivalent of me removing my own organs one at a time. Jus’ Sayin’.

Ya know, Pally, I keep going back and rereading this and making edits and additions. As I’m doing this, I can’t help but marvel that I’m not quite yet a complete basket case or a junkie or a drunk! roflmfao!! I am currently only half of a basket case (missing parts). Ugh, now I really need a break. More later.

So, yeah; all that happened. Well shucks Pally, I am undecided about where to go from here because the sunshine is calling to me and it’s so distracting. I am thinking a bit of outdoor work should set me right, and then I will write more when I return.

CHAPTER 12: TUB POO

Yep! You read that right! Lol I remember once, my cousins JR and Llonda, both older than me, and I were still young enough to group bathe. Yeah, that happened; so? Pffft! Act like you never! Lmao!

Anyway, I had to make a poo before the bath and as I’m sitting on the pot, I’m thinking to myself: ‘Self,’ I thought, ‘no butt wiping should be needed because we are jumping right into the tub from here!’ You can see my little kid’s logic, right? So, I toss a biscuit, then flush, and climb into the tub.

As I was climbing over the side of the tub, I managed to leave behind the biggest poo streak known to the human race! It looked like a dirty covered landing strip! Llonda saw it first. Her face scrunched up, and she opened her mouth and let out a scream that Jamie Lee Curtis would have been proud of! That got JR’s attention, and when he saw it, he dug in his heels trying to backpedal away from it. They both looked at me, and I’m all like, “What? It will wash off in here.”

Logical? My cousins freaked the fluff out!!!

They were tripping over each other and falling into the water trying to get out!

It was a really deep tub, and water was flying everywhere! Llonda stepped on JR’s head, pushing his face underwater, and I don’t think she even noticed; she was moving that fast! That girl was not even having it! Lol She didn’t even try to save her brother! Lmao! She jumped up on his head, and when she launched herself off of her drowning brother’s head, well, it was a thing of beauty.

That girl flew through the air, surrounded by flying water, desperation, chaos, and sheer disgust, like a damn gazelle, and was gone! Just like that!

I was at one end of the tub, trying not to drown and marveling at Llonda’s grace, when suddenly, from the depths of that now semi-murky water, burst JR! Up he came from the bottom of that tub, gasping, panting, and wild-eyed, looking like Godzilla rising up out of the ocean. I can testify right here and now, Godzilla was mad as hell! He wiped his hands across his face and turned in my direction. I’m still just standing there stupidly, but when JR emerged from the water, I got a quick flash in my head of what it would look like if Godzilla and Jaws had a son…JAWSZILLA!!!

I knew I’d better run for my life! Llonda had already run out of the bathroom in a towel and was snitching on me in the dining room. I could see; as I blazed by, nekkid and doin’ 90; that the adults were looking concerned and seemed to be deeply engrossed in her story. That, of course, was only until my bare ass came flying through the dining room, tracking water and poo all over the place because it was now running down my legs! In hindsight, I probably should have wiped my butt first, lol.

I loved JR like a lifelong brother, but when he was mad, it was time to run, and I didn’t stop running around and around the dining room table until my Aunt Velveeta caught him, held him in place, and asked him what the heck was going on. Soooo… That didn’t turn out at all like I planned, and this is a great time to mention that this is yet another running theme for me, lol. OH! No! The poo isn’t the running theme! Oh Gawd no! Eeww! Running? Really Pally! Lol I’m shocked! Hahahaha!

The plans not working out thing! Like I’ve said before, dorky kid ha-ha! While we lived in this same house, I had two good friends that I can remember: Nita Faye and Peter. I had the biggest crush on Peter and always thought he looked like Leif Garrett. For you youngsters, I will pause while you Google that name.

(light techno music playing in the background) I know, right?! He was a total hottie!

Yep, that’s about all I remember about him. Sorry, Pete!

Then there was Nita Faye. She was my wild little spirit animal at that time. I thought she was the coolest person I had ever known, and to this day, she still is! lol She taught me how to run on all fours like a horse. We were both crazy about horses! She taught me how to run like that, faster than I could on two legs! No lie! She taught me how to smoke and shoplift. She was my very first best friend.

We were in Mrs. Jones’ class together and were always in some sort of trouble or other. She was awesome! Her mom drove a Pacer and taught me that I couldn’t get a suntan through car windows, lol!

I have looked online for her over the years but no luck. I don’t know for sure what I would even say if I saw her again except, “Thank you.” Thank you for being my friend when I needed one the most. Thank you for being that single brightest light in a really dark time. Just thank you!

Alright, enough of all that, lol. Now, let’s see what else happened while we lived there… oh right! Haha! I remember Mom and Dad waking us up on Christmas Eve and having all four of us girls sitting on the steps to spy on a drunken Santa putting gifts under our tree. We would have believed it was Santa at first, except when Santa bent over, my sister Dora said, “Hey! That’s Uncle Buck’s butt crack!” lolol, Oh well, at least the family tried, haha!

I also remember that my dad had a speed boat in the front yard. It was absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life! Candy apple red metal flake!

Heaven help this small girl and her forever fascination with beautiful sparkly things!!! Nope, no help for me. Since then, I have a sick, twisted, lusty kind of love for metal flake paint jobs. I am so okay with that! Lol

CHAPTER 13: DARK YELLOW HOUSE

I think I must have been around 8 or 9 by now. If I remember correctly, we moved into a dark yellowish house on or near SE 14th Street in Des Moines, IA after living with Grandma Marge and Grandpa Sonny. One day, I don’t think we had lived there for very long, I remember police officers beating on our door.

I was downstairs in my awesome basement room, which I loved! I heard the pounding and went up the stairs just in time to hear the cops asking my dad his name.

As soon as he said his name, they bum-rushed him and tackled him onto the kitchen floor! I ran at the cops, screaming at them to leave my dad alone, as I was trying to pull one off of him. My stepmom grabbed me up and whispered to me to calm down and let the police do what they had to. She was right, as usual; they were actually looking for another man with the exact same name. No lie.

My dad used to go hunting when we lived at this house. He would let me watch him as he cleaned the animal, usually a pheasant or rabbit. He also showed me this tendon in the leg of a pheasant, that if you tug on it, the claw will grab. Dad showed me all the organs inside and explained what each organ did. I do believe this sealed my love of the medical field.

At this house, I can remember my youngest sister, Karen, running through the house with a pair of Fiskars (Google?) and she fell on them, cutting the webbing between her thumb and index finger. I also remember a day when we were playing in the backyard.

My sister, Dora, got too close to the alley, and some boy threw a rock at her, hitting her in the face and dividing her top lip into two flaps of skin. The moment I saw the blood pour from her mouth, I took off down the alley after that boy, intent on destroying him.

That kid was fast! No way could I catch up to him. In my frustration, I found myself standing in the middle of this dirt alley, soaked in sweat and filth, hands balled up as tightly as possible and held straight down to my sides, and I screamed my sister’s entire name as loudly as I could. No freaking clue why I did that, Pally. Maybe it was just better than feeling powerless. Or maybe on some primal level, we understand the power behind words. You think? Nah, I didn’t think so either, lol.

I was just a hot, sweaty, angry kid who couldn’t catch the bad guy. And that made me mega pissed off, that’s all.

I missed my friends from our last house, but I did get a cool bedroom in the basement, and I loved it. For my last birthday, Aunt Jug (Dad’s oldest sister) bought a jean jacket for me and paid a friend of hers to paint a beautiful horse on the back of it! I was instantly IN LOVE with this jacket, and I still wish I had it because the painting was rather good, and I would have cut it out and framed it.

Then again, I also couldn’t throw my toys away because to even think about it, I would become overwhelmed with deep feelings of guilt because I was convinced they would feel that I had abandoned them! Lmfao!

I was that kid. I had discovered early on, in our newest home, that if I placed a bit of garbage bag right up close to the side of the furnace, the heat would almost suck the plastic to the sides and it would melt. By the time we moved, that furnace wasn’t looking very good, lolol!

I think in this house we were more like a family again. I think we were in a really good place in our lives for a while here because everything I am remembering makes me really happy. Hmm, and my stepmom’s parents didn’t live with us here!

Look at me seeing our parents progress and being all happy and carefree!! Almost childlike, wouldn’t you say, Pally? I feel like I was a happy, carefree child here. When I think of this place, I have no anxiety, so I really do think we were good here. Or maybe just I was good here.

I remember in this house, my stepmom had a box of these crybaby dolls and she brought them in from the car with her hands full. She set the box on top of the stove and went back out to the car to get the rest. While she was outside, Dora turned the knob on the stove and the box of dolls caught fire. I think it scared Mom pretty badly. The last thing I can remember is my stepmom being mad and taking Dora in to be put down for a nap and then cleaning up. I stayed in the kitchen, I think. lmao It’s all hazy and I don’t think it means anything more than there was a fire.

I also remember Mom and the nice Mexican lady who lived behind us, lmao. Those two had me carrying bowls of cocktail shrimp back and forth, and I have no idea why, hahahaha! I think her daughter’s name was Grace, but I’m not sure. I remember she was trying to teach me Spanish.

There was this gas station at the end of our alley. I used to love going down there because they had Crush soda pop. I loved Strawberry Crush.

What made it even better was that my cousin Kevin taught me about slugs—small metal disks from an electrical box that can be used to get free pop from the machine!

In my mind, Kevin was nothing short of a genius! The pop machine was one of those really old ones that would dispense glass bottles on one side or the other, and they were hard to pull out.

As luck would have it, these slugs could often be found all along railroad tracks.

Whenever my cousin Kevin would come to visit, we would spend entire days walking the tracks, looking for cans and bottles that he could cash in. Rain or shine, it didn’t matter. We would walk for what seemed like miles, and he would tell me about his new favorite music groups and talk about his friends from school. He was a good guy and one of my favorite people growing up.

I didn’t need money because I never went anyplace to spend it, especially since learning how to get free pop from the machine! Kevin always bought me some candy or something before he would have to go back home.

At the end of our alley stood a tall apartment building. I think it was pink. Anyway, whenever I would go alone to get a free pop, I would walk past these apartments. I remember that there was a door upstairs with an overhang and a sort of balcony on top with lawn chairs on it.

Old Mr. Rufus lived up there. Sometimes he would have friends sitting up there with him, and when I would walk by, he would always tell his friend, “Here comes Miss Janey” (he never once got my name right, lol), “and how are you today, Miss Janey?” Mr. Rufus had taught me to reply properly, “Well, I am just fine, Mr. Rufus, just fine, thank you, sir. How are you today?” Then he would tell me he was doing just fine as well, comment on my strawberry pop, and tell me that his favorite was grape.

Then we’d say our goodbyes, and I would head home. Mr. Rufus taught me how to present myself to others with pride and respect and how to address my elders the same way, but at that time, he was the only one I spoke to like that.

On a side note, these manners that he taught me most likely saved my life more than once. It made me feel proud and important. Grown-up. Maybe even special. I didn’t know it at the time, but I know now that it made me feel special because Mr. Rufus was being respectful to me, and that’s what respect feels like. I had never felt that before, but I knew I loved how it felt.

I was in 3rd grade at this time, I think, and I was pretty happy.

Elvis died while we lived in this house. Now, somewhere in here, at this dark yellow house, my dad’s oldest brother Uncle Chet, his wife Aunt Ruth, and their kids Shar, Tuff, Donnie, and Terry moved in with us for just a little while. I loved Uncle Chet and Aunt Ruth. Both were always wonderful to me. They had a house fire, and it was really bad. They had lost everything, so that’s why they stayed with us for a bit.

I was STOKED!! My cousin Shar and I were very close in age and got along famously! Well, we did if I was behaving myself, haha! Her brother Tuff was close to our age as well, and the three of us would play for hours on end. Lol, We had these mattresses downstairs in my basement area, and we would pile them up and play King of the Mountain, which was especially fun if all of the cousins were over for a visit. We would also see who we could catch in a bent mattress and taco them to death! Lmao!!

My cousins Llonda and JR were Aunt Velveeta’s kids, and they were both super fun at that game.

My cousin Shar and I used to listen to records in her basement or mine. Knock 3 times on the ceiling if you want me… I’ve got a brand new pair of roller skates and you’ve got a brand new key…Only the lonely…Tie a yellow ribbon…Hey There Lonely Boy. She loved the Everly Brothers, and I did too, but only because she did. I didn’t know who they were; I just loved hanging out with her, and I liked music. She taught me about clovers tasting sweet and about the bees making honey from them. Shar was always so smart. She knew about so many more things than I did, and she wasn’t hardly older than I was. But I loved learning things from her. We went to church together for years!

Shar a much better-behaved girl than I was back then. This one time, we went to an AWANAS sleepover… Now, I won’t even try to remember what AWANAS stands for, but I will bet a dollar to a doughnut that Shar just said it out loud while reading this!!! Haha!!! Gotchya!!

So many days spent listening to music, wrestling around, playing tag, and making prank phone calls… Those were some of the best days of my childhood! My parents would get together with the aunts and uncles, and they would play cards for hours! While the parental figures were distracted, our generation created our own paradise. We did so much together!

We would play hide and seek until long after dark, and we could do this in any neighborhood in Des Moines, Iowa, and NEVER worry about not being safe. People used to look out for one another back then, and it was a completely different world for us.

We had no idea how lucky we were to live in such a time of blissful freedom to roam, explore, and grow as individuals. Those days of unbridled freedom are far behind us now, I’m afraid. We were always outside, day or night, especially in the summertime. Catching fireflies or night crawlers, going to parks, ice skating, summer vacations together as one big family. Those are my all-time favorite days ever. I had been through a bit, but even in my dinky brain, I’d had a pretty freaking wonderful life overall up to this point!

Then, like all things, it ended. I don’t know why. Shortly after Uncle Chet’s family moved into their new home, it began.

Late one night, Mom and Dad were arguing in the living room after we had gone to bed, and I was surprised when everything seemed okay in the morning. It wasn’t okay; it was just very quiet. Not too long after that, we moved into a little white house.

Right. Now, I am going to take a huge break because this next bit is too raw to be even remotely easy. So after a deep head dive into my biggest bowl of cereal, that should put me right as rain, and then I will continue after.

Or not, I need a full night alone with my multiple bowls of cereal and a bunch of silence. Goodnight, Pally. Love ya!

**CHAPTER 14: HELEN

Ok; buckle up, Pally, this ride is about to get bumpy and I am only going to do this once.

Deep breath aaand… go!

My cousin Kevin was staying overnight or the weekend at our house in Des Moines.

The following day is when everything for all of us would be forever changed in the worst possible way. So, here it is.

HELEN. 1977

I have no idea what day it was, but it was hot as hell, I think. I may have known it was Helen’s birthday at the time, but at this current time, I cannot recall. It started out as kind of an exciting day for me because we were going to Ottumwa to my Uncle Leland’s house.

Uncle Leland is my dad’s brother, and he was always my favorite uncle. He was married to my Aunt Sharon, and they had five kids in all. Aunt Sharon had Greg, Gwen, Kevin, and Helen, and together they had Bebe. Kevin was closest to my age besides Helen and had just spent the weekend at our house in Des Moines. Maybe it was just an overnight; I don’t recall. Kevin and I would spend hours and hours hunting for pop cans on the train tracks behind our house, and I always looked forward to his visits.

On this day, Mom and I were driving him back to Ottumwa, Iowa. I think maybe my youngest sister Karen was with us. She would have been an infant if she was, so I suppose it’s irrelevant. At that time, Kevin lived on Jay Street in Ottumwa and was probably my best friend at that age. When we arrived, Mom went inside the house to visit with Uncle Leland and Aunt Sharon. Kevin went into his room to find a record or something that he wanted to show me. I saw Aunt Sharon go into the bathroom. It looked like she was getting ready to go to work as she was only wearing a slip and a pair of house slippers.

If memory serves, she was a nurse at a local nursing home. I remember when she was going to work, she always wore an up-do hairpiece. She also wore blood red lipstick and always wore her nails long and painted. I always thought that Aunt Sharon looked like a beautiful leading lady in a black and white film. I didn’t see anyone else at that time except for Bebe; she was the youngest of their kids. She was in the living room by herself, so I hung out with her for a bit. She was playing with her Mrs. Beasley Doll, and I remember that I was telling her I used to have one just like that.

I believe she told me that her other grandma had bought the doll for her. She and I hung out for about 15 or 20 minutes, then Mom came to the doorway and told me that she was going to run across town to Grandma J’s house. I asked her if I could wait for her here at Kevin’s house so he could show me his record. She told me that would be fine and that she would be back in about an hour. Mom went out the door and got into the car. While Mom was backing out, I was standing by the front screen door watching her leave when Helen came around the corner of the house crying.

Helen was a pretty girl with mousy brown hair and a killer smile that was pretty infectious. She wasn’t really a loud or obnoxious girl, but she was a lot of fun. Sometimes, she would go really quiet like she was deep in thought. Still, we had times when she would be just as wild and crazy as the rest of us kids.

Now here she was, sobbing and looking so sad. I went outside and asked her if she was okay, and she said that I wouldn’t understand. I told her to try me.

I was a nosy idiot. I should have left her alone that day. I should have just walked away and let her have a good cry.

However, as my remaining cousins can attest, I’m just not made like that. I have to help if I am able to. Helen and I sat down on the front porch, and she made me swear not to say a word of what she was about to tell me. I swore. She cried some more and said, “He keeps doing stuff to me.”

I immediately thought she was going through the same abuse that I had in the past at the hands of her oldest brother. So I asked her, “Who? Greg?” She looked at me all disgusted and said, “NO! Leland!”

You could have knocked me over with a feather right then. I was positively gob smacked!

I looked at her, shocked, and asked her, “Uncle Leland is doing sex stuff with you?” She said, “No! He won’t stop hitting me, and I hate him.” “Why would you think that Greg… you know what; never mind.” (Greg was my villain, not hers)

Then she touched my face to get my attention and she said, “Listen to me; you need to get away from this family as fast as you can!” I told her that I couldn’t just leave my sisters.

She told me to give them the same advice that she was giving to me. “Run,” she said. Run as far away as possible and never look back.

She talked about going to Missouri to live with her boyfriend.

She showed me her tattoo, and it said DEB.

The reason I remember the initials so clearly is because I recall first, asking Helen if DEB was for Aunt Debbie, and I chuckled when I asked her. Aunt Jug was my dad and Uncle Leland’s sister. She had a daughter named Debbie. She laughed out loud at that and said, “No, that’s my boyfriend’s nickname.”

Helen told me that his name was Delbert S. (I will not be adding his last name) I asked if his middle name was Eugene, because that was JR’s middle name as well and she said no. I was just trying to think of names that matched the letters. Helen told me his middle name; however, it has been so long ago now, I can’t remember what it was.

I do remember thinking it was strange because the name that she told me didn’t match up with his initials. I asked Helen about this, and she said that DEB was his nickname, not his initials.

I remember that bit quite clearly because that made zero sense to me unless her boyfriend wasn’t a boy and I knew that wasn’t the case.

My prepubescent brain was spinning and couldn’t make sense of anything about this day.

I also remember, with severe clarity, that Helen told me that her boyfriend was older than Leland, and that he was going to leave his wife for her. Then she sort of giggled nervously at that.

Right here; I can’t remember if she told me that she was pregnant or that she was hoping to get pregnant by her boyfriend.

I did make the comment that DEB was an improvement to Delbert, and she laughed again.

Then, Helen made me her blood sister and swore me to secrecy about her boyfriend. Lol,

I was too scared to let her poke me with a needle, so she let me pick a scab! Today I am hoping like hell that I kept that promise because as hard as I try, I can’t remember. She was calmer now.

It took a while, but I convinced her to tell her mom the truth about Uncle Leland. I am so sorry I did that. Because had I not, she would still be alive today.

This is clear to me to be fact.

As she kept saying that her mom wouldn’t believe her, I kept insisting that her mom loved her and would protect her. I am a pathetic idealist, and I totally blame Disney for that. I told her that if her mom didn’t believe her, then we could tell my mom and dad because I knew they would save her and she could just come live with us. I told her that I knew that my parents would take her in because they would never let her be hurt, especially after she told them everything, and then we could be like real sisters.

Helen finally agreed. She stood up and went inside to tell her mom. Within less than a minute, I heard Aunt Sharon yelling at her. Then I heard Helen scream and cry out. I jumped up from the porch, watching the front door. Instantly when I heard Helen cry out, my blood ran cold. Then Helen came running outside holding her face, and it was bleeding. Blood was running out from between her fingers and down her wrist. When she dropped her hand, she had a gash on her cheek just below her eye. I think it was on the left side. It was about an inch long.

She turned to me and said, crying, “I told you she wouldn’t do anything about it!” I asked, “What happened?” “She doesn’t believe me!” “If anything happens to me, it was Leland! It was Leland!” Then she said that if I never see her again to tell anyone who will listen. Then she screamed at me, “Say it back to me!” So I did. I screamed back at her, “It was Uncle Leland!” I was shocked and terrified! I had no freaking clue what was happening or even why it was happening.

I hadn’t been raised around this kind of craziness, and I was really scared. It was like suddenly the world was spinning out of control and moving almost too fast for me to keep up. Then everything in the entire world screeched to a halt. I couldn’t hear the traffic or kids in the neighborhood playing. There were no barking dogs, and it seemed that even the trilling of the summer bugs went silent for a moment. All I could hear right then was Helen’s voice. She told me, “If I don’t find you; come find me.” I was so scared, I looked into Helen’s tear-flooded eyes with my own and said, “I will. I promise.” She was bleeding and crying as her eyes locked onto mine.

She said, “I love you. You find me or I will find you.” Now I was sobbing as I told her that I love her too. Then I swore a blood sister oath to find her. “I swear! I swear I will find you!” Everything was happening really fast now. As we hugged each other goodbye, Kevin came flying out the front door, asking his sister what was going on and what happened to her face. We could hear Sharon and Leland inside the house, screaming at each other.

Now me, Kevin, and Helen are standing in the front yard. Kevin told Helen, “RUN!” I tried to tell Kevin that she could come live at my house, and he said that would never work. He told her again to run. He was in tears as well, yet I could see his conviction. He had the look of a boy who was losing everything he loved on purpose. My heart shattered because I know that feeling very well. They hugged each other, and Helen took off running up the hill. That was the last time I saw her. As I watched her little stocky frame disappear over the top of the hill on Jay Street, I began shaking throughout my entire body. I knew this was going to end badly. I could feel it.

Aunt Sharon came running out of the house, slamming the screen door open wide and screaming, “Where is she?” We turned in her direction but didn’t answer her. Sharon turned and went inside, only to return a moment later wearing a housecoat over her slip. She then got into her car and sped out of the driveway, throwing gravel into the air and leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

I turned to Kevin only to find that he was going into the house at a dead run. I started heading for Bebe in the living room, and I think Kevin went into the kitchen because I could hear that he and Leland were talking loudly. So I skipped checking on Bebe and moved toward the kitchen.

Right about the time I walked into the kitchen, I saw my Uncle Leland, shirtless, backhand Kevin in the face so hard that blood sprayed. Kevin ran out the back door with Leland right behind him, and I was right behind Leland. They were yelling at each other. I don’t remember what was said except Kevin yelled as loudly as he could, “Because you won’t keep your fucking hands off of my sister!” Or maybe it all occurred in the backyard, and Leland hit Kevin after he screamed the accusation. Logistics… anyway, the content is accurate. These were the actions taken by both, in both the kitchen and backyard, and that I know is fact.

My Uncle Leland, whom I adored, hit Kevin in the face so hard I thought my heart would stop just seeing it. After Kevin screamed out that accusation, my uncle spun around to me. His hair wet with perspiration, his mouth hanging open, he was panting and sweating as he just stared at me with wild, scared eyes. Oddly enough, even with what just happened, I felt so horrible for him. He looked lost, angry, and terrified all at the same time, and my heart just shattered.

Uncle Leland was always my favorite uncle. He was also a very close friend to my mom when she was alive. My understanding is that when my dad shipped out to Vietnam, my Uncle Leland took it upon himself to watch over us.

Aunt Velveeta told me that my mom knew that if she ever needed anything, she could call on him. I loved my Uncle Leland dearly. I had never seen him like that before or since. He was an amazing artist, and his talent was so raw and so pure. It was effortless for him. I remember one time when I watched him draw every single one of those matchbook characters. Do you remember those, Pally? I think there was a bear wearing a bowler hat, a pirate, and maybe a nurse, as well as several more I can’t recall. He drew them so perfectly that they looked like photocopies enlarged. He loved ice in his coffee and Tabasco on his eggs. He was an overall quiet man. He had a boisterous laugh that came from deep down in his chest, and although seeing his smile was a rare thing, when he did smile, it was large and genuine. I had never seen his temper before that day, and I never saw it since.

He was a watcher and listener, as is my dad as he has gotten older. This lost, terrified, crazy man in front of me now? Yeah, I had no idea who that was, but he wasn’t the Uncle Leland that I know and love to this very day. This Uncle Leland was a complete stranger to me, and as badly as I felt for him, I also hated him at that moment. It didn’t occur to me until I thought of him much later, but he had just killed the Uncle Leland who was precious to me and left this scary, sad man in his place. I never saw him the same way after that.

I ran past Uncle Leland to follow Kevin. However, Kevin was older than me and ran wicked fast. Besides, he was yelling at me to wait for my mom in the front and get out of here, so I gave up and ran around to the front of the house.

While all of this is happening, Bebe was crying loudly in the living room all alone. Sharon kept speeding up to the house over and over again, asking if any of us had seen Helen yet, then speeding off again, swearing loudly. She was more furious each time she drove by. After this point, it gets kind of blurry. Bebe crying, speeding cars, bleeding people, violence, anger, darkness all around.

The next thing I remember clearly is being back in the car with Mom, and we were leaving to go back home to Des Moines. If I am remembering correctly, as soon as Mom pulled up in the car, I jumped in fast and said, “Go Mom! We have to go now!” Mom did so, and she asked me what all the commotion was about. As far as I remember, I told her parts of it. Not Helen’s secrets. Or maybe I did tell her Helen’s secrets because I trusted Mom with good reason.

I do remember that I did tell her about Uncle Leland hitting Helen and Aunt Sharon’s actions.

Mom was quiet for a bit, then she quietly said that we should just keep this to ourselves and not mention it to Dad.

That’s how we handled most anything painful or just not normal. Speak of nothing. Pretend, ignore, deny. Deal with nothing. Address nothing. Rinse and repeat. We stuck our heads in the sand and pretended none of it existed.

What? Pally, stop looking at me like that! I don’t make the rules, lmao! Isn’t that a proven coping skill method? Besides, it isn’t as if this method doesn’t work, right?

It most certainly does not work! No. It fixes nothing. Stops nothing. Changes nothing.

The unspeakable; it just sits there in the corner of the room laughing at us; because ignoring it gives it power and permission to happen again. Pretending that nothing ever happened only feeds that unspeakable. Anyway, that’s how our family handled unspeakable shit; by pretending unspeakable shit wasn’t happening. It continues that way to this very day. That’s how I was taught to handle the unthinkable. Don’t speak of it…...Don’t think about it…..Pretend.

Not that any of that matters now. I do remember that within days of this incident, my dad got a phone call from someone, and he looked confused as he listened to the caller. I was peeking in. I’ve always had a need to know what is going on around me, lmao. When Dad got off the phone, he told Mom that Helen had run away and that they (the parents) weren’t going to report it or even look for her!

I remember I watched my dad’s face closely, and he looked a bit dazed like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what he had been told on that phone call. He also looked upset about the whole situation. I may have popped in and suggested that Dad report her missing, or I may have dreamed that part (it’s possible), and I only say that due to current clarity.

I knew right then that Dad had no clue what had happened that day at Uncle Leland’s house. I could also see that nothing about that phone call was sitting well with him.

My eyes kept darting over to Mom, and she gave me a very subtle “no” head movement, so I left the room to go watch TV.

This family, the legal system, and her extended family who was aware of the happenings in her life.

Helen was failed by all of us. Nobody is innocent in any of this! She was FAILED by her mother and her stepfather. Helen was FAILED by my mother and father. She was FAILED by her obnoxious Uncle Dick.

But the failure I am having difficulty reconciling with is that; Helen was FAILED BY ME.

I’m so sorry…so very sorry. I will never stop being sorry.

I tried to call the Wapello County investigator back to tell him that I had been mistaken about the boyfriend’s initials, but he never bothered calling me back.

That, by itself, makes no sense to me because, there has been a murder and I have recollection of the events leading up to and even after those said events.

I don’t get out much but, I suppose it is possible that law enforcement can now pick and choose what evidence and/or statements they wish to entertain for each case. It’s also possible that witness statements no longer carry the weight they once did. I would hate to think that it simply doesn’t matter what happened to Helen because she has been dead for so long.

That is exactly how it appears to me. Helen died too long ago to matter. So, there’s that.

My part in all of this mess?

At a party at Floyd and Lori’s River cabin in around 1987, Uncle Leland told me that he and Sharon had killed Helen and even though he wanted to; I didn’t let him explain. I walked away.

Then, around November 5th 1992, I was driving him to Mercy Hospital for a follow up after he’d had a pretty bad car accident.

On the way there, he was having difficulty breathing and kept leaning forward.

At one point Uncle Leland asked me if I wanted to know what had happened to Helen.

Now, I had many years to ask myself the same question and I had long ago decided that if she were no longer alive; the why and the how of it no longer mattered.

The fact that it happened was my only focus now and I had to pack fast.

What did matter was that I wasn’t going to be used to let my dear Uncle off the hook.

I love him but I’m not Catholic.

His confession does nothing for me or for Helen.

His actions were his own and he wasn’t getting off that easy.

I told him, I didn’t want to hear anything about it because nothing could bring her back.

If he wanted to talk about the past, he could tell me about my mom.

I have zero recollection of anything he said about my mom because my mind was swimming.

Any moron could see he was dying. He was dying in my car!

Uncle Leland kept asking me to take him to his sister’s house. (Aunt Jug)

I didn’t know my way around Des Moines so I told him that I only knew how to get to my parents house.

He was getting really agitated and before I could pull into my dad’s driveway; he died slumped forward in the passenger seat of my car.

I checked. He had no pulse.

I ran into my parents house to get Dad and by the time we got outside to the car, Uncle Leland was sitting up again with his head rolled back and mouth hanging open.

I jumped into the back seat and dad took the wheel.

We got him to Mercy hospital and within minutes he was gone.

I never told dad about Uncle Leland’s confessions because it wouldn’t have helped her.

It was too late.

She was failed by anyone and everyone; who even suspected there was abuse.

Helen could have been saved. We could have saved her by simply “getting involved”. Sticking our necks out. Anyone could have saved Helen’s life if they weren’t so scared of calling a MF out on his BS behaviors!!!!!

Not getting involved when a child is hurting is nothing short of ABSOLUTE COWARDICE. My parents pick and choose who to “get involved” for and I have never known what it takes to qualify for that.

Sometimes I got it and sometimes I didn’t.

Helen and I never fell into that category; and neither did my cousin Tuffy; Shar’s brother. (more on him later) We are not worth anyone sticking their necks out for, or making an effort for. We never were. I could feel this even when I was younger. That’s why I took it upon myself to, at least TRY.

The adults in my family sure as hell weren’t trying to help those kids. Coming from a place of honesty, I don’t think some of us had much value as kids.

We were not worth as much as the adults; so our feelings were never as important as how the adults felt. What we wanted, never mattered as much as what they wanted.

They would crow their glory about how they knocked the shit out of this kid or that kid; to each other. In front of us. Bragging and carrying on. Trying to out-do one another like beating the hell out of us was some kind of damned contest!! Advising each other; as well as new-comers to the family; that it was perfectly acceptable to “Haul that little bastard out behind the wood shed and beat the hell out of him!”. (Make note of the above paragraph as it will be important later in book)

No, the adults in my family couldn’t give two shits how any of us felt or if any of us actually could feel. I can remember Mom and Dad talking about Helen now and again, but Mom stayed vague and asked tiny questions, then subtly redirected him.

In my honest opinion, nobody, and I do mean NOBODY, could redirect my dad like my mom could. This skill of hers is probably the only thing that pushed my dad away from a white trash mentality to a stable, functional, productive mentality. And that push probably saved his life more than once.

PLEASE NOTE: (My ‘white trash’ definition is as follows.)

Also please note: In the following description, you will find no mention of color or sexual preference or religion or politics.

Okay, I think that’s all the stupid shit I refuse to address because I do not care where anybody get’s their slap and tickle as long as nobody gets hurt (unless its in a yum way) and everybody walks away happy.

Oh right, also I have spent enough time absorbing solar radiation in the quest for the perfect tan, I have gotten enough perms and considered the “Booty Pop for a hot minute. I have no business giving fucks about color. K?

So all you hyper-sensitive people just hush and skip this bit lolol! Because I just might be about to piss you off LMAO!!!!!

WHAT WHITE TRASH MEANS TO ME By Shaney.

:) (Constantly loud, obnoxious, dirty, scheming, plotting, thieving, lying, constant chaos, it’s all mine mentality, morally bankrupt, attention whore, brown teeth, your wife might also be your first cousin, wife beater wearing, stankin’ like old nasty beer, spitting on the sidewalk as a way to make a point, calling spoiled milk cottage cheese lovin’, proud fartin’, sleeping in bed with filthy feet or wearing boots, knowin’ you have vomit someplace on you but you don’t care, calling bugs protein, been wearing same clothes since late 1970s, something goes wrong and everybody knows you did it. Chaw chewing, snot hoarking, super icky, farmer nose blowin’, your girlfriend might be a sheep or calf, roadkill eatin’, ketchup swillin’, bi-weekly bathin’, bag of rotten mountain oysters smellin’, oh sweet jeebus…. deep breath…… yep……I’m gonna puke….brb)(AKA, the cops have you on speed dial and they give you frequent flyer miles for the local jail cell)

PLEASE NOTE: The opinion posted above is solely the opinion of the author and does not necessarily represent the opinions of the publishers or Pally.

Omg but I do! Lolol! I really do mean every freaking word! Yes I do! BWAHAHAHA!

Sorry, lol back on point.

Had Mom told Dad about what had happened, at Uncle Leland’s house, it very well could have set off an explosive and likely destructive chain of events.

Or maybe; just maybe, it could have saved that little girl’s life.

Make no mistake, she was a child.

At 15 years of age, her body was not fully developed because she was still growing.

Ergo; she was only a child.

A young girl who should have been safe and nurtured by the adults around her. She should have been protected and loved by the adults in her family; in our family.

She wasn’t.

I dunno Shaney, saving Helen, sounds like an awful lot of work; yeah, we cant be bothered with all that. I mean, what would people think? lol

YES it was pretty much like that!

Why the hell would I lie to you about something so absurd Pally? I wouldn’t.

Just because she was a stepchild, didn’t mean she had less value.

It didn’t mean that she wasn’t worth the effort. It didn’t mean she didn’t deserve to live a life!

Of course; that never happened.

I will carry that.

Come on, Pally, of course I am serious.

My dad’s family members were only ever about 3 Oscars, Emmys, or Tonys; away from being noted in history as the very epitome of drama!

One person gets another family member involved in pretty much anything, and everything goes to shit every time.

I’m impressed; now more than ever, that my dad and his siblings survived that mess because I guarantee, it didn’t start with them!

Moving on.

My mom wasn’t always nice to me, but I have spent my entire life watching her and seeing how she maneuvers and operates. That alone garners my respect.

It doesn’t make the smug abuse ok; but at least there was good to be learned from her as well.

Mom is a natural survivor, and I don’t even think she knows that. Mom is so subtle at maintaining control of the ebb and flow of her life and everything around her life that she makes it look effortless. My mom has immense skills. I admire her. I love her.

Right.

Let me get back on track. After that, my dad was getting lots of calls from Sharon and Leland. They were wanting him to ask me this or that. I hope like hell that I kept Helen’s secrets. I remember being so scared that if I did or said something wrong, I would disappear too.

I remember hearing our family speculating that Helen was dead while they played cards at our dining room table. That scared the hell out of me because if she was dead, that meant that me and Kevin might be next. OMG! Maybe even Bebe; because we were the only three kids there that day! They knew, that we knew, why she left!

I was so terrified that I literally told no one for decades. Not sisters, cousins, BFF or even a spouse. I honestly believed that the only reason I was still alive was because I said nothing.

Within two years, our family moved to Ottumwa, Iowa. Two years after that, I started running away. I started searching. Hunting.

CHAPTER 15: LITTLE WHITE HOUSE

Little White House. Our move to Ottumwa hasn’t happened just yet, Pally. You did? Did you think that we already moved? Of course, we haven’t moved on from all that mess yet. lol Well, duh, silly! That would be way too easy, and I would hope that by now you have figured out that we just can’t have that shit! lol Nothing is ever easy, and if it is, it be sus.

Anyway, I apologize, Pally, if I misled you. This little white house felt sterile inside and out. I think of this house, and I feel nothing. Just a void. The only significant thing that I can think of that happened here is my first experience as a stalker. Other than that, I’m sorry, Pally, I’m coming up empty. This house just never felt like a home. More like a pit stop or rest area.

Huh?

That? Lmao Oh well, there was a boy in my classroom, I think his name was Davey, who was really cute, and I just happened to get my grubby little mitts on the emergency “Call Tree.” That’s about it. Pally! I’m shocked! Now, after everything I have told you, even all my dark and uglies, you think that now I am holding out on you? Pally, what is this world coming to when my very own make-believe BFF questions my integrity? Damn it, Pally! Crap! Fine. Lol I would get sent to my room on purpose so I could call him and hang up.

There, are you happy? Ha-Ha!!! So freaking embarrassing, Pally, I can’t believe you made me tell that…my face is all red and hot, and I’m laughing like a loon in my empty office.

Well, Jax is here, but he already knows that I’m a loon.

Oh, and before I forget, I want to note here that if you are easily offended by the usage of words that may not be considered socially or politically correct; you are just screwed because you already paid for your book, and I don’t do refunds. (I don’t want to mention any names of anyone who might use such a reaction against me, but their initials might be; Karen?) (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!) BOOM!

Always read the fine print, as my Dad would advise. Mom always kept a spotless house, and this one, she had all dolled up.

Even as a kid, I could see the effort Mom put into keeping our home clean because we sure didn’t make it easy on her! Sorry, Mom! Thank you for your hard work! I love you!! ;p

I remember that winter was especially bad, and the snow was super deep.

Sometimes I would walk to school with this one kid named Spencer. He was a good kid. Super smart. By spring, Mom and Dad had been fighting so much that Mom finally had enough, so we had to leave. I’m pretty sure Dad was mostly out partying like a fiend by then.

Hey, no judgment from me, Pally. I have personally hosted some serious barn burner parties and attended way more than a few.

One night, when they were arguing after having sent us girls to bed for the night, Dora and I were listening to them through the heating vent. Dad was telling Mom that he was tired of their iceberg love life, and Mom was telling him that he didn’t know what the temperature of their love life was because he was never home.

I looked at Dora, and she looked at me, and we both started laughing our fool heads off.

We listened to them for a while, and suddenly Dora asked me if Mom and Dad were splitting up. This thought hadn’t occurred to me.

This was deeply disturbing to contemplate. The more they argued, the worse it got until Dora started crying that she didn’t want to leave Mom.

The thought of leaving Mom, was seriously breaking her heart, and I hated that.

So, I had Dora snuggle up with me, and I told her everything I could remember about our birth Mom. By the time we fell asleep, she wasn’t upset anymore, but I knew it would be short-lived. I fell asleep that night listening to Dora’s soft, even breathing and the sounds of ignorance being blasted through the house from the living room.

I knew everything was going badly, but there was nothing I could do, so I went to sleep with tears drying on my face and Dora’s hair tickling my nose.

CHAPTER 16: GOODBYE BABY SHANEZ

The next morning, Dad told us that we were moving away from Mom, Karen, and Felicia. My sister Dora was really upset by this. I was upset as well, but less so. I wasn’t that same kid that used to hunt pop cans. That kid was gone. Dad drove us to Ottumwa, and we were in town maybe an hour before Dad found a babysitter to care for us. Then he left. Leaving us with people we didn’t know.

Are ya seeing a running theme here? Yeah, I thought you might, Pally. This would have been my 5th grade year or just before I started the 5th grade. Our hostess turned out to be Dad’s cousin Marie. She was so nice. I don’t know how many days we were there, but I knew I should help out around the house if I could, so I scrubbed floors.

Our host wasn’t insulted exactly, but she was sweetly irritated, and I guess she didn’t want us to stay there anymore. I heard her telling my dad, “I don’t think she likes how I keep house because she keeps cleaning.” So we were leaving to be dropped off at some other place. When we got into the car, I asked Dad where we were going. Dad said he was taking me to Uncle Leland’s house to stay for a little while, and Dora was going to Grandma J’s. I stopped breathing, I think.

The moment he said that, my blood turned to ice, and I started shaking. I was gonna die. I just knew it! I’ve heard them all talking! I was ready to piss myself, I was so scared, but I didn’t say anything, and he dropped me off and left! I really did think that I was being taken there to die. I wasn’t wanted anymore because I was that other woman’s kid. That slut’s kid. Queenie. Oh my God! I was Daddy’s little bitch! Of course, I was going to die! We were… NO! Not we. ME. Just me! I was BAD. And I was going to be killed for it.

I am pretty sure my mind snapped that day. I thought maybe I had done something so bad that it made Dad and Mom fight, and I was now going to be gotten rid of. Or maybe this was punishment for telling Dora about our mom! Was I going to be killed for talking about Mom? Omg, I bet that’s it!

My mind was racing, and I couldn’t make sense of anything. Again, nobody told us shit.

Also a running theme, it would turn out. I was so terrified the whole time I was there!!! I know that I was there long enough to be enrolled in school, so this must have gone on for a bit. I met a kid named Danny Bullock, but that’s the only thing I can recall from that school.

Hold up, I think it was Wilson School. Yes, I’m fairly sure. I remember being glad that Dora would be gone and safe. I even remember hoping that she wouldn’t remember me. I just knew I was going to die. It was a matter of when. I kept waiting.

Day after day. I was scared to sleep, eat, or talk too much. Uncle Leland slept on the other sofa across the living room from me every night! At first, I thought that there would be a morning when I just wouldn’t wake up. That never happened. Then after a week or two, it started to almost seem like he slept there to protect me. I think he was. Then I had to wonder; if Uncle Leland was PROTECTING me, who the hell was he protecting me from? The only people left living there were Bebe, Kevin, and Aunt Sharon! I didn’t understand any of this because I had been functioning on straight adrenaline since I realized I would be staying there.

It was so bad that I had a constant humming or rushing sound/beating swooshing sound in my head all the time. At big times of fear, it became deafening. To be crystal clear. My Uncle Leland NEVER touched me harshly or in any bad way ever in my life. Never. Not even close. He was never even mean or cross with me ever. He was always just the average, everyday uncle with me. I loved him tremendously then, and I love him still, and I give zero fluffs about what anyone thinks of that.

Apologies, Pally, but to be fair, I may have mentioned that I have family issues, yes? Oh! And don’t forget about my self-inflicted head injuries, lol. The fact remains, I love my Uncle Leland, and I will until I die. I will never forgive his actions. Ever. *But when I say I love you to anyone; it means FOREVER ~ EVEN IF I NO LONGER LIKE YOU, I WILL LOVE YOU FOR ALL OF MY DAYS.

Right then. So, maybe you can see how absolutely nothing makes sense to a young me? But damn it! It’s just so much.

I was just, Ugh! I’m in sensory overload with this crap… and my thoughts feel like they are trying to scramble up. It means enough.

Omg, break time… I just can’t right now, I’m sorry. It occurred to me while I was typing that last bit; that if we; my dad, my little sister and I, were away from Mom for that long, and I know my dad was trying to get back with her, then that would mean that Mom had to know that I was staying at Uncle Leland’s house and she said NOTHING about that day Helen ran away, as far as I am aware. OMFGAWD or worse; Pally, what if she said something and nobody cared!

Believe it or not, the nobody cared scenario isn’t as far-fetched as you might be thinking it is. Maybe Mom boxes shit up like I do. I hope that’s the case. Because anything else means that I wasn’t worth protecting because NOBODY WAS TRYING to protect me from ANYTHING! Seriously though?

Who the hell knows? I mean, I knew at that point that I would, most likely, always be on my own, but I didn’t realize until I got dumped at Uncle Leland’s house that I was expendable. Read back. That’s exactly what I thought I was. So, was I expendable? Cannon fodder? Is it possible that I wasn’t worth saving? Why wasn’t I protected?

Nothing bad happened to me there during that time except a complete mental meltdown that I inflicted on myself yet tried super hard to keep on the D.L. I mean for real, Pally… WT-ACTUAL-F?? That shit just is not normal by ANY stretch of the imagination!!!

Now, back to that break I was taking. No. I am finished for today, Pally. Executive decision.

Ya know, Pally, every single day, I begin at the very beginning of my story. I sit down here at my desk and I reread every word. Toxic memories! The breakfast of champions!!! lol Yes. Fine. I may be losing it. But if you know I’m losing it, and you are still hanging around, reading my words, Pally, then you are losing it with me, so there! Now, hold onto my hand and jump back into this bottomless rabbit hole with me! As if I’m giving you a choice! Bwahahaha!!

Ok, back to earth-ish. Kevin; he was my savior during my stay there. However, Kevin, if you sue me for using your name, I will pack the door panels of your car with raw meat. I’m that cousin. Remember? Lol When Kevin would get home from school, we would hang out in his room and listen to records. He taught me about all the groups he liked and played some of the funniest songs I’d ever heard. He kept me distracted from being so scared. Even though he thought my anxiety was all about my parents breaking up. I never thanked him, but I should have. Wait, that’s not entirely true either because one Sunday, we skipped church and spent the day eating shoplifted candy and making out in… was it a cemetery? Lol, I think it was!

I rationalized this easily because there was no blood between us, so it was all good. Besides, Kevin was cute, and distractions are good. Unfortunately, Kevin lived in the house of crazy, so I don’t think any of us were working at full tilt.

“UNCLE DICK”

Now, there was one incident; and honestly, I cannot remember if it happened during the Helen incident or while I was left there with them. My dad was there, at Uncle Leland’s house for this, so maybe it happened when he picked me up; or when he dropped me off? Hell, it was one of the two. So Kevin’s uncle. Pally, I am really bad at remembering names, in case you haven’t noticed. Ok, well he has to have a name, so I am going to call him Dick, ok? Ok.

So, Kevin’s Uncle Dick had come to Uncle Leland’s house and was in the kitchen having a full-on conniption fit. Yelling, and carrying on, swearing like a belligerent drunken sailor. I think he was yelling about Helen, but it was hard to tell because he was hysterical. I know that I was standing near the kitchen doorway watching this crazy person. My dad was standing just behind me; over my right shoulder. I wasn’t saying anything. I don’t think I could have if I’d tried.

I just stood there half listening, half losing my shit. For some reason, I thought to myself, ‘this guy knows about Helen. Maybe he was part of it?’ So, he must know that I know! Omg, this psycho guy is going to get me killed!!! At that exact moment, I’ll be damned if he didn’t turn right to me and start yelling at me! I nearly pissed myself! The second he turned toward me, I started scanning the room quickly. I saw a knife to my left on top of a deep freezer and thought to myself that I could get to it before he could grab me. I shifted my feet and my body to be able to move quickly in that direction.

Then I turned my attention to Captain Crazy Pants, who was now screaming so wildly in my direction that he was spraying spit everywhere. Dude looked like fuggin’ Cujo. All foaming at the corners of his mouth and spraying that funk everywhere. I only knew one thing, and I held onto that as tightly as I could. If he makes a single move toward me, I am going to kill him. I know this in my heart. I have absolutely no doubt. I am a little kid who has just made friends with the idea of taking another person’s life. Sit with that for a moment. Roll it around in your mouth, give it a little swish before you swallow.

Now, tell me, Pally; does it taste like poison to you? It didn’t to me.

It tasted like power. Strength. It felt right. I liked this feeling. I felt like I finally had some control. What I should have been was scared of this screaming man, my Uncle Leland, and myself! All I remember was him yelling at me, “Why are you just standing there? This is your family!” I think I mumbled something about not being able to choose family, and my dad hushed me because Roger was still screaming at me. He screamed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t get your mom killed! Or had some part in it!” Holy hell, that did it for me. The room began to dim, and sounds started seeming hollow, like I was hearing it all from far away, through a tube. Everything was in slow motion for a bit. My body was ever so slowly twisting left, and I was reaching for the knife.

All around me, hell was breaking loose. My dad pushed past me in super slow motion, making a beeline straight towards Uncle Dick. Just as fast as time slowed, it now seemed to be moving at warp speed. I dipped left and grabbed. As soon as my fingers curled around the knife handle, I spun back around with the knife out in front of me.

The last thing I remember is, at some point during or after the commotion, my dad turning to me. When he looked down, he saw the knife in my hand. Then he gave me his patented “Girl, what are you going to do with that little thing?” grin/look.

After that, everything is a blank. I’ve got nothing.

I wonder if Dad remembers that day. I don’t even remember leaving there. I have yet to unbox all that mess, but what kind of ass-hat screams that crap at a 5th grader?? Jeeze, Uncle Dick was a complete wad!

I recently learned that he is still a wad and, to make it worse, he’s also a coward and he was a cop! An ex-cop going off on a kid who at least TRIED to save Helen. When she really needed someone, I was there, Kevin was there, and you were just a bit player after the fact.

I took care of foster kids in the State of Iowa for around 7 years. I was also a state kid. So, I speak from nothing less than experience when I say in the State of Iowa, it takes extremely little for social workers to remove your kids.

I have to assume that it was even easier in the 1970s! So, Pally, I ask you, why didn’t Uncle Dick just remove them? He was a cop. His word would have carried MASSIVE weight with the courts. So, why did he just leave them there? I seriously WANT TO KNOW! Why? More importantly; I want to know Why isn’t anyone asking this question?? IS THAT NOT CHILD NEGLECT? To leave them in a place of abuse on purpose and you are a sworn officer of the law?!? Am I really the only one wondering why he hasn’t been charged yet????????? Fine! Don’t charge him. I will. Right here and now.

WELCOME TO SHANEY COURT!!!!! Thank you! Thank you! Ok, let’s get started.

First, the rules. You will not be allowed to plead. Mostly because I am so, not a fan of your work.

You will not be provided nor allowed additional representation as the court has accepted your public outburst as indication of you deciding to represent yourself.

You will not be making any additional statements.

Respectfully Uncle DICK; I think you have said more then enough to represent yourself and your own agenda already, thank you.

Therefore, in light of your most uncivil actions toward my family and myself, on multiple occasions, as well as your blatant, malignant neglect for the child in question.

Also because I can’t help but think, you are an insufferable douche bag.

Now, you took it upon yourself to play the roles of, victim, accuser, judge and jury; I am guessing that you hadn’t taken the proper time to completely process the implications of your actions so I did it for you!

You are ever so welcome! Aren’t yo sweet!

Oh and you might wanna buckle up bitch, because it doesn’t get more real than this!

Sir, in consideration of the recognizable power that you had at the time in question; you have been found guilty of malignant child neglect that resulted in the eventual death of said child.

Some might even call that, involuntary manslaughter.

Not me though.

I’m just some old hysterical woman who has no idea what she is talking about. Right? Lol,

Simple common sense and various quotes about glass houses and all that.

I challenge you to show me one single adult or person with more power than that 15 year old girl; WHO DIDN’T LET HER DOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GET OFF THAT HIGH HORSE UNCLE DICK, nobody has any right to take any moral high ground in this. Not me; not anybody.

My apologies, Pally.

I am very emotional about this and I can’t help but feel that with the power that he had behind him, the fact that he just left them there to suffer, makes him as guilty as the killer.

I know that I’m just a nobody and my opinion doesn’t matter to anyone but me.

In my opinion, the inaction in this case, was as horrifying as the action that cost Helen her life. There are so many people who are guilty in all of this. Myself included. Hell, maybe me most of all.

Come on, Pally, I know it’s tempting to see me as the bad guy for yelling at Uncle Dick…but I think I was clear that I’m laying my shit out bare, yes?

Alright then, please, get that shocked look off your face and keep on reading, darlin’, because honesty doesn’t come cheap and we are on a clock.

Just because I love a person doesn’t make them exempt.

If you ever hurt me, just because you could; hope that I have forgotten about it forever.

Because, Pally, I am far from finished, and believe me, when I am finished here, we will let everyone prove the point I am trying to make.

Pally, my precious friend, I am willing to bet you that only a handful of people will bitch or say anything about me, either living in the past or needing to let go of the past.

Wanna know who those people are? Lol, do you?

They are the very same people who FUCKED UP YOUR PAST! Didn’t you read that at the beginning? Hahaha!

They think I am too stupid to see this! Or to see that they are also using my past to continue judging me! Lolololololol!

Damn that made me dizzy. Lmao, Omg just shoot me lmao!

Right here and now I need to say This.

Uncle Dick, Kevin, Greg,. Torturing Bebe for all of these years? The way you have held her father over her head is unforgivable.

If anything; you self serving bags of shit; you should have been protecting her more than ever!!

SO BEFORE YOU SCREAM ABUSE INSIDE YOUR BIG GLASS HOUSES; YOU MF’S BETTER MAKE SURE THAT IM NOT AT YOUR FRONT DOOR SHOVELING ROCKS INSIDE!!!

YOU WILL ALL TAKE CARE OF THAT GIRL FROM THIS POINT FORWARD OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL COME FOR YOU!

You are her worthless family FFS!!!!!! You can’t bring yourselves to just love her????

You are all hateful wastes of space and I hope you suffer greatly if you don’t fix this and recognize how stupid you are that I have to even POINT THIS OUT TO YOU!!!!!!

OMG people are pathetic.

See how that works, Pally? Basically, it’s ok for them to treat you like shit as long as nobody else knows about it.

Besides, what you don’t know is that Officer Uncle Dick also attended to my mother’s car accident.

That bastard attacked a young girl (me) after KNOWING, FIRST HAND, what she had been through!

So don’t you waste your sympathies on him, because nothing is EVER as it seems. Ever. And don’t waste them on me because I don’t need them. It would fix nothing. Change nothing.

At some point, my dad must have taken me with him to pick up my little sister from Gramma J’s house (also in Ottumwa). I don’t remember much about that.

Afterward, he drove us to my Aunt Jug’s apartment in Des Moines and left us there. I wasn’t scared here, mostly because I always loved Aunt Jug, Uncle Leroy, and Aunt Debbie (that’s what I called her, but she was my cousin). Also, because I had made up my mind that I was never going to be scared of anyone or anything ever again.

Maybe it is time for me to live up to my Queenie name! Who the hell did that old, haggard waste of space think he was? Screaming at me, as if it were his right!? They all do that to me though!!!! These adults. This bitch is about to come undone…right? I had some dick bag, that I had only ever seen once before, screaming at me. My dad keeps dropping us off all over the place, and now I’ve lost another mom and grandparents, as well as two sisters!!???!! WTF?

By this time, I was way past angry. Quietly seething. This was something I’d never felt before, and it was big, and it tasted of vomit and copper, and it smelled of hot ash. I had a lot of time to think while I was at Aunt Jug’s place.

It was during this stay that I think a completely different me emerged, and she was full-on pissed. I liked her! Loved her, even! I still do! I wear her all the time! This me RAWKS!! She feels powerful and strong. Triple yay to me!! I had some choices to make, but I had no idea what that entailed.

Now, I am going to treat myself to a comfortable, fluffy break because this is the first time since I started writing this that I am feeling like I am okay. <3 I am feeling more like the now me, if that makes sense. Thank you for that, my dear, precious Pally. You are my therapy, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that there is no possible way that I ever could have done this without you. XOXOXOXOXOXO

CHAPTER 17: REBIRTH

A new me was born here. In an empty apartment that held only two things: an old record player and a single record. It was a 45 rpm record. Lol, yep, it’s okay, love, you go right ahead and Google up records and 45 rpm, and I will go get my grind on and we will meet back here afterward.

Here is the link to the song that was on that record, lmao: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-uCQiu6i5JE

Looooove this music. The first thing that Aunt Debbie did was exactly what I needed.

She showed me this empty apartment and told me that if I needed time to myself, it was okay to go there any time I wanted to, and it was mine as long as I needed it. She gave me a key and everything!

I loved Aunt Debbie and Aunt Jug; hell, I loved all of them. But Aunt Jug and Debbie always seemed to know what I needed most. My own space where I could just breathe. I would sit there in the dark, playing those songs over and over again. After a while, I don’t think I even heard it.

Please don’t laugh at me when I say this, Pally, but I think maybe those songs and that apartment saved my life. During the ride to Aunt Jug’s house, I had decided that I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I wasn’t sad or depressed, I was scared and exhausted. Death and I had been having a relationship that was wildly inappropriate in its intimacy, given my age! The only way that I could beat this fear of getting killed was to die!

In the interest of complete transparency, I am not, nor have I ever been: stupidly brave, a cyborg, an alien, a superhero, or indestructible. So, we wouldn’t be able to beat anything like that because I have also never been as terrified as I had been in the recent past.

So, new plan…what to do…. My mind was swimming, making notes, planning, plotting, deciding, becoming…EVOLVING.

I replayed events over in my mind, trying hard to see them from every angle that I could. After a while, and yes, Pally, I know this sounds wonky, but it was kind of like my mind just sort of took over. Does that make sense to you, Pally, because I am feeling really dumb having typed that, lol. Yet, that’s exactly, kind of what it was like. I had started out picturing warehouses full of giant cardboard boxes.

Each box marked with which house we lived in and packed with that house’s events. I started sorting through them, consciously, labeling each one and filing them all away into the places of my mind where they seemed to hide the best.

I needed to find a way to protect the memories but not acknowledge that they existed. If I couldn’t do this, these memories would eat me alive. I don’t know how I knew this.

After a couple of days and nights dedicated to doing this, it became very exhausting. I started falling asleep instead of listening to the music and concentrating on my task. I just kicked the music on and went to sleep. I must have needed it. But day after day, my surroundings seemed a little clearer and my mind did as well. This felt vastly different than the day I arrived at Aunt Jug’s home. I didn’t realize that my mind basically told that little girl inside of me to hush up and take a nap. Lmao! I believe that my mind just sort of took over and saved me from myself. I started feeling slightly lighter and stronger every day. When I concentrated really hard and tried to picture the warehouses, I couldn’t see them as clearly as before.

After a few days, I couldn’t see them at all, and I was leery but hopeful. No cardboard boxes full of ugly. Nothing bad coming directly to mind, yet I was feeling like if bad did come, I would be just fine. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it, Pally? Just remembering those days has me feeling a little bit wistful. Sunshine and laughter. Making wishes with dandelions, making flat pennies on railroad tracks and putting playing cards in bicycle spokes.

Running and jumping through the fire hydrant water on really hot days, ice cream dripping down your hand… PALLY!!! HEY PALLY, WAKE UP!!! Wake up, Pally!! Jeeze, dude, wtf man? You fell asleep and started drooling all over my keyboard!!

Then you had some kind of muscle spasm and knocked over my BIG MOM! Pally, that’s my best glass…but ya know what? That’s okay because I got love for ya! Ya know, so…um…it’s….(motioning behind my back for Bobby to send a bill)…yeah; it’s all good.

For real though, I was getting bored ASF with my own story, so I figured I should check and make sure you were still with me.

Thought for sure I’d put you in a coma, lol! Sorry, Pally, I should have known better.

You rock, Pally. The best! Now where was I? Right! Packed and happy but cautious.

Look, all I know is this.

After I had the mess packed away, I stopped walking around in constant fear. I became a little bit more adventurous and outgoing. I smiled a bit easier and laughed more. Something had needed to be done, so I did something! Lol I packed! I was feeling stronger, clearer, and kind of self-empowered (I suppose that’s what it would be called), and that helped.

Now I needed to develop some sort of survival plan. I was ten years old, with a kid brain. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too just now! But back then?

Pally, it felt like I had armor! I am not even joking. My survival method up to that point had consisted of not drawing attention to myself in the hopes that I wouldn’t get my ass handed to me if I was noticed! That doesn’t mean that I never stood my ground up to that point because, I can happily assure you, that simply isn’t the case! I had no trouble keeping up with some of the biggest boys in the neighborhood.

But family. Pally, lately family had been entirely different than I ever could have imagined it. I felt like the Helen “thing” was smothering me, keeping me small and weak. I knew I was rabbit-jumping at shadows. I told myself this was no way to live. I didn’t know what was the way to live, but looking out of the car windows, I saw other people. So many people.

People I would never meet or know. People who will never hear or speak my name. Not one of these people looked the way I had been feeling inside for so long. I felt my newfound inner strength starting to slip.

That had to change.

It started out as mostly a pity party, if I’m being honest. I was thinking, poor me. Boo-hoo, life is so hard for me. Pathetic, yes? Yes. However, it soon evolved. I mean, I was still doing the wah-wah thing, but this time I tried to approach each one differently because nothing I’d done so far had worked. I thought of each thing done to me that made me feel weak, dark or sad.

Then I remembered all of my, ‘when I get bigger’ promises that I made to myself, many years ago when I was trying navigate the new family & peeing under the bed thing, all by myself.

These were, “When I get bigger, if someone takes this mom away or this grandma away; I will_______.” Then I would list whatever my crazy baby brain came up with. Using this, I devised a simple system for myself.

As I grew older and began to evolve as a human girl; my system evolved as well. They became much more realistic after I figured out I would never grow wings or see through walls. It worked like this.

I tried to think of the worst-case scenario happening, if I were to do this or that. By the time I had finished working on this system, I realized that I could do whatever the hell I wanted to do from here on out! If I was willing to pay the price.

That is the only stipulation. I had to be willing to pay for the price of my actions before I would allow myself to act because by then I knew everything had a price. (Pally, It would shock you; the prices I am willing to pay.)

It’s is a very rudimentary system but it still works for me. I could do this by imagining my action and then imagining the worst punishment possible, for that action. Then I would imagine it 5 times worse.

That would be the price. For the rest of my life.

Because I SAID SO. Not because of anybody but myself.

I looked at each action very carefully and then I would decide if my action was truly worth the absolute, worst price I knew that I would pay.

Then I would imagine the price was five times worse than that.

If I was willing to pay that and even more; it was a done deal.

If not, I knew I needed to take a beat and get seriously creative.

I once called Bud Irwin (Sheriff of my time) and asked him, “If I go across the street and beat the dog shit out of my neighbor, what kind of time am I looking at?”

Bud, you were always freaking awesome in my book! You are missed Sir.

I’m not even lying when I tell you that he was such a good guy that, he would actually walk me through it! What kinds of charges it would be if I did this or that. Lololol!

Hell of a guy, I really liked him.

Back to my questionable decision making.

At the age of 10, I decided: DAMN RIGHT IT’S WORTH IT! I had been molested, beaten, witnessed extreme violence, been targeted by the very adults I was supposed to trust?!?

…ENOUGH.

In that tiny dark room, I decided that Helen was right. I needed to get away from this family fast. Anyway, that’s what I came up with while sitting in that dark space, so deep inside my own head that I may as well have been a pod person.

I want to mention here that my Aunt Debbie and Aunt Jug were exactly what I needed during this time, and I do wish I’d had this revelation while they were still alive because I misjudged Aunt Jug at the end, and I am truly sorry.

I will be hauling that regret to the grave with me because I should have realized that the reasons for her actions were there in front of me, and I failed to see them.

So, the packing continued, as did the plotting, planning, improvising, adapting, and evolving. I did this almost non-stop for weeks. Sorting, sifting, labeling, and packing it all up and hiding what needed to be hidden into tiny dark corners. They were all so wrong.

They had no idea who or what I was.

I was never stupid. I was scared.

There’s a difference.

Only now, I wasn’t scared anymore, and I never would be again. I saw the abuse, jealousy, and arrogance for what it was, and I was becoming more venomous by the day. I started keeping track of pretty much everything around me. All the time. I started a list. I was angry. Always so angry. I had a feeling that before this was all over, they would wish that I had stayed that little, innocent, first wife’s kid.

Note: Before you get all smug and arrogant doing your typical ‘mean girl’ reaction, I have to ask; Do you wish it now?

Jus’ sayin…. Maybe I should have waited until the very end before asking that question, but that’s okay. No hill for a climber.

Those past events, which I am never supposed to speak of, made me kill that little girl. I didn’t even bother hiding her tiny broken body.

I just killed that sweet, trusting, innocent child inside me, and I didn’t even break a sweat.

I left that poor, pathetic little thing, lying in a pool of her own tears and blood, on the floor of that dark, empty apartment, destroyed and dead, and I never looked back.

I think of her still when I look at old pictures of her. Her big, innocent eyes. So trusting. Sometimes I even miss her, although I never really got to know her very well.

My sister Dora and I stayed with Aunt Jug long enough for me to be enrolled in a school nearby. I hated it and only went there for one or two days, lol. I refused to go back. The rest of that time, I was in that apartment, killing that kid. I should mention that Aunt Debbie was irritatingly constant in her welfare checks on me.

Thank you, Aunt Debbie. (Yes, I know she was my cousin, but there was such an age difference that’s what I always called her, and it was the same with me for Aunt Becky. lmao.)

Now, before you all go off on a Karen trip and start screaming child neglect; know this. I know how people think, so don’t get any ideas.

If I was being neglected, I would say so. My Aunts absolutely did not neglect me. If anything, they helped me evolve.

Pally, I take pride in never giving anybody the need to read between my words or to guess what I’m getting at.

Thanks to that apartment, I became very blunt and forthright. So if I say it, I mean it. If I didn’t say it, stop putting words in my mouth. OMG, that would make a kickin’ t-shirt!

Sorry, onward.

One day, Dad came to get us, and just as I was wondering what fresh, new hell awaited us, he told us that he and Mom were getting back together and we were moving to Ottumwa.

THIS IS THE DAY I LEARNED SOMETHING BIGGER THAN ME WAS AT WORK HERE. Yes, I yelled that! Lol, hush Pally, it’s my story and I will yell in caps if I want to, haha!

CHAPTER 18: OTTUMWA, IOWA

So, moving to Ottumwa! Pally, things are gonna really start rolling now! This move just gave a lovely jump start to my evolution because now I wouldn’t have to find my own way to Ottumwa! I was being taken there by my family! Perfect! I was so excited.

I was going to go find Helen and then I would bring her home with me and everything would go back to being good again. I wasn’t sure how I was going to find her, I just knew I had to try.

Wait. Pally, are you giggling at me? Naive? Dude! Shut up! Lol!!!

I didn’t even know what a speed bump was at this age and I still thought all people believed in the exact same god! I had no idea it was a BYOG, ffs.

I told you I was idealistic, so yes, fine you can add naive to that as well!

I’m going to go get a Pepsi and have a smoke. Can I get you anything, Pally? Ok. BRB.

Side note: I adore talking to you, Pally, as if you are sitting right here with me as I write this.

Thank you for that. Pally, it kind of feels like you are my own little support team. So I think of you as a stunningly, wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly flawed person, just like me! I hope that’s ok.

MARKET STREET HOUSE

So, we moved to Ottumwa, to a cute little house on Market Street. We were there for maybe a year before moving to a bigger house. During that year, my summer break before 6th grade, I got my first kiss (and another base or two) and it was from an older boy.

His name was Scott and he said he was in Jr. High School. He had brown curly hair and the most adorable dimples! And the way he made me feel when he kissed me was like nothing I had ever felt before!

We were hidden from view of the house, inside my parents’ car, and it was hotter than roofers’ balls in there, but I didn’t even care! I was all like, Holy cow! It was hard to imagine anything feeling better than that. I wanted more and more hell; I wanted it forever… he was so exciting and SEXY and he wanted to meet my mom.

(Please cue the dragging needle over record sound). Huh? That immediately set off my BITCHDAR. (patent pending)

I had only been making out with him for like, 6 hours and he wanted to meet my Mom? WTH? I lost that suspicion super fast though because he was so cute and he tasted delicious.

I was nothing more than a walking hormone by that age, so if it meant tasting those lips again, sure thing, hot stuff! I was sure I had lucked out on my first time. The way Scott had been trying to run those bases, he thought he did too! Lmao! I wasn’t going to let him get that far though.

At least not yet.

Yep, he would have to wait until we were married! Mhm, I was that girl… oh stop it! lololol!

Any old way, I was quickly convinced he was THE ONE! Come on, don’t act like you don’t know who I am talking about.

THE ONE. Prince Charming, of course! (BTW, do you think I could sue Walt Disney for making me into this creepy kid who believed in Prince Charming and Happily Ever After when there’s no such thing? NO? Fine. FU Disney!)

I was positive Scott was that guy… he was so yummy! He knew what he was doing too, which worked out great because I had zero clues.

Mhm, yes he did! Had this girl’s cooter singing!!! Yowsa!!! Let me stop right here for a minute, Pally… I need to, um, compose myself… yes I do… (muttering as I wander away)

Damn! Better than a Cinemax movie up in here… mmm. mmm. mmm. jus sayin… lawd have mercy… Woooo! Bobby might be gettin’ a lil sumin sumin mhm…jus might… @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Waiting…. Still waiting….

And I’m back! Oh! Pfffttt! Act like you didn’t! Lmao! SCOTTIE THE HOTTIE OF MY YOUTH So I take this guy up to the house to meet my mom and the first words out of that little turd’s mouth are, “I’m not seeing it.” I turned and looked at him quizzically.

Then he turned toward me and says, “I don’t think your Mom’s nose is that big. I don’t see what you were talking about.” O_O WTH just happened here?

(cue Scooby sound)

SonOfA… uuggghh!!! Damn it! Him too? Well, I’d had just about enough of this crap. It’s on! If looks could kill, the way my Mom was looking at me would have made me disintegrate right there on the spot! I never even said that to Scott, but I knew I was in for an ass-kicking as soon as he left.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? I stood there for a couple of minutes with my mind racing before finally telling Scott that maybe it was time for him to go home. Mom looked like she agreed. I was furious but calm.

Who the hell did he think he was? Another MF who thought it was okay to treat me like crap? Ah, hell no! I’m not having it. This shit stops right here. Right now. I had to decide fast. Was this going to be worth the pain I would get later?

Hmmmmm… let me think… Yes. I do believe it is.

The second I heard the click of the door closing behind us, I snagged a brick from the porch and clocked him in the back of his head, knocking his happy-ass right down the steps, bleeding all over the sidewalk! Still, I was creepy calm as I stood over that older, tasty, bleeding boy, looking down at his scared face. I didn’t say a word; I just stared at him with a straight, emotionless face.

I would never be that thirsty. I’d rather die from thirst. I did what I had to do. It was no longer a choice. If I wanted a different kind of life here, I had to live differently than I had been. So I quickly thought it through and decided that I would pay whatever price I had to pay for kicking this traitor’s ass and decided it would be worth whatever that price was.

That was my first real fight, and he was crying like a newborn as he ran down the street bleeding. I just stood there watching his cute little glow-in-the-dark butt as he ran away. When I went inside, Mom asked me if Scott had gone home. I told her that he had.

That was my first real kiss. I didn’t see him again until I started Jr. High, and I think we were both good with acting like we didn’t know each other. I don’t do betrayal of any sort. NOT EVER. I don’t give betrayal, and I will never accept being betrayed.

Even today, I just don’t have it in me to take BS from anyone.

So that was my very first heart-throbbing affair that lasted right around 7 whole hours. However, in my angry preteen girl mind, I had already been married, laid for the first time, cheated on, divorced, and not caught for the attempted murder of my Fresh Ex. (Patent also pending lol)

A productive day overall!

All this, and I had only been in Ottumwa for a couple of weeks! I was learning a lot fast. It was going to be a wild year.

The rest of that summer was pretty uneventful. I tried tanning in the yard for the first time, but that got old fast, even though I did develop an intense love for the smell of Hawaiian Tropic Tanning Oil.

Mostly, I watched TV, irritated the hell out of my sisters and parents, and waited for school to start. Stick pins, Jovan Musk, Sex Appeal, and lip gloss were the order of the day back in those times. Agree Shampoo, Hair on Tap, and “Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific” shampoos. Soul Train, Solid Gold, Dick Clark’s Countdown. The Bump, The Hustle, and The Car-wash.

Pally, do you remember the Popeye? Lolol!! The world had entered the age of satin shorts, feathered hair, and knee socks. Every kid had a comb in their back pocket. I used a curling iron and Nair hair removal cream for the first time here. I still remember counting down the days for school to start so that I could start asking around about Helen. I was on a mission.

CHAPTER 19: GRADE 6

6th grade. Day 1. I think it was 1979. First day of school. Yay. The classroom was small but nice. I didn’t have any friends yet, but that would change before the end of the day. The small classroom size made it quick work to get a read on pretty much everyone in my class. That made the entire day easier. By the end of the day, I already knew there was one kid I would want to avoid. Tim. Tim wasn’t a bad kid. He just had buckets of energy and drew too much attention to himself. You know what I mean, Pally? He would always take it just a tiny bit too far. Like, it starts off fun and next thing you know, someone gets hurt. They just take it too far and that draws attention that I didn’t want.

I kept to myself for the rest of the school day and just watched everything. My teachers and classmates, and Tim. After the last bell had rung for the day, I waited until most everyone else had cleared out, gathered up my things, and went out the door, onto the playground. I remember this so clearly. It’s kind of strange how clear this is.

Anyway, I opened the door and when I stepped outside, the sun was blinding and it caught me by surprise. I couldn’t see anything, so I dropped my eyes down and started walking forward. As I did, I heard a girl, somewhere in front of me, say, “Knock it off, Tim!” By this time, I was in shade and it was still hard to see, so I stepped deeper into the darkness and turned to see where the voice had come from.

As my vision cleared, I could see a dark-haired girl standing on the playground blacktop, holding a stack of books to her chest, and Tim was riding circles around her and he wouldn’t let her go. I moved forward and as he rode his bike past me, I kicked the back tire of his bike out from under him. As the bike skidded away from me, I saw Tim face-plant HARD into the blacktop, barely missing the tether ball pole. Tim was not a small boy by any stretch of the imagination.

For all I knew, this giant boy might just jump up and beat me to death and there wouldn’t be anything that I could do to stop him! NOTE: I obviously hadn’t thought this through. As he lifted his face from the ground and looked up at me, I knew I was dog meat. I saw him plant one hand on the ground; then the toe of one sneaker planted firmly to the ground and I knew I was done. I turned to the dark-haired girl and yelled, “RUN!!” She took off like a deer just as Tim got to his knees.

I stopped watching her and when I turned back to Tim, he was trying to get up and I saw blood running down his face and I felt something crazy weird. I felt what seemed like a million feelings at once and it made my breath catch in my throat as I looked down at him.

ANOTHER NOTE: I told you I had self-inflicted head trauma, yes? Just checking. Everything around me slowed to a near stop, and my senses were so heightened at that moment that I felt completely FLOODED by my surroundings. The sunlight seemed too bright, the shadows too sharp, and the birds too loud. I felt powerful, sad, primal, regretful, scared, determined, justified, barbaric, righteous, confused, savage, triumphant… I felt everything. It was there and gone in a flash, and I was then left standing over this huge, bloody boy who was raising his eyes to mine, and all I could think was, “Oh well crap, here we go!”

When his eyes finally locked onto mine, I was startled to see that he was crying! I felt so terrible for the pain and injury I had caused this boy, and I knew that I would never be able to make up for this terrible act! Those feelings overtook me and lasted for about 0.03 seconds, and then reality kicked in. My Dad is going to kill me!!! Even if this bloody boy lets me live! O.O Oh shit! Now I had really gone and done it! I made that giant boy cry and bleed, and now he was going to tell on me, and my Dad was gonna go off his freakin’ nut on me.

SHIT!!! What was I thinking??? How do I stop this??

Wait. I was new at school… yes! Maybe he won’t remember what my name is, so he won’t be able to tell on me… yeah! Then tomorrow, I will say sorry and give him my lunch or something. Yeah, that would work. Wouldn’t it? OMG!!!

Oh damn this big ol’ bloody kid!!! I looked down at him and just said something dumb like, “Start being nice!” really loudly. (Tough words, right?). Then I ran away from the playground straight to my house. My house wasn’t very far from the school. While I was running home, I thought to myself that I had a plan that would work and after tomorrow everything would be just fine! Those warm fuzzy thoughts gave me such an adult sense of accomplishment. Look at the big girl solving her own problems and being so grown up! What I failed to notice, while I was being all proud of myself, was one crucial fact. My house was in clear view of the school from our front porch. Color me unwarm and unfuzzied.

Yes, Pally, I messed up. That giant bloody boy now knew where I lived because he watched me run right to my front door with that dark-haired girl right on my heels. And oddly enough, that little factoid hadn’t occurred to me yet. The dark-haired girl didn’t go very far when I told her to run. She had only gone around the tall bushes that edged the playground. Her name was Carrie and as it turned out, she only lived about three blocks away from me. And I will tell you more after I take a break.

Pally, you can go ahead and listen to some Outlaw Nation W/ Jesse Howard while I’m away, if you want. Love those guys! Also Yaboi Dirty and HitMan!!! Woot!! Yes, that was a shameless plug for some excellent performers.

BRB Later that night, Carrie had gone home and, sure enough, there was a knock at the door. I peeked around the corner as my Dad opened the front door. That’s when realization hit. Doh! (Cue Facepalm GIF please) It was okay though because the deal is; if I act, I better be ready to pay the price. Now I would have to handle whatever was coming but only if my plan didn’t work. That’s my only rule for myself. Up to this point, it has been working like a charm. Or so I thought.

There, on the front porch stood a pleasant-looking, short, round lady and next to her was Tim! AKA Big Bloody Kid. cue villain music please That boy’s face was like 7 different shades of jacked up! It surprised me that I was kind of proud of that even as I felt kind of awful! Pre-teen hormones; go figure. I was learning all sorts of stuff about myself! Right about then, though, I was fairly certain that I was about to learn all about my Dad’s belt! Lmao! I had a perfect spot for listening without being seen but my Dad knew exactly where I was. (Note to younger self: Invest more into stealth, girl, because you are not even slick) So there’s this lady standing in the doorway with the big bloody kid. I skulked back around the corner cringing and I’m waiting for the yelling to begin but I’m getting nothing.

It never began. No yelling. No accusations. No death threats. No Dad screaming my name in a furious blind rage. Nothing! That silence was more unnerving than my Dad asking me if I wanted him to put his foot up my ass. (That is a whole other book and I don’t know how much life is left in me, but trust me, it’s hilarious lmao) So, I just couldn’t take the anticipation anymore! I slowly leaned forward to look around the corner once more, and my Dad is hugging that woman!!! Okay. I am now in full-on trip mode.

You get that, right Pally? I mean; WT Actual F is happening here?!? I’m spinning around looking for Mom. That was my immediate thought because I don’t know what kind of shady shit my Dad is doing right there. I did know that he could get caught and even I know that Mom is one of those quiet ones. Ya feel me, Pally? Mhm; I thought you might. Guns truly are louder than fast acting poison but, with poison you never miss. Right? Mhm, that’s her.

#1 Rule, Pally. “Don’t Piss Off Mom.” Then it happened. Dad called out for me to come to him. (and let’s drop the Psycho shower scene music right about here) I thought I was going to pass out right there! Now Dad wants to drag me into this; whatever this was? Oh hell no… Mom’s gonna kill him. Hell, she might kill them all for all I know!! Look, Pally, I didn’t know anything about this kind of stuff. Unfortunately for me, the only thing I had to work with was my moms educational Soap Opera Dramas. Only they had taught me what happens in situations like this one. According to those soap operas that Mom watched, somebody’s gonna get smoked. No, no, nope! I didn’t want any part of that. The last thing I needed was for Mom to think I was in on whatever this was! And where the heck is Mom?? This was all freaking me out lol!

So, I am dragging my feet but I am very slowly heading in Dad’s direction. When I finally get there, I’m staring at the floor. Dad asked me if I did that damage to that boy. I still stared at the floor and mumbled, “Probably.” Dad asked me what I said and he didn’t sound like he was playing around, he sounded angry. No pain no gain, right Pally? I took a deep breath, looked up at my Dad with my jaw thrust forward, squared up my shoulders, and I said, “Yep, and I would do it again.” I steeled myself to get backhanded. …nothing…what the?? I peeked out from my tightly closed eyes and looked at my Dad. He was ‘tiny grinning’ at me! Bwahahahaha! I thought my Dad was going to actually start laughing!

Dad wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the ornery side of me and I knew it. I also knew that him loving my ornery side didn’t mean I was going to be getting away with shit though. Instead, Dad gave me a tiny wink and asked me to tell him what happened, so I did. I still had to say sorry, but by the end of my story, both adults were looking at Tim with zero sympathy and then it was done. As it turns out, my Dad had dated that lady when they were youngsters in school. That is yet another theme that will burn its way throughout my adolescence and made dating a little bit tricky, but what can I say? My Dad was always a looker and he knew it too! Ha-ha!! Ottumwa had officially been introduced to me. Carrie and I spent tons of time together.

I remember one day in the fall, my stepmom’s brother Dougie was visiting our house, and so was Carrie. Dad called the three of us into the living room and offered to pay each of us if we raked up the leaves in the backyard and bagged it all up. All three of us agreed and we went outside. There were enough rakes for each of us to use one, and we started working. About 15 minutes into this, I look up and my stepmom’s brother Dougie is just standing there watching us work. I told him he better get busy if he wanted to get paid, and he laughed at me then walked away. Carrie and I finished up the work and went inside. That boy was already inside when we got there, looking so proud too. Chilling on the couch, sipping a cool drink.

Dad paid Carrie and me each $5.00, and we were fine with that. Then we all were told to go back outside to put the rakes away. The moment we went around the corner of the house, my uncle started telling us that we were such stupid girls. He continued taunting us until we got all the way around to the back. I was getting sick of listening to him and grabbed my rake and started toward the shed. That was when that little booger said something that stopped me dead in my tracks. He said, “You’re stupid because you girls did all the work and got $5.00.” I turned around and said, “Yeah; so?” He stepped right up to me, grinning from ear to ear, and said, “I didn’t have to do anything and your Dad gave me $20.00!”

IT.

WAS.

ON!

I brought my rake up and I beat that boy like he stole my cookies and I didn’t stop until I couldn’t swing it anymore. SIDE NOTE: Pally, it might surprise you to know that I’ve had relationships that began in a similar fashion. Oh! And 1 marriage I was getting better with snap decisions, but come on!!! He had that shit coming, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around him thinking that it was okay to treat me like that! Or for my Dad to treat me like that! That shit’s not normal! I’ll bet you could hear that kid bawling two blocks away! Now I was in deep shit and I knew it. Carrie was told it was time for her to go home, but I barely even noticed. I felt indignant and mad as hell. I was covered in bits of leaves, my hair was a tangled mess, I was now soaked in sweat, and I was so mad it had me panting like a bronco in the chute.

THIS WAS WAR!

LoL Seriously though, I was about to make my stand and damn the consequences! My own Dad did this! I still couldn’t believe it! Why? Because I wasn’t a boy? Well, newsflash Dad, I’m also NOT the one in the corner crying like a girl; so there! (blowing a raspberry in my mind) I’m ready; let’s do this! I’m mad as hell and ready to take it all on! I was still mad as hell when my Dad was standing in front of me; and I’m here to testify that man was way pissed! So when he screamed in my face, asking me why I did this; I squared up my shoulders, hardened my feels, and when I felt like I was solid, I raised my face and locked eyes with my Dad and I told him the truth. Probably too loudly, but I did it and it wasn’t easy.

I already knew that if I was going to even have a hope of surviving this lifetime, I had better get really good at doing the hardest things. I WAS GROUNDED FOR FREAKING EVER!!! Lmao,

Dad whooped my ass with his belt and that super sucked but I had it coming and I was good with that. Hurt like a mutha though.

Carrie and I still hung out a lot. We were mostly at her house which worked out perfectly for me. It gave me a distance that I seriously needed even though I didn’t know that at the time. During that first year, we had lots of adventures. There was this Rhinestone Cowboy incident that I won’t be getting into, lol. School trips, and there was a colossal bike accident that left us both looking like abused rag dolls, all covered in dirt and blood, lol. My mom fixed us both up right as rain! Another time that I can recall was with my sister Karen. I loved making her laugh. A neighbor lady had given me a stuffed Kermit the Frog toy. It had these really long arms and legs. I would make that frog dance for Karen, and she would laugh so hard! I would sing some song I had heard on TV, and I don’t know what it was called, but it says, “So I walked in the joint.” Wait!!! “Hey Big Spender!!!” Hahahaha! That’s what it was! Lol! She just loved that! And on days like today, when my back would hurt so freaking bad, she would lie on my back so that we were back to back, and we would just talk about everything and nothing. Before the next school year, my family and I were moving into a larger house on Ottumwa Street.

CHAPTER 20: HOUSE ON OTTUMWA STREET This was my favorite house. It was this huge barn-shaped house, and my dad added this huge covered porch onto the front, which made it absolutely perfect! As far as my childhood goes, we lived here the longest. Which is why it was at this house that all of my planning would try to come to fruition. But it’s a little bit early for that. First, there are my criminal charges. Pally, the shocked look on your face just tickles the shit out of me! Haha! Carrie and I got busted shoplifting at a drugstore. Then we got handcuffed and put in the back of the police cars. Yes, lmao, they sent two cop cars, hahahaha! That was how I met Captain John Riedel. (I don’t think I am spelling that right and he doesn’t pop on Google for me anymore.) My Mentor and My Friend

Actually, he was my probation officer, but I adored him. I truly did, even if he did lock me in a cell! lol Don’t freak, it was just us goofing off. He was so funny and smart. Very kind man. He was a good man who taught me so much, and I listened to him closely. At some point, my dad noticed that I didn’t seem to be getting punished during my PO visits. Maybe because I loved PO Day! To me, it was the best day of the week! So, he put a stop to all that nonsense, lmao! I honestly cannot remember if I told him about Helen. Here’s the problem with me telling or asking anyone about Helen. It wouldn’t have helped because a child was never found! She was listed as an adult. Nobody looking for a teen’s body would be looking at adult bodies, right? They would be looking to see if any teenagers had been found. Right.

Now, having said that; anyone in power that I may have talked to about Helen likely thought I was insane. Insanity does not lend itself well to any serious investigation. So, my comments and questions would have been written off as crazy talk from a crazy kid. Which explains why nothing happened after I told Officer Rempe about her in the early 1980s.

He was genuinely interested in what I was telling him. Now I am here to testify that Officer Rempe was an excellent cop. Fair, funny, no BS kind of guy. He always had my respect. I had been sitting on the stoop one day, at the shop next door to The Hole Arcade. Officer Rempe was kind enough to stop by to say hello and to ask if I was on the run this time, lol. Had I been on the run, he never would have seen me to begin with and he knew that. Lol! Knowing the kind of man he was, back then, I guarantee that he looked into Helen and didn’t see her. Nobody would have seen her. How could they? That dead teenage girl didn’t exist on any record, anywhere on this planet or any other.

I missed the Captain, but I suppose that I had learned everything I was supposed to learn there. That’s how it was starting to feel, too; like I was going where I was supposed to go and doing the things I was supposed to do. Not by choice alone. Mostly like being dragged. Just like that kid being dragged through the grocery store; only this was feeling more like a puzzle on a path. Does that make sense? Anyway, the Capt. was good for me. Okie peeps, it’s break time.

My back is screaming today. Stupid rain. And to think I used to love the rain!

My First Summer on Ottumwa Street My first summer on Ottumwa Street, I was mostly out in the country at Carrie’s new home. Her mom, Gloria, had married an awesome guy named Pete, and I adored both of them. Pete always called me Pally, and for some reason, it always makes me grin even now. Looking back, it seems to me that that was the longest, best summer I can remember. It seems like it stretched on and on. It was pretty awesome. I was doing all kinds of new things! Running through the woods, playing in the creek, calling in song requests on the radio, and making cassette tapes from it. AC/DC was huge at this time. Omg and KISS! Carrie’s brother; let’s call him, Dude, was their biggest fan. I was crazy about Journey. “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” was my favorite song because that style music speaks to me. No that’s not right Pally…. It tugs at me.

Like; tugs with a purpose. Ugh! I can’t explain but I really wish I could because it is all encompassing to me if it tugs hard enough and that is such a beautiful thing that I wont even attempt to describe it. I drank fresh milk, right after skimming off the cream. At one babysitting job that Carrie and I got, I found a huge gun and took it outside (all kids were inside with Carrie, inside the house behind me) and tried to shoot the mailbox. I gripped the gun with both hands and took aim. Looking straight down the barrel and lining up the sights. This gun was really heavy and hard to hold on point, so I had doubts about hitting my target, but what the hey, may as well try it. I slowly squeezed the trigger and holy-mother-of-everluvin’-BOOM!!! That gun literally puked fire as it threw me backward and forced my arms up in the air. It threw my 70-pound frame straight back, and I landed hard, flat on my back. I had no idea where that bullet went, but I didn’t think it hit the mailbox. Carrie came flying out of the house, and I’m pretty sure she was cussing up a storm at me, but I couldn’t hear anything, lol. I also had the wind knocked out of me, so I’m fighting hard to get air. Her eyes were huge, and she was freaking out. About two weeks later, Gloria, acting all casual, tells us that one of their neighbors said they had a cow get shot in the ass and wanted to know if we knew anything about it. That house was nearly a half mile away! Carrie and I looked at each other, then we looked back at Gloria, both of us shaking our heads no. ROFL!!

CHAPTER 21: RED HAIRED MIDGET GAVE ME A BEAT DOWN

One day that summer, me, Carrie, and all of her brothers and their girlfriends went to the balloon races. One of the girls had recently learned to French braid and offered to braid my hair. I guess it looked okay, but I probably wouldn’t wear it like that again. So we went, and we had a pretty good time. No drugs or drinking, just fun. As we were leaving the park, I noticed my family was camping there, and we headed in that direction to say hi. From where we were, I could see that most of my dad’s siblings were there with their kids, and I could see my grandparents were there too. That would be my dad’s mom and her husband, AKA Gramps. I was excited to see them; it had been a while. As we were walking up, my grandma (dad’s mom) comes charging right at me, screaming something about me being a rotten little bitch and saying, “Are you just going to let that girl (pointing at Carrie) flip off your Dad?” I was all like, what? I tried looking to my family to see if they had any idea what the heck was happening. Some were looking shocked, some were looking away, and some were laughing and covering their mouths to hide it. So, I turned my attention to this dinky red-headed tornado coming at me, mouth wide open and fists in the air, and I was trying to explain that Carrie would never do that to Dad because she was close with my folks. When Grandma finally reached me (she was 4’11″ on her stubby little legs), she drew back, and I saw her fat little fist closing, and I knew what was coming.

I probably even had time to avoid the blow. She wasn’t fast or anything. I was just so stunned that I was being physically attacked by my GRANDMOTHER for NO REASON. While the entirety of my Dad’s family did NOTHING! Not my Mom. Not my Dad. Nobody. I swear to god I hated every last one of them that sat there and allowed that to happen, and I’d never truly hated anyone before. This feeling ran deep and dark. It felt like hot coals in my stomach, and that was when I knew it was nearly time to go find Helen. Change of plans though, I wasn’t going to bring her to my parents; we would start over together. I turned towards them all and I yelled as loud as I could, “THAT IS THE LAST TIME ANY OF YOU MF’s PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME! I WILL KILL THE NEXT ONE; YOU CAN BANK ON THAT.”

Then, Carrie was at my elbow saying, “Come on, let’s just go.” She guided me over to the car, all the while swearing that she didn’t do that. I knew she hadn’t. My Grandma J was a freaking psycho! Don’t get me wrong, I love them all because they are family (except for the obvious). That doesn’t mean they were ever good for me. I assured her that I knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, and we left the park. So that pretty much wrapped up that summer; a couple of weeks later, it was time for me to head back home and get ready for school to start and act like nothing bad happened because that’s what we do. I was going to be in 7th grade. Junior High. That first year in junior high, Carrie and I were both kept pretty busy with different classes, and we started growing apart as people usually do. But there was a girl who lived half a block away, and her name was Eva. We had loads of classes together and became best friends really fast.

We walked to school together and back home together almost every day. Her folks, Ronnie and Delores, were pretty cool, and I liked them a lot. Eva and I were nearly joined at the hip through most of 7th, 8th, and 9th grades. When I wasn’t on the run, that is. Eva was there for me through several boyfriends, and I was there for hers. Eva had decidedly more than I did, mostly because I wasn’t outgoing like that. I was more tomboyish, I suppose. I liked basketball, track, volleyball, art, and American literature. I was at this school when the first computer came out, lmao!!! OMFGAWD a list!!! Now I have to make a list hahaha!! Ok, Eva and I were BFFs through: the first computer, cordless phones, disk film cameras, Lee Press On Nails and K-Tel, car phones, mopeds, BubbleYum, Bubblicious, and Hubba Bubba!!! Also, The Muppets, The Gong Show, Vanderbilt clothing, ORIGINAL NIKES!! We both had the red swoosh. We found the beef and discovered Who Shot JR, and we loved arcades and MTV. We were jealous of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and loved Pac-Man and lip gloss.

We remained friends for several years after we were both out of school, but eventually, I wandered off, as I am prone to do. We managed to survive all of these boys with my creative writing skills. Nobody could write a better “You are an ass and I don’t need you” letter than I did. We would stay up entire nights as I composed 10 and 12-page letters to Eva’s boyfriends. There were wheat leaf penny nights at Skate Land and the drive-in movies. In 8th grade, I started seeing Carrie less and less and then finally not at all. I found out later that she was pregnant by her stepbrother. After she gave birth, I went back out to stay the night with her at her parent’s house. Her little girl was so adorable! It was nice to spend time with her, but it was also a little sad because we had very little in common anymore. After that, we pretty much went our separate ways. Well, my lovelies, I think I’m going to have to tap out for today.

My back hurts so much, and I’ve gotta say that getting old sucks butt. More tomorrow! Muah!! Grey, rainy, sleepy day. I wonder how many pages I would have to type to turn this shit show into a novel. Because, after font size correction and all of the editing with paragraphs, sentence structure, grammar, and punctuation, I assume that it would fill a different number than I am seeing at the bottom of this notepad program. Just as I was scrolling down to reach this point in my musings, it occurred to me that it now takes me a bit longer, and seeing as I only recently entered junior high in my story line, I wonder if musings just like this one, lol, will make me have to break it down into mini novellas or something like that. I wanna give a huge shout-out to My Wizard Guy for going above and beyond to keep Robert’s Wifey a happy-happy woman! You, Sir, are a Prince and a Scholar. I thank you. Lol.

All righty, my lovelies; where did we leave off? Running Away It is supposed to be warmer today and no rain, so I am going to try to get a jump start on writing this so that this afternoon, I can go outside and build a primitive awning over my patio. My youngest sister, Karen, wants to know why I started running away to begin with, so let us start there. One day, I don’t remember what I did wrong, but I can guarantee that I did something, lol.

Anyway, Mom and I were arguing about something, and it was really heated. I was backed up to the bathroom window upstairs, and Mom was straight whaling on me after having dragged me up the stairs by my hair. I kept backing up until I was pressed right up against the window tight, and when Mom hit me next, I broke the glass with my ass, and there was no place left to go but down to the ground or through Mom. I then decided that I had had enough and I drew back my fist to start fighting back (I had never done that before), but before I could throw hands, I heard my youngest sister Karen behind my Mom saying, “No Shaney, don’t hurt Mom!” That shocked me back to reality because I was getting the brakes beat off of me; so, I dropped my hands to my sides and just stood there, in shock, to let whatever was going to happen just happen and get it over with. Nobody ever said, “No Mom, don’t hurt Shaney.” Not once in my life has anyone ever said to anyone else, “Don’t hurt Shaney.” That night, I did my chores, and when I took out the garbage, I just kept on going. Karen was my heart and soul, and I loved her so much, but now I was the bad guy in her eyes who hurt Mom, and Karen deserved better than that just as I couldn’t stand that she would see me that way. That hurt me deeply, but she was just a little girl and had no idea the impact it had on me. Watching us fist-fighting? That’s not normal. She didn’t need that. None of them did, and neither did I.

My first time on run, I wandered for a really long time and when it got dark, I knew I would have to find someplace to sleep for the night. There was this guy that I used to see walking around town all the time. He always wore a medium brown colored, slick, leather dress jacket. By slick, I mean it wasn’t suede. His grey hair was always slicked back and he wore a gold colored ring with a large red stone in it. I can’t remember if I ever knew his name. Anyway, I saw him walking downtown and, for lack of anything better to do, I started following him. He was headed toward the river and I saw him duck beneath the Jefferson Street viaduct. There were already three other guys under there. All of them older men. They had a small fire going and I saw a some sort of canned food sitting in the fire. I watched them for awhile. They acted like a good family, joking around with each other having lots of laughs.

I looked around and then decided to head over to Market Street. Down the left side of Market Street Bridge, there was a worn footpath. I assumed it was made by fishermen. I followed the path down and when it cut off under the bridge, I followed it. It was summer so the weather was warm then and the wind coming in from the water was cool and reeked of dead fish. I had no food so there was no need for a fire. I curled up, hidden, deep into the furthest corner under the bridge and went to sleep. I knew I would have to wake up early and get out of there if I didn’t want to get caught. I lived under that bridge off and on, as needed throughout all of my years running. Believe me or don’t I have no fucks to give.

Nearly everyone I have ever loved is already dead so why would I care? I am feeling dark and salty today and I have no idea why. All I do know is that I want to finish this book and get it sold because I need closure. I need to be done with this. I need for it to be over. I don’t want to be thinking these thoughts and feeling these feelings.

Today I realized that the reason I am writing this.

The bottom line, boiled down to concentrate reason; is because I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE. Absolutely, positively NOTHING.

What does a woman do when she has nothing left to lose? She does THIS! She tells the story of why she has nothing left to lose.

It gives the opportunity to give recognition and appropriate appreciation, to those who helped you reach this obscure emptiness.

Thank you for always doing right by me.

Thank you for making safe choices for me when I was too young to make them myself.

Thank you for feeding on the corpse, that was my life and trying to use my kids.

Thank you for every time you kicked me when I was down.

Thank you for your narcissistic ways and the hateful things you have said to me about my mom and grandparents over the years.

o my son Shaun; than you for using my grandchildren against me so that I could finally see with my own eyes who you really are. You are not my son. You are not the son I loved and raised.

Thank you to those of you who pretended to be friends only to bite me in the back like a coward or turn on me not even trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.

All of you have managed to teach me, how to be EVERYTHING you cannot be.

Because of that; I managed to grow into a more thoughtful, loving and appreciative, parent, step-parent and human being.

You are awesome like that! Thank you.

CHAPTER 22: ANTHONY

One of the last times I ran away from our house on Ottumwa Street, there was a boy who lived across the alley from us. Anthony. We had been friends for so long that I loved him and his little sister like they were my own siblings. I really loved their mom, Tina, as well. I didn’t know their dad, Chris, as well as I did Tina, but I knew that he had a quick temper, and Anthony and his mom saw the better part of those times. I’m not saying Chris was a bad guy; I’m just saying that he was entirely too heavy-handed with them both, in my opinion. My dad had to call him off of Anthony one time that I remember. I was so glad he did too.

I believe that day Dad saved Chris from making a mistake he would have regretted forever. It got savage, and that was sad because I knew that Chris loved those kids. I also know that Tina loved her family more than anything, and I felt bad for her. She was so nice, and to be on the receiving end of all that as well as knowing her son was on that same receiving end? It just seemed like an insurmountable hill for any woman to have to climb alone. Tina had no family in Iowa, if I recall correctly; she was from California, so for a long time, I was her emotional support, and I was just a teenager, but she was okay with that, and so was I. The relationship between Tina and Chris continued to deteriorate while I was busy running away. I wanted to help Anthony, but I had to find Helen; so I kept on running away and returning over and over again. I couldn’t explain my mission to Anthony or anyone else. It was something I had to do. It was never a choice, but had it been? I would have done the same. On that run, I made it as far as downtown before I heard Anthony calling my name from somewhere behind me. I stopped and let him catch up.

He wanted to go with me. Oh god, if he only knew how badly I wanted to take him with me. To save him. I knew what he was going through, and I wanted to save him, and it was killing me to know that I couldn’t. I knew that if I took him with me, Tina might be far enough gone that losing her son might have been the end of her. She had been THAT depressed. I also knew that the police would be called, which was NOT something I normally had to worry about, and at my age, kidnapping charges wouldn’t help me find Helen. My dad only called the cops once, I think. He was cool with me like that. Thanks, Dad! I LOVE YOU! If the police were looking for Anthony, I wouldn’t get very far. Besides, I was used to starving and sleeping in snow, rain, and extreme heat with no shelter, and bathing in cow ponds and laundromats.

Unfortunately, I was also used to pervs trying to molest me and men always trying to go way too far until they saw my knife, and Anthony had never lived like that before. Besides, the first time Anthony saw anyone trying to hurt me, he would have gone full-on Tasmania on them! We were super tight like that. I would have killed for him, but I couldn’t give up on Helen for him. He had never even seen me be the kind of person who could live the way I did while I was away! I was afraid that taking him with me could do him more damage than if I told him no. So, I choked down my tears and I told him no, and then I turned and walked away bawling my eyes out. That was the last time I saw him.

However, thank you, Facebook! I see him on the reg now, and he is doing great and is crazy happy with a beautiful woman and gorgeous kids, and that always makes me smile! Usually, when I make choices like that, they don’t turn out well. I’m happy this time it did; seeing him happy means the world to me. He may very well be the only mistake that I didn’t make in my life. I love you, my friend!

CHAPTER 23: THE HOLE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

As a teenager, I did all the usual teenage stuff. I hung out at the arcades in Ottumwa, Iowa. Twin Galaxies and The Hole. Mostly The Hole because I had a sick, twisted, lusty kind of love for Sam’s Barracuda. Sam owned The Hole. Omg! I remember there was this couple of teens who hung out in these same places at that time. I think their names were Bobby and Julie. Anyway, they were the most beloved couple ever. Seriously, all of us that hung around down there adored these two. We were all there throughout everything in their increasingly dramatic lives, from them fighting against their parents so they could stay together, their wedding, and finally their firstborn baby.

They were our very own, living, breathing soap opera right there in the arcade! And then after the baby was born, they split up. Talk about anticlimactic! Pally, you would have thought I’d have learned something from watching everything they went through. Wouldn’t you? Nope. I learned nothing, lmao! But those two crazy kids and that baby? Loved them to pieces! We all got pulled into this couple’s world, and they were so beautiful together! All of us were rooting for them to have a happily ever after. When I saw that they weren’t going to have that kind of ending, I knew there was no such thing. I am still super pissed off at Disney, FYI. You’re lucky I can’t speak to you directly, Mr. Walt, or I would turn my sister, Karen, loose on you so fast it would make your head spin! Something just tells me that she could build an amazing court case. I also noted that when the couple split, Julie kept the baby and Bobby ‘got on with his life.’ See that? He gets on with his life, and she gets to raise his kid. Does that look pear-shaped to anyone else? Yet, that’s the way it has always been. Just sayin’.

CHAPTER 24: TEENAGE GRAVES and First Boyfriends

Right, Jr High. I think it might work best if I just kind of lump Jr. High and High School together. I’m feeling like that period of my life isn’t necessarily two separate stories; rather, it’s more like one really long, boring, drawn-out ongoing story. lol

This period is about so many things, but the one constant underlying purpose that has been there since the moment I touched the first key to write this has been her. Helen. This is where I became who I needed to be so that I could survive doing what I felt I needed to do. This is everything I did in that tiny dark apartment, all starting to come together. I did feel stronger now than I did back then. I think I am ready now. Am I? Yes. Maybe.

I have to be, don’t I? I do. It’s not about me. Wait, what was that? Is that…? Omg, I can feel it…that change, that shift in energy…something; like a tidal wave building only it’s full of this energy; electricity. Feels big and scary. It’s coming…Can you feel that? That invisible power prickling your skin just enough to make it just barely noticeable? Like a thunderstorm getting all revved up…you can just feel it coming; smell it in the air…it’s coming fast… That is how times like that always make me feel…as if I have been just waiting for it…it’s terrifying and thrilling all at once. Always, in spite of myself, I wait. Excited and kind of afraid. Feeling the adrenaline take over and I dearly love it now… But back then? I was just terrified.

I knew it was going to happen Pally, I just didn’t know when. Every day, I attended school and acted like a regular teenager. I had good times and bad times. I was normal. I stole stuff and smoked cigarettes, smoked weed, drank booze, cheated on tests, I got dumped and I did some dumping. I had friendships come and go and like I said, just a regular teenager. Now Pally, I want to mention that we lived in that house on Ottumwa Street, all the way into my second marriage so, in dog years, that’s pretty much forever. Before I start down the path of no return; and that’s exactly what this part is. I would very much like to just tell some stories of things that occurred while I was there.

It was in this house that some of the weirdest things happened. Things that I can’t explain. Mostly because I was too embarrassed to just admit I didn’t know or to at least ask questions! Lmao! The first thing that happened was this painfully cute boy started coming over to visit me. He would come over pretty frequently that first year. After a while, it seemed that somehow, he became my boyfriend. He knew my name and where I lived. He talked about our school and yet I NEVER saw him at that school. NOT ONCE! He carved our initials on a lower branch of my dad’s olive tree. “DC+SJ” (I am pretty sure those were his initials and I’m positive those were mine, lmao) <3 Sweetest boyfriend ever! I loved you boyfriend!!!!

We would talk for hours and hours about everything and nothing. He was so cute and sweet and kind and romantic; he was the perfect boyfriend! He was the best! The only thing that could have made him more perfect; would have been for me to pull my head out of my butt and figure out who the heck this boy was! I mean, we had been seeing one another for nearly a year and I still had no clue even WTF his name was!! He used to ask me if I even knew what his name was, and I would say, “Of course I do!” He would want me to tell him, and I would say something flirty and coy like, “Only if you can catch me!” then I would run like hell, haha! Or, “If you don’t remember your own name, I don’t think I should tell you!” This was and is still the purest, unblemished, sweetest relationship I have ever had with another human being in my whole, entire life! TRUE STORY!! One day he came over and he was crying.

It instantly broke my heart to see him like that, and I asked him what was wrong. He said that his mother had gotten a job far away and they had to move. I really was so sad! He was so broken up by having to tell me this, and also I really, really liked him even if I didn’t know his name! I knew WHO he was. I knew WHAT he was. He was seriously sniff the perfect boyfriend! Sigh I still miss you sometimes boyfriend. The worst part is that I haven’t had a relationship that good since then!!! I miss you, DC!!! I loved you, boyfriend! I really did miss him when he was gone. I think about that time often, and it just makes me smile. Now, normally I would just chalk up that sweet, sweet puppy love as a fluke, but that wasn’t the only time that something like that has happened to me! One time in Ottumwa, Iowa, I was walking in a hella thunderstorm, and there was dirty snow on the ground, I think.

It was early evening but really dark outside, and I was soaked to the bone and freezing. I had no place to go because I was on the run. One of the billion times, lol, so I was just walking alone. That’s what I usually did; keep moving at night. Always alone. Mostly because they can’t catch me if they can’t see me, and if I’m alone, I don’t get anyone else hurt. Well, that and it was easier to hitch a ride at night because that’s when the creeps are out shopping, and frankly, I was always rather cute, lol, and no, I was never afraid of the creeps. Anyway, there I was, freezing and wet, headed to this abandoned house I knew about where some friends had stashed some triple sec and vodka.

I figured that should warm me up a bit, and maybe I could get some sleep in the morning. It wouldn’t be very warm, but it would be dry, so that worked. So, I was walking in that direction. It was near a McDonald’s, and as I walked, a pale beige or maybe champagne-colored car pulled up. This dark-haired girl poked her head out and called me by name, and when I stopped and looked over at her, I had no idea who she was, although she looked to be about my age. She didn’t even look familiar. I think she said her name was Sara, maybe? The next thing I know, she is talking away and guiding me by my arm into McDonald’s, where she bought me a coffee. We talked for a bit; I don’t remember any of it because I was still shocked that she knew me. Within about 10 minutes, her mom drove back around to pick her up. The girl asked me if I had a place to stay, and I told her that I did and thanked her; then she left.

I watched her go and then just chuckled and made my way to the abandoned house. This has happened to me multiple times in multiple cities. Some cities that I’ve never even been to before! Somebody will just up and walk up to me and call me by my correct name and offer to help me. So to all of you who have in the past or might in the future, help me in even the tiniest way; I am humbled by your grace, and I deeply appreciate you. That’s some strange stuff, but that’s my world, lol.

Tomorrow, I am going to attempt to get through the teenage years, so be sure to eat your Wheaties before reading more because it’s quite a whirlwind. Thinking about it gives me motion sickness, lmao! For today, though, this old woman is tapped. Lol.

A QUICK NOTE TO ALL MY LOVES:

You know, Pally, I really do want my family, especially ALL of my kids, to know that whatever it is that I have become, or may become after everything is purged from me, I wasn’t born like this. It’s important that I tell them the truth of who I was and where I come from because I NEVER lied about anything to do with my life. I couldn’t make that stuff up!!! It’s all too ludicrous even for me. Life is full of sharp edges, and we all end up getting stabbed and cut by more than a few of those edges. I suppose that I want them to know that I always tried really hard to do the right thing, even if it didn’t seem like it. You never had to understand me, but I always hoped that I earned your trust and maybe a modicum of respect.

I refuse to apologize for the choices I have made regarding my birth children. However; I can never apologize enough for the pain it has caused them. Mostly because, in regards to my birth children, those choices had all been made for me while I was at work. So no. There will be no apologies forthcoming.

Pally, may I please have a moment to address my family directly? Thank you, my dear friend. I love you.

If that is why you are reading this; any of you; if you are looking for an apology, you probably won’t be getting one here. I already apologized to Dora for trying to kill her and frankly, I never did anything wrong to the rest of you.

No worries though, I know how you dig attention, but how about I just ask Pally to go make all of you some tall, icy, cool, glasses of STFU instead? Yes? Doesn’t that sound lovely? Of course it does! But, hey! Thanks for buying my book!

I am currently remembering one person that I owe an apology to: Shaun Graves. A quiet, white-haired boy that I went to school with and whom I punched in the face on a dare. I know I apologized back then, but I still feel terrible. I am forever sorry. Truly. As for the rest of you throughout the human race: have I ever done one damn thing to you that was worse than what you have done to me? If I have, contact me and I will apologize properly; if not, you can go eat a bag of dicks because I don’t owe you a damn thing. If you are still deluded enough to think you will get an undeserved apology from me, come take it from me. I wish you would try. I’ve been ever so bored. Good night, darlings.

CHAPTER 25: LOOKING FOR TWO OF US

I have a memory that I am not positive is a memory. I may have dreamed it. The point is, I may have been there when this happened or I may have heard about it happening and dreamed that I was there. I think that about each memory that comes out to play. I doubt myself. My cousin Tuffy. So, Pally, if you don’t mind, I am going to go give him a call right now. I want to make sure I get his facts 100% correct. Besides, he is one of the very few cousins that I have left. I will be right back. Ok, I am going to bare bones this one only because that is not my story to tell. I can assure you though; that shit aint normal.

TUFFY Right. The winter of 1981, I can remember Dad getting a phone call that Aunt Ruth had kicked out her oldest son, Tuff. I don’t remember why it happened though. I do remember telling my Dad that we needed to go find him because he was only 13! Just a young kid! He said to me, “What the hell do you expect me to do?” I said, “We have to go find him! Bring him home, Dad! He could live here with us!”

Dad told me there was nothing he could do because Des Moines was a huge city. Dad is pretty subtle when he changes his mind about something. Meaning that there is a chance that my Dad had second thoughts and went looking for him on the D.L., never telling anyone about it. It’s really hard to say because he would occasionally show up at our house, alone just to visit. I loved it when dad did that. When Dad said that there was nothing he could do though, I’ll be honest; it broke my heart. Twice now, and who was making an effort for either of them? I don’t think I had ever felt more sad. I made up my mind that while I searched for Helen, I would search for him too. I never found either of them. I wish that I was better at explaining things, but I’m going to try.

My memories, since starting this book, have been floating around in my head. They surface, give me a glimpse, and then disappear. This happens no matter if I am asleep or awake, so sometimes they float together, intertwining around one another like long-separated lovers, reunited at last. I have no more control of it now than I did at my birth. When I began unpacking Helen, I only had to barely peek inside before it pushed me aside and opened the floodgates, and now there’s no going back. I am remembering too much at once. It hurts. I hate this. The way I am feeling right now is, ineffable. I feel so small, dark, lost, and exposed. It’s incredibly unnerving. Sometimes, as I write this, I realize that I have been holding my breath and I’ve no idea for how long.

Do you ever get like that, Pally? When I was younger, I often dreamed of drowning. It was a weird kind of dream because each time I had it, I knew that I was drowning, yet I wasn’t. Not really. What’s more, I wasn’t even afraid. When I was young, I was terrified of deep water. In my dreams though, I was more frustrated, I think. Because in my dream, as long as I took only the very thinnest of breaths, I was okay. I know that during these dreams, I was breathing like this in reality because some nights I would do this for so long that I would wake up, gasping for air. Never scared though. I would imagine that everyone has drowning dreams, so I don’t think there was anything to it other than I was asleep and trying to suffocate myself, lol. I need something…..something…..!

BRB! French Narrator: Two thousand years later… Okie, I am back & tattered with a huge chocolate caramel frappe from Micky D’s! Yay to me! Now I’m going to take this on a lighter note. Stories from when I was on the run. I was originally going to add this as bonus content at the end, but I am feeling like I should nestle it in right here just to break the tension a little.

Is that ok with you, Pally? Thanks!

Run Away Stories Well, I once lived under a bridge right downtown on Market Street in Ottumwa. It worked out okay but got cold AF in winter. I hitchhiked through Iowa for so long that I ended up getting rides from regulars! lol Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, had a tiny red Carmen Gaia. Hey T. Herman!! I still want your car!! Ft. Madison, Iowa, would have been Larry K on his bicycle. lol Keokuk, Iowa, for a while there; I could catch rides on the river boats. They used to have a decent Girl’s Home there in Keokuk where I lived for a time. Side Note: My first BIG LOVE happened in Keokuk. wink wink! He was dynamite!!!! LMAO!!

Khan Hinn from Burlington. There was Joe from the Mt. Pleasant Mental Health Hospital and Frank from the Ft. Madison Penitentiary. Bill Gaylord and his wife in Burlington, Iowa, or maybe it was Ft. Madison, Iowa. Wow, I cannot remember at all but I’m going to go with Ft. Madison, Iowa. Lol That guy had a brilliant mind, an amazing wife, and such a pretty baby girl named Andromeda Star. She was truly beautiful and I loved her like a little sister. Bill and his wife were like parents to me for a short time. Then Bill called my Dad to come get me. It broke my heart; I felt so betrayed because I really did trust Bill and his wife. I didn’t trust them enough to tell them about Helen, or did I? I can’t remember now.

While I was out there, Bill and his wife were as close as I had to parents, so yeah, I might have told them… UGH! I wish I could remember! They were both always good to me. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t want me. Bill said it was because I wasn’t like the other kids that came around and he saw great potential in me. He thought that one day I could be a great author. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Bill, but I was always just the Valkyrie hiding the sins of my elders. I waxed a bit poetic in your honor, Sir. :) I could be wrong, but I do believe that Bill’s father had been a college professor. He thought he was doing right by me, and I love him for it, but boy did it ever break my heart.

I also remember one winter, I ended up in Ft. Madison again and it was so freaking cold. I can’t remember exactly how I got there, but this boy had a single mom who worked long hours, and he had no siblings that I can remember. He let like 15, maybe 20 of us kids sleep in his attic! We were all bundled up in like 2 or 3 beds and it was freezing up there, but better than outside. We were up there for the longest time before his mom found out and that flipped ALL her switches!! One boy who was almost always a constant in my life throughout my teen years was Karl. All the way through junior high, high school, and me becoming a mom, he was my on-again off-again boyfriend/BFF.

Karl and I spent so much time together that my Gramps (Dad’s Stepfather) freely told anyone who would listen that my baby was Karl’s. At first, I tried to shush Gramps, but then I realized nobody gave a shit and I stopped worrying about it. I will admit that at first, I was worried that my son might view me in a darker light if I told him that I didn’t know who his dad was. But then, I made it my mission to raise my kids with honesty. From there, it was their choice to judge me or not. So, I was always honest with all of my kids about who I am as well as who I used to be. Not to flaunt my past but to show my kids that I trusted them with the REAL ME. I trusted them with ALL of me. My heart and my soul. My good and my bad. My thinking was that if I showed them the real me and they loved me anyway, then maybe they would know that they could be real with me and I would still love them. ALWAYS.

I wanted them to see me with no mask and still love me; just as I love them. I never had a parent persona. I loathed the role of dictator over my kids. I just loved my kids right out loud for the universe to witness.

Sorry, Pally, my ADHD is in overdrive today. Back to Karl. He drove this old huge, 3-blocks-long junker that I named Gandhi. To look at this car always made me feel bad for it because it looked like it wanted to die. It was the only car I ever saw that actually LOOKED deathly ill. lol Oh, and it didn’t usually have brakes. Mostly, Karl was my BFF with benefits.

My parents loved him!! Mom adored him and would call him or make me run up the hill to get him every time a bat flew down our chimney! Mom has always been terrified of bats, cats, and snakes. Karl was in that attic with me that winter! lol I think maybe his brother Ray was too, but I can’t remember. I also think we were in there until almost spring! At that time, I think Karl was dating a girl named Dot. No matter to me; I just needed to get warm.

Karl was good at keeping me warm. He was part Eskimo. We always just kind of looked after each other even when we weren’t dating. Lol, we were weird like that. Karl was also in the emergency shelter in Ottumwa with me, and at some point, he was put in the boy’s home in Ft. Madison. Ellis! That’s the name of those homes! Um… Byron and Helen Ellis! That’s right! Okay then; let’s give it up for the old gal’s memory, yes?? Thank you, thank you. Autographs after the show!

Let’s see… oh right, my runaway disclaimer… DO NOT DO THIS BAD STUFF! OK? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Alrighty then, I’m going to start with some of the bad stuff I did, lol. It’s a different kind of world now than it was then. We were worried about getting caught chewing gum. These kids now are getting caught shooting guns.

So again, don’t do the stuff I did. OK? Booze and Drugs (Ok, here please play the Shaft Theme. The part that says ‘Shut Yo Mouf!’) Never hand a mega-stoned 13-year-old girl a GARBAGE BAG FULL of weed; (Please cue music: Oh Happy Day!) and then drop her off in a strange neighborhood no matter if she says she knows where she is.

Look, I’m not judging, it’s just that; come on dude… She doesn’t know where TF she is; that girl is LIT!!! She probably doesn’t even know her own name right now! (Cue Music: Nina Simone, Feelin’ Good)

Wait, is she swaying?!?  How is this…?  Why is she dancing? CUT!! CUT!! Somebody come clean up the lit teenager please and let’s turn the music down just a smidge, M’kay? ~ M’kay. Now; let’s try this again.

Booze and Drugs (Ok, here please play the Shaft Theme. The part that says ‘Shut Yo Mouf!’) Never hand a mega-stoned 13-year-old girl a GARBAGE BAG FULL of weed (Please cue music: Oh Happy Day!) and then drop her off in a strange neighborhood no matter if she says she knows where she is. I’m not judging, it’s just that; come on dude… She doesn’t know where TF she is; that girl is LIT!!! She probably doesn’t even know her own name right now! (Cue Music: Nina Simone, Feelin’ Good) I most certainly did not know any of that stuff and I sincerely attempted to explain that to the nice police officer who graciously stopped by. He wished to inquire as to why I might be sleeping on the hood of someone’s car in broad daylight in this nice quiet residential neighborhood. I explained to the nice officer that I got lost and then sleepy and so I just needed to rest, so if he would kindly go away… He wasn’t amused and he didn’t go away. Damn it!

He tried to take my weed, but I yanked it back from him and told him $1500. That gave him a chuckle, and he told me to watch my head as he put me into the back seat of the cruiser. Ugh! His car smelled like barf and feet, and none of that was coming from me. My left shoe was stuck to something on the floor, and when I leaned against the door to see what it was, my head touched the window and something got stuck in my hair! Deputy Dawg took me back to his office and wanted to play 20 questions. Stoned girl Shaney doesn’t do any more questions. Stoned girl Shaney is sleepy. So I told him I was starting my period and needed a tampon. That shuts a guy up every time. Especially the older well-mannered ones.

Thank you to all Moms & Dads out there who raised them to be polite and well-mannered; I SALUTE YOU!

So Huckleberry skittered out of the office, and I snagged up my LuvlySac o’ Weed and filled all of my pockets, socks, and bra with fat sticky buds (probably about three pounds) and I curled up on the floor of his office, wrapped my arms around my LuvlySac O’ Weed, and slept for around 4 or 5 hours, I think. When I woke up, my LuvlySac, monster bag of o’weed was gone, and there was an itchy gray blanket on me that smelled like feet. LOL Mostly, I noticed that every time I moved around, I smelled weed, improvement to the feet smell, but I itched so badly it wasn’t even funny. That weedalicious smell was pretty strong and that was sweet, lol. Officer Friendly took good care of me that day.

But, “Hey, I still want that bag back, dude.” lol For real. He also showed me how to pull a fingerprint off of most surfaces with a pencil and scotch tape. Cool guy! The smell though! Lol, once I got away from the cops, I went to a laundromat to go clothes shopping. I found some ragged jeans and a t-shirt that would work and headed to the restroom. As I undressed, weed started falling out everywhere. I was still half lit, so it took me a minute to catch on. lol, I just thought I was itchy because my clothes were filthy. Nope, I slept wadded up tight like a huge weed burrito! Or Weedrito! (check on that trademark, please) I had resin all over my skin. Some spots on my skin stained green. I got hay fever, so I started sneezing and my eyes started gushing. I had to tie it all up in my dirty clothes, but for the rest of that week, I smelled like fresh weed. I used to sometimes spend nights in cars at used car lots. Those lots used to work really well, but then cops started hanging out in those lots. Back in the day, you could find spare keys lying around all over the place. Just go when the lot is busy and ask to see inside the trunk, have a friend come distract the dealer, and switch keys. Easy-peasy. Then I would come back at night, use the key, sleep there for the night, and leave the key on the driver’s seat in the morning. Oversleeping has never been an issue for me while on the run. My cotton mouth is killing me. I need something…

Popsicle! BRB Bob is home from work, and I need to get into the shower, so maybe more tomorrow.

I met many new people along the way. Some were bad, and some were good, but all were at least amusing. One summer, I walked barefoot from Ft. Madison, Iowa, to Keokuk, Iowa. Looking back, I can’t remember where the hell my shoes went. If I needed a change of clothing, clotheslines were my go-to. After that? Laundromats. During the summer, finding food wasn’t so hard. I raided many, many gardens. Winter was a different story though, so being handy at shoplifting probably saved my life more than once. I always carried a buck knife. ALWAYS. I swiped this from my Dad before leaving the first time. I’m brave; not stupid. I will admit, I had to pull it more than once, but I never had to cut anyone. Just seeing it was usually enough. However, had I needed to use it, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I returned home many times, but it was never for too long. Ha!!! I remember one time I came back home and I just walked up to the house, walked in the door without knocking or anything! Then, I went upstairs, grabbed my jean jacket, and headed right back down the stairs. My Dad was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and the second he raised his voice at me, I started loudly singing, “On The Road Again” by Willie Nelson.

I then turned and went right out the backdoor and kept going. OMFG! I’ll bet my parents were floored! ‘The Gall of this girl!!!’ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Once I realized that I could take care of myself just fine, it was a done deal. There was nothing that I needed or wanted that I couldn’t provide for myself. Besides, nobody was ever going to put chains on me, rein me in, collar me, or bring me to heel. Not in this lifetime or any other. I was feeling emboldened and bitter and sad all the time. I had been searching for Helen and was getting nowhere. It was very depressing, and I didn’t know what to do next. At some point, I decided to just live my life and wander, in the hopes of running into her somewhere. I can’t remember who said this, but it stuck with me for some reason: “If you stay in one spot long enough, sooner or later, the person you are looking for will come to you.” So, that’s what I did, and after a while, my search for her slid a little bit deeper in my mind as surviving took the forefront. I never once did anything that any normal person would consider “BAD” while I was on the run.

I shoplifted, had sex, avoided sex, drank booze, and did drugs but nothing too hard. Basically, I was living the same life as 90% of the adults in the world, so how bad could that be? Well, I will tell you. According to the Judgy McJudging Familial polls, that could be super-duper-bad. The final outcome was often decided by: A: Who was judging No Whammies! B: Which kid was the offender (Why are you looking at me like that?) Yes, fine, you’re right. I was most often the offender, and the judges consisted of every adult in my bloodline. It’s a damn good thing that I no longer cared what they thought of me, or the depression it could have put me in could have left me hanging under that very same bridge I had lived under when I was 12. There was one night in particular that came to mind this morning.

CHAPTER 26: SOMEPERVYDUDE

I had just left my parents’ house and I was feeling particularly worthless and dark. I don’t remember what we fought about, so it probably wasn’t important. Most likely, it was my fault though, as I was an uber-angsty teenager and didn’t require assistance with being pissed. Lol! There used to be this pervy guy who would drive around Ottumwa looking for girls. He probably still does, haha! Not women. Girls. His name was Somepervydude (I had second thoughts about using his name but Pally, everybody in town knows who he is, ha-ha!) I had seen him driving around town ‘window-shopping’ for years. He was so blatantly obvious about it too; I mean, I was really young when I first noticed him (6th grade), and even I knew what he was doing. Anyway, he drove this older car that was either really pale beige or pale yellow. I am leaning toward beige, I think. He was as much a constant sight around town in those days as Speedy was. (I’m not going to explain Speedy. He was just this super nice guy who walked around town every day and everybody in town loved him.) On this night, as I said, I was feeling very worthless and dark, and I was walking down the street wondering what to do next when, of course, here comes Somepervydude.

He drove past me probably 3 times before finally, I thought screw it; that’s all I am ever going to be worth, so I may as well use it to get a ride. So I flagged his nasty ass down, and he gave me a ride to the edge of town, and he pulled over right next to the Chief Wapello memorial. And I need to stop for a bit. Bob is home from work today, and he wants to go to the casino. WOOT! We really can’t afford to be pissing money away like that, but he works his ass off all week long, so I always try to be onboard on the rare occasion that he wants to go do something. That’s how I love. So, I’m thinking Casino, win a cool thousand like I did last time, and maybe a nice dinner. Has anyone ever told you that you are really easy to talk to, Pally? Well, you are! I think you are good for me. When I woke up this morning, the sun was shining! That is the first time in years that I didn’t have to wait hours for the sun to come up.

I am definitely giving you the credit for that because I have had nightmares for as long as I can remember, and my sleep has always been fractured. I can’t think of the last time I woke up feeling refreshed. Usually, I wake up exhausted! So, yes. You are good for me; I’m sure of it. Thank you. I know that you can’t see me doing this, but I am giving you a huge hug. More tomorrow.

I lost my ass at the casino yesterday, but it was good to get out of the house. I know that I left you hanging on the PervyDude story, and for that, I apologize. Sometimes, when I don’t want to deal with something, it doesn’t take much for me to just walk away from it for a bit.

So, Somepervydude. Ok, a little recap. He pulled his car up next to the Chief Wapello memorial, and I got out of the car thinking that I would start walking from there, but Somepervydude had other ideas. He also got out of the car and asked me if I was going to ‘put out’ for the ride. O.O…… I was feeling more than a little bit low, so I thought to myself, “Well, if this is all I’m good for; I may as well toss this dog a bone.” He honestly should have saved himself the effort because I kicked back on the hood of his car, and he finished before I could finish reading the Chief Wapello plaque… less than thirty seconds, give or take. Took me longer to get my pants down! Afterward, I put it out of my mind, which took no time at all. I just pulled up my pants and walked away from him. I was a worthless girl; only good for making worthless men happy, and I was super self-loathing and headed to Missouri to look for Helen some more.

CHAPTER 27: GOAT ROPERS

Missouri was uneventful, but I did learn that people from Missouri are referred to as ‘goat ropers,’ although I don’t remember why. I stayed around the Missouri area for a few months before hitchhiking back to southeastern Iowa. During these years, it was mostly sleeping during the day, hitchhiking during the night. I can tell you that when you are walking alone, down a pitch-black highway, and a cow farts nearby, you will hit the ground like you are being shot at! Lmao! Scared the hell out of me the first time! I love night sounds though. Owls and coyotes out hunting, and the smells during the night are more damp and rich. It’s very clean and new. I bathed in lakes and ponds and washed my hair there as well. I have slept under bridges, in caves, abandoned apartments, porches, and hallways. I have also slept up in a tree more than once. Tree houses are always a good bet if you are time conscious.

Never leave a tree house in daylight hours, lol. I have also slept inside a doghouse, in storm shelters, abandoned barns, and buildings. I learned fast how to build my own shelter and how to boil water so it would be safe to drink. For food, I didn’t kill anything, but I couldn’t just keep stealing from stores every day, so instead, I stole fruits from trees and veggies from gardens. A lot of trial and error, and I spent more than several days sicker than a dog from eating rotten food, but I eventually figured it out. If I couldn’t access food, I simply didn’t eat. I got exceptionally good at doing without and being just fine. Many of the other teens I met on the road would let me stay at their home for a night, and almost every damned time, there would be a dad, uncle, or brother sneaking up on me in the middle of the night. Buggers… anyway, I would pretend I was asleep, and it never failed; their hand would end up down the front of my pants. So, I would wait for them to get their hand in my pants really deep; then I would clamp my legs together and roll over; trapping their hand in my pants! Once I knew the kickstand owner was perfectly stuck and couldn’t get away easily, I could go to sleep. A couple of times, they were still stuck in the morning when I woke up, and then I would act all upset and offended.

The truth was, I wasn’t offended anymore. I expected it. All the time. I found those guys to be pathetic. Sad, even. If it has a kickstand, it will try. That was my mantra. Right now, as you are all reading this, there are 40 or 50 guys out there saying, ‘Hey! I got stuck like that!’ Well then, keep your uninvited hand out of my damned pants, fool! Lmao! It saved me so much fighting and fuss. Also, it freaked the guy out like nobody’s business! I’m not trying to be mean but if your penis has that level of control over you and your actions…..you are just a big dumb puppy, Baby.

I could have gone all dark and bitter, becoming some man-hater or something, but I don’t hate men; I adore men. I just think they are mostly like big dumb puppies, and that makes them entertaining and amusing to me. Just sayin’. I have stolen many cars in an effort to get out of the weather as needed, but mostly I walked and hitchhiked. I didn’t always take the best care of the cars I stole. If I was really bored, I would take the car ramping or mudding. I have abandoned many cars in cornfields buried in mud. I would just find a patch of land that resembled a ramp and turn it into one, provided I had space for landing on the other side. MORE STUPID SHIT I HAVE DONE THROUGHOUT THIS LIFETIME I am just going to tell you some of the amazingly stupid things I have done over the years and, if given the chance, I’d likely do it all again! LMAO!!!

At the very least, maybe I can offer more insight into who I am because, if I am being honest with myself, I don’t think many people have been allowed to really know me. The reason that I am sharing these things in this way is because I just do not have the attention span to sort it all out, let alone make it all chronological! Believe me or don’t. Truly, I would have to be dead to care less one way or the other.

Ha-ha! Here we goooo!

I learned that you cannot iron 1970s satin shorts with a hot iron. My tongue has been frozen to way more than two poles in my lifetime. I learned that Lava bar soap will stick in between your teeth all day no matter what you do. I have driven multiple cars that ended up airborne and didn’t wreck them.

I once went for a ride with these Ottumwa guys I didn’t know. Lol, I was walking and they pulled over and asked if I wanted to party! What a silly question! These guys told me that one of them had ‘borrowed’ their dad’s car. I found this interesting and I asked if I could drive. Foolish boys. They had some righteous weed and I was LIT! I was blazing trails all over town until we finally ended up downtown. Although Market Street downtown isn’t terribly far from the police station, I had given it about 0.03 seconds thought before finally making the executive decision that driving this car as fast as I could through the outdoor walking mall was obviously a must. I drove that boy’s car through the outdoor walking mall downtown, back when it was foot traffic only and the lion fountain was in the middle of it.

Ok Pally, you don’t have to look at me like that. Lmao!

You would have maybe done the same? Anyway, I had police hot on my ass until I whipped into that pedestrian mall. They didn’t follow me inside. If they had, I would have been toast, but they didn’t and I skated away! At least I was smart enough to call it a night and drive home. Lmao! Still no idea who those guys were but, hey! If you’re reading this: “BEST PARTY EVER!” Sorry Officer Rempe and guys! This would have been roughly 1984, I think. Right now there are at least three retired Ottumwa police officers cussing me. Lmao! I used to informally street race nearly anyone who drove close to me and I almost always won. Once, on a two-lane, one-way street in downtown Ottumwa, Iowa, I got stuck behind two slow-moving cars that were blocking both lanes. I got tired of following and drove between them without an accident.

Although Mick, who was in the passenger seat, nearly pooped in my car that day! Lol! I got kicked out of a Bon Jovi concert for climbing the fence in front of the stage just to grab his ass. BTW, totally worth it! Then I ended up getting another ticket from some guy who had ditched his girlfriend that day, and I got right back into the concert! OMG, that guy was HAWT! I rode over 200 miles on the back of a Harley two weeks after giving birth to my first child and ended up having some weird fainting spell after eating a fair amount of mushrooms. I rode over 200 miles on the back of a Harley two weeks before giving birth to my second child. No drugs or alcohol during pregnancies I mostly paid for my first house with drug money. Floyd Stockdall was my uncle and his wife Lori was absolutely brilliant. (It’s ok. I will pause, because you really do want to Google them, so take your time and I will spark a blunt instrument!)

U-TURN by Outlaw Nation/NUBREED playing in the background

FYI: Don’t believe everything that you read online.

I partied with Roseanne Barr and Tom Arnold but knew Tom (in passing) and Scott Arnold (school) already. Mostly Scott. Hey Scott! Lol I think the last time I saw Scott, I was working at the West Second Amoco on night shift.

So, Floyd Stockdall was my Uncle by marriage but he was cool with me so I kept him as my uncle.

His wife Lori, though.

She never should have been jailed because while she and Floyd were running Ottumwa,

(Don’t you look at Pally’s pages like that! You all know damn well who was running that city during those years!) they put that entire city into an economic boon that it isn’t likely to ever see again!

People are so stupid. She shouldn’t have been jailed.

She should have been made MAYOR! That is nothing short of the facts.

One day, Pally, I’m going to tell you the real story of how the conditions were in that armpit of a town and what Floyd and Lori huge economic boom that they really brought to it.

Believe me; the nightmare stories are the only things you hear about and I honestly; never saw any of that!

As for neglected kids and kids growing up to use drugs?

I challenge you to name any city in America where people don’t do that same shit every day WITHOUT drugs!

Okay then.

Maybe I will tag a few of you down the road and we will write an honest tell all book together. Lol We can call it The Boomer’s Bible!

Until you cough up a name of said city; respectfully, don’t soil their names by letting them leak out of that ignorant hole in your face. You’re embarrassing yourself and need to hush.

I have been in multiple physical confrontations, mostly with men whom I made sure regretted ever touching me. The last man I beat down was my current husband. The tallest man was 6’6”, the biggest was 390ish lbs, and I beat that ass every time. Mostly because they never see it coming. I wasn’t in relationships with the last two.

Those were just bar fights. I never started it though. Fact. I did, however, love a good bar fight. Ha-ha! I learned early how to shoot and how to do it extremely well. That interest began with archery I learned at Camp Arrowhead. I have never and will never back down from anyone or any fight; however, I do pick and choose them more carefully than I once did. And I am not afraid to get my ass beat because I will keep coming back until I win. I’m that bitch.

My dad once taught me how to drive a man’s kneecap down to his ankle with very little effort. I can attest that it is very efficient, and so I passed this knowledge down to my daughter and later my granddaughters. Oh, and the same with collapsing their trachea. My dad rocks! Thank you, Dad! I love you!

It’s maybe, sorta, possible that I might have; well, I don’t know if I would call it kidnapping exactly… I mean, it’s such a harsh word, right? An ex at one time… maybe two times… ugh, maybe two exes… I really do think it’s all in how you view it and stuff… mhm; yeah. Ya know? I mean there’s like, angles and stuff. O.o……...

Hey did I ever tell you that my cousins used to take me door to door around Jerry Lewis Telethon time and make me act disabled so that we could collect donations and buy candy. A

Also, I once drank green water from Lake Marie in Missouri and didn’t get sick. I once drank a whole bottle of mezcal and accidentally bit the worm as I was swallowing it, and Emery had to keep me from falling out of the car door by holding my hair as he drove, and I puked for more than 40 miles with a state trooper following us for half of it.

In Indiana, I got pulled over for speeding (every damned time I’m crossing that state!) on the interstate. Buy my book and I will pay those tickets! LOLOLOLOL! There was a rest stop ahead, so instead of pulling over, I started speeding up and put on my turn signal. I pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. I quickly pulled my license out of my purse and tossed it to my husband Bob, who was looking at me like I had lost my damned mind! I gave Bobby a wink and jumped out of the car, telling the nice officer that my husband had my permission to conduct business on my behalf because I have to get to the toilet RIGHT NOW! I also called out over my shoulder that I have Grave’s Disease and then hurried to the bathroom. Lmao, the chances of that officer knowing Grave’s Disease has nothing to do with going to the toilet were slim at best. At least, that’s what I was counting on. Bob had no idea I was going to do that. As I stood in the restroom, it gave me a giggle thinking of him dealing with a cop or anyone of authority! Pally, lmao! Bob is scared to death of EVER getting into trouble of any kind, and police make him freeze up! Bwahahahahahaha! Ok, so yes, I suppose I can be a tad vindictive.

Lol, but at that time we weren’t in a great place, and if I have to have my revenge, it should at least be funny. Besides, it gave me time to check my makeup. And brush my teeth, then I curled my hair and smoked a cheddar, so it was all good. When I finished, I put away my curling iron and walked back to the car casually. I didn’t see police anywhere, but Bob was white as a ghost and looked like he might blow chunks in my car. On the upside, that cop must have taken pity on Bob because I didn’t even get a warning ticket! Ha-ha!

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Another time, when I was much younger, I found out that my then-boyfriend had been cheating on me, so rather than confront him, I took him for a drive in the country. There was no school because it was Saturday night so he knew he was gonna get some. (Yes, Pally, he went willingly because I told him that I had a snow kink. What can I say? Sex sells.) It was winter and the night before, it had snowed about two inches. Not a lot, but enough. When I felt like I was far enough outside of town, I pulled over onto a side road and told him that I thought we should talk about his sidepiece. Of course, he had no idea what I was talking about. I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I don’t remember why, but I do remember that I was too tired to be spending time dealing with this fool. So, rather than turn it into a long, drawn-out thing, I reached into the back seat, pulled out a ball bat, and got out of the car. As I walked around to the passenger side, I could see through the window, the grin softening on his face and turning into concern, then finally fear. Now he was looking worried. Like a deer caught in my headlights. I knocked the bat against his window and told him to get out. He started to argue until I cracked his car door with the bat as hard as I could, and it made the car rock. I stood outside his door and waited for him to get out. It shouldn’t be long now, I thought.

I knew that right then, that guy’s brain was stuck in overdrive, but soon, when realization hit that it’s just us in the middle of nowhere, he would get out. I could be patient if I absolutely had to, but I really was tired that night. It was dark and cold. Not the sharp kind of cold that cuts to the bone, but the kind of cold with just a slight crispness that you can feel on your skin. The wind wasn’t bad and the moon was full, and if I hadn’t been doing this, I might have really enjoyed the stars that night.

He finally got out of the car and stood there sneering at me, like someone just shit in his shoe. Childish, and I was instantly disgusted by his reaction to all this. Looking at him in that moment, he was a pathetic, snot-nosed boy who didn’t stand a chance in hell of ever truly becoming a man. I kinda wanted to throw up. Instead, I told him to strip. He looked at me with these huge eyes and started protesting, cussing me, and crying. I stayed calm. Disgusted but calm. So tired. First, I looked at him and pursed my lips in disapproval. Then I raised one eyebrow and raised that ball bat over my shoulder, taking on a stance that told him he’d best get naked before I hit his sorry ass out of the park.

Because that sorry waste of space read me loud and clear; clothing started hitting the snow at my feet a piece at a time until he had nothing left on his body but his socks and underwear. piece at a time until he had nothing left on his body but his socks and underwear. He stood there looking at me with snot running down his upper lip and I cocked an eyebrow at him indicating that he wasn’t finished. He started whining really loudly then, but he did take off his socks. He was reluctant to give up his drawers but I can be pretty convincing when I need to be and I can assure you that I needed to be.

Within seconds, he stood in front of me nekkid as the very day he was born and his clothes were in a pile at my feet. I popped the trunk lid and told him to put his clothes inside then close the lid. He did so and I walked around to the driver’s side of the car and started to get in. He stopped me, asking what he was supposed to do. I paused with one foot inside the car and rested my arm on the window frame of my door as I gazed at him. It occurred to me then, as he stood there naked and blowing snot bubbles in the cold night air, he looked like a sad little boy with a bright white shiny butt covered in pimples! Lol Omg, I remember thinking, if I ever had kids, I hoped they would be smarter than that. And have fewer pimples on their butts!

Oh well! Different strokes and all that! I told him that he could do whatever he wanted to do now; I was finished with him. I tossed a tiny pair of toddler girl mittens at him, then I got into the car and drove off. I was perfectly okay with leaving that sad, naked, pimply boy crying on the side of a snowy gravel road, holding a pair of little girl mittens over his crotch, to find his own way home. Did I mention that home was the local parish house? Yes Pally, his daddy was the preacher. If he walked the whole way back, he should have been getting there sometime around the end of the church breakfast. No matter. I left that state and have never been back there. See? Angles and stuff. Lol. Anyway, I will probably add many more stupid things throughout my story because, well, all I’ve got is stupid. I’ve got a stupid story, some mind-blowing, um, aromatherapy, and the sweetest little Maltese on this icky planet! Yes, I do!

CHAPTER 28: THE GIRLS HOME~KEOKUK

At some point during my many, many runaway escapades, the court stepped in and decided that they couldn’t allow me to just continue living on my own, all willy-nilly like. I, however, took offense to their notion as I found it to be completely ridiculous. I wasn’t suffering or causing any suffering. They should have left me alone. But they didn’t. Girls home. I was there for a year or two. Made really great friends there. Fell in love for the first time there. That boy was dynamite! wink~wink! Typical teenage years minus the parents. I do so hate being caged though, so it wasn’t long before I refused to stay there as well and I took off. (Please Note: Due to the nature of the home that I lived in while in Keokuk, Iowa, I do not feel at liberty to disclose information about my time at the State Girls Home).

CHAPTER 29: I DESERVE ANY HELL I GET

High school age. I am supposed to choose where I am going to be living because I am much closer to 18 now. By this time, my Grandpa (Birth Mom’s Dad) was an old man taking care of my Grandma because she’d had a stroke. I was in family court proceedings for placement, and my Grandpa was there to take me home with him. HOME!!! I was so excited because that meant learning who the rest of my family was and more about who my Mom was. I was so stupid! I hate myself for this and will FOREVER.

My Dad showed up and talked me into coming back with him. Which was great because I missed my sisters and my parents. I should have gone with Grandpa and helped him when he needed it most. I was only thinking about myself. I am a terrible person for this. I ruined my one and only chance to be with my Mom’s family. To be with my precious Grandma. To once again be with my Grandparents was all I ever wanted. I blew it.

I HURT THE VERY PEOPLE THAT I SPENT MY LIFE LONGING FOR!

For that inhumane crime, I deserve whatever life throws at me. I will pay that price throughout multiple lifetimes if necessary, but I don’t think that stain will ever go away. Even now, I look back and I seriously cannot tell you WTF I was thinking or why I would make such a choice. This atrocity. This one is mine. This one is part of me forever.

There is NO fixing this one.

CHAPTER 30: ARMY & Hosebag

The Army. So, as I was trying to figure out what to do with my future, I was spending more time at home with Mom and Dad. It was obvious to me that I would never find Helen if I kept going at it the way I had been.

My best friend for more than 30 years was Hosebag. We met the day after I had signed up to join the Army, at an arcade owned by my Gramps. At that time, she was going to the local college for computer programming and was getting pretty good grades.

She also worked at K-Mart.

We hung out at a bar called The Waterfront. Hell, we practically lived there.

For a short time, I dated a bartender who worked there and Hosebag dated his brother. She and I were inseparable. Meaning that we had been friends for so long that we were parts of each other’s families.

We were tight like that. Always.

I never believed that she would ever be exactly like everyone else I had ever known. But she did.

After I divorced my first husband Skidmark, she tried to bed him and after Emery, she just dropped in to trash talk me like I was the most lowly creature in existence.

Finding this out really blew my mind because I never told her husband Frank that while he was in prison; she had been riding Tim, the neighbor, like she was going for first prize at the rodeo.

I also didn’t tell Frank about that old guy she was bagging. Yeah, the one Tim got his weed from!

I didn’t tell Frank about any of that!

OOPS! Guess cat’s out of the bag now!

Emery used to call her “Porcupine” Lol. He always said “If she had as many poking out of her, as she’s had poked in her, she’d look like a damned porcupine!” Lmao!!!!~~Gawd I loved that man.

When Hosebag and I, went out to the Waterfront (our club of choice), I was extremely forward towards men. If I saw something I wanted, I would just walk up and ask them if they were with anyone. If they said no, I would say, “Well, you are now. Do you want to get out of here?”

That was me. I don’t have the patience for the dating game. I wanted what I wanted, when I wanted it, and I was never afraid to just reach out and take it.

Maybe that’s where the jealousy stems from. I feel conceited even typing that.

Jealousy. My husband insists that’s what my problem is. People are jealous of me. Family, friends, coworkers, spouses, offspring etc.

I find this notion to be utterly ridiculous because I don’t look amazing and I never have, I’m not a genius, and I have no money; there’s nothing special about me other than my unique approach to being a complete pain in the ass and the ability of being too stupid to be afraid of getting my ass kicked.

Even Bob has difficulty explaining this to me. Something about me being free to do whatever I want or something, I dunno it all sounds like a steaming pile of BS to me.

The Waterfront is where we moved some drugs. Either buying or selling this was the place to go back then. There was another bar at the end of the Waterfront’s alley, called The Union Station and there wasn’t much action there but that would all change within the next 10 years; thank gawd! On the up side; The Union Station served up a mean biscuits and gravy platter in the mornings.

Hosebag and I used to hang out at the home of a friend named Cathy. Cathy was pretty cool; she lived with her parents Earl and Darlene, and her brother Craig. They also became like family to me. If Hosebag and I were too drunk to drive home, we could always go there, and Darlene would pull out the hide-a-bed for us. I spent many a night sleeping with Hosebag’s feet in my face. Lmao!

It was during one of these visits to Cathy’s house that I saw a blonde guy that I decided I needed to test drive.

I am so stupid sometimes; I swear I am! This guy’s name was Skidmark, and I was going to be stupid enough to marry him before too long, but I had my reasons and there was no other way around it.

Ok, this is definitely gonna take a couple bowls of fruit to get through, so that means I need to get going. BRB.

Playing in the distance is HITMAN feat. YaBoi Dirty “Hide The Weed” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJ-d4jLuB7Q

These guys are PHENOMENAL!

I am back and tattered like the first flag! YES, I am!

Ya know, it occurs to me that as a teen, I thought I was mean as hell. I was for real angry, but I thought I was a hateful, mean, bad-ass. In hindsight, I wasn’t mean or hateful. I was angry and scared.

From now on, I must apologize to you, my dear Pally, but my memories may jump around a bit. I’m trying my best, I promise, but this isn’t really a science or anything. I am scratching at walls that were never meant to come down.

I am opening boxes that I was hoping would never be opened. So, less a science; more, a process. It’s hard. It’s sad. It hurts.

Marriage. Damn you to hell, Walt Disney! Because of Disney, my dumb ass completely believed in handsome, brave knights on great white steeds, and one would be coming to rescue me.

If I could sue Disney for creating my delusional beliefs, I would. Lol I believed in good always triumphing over evil. I believed in true love. I believed in ‘Happily Ever After,’ and I wanted that more than anything else in the whole wide world!

I was a complete imbecile. However, I was a complete imbecile who believed in all of these things.

Yes. Sadly, even as a teenager, I still, on some level, believed that someday I could live happily ever after. Mhm, as I said before; complete imbecile.

CHAPTER 31: SKIDMARK

So, there stood Skidmark. He didn’t look like the love of my life, but that isn’t exactly what I was shopping for on that particular day. What he looked like, to me, was a pogo stick and I was feeling hoppy, so he fit the bill. I was just looking for someone I could call on for a quick hookup when needed, before I left the following month to go take my oath for the Army. Yep, I was looking for on-demand satisfaction. That was how I had always had relationships. Casual ASF.

I was super excited about joining the Army and seeing the world. So, I got my booty call and it was, meh. Nothing that I would brag about, to be sure. Regardless, Skidmark wanted to see me again, so we had a few hookups, before I left for the Des Moines Airport Hotel for my oath and stuff. He asked to see me again after I got back, but I didn’t think that was a good idea since I was going to be shipping out soon. We then parted ways and it was all good.

The people who made the trip to Des Moines with me were all nice and funny, and we had a great time on the trip. That night after we arrived, we got settled into our rooms and some of the guys decided to hold a kegger and within an hour there were several rooms partying. It was a blast!

There was this one guy who I thought was cute and the other guys were teasing him hard. They were calling him a virgin and his face turned so red! Lol, He was adorable! He had dark, kind of curly hair. He was tall and lean. I wanted him. So, I took him.

It’s not as if doing this is ever hard; besides, nobody ever up and handed me anything I ever wanted, so I take it or I work for it. In this case, there was no work involved. I just stood up and held my hand out to him. He stood up and took it, and we went to my room.

Those other guys were wishing they were him right then. I can testify; that young man was no virgin, and if he was, I have yet to find a level of natural skill to match his in any virgin. I don’t even remember his name, but he was just, wow. Buddy rocked my world!! As we were finishing up, some soldiers went around pounding on doors, trying to end the party and get everyone back into their rooms.

Now, I don’t know if this guy was engaged back home or what, but he seriously did not want to get caught in my room and he was starting to freak out just a little bit. So, I popped the window open, knocked the screen out, and shoved him out the window. I got in bed just in time to answer my door.

GI Joe said that I set a fine example for my group by not being involved in the unsanctioned party. He then led me into the hallway and announced to everyone that I was what leadership material looked like. O_O ok. I was glad to see that What’s-His-Face made it back to his room without getting caught. T

hat was way fun. Good times were had all around! The next day, after we went through everything we needed to for the Army, we all loaded back up into the van and went back home. I didn’t graduate high school, but I did get my GED.

CHAPTER 32: POST BOOTY CALL

Over the next decade I would go on to became certified as a Phlebotomist, CNA, CMA, MA, Alzheimer’s Critical Care Specialist, and when I worked at the doctor’s office, I learned about X-rays and how to develop the film take EKG’s and all sorts of procedures.

The Army required a diploma, so I had to get my books and start studying. I returned home with that intention. The very next day, I ran into Skidmark. I figured a hookup wouldn’t hurt, so I did. The following month, I found out I was pregnant. I had only been with two guys, so it’s one of them.

Unfortunately for Skidmark; what’s-his-name was unavailable to assist me. Besides, I wasn’t crazy about having a permanent adult human attached to me. So, I didn’t see the point of trying to locate him. He gave me a good time, and I did the same for him.

Seriously, I don’t think I ever even knew his name, but he was a real sport! I had already been sworn in to serve in the Army. I had signed all the paperwork so I figured I had better give that Army dude a call.

I was fairly confident that in a few short months my fat ass wasn’t going to be sliding smoothly beneath any barbed wire!

According to the Captain Clueless, on the other end of the phone line, that made me government property.

This guy told me that they could get an order making me sign guardianship of my unborn baby to a family member and force me to serve my enlistment. The Army owned me.

Well, shit. That can’t be good.

There’s got to be something…...something I could do…

Well, I’m not signing my son to anyone, let alone a family member!

Oh Hell No! Lol, I’d never get him back! I informed Lego Army guy that I wished the United States Army the very best luck finding us, and I hung up.

Later that night, Lego soldier guy (AKA: I couldn’t get Sarge to ok finances to make this preggo’s life miserable) called me back to inform me that they could release me from my obligations if I were also getting married. Full family unit, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t say anything as I slowly lowered the phone onto its cradle.

Damn it! I wasn’t sure that I could raise one kid, and now I have to get married and raise two? Grrrrrrr. ((((Huh? No! I won’t explain what kind of phone I’m talking about! Lolol Go ask your grandparents!))))

My mind was already racing.

Who? How? Can I make this work? Omg, what if I can’t? How far is Canada?

Nononono! Wait… breathe and think! I can do this, damn it! How… how… how… I DON’T KNOW! I just need a minute! I’ve gone and done it now… what to do; what to do… Hhhhhhmmmmm

Wait… ok… ok, I can do this… ok; LOL! yes! I’ve got this!

Suck my butt, Shiny Metallic Army guy!

(I need to shut up because that Army guy was pretty awesome! He didn’t have to call me back with a way out, but he did.)

So you are probably wondering; how am I going to wiggle out of this one, right? Well, Skidmark was all about babies and being a daddy again, and he had been hounding me to marry him…….yeah I am good like that. Or rather I was back in the day lol. So I figured, why not?

It’s a win-win! Isn’t it?

Alrighty then! I’m doing this! If he asks again, I tell him the truth about the baby. So I did. He decides, “Of course, it’s my baby! You were with me last before finding out.”

_ mhm, yup…

A girl has to love that dude logic, right? Uh-huh.

CHAPTER 33: MARRIED WOMAN

Cue the wedding march, cue the cake, dancing, more dancing and, cue crying baby, keep baby on mark please aaaaaand ……..we are out, people! Good work everyone! Go home! If only life were that easy. Life is never that easy. For Skidmark and I, there was no honeymoon period. I didn’t say honeymoon; although we didn’t do that either. I said HONEYMOON PERIOD. T

o begin, we were married in September 13th. It was also; Friday the 13th. Pally, wouldn’t you think that the date alone would have clued me in? Yes my friend, hindsight sucks!

I was seventeen or so. I decided to go with the Justice of the Peace because overall, I am rather practical. Dad was there. :) Our reception was held at Skidmark’s Dad’s house with both of our families attending. We could have been holding our reception at the landfill for all I cared! Lol!

It made me so proud that my parents came, and I loved the way my parents and his parents got along. I was over the moon! My parents looked at me with such pride, and I will never forget that look on their faces. I hold it close to my heart even still.

I would stand still and take every beating anyone ever gave me, again and again, just to see them look at me like that again.

It’s not going to happen, and I attempt to console myself with the realization that some people go their whole lives without anyone ever looking at them like that. Then, I blow my nose, dry my eyes, slap on my big girl panties and I count myself lucky.

My Dad made sure he was with me each time I’ve ever said my vows, except for that last time because I was in New York.

At each of the two vows that my Dad attended, he would gift me with the best gift I’ve ever been given.

But on those wedding days; my Dad sat next to me, and he leaned in really closely so that only I could hear him, and he would whisper to me a precious, intricate, intimate trait that I shared with my birth mother.

Those are mine. I won’t be sharing those. Thanks Dad, I love you!

So, now my freedom is forever gone, I haven’t found Helen, I am married to the Evel Knievel of convenience.

(Google if you must Pally, this one is way back lol)

After my son was born, we were still living at my parents house.

One night, I was upstairs putting the baby to sleep, in the same cradle that my Dad bought when I was born, and Skidmark was drunk and loud, joking around with Felicia as they were coming up the stairs.

I had just gotten the baby to sleep, and everyone in the house was heading to bed for the night, except for my Dad. He would be coming upstairs in probably an hour after Mom was in their room like he usually did.

Skidmark and Felicia were being loud enough to wake the baby, and I poked my head out and did the loud whisper thing, shushing them and telling them the baby was asleep.

Skidmark glared up at me, all drunk and stupid looking. (When he got drunk, his eyes would get swimmy in odd directions.)

Felicia told me goodnight and went to her room. We went into my old bedroom and left the door open.

Skidmark started pacing the room like he was mad as hell. I had no idea what he had to be mad about, so I finished checking on the baby and was turning around to ask him what was wrong.

His fist came out of nowhere! He hit me so hard that he threw me into the cradle on top of the baby.

He started yelling at me, saying I was trying to shame him in front of my family by shushing him on the stairs.

In my head, I was like, huh? WTF is he on about?

As I gathered up my son, making sure that he was okay, I thought I heard my Dad coming up the stairs, and relief washed over me.

Skidmark didn’t hear my Dad coming up the stairs though because he was busy screaming in my face that I was a worthless controlling bitch because I shushed him.

While he was calling me names, like a big, bad, strong, kickstand owning MF; I was moving him closer to the door.

By the time I got Skidmark there, my Dad had reached the top of the stairs. I was so glad to see that familiar face in the doorway!

Skidmark finally saw my Dad in the doorway and slurred loudly, “You just stay out of this, we are married now!” I was thinking, ‘OMG, Skidmark has no idea the level of hell my Dad is about to unleash on him! Abusing his daughter and newborn grandson!’

As I readied myself to back my Dad’s move, he poked his head in the doorway, looked past us at the baby who was now on my bed.

While Skidmark was spewing his valiant words, Dad could see the cradle knocked from it’s stand and hear the baby screaming.

My Father said to my abusive husband: Readers, “I SWEAR ON MY VERY SOUL AND THE SOUL OF MY DEAD MOTHER” this is true.

He said, “What you guys do between you is your business, but nobody calls a woman a bitch in my house.” Then my dad turned away, went into his bedroom, and closed the door!

CHAPTER 34: THAT SHIT AINT NORMAL!

Believe it or not, Skidmark and I both just stood there in shock, staring at my parents’ bedroom door.

Well, I sure as hell didn’t raise myself to let grass grow beneath my feet! If the opportunity presents itself, don’t waste it! And I didn’t. While the steaming pile of crap I married was still staring at my parents’ bedroom door; I took that opportunity to slam his head against the nearest wall breaking the light sconce.

Look Pally, I never got anywhere by letting grass grow beneath my feet. K.O.! Lol, okay, K.O. after a few slams. I think I had to pay for that sconce too! Lolololol!

(Mockingly) “I don’t know why Shaney is so messed up! Ha-ha-ha!” Pfffft! Whatever! Just keep on telling yourselves that!

I also tried asking for help once when I couldn’t take the beatings anymore.

I thought she was a mutual friend to both Skidmark and me because her boyfriends sister was BFFs with Mom. Turns out that didn’t hold any clout with her at all.

That, boys and girls, was the year I learned that when you grow up, the word “friend” changes from “BFFs! Yay us!!!” to “I will call you friend if I can get something out of you! Yay me!!!”

Cowards suck. This Ho was cowardly.

She looked at me like I was trash, either because I was being beaten or because I asked a so called friend for help. I was so lost. How could she be like that? I didn’t understand at all.

She, many years later, apologized to me, and I believe she meant it. However, apologies that long after the fact are for you, not anyone else, okay?

If it has taken you that long to apologize to someone, you’re only doing it to ease your conscience.

It has nothing to do with me. Apologizing to me after didn’t save me from any beatings; or my newborn from a broken collar bone; so there’s that.

Anyway, thank you, and I am glad life worked out for you. That’s a lie. I hope you got hit by a big ass bus. That’s the truth.

He beat me bloody and tried to run over me and my baby with his car, but hey, we are fine! And I did that shit. ALL BY MYSELF.

If this were back then, you would have heard me call you every level of skank known to every genre of music ever! It’s a good thing that you didn’t hear me back then, right?

Have a great life, hun! Mhm! I have to be damned desperate to ever ask for help from anyone ever again.

So, I handled it myself. By myself. I stayed. My son was born with his collarbone broken in two places.

When the Dr. told me about these breaks, I played dumb and asked him what would cause such a thing to happen. The Dr said that this can be explained by my pelvis being too narrow for the baby’s body to pass through or from trauma during pregnancy.

My hips were fine, as demonstrated by my daughter being born with no breaks, but that is what I went with to family and friends as the cause of the breaks.

Now, I have this tiny little life to protect because he counts on me for everything.

I was stupidly hoping that Skidmark would change after the baby was born. At first, he seemed so happy and proud!

Then it was more like he didn’t care because he was busy working on something else. By now, you know me well enough to know that I need to steel myself for what is coming next, so I will just go do that now. BRB.

Alrighty, I am good to go! Let the games begin!

Small recap. I am an 18-year-old, newlywed, mother of a stunning baby boy whom I am madly in love with! My husband and I are living in my parents’ house on Ottumwa Street because my husband’s house is infested with cockroaches, and I refused to take my baby there until they were gone. My sister Felicia was going over to the house with him to help clean it up and get it ready to be treated.

Skidmark and Felicia seemed to hit it off right away and would often go upstairs and play chess. My son was born in February, and by spring, the house was ready for us to move into. Things were good for a very short time; maybe two weeks before the beatings started again.

Later that fall, Felicia, then 13 years old, and I took on summer jobs detasseling corn on the same crew. At 13, she shouldn’t have been able to work in the fields, so either Mom or Dad signed off on it, or I helped her forge her birth certificate like the librarian taught me way back when I first started working. I don’t remember which it was because it didn’t matter.

All I know is that, in that field, we were supposed to be to allow what needed to happen to happen. I am still feeling like that dragged toddler, lol. Being pregnant had left me out of shape, and halfway through the first day, I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe the heat and it being so soon after having a baby? I don’t know, but I was finished for that day. Before too long, my sister Felicia joined me on the bus. I remember that it was crazy hot that day.

The flies were thick and looking for water in the mud left behind from our boots. They were biting like mad too, and I remember telling Felicia that rain might be coming because the flies were biting so badly. It was nice spending time with her. We weren’t tight like Karen and I were. We didn’t share the parental connection like Dora and I did.

Also, she was in the hospital for a very long time as a baby, so we missed that bonding time. I always thought she was precious, though. Her voice was soft and melodious, and she had these tiny features! Her tiny lips shaped just like a heart, and those little curls and HUGE blue eyes; don’t get me started!

My stepmom won a ‘Most Beautiful Baby Contest’ when she was a toddler, and she was probably the prettiest baby that I had ever seen until my little sister. Felicia has always had this soft, sweet, adorable quality about her. Unless she wanted to get you in trouble. If that happened to you? Run. Just run. Lolol!

Right now, I can picture a young Felicia reading this, eyes all big trying to look innocent, and then caving into a fit of giggles! This girl; you think you know her, but you don’t, lmao!! One time, all four of us were sent upstairs to clean our rooms.

A friend of Felicia and Karen’s, a little girl named Mick, who lived at the end of the alley, had been visiting and playing upstairs. (She will reappear again later and will become like a daughter to me.)

They had been jumping on the beds and made a mess while having fun. So the four of us are upstairs cleaning, supposedly, and I was complaining about the little ones making all of the mess. I told Felicia that I wasn’t going to clean up after them because they made the mess, so they should clean it. Felicia got so mad at me! She was so adorable when she got mad!

Then, that unspeakably beautiful child walked up to me slowly. She looked up at me with those beautiful, cornflower blue, poppet eyes. I thought she was going to play the cuteness card, and I remember looking at my little sister’s precious chubby face and those thick long lashes, realizing that my resolve was melting away quickly. I was going to cave in and probably clean all of it! Lmao! I was in for a rude awakening because my little cherub was no angel! Ha-ha! FELICIA HIT HERSELF IN THE FACE WITH A SHOE!!!

I was shocked and speechless, but Felicia wasn’t. I watched in amazement and then with profound respect, as she screwed that beautiful face up into a tiny little wad of adorable, then she opened those perfectly heart-shaped lips and screamed as loudly as any cherub could: “MOM!!! Shaney hit me with a shoe!”

My jaw hitthefuckingfloor! I am not even joking. At that point, I was unbelievably torn! I knew I should be pissed beyond belief but I just couldn’t be! Felicia, in that bright, shining moment was my hero!

That was absofuckinglutely BRILLIANT! Right? I mean like, holy mother of handle her shit! I love this girl! So when this sister of mine says she needs to talk to me, in a filthy bus being bombarded by flies; I’m all ears.

At some point during the day; as we were lying about on the hot stinky bus with flies buzzing all around us;  Felicia asked if she could talk to me about something important. Of course, I said she could. Aaaaand break time!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FELICIA SPILLS THE TEA

She began talking in her sweet, soft voice. I might have spoken. I wouldn’t know. I have no idea about anything that was said between us. That is the truth. I only have the boiled-down facts so either I am refusing to pull them out or I burned them already. Yes. That’s a thing. Having said that, the boiled-down facts are as follows. My 26, maybe 28-year-old husband of, somewhere around 7 months and new father to our Son; molested my 12-year-old sister Felicia. So there’s that.

At this point I have to wonder; who is in charge of setting up my life events? I really ant to know because that MF is so fired! It’s as if, I went out one night and purposefully brought home a pedophile! I don’t think I could have messed this up any worse had I tried. Man, I was just trying to stay out of the Army and raise my Son! That explains why he was so keen on being a dad again…

Do you ever feel like the impatient mom dragging that toddler through the grocery store sometimes pushes that kid in front of moving carts? On purpose? Because I sure as hell do! What are the odds? No, man; I really want to know. What are the freaking odds on this? He had a good job, no criminal record to speak of (remember, I knew cops), he loved being his daughter’s dad, he had a nice family (I thought they were nice anyway.

I would later learn that slap-happy MFs come in bushels). I could have done so much worse, right? Noooooo! Not right. Hmm-mmm smh. Not for me! Fine. Ok. DAMNIT!!! I HATE YOU WALT DISNEY. LOVE, SHANEY. Sonovabitch!!! CRITICAL RECAP: Now, I am 18. I am a stereotype, which pisses me off! I am facing being a single mom when I’m not even sure how to be one at all! facepalm And I am an abuse statistic! FREAKING HORMONES! Ok; breathe… slowly… in and out, that’s right, just breathe…

That night, my parents came for me and the baby. TY Jeebus! They took me home and this time; it actually felt like home. A safe haven. While I was pregnant and living at home, Mom and I became very close.

She was my best friend in every way. She was supportive through the pregnancy and helped guide me through my son’s infancy all the way until this horrible day.

This day put my mom in the worst possible position, and I saw this from the start of my talk with Felicia. I was going to lose my best friend now. That hurt me worse than my husband cheating! I knew it was necessary before it ever happened, so I just started pulling back a little bit at a time. Ok, that’s a flat-out lie.

I bailed, but I knew it was the right thing to do. The position Mom was in is so clear to me. Her daughter was abused by my husband.

I never felt like Mom was mad at me or anything, and I knew she didn’t blame me, but I also knew she would have to be there for Felicia. I also knew that was where she was supposed to be. It’s also where I wanted her to be because Felicia was still just a little girl.

So, by my own hand, I was on my own again to try to find my way through this without any guidance. This was nothing new, and this would be the base of my relationship with my family from this point, on. I was told not to call the police or press charges, and it was never to be brought up ever again.

Of course. Just take it and shut up. Take it and shut up. JUST TAKE IT AND SHUT THE HELL UP. So, once again I’m flying by the seat of my pants. But that’s just how it was back then.

If I had a problem, or I had feelings, my job was to stfu and deal with it away from the family. I’m not lying! Ha-ha!

Seriously, ask any one of them! I will ask them here and now! Has it, or has it not, always been my responsibility to never bring my needs, hurts, feelings or anything negative from my world, into yours?

See? I told you! If you think this shit aint normal; wait until my next two marriages!

It just keeps getting better each time! Back to the Skidmark I married.

I let him attempt to win me back mostly because, I do enjoy gifts. What girl doesn’t? Right? In the course of this, Skidmark McClueless painted a gigantic mural of me on his living room wall. Because that should fix everything, right?

He was an idiot who was lucky that I didn’t drop my Zippo.

There was a morning that Skidmark came home, all messed up on something and before passing out, he’d nearly beat the brakes off of me because I was sleeping in that huge bed and I guess he wanted the whole thing or something.

So after he passed out, I burritoed (sure that’s a word!) him in my antique wedding ring quilt and I soaked that shit in cologne and perfume. As I stood there flipping my Zippo lighter, I remember thinking that if I dropped it, that would be ironic as hell since he also suffered severe oil burns while with his Daughter’s Mom.

I guess I know now, why she left him. So there I stood, flicking my lighter and debating, weighing, imagining. Prison meant I wouldn’t be with my Son. That is the only thing that saved Skidmark’s life.

For Real. He was also lucky that I chose to not use the ball bat I held in my other hand. Because I could beat the life out of him and make it look like a break-in.

In the end; I did nothing except unroll him and change the blankets. He was used to sleeping through me doing the laundry.

Instead, after I left him, I made sure he got his Harley repossessed and I told them where he had it hidden. It was hidden at his brother’s house. Sorry, Barry. STFU Gori. Ya skag.

It was a brand-spanking-new, candy-apple red, Harley Sportster. Did I mention that the factory where he worked had just shut down? Bummer. I guess when it rains, it does pour! He was an amazing bass player and a pretty good artist. He was a shitty human being. Because of that fact alone, I couldn’t just walk away.

After leaving him, I knew that I was going to be using my ‘patent pending Shaney method’ to  let him try to win me back. I have had to develop my own ways of dealing with all sorts.

I heard someone talking about me once when they didn’t know I was there. This guy said this to his buddy, “She’s hot and cool as hell and quick to forgive, but she never forgets. Trust me man, she doesn’t try to get even, she’s not happy unless she’s ahead. I’d tread lightly if I were you.” He was right because, I let Skidmark keep buying me little trinkets and gifts, and I waited patiently because, I knew even then that nobody ever changes stripes that big. Never.

Finally, one night, Skidmark was driving me home from dinner at his house. It was my birthday and this birthday girl had plans! Yes, she did! I already knew what I wanted for my B-Day and had been working on those plans. They had been in motion for days already.

So, Skidmark maybe, possibly had too much to drink. Well, I did bring that huge bottle of Mezcal, so that tracks. lol As we were driving down Wapello St, he started an argument with me then backhanded me, before reaching across my lap and throwing the car door open. He then pushed me out of the moving car into the street.

It was no big deal really, because he wasn’t hardly moving. I think the speed limit there is like, 25 or 30, so not fast. I managed to roll toward the curb and stuff my hand into my coat pocket.

My fingers curled around the cold steel and plastic as I stood and turned to face him. He threw the car into park in the middle of the street and came around the back end at me with his fists raised.

As I was turning toward him, I pulled my hand from my pocket and dropped my arm to my side and back as I clicked the small button on my cheesy switchblade.

When he reached me, I pushed past him, turning around, and swung that knife at him as hard as I could, stabbing him in the back and within a half inch from his heart, or so I’ve been told.

Then, panting, I stepped up on the curb and looked back to make sure that he wasn’t still coming after me. He wasn’t, so I closed my switchblade put it back into my pocket and looked up the street.

I thought I saw my mom looking out the window at us, lol. Then I began to straighten my clothing and smooth my hair before looking down at him.

He was all bunched over in the street, trying to reach around to his own back.

It was a little bit funny to watch, but then he started screaming at me super loudly. He could be so rude. And predictable.

My mom told me later that she was able to hear the commotion since we were only three houses from home.

Steve was screaming at me, “Are you fucking crazy? What did you do? What? Did you just stab me you crazy bitch? Did you?” “I’m gonna lock you up, you psycho whore! Blah-blah bitch, blah-blah cunt blahblahblah…” on and on he goes. Wah-wah, boo-hoo, the mean wife fought back! Poor me. Somebody feel sorry for me. I got beat up by a girl! Stfu, Wendy Whiner.

For real, guys are the biggest whiners after a girl beats them up. You big babies! Go buy that girl a drink because it sounds to me like you need someone to cover your ass when you let your mouth overload it!!! Lmao!

I felt like I had vindicated my little sister at least a little bit. After that, I walked home, took a shower, got dressed to go out, got picked up by Hosebag and her man.

They brought me a man to hang out with as well. “Hey Fred!” And off we went to go bar hopping because it was my birthday!

We headed across town to a bar that I didn’t normally go to, but that night I had the pleasure of being flirted with by a very pretty lesbian named Pineapple!

I am straight, but I have slithered this body across all the roads, so I knew where Pineapple was coming from. At the end of the day though, I slither straight. Regardless, she was HAWT.

Anyway, the next morning, I found my dad sitting in the living room with the radio on. You know when people say, “It’s all about timing?” Yep! It is.

As soon as I sat my hungover self down in the chair, the morning news came on.

(Cue ominous music, please)

According to the news report, Steve had been in the alley behind a bar called The Waterfront, going pee, when three (count them! 3!!!) large Caucasian men jumped him, and he was stabbed.

(Giggles. Omg, I was so scared I was going to start laughing at the news! I was 5’7″ in sneakers and had just had a baby, so I weighed 140 pounds tops.) As soon as Skidmark’s name was mentioned, my dad’s head snapped around to me.

He didn’t say a word through the whole broadcast, and I was proud of him for that because I could see that he sort of wanted to lose his shit on me! Just a little bit.

Finally, Dad turns the radio down and asks me, “Do you know anything about that?”

Dead calm. My dad was rock steady and dead calm.

My mind was racing! My dad was NOT a calm person! Wtf did this mean? I had never seen this before! So, I went with my go-to.

(Let’s drop some really great superhero music right in here!)

The truth!

(Some triumphant sounds here would be nice,)

Maybe I told him the whole truth and steadied myself for the payment.

I may not have always agreed with my dad, and we have fought like cats and dogs, but I love and respect that man more than he could ever possibly understand, and it’s the same for Mom, though she will never believe me.

Later, maybe I will try to explain how I can love and respect them like I do, but for now, my dad might be considering the removal of my head from my body, so I need to refocus.

I was steadied for the onslaught, right. I looked at my dad unflinchingly and waited to hear him out.

All he said was, “Shaney, what the hell were you thinking?”

On my very soul! You could have knocked me over with a feather right then! No yelling, or putting me down, or blaming anyone—just the most normal question any dad could ask!

Now, I didn’t know who this guy was in front of me, or what he did with my dad, but okay; I’ll bite.

I looked deeply into those bottomless blue eyes and said, “Dad, you can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it.” “Well, yeah I have!” he said, “But I’m not stupid enough to do it!” Okay, yes, he made sense, but the deed was done.

There was no unringing that bell. So I just leveled my gaze at him and smiled my best ‘oops!’ smile and said, “Well Dad, that’s the difference between us. You’re a thinker and I’m a doer. That doesn’t make either of us wrong.”

I remember how my dad just sat there for a minute, looking down at his hands. He looked really deep in thought, so I sat there quietly and waited.

Finally, he took a slow deep breath and let it out just as slowly, and then he looked up at me as if he had forgotten that I was still there and said, “Well kiddo, I’ve got to shower and get some sleep.” Then my dad stood up, kissed me on my head, said he was headed to bed, and then he went upstairs.

Dad looked really tired that morning. I remember thinking to myself that I needed to try to keep my own BS off of him if I could.

After my marriage to Skidmark, I wasn’t very optimistic about finding a suitable partner because now, I was a package deal.

I had a real problem with the idea of any man teaching my son to be like the average, run-of-the-mill kickstand owner. No. My son was going to be the exception to the rule.

I promised myself that I would always be open-minded and honest with him.

He would be able to talk to me about anything, and I would never belittle his feelings.

I would make damn sure that he knew he was wonderful, smart, funny, and everything positive that I could think of. I would teach him that the women who would enter his life were just as important as the men.

Now, I need to figure out if I am done with Skidmark.

I really do think I am finished with his part of this story. Okay, for now; I’m so over talking about that waste of oxygen, Pally. Just sayin’…

MORE RANDOM STUPID STUFF Sometime around 1985/1986,

My sister Dora was needing a place to stay and I said she could stay with me. At some point, she pissed me off way beyond belief and I chucked her out of a van doing about 80 mph.

It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Much. Ok, maybe it was as bad as it sounds, but to be fair, I just wanted to haul her to the sheriffs office for stealing from me. She hit me in the face with a tire iron and well, damn it, my nose WAS the only perfect part on me!

So, I hit her with a hatchet and she half jumped , and got half booted out of the van.

It was all very civilized, really. On the; “You Know Better Than To Piss Shaney Off O Meter”, it barely tipped the scales.

My dad came to my house, hunting for me, when he found out but I heard him and rolled off the side of my waterbed and slithered underneath the headboard and went to sleep.

That way, if dad came in, he’d never see me. I had Hosebag do the same on the other side because nobody checks under a waterbed. That would be crazy talk! Hahaha!

So Hosebag and I slept head to head under the headboard of my huge waterbed. Don’t look at me like that Pally; I’ve apologized to Dora and she accepted. What can I say? I like my stuff. Moving on.

When I was very young, maybe 4 years old, I remember telling my stepmom that when I grew up, I was going to marry my dad! I suppose I was trying to mark my territory or something, lol. Imagine my dismay to learn that a girl can’t marry her dad! Omg! Speaking of my dad!

One time he had gone night fishing down at the Hydro Dam. He brought home this huge freaking spoonbill and put it in our BATHTUB!!! We had to pee and stuff in the same room as that fish!! That first day, that thing was flopping around and carrying on! That was crazy! Lolol!

Another time my dad was being, well, like my dad, was one summer when we all were staying at Lake Marie. Dad and my Grandpa Sonny had been drinking a little, and I think we had gotten there later than usual or maybe there was a storm or something because on this night, we were all camped out on the living room floor.

I don’t think I had been asleep for very long before I could hear my dad calling my name. I sat up in my blankets and looked around. Everything was quiet, and I could see everyone around me. They all looked like they were asleep. Thinking I had just been dreaming, I laid back down and closed my eyes. Within a few minutes, he was calling to me again!

This time I knew I heard him! I sat up in my blankets and said, “What, Dad?” “Shaney, go on now, get my gun for me.” I whispered loudly back and asked, “Your gun?” My dad said, “Shaney, go and get my gun. We are gonna hunt us some bear!” Now, the average grade school kid might have guessed that their dad was talking in his sleep.

Not me. I didn’t even know that people did that! So, when my dad tells me to get his gun, I’m going to get his gun! I start crawling all over the living room over sleeping bodies.

I was a skinny kid, so I was nothing but pointy elbows and knees. I am looking for my HERO’s gun and we are going to go hunt some bear? COUNT ME IN! So, I am crawling all over everyone looking for this gun that I had never seen before and I am not having any luck at all!

I start whispering loudly, “Dad, hey Dad, where is your gun?” Mom half groans, half laughs, and tells me to go back to sleep because Dad was dreaming. So, there it is… the cold hard truth. My daddy dreamed about me and him Daniel Booneing it!!!

Maybe I really was Daddy’s little bitch because he wanted to take me hunting! Lmao! He did try at one point, but when your hunting partner cries every time you kill an animal, it loses its appeal. He also took me fishing once. Just the two of us!

I was standing behind him when he cast his line, though, and it hooked me in the butt-cheek. I wasn’t the son he had hoped for, I’m sure.

But that’s okay because I grew up and beat the snot out of pretty much any boy that looked like a “SON” candidate or had potential as “SON” material!!

Hahahah I’m cool saying that because as a daughter, I am a way bigger bad ass than any son he would have had.

If my dad had a son, that child would have grown up to be completely worthless! He would have been so spoiled he wouldn’t be worth a damn! LOL!!

I have a couple of other dad memories. I do not know how old I was in these, okay? I just know I was really young.

Iowa State Fair. Dad was shooting wooden ducks and I was sitting on the kiosk ledge. When my dad cocked the gun, the hot shells popped out and landed in my lap and burned me.

Here’s another. The huge wavy slide at the state fair? I have a memory of Dad taking me down that slide and I was on his lap. When we hit a bump that sent him flying, he lost his grip on me and I slid, bare-skinned, the rest of the way down. Friction burns like crazy. Holy shit! I hope both of these weren’t on the same trip! Lmao!

I have lousy luck. lol But when that rare occasion comes around and my luck does peak? It always peaks huge. Okay, enough fun for now, lol.

I need to finish my flower bed, so I’m hanging it up for today!

Put your phones down, lift your lovely faces, and go get some sunshine. It’s a beautiful day out! Listen to some Marley, catch some rays, and I’ll hook back up with you tomorrow, Pally! Muah!

OMFGAWD I AM SUCH A COWARD Honesty time, damn it. I have been putting off moving on to my second marriage in this book.

I know, believe me, I do.

I’m being a coward, and I know it. So, Pally, please bear with me because this part of my story will always be an excruciating, raw, gaping wound for me.

Fast note to Mom and Karen: Where my personal life is concerned, I’m never going to do much more than feed you enough so that you would leave me be.

Explanation: Mom and Karen once acted like they cared how I felt, even though I knew that they didn’t.

Because it’s none of their business, I told them gossip-worthy lies because I learned long ago that, as long as the cats are eating what you feed them, they aren’t eating you.

So, I sat in my car and told them exactly what they wanted to hear. I told them that I had never been in love with Emery. I had love for him, but the act of falling into love never happened, and that our marriage was more a marriage of convenience.

I promise you, Pally, that I will tell you exactly why I would say such a hideous thing about my ex-husband. Shut up, auto-correct, I will spell that word any damned way that I want to.

I knew that if I wanted to feed those cats well, feeding them anything Emery should do the trick. Lol. It worked just as I knew it would.

J family rule of thumb = if it hurts Shaney, give it your complete support! What’s that? Oh, you think I am whining or making this stuff up? Ha-Ha!

My current husband Bob, did too. He thought I must have been making this stuff up because who does that kind of stuff to their own kids?

Then he met them. After driving more than 10 1/2 hours with 2 kids and 2 dogs 1 cat & 1 python; we were 8 people in all making this trip; Bob met my family.

In their house 30 seconds maximum; and it began. It seems as we get older, we lose the ability to disguise our true intentions regardless of what we say. Petty and predictable! 24/7.

I figured that should keep them busy for a while, which was good because I had my own stuff to deal with at that time.

It seemed to do the trick and lasted nearly 13 golden years before my brown-nosing sister, Dora, wanted to score some Daddy brownie points by reminding him that I was still out there somewhere! FLUFF!!!

What is it with these people??? OMGAWD! facepalm Thanks, Dora. You little suck butt!

(You can’t see me, but I am blowing raspberries at my laptop screen)

After that, I was back on the shit list.

My offense? ‘Pulling away from the family’, was the final conclusion.

13 YEARS, PEOPLE!! YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ME OR CALLED ME OR TAKEN A CALL FROM ME FOR 13 MUTHALUVIN YEARS! lmfao! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE! DORA HAD TO POINT IT OUT TO YOU!!

Omg lol I can’t breathe haha my face hurts hahah fuck too funny oh the stomach pain gawd I can’t lololololol It’s all so stupid lolololol

Crazy people; they’re not just for breakfast anymore! lolol

Ok, I think it’s def’ Fluffy time lol I need to wind down a bit ~ me thinks.

I’m out, Pally. Much peace and love. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope everyone had a lovely Mother’s Day! I meant to do some writing, but my youngest son, Cor, came over for a visit, and that always makes my day! Yesterday was perfect weather, and today is perfect overcast with rain.

I am going to have to tear down my gazebo in the next few days and then either get rid of it or repurpose it as a lawn shed. My husband isn’t really a ‘guy job’ kind of guy. Fortunately, I have always been a ‘guy job’ kind of woman.

I love working hard outside and despise being trapped indoors constantly. Besides, nobody can remove a laundry stain like my Bobby can! Lol. No joke. The man is a legend like that.

I have been practicing my unparalleled procrastination skills for the past two weeks. I think I’ve finally got it. When the Olympics begin, I will be ready to go for the gold!

I detest the very idea of opening the Emery/Samantha box because every time I try to even peek into that box, I get cut down to the white meat, and my soul just cries and cries. I am not sure that I can do it. I don’t think that I can open this one. Out of all the stuff I have survived, this is the one that nearly killed me. Revisiting that isn’t going to happen today, I’m sorry I just can’t.

This part of the story is, or rather was, the absolute foundation of my life. The very foundation, I had stood upon for all of my adult life.

Everything that made me who I was; was in that life.

Then it was gone. poof

I was happy and felt like that was where I belonged, for the very first time.

Yeah, I don’t think that I can do that today. Not on a gloomy day like this, ok? Please understand; I know myself too well.

So, I know that thinking gloomy on a gloomy day is never a good idea for anybody. I think that today I will try to keep it light.

Writing this has been beating me up pretty badly, so a break will maybe do us both some good.

I am going to the garage to walk Maggie, my potato dog, and I will try to think of some brighter days to share with you. Let’s see how the day goes, and then we will take it from there, okay?

RANDOM FUN

Maybe I will start off by telling you about the gifts we took to my mom yesterday. Bob picked out Mom’s gifts. He is freaking funny as hell! He got my mom a TWELVE-gallon bag of popcorn! I LOVE THIS GUY!

Pally, I wish you could have seen her face! Ha-ha! Mom was stoked! Lol! That bag came up to her knees! We figured that she could share with pretty much everybody lmao! I picked out the chocolate-covered cherry popcorn, which is a considerably smaller bag.

However, I do believe Mom will have to share that with Dad because as we were leaving, I noticed he was giving that popcorn the ‘Come Hither’ gaze! I mean, he could have been giving Mom that gaze, but my mind refuses to go anywhere near there, so we will go with the popcorn.

There was just the most tiny incident that happened while I was there and most people would probably chalk it up to whatever people chalk shit up to lol. So all of us were standing on my parents back porch. Mom had been sitting there beneath the shade using her computer.

Mom stood when we arrived and had stepped away from her chair when I noticed the computer. It caught my eye because it was so tiny and had a really cool shell on the outside. So, I said something like, “Wow look how little this is.” as I leaned toward it reaching out with my hand.

I couldn’t see the screen and I honestly wasn’t trying to see, I just thought it was cute! Mom made a move for it that told me; I was the last person who she wanted seeing the screen. Pally, you know that move right? It’s similar to the one a person who is doing shady shit online and is worried about getting caught. Yep! That’s the one alright! Weird right?

Anyway, I just want to say here; in a place that contains only my words. I was not trying to see your screen mostly because I have never cared less than I did at that moment; what you were up to. I still do not care. I never have and likely never will. I feel like a complete asshole for saying this but, I don’t find anyone interesting enough to care wth they are up to. Like ever.

Is that clear enough? Message received? So go! You do you! Your pettiness will remain safely yours! Happy days all around; just put it on my tab! Back to the popcorn Speaking of popcorn, lmao! I would kill for a small counter top sized popcorn machine that makes it like the theater.

Maybe later today I will look online for one and see what the prices are like. Holy crap…I just turned into everybody’s mom, didn’t I? I am so sorry. Not that being your mom wouldn’t be amazing, Pally and friends, but you aren’t here to read a mom talking to you.

Especially as you probably have one reading over your shoulder right now. wink-wink Hush now! I can dream that my story reaches millions of people, can’t I? Never mind, I’m going to anyway; so there! Lol!!

I need help coming up with a title for this book, but I’m only coming up with stupid ones. Like, ‘Who Wants to Make Me a Millionaire,’ and ‘Free Money,’ then in tiny print type the word ‘Needed.’ Or how about, ‘I Want to Run Away. May I Borrow Your Island?’ Or my current fave, ‘Buy My Book So I May Run Away!’

Yeah, I didn’t think so either. You see Pally, it is my hope and dream that I will sell enough books to be able to at least live out the rest of my days without struggling. I have no desire to get rich. I just want to know for once in my life; that I am going to be ok.

Mostly, I would love to do that someplace far, far, away from here.

Maybe an old abandoned surfer shack near the ocean. Oh! An old boathouse would be divine! Even an abandoned warehouse near a beach. Or a lovely stone cottage in the forest.

Nothing big or grand, just something that makes me feel like comfort can be found there. Someplace warm where I can spend days beach combing, collecting rocks and shells.

Someplace quiet and away from people where I can hear my own thoughts again; if they still exist.

That’s the dream Pally. My bucket list dream used to be to live in Santorini Greece or one of the less inhabited islands but that doesn’t seem realistic for me.

Just a dream Sigh; Oh well. A girl can dream, can’t she? All I seriously need at this point in my life is all of my bowls of various smoked foods and fruit, cereal and aromatherapy; a quiet, warm, beautiful beach, my husband, and my pups.

I don’t think I am allowed much more than that, and maybe I shouldn’t be. :) If I can make enough from putting my lifetime in print, to accomplish that, I can die a happy woman. Anyway, that’s the dream I’m aiming for!

Omg, Pally, Lol, now I am using you to procrastinate about making my eye and dental appointments! I also need to order Jaxon some new pants on Amazon.

Meanwhile, I haven’t been telling you much of anything!! Put me in, Coach! I am finally ready to go for that Olympic Procrastination Gold! I think I can bring it home. Mhm.

If I’m being honest with the universe and all within; I’d rather curl up under some really soft blankets, get super fluffy, and binge-watch something or nap. Most anything but what I know I need to do. People will say or think that they know how I feel, but I assure you respectfully; you do not.

Talking about this day, Pally, is to me like trying to tell you about the day I died. It all seems like it happened entirely too close to the day that I learned how to live, Pally!

I still feel cheated, and that pisses me off on top of all the other stuff attached to this part of the story. It’s hard to sort it all out because this all began long before it actually started.

UGH! Fine. I will dry my damned face and I will go make appointments!

After I get fluffy.

Fine. I am a big fat liar and coward. I own that.

Oh, damn it. I will tell you about this, Pally, I promise, but not today, ok? I just cannot get sucked into that pity party, and believe me, I always knew how to party and I can go for literally weeks.

So, I’m sorry, Pally. I just can’t today.

It hurts too much. After all these years, the wound still feels brand new and raw. I haven’t even typed about it yet, and the tears are flowing… yeah, not today.

Let’s see if I can make you laugh instead.

Deal?

Please?

Deal! OK.

Remember, if it isn’t true, I can’t type it. Not on these pages.

So all this crazy stuff is bonafide.

I may have, sort of, kidnapped a boyfriend or more, but that’s not here.

Here, we are talking about just one. So yes, fine, I may have done that. In my defense, he had it coming. Really, they both did, but I let one go-ish.

BRB I forgot to get fluffy!!! What is this world coming to?

I won’t mention names of people, cities, states or countries in this one because although I am somewhat sure that the statute of limitations might have me covered here, I’m not 100% on that. So, if anyone asks, just tell them that this one might be fictional and that you just never know! Mkay? Lmao!!

So at this time, I wasn’t enrolled in any schools, and I had never been to this town before. But I met this seriously handsome boy, and I was hooked like a marlin!

For nearly three weeks, we were inseparable, and then he had to go back to school. He had already shown me where he went to school, so that first day back, I decided to surprise him by making him lunch, and maybe we could have a picnic lunch.

He seemed to be living alone in this gigantic house by himself. He told me that his parents were hardly ever home. They traveled a lot, and his dad played golf and his mother drank a lot lol. This handsome boy also loved golf and wanted to one day play professionally. He kept promising to teach me how to play. I grabbed a hold of the handle of his golf bag and picked up the basket of food.

I loaded everything into his mom’s car (he told me I could use it) and drove to his school. I was a little bit early because I wanted time to make sure that my hair and makeup looked good before seeing him.

So, I am sitting in his mom’s car when I see him coming around the side of the building with a cute blonde cheerleader. I would have totally understood if he had a girlfriend at school, but all he had to do was say so. We could have kept everything casual. Instead, he had been talking to me about meeting his parents and a future.

Ugh! Why all the lying and betrayal? I really was crazy about him. If my life was going to be treated like a game, I intended to win! I was heartsick and mad as hell.

The world around me slowed, and sounds seemed deadened. A plan was unfolding itself in my mind, and it could be epic! The world snapped back into shape, and I was fine. I watched them jump into a little red car and drive out of the parking lot. I followed far enough behind them that I felt safe from being spotted.

They drove to a huge (and I mean freakishly huge) white mansion on a hill overlooking the city. It was located about a half mile from his house just outside the edge of town. They both went inside, and when they came back out about thirty minutes later, the girl had changed her clothes. They got back into the red car and drove off, with me following behind them.

After making a stop at a small blue house, they finally parked at the top of the bluffs overlooking the river. While I was waiting, I thought it would be a good idea to check out the area. I looked around, and this place seemed pretty remote. Isolated even. No people around.

Pretty soon, I could see from where I was, that the windows were quickly steaming up. I waited five minutes because experience told me that anything longer was a crap-shoot. I pushed the button to unlock the trunk, then I quietly got out of the car, made my way around to the trunk, and took out a golf club. By now, I was seething with rage, but I tried to stay calm.

I walked up to the little red car, and there they were, all skin, no cloth. That tracks. I tapped firmly on the driver’s side window with the club. They were both startled and scrambled to put their clothes back on. I walked around to the passenger side door and pulled the offending kickstand owner out of the car and onto the ground.

He had managed to put his shirt back on but not his pants, and it gave me a giggle to see his bright-white, pimple-covered butt covered in dirt. Once I had him out of the car, I leaned down and told the cheerleader that she needed to go home and forget that this day ever happened. She readily agreed, slammed the car door, and took off like a bat out of hell.

Now, what to do with this guy? I told him to get up off the ground. He started running his mouth, making threats against me, saying he was going to lock me up for what I was doing. He shut up when I informed him that his threats only come true if the authorities can find his body. That shut him up. I got him into the trunk and drove to the opposite side of town, making a stop at the local dollar store. I left the car running with windows half down and music blasting.

Nobody was going to hear him. His Mom’s car had a Bose system. Then, I drove way out into the middle of nowhere, munching on some Funyuns.

Finally, I found a patch of timber, and stopped the car. I could hear him whining and yelling in the trunk, but I just ignored him because I didn’t care. I pulled a yellow bag out of the back seat and found the duct tape that I had just bought. Humming a little ditty to myself, I walked around to the back of the car and popped the trunk lid open.

That boy was laying in that trunk covered in his own pee, and all I could think of was that his mom is going to love that fragrance in her car. Lol.

I told him to get out of the trunk, and as he was climbing out, I could see him looking for a way to run away, but I showed him that I still had the golf club, so he cooperated.

I tossed him a pair of pink shorty shorts that said “BabyGirl” across the butt, all bedazzled out in pretty pink sparkles, and an orange tube top covered in colorful stars sequins.

I tossed the clothes to him and told him to put them on. He did it, but he wasn’t happy at all and he threw his shirt at me after taking it off. Cussing, threatening, and carrying on as if he had any control over the situation. I didn’t bother to respond to anything he said.

After he put the clothing on, I tossed his old t-shirt into the trunk of the car and then gave him a neon pink, 3/4 length, overly furry sweater and told him to put that on as well. He did, and when he had finished, I told him to back up to the nearest tree. When he did, I taped him to that tree and then, once he was secured and couldn’t fight me, I put his hair up in tiny pigtails all over his head and gave him a makeover that would make the Kardashians blush!

Then, I put a pair of bear claw style, fuzzy slippers on his feet. I stuffed that tube top with leaves so that he would look busty, then I stuffed his mouth full of a maxi pad. (I happened to have a spare)

I told this Romeo wannabe, that because it was fall, hunters would be coming around soon enough if he couldn’t get himself loose before then.

Then, I asked him if he had ever seen the movie Deliverance. He started shaking his head “no,” and his eyes were huge! I took that to mean that he hadn’t yet had that privilege. I stood there looking at my beautiful creation and informed him, “Well, then I do believe you are in for a treat!”

Just asking him that question and seeing the way he looked put me in a much better mood!

I told him that if he did manage to get loose, he would have to walk back to town. I informed him that trying to wipe off the makeup was useless because I had dolled him up with Sharpies.

Then I left that boy there, in the timber, all dolled up with no place to go. I feel like he got off easily, but that’s just me.

After I left him there, I drove his mom’s car to the next town and gassed it up with her credit card. Then I took the card, keys and registration into the station and handed them to the clerk. I wrote down the address where the car belonged as well as the phone number and told the clerk that someone would be by later that evening to pick it up, but if they didn’t show up, he should call the number on the paper.

The clerk was too busy looking at my chest to disagree, so I left it all there and took off on foot. I sometimes wonder if that boy still looked amazing when he was found or if he got loose and walked into town. It’s hard to say.

Today, I think I will be taking down my deck cover. I got most of it done yesterday; today is just the base frame. It’s like a large square gazebo. I think I am going to use the base frame and attach sticks to the outside like siding so that we will have either a garden shed or a hot tub house.

I’ll be honest; I’m kind of torn. On one hand, I want a freaking hot tub.

But on the other hand, I want an old-style, overfilled English garden with stone paths and an overgrown artist studio.

However, on the flip side, Carl owns my house and I just rent it, so why would I build? Because I want it, lmao!

I have these really great neighbors from Bosnia, I think, and the lady of that house has wonderful taste. I know for a fact that if I put something unattractive in my yard, she will later give me a better replacement because she is very visually driven. So if she sees something she doesn’t like, she replaces it!

Hell, I am thinking of finding someone with a junky Mustang. Maybe she will give me a newer Shelby! Ha-Ha!

After living next door to her for 13 years, I still don’t know her name, but she seems super nice, as does her husband.

I am going to have to disappoint you again because I am not going to delve into my second marriage today. I’m sorry, but it is the very hardest thing for me.

This part of the story contains everything that meant anything to me. It’s the most bitter pill and nearly impossible for me to swallow even today.

Look, I know this doesn’t make sense, but I am afraid. If I put words to this, it becomes too real. Let me step away for a bit, and when I return, maybe I will make a running start at it to see if I can just do it and be done with it.

Chapte35: EMERY~ The beginning of us

There was no “ME” until there was an “US”.

One night, Hosebag, Greg (her BF), and I were down the alley from The Waterfront nightclub. We were behind the bar that used to be called The Union Station, but since my Uncle Floyd and Lori bought it; they called it The Wild Side. That is what it was called on this night.

Anyway, there was a bunch of us standing outside the bar when this huge street sweeper pulled up, “Spirit in the Sky” blasting from it, driven by this gigantic redneck with a massive beard! That’s how you make an entrance, lol! I remember grabbing Hosebag by the arm and asking her who was driving it, and she said, “Oh, that’s Emery.”

(Within weeks, Hosebag moved down south and we remained friends for decades.)

I was intrigued and wondered what other kinds of motorized toys he had. I lust after muscle cars. It’s a sickness with me. It’s not below me to gleek over a street sweeper! haha!

I ADORE big, fast, and loud monster motors (my fave is the 351 Cleveland), and the faster a car goes, the happier I am!

Nothing about me is average; some things are above, and a vast many things are below. I’m good with that, but I was never meant to be the typical mom or wife for anyone. I am simply not wired like that. I always lived large and loud, and I always minded the number of regrets that I collected along the way. I tried to be very careful to avoid making any. This part of my story is full of the regrets that I thought I had avoided in life.

I thought wrong because it never occurred to me that many regrets I would have would be due to the actions of others. I find that I have deep regrets for choices others have made and I got caught up in.

For example, in the following story, maybe there was a way through this that I couldn’t see. In my own ignorance; I still can’t see it.

Maybe I handled everything poorly. Maybe I made bad choices. Maybe I could have used some solid advice from friends or family.

My intent towards my husband and children was never malicious. Never to hurt them in any imaginable way.

Anybody who truly knew me back then and still couldn’t even give me the same chances that I had given to them over the years …….(throat clearing), MICK; Shame on you. FAMILY; Shame on you. OFFSPRING; Shame on you. HOSEBAG; Shame on you. Seriously. Just shame on you. That’s all.

Emery. My soul place. My ride or die.

To me, his name was Em. Always.

He was a great big guy. 6’3”, 325 pounds, solid muscle and the love of my life. He was nearly 13 years older than me, and he was my best friend, lover, and my husband. He always treated me as if I were the most precious thing in his world.

He spoiled me stupid. He made me laugh. It was with him that I learned how to be a mother, a woman and a wife. He never judged me; would jump to my defense in a second, and God help anyone who hurt me. He would end them on the spot. We almost never argued about much of anything, and when we did, it was the kids, lol.

We were the best of friends. The best of lovers. The best of enemies. We were the best together. We really loved spending time together. My Aunt Velveeta and her kids, spent more time around us than anyone else and I’m certain she they can all verify this to be fact.

We were stupid in love. Almost every Sunday, before they were old enough for school, we would take the kids for all-day car rides, out in the country or take the boat out on the river, or rides on the golf carts. This continued until they had started school.

I met Em when I was 18 yrs old, and mother to a 1 year-old little boy. It happened just like it did with Skidmark. He caught my attention, and that was it. On first sight. Some way or another, I knew we would be together.

I’m not saying it was love at first sight. I’m saying seeing them tugged at me; giving me the heads up that I was supposed to go there.

?

Wait, that doesn’t taste right; lol..Um, omg I don’t know how to explain it. Hahaha! Ugh, I’m sorry that I suck at explaining things. I really do wish I could explain it because I think it’s important but I really don’t know how to be more clear about something I’ve never given much thought to. I feel a tug and follow it.

That about covers it. Lmao! I have weird, strange instincts sometimes.

One day, Emery and I took our friends Pat and Mike out on our boat. We used to go every single day and took the kids with us! Anyway, at the end of this day, the kids were with my mom and dad. We pulled the boat up to our dock and Emery got out to tie us off.

I had just stood up and had my back to him when I felt; well it was a bit more than a tug really; it felt more like a quick, sharp jerk; and I knew; without knowing how I knew; what I had to do. I spun around and jumped into the air, landing one foot squarely between Emery’s shoulders, as he was crouched down tying off the boat, and launched myself off of him all the way up to the top of the bank. Pally!

I wasn’t fat; not on that day anyhow, lol shut up! Lmao!!! Seriously though. I had just enough time after I landed to turn and watch Emery falling then sinking as our dock crumbled into the

Des Moines River. I never did figure out why the dock collapsed, it was in immaculate shape and was sturdy as could be. So there’s that as an example. Maybe now it makes better sense.

Just intuition I think.

Forward! I loved throwing house parties! We; Hosebag and I, would often take the night club bands, and pretty much everyone from the bar, home with us, after closing, to party at my house. Em had begun attending these parties.

Then he started staying after the parties, so I started feeding him. I need to rephrase that. He started passing out in the middle of my living room floor, so I eventually started feeding him. My Em, was not a small boy.

He was a gargantuan of a man. He was tall and oak solid. He also took up the entire living room floor because he never mastered the art of not passing out spread eagle! This would later lead to, me bum rushing him into my bedroom to sleep in my bed before he could pass out most nights. I knew damn well that I wasn’t going to be sleeping, so it was all good. This worked a trick, though.

Next thing I know, he has me running errands for him, and he is introducing me to his family. It all seemed good, and I didn’t mind the steak and egg breakfasts at the Bar.

He would get off work and drive out to my house to pick us, Shaun (my son) and I, up and take us to breakfast at 7:30 am! I can’t even see in color until at least 1 pm!! But there I was at 8 am, in a tiny bar at the end of a desolate alley, eating steak and eggs while watching, as this hairy giant taught my little boy how to shoot pool.

He loved Shaun right from the start, and Shaun loved him too. Em didn’t have to say it, although he did; and he showed it without hesitation. I think he may have loved Shaun long before he loved me.

That’s how he won my heart; by choosing to be kind and loving to my son and then, to me. I’m really easy to please and so was Em. We were both so weird lol.

That doesn’t mean that we never argued or disagreed. I would hate a marriage like that. I mean that we learned quickly how each other worked, and we got past problems together quickly. We were a really great team!

So, looking back, I have no regrets about continuing to feed the Big Foot who was now romping around the bar like a madman, whinnying like a horse with my toddler on his shoulders, and he didn’t care what anybody thought of that.

That did it! SOLD! One day, I said myself, “Why not?” and I decided to keep him. Lol. I was feeding him, and he came back every morning like a stray tomcat, so it seemed like the natural next step.

So, I did eventually. I was dating a friend of his when I first met him, named Fred. Hey Fred! Lol!

Before I decided to keep Em, there was a morning that Fred and I went out to Emery’s house because Fred said that Em was the best mechanic he had ever known.

Fred needed help with his ‘69 Chevelle Malibu SS. (The reason I was dating Fred was to date that car and Fred knew it! LOL, It’s my fave.)

He was right, BTW. Em had more natural skill in literally EVERYTHING he tried than any other person alive today. He could just imagine it and build it. He was brilliant. A modern day DaVinci.

Fred needed a drive shaft for his Chevelle. Emery was working nights for the city, so morning was the only time that we could meet with him. So, Fred and I drove out to this tiny old coal mining town called Kirkville, Iowa.

I had only been there one time before, when Mom and Dad were out house shopping. I actually pointed at Emery’s house to them that day, and said “Well, you could always buy that house!” Lmao!

It was dumpy as hell looking, and I was being a smart ass! Little did I know then, that a giant chunk of my world and the resolute foundation I would build my life upon would happen in that dumpy house!

I got no tug. No pull. No jerk. Just a simple mention in passing conversation and I didn’t get a heads up that time. Or maybe that day was the heads up. I wasn’t paying enough attention. It happens. Coincidence? Lol, not even.

Emery owned about 5 acres there and told me that it had been a tree farm at one time. He took us around to his beautiful backyard, and we all sat down at a picnic table.

The guys talked, and I just kind of sat there. It really was a beautiful patch of land. The day before, I had gotten entirely too much sun, and the whole front of my body was covered in blisters. It hurt a bunch.

As the guys sat there talking, Emery’s dad came over with a 12-pack of beer and joined them. This wasn’t my first rodeo, so I settled in and got comfy. Soon, the fellas were shit-faced and funny ASF. They kept me laughing most of the day.

After several hours, Emery’s dad headed home telling me that he enjoyed meeting me and I said the same.

I can handle happy drunks, but the angry drunks, cry baby drunks?? Not so much.

At some point though, guy drunks always want to do stupid shit. Usually that is my favorite part.

I should point out that I never drink beer. I drink whiskey, tequila, or mezcal. Hell yes I do that tequila and Mezcal are two separate things. I tag this subject the same as politics and religion.

We wont be going there in this book lmao. They are just different. That’s all. Lol. Never beer.

The point is; I was the only on sober.

So, this Johnny Bravo-built MF, starts running his mouth at me, saying he was going to steal me from Fred as he began crowding in, closer to me.

o_O

Mhm, tell me more…I’m listening…

I told this giant, drunk, redneck that I didn’t belong to Fred or anyone else, so he needed to back the fluff up off of me before he got hurt. That sent this over sized dust bunny into gales of laughter!

I weighed 98 pounds soaked and wet. lol Hush now; it was the 80’s and I was rawkin that ass. Anyway… Buddy thought I was joking! Lol! Isn’t that adorable?

Well, this giant ball of hillbilly hair and Fred had been looking at this pair of really cool antique handcuffs that Emery had.

I had to pee, and I got up to go find the ladies’ room AKA a tree, when this mutated, Jethro MF, grabs me and pushes me face first up to this pine tree I was standing next to. (Not hard. He wasn’t aggressive or anything, just drunk; and stupid).

Anyway, then Baby Huey got it in his drunken head that it would be hysterical to handcuff me to this tree! (I want to note here, once again, I was sunburned with blisters all over my body and I still had to pee, so you can see how this wasn’t going to work for me.)

Now, I don’t know what kind of world this over-grown, steroidal, space gorilla lived in, but in my world…Grape Ape went too far.

It was on!

I told him that he had gone too far, and he just laughed and laughed. He stood there laughing at me like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen and heard!

I have to give it up for those guys, they were really happy drunks! Lol Good times! Everybody’s a comedian until they aren’t. But that’s okay because, I told General Zod that he would have to uncuff me at some point, and when that time came, his ass was mine.

Oh, he would just laugh and laugh, and I would smile sweetly and let him. So I stood there for almost an HOUR! Handcuffed, blisters leaking icky stuff, that I could feel running down my body, and it was grossing me out. On top of all that, I HAD TO PEE!!!

But I was calm and smiling the whole time. I even winked at him a couple of times.

They sat there shooting the shit, getting knackered, and poking fun at me while I stood there quietly.

Finally, the beer-soaked Sasquatch stumbles over to me and asks, “Have you had enough?”

I didn’t answer, and he swung his head back to look at Fred and said, “Uh-oh, buddy, she’s mad! I think I’m in big trouble here Hardy Har-Har!!”

Every drunk thinks they’re a comedian…

Fred just sat there, looking like a bobble-head; barely able to hold his head up; grinning like he just won free tickets to the circus.

Em stumbled back a couple of steps and, lowering his eyes to mine, said, “Awe, don’t be mad now; wee wur justss having a bit ov ffun. sssorry if I may you mad. Oh annn Fredddysssorry too, arsha Freddy?”

Fred just mumbled something, then turned his head and barfed on the ground behind himself.

Em nearly fell while trying to look over his shoulder at Fred and laughed when Fred barfed.

I knew I had to get this Yeti’s attention before he fell down and passed out with the key!

I still had to get off this damned tree somehow. That’s when I turned on the charm as if my kidneys depended on it.

I worked that itchy, scratchy, sticky pine tree, like a dance pole. Well; as much as handcuffs would allow.

I smiled and that huge pile of dryer lint and purred that I loved being cuffed and suggested that maybe we could take turns. With, less clothing.

Then I brought out the big guns.

I looked that apocalyptic, dust bunny right in his beautiful swimmy hazel eyes and I asked him if he had any other toys like this and maybe, if he could get rid of Fred , I could invite some of my girlfriends over so we could all play with him.

He looked like the happiest child on Christmas morning!! Mhm, Grape-Ape was all in! lol

He started moving toward Fred and I had to call him back. It’s a good thing too, because Magilla the Gorilla looked like he was tempted to just picked Fred up and chuck him out in the road just to ‘get rid’ of him! Lol

I told Emery to uncuff me first, and I would go get ready for him while he sent Fred home. He started nodding so hard he should have gotten whiplash, and got out the keys.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

That Abominable SnowHick couldn’t uncuff me fast enough! He was already sporting a pup tent he, was so ready! Lmao!! (You guys are too easy.) He kept dropping the keys as he tried to unlock the cuffs, but he finally got it done.

He unlocked the first cuff and started scrambling to unlock the second cuff; as soon as he did, I punched him in the face so hard that I sat him straight back on his giant, furry, drunken ass! :)

His sunglasses disintegrated into flying parts, and cut open his upper eyelid down the middle, leaving bits of eyelid hanging from his face like eye flaps.

I just kept throwing hands and getting in as many licks as I could before I could be stopped. That’s when I saw Fred; flying through the air at me from over the top of the picnic table! I stepped back, and he landed on the huge, blood-soaked neanderthal-throwback that was now puking in the grass nearby.

I stood there looking at Dumb & Dumber; rolling around in Captain Caveman’s vomit as they tried to get up off the ground.

Suddenly, that backwoods buck-humper grabs Fred’s arm and says, “Surry buds; I’m gonna muuurrrry yer gurrfrun.” Fred’s head rolled back and he asked Emery; with both of them still laying in puke, “Wisshh wun?” then he passed out in a puddle of buffalo barf.

Covered in vomit and blood, Em wasn’t looking very convincing from where I stood. Buddy had puke and blood caked in his beard and he was sitting on the ground grinning up at me like someone just gave him a cookie!

He slurred, “I yam, ya know.” I looked down at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m gonna murry yooo,” then he passed out.

Me? Smh, I walked away from both of them, peed behind a tree, then fell asleep in the car. Boys. They never change, lol.

So, a couple of months later, there was a motorcycle run, with ABATE and Hair-Bear asked me if I wanted to go, and I said sure.

It was there at that run that I decided to date Em and dump Fred. Which I did the very next morning on Father’s Day, 1987.

That was our first official day as a couple. Me and my Giant.

Okay, I got through that part! That was the easy part, bittersweet even. Hurts like hell yet makes me laugh. Thinking about Emery, warms me even as it’s breaking me.

This next bit is hard and painful from here forward. I am feeling a bit maudlin now.

Pally, I don’t think I could do this if you weren’t here with me because this moment, right here; is harder than the day I left.

Thank you Pally.

So, I will take a break and collect myself and I when I return; I will do this. Ok? I swear that I will.

Okay.

MY EM.

Emery was my soulmate from that very first day, and I knew it. He knew it too and often told me so. Omg, I can hardly breathe. Oh god I just can’t…I am NOT OK!! I cant do this I cant Not right now ok? NOTHING IS OK.

Alright, I’ve got this. I can do this, right?

Emery was my soulmate from that very first day, and I knew it and so did he.

Our love; between Emery and I; was the cleanest, purest thing I have ever known. It was utterly flawless and complete.

We had the most beautiful children, and we were so happy! All of us! I loved our good days and our crappy days; I loved being in our family! I loved being us! Then it was gone. Poof! … again…

This wasn’t part of a life or the beginnings of a life that poofed; THIS WAS MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! MY HEART! MY SOUL! MY WORLD! MY EVERYTHING! JUST gone. Just gone again. I can’t do this. I really just don’t think that I can. It hurts too much. I thought I could do this. I really did.

There’s no way this will help when it feels so horrible. I mean, I can’t stop crying for fuck’s sake! I loved him so much. I would have loved him even if we had no kids together! The fact that we did simply put me completely over the moon! I LOVED MY LIFE! I HAD NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY, SAFE, OR CONTENT EVER IN MY LIFE.

A minute please, my friend…so hard.

Our life.

This isn’t to say that I didn’t have shit days; we all do. But I can promise you this: I had way fewer shit days than anyone else I ever knew, and I attribute that to just being happy and loving the life I had.

I really did love my life. I loved someone, and he loved me back even though he didn’t have to.

He taught me things and allowed himself to learn from me too.

We were connected in a way that I can’t even begin to explain.

One time, the two of us got a weekend away from the kids! IKR?

So, we packed up our gear onto the Harley and took off like a flash! Lol! He and I have camped all over this state, and if we didn’t camp it, we rode through it at least!

At some point, we had decided to go see his lifelong friend and Godfather to our children, John.

John lived in Fort Dodge, Iowa, and as we were climbing onto the motorcycle, Em was explaining to me that we had more than a two-hour drive ahead of us.

I was pretty exhausted and started whining about being hungry and asking if there was a town nearby.

I remember asking if we could please not get fast food this time.

Emery turns to me and, straight-faced as a MF, says to me, “Certainly, Madame; would you be interested in some French cuisine?” Ok, you might need a visual here.

Ok, I am going to attempt to describe Em to you.

Okay, so I need you to picture a much taller, a little bit leaner, and darker Grizzly Adams. Or maybe he was more of a Sam Elliott but on steroids would describe him better.

Anyway, go look up Grizzly Adams and Sam Elliott. Wait, nope. Best example: Jason Momoa. He looked quite a lot like Jason Momoa when we first met.

We hung out at The Wildside because as I said before, it was family owned.

So, Floyd Stockdall was my Uncle by marriage but he was cool with me so I kept him as my uncle.

His wife Lori, though.

She never should have been jailed because while she and Floyd were running Ottumwa, they put that entire into an economic boon that it isn’t likely to ever see again!

She employed more people than the meat packing ever did!

People are so stupid. She shouldn’t have been jailed.

She should have been made FREAKING MAYOR!

That is nothing short of the facts.

One day, Pally, I’m going to tell you the real story of how the conditions were in that armpit of a town and what Floyd and Lori really brought to it.

Believe me; the nightmare stories are the only things you hear about and I honestly; never saw any of that!

As for neglected kids and kids growing up to use drugs?

I challenge you to name any city in America where people don’t do that same shit every day WITHOUT drugs!

Okay then.

Until you cough up a name of said city; respectfully, don’t soil their names by letting them leak out of that ignorant hole in your face. You’re embarrassing yourself and need to hush.

True story.

I’m going to go become a unicorn kind of fluffy while you look those guys up.

So then my BFG says to me, as I stare at him waiting for this extended dramatic pause to end, (he loved those), and he tells me that he wants to take me to a new French restaurant he had heard about.

Ok, that got my attention; so I asked what it was called, and he says to me, “It’s called… “Le’ Hardays.” I rolled that around for a moment while he watched my face, and I was all like, “Le’ Hardays, Hardays, Hard, Har; wait! Hardees?!?!? Damnit Em!!! LOLOLOL!! OMFGAWD! Yes, he meant Hardees, and we were both laughing hard enough it’s a wonder we didn’t wreck.

We were pretty damn good together. I know that for some he may have seemed too old for me, but I never noticed. Besides, I’m more of a go-directly-to-the-source kind of gal. Why waste my life on someone of younger age who hasn’t figured out that anything yet?

That’s like having to house break a full grown man! Do you have that kind of patience? If you do, well good on ya, because I was never good at house-breaking men. They hate when I use the water bottle to spray them.

(NOTE: I highly recommend it though, especially if his eyes wander in public. Anyway, it works every time.)

Whatever, it never mattered to me; it was never something I ever thought about. All that ever mattered to me was that he FELT LIKE HOME TO ME, and I’d never felt like that before.

He knew my every deepest buried secret and memory as well as my every hope and dream. It felt like it was okay for my soul to rest here, and there was never any need for worry.

I trusted Emery IMPLICITLY and COMPLETELY in everything. He protected me and made me completely untouchable. Nobody could hurt me or our kids. I would obliterate anyone who hurt him.

That was our life.

Every single day, we both told our kids that we loved them. We both did! Lol, we were crazy for our kids! We were crazy because of our kids!

Back to Emery and how he looked.

Suffice it to say, if giant men are your jam, my man was hawt. I digs me a giant man… always have.

STFU Dora! Ha-ha! Gurl, nobody gives two fluffy fluffs what you think of him. I think you were just jealous because I loved him and he loved me back.

Girl! You’re just being cray-cray, so hush now. I always love my sisters. I might not like them sometimes, but love is forever without pause.

Stop glaring at Pally’s pages like that Dora! YOU DORK, LOL! And stop rolling your eyes at me, smart ass! Ha-ha! You know I love you more than new stiletto heels with a matching handbag, Dora!

Emery was essential to my being. He was my air and light. He was my life’s blood.

I once beat up that giant Hurley boy for punching Emery in the face at The Waterfront! ‘Sup Jim? wink-wink

I would have given my physical heart to him if he needed it. I would have shot myself in the head, at the hospital ER, if he needed my heart. I wouldn’t have hesitated.

I cannot think of any comparisons that even come close to explaining us. Maybe it isn’t possible.

Those who really knew the two of us can’t deny that he and I were our best selves when we were together.

I used to think that there was nothing in this world that could ever separate Emery and I.

I was wrong and that has been harder to accept than losing my Daughter.

Believe it or not.

If reincarnation is a real thing, then I know that we will find one another again, and chances are I will have to bail his butt out of whatever trouble he manages to get into!

I am personally hoping to be reincarnated as one of the June bugs that will eventually hit him in the forehead as he flies down some highway somewhere on his Harley. Lol!

That’s how connected we were. I don’t think many people knew us well enough to know that.

I miss him constantly, and Bob knows this, but Bob also knows that he and I share something altogether different but no less deep; no less strong.

Ok, this part has many intricacies woven through the fabric of it and, I’m not confident I will be able to properly convey the reality of it all, but I will try.

I will do my best not to get carried away with emotions, but know that this is going to hurt me, Pally.

It’s going to hurt me so very badly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I know I wil bleed here.

THE END OF US~What am I now?

Emery wasn’t like anybody else I had ever known before. He was, when we were alone, so real and genuine; nothing like the Emery he would show to people.

He had his insecurities, and not all the stories he told about himself were true, but when he fibbed, it was completely harmless and almost always funny as hell. He was my man.

He really was a good man, but even good men make stupid choices and then try to cover them up with lies and even more stupid choices, when there was never a need for lies to begin with. sigh This almost always costs everyone everything.

I know firsthand the price required for stupid choices. I’ve made more than my fair share, but when men do this, the dynamics are completely different. Wait; that’s not fair or accurate; is it Pally?

Let me take another run at this. I have made copious amounts of stupid choices in my life. Emery making stupid choices; was on an entirely different level.

I remember standing there, facing him. Our daughter was sitting just behind me.

I remember I was crying so hard, and I screamed at Emery, “What have you done?!? You have ruined EVERYTHING!”

(Me screaming those words. That continues to ring in my head to this day.)

Sometimes I wonder what Sammy thought of those words or if she ever thought of them at all. It’s possible that she hasn’t thought about that night at all. After all, whether she likes it or not, she is MY daughter, and that’s something she can ever change and she can never control.

Every time she rolls with the punches, throws punches, adapts, gets a phone call from one of her babies while they are at school and she is at work, each time she improvises, or says “I love you,” hugs her babies, makes the hard choice, pays the price, says something amazingly stupid, or even something as small as each time she sees a woman jumping in rain puddles, making friendship bracelets, or brushing her little one’s hair like she did mine—omg—or every time she gets the HICCUPS or sees a frozen rabbit (Babs).

Hears an intercom (Homey & Honey.)

That’s all me, baby.

Between your dad’s genetics and my tenacity, we could have only made a survivor. I mean, that’s just a no-brainer.

Point being, it’s highly likely that she already has me boxed up and put away. :)

She always was brilliant and resourceful.

And there I go chasing bunnies again, lmao! That’s what Bob says, haha. He says, “Oh look, a bunny!” or “Oh look! A chicken!” That’s how he lets me know I’ve wandered too far, lmao!

Emery and Bob would have gotten along famously. These two are so alike and so different at the same time that together, they would have been my most perfect man ever.

However, he would still do stupid shit, and I would still love him anyway, lol!

Returning to the real past now.

I don’t even know where to begin in this freaking dumpster fire, of a life.

Right now, I just want to crawl under my desk and cry until I disappear, and it has been like this since 2003! 2003, and it is still this raw; can you imagine that? Bleeding that long?

Alright, maybe I need to start working on my shit when it happens, but that isn’t always possible or ideal; believe me.

Most of the time, my knee-jerk reaction, if something hurts me too deeply; is to punch it, shoot it, or stab it. Bare minimum I will beat the brakes off of it; and Bob’s yer Uncle! Oh, and I do have references but not looking for work in that area, lmao!

This pain though; it doesn’t work like that; I’m just stuck with it until I can force myself to make friends with it. So there’s that.

First, I need more than a little bit of fuzziness. I need A LOT. I wonder; Pally, do you think a person could I.V. smoke? Just thinking….. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pally, I am here again and I have decided that this is the very last time I am going to try to tell this part.

If I can’t do it, I will just scrap the book all together.

UNBEARABLE REALITY

Ok so Emery and I got married and we now have two beautiful children.

Em’s parents lived next door to us. Shaun and I love them t pieces!

Emery refused to let Shaun start school with another man’s last name and he adopted Shaun before school began. Because he loved Shaun. I know he did and that’s one of the many things that makes this so damned hard.

Emery and I were always doing things with our kids. Fishing trips, boat rides, Adventure Land, Disney World, camping, swimming, hiking, riding on golf carts, auctions, zoos, traveling to New Mexico and Mexico to see friends.

We stayed the night in the desert of Roswell, New Mexico next to the Bottomless Lake. There was no water in the lake and we didn’t see any UFO’s darn it! Carlsbad Caverns was pretty cool, the kids worried that Emery’s butt would get stuck in the caves though because we had to squeeze through in some places.

Also, when we were at Disney World, Emery pulled King Arthur’s sword from the stone! He was king for the day! Lol

I loved our life.

Pretty much any activity you can think of, we were doing it with our kids. Drag races and stock car races, rummage sales and just out visiting friends. We were always really active with them.

Now, if you think back, maybe you remember me telling you about a little girl named Mick who had come over to my parents house and had been jumping on the bed with my sisters.

Well back then, Mick was maybe five years old and had told me that her Mom’s boyfriend had been mean to her and her sister.

I went to my Dad, at that time, and he went to Mick’s Mom.

They were living in a big red apartment building at the end of our alley and it barely had furniture or food. The kids were alone most of the time.

After my Dad had a talk with Mick’s Mom, they moved and I forgot all about it.

Mick was a really cute kid. She looked like Buffy from that old TV program, Family Affair. White hair and freckles with huge blue eyes.

Anyway, I was buying a house out on Blackhawk Road, that my parents helped me get, and my cousin Tammy lived near by.

Her Daughter Jen would sometimes babysit for me and Emery.

One night she brought Mick with her. I was floored! Here was Mick nearly all grown up!

It seems she had been living with her Grandmother and was doing well. She had grown up so pretty. Mick remained a member of our family for as long as I had that family.

She later had a little boy and I was his Grandma. Emery and I both loved Mick as if she was our own. Also, I was crazy in love with my Grandson. I loved being his Grandma!

That one night took it all away.

So instead of me putting it off as usual, let’s get right into it and be done with it.

I worked at SEIBC drawing blood. I also ran a photography studio out of my home property that was just getting started. One night, while I was out working at a blood draw at Iowa State University, my Son, Shaun had come into our office at SEIBC and according to the receptionist, my son had been bleeding a bit and he told her that he would wait for me out in the parking lot.

(See? A witness! I made it a point to get several)

I finished unloading the truck and putting everything away and gathered my things then went out the door.

It was a dark night and at first I didn’t see the car parked next to mine in the lot.

Then Shaun stepped out of the car and my heart nearly stopped. He wasn’t just bleeding, he was SOAKED nearly to his waist! His face looked broken and misshapen and I was close to losing my shit. I asked him what happened and he told me that he and his Dad had gotten into an argument; I don’t remember what it was about; and his Dad hit him.

I asked him where his sister was while all of this was going on and he told me that Sammy had been right there and saw everything.

I asked him if she tried to stop her Dad and Shaun said no. Good.

Ok, wtf was I going to do now? My heart and blood turned to ice. If this was true; I knew what it meant.

Everything was ruined now… If what Shaun was saying was true, my life, as I knew it, was over. My mind was racing the entire drive home.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t lose everything!

What about Sammy? Can I save this? I had to do something because if I didn’t, we could lose BOTH OF OUR CHILDREN TO DEPT. OF HUMAN SERVICES FOR CHILD ABUSE!!!

How did I know this? Besides being a “state kid” I had spent the prior years providing foster care for the State of Iowa.

Bet NOBODY took that possible end result into consideration when deeming me THE BAD GUY. DIDJA? Bet not.

Mhm, but I’m the only one at fault enough to pay for this with my life. Thanks guys.

Shaun was following me in our other car and I made sure that I could see his headlights the entire time just in case he had a concussion.

When we got home, I stood out in the driveway under the street light to get a better look at Shaun’s injuries.

Around his eye socket was bruised and swollen and shaped oddly, as was his lips, nose and his jaw and the swelling went all the way back to his left ear.

Just seeing him like that; Emery was fortunate that I didn’t carry a loaded gun because that night, love or not, after seeing my son like that; I wouldn’t have asked any questions, I would have ended him on sight, without a second thought.

Instead, I went into the house and saw Samantha sitting in a chair in the living room.

I asked her what had happened and she gave me this look that I know all to well. Not ever from my little girl though! It’s a look I recognize from mom! It’s a sneering look like she knows some nasty secret and even though it makes her feel sick she holds onto it.

BTDubs, it doesn’t justify a damned thing. It never has.

My Daughter was really just a babe at 14 but this lesson was hers that night.

The choices made from this moment forward would all have to be her own.

So, here’s your very own reckoning; my precious Daughter.

I love you.

Sammy put on a tiny smug smile, looked down at her hands and said, “I didn’t see anything” I am not even joking!

To be fair; her smile may have just been a case of nerves and in my crazed state I may have read way too much into that.

Earlier, Shaun had told me that the first time his dad threw hands at him they were in the hallway and his dad’s fist punched a hole in the wall.

I brushed past Sammy’s chair and stepped into the hallway and sure enough Grape Ape put a huge hole in the wall.

I returned to the living room and looked down at my Daughter who was NEVER one to lie.

I said to her, “So you sat not 10 feet away while your Dad was yelling at your brother and punching a hole in the wall and you heard nothing?”

My darling little girl, whom I love more than my own life, looks right into my eyes and says to me, “That’s right.” just as straight-faced as the world’s best poker players!

I was now numb and speechless. What the hell was happening? Who were these people dressed up like my family?

I heard the front door opening and I was reaching into my bag as I was turning around. The moment I saw Emery’s face; I told him to get out and I pulled out my tear gas spray and soaked his face with it as I shoved him backward out the front door.

As soon as the door was closed, I locked it.

I knew he would be busy for at least twenty minutes because that wasn’t pepper spray, it was police issue tear gas spray. By SABER. Em got it for me from a cop friend because the kids and I were alone every night out in the tiny country town.

I turned back to my kids and walked back over to them.  I asked Sammy why she would lie to me. I told her that this wasn’t like her at all and she just said to me, “I don’t know what to tell you mom; I didn’t see or hear anything.”

Where the hell are we? Detroit??? Nobody sees anything? Nobody hears anything? From 10 feet away? Really?

So either Emery had already coached her or she took it upon herself, to lie to me. Either way; her lie, by itself, told me, that even she knew how bad this situation was.

Oddly enough though; not one MF ever gave a single thought about the position this all put me in!

NOT ONE PERSON. Not Em, Mick, Sammy, or Shaun. NOT ONE!!

Not even my own parents or siblings after the fact!

Now, I knew that I was going to have to set a lit match to the life I loved so much.

Emery had put me in an impossible position, where I had to choose between him and my Son. There’s no choice. That’s exactly what Em promised to never do.

FUCK!!! Man! All I wanted to do was go to work, ya know? Make some extra money, use it to do stuff with my family and this BS gets dropped into my lap.

Now at this time, I was working at the Blood Center, and had just opened a photography studio, and I had been raising foster kids for the 7 years prior. I had decided to stop doing foster care because it was starting to take a toll on me and Em had very little to do with raising the kids other than fun times lol. So, Em had gone out and got a foster kid without even talking to me about it!

She was a very nice girl, who was brought to our home at a seriously inappropriate time.

To her, I deeply apologize. You did nothing to deserve the world you were brought into. I was trying, all by my damned self, to not bring anyone into that mess.

I was trying to find a sane way out!

Turns out, that’s another Disney fable as there is no sane way out. I really didn’t need more on my plate just then.

Yes, I am bitter and justifiably so; but I think public safety is fine so long as I can still laugh.

Judge all you want, my little desperation flavored haters; but before you do, let me just inform you of one quick little thing.

Your arrogant, jealous asses could never have survived the life I’ve lived. You would have been EATEN ALIVE! Fact.

Judge away! I will see your shattered glass house and, raise you one bullet to my worthless damned head.

I would have rather died that night; than live with the life I loved just beyond my reach. Not to mention being forced to watch some other woman living it? Being loved in it?

Oh no.

No I couldn’t possibly. I would have killed myself or someone else. I know me that well.

I couldn’t even be in a position where I might accidentally hear about it.

At some point, Emery had started pounding on the door and whining/crying to be let back in. Shaun was the one who told me to let him in; so I did.

I told Emery that I needed honesty right then and if he could just give that to me, I was sure that we could find a sat him down on the couch and asked him, what had happened there.

This man, whom I loved more than my own life, looked right into my eyes and said to me; “I don’t remember.” “Shaun must have done that to himself.”

Fuck. Understanding that our life together was on the line. Knowing that he was holding the fate of our family in his hands; he CHOSE to lie to me.

I was seeing nothing to indicate that he was in any type of diabetic or any other medical stress. I have worked medical all of my adult life so if this were truly a medical issue I do believe I would have been able to see it.

So why? He had to know, I would know he was lying; so why? He refused to say. Nobody knew me better than Emery and he knew I despise a liar yet chose to be just that.

My world was spinning out of control and I couldn’t stop it. Why won’t they help me save us? I’m drowning. That moment.

That was the moment I knew I had lost my world.

Everything I knew and loved was there.

When Emery and I first got together, if you recall, I promised not to take his Daughter away from him and it was EASY for me to make that promise. (I was supposed to be with him FOREVER!).

My Dad once told a judge that I was many things, but I have never been a liar. I love that he knows that about me! Everybody knew that about me until this night; then they all forgot. If I make a promise, it would take something profoundly big for me to not keep it.

So, at this time, here is what I now have to work with.

I have a bloodied-up Son, a deaf/mute Daughter, and a husband with fake amnesia.

Did you see any place here that states that I asked for any of this shit? No? Do you see a way of fixing or saving this that I am missing?

Then how the hell is ANY of this shit my fault? The biggest question was, do you see anything to work with here?

Best question; why was I blamed for protecting my Son and respecting my Daughter’s wishes? I mean what kind of terrible Mother would EVER respect the wishes of their child? Never mind try to protect them!

THAT BITCH!! lol so ridiculous…

Mhm, Fuck that.

Ya know what Pally, I didn’t think it was my fault either. Hugs!

You have all done wrong by me and you all know it.

Every last one of you. Family, friends. Every single one. Regardless; I am a safety girl, so the very next day, I sent Shaun to school looking like something that was accidentally left overnight in an automatic meat grinder.

I needed him to be seen by people of authority and I knew Shaun’s principal, Tom Davis, personally as he had also been my principal at one time.

I was more than a little bit shocked when the whole day went by and no visit from Human Services. So, Emery and I paid him a visit to explain Shaun’s appearance even though he had already seen my kid looking like that and didn’t even call me; or anyone else, as it would turn out.

That sucked because I was sort of counting on them to start this ball rolling for me.

So, that didn’t work, now WTF am I going to do? I needed to give this some thought.

The next morning I called Mick and she made it very clear that Emery had already been there and erased her memory of who I was and of everything I’d ever done for her and her baby.

I never thought I came off as ‘The Bad Guy’ but I must have because no matter how much I try to help people and to be kind, first thing goes wrong, I get thrown out with the bath water.

Alone.

So completely alone in this fresh new hell that I never asked for and I have to find a way to the other side all by myself so that’s super fun. NOT.

The next day, I hauled Magilla’s big ass into the emergency room in Ottumwa.

Basically, I had no idea what to do and I was attempting to line up as many professional people to hear and see what had happened because the world I had always lived in prior to Emery was still deeply ingrained in me.

I didn’t want to go back there. Not that time before him. There was nothing there!

This meant that no matter what happens. No matter who is responsible. I am always the piece of shit for it.

No, you ding-bat! This isn’t me being all Emo. It really is just a simple fact that I have worked hard to accept.

So, I told the ER doc everything and, predictably, Emery pulled out the amnesia card.

Both the ER doc and nurse said that yes it could happen that low blood sugar could cause loss of memory if it were severe.

They took his and it was perfectly fine on a 12-hour fast. :) They both also said that the type of activity I was describing was pretty unlikely during a high or low insulin attack but the hazy memory thing could be possible.

I explained to them that it wasn’t a hazy memory and that he was claiming zero memory of having beat our Son to a bloody puddle.

The ER doc and nurse briefly glanced at each other and the ER doc quickly said, well it could be different for each person.

Then a flurry of activity and they both hurry out the door and we are left sitting there.

I remember thinking to myself, what the hell happened to mandatory reporting here? I send my son to school, I get nothing.

I tell two medical professionals, that a full-grown gorilla attacked my16 year old Son and again, nothing!

Ok, I get it….FU2 Universe!

Fine! I will handle it by myself. It’s not as if I’m not used to doing that. So I did.

I think I used at least one roll of film to get pictures of Shaun’s injuries. I still have it somewhere but never developed it because even thinking about that night still makes me feel like I might vomit.

After I’m dead; knock yourself out go ahead, and enjoy your wrongness, lol. Feel free to wallow in it if you like!

I moved Shaun next door to our house, into the photography studio that Emery and I built out of a garage. Knowing my Dad and family as I do.

There was no place for me to turn. To make it all so much harder, this time when I start over, I will be dragging my Son with me!

This is uncharted territory for me. I wasn’t young anymore; so this all sucked on multiple levels.

I wonder; did anyone ever think about that? You know what I mean? Were they all like, “Wow, I don’t know how Shaney is ever going to get through this. I wonder if they are okay. I wonder if they need help.”

Yeah, I didn’t think so. Help was given to everyone except for me and my son.

So, I would be all he had. I was hoping that I would be enough.

Those of you hanging your heads right now; go stand in the corner because you deserve at least a time-out because you are correct in your shame.

You damn well should be ashamed of yourselves! You know I did everything for you. Cared for you and never let you do without anything ever!

Whether I gave birth to you or not; I mothered you and I loved you and damn you, I love you still!

Nothing I have ever done, has given me value to anyone I have ever loved. My value has always been 0 sooner or later and I am fed the fluff up lol.

There I was, wracking my brains trying to think of a way to do this.

I went online and started reading stories of women who had to start over from scratch with kids. To see how they did it.

Nope. No shelters for us. There has to be a way!

Then I start thinking about these games that Sammy and I played online.

(Internet was new and had only just been offered in our area)

Stop laughing! Ha-ha! Habbo Hotel, and Neopets.

I started thinking about all of the people on these games from all around the world. Hundreds of thousands of people. I started looking for help there.

I was so desperate that I looked into this weird place, I knew nothing about, trying to meet strangers in the hopes that one of them might help me.

Think about it. Where was I supposed to go?

Nobody that I knew was going to help me. So, I met new people who would.

I knew this would be hard, because in person, it’s easier to flirt when they can see you.

Early internet, and me being stupid lol; it took me forever to learn how to use a webcam. Dial-up was a huge pain.

Stop laughing and go ask your parents or grandparents what dial-up was! lmao!

Anyway, I found this game called CyberTown; I think it was. Found me a hoser, flashed my boobs and bob’s yer uncle!

I had been trying like hell to give Emery the benefit of the doubt but he was making it impossible!

The reason I insisted on the truth from Emery is because my son has had numerous behavior disorders and one of the things that my son did was lie. A lot.

I actually hoped that Shaun was lying!

However, his injuries were significant enough that there was no way in hell I could stay without answers.

I know me! I would eventually resent the hell out of Emery and we would wind up losing what we had regardless!

This was, Pally, for me, a lose-lose situation.

I suppose I must have deserved it because it was happening regardless.

CHAPTER 36: OUR BABIES

A bit about our kids

Good morning, Pally!

I am uncertain about our subject for today. I am feeling sluggish, so I will revisit you after I have some coffee.

Our kids. Shaun and Sammy Jo.

Starting with Shaun because he is the oldest. Before my son started kindergarten, he could add and subtract and was starting multiplication. He was also already learning how to read and already knew his numbers and letters. He also knew how to cook in the microwave!

He was my baby. He is precious to me. I wasn’t always sure that I was cut out for the mom thing, and I’m positive that I messed up a lot, but when it came to my kids, saying ‘I love you’ wasn’t optional. The one constant in their lives, while I was raising them, was that they always knew I loved them. Every phone call ended with ‘I love you.’

Every goodnight kiss. Every single day, I told them. It didn’t work, though. They both forgot. That’s ok because I never will. I will remember for all of us.

Today is overcast and gloomy, and that always seems to affect my mood. I mean, I’m good, ya know? But still, there are days when the past taunts the hell out of me, and this is one of those days.

Memories swirling and spinning. Swallowing me. Whispering in my ears, then flitting away before I can catch them. Sometimes it gets so overwhelming that it takes my breath away. I wonder who or what I will be after I get all of this out of me. That’s kind of scary.

It isn’t as if I have the best luck at anything, really. What if I dump all of this toxic garbage out of me and it turns out, that was all that was holding me together? That doesn’t sound like fun at all.

What if there is nothing left of me when it’s all over? What if I rid myself of all of this garbage and even then, I am unable to figure out who or what I am? Or worse yet, I do this only to find out that under it all, I am nothing? Nobody?

I know that I will most likely have ZERO family after this, but I’ve accepted that. It really wouldn’t be a devastating thing as that’s how it’s mostly been anyway so no loss there.

But who is the me that I will have left over? Lmao! I will be my own leftovers! Hahahaha!

These are the kinds of thoughts that swirl all around me all the time that I am writing here.

Well; tough shit, Shaney! These flood gates are never going to be able to close again.

Nope, not now that Helen has been found. That has changed everything for me. I don’t have to hold it all in anymore.

I am ill-inspired today, and for that, I must apologize. I have so much that I need to get done around my house here, and I feel guilty sitting at this desk.

OMG, the empathy guy was right! There is this guy on YouTube who says that empaths are really people who have suffered a childhood trauma and have turned into “people pleasers.” I don’t think I can get on board with that. I don’t even LIKE people! I sure as hell don’t understand them!

I have zero friends. On purpose. I don’t go visiting anyone. I hate it when people visit me. If I do have to socialize, I am mentally and even physically exhausted for several days after.

I have difficulty seeing myself as a people pleaser. Feeling guilty for taking care of my mental health? FFS! He was right…omfgawd. I am pitiful. So pathetic.

Emery & Shaun

Shaun had been diagnosed with ADHD, Tourette’s Syndrome, and I think ODD. I thought he was perfect as long as I never asked him to do anything for me by himself.

he was doing a task with someone else, I always had better luck. Overall Shaun was always a good kid that did stupid shit. His heart is so huge and he is so generous with monetary things. But he lies all the time. He always has, and It’s pretty constant, but in the last 15 years or so; he lies about literally everything. Even things that don’t matter at all.

I blame the concussion (He once fell out of a tree onto his head and was concussed) and that might be me, making excuses for him because that has always been my M.O.

Prime example of me hanging myself by believing my son, right here. One time, Shaun came home from school and, lied to me and his dad, saying that his school bus driver had pushed him down in his seat and told the oldest kids on the bus to keep him under control however they had to. Well, this Mama bear raised her big, dumb head and got pulled right in.

Then she pulled Papa bear right in with her! You better know that Emery and I walked into that school ready to go to WAR! We were just about 3 minutes early for our meeting in the school counselor’s office, but saw the driver and counselor were already in there, so we went in.

The counselor excused herself saying she was going to find the others and she left the room. That’s when Shaun’s amazing dad, picked up that bus driver with one hand around the man’s throat, and that dude’s feet were dangling in the air as Em backed him up against the office wall! Lmao, I loved when he did stuff like that! It wasn’t often, but I loved it! I had just turned, to close and lock the office door when the Principal and Counselor walked in with the Sheriff’s Deputy right behind her. Whoopsie! Caught in the act! Eek! . I quickly nudged Em, who immediately dropped the driver to the floor.

Then, this grizzly bear guy I married, stood there trying to look innocent; like he had no idea how that bus driver ended up on the floor like that!

Now, I am here to testify, Pally, ladies and gentlemen, that I have never, in all my many long years, ever seen a more guilty-looking Yeti. My heart and soul; just stood there, pumped full of adrenaline and caffeine, panting like a bull in Barcelona, running for its life; yet trying to appear innocent and casual, fussing with his clothing and smoothing his slightly damp, long biker hair and enormous beard.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to work, LMAO! GUILTY!! More so after we found out that Shaun had admitted to school staff that he had been lying to us.

Shaun said that he lied because he didn’t like the bus driver. The bus driver was mean to him and didn’t do anything when Shaun would tell on the older kids for hitting him.

Oh well, shit…….

Um, excuse me! Pardon me Your Honor, If I could approach the bench, your Honor?

Um, so like, we didn’t know our son was lying and we just love him so , ya know?

Is this working for anyone? No?

Okay, you got me.

All of my favorite males are bonkers, but I love them, and I am still me.

So, I tried to at least have the bus driver held accountable for that much.

lol Oh yes, I did. I just plowed forward like that ‘feet all dangly in the air’ thing never even happened! From where I was sitting, that was a “they” issue, and I was here for a “Shaun” issue. I would tackle “they” afterward. lol.

I would, that is, if I could figure out how to get past Shaun’s father sitting there looking like ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest straight into the Attica shower room!’

Em; attempting to look innocent was so ridiculous, I swear, lol, Emery couldn’t fake ANYTHING convincingly! Worst liar EVER! Except when playing cards. That guy could bluff you right out of your house, car, and vacation home before you knew what hit you. He wasn’t charged on that day, lol, mostly because to know Em was to love him. Mostly, lol.

He was beyond personable. I only know of two people on the entire planet, who didn’t like Emery, and that would be Dora and her ex-boyfriend Boots.

Boots was a weird one. He was like, half of a cartographer because he could only read maps not make them, He must have sucked at it because Boots led Dora down some dark roads that I didn’t even know existed!

Also he always struck me as being completely lost. But he was obsessed with that stupid map. Also, he was a complete control freak with Dora. Always making her carry his backpack in public and that stupid map in public.

Also, he was always disappearing for long periods of time with no explanation at all! Now Pally, you know that normally I’m not one to spread gossip but I think he was getting his swerve on with this fox named Swiper, behind Dora’s back. Not to mention, the time he had that fling with the blue bull Benny, when they first got together! If I had been Dora?

Pally, I would have loaded my ass up on the big red chicken and left Boots in my dust. At the very least, I would have offered the big red chicken to the grumpy old troll to beat the snot out of Boots! But that’s how I roll.

Dora thought it was love! Me and Isa? We knew better. Boots is a ho! Lololololol

So, the situation is this: my husband sucks at lying, and he beat the brakes off our boy while our daughter sat on watching and/or listening. To be clear, I never expected her to get involved in the confrontation.

I DID expect her to tell me the truth, and I wanted badly to make sure that she was okay, but I couldn’t get near her! It was as if she wanted to get away from me, but I needed her help. And if she couldn’t help me get to the bottom of this, well, maybe there was some explanation that I hadn’t thought of. Maybe there was something she could tell me, that would save us!

I just NEEDED something to work with. If I could get that much, maybe I could save my family from obliterating. My husband was the one being accused, so naturally, I assumed that my adult husband would help clear this up.

Maybe I assume too much. So, all of this occurred around 2002/2003, and to this very moment, I still have NO CLUE what happened that night.

I only have Shaun’s story to work with, even though I tried so damned hard to hear a better one; this is the story they stuck me with. They didn’t even try to keep me. I wasn’t even worth the effort of trying to fix their mess just to keep me. Not even my daughter; and I think that broke my heart the most. They just let me go like I had never been worth anything.

They let me fall away like an autumn leaf dropped into a stream. Lol, like Pooh-Sticks! Ha-Ha! Yep; I’m sane.

Holy cow! Look how far I’ve gotten! Okay, now I’m rolling! Let’s get through this today, Pally!

I told you, Pally, it’s hard, but if you could be patient with me, I am very good at doing all of the hardest things and mostly surviving, in case you haven’t picked up on that.

I am going to take a break now that the sun is up and maybe give some thought to where we are going to go with this next. BRB! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let’s take a crack at this mess.

CHAPTER 37: THE INTERNET

The internet. Finding actual help from people online, when you honestly need it isn’t as hard as you might think. Sure, there are always going to be pervs looking to get their shakes at the cost of some poor unsuspecting woman. Fortunately for me; I have never been that woman. On days when I find myself a victim of anything, it’s my own fault for letting my guard down or not paying enough attention. Not something that I do easily. I met a Canadian guy on Cyber Town named Rob. Rob offered to put me and my family up for a week or two if we wanted to come visit. I asked Emery to come with me.

I was thinking maybe if we ALL had some time away, things would loosen up and maybe we could get to the bottom of that night, get some counseling or something, and we would all be okay. Of course, that would be too easy. Emery flat-out said no, and right after that, Sammy informed me that she wouldn’t go with me either.

I am trying to save my damned family, and they keep shooting me down! WTF is going on here??? It was as if I didn’t even know these two people! So, that was when I fully understood that, I couldn’t save us if I was the only one willing to work to save us. So, I said fuck it. I wasn’t having much luck with domestic models, so I figured maybe on the internet, I could find a reliable foreign model with low miles. I got online, showed my boobs and got ‘Instahelp’ (I think someone already has that TM) Because one thing that has been a 100% certainty throughout the entirety of history is that SEX SELLS. Flash my boobs to a foreigner in order to house my kid? Besides, it’s not like they do me any good in my bra just hanging around doing nothing. So, hell yes! Done and done!

When Shaun and I went for that visit, I was depressed the entire time because I knew that when I went back home, I still wouldn’t know what was going on. I also knew that while Sammy had Mick, Emery, my family, and his family, to count on;

Shaun only had me. Just me. Nobody even considered that. Once Mick turned on me, I knew Shaun and I were alone. I knew this because, other than Emery, Mick had been my best friend for decades. I thought. No benefit of the doubt. No asking herself if Emery was lying to her or only telling her part of it. No question that I had somehow done something horrible. I guess Em must have forgotten to tell her about the beating he gave to our son. You know, Mick never even asked me my side of anything. What she did do though, was point out the market street bridge to me, in front of Bob, and asked me if I remembered living under there.

Wtf was the purpose behind that BS? Did you think I was lying? You smug….let me clear that shit up for you.

IS THERE ANYBODY STILL ALIVE IN OTTUMWA IOWA WHO CAN REMEMBER WHEN SHANEY JACKSON LIVED UNDER THE MARKET STREET BRIDGE IN THE 1980’S? IF SO, PLEASE POST THIS INFO ON FACEBOOK AND TAG #MADETOBEBROKEN.

Then my little pooky girl, you can put that silly little Idontknowfuckabouttheladywholovedmelikeherown, attitude away and, go have some milk and cookies.

The grown up is trying to talk to her pally.

I was just blackballed by her and my daughter right out of the gate, and I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!

To make matters worse; now my son would be alone just like I had been…. Shaun, being able to grow up with at least his mom, I knew, would be of little consequence in the long run but all choices have been taken from me. Shaun was 16, and that’s a rough hormone age; where the worst decisions are often made, so I knew he was going to have his hands full with all that as would I. I was going to have my hands full starting over with nothing but $300 and a car because I signed everything over to Emery and Sammy. That way, I would at least know that they were taken care of, and I could concentrate on Shaun and me. Emery was older than me and his health was waning more each year.

Sammy had never really ever been in trouble, she was not going to be one who would survive homelessness without scars. I was so scared, and I tried so hard not to show it. We were going to need help, so much help, and I have never been much good at asking for that.

Even when I had someone I could ask. It was time for me to buck up and walk it off because I was staring down the barrel of homelessness with my son as far away as possible. Why so far away? Because I am a coward. Seeing my daughter raised by someone else? I’m sorry, no. Seeing my husband married to someone else? I’m sorry, no. Seeing someone else living the life that I loved with the people who used to love me and whom I still loved?

Why is this so hard to understand? I didn’t throw anything or anyone away. It was ALL taken from me. Stolen. While I was at work. Do you hate me now too, Pally? Do you blame me? Was I wrong? Did I try to protect everyone in the wrong way? WHAT HAPPENED??? I can’t stop crying. I’m not even joking. What happened that night? Why did I have to lose everything? I still don’t understand.

I knew Em better than anyone ever has, and he was never a liar. But he didn’t even try to keep me. He just lied! I knew Sammy better than anyone ever had, and she was NEVER a liar. She didn’t even try to keep me. She lied! Do they know what that did to me? Did they care? But the way they were acting was like aliens came into my home and replaced my husband and daughter with jacked-up clones while I was at work! It was a shit situation that I didn’t see coming, and I was not prepared, so I couldn’t see a clear way through it. And who the hell did I have to ask for advice? WHO? Nobody. Should I have sought help from the same people who have been there my whole life, being kind, supportive, protective and loving? And who might they be? NOBODY. So I did the best I could with whatever I had to work with.

SECOND TRIP TO CANADA The second time that I went to Canada, I didn’t take Shaun with me. Emery was now offering to join me on this trip. I told him I had to ask him something first, and it was the last time I would ever ask. He agreed, and I looked at this face that I loved and those hazel eyes I so often got lost in, and I asked him, “What really happened the night Shaun was hurt? I need the truth.” My heart shriveled up and dropped as cold dead ashes at my feet as I watched Emery lower his eyes to look at his hands as he said quietly, “I told you; I don’t remember. Maybe he did that to himself.” That sealed the deal.

My heart died. I loved him, but he wasn’t my Em anymore. This Em purposely turned my only daughter against me. He beat my son bloody. He lied to me and still was! He had set my world on fire like it was nothing. WHY??? Shaun had made plans with his friends and had also gotten permission to stay with them while I was away. I went back to Canada, at that time to look at the job and housing market. When I came back to Iowa this time, everything was absolutely shit there. Shit like this never turns out well no matter how hard I try. It never mattered which choices I made, and I knew this. It was all going to blow up in my face because that is the nature of this beast. Besides, this just had to happen at my teenagers’ rebellious ages too; yay to me! Sammy was 14, and Shaun was 16. MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER Before I left for the last time, I was able to get Sammy alone in the car with me. We were going to Eddyville to get gas for our last trip.

Just as we were about to get into the car, Sammy looked over the top of the car at me and said, “You won’t talk me into changing my mind. I won’t go with you.” I paused for a moment and just took in her face. I have never seen a more beautiful face in my life. I told her, “I’m hoping you can give me a reason to change MY mind.” She was my Angel Baby. My precious baby girl. Oh god…... She was the little girl who couldn’t go 8 hours at school without calling her mom at work. The school had to set up a place for her to be able to go call me when she needed to. She and I did everything together just like Shaun and I did. I tried very hard not to treat them differently, but that wasn’t easy because Shaun could be a tremendous pain in the ass all the time, and Sammy was pretty much the perfect child. My biggest regret throughout ALL of this is that I wish I had the right words that day. The right plan or idea that could save us. I really hate me. I wish I had given her so much more one-on-one attention. I did try, though.

We had Little Mermaid time. We had ‘Mom & Shaun Days’ and ‘Mom & Sammy Days.’ On these days, I would take the kid of the day, and we would often go to the drugstore in Ottumwa and sit at the soda counter and have a freshly made Cherry Coke. They seemed to always have a good time. Afterward, we would sometimes stop and pick up some lunch for everyone before going home. Looking back, I’m afraid that Shaun took up so much of our attention with his behaviors and medications and doctor’s appointments; I’m sure Sammy didn’t get nearly enough attention, and I do regret that because she was always such a good girl.

This would be our fault, not Shaun’s, not Sammy’s. My fault and Emery’s fault. We could have and probably should have been better about dividing attention. On the flip side of that coin, Shaun did pay a price for that attention. While he was getting his ass beat by us for his behaviors, Sammy never really got into any sort of trouble, so she didn’t require the constant attention and harsher than it should have been correction we gave to Shaun. (Yes, looking back, we were entirely too heavy-handed with Shaun, and I own that regret and will drag that one to my grave with me as well. Shaun, I am so sorry.

I know I told you I was sorry before, but there is no saying it enough. I love you. I always have and I always will. That never changes, not in this life or any other.) Still, I’ll bet Sammy felt lonely and couldn’t see that while she was lonely, her brother was in trouble and crying again and maybe he was lonely as well. During that ride to the gas station in Eddyville and back, neither of us said a single word. There were none. I had decided. I would pay. I would respect her choices; just in case it’s the last gift I can give to her. I raised my kids to have a say in their lives. I wanted them to think for themselves and to never be afraid to talk to me about anything, and for the most part, I believe that we did have that kind of relationship. I also raised my kids to know that, to me, their thoughts and feelings mattered and would be respected.

How could I not respect her choices right now? She was 14, not a baby. She was highly intelligent and well-read. Our daughter, at 14, was perfectly capable of making this decision with her life. Who would I be if I didn’t respect this decision? I would be a parent only considering my own feelings, not hers and I didn’t want to be that Mom. I could have thrown a fit and made her go with me, but that would have been what I wanted, not what she was telling me, that SHE wanted. It couldn’t have been an easy choice for her to make, so there was no way that I was going to raise her to think for herself until it was inconvenient for me. No. I’m never going to be that woman. I respect my kids when they are making a decision and it seems that they have given it considerable thought. It doesn’t matter if I think they are right or wrong.

I can offer my opinion as long as I do my best to make it very clear that the final decision is theirs and that I support them no matter what they decide to do. Even if it hurts me. They think it through. They decide. They pay. That’s real life. So as we were getting out of the car, I looked over the roof at my gorgeous daughter and I told her, “I love you.” She said, “I love you too.” Then she walked away. That was the last time I laid my eyes on my daughter. I have always loved you, Sammy, and I always will. That never changes, not in this life or any other. Okay, I need to be done now. Ok? Yes. I’m done.

See you tomorrow, Pally. I WILL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD This part is a complete shit show, and keeping my emotions out of it is not going to be easy or honest, so I’m not going to try. Pally, today you are getting “The Full Monty!” Shaney, uncut and uncensored! Woop-Woop!

WARNING: THIS SECTION IS NOT MEANT FOR UNDERAGE INDIVIDUALS OR THOSE WITH SERIOUS HEART CONDITIONS. IF THIS SOUNDS LIKE YOU, OR SOMEONE YOU CARE ABOUT, PLEASE CLOSE YOUR BOOK AND CONTACT YOUR BFF IMMEDIATELY TO FILL YOU IN ON WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN THIS SECTION. STUDIES HAVE SHOWN THE AFTER EFFECTS TO BE DECREASED SIGNIFICANTLY IF THE INFORMATION IS SECOND HAND.

When I returned from Canada this time, everything was as expected. Emery had not only filed for divorce while I was away, but he was claiming to have killed my dog as well. Joey was a black and white Mastiff-Boxer mix, and he was my best buddy. I took him everywhere on the property with me. He was amazing at sniffing out morel mushrooms. Emery told me that he tied Joey up and Joey hung himself by getting tangled. So, my dog committed suicide? Dude! I was gone an entire week, and that’s the best you could come up with? Really??? Ok.

Hey! Remember that one time I told you that Emery was a terrible liar? Yes, he was. He didn’t kill my damn dog. What a stupid thing to take credit for. I mean seriously, what are men thinking when they say stupid shit like that? Sure, that will make me stay.

Anyway, Joey came from my cousin Gary, and he was Em’s BFF, so my guess is that Em sent him back there. Childish nonsense… The divorce thing was legit, though, and the next thing I knew, Samantha wasn’t speaking to me at all anymore, and Emery was taking her with him to work or dropping her off someplace because she wasn’t staying home.

He had successfully turned me into a villain and a possible kidnapper now? Seriously? Did I act like I was going to pull off a kidnapping? Drama much? You all just suck and I truly hope you all understand what it was THAT YOU DESTROYED!!!!!!!

Still, I hope you never have to go through anything like that or feel the way I do. Emery told me that I needed to meet him at the lawyer’s office the next day. See what I mean? Shit show, and although I have yet to do a fucking thing wrong, I am still a piece of garbage! I’m not joking, if I could only figure out a way to use this power for good, it could be a real superpower! That’s right, ladies and gents! She’s a human lightning rod for random BS! Right here, folks! Step right up!

Now, let me break down the current situation as it is, at this point.

1. I went to work.

2. My husband beat my son bloody in the presence of my daughter, and then he got amnesia, and she became blind and deaf with a similar case of amnesia.

3. So I sent this injured boy to school and consulted physicians, yet nobody called in abuse charges.

4. Then I started looking online for a way to get my son and me out of this mess that I had NOTHING to do with; and I am “The Bad Guy.” Conclusion: Utter confusion.

Could someone explain this SHIT to me, please? I hate math, and because I hate math, I avoid it like the plague, and I am admittedly not good at it; but nothing here adds up for me.

What am I missing here? ANYONE? Anyone? No? I must be blind because I run this scenario through my mind daily, every single freaking day, and I still cannot find the answer!!! I’ve done nothing wrong. Yet I have lost my family, and somehow it’s my fault.

The worst part is that I have lost my entire family, and NOBODY other than Shaun will even try to tell me why or how that happened! The only answers I ever got were, “I don’t remember,” “He must have done that to himself,” and “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

Monkeys; hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. That’s the picture I always see in my mind whenever I think of their answers. Freaking monkeys.

Maybe a full Monty isn’t the best call, Pally. I just had the strongest urge to slam this brand new laptop against the wall and just RAGE! Also, if I type any harder, I am going to trash this keyboard. Much fluffiness is needed right now, I do believe. I will return, once maximum fluffiness has been achieved. XOXOXOXO!

Almost there, Pally; don’t give up on me yet! At this point, my neighbors, neighbors, should be fluffy! Lmao! I just turned my entire office into a hot box! Let’s rock.

Emery and I met at the lawyer’s office at the scheduled time. Here is the soon to be patented, “Wow, I didn’t know that” moment.

Believe me; none of you know a damn thing about anything to do with my world.

At the lawyer’s office, I was handed $500.00 and told to sign my parental rights away. I hate being bullied. I really do. In my world; the world I created for myself; if you bully me, I start getting creative. Nobody wants me to get creative. Trust. So, I started thinking that if it was my parental rights Emery wanted, I would sell them to him. I knew they couldn’t force me to give them up; but I could force him to pay for them.

Emery doesn’t function well when he’s wounded. Never has. This gave me concern about him being able to be there for Sammy. Emotionally or any other way. There wasn’t much I could do with the half of a card I had left to play; but I could take care of my baby financially.

The only way I would sign away my rights was if he kept his life insurance policy payout at a bare minimum of $250,000, but I preferred it be set at $500,000 to $1000,000. I would leave which amount to him so it wouldn’t interfere with their weekly living income. He was required to keep Sammy as the sole beneficiary. That way, I would know that our daughter would always be taken care of.

All of this arranged the night before we met for this signing. He didn’t have to keep me or Shaun on the policy, but if Sammy wasn’t going to be sharing the inheritance with her brother, she shouldn’t have to share with anybody, so he wasn’t allowed to add anyone else to that policy.

That was my decision and it was non-negotiable.

Emery stood there looking at me kind of dumbfounded for a minute, then asked me, “How will you know if I cancel it or change the amount?” I smiled deadly, like I do, and recited his social security number for them, and that seemed to do the trick. He wrote down the number to the insurance company so I could call the automated system whenever I chose, to check it.

BOOM, BITCHES!

I told you guys. You know nothing. You never have. He also, after I had already left and was back in Canada, asked me if Sammy could use my name for her car insurance to make it more affordable for her, and I told him whatever she needed, she was to have. So, I made sure our daughter wouldn’t ever have to suffer like I knew that Shaun and I were going to. Not that anybody ever gave a damn.

Some people might ask why I didn’t secure Shaun’s future as well. That is a fair question. Mostly because he was going to grow up with his Mom. (I guess I’m not worth a half mil) His sister wasn’t. Also, there are too many reasons, including that Emery wouldn’t agree and I couldn’t justify giving Shaun cash since the incident destroying us had to do with Shaun and he was leaving.

Also, Shaun’s behavior issues always did include more than average lying, stealing and aggression. So I didn’t know what to believe other than I didn’t feel entitled to any money and if we were leaving, it was time for Shaun to learn how to start from scratch instead of feeling entitled.

Besides; as my Son, he could easily take out a much larger life insurance policy on me and in my mind, that would guarantee that he still has every option and advantage I made sure his sister got. I didn’t forget about him at all. I just had to deal with stuff in order. Shaun would soon be a grown man and, up to this point he’d had everything handed to him his whole life.

Don’t get me wrong he got his ass kicked plenty. A man who has always had everything handed to him and done for him; becomes a worthless man who has zero appreciation for anything or anyone, in most cases.

I wanted him to know how to fight, scrape and claw to survive so when better times came around he would, possibly, appreciate the better times by surviving the bad. That never happened but I kept being idealistic. Even today I keep hoping that he will grow up soon. He had made great strides but still doesn’t deal with other adults as a grown man would. At least never for long. The facade slips quickly with him if you are patient enough to watch for it.

Most people bail on him long before that because he is insanely controlling. So no. There was no way for me to tell if he was lying so no money for him and I didn’t want any damned money! I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find that it had all been a bad dream! Or never wake up at all.

I WANTED NOTHING TO CHANGE. I wanted to keep my life! Screw the money! My mind was spinning like a cyclone. My emotions had joined in. When this happens to me, I try to let go of my beliefs and focus on facts. Fact: Shaun came straight to me.

Fact: Shaun gave me his version of how he was badly hurt. Fact: Emery never denied anything; he only claimed ignorance. Fact: Samantha also claimed ignorance with no denial. Fact: Both Em and Sam are acting so creepy to me. Fact: Shaun’s story was panning out because the hole was in the wall like he said it would be.

Question, who do you think is hiding shit, Pally?

Another question; how would you protect your injured kid, as well as the one who doesn’t want to be with you? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?

If your sentence starts with “I would have tried”; I swear to glob I will throat punch you.

You have had time to think about it. It; being, a situation that has NO DIRECT EFFECT ON YOUR LIFE.

YOU wouldn’t have had time to try a god damned thing; now sit your crazy ass down and act like you got some damn sense.

Both of you.

All of you.

Besides, the last thing I needed was to have my ‘family’ talk about how I used Emery, or I robbed him blind or whatever the hell they wanted to think so I could be blamed. I didn’t want to add to it. So YES, goddamnit!! My husband beat my son bloody, and then I signed everything over to him and my daughter to JUST MAKE THE SHIT STOP!!! I hate that I love you guys. I really, really hate it sometimes.

Thank Glob for you Pally because right now, talking with you is the only thing keeping me writing instead of doing things much less productive and much more destructive. I am truly trying to not be a whiner but damn it! I have loved deeply.

There’s nothing I wont do for those I love! I don’t feel that love coming back to me, and I rarely ever have until Emery.

Each of you who have slammed me behind my back. Passed judgment on me. Looked down on me from your throne. Chose to help anyone except for me. Found me undeserving for whatever reason. I think that you should know something.

I do hope you are sitting down because this is really important.

You are leeches. You have no viable sense of self.

The only time that you really feel at the top of your game is when you are bleeding me, and those like me, dry.

Your instant gratification may have been your undoing, though. Maybe you really are that thick.

You feast on us like we are roadkill because after 54 freaking years you are still intimidated by a dead woman.

How exactly, does that make you better? How does that make you anything short of insecure?

Look, I’m sorry for all your insecurities but that doesn’t mean dragging us through the house and up and down stairs by our hair, wasn’t child abuse. Punching us in the face, slamming us into walls.

Ya know, all those years, I just assumed that dad knew you had been beating the hell out of us. Lol, It never occurred to me that he didn’t know anything because he worked nights. You used him as someone you could sic on us.

I see you! Uh huh, I see you really clearly right now…..

You had to know this was coming. Didn’t you?

Stfu Karen, this has nothing at all to do with you. I bled for you. Nobody dragged you around by your hair. You have no say in my life or what I have survived, because you are clueless, just like you were meant to be. Yep, now you can hate me and go fluff yourself Karen.

But know this.

Next time you step up on me; you best know WTF you are talking about because you don’t know shit. You are just attention hoin’ to feed your own insecurities. If I could survive my childhood, anybody could survive nearly anything.

BEE TEE DUBS. Judy says,’ hello everyone.’ *_~

You all blazed into my loss, for no other reason than to feast from the leftover carnage of my life. Like carrion birds. Vultures. Buzzards. Death eaters.

How do you NOT see yourselves? For decades you didn’t come see my kids. How long after I left was it? A week? Two? After decades? Do you think nobody notices? You do shit like this KNOWING how LOW it is, and that it will hurt me, yet you just don’t care.

What is it exactly, that makes you think that you are better than me or my children? Look what you have done to your own kids! How did that work out for everyone?

Tell me something, if you are so superior, tell me this. WHY DID WENDY LEAVE?

How dare you judge me for anything, ever! I love you but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments when I want nothing more that to remove your heads with my bare hands and spike them on the ground. Count yourselves lucky that I have ANY self control left.

The way you have treated me is beyond, unforgivable and unthinkable and all of you know it. Even if you are not participating in it; you watch it and you know it’s fuggin WRONG.

I AM HATED BECAUSE I AM JUDY’S DAUGHTER. I AM DADDY’S LITTLE BITCH BECAUSE HE STOOD UP FOR ME WHEN MOM WAS BEING HATEFUL TO ME. AND YOU HATE ME FOR THAT TOO.

Now I am going to give you a gift in kind. You know your horrible things. All of them. You know it was hate, jealousy and abuse. You act all smug and arrogant like you are better than me. But you forgot.

Lol, I can’t believe that you forgot! If there is any truth to the afterlife stories; that means that you may be in deeper shit than you ever realized.

My Mom.

She is only dead here. Lol Where we live in physical bodies.

Sooner, rather than later, you will be moving into my Mom’s neighborhood. I’m certain that she can’t wait to meet you.

My understanding is that Mom always did love entertaining guests.

You made this bed. It had nothing to do with me and I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you. It’s completely on you and you did this to yourself. You have no one else to blame.

Oops! I guess you were too clever to look that far ahead, huh?

Bummer.

Good luck with that! Kisses!!!!! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

I am so wanting to be done now Pally. Can’t I just be done now? I don’t know if I can live for just me. I don’t know if I want to. I’m running on empty and I’m not worth so much anymore.

Also, I really am so very tired. I’ve never been stripped down to bare soul like this before, and now there is so much less of me than there was before. I am significantly less.

Does anyone else ever feel like this? I do. I need to stop now. Ok? I’m so sorry but I just need to. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back to Em.

Anyway, in all of this, I am missing something. That night after the lawyer’s appointment, Emery came to the bed. I was planning on leaving the following night. He started off a little bit more gentle than usual. It was bittersweet for me and had me in tears within minutes. He was kind and patient. Until he wasn’t. The gentleness was replaced by fierce desperation and physical frustration as he became more and more rough. I stopped him twice, telling him that he was hurting me. I mean, we have had rough sex before, but this was completely different. The third time I tried to stop him, he just wouldn’t stop. I tried pushing him off, but that wasn’t happening. And his face! His face was so angry, but his eyes were empty looking. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like he was there, but he wasn’t. I yelled at him, and he responded by going harder, so I just shut up and let him finish. It wasn’t as if I’d never been with him before.

I had just never been with him in psycho mode before. He was still pissed off when he finished! Lol He rolled off and said, “So there!” Yep. Speechless? Yeah, I get it.

This entire basket of drunken monkeys has me feeling a bit speechless as well! But, that’s probably just me being selfish… WTF ever. I thought about the way he was, and the more I thought about it, the more it felt like, that was his way of pissing on his property before I could leave. Now I was mad… and getting more so by the minute. So, I loaded Shaun into the car the following evening and drove to the hospital to get a rape test kit done.

Originally, I was going to let it go because I love him but the more I thought about the whole owning thing the more pissed and confused I was. I also filed a police report because something was going on with Emery, and I was planning to leave my daughter with him. He needed to get help. This was how I was trying to get him professional help if he needed it because I wouldn’t be here to fix anything. Normally, it was my job to fix everything and keep shit moving smoothly.

Emery had been somewhat ‘off’ ever since John died, and I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t manic depression. I’m not going to go into explaining how he was off. Trust me, after all those years, I knew him inside and out. He had been off. I wonder how many people suffering from depression beat the shit out of one of their kids and then coach the other kid to say nothing.

Is this a common M.O. for people with depression?

That night, after finishing at the hospital, I drove over to Mick’s house to say goodbye. I’m not stupid, I knew Sammy was there.

We went inside, and Shaun was talking to Mick’s son while I was trying to have a talk with my daughter. I wanted her to know why I filed a report on her dad. I didn’t want her to hear about it and view him in a negative light. I needed to explain to her that his actions were driven by fear not malice. I didn’t want her judging her dad too harshly because more was at play here. I really believed that. I just had no idea what the hell it was! It didn’t matter though because, I never got the chance. Unfortunately, Mick decided to stop me from speaking and called the police. Even now, I wonder what threatening thing I did to warrant calling the police.

Donchya jus luuuuv when people who know nothing, feel empowered by zero factual knowledge and, make the bold choice to behave like they just bought a vowel from Vana and act on that zero knowledge?

Sure, who doesn’t?

Actually, I wonder WHERE IN HERE DO YOU SEE ME DOING ANYTHING WRONG? If I am missing it, please point it out to me. I know I am at fault for an infinite number of things, but in this?

I didn’t abandon my daughter. SHE ABANDONED ME! And, I respected her choice to do so.

HER CHOICE. NOT MINE.

My choice would have been to have my children and grandchildren watching me grow old and my kids getting mad at me for spoiling their babies! Emery sitting in a rocker next to mine. My choice would have been to keep being happy in a life I loved! That was the only choice I ever wanted. Having an actual choice, is not my lot in this life.

In this life, my kids are grown and free to live their lives as they see fit.

Did you both live to see adulthood? Are you stupid? Missing limbs or digits? Still have both eyes? Are either of you leaning toward a career in serial killing?

Yes, they did. No they aren’t. No they aren’t. Yes they do, and not as far as they have let me know. Awe, look at the good mom who did her damn job! I think I have earned a break now.

Listen to this tune. It always makes me think of Emery and my kids.

A Great Big World, Christina Aguilera – Say Something https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2U0Ivkn2Ds

CHAPTER 38: WELCOME TO MICHIGAN & CANADA!

Shaun and I landed in Port Huron, Michigan. However, I will tell you that story tomorrow because I must now go shovel dirt! Lol. See ya, Pally! As long as you aren’t poor, Port Huron can be a fantastic place to live. However, if you are poor, I want to formally welcome you to the cue drum-roll please: ‘The Armpit Of Hell!’ ™

As we pulled into town, I remember passing a large gray house on 10th Street next door to Mantis Restaurant. It kind of tugged at me a bit. I pointed it out to Shaun and I remember telling him that it would be cool to live there, and I asked him what he thought. Shaun, however, was car-sick and didn’t care where we lived so long as I stopped the car!

I had been really sick for several days before our landing there that morning. I kept coughing up something that looked like huge chunks of raw meat.

I believe that I mentioned before that sometimes I get a feeling about something. This was one of those times. I felt a pulling toward a side street and drove down it. We were two blocks from the end of the street when we saw a young couple struggling with their groceries.

Shaun never really needed cues from me. He has an instinct for the flow of an event. I pulled over next to them, and Shaun hopped right out of my convertible and started helping them unload their car.

Shaun, like Emery, has that insta-friend thing. He never even has to try; people just naturally gravitate toward him. I struck up a conversation with the girl, and then Shaun came bouncing down the stairs saying that we had been invited to stay for supper and asking if we could. I was exhausted after driving for 10 1/2 hours, so I agreed. These two didn’t have a pot to piss in, but they had a roof over their heads. I was grateful, and so was Shaun when they offered us a place to sleep for the night. That night, we all slept on sofas that were crammed into the tiny space. It was dry and warm. It was good. The next morning, the girl told me about an apartment at the end of the street.

The apartment was about the size of the kids bathroom I had left behind, but it looked dry. I went to a pawn shop, sobbing my head off, and I pawned my wedding ring for $300. This wedding ring was special because Emery had gotten our kids’ birthstones put into a new setting with the original diamond. He and the jeweler had designed this setting just for me. So it was my mother’s ring and my wedding ring. In this ring was an Alexandrite, an Amethyst, and a $10,000 3/4 carat nearly flawless, heirloom diamond!

I pawned it for $300 in the hopes of being able to get on my feet and get it back. I WAS 3 DAYS TOO LATE!!! (Disney never talks about crap luck; have you ever noticed that?) Losing this hurt deeply. Damn. It still does. I paid the deposit and rent and got the apartment/walk-in closet. I am finished for today, Pally, but you know I love you, right? Sure I do! Don’t be silly! Lol, thanks for letting me unload all this mess here. :) As if I am giving you a choice! Lolololol~~~!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am back! Good day to you Pally! Alright lets get right back at it then. The reason we went to Port Huron for our “reset” was because I had met these two Canadian guys online, and we all became friends. These two were named Rob and Bob. No, I’m not joking, lol. They were real-life friends and lived in the same town in Canada. I think Rob was divorced with two girls, and Bob was married with two boys.

Anyway, I started dating Rob, and it didn’t take long to find out that he had a fetish for young chubby girls, so I dipped out fast. I had been promised a photography job in Port Huron. It was supposed to be an exclusive position where I would be able to shoot pictures of hockey players in the NHL as well as many popular music icons.

I was told that my first sitting would have been Eddie Belfour, who was the Toronto Maple Leafs’ goalie at the time. I was told that I would have access to Eric Clapton and Wayne Gretzky. So, after securing the apartment, I got Shaun enrolled in school and went to see my new boss. I should have known better. He was just some married guy looking for some side action. So, that plan went right down the toilet.

I will say this though, he also ran a laser cutting service so if you live in Port Huron and your man was doing laser cutting on Gratiot, I think it was, around 2002/2003, you might wanna kick his ass to the curb. Me thinks he be spreading his seed through town like pavement.

Jus’ Sayin’...He did not, however, spread anything in this direction. I ended up working at McMorran Arena, where I met Brent Gretzky. Nice guy. He was more than a little bit drunk and a little flirty but nothing inappropriate.

Brent! Hey Brent!!!! Over here!

Brent, this is Pally.

Omg, DUDE! Please tell me that you burned that brown polyester suit you were wearing and that tie, wow don’t even get me started!! Lol

I remember that I had no idea who he was, and I was standing outside with my boss when he walked up all buzzed and flirty. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember telling him that his brown polyester suit made him look like a UPS driver lol!

After he walked away, my boss asked me, “Don’t you know who that is?” I replied, “Um, A UPS driver?” “No!” says my boss, “That’s Wayne Gretzky’s brother.” I then replied to my boss, “Well, if he is Gretzky’s brother, why is he working for UPS?” My boss just started laughing at me, and we went back inside.

While living up north, so many things happened. I was diagnosed with Grave’s disease, broke a vertebra, blew out a disc, had a severe lung/blood infection, radiation, and got married. I went to many music concerts and casinos. I hung out at a casino with Nazareth. I got to actually see some of the places I had traveled through while hitchhiking at night.

I LOVE CANADA. It is like a completely different world there. The first thing that struck me about Canada, when compared to the U.S., was that people there, touch each other. They hold hands, and the men still open car doors for the women but not in a weird goofy way. I know it sounds like such a simple thing, but it didn’t occur to me until I was there, that we don’t do that here in the U.S. until I saw people holding hands in Canada.

Here we don’t touch one another like they do there. Young people, old people, it didn’t matter. It’s such a simple, intimate, and endearing thing, that it touched me deeply. The people in Canada seem happy. Happy with their lives and each other. I didn’t see the anger and everyday ugliness that is too commonplace in America today. Canada felt serene to me. Calming. I could breathe and slow down my mind there. I loved sitting on the hill, overlooking Blackwell Beach, alone. The wind there is delicious, and the waves are incredible.

There were rarely other people there, but one day, I did get some great pics of this guy I saw swimming there. He had long blonde wavy hair, and before I left, he came up to talk with me. I forget his name now, but he told me he was a lawyer; I think he said in Flint or Lansing. I don’t know if that was true, but he was hawt, and I could have watched him playing in the waves all day long without complaint. Mhm, he was tasty. Bob was having marriage issues, so I started taking his boys out for ice cream or just a drive when things would get heated at home. These boys were awesome!

Canadian kids are respectful, polite and kind. I don’t know what they do differently, or maybe it’s just the different atmosphere, but kids there don’t seem stressed or downtrodden like kids here do. Maybe I’m not describing that right, but it’s just all very different, in a very good way. But these particular boys were my favorite Canadians of all!

Cor and Big D. Or as I liked to call them, Fingers McGee and Shifty LaRue. LMAO! They were thrilled because I played Pokemon and taught them how to charge their parents interest on money loans! I love these boys. Their mom and dad were having problems, and it wasn’t looking very promising at the time, so I just did what I could to keep them out of the line of fire. They were 7 (Cor) and 11 (Big D). After their mom left, the boys were really sad, and after a few days, I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I put Bob and both boys into my convertible, and we went to the local Dollar Store. I had Bob wait in the car with the boys while I ran inside to buy a map and 6 cans of Silly String.

When I came back out, both boys looked like they would rather be any place else but that car. I jumped in, left the parking lot, and drove towards the police station. When we were close, I pulled the car over and told the boys that I needed one of them to open the map and the other to open the cans of Silly String. Now, all three of these guys are looking at me like I’d lost my flipping mind! However, I think it’s because they are Canadian, all three did as I asked! Lol! Well that was new! I was liking that!

While they were busy with their tasks, I was scanning the street for our first victim. Then I saw him. Just some random guy minding his own business and walking down the street. I told my guys that I needed the map and one can. They passed them up to me, and I said, “Ok, you guys ready?” All three said, “For what?” Right about then, the victim was about to pass my car when I called out, “Excuse me, can you please help me?” and I have this open map and I’m pointing at it. The guy approaches my car, and I drop the map and unload my Silly String on him like an OG THUG! Then, I drove off like a maniac and laughing like a crazed loon! Now, I did this right near the police station, and because of this, I had the boys’ complete attention after spraying that guy and taking off! I was super naughty right by the cop-shop, and they were blown away! LOLOLOL!!

They were no longer sad; they were blown away! After driving about 6 blocks, I pulled over. The boys were in the backseat laughing their heads off! Bob, on the other hand, looked like he might puke on my floorboards or pee in my seat and couldn’t decide which it was gonna be. The very notion of police makes him feel ill. Ha-ha! I told the boys that they got to spray the next ones, and omg, I wish I had a picture of their faces! We spent the following 3 hours cruising around town, leaving behind us a trail of people covered with Silly String! Here was this ‘un-adult’ ™ telling them it was okay to be naughty.

How could they NOT love me? That just isn’t possible because I’m a fun girl and I’m cute as hell, so this is a no-brainer I even think that under different circumstances, I could have hung out with their mom. She was cool in her own way. I understand that feeling or need to separate yourself from always being someone’s wife or mother and trying to see what it would feel like to just be YOU. Without anybody NEEDING something from you constantly. I get that, I do.

For me it feels like it’s own version of hell in heaven but different strokes and all that. Buuuut, that didn’t stop me from stealing her car while she was at work. To be fair, Bob’s lawyer said I could. Lol. So, I did. It was fun. It was also stupidly easy-ish. There was only one set of keys, and Bob was wracking his brain trying to think of a way to get a hold of them. Then one day, I was visiting, and Bob’s wife was there. I don’t remember what her damage was that day, but the timing couldn’t have been better for me except for the wardrobe issues I knew I was going to have.

So, the two of them were in the basement, and when I last checked on them, she was just roughly one inch from Bob’s face, screaming and spraying spit all over him. It seemed like they had that under control, so I took that opportunity to go upstairs and poke my hand into the wife’s jacket pocket and snag her keys.

Once I had them, I stepped down a few steps and told Bob I was ready to go, and asked him to walk with me to the variety store. By now, Bob was so soaked in wife-spit that he could have just slid off the basement sofa, lol. He managed to slide out from under her somehow, and we went out the door on foot because they only had one car and mine was being worked on. Bob and I got to the foot of the driveway, and I asked him where the nearest hardware store was, and he said it was two or three blocks. Sadly, I had been at job interviews that morning, and I was in heels and a skirt, and there was about a foot of snow on the ground. I walked as far as I could in those high (4-inch) heels until I started losing them in the snow; then I took them off, stuffed them into my bag, and finished the walk in my nylons.

Once we got to the hardware store, it wasn’t that hard to talk the guy into making us a copy of the car keys. Then Bob called his parents, who came to pick us up and take us back to Bob’s house. When we got there, Wifey went whacko!! She went straight off her nut, lmfao, it was so funny! I asked her what her damage was as I tossed her the car keys. She looked at me like she couldn’t believe any of this was happening (I have that effect on people) and she said, “WTF! You stole my keys?” I said, “Of course I did, where did you think they went?”

Now she was way past flabbergasted, lol. She was standing there with her mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. Then she asked me, “Why? Would you do that? I wanted to take the boys to Tim’s (Tim Hortons).” So I told her, “Well, you shouldn’t have raised your voice to me earlier,” in a light, airy voice. Wifey is now so confused and astounded she doesn’t know WTH to think, so she squishes up her face a little and says to me, “Are you really that precious?” (NOTE: When people ask me a question like this, there’s only one way it’s going to play out.) I gazed at Wifey as if I were giving this question serious consideration, before finally nodding my head and saying to her, “Yes. Yes, I believe I am.” Wifey was so taken off guard that she started laughing! Then she left with the boys and took them out to eat.

Later that night, I had Bob drive me to the casino where Wifey worked, and I stole her car right out of the parking lot with cameras EVERYWHERE! The car’s owner was listed as both Bob and his Wifey, so Bob’s lawyer said, “Oh yeah, you go get that.” So, I did. I’m a doer. Lol. This wasn’t the first car I had to steal for someone, so it was no big deal.

The next morning, Shaun runs into Bob’s bedroom, wakes us up and tells me to look outside, and he is laughing his ass off! I run to look out the living room window, and my little red convertible is flying through the air! I had to shake my head a couple of times because I wasn’t awake yet and I was sure that I was seeing things. I was not.

My car was flying through the air like a magic carpet until I looked below it. Wifey had my car up on a flatbed, being moved so she could take her car back! Lmao! I tried to tell Bob to stash it, but nope, he wanted it in his driveway blocked in by my car. She paid a tow company to move my car, tow hers (I pulled the battery), and put mine back! I’m almost sorry that I refused to give her the keys that morning because her tenacity impressed the hell out of me, and she was so funny, damn it. But, I didn’t. Simply because we do not consort with the enemy during times of war. But damn it, lol, my freaking car! Lol, my flying red car!

Sending a virtual fist bump out to the ex-wifey! Wifey would have been an absolute blast to hang out with, I’d bet. She was hilarious! But, I was hooked on her kids. lol By the following spring, I was hooked on her ex.

Break time, Pally! I’m going to the kitchen, do you need anything? LOL No? Okay, brb.

I wanted to work in the backyard today because I need the extra space for a sculpture that I am making to honor Helen. However, my neighbors are sitting outside, and I am an introvert, so that’s not going to work. Besides, that particular neighbor is awesome, and she recently gave me this fantastic, lit patio umbrella.

This thing is HUGE! I love it! The problem is this: every time I go outside now, I feel like they are watching and waiting for me to use it. No, I’m not being paranoid. I get these feelings about other people and the world around me sometimes. Sometimes I get them in a dream, or it comes on like a fight or flight response or a reflex. Sometimes it’s like an itch that I can’t scratch, and it will drive me nuts until I do whatever it is that I’m supposed to do. Sometimes, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and I have to relax and just float with the current of it, and like a winding river, it gets me there eventually. That’s kind of how ending up in Canada was.

It would have made better sense for me to go to New Mexico where my lifelong bestie lived. But I wrote off that idea and I have no idea why I would do that. It wasn’t like I decided not to go there. No, it was more like I never even considered it which is so odd. Anyway, I just floated, and the universe or whatever, put me where I needed to be. This was fine with me because I was in a dark place and had no business driving my own life then. I don’t know how or why I get these feelings; I just know that I always have.

Example; the day my family moved to 13th Street, I vividly recall our family pulling up into the driveway, and out of nowhere, I asked my parents, “Is this 1911 E 13th Street?” I guess it must have been because Dad looked at my stepmom with wide eyes and asked, “How the hell did she know that?” My stepmom replied, “She probably just heard us talking about it.” Nope. I dreamed it the night before, and for some reason, I felt it was important to memorize it. No idea why it was important even to this day. It just was. So I did. Still don’t know why it was important. I have many more examples, but that may be for another time.

By the next spring, Bob and I were a couple, and we did everything together. He took me around Ontario and showed me all these new places! I got a job at an Adult Care Home for Women in Port Huron, and I worked midnights. Shaun was always gone running around with his friends, and that left me in a quiet house to sleep during the day. I alternated sleeping at home and in Canada.

Eventually, I ended up renting that house next to Mantis Restaurant. We lived there for 2, maybe 3 years, and now things are going to start getting a little hazy for me yet again because to know me is to love me and then traumatize me! LOL! Bob is no exception. Hell, I don’t think anyone is anymore! Haha! So you would be correct in assuming that I boxed up even more BS. But hey, at least it isn’t domestic BS! Lol! I decided to go get some foreign BS! I sometimes think I am like a memory hoarder. Lmao I bet there’s no reality TV show for that!

Believe me, if I could burn all the memories away, I would have already. Some can’t be burned. Bob and I stayed in Canada until February 1st, 2007. And this one is more recent but less raw because I decided to take ownership of my relationship after this event. That wasn’t easy to do considering that I was bat-shit-crazy at the time, and it didn’t look like it was going to be getting better any time soon. This is not going to be as easy as I thought it was going to be. I have found that sometimes honesty, similar to memories being hidden, is like a K-Bar. It will cut you going in and gut you coming out. This is another of those times, so I am going to break it down a bit, but you will know what happened by the time I’ve finished.

CHAPTER 39: ABOUT BOB

Ok, Bob.

When Emery and I met, we didn’t necessarily need each other because we were self-sufficient. When I met Bob, he needed me. Bob loved his wife, his kids, and his life, and it was all slipping from his grasp. It felt nice to be needed. I also needed someone, which is not a feeling I am used to. Bob was worried that he might lose custody of his kids in the divorce. I helped him get through that, and we grew closer and closer until I was in love. We were married in Niagara, NY, in 2007.

The reason that we got married is because one day I made up my mind that I had given much for receiving so little return on my investment with Bob, so it was time for action. I wasn’t getting any younger. So I called Bob and told him, “Look, we have been doing this for several years now. So either marry me or cut me loose because this is played out.”

He agreed to marry me and nearly had a stroke when I told him, “Good, I have us scheduled in Niagara, New York, County Courthouse at 1 pm, Saturday! Lol!” August 8th, 2007; we were married. Two weeks into our marriage, Bob told me that he had been having an affair, with someone from work, for the past 3 years. He later changed that to 3 times in three years, so who knows? 3 years while I was raising his kids and paying his bills and buying their groceries? I lost my mind and beat the dog shit right out of him. A lot. Nearly daily. Ok, daily, multiple times per day. Most always behind closed doors.

Right here, I want to apologize to our boys. All three of you. I was not the mom that you all needed during that time, and I will be forever sorry for that because you are all wonderful boys, and I love you with all my heart. I hope you can forgive me somehow. I did my best to keep my direct actions away from the boys, but even in my broken state, I knew they must have heard us. Anger/Grief cocktails are the absolute worst.

In both of these marriages, it was my very best friend who betrayed me, so I had no best friend or family member that I could turn to for advice or comfort other than Shaun. And, gotta love my boy, he did his very best to make me feel better and to be there for me. However, I hate burdening my kids with my BS. So I was mostly making it up as I went. Shaney + Crazy = shit decisions. I didn’t stop whooping on Bob until after Shaun brought Kiea (Shaun’s daughter) home for good, and I realized that we, Bob and I were going to be raising her. That would have been summer 2008.

I was so proud of myself for not letting the complete loss of Emery and Sammy keep me from living. I was proud of myself for putting myself out there and taking that risk. I was a damned idiot! I should have been put in the freaking happy house because what I really did was pan to fire yes? Hell yes I did! Why? Why do I give my love to people who keep doing stupid shit like this?

Do ALL people do stupid shit like this? The bigger question for me is: what is it about me that makes people think that it’s okay to treat me the way they do? No joke, it isn’t the world around me; it’s me! It HAS to be! I’m like a lightning rod for bullshit! Well, I decided I wasn’t ever going to get married or fall in love ever again. I wanted the life and family that the boys and I were promised, and we were going to have it, even if I had to TAKE IT! Damn it! That was my end goal.

Somebody once said, “Man plans and God laughs.” IMO, God needs a nice tall ICY glass of getduhfukouttamybuisnessandleavemeduhfukalone!!! But, that’s just me.

So, for the next year or so, I was certifiably insane, and I hated myself, but the rage, omg, the rage was SO HUGE! It felt too big to control. It didn’t help that all I wanted to know was why. He flat refused to tell me. He would make comments while grinning or sneering at me that were meant to cut deep, and they did.

Before we left Canada, Bob had started this sort of campaign to tell me gory details… (Apparently, she has nipples that look like toilet plungers! Eewww) and acted like it was funny. He did this daily, and for that, I beat his ass daily and each day I made sure it was worse for him than it was for me with the hopes that soon he would stop this shit. My man isn’t the fastest to clue in sometimes. It occurred to me that Bob had no remorse, and emotionally, I couldn’t touch him.

Well, anyone who has seen an AT&T commercial knows where this is going… I reached out and touched his ass! Really, really hard! Mhm, bet he felt that just fine.

Now the playing field was a little more even.

Pally you may want to take note here; If a person can’t feel you emotionally, try physically. It has been my tried and true way of connecting and conducting business since 1966!

If any of you ever wondered why I respond to trauma the way I do, please restart the book and call your BFF when you are finished.

If your BFF cannot help you, take them by the hand and together, the two of you should go find a nice book club because BOOKCLUBS ARE WONDERFUL! Books are the best escape ever in my world and someone at that club can explain everything to you.

Bob’s BS tales didn’t piss me off as much as his refusal to tell me why.

Ya know what? I really hate it when people refuse the smallest requests. The moment I asked him why, I kicked myself because I knew he had me. He now had something I wanted. Needed. I’m not proud of this, but everyone has a limit to how much they can stand, and Bob just happened to be the unlucky contestant to breach mine. He had leverage; damn it!

Nah, we aren’t playing that game. Not again. Not ever. Bob made promises not just to me but to his boys, and damn it, at least one person in this life was going to deliver on their word if I had to beat it out of them! I used to think that Bob expected me to just boo-hoo and wander off down the jilted lover’s path, so he could come off like the big swinging dick on campus.

That, I’m sorry to say, wasn’t going to work for me because I already lost one life with Emery’s fake amnesia bullshit. I wasn’t going to lose two more kids. I promised those boys from the beginning that they were only allowed to call me what they wanted to call me (except swear words because, those are ‘in the head’ words only), and I promised them that I would never leave them. I’m not going to let Bob make me a liar, and I refuse to have to walk away from any more of my kids!

WTF would make me think that my feelings were more important than the feelings of those boys? It didn’t matter how I felt; I loved those kids, and I was keeping my promise. So, when my heart problems started acting up, I decided to bring my son home to Iowa.

Wait, no. That’s not true… That’s the story I told everyone. Mostly, though, I was running away because, where was a man of my new husband’s age supposed to get a decent-paying job now?

Ok, that’s not completely true either. I was running away, back to Iowa, because I had fallen in love with a man and his kids, but only his kids loved me back. That’s the truth. I have had to have cover stories for other people’s actions for so long it’s become second nature.

I wonder if I will ever stop doing that. Putting lipstick on the pigs of my life. I hope so.

Then there’s the fact that Bob’s sidepiece didn’t live very far away and still worked at the same place Bob did, and who knows how many others I was going to learn about now. The level of stupidity of Bob’s alleged affair, still gets me laughing.

This girl Bob worked with, we will just call her Bagofdix. While she was being the company cum dumpster, (I did warn you, so button it up) she claimed it was because her mom had Huntington’s disease.

can cause a person to become very promiscuous. Her mom having died from the illness, garners deep sympathy from me. But this person, this Bagofdix, only thought she might have had it.

Now she is about the same age as Dora and Dora is in her 50’s. So now Bagofdix is in her 50’s and last picture of her I saw was last year and she was at the airport not looking sick at all! She was standing and smiling.

Now, I’m not an expert to be sure, but it seems to me that she wasn’t sick.

She was just a slut.

Pally, I’m too good of a shot to stay there; because I did carry a gun at that time, so you can understand why I had to go ASAP! Gasp! That’s just what I did too.

I called a guy I knew who worked at a used furniture store, and he locked up my gun for me in a business safe, and that was enough to keep everyone alive.

Then I did a long-term borrow (to the surprise of the rental truck agency) on a rental truck, got packed, grabbed everyone up, and beat feet the hell out of Dodge!

I headed for Iowa; because I am a moron.

There’s this thing inside of me that I hate and I wish it would die off, lol. Every time I am far from home and I get hurt, I run right back to my family as if I think they will make it feel better. Like a damned homing pigeon! Why do I keep doing that to myself when they have NEVER wanted to make me feel better? I’m not stupid yet here I am again! It’s like a crazy migration thing FFS! Don’t get me wrong, my parents helped Shaun and I get our first house. I appreciate that. You know I do! Mom even talked Dad into letting me pick the color paint for the bathroom! lol Dad came to the house and did loads of work for me. They are wonderful that way.

But when Shaun set fire to that same house and we lost EVERYTHING to smoke damage, Grandma J, gave me this old buffet so we would at least have a place to store clothes and dishes while we were cleaning up. But my Dad found out about it and called her, telling her that if that buffet went to anyone, it was going to him! Did I mention that we HAD NOTHING???

So, feelings? No…not so much in their wheelhouse unless they think you are going to get something they wont get. Empathy? Nah man, I didn’t learn that from my family.

Hmmm, I’m trying to remember where I did get that from. I could have stole it out of some garden or off of some clothesline. Oh! Unless I found it at a laundromat. Crap, I can’t recall! So I’m thinking that either, I grew it on accident inside of me or that shit got slipped into my bong by some gnarly, emo ninja dude. Either way; it sucks huge greazy ass. So, no. I didn’t learn empathy there.

So, if I already know this about them, why do I run back to them every time I’m hurt? Because I’m stupid. Duh! Haha! So, needless to say, going back to Iowa was a HUGE, COLOSSAL MISTAKE AND I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN TO JUST KEEP DRIVING!!! Sometimes, I am a complete imbecile.

Iowa is a time like that. Still. Why do I keep returning to a home that doesn’t exist for me, hoping to find a welcoming sanctuary that also doesn’t exist for me, and comfort from my pain in a place that only gives pain? Why do I do this? You’re right Pally. It’s because I love them and sometimes, for me, it’s more important to be around people that you love rather than people who love you. Sometimes the people who love you can be in very short supply.

Obviously, I make an effort to never keep spares on hand. I was going to return to Iowa with only Shaun, but Bob made up his mind that he was going to come with me. Yeah, I know! It didn’t make sense to me either but then I was a basket case so I have that much going for me. We gave the boys the choice of coming with psycho Shaney or trying to make arrangements for them to live with their mom. They chose to come with us, and I knew that sticking by these boys was the right thing to do.

Sadly, the person I had become and was becoming wasn’t the one who should have been sticking with them. The woman I was before marriage was, but this was what they had to work with. I would have considered becoming a lesbian just to avoid kickstand drama, but women are just as bad, I swear! Maybe even worse! Enough for today.

G’night Pally. Hotter than hell outside today! I love it! I hate snow and being cold. Sun and sand for me. Or corn and speed traps. I suppose that works too. For now. I am going to finish this book by placing the main events and then going back to fill in any blanks. Maybe that will make it a little bit easier to work with.

CHAPTER 40: The Shane-a-ling Fury & Bitch Be Bailing Circus!

Headed to Iowa in 3 vehicles. It was me, Bob, our two youngest boys Cor and Big D, Shaun and his girlfriend, his best buddy, a python named Orchid, a cat, Zoe, and 3 large dogs, Bailey, Luna, and Trixie. It was as if my world morphed into; The Shane-a-ling, Bitch Be Bailing, Circus! And I was leading the convoy!

I was driving a 26′ Penske Truck full of all the possessions we could squeeze in there. We landed in an earth berm home in Johnston, Iowa.

Bob and I found the house online and had driven to Iowa to secure housing before bringing the whole family. This house was above the offices and garages of the ReadyMix plant. Omg, the exhaust fumes were horrible, especially in the boys’ room! This house is extremely important to my life, so I am asking you to remember THIS HOUSE. We were only there for a month or two before moving to Des Moines to a house on 9th.

I had already decided that visiting my daughter, would have to be initiated by her as it was her decision that I was trying to respect. “I was convinced that she had created a whole new life in my absence, as she rightly should have, one that didn’t involve me. Who the hell am I to disrupt her world now?” No damned body. That’s who.

Now, if I were my mom or Karen? I wouldn’t have missed a beat, before INSERTING myself, uninvited, into her life. That’s not me.

That’s selfish as hell. That would have only been for me. Could only have been for me. For what I wanted.

That is exactly what you did to her. It was never for her you fucking vampires.

That would mean giving zero thought to what my own daughter may want. By doing something that thoughtless; I would also risk causing her extreme emotional pain and I am not that person. I am not that parent. I don’t put my wants before what’s best for my kids.

Hell I couldn’t even put my needs before my kids! I made dentists pull my teeth rather than fill them because it was cheaper and I had kids to feed!

This kid~of~MINE~is grown. I do not require my child to do or to be anything other than healthy and happy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

She does not require my feels to do that. All she needs to concentrate on, is living her very best life, in any way that keeps her in the brightest possible light. Always.

She sure as hell doesn’t need to be thinking about all the past drama or dealing with her damn mom. You all trip out on me because; what?

Because I’m not throwing myself into traffic? Maybe you would prefer I do a nice swan dive from a tall bridge?

Please, I’m begging you, do not mistake your own weaknesses as being viral. I never caught it.

I can assure you; that is all, a “you problem.” Not a “me problem.” You are free to do as you wish with this revelation.

For me to sit here, all these years later and be, what? I don’t know. How about you tell me how you think I should be! Manic depressive? Been there, done that. I found it to be counter productive. Next? Should I be….a drunk? A junkie? A Slut? Insane?????

I HAVE ALREADY BEEN ALL OF THESE THINGS. AND MY HAPPY ASS HAS BOUNCED BACK EVERY TIME, STRONGER AND MORE PISSED OFF THAN EVER.

I have to ask you; my loved ones. In which way; might I self destruct, in order to set your precious, little hearts at ease? Because, why? Just; why? I took my time leaving Iowa. I weighed out literally EVERY possible outcome. I did what I did; the way I did it-----BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE LESS COLLATERAL DAMAGE THAT WAY!!!!!

I would take the brunt of it onto myself. Believe me, that’s exactly what I did. I left them both financially better off than I found either one of them and as for Shaun and I; we started over with a car and $300.00.

So, boo freaking hoo. Feel better? I bet you two, suck ass at chess.

Shaun owns that chessboard like a boss so he knows I’m not talking to him.

My daughter knows that I don’t talk to her like that so she knows that I’m not talking to her.

Lol, I’m gonna go get blazed and give you a beat to figure it all out. But, I think it’s a safe bet that you just suck. Ugh, I can’t even look at this page anymore, I that kind of disgusted. Grown people even! Ugh. Here Pally, I hope listening to this will help wash the stupid you just read, out of your eyes.

HEY YOU by DOPE LEMON https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKMI_bQLYO8 ************************************************************************* I love ya Pally; sigh sorry about that. I suck at chess too, but then again; common sense hasn’t completely left MY building…. I ask you.

Who do you think paid the highest price for whatever the hell happened? Who do you think had to make friends with all the blow back, the struggling, the worthlessness of existing, losing her life, her daughter, her husband, her home, knowing that homelessness was more than a possibility, dragging her child into it with her, THE PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!! The EXTREME loss, they knew awaited them?

Who? NO. I NEED YOU TO SAY IT. Please at least acknowledge that I am being heard. That I exist still. Please just say it. WHO? Now ASK WHY? Why the hell, would ANY sane person do that? WHY GODDAMN IT! SAY IT!

That’s right. Because I love. I’m sorry Pally…it’s been a long time coming… I feel too much, too deep right now and the rage is palpable. The sorrow is dancing at the edge of life threatening. Sanity threatening at bare minimum. Sometimes I just want to gather every foolish, selfish, blind person that I love and, I just want to shake your TEETH LOOSE!

You never had to love us! You never even had to like us! You only needed to be kind. Why is that so hard?

Are you really that quick to judge? To hate? Why?

I will tell you why.

Because we are Judy’s daughter’s and you hate us for that. You couldn’t be kind to us because our blood came from a dead woman.

Wow. Just wow.

I really, had no idea that which vagina you happen to fall out of; could hold that level of emotional sway over adult human beings!

WITNESS ALL! THE MASSIVE UNRESTRAINED POWER OF THE VAJAYJAY! ALL MUST BOW TO THE VAJAJAY QUEEN..

Just so we are completely clear.

My mom’s vagina was so powerful that it, not only; controlled my entire existence; it controlled your entire adult life as well? Well, that’s it!

Now I understand. That is why she called me Queenie!

Ok, following along; My mom was the Queen, but upon her death, the crown shifted to me because I am the oldest! Bada-bing bada-boom, and I’m yer Huckleberry! When I pass it goes to my sister Dora!

I AM THE VAJAYJAY QUEEN!?

Wait, what? How come nobody told me? What are the perks I get? Free Vagisil for life? Sweeeet!

No; I mean, that’s great, really…um look I just need to uh, pop over here for a second to ah, discuss with my, um my trusted advisor over there. (Pally, I’m feeling like maybe we should revisit the, um, the title. No, no, the queen part is a bit over the top for me but the other part? Look, can’t we just call it a pussy?)

Go on! Lmao! Get outta here! If I couldn’t laugh at my life, I would die. I have to admit that, as pitiful as I find you to be; the amusement of you; always making the least possible sense, seriously overshadows it. You forgot. Lmao!!!! Omg lmao! Pally! I can’t believe they forgot!!!!! Ha-ha-ha! But they did! omg… Before the winged rats swooped in; they forgot pally!

They forgot that; No matter if I never see her beautiful face, Kiss her precious cheek or hear her sweet voice; she is and always will be; are ya ready for it? Nope? Tough.

JUDY’S GRANDDAUGHTER. You got that? Barrel closes

Judy’s. Barrel spins

MY DAUGHTER. wait for it…

cocks back

OUR BLOOD. wait for it…

MINE, DORA’S, DAD’S AND JUDY’S.

FIRE!!!! _________________________________________________

She has Judy’s blood coursing through her veins. The very same blood that made you hate me and my sister is in my daughter. You spent my life time punishing me for being Judy’s daughter and now you think it’s okay to use my daughter to punish me more?

My daughter? No way are you that ignorant.

Hmmmm…you really should have known better. Who the hell do you think you are? I think that you really believed that you would never have to answer for your stupid, childish, “mean girl” crap. The truth is; you almost didn’t have to answer for it. Then you messed up.

I see both of your faces. Neither looks like home to me. It’s the waste of it all that I find horrifying. The years spent feeling lowly like that, it couldn’t have been easy for you, feeling like you were less than a dead woman. I am positive that we, Dora and I, didn’t make you feel like that though.

Nothing ever needed to be so awful. If it was impossible for you to be kind, you could have at least been nice.

All I ever wanted you to be was nice or kind. That’s all. Just nice or kind. Must be a huge ask.

Now…. As for the way you all blazed in, to feast from the leftover carnage of my life.

Like carrion birds. Vultures. Buzzards. Death eaters. I am her mom. Nothing can change that. Hate and jealousy doesn’t change any of that.

Changing names doesn’t change that.

Your need to always feel superior to me, doesn’t change any of that.

How can you still be so deluded? That is my blood, flowing inside of her. If you wanted to be her family,, why wait nearly 14 years? You never tried to be anything for her. Not one time.

Dora and I just needed to feel safe and cared for. That was your job. But you weren’t having it. You beat the ever luvin hell out of me frequently and Dora nearly daily!!!!!!! Bet dad doesn’t know that. You flirted with our boyfriends. OMG! Especially during the ouji board business!

Well, not my boyfriends, because I didn’t let them hang around long.

My point is that you have enough YOU issues that you should be concentrating on.

I love you enough to free up your time and efforts by releasing you of whatever deluded grand-parental/wanna be aunt, duties you suddenly feel you are needed for. I can assure you that you most certainly are not needed and wouldn’t have ever known if you were.

My beautiful baby has always been a look alike for her grandma Judy. How does that not strum your hate strings?

One day; in the not so distant future, you can explain your actions, but not to me. I know weak when I see it.

You and my mom just might come toe to toe. If there is a heaven, how will you answer for it? The way her daughter’s were treated?

Do you realize how badly we needed to love you? To be loved by you? How did you not think of that? I’m, not really sure how you missed that.

Humph….odd…oh well. Regardless I already knew that my daughter, would continue to be the most beautiful, exceptional, brilliant, wonderful daughter that she ALWAYS was. I also already knew she would go on to become the most beautiful, exceptional, brilliant, wonderful, woman I always knew she would be.

She never needed me for that. She was born that way. So, I have not gone to see her. I do not stalk her. I just love her deeply from over here and cherish the time I had with her because if I couldn’t do that, our history would go to waste and it was far too beautiful for me to allow that to happen.

She is allowed to live her own life, on her own terms and she doesn’t need anyone messing with her or coming at her to have their owns needs filled! I believed that for myself and I believe it for my children. Not because I’m so self righteous, but because I love and respect my family.

I don’t feed on them. That’s nasty.

Bob and I started working on immigration for him and the boys while Shaun’s girlfriend worked at a local Pizza Hut, and I worked night security at a meat packing plant and later phone sales at EDS.

Shaun and his buddy got jobs at GameStop. It was here that we found out that I was to be a grandmother and my son a father! I was so happy! After several months at that house, we moved to a house near Drake University. My granddaughter was born while we lived here, and she was beautiful! It was also here, where I witnessed my oldest son get married, and I was so proud! When the baby was a couple of months old, we moved to Guthrie Center.

Now, this is not my favorite place for many reasons, but if you need the most simple reason: it would be that their water tower is in the cemetery. You can google that. There are photos. Just saying. Our two youngest boys did excellent in the Guthrie schools and were well-liked by everyone who met them. When Big D graduated, they handed him a flower, and he walked right past his dad and brought it to me. I just stood there crying.

I still have that flower. A Gerbera Daisy. Right after this, Shaun started taking an interest in Big D, and then D changed. Soon after he graduated, Big D left home with no explanation and went back to Canada. No goodbyes, no nothing. We had no idea what was going on, but Shaun did. Chapter 41: What goes up….Big D

Before D left Iowa, Shaun and his wife had split up.

Knowing that his wife had no support system and was making dangerous choices, and refused to listen to anybody; I told Shaun to go get his daughter and bring her home. He did.

Bob and I raised Kiea until she was 12 years old. During her first 3 years, Bob raised her almost exclusively because I was working as much as possible.

There was a year where I think Cor watched her during the day so Bob could go out every day and hunt pop cans and bottles just to keep that baby in diapers. He is a good Grandpa that little girl loved him to pieces and he loved her.

Shaun popped in and out but was never around consistently until Kiea was around 10 years old when he moved back home again. He always stayed in touch with me, though while he was out doing his guy thing and always asked me if she needed anything. He was also really good about making sure that when he had money, he bought whatever she needed. There aren’t many jobs in Guthrie Center, and Shaun was taking work in Des Moines.

Besides, Shaun was still young, and being a parent isn’t easy. I wanted to do everything I could to make Shaun and Kiea’s future go smoothly. Road to hell, I tell you! No good deed goes unpunished in my family, lol. No matter, I wanted him to go out and live and experience being young and free so that when his daughter was older and needed him to be there for her during a time she would remember, he would have all that out of his system and be able to be the dad I knew he could be. He once got so mad at me that he offered to sign custody of her over to me. Now, I wish I had done it. Let him give her to me. Hindsight is a bitch. I was shocked! I never wanted to be that kind of mom.

CHAPTER 42: THEY DON’T GROW UP FAST ENOUGH

Several years later, Shaun was in a good job, had met a nice woman, and wanted to have Kiea with him. He is her dad, so I was fine with this, if she was. I talked with her, and she was good with it. So they moved out. Everything was going so-so until my son bought his first house. Then he went off on some war lording, power trip and has been there ever since.

I really do wish that I had let him give her to me; but there’s still the chance that; without me around as an antagonist or trigger for him, maybe that will allow him to be an amazing dad.

Even if he could be a nice, caring dad, it would be a tremendous improvement because I have never heard him say one single nice thing about anyone other than Jethany. I tried to suggest that for every negative thing he said to the girls, try to say 3 positive things.

He basically told me to fuck off, then he went on one of his predictable, “Ban my mommy because I’m a big boy now” benders. Yeah, you’re right,

Pally; I have no idea what to do with all of this. I’m flying by the seat of my pants and hoping like hell that my absence will keep those girls from being collateral damage because one of them can’t even talk and is in a wheelchair.

Since then, it has been so hellish that I’ve had to completely back away from him. I think he may have lost his mind. And he thinks I’ve lost my granddaughter. I know that’s not possible. Kiea and I are deeply connected and always have been. I hope it’s strong enough to last throughout this time apart. I know we may grow apart, but I cannot do anything about that.

My son wields his daughter like a sword at me, not caring what it does to either of us. This is not the son I raised. I have this gut feeling that when I was spending time with the girls, he was way harder than usual on them after he got them away from me, especially if they seemed happy with me or seemed as if they liked me.

Looking back, he also verbally attacked me after the girls told me they heard Jethany telling him that she actually liked me. It seems like he is competing with me, and I don’t understand that at all. It started off with him demanding that Kiea not tell me anything about her school days or if she needed something. He said it was because he wanted her to open up to him that she was barely allowed to even speak to me and we lived in the same house! Then he went into the basement and wouldn’t let her go down there.

My guess is at some point she walked in on him while he was watching porn. Been there, done that. Anyway. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t convince him that being close to a parent is earned by the parent, not taken from the child by force, FFS. WTF is it with this guy? This is basic common sense, and my son always has common sense, but not this guy! So, the more Kiea spoke to me, the meaner I saw him being to her. So, the more she loved me, the worse she was treated.

MY SON PUNISHES HIS DAUGHTER FOR SPEAKING TO, LOVING, AND TRUSTING HER GRANDMOTHER!!!

If I didn’t know better, I would say he is a jealous narcissist; that hates it if anyone loves anyone besides him. Jealous of his own daughter FFS! Then he also says he hates me; yet all the while he is trying to act like me! He takes on my mannerisms and sayings like he has no idea how to just be himself and I have never seen him like that before. Every time Shaun gave me a gift; since leaving Iowa; he would later come and take it back to give to whatever girlfriend he might be with at the moment.

He told the girls that he hated me and couldn’t wait for me to die because he wasn’t even going to go to my funeral. What strikes me as odd it that he is saying all of this to little girls, not to me. That tells me that he is saying this shit with the explicit intent to hurt Kiea!

COULD YOU POSSIBLY STOOP ANY LOWER?

I love my son. But this hateful bastard, is not my son! I don’t know what he did to my son but he deserves to die for taking my sons place and hurting his baby. The day we were helping him move into his new house, right in front of me, he tried to give Jethany a bench I made for his daughter one year for Easter! Now he wants to steal from his kid? He even stole the wedding ring her Mom left, for me to give to her when she got married and gave it to some girl who ended up dumping him anyway! He did have one girlfriend who claimed that he gave her yorkie a brain injury by hitting it.

That completely tracks. He once got me a king German shepherd named Reggie. He kicked that dog down the stairs so hard that I found him laying at the bottom of the steps bleeding and I had to give him away just to keep him alive. Yet, I’m the one that’s messed up! You were walking on eggshells because of me? Have you been sniffing glue??? You can barely do anything with those girls that one of them doesn’t get hurt somehow. Which is scary because one of those girls can’t speak at all!!!!

That brain damaged imposter would have lasted 3 seconds in a closed room with MY son. My son had compassion. My son protected the ones who got picked on and abused. My sons’ first best friend was a little autistic girl who was lonely. My son was a good person with a huge, generous, beautiful heart. He was smart and clever and funny and so loving. I loved my son more than my own life. I don’t know this person but I don’t like him at all.

This fool is not my son. This fool is too insecure and self loathing. That isn’t my son who made his daughter scared of him.

My son honestly wouldn’t do that! Not ever! No, I am not kidding myself. I am telling you that this person is NOT the Shaun I gave birth to! My Shaun wasn’t a malicious person and nothing he ever did was for the sole purpose of being mean.

This new Shaun isn’t an improvement. This Shaun is small weak and pathetic. Like an angry spoiled child showing his ass for attention. I’m embarrassed for him when he acts like that. It seems like he is trying to boost his self esteem by launching himself off of the love of those he should be loving back.

I KNOW the real Shaun. I knew the real Shaun I knew him better than any other person in this world ever has and I adored him just as I did his sister. I could see his amazing even when nobody else could! It was always that way. No Mother and son were ever closer. This guy? I hope that this guy, this twisted persona, dies in the most terrifying ways, for the way he is with those girls; and for her part in it, I hope he drags Jethany in with him.

Maybe then Kiea’s amazing Dad will return. That’s the dream, anyway. Regardless, Kiea doesn’t need to be around the two of us if all we do is fight. Jethany’s (Shaun’s girlfriend) kids don’t need to be around that shit either, so… I stay away and hope for the best. However, I make Bob drive me past their house weekly so I can honk and scream out the window, “I love you girls!!” Sometimes we drive by and I say nothing. I just ride and cry lol. I hate my life. I will be grateful when it is over. I also leave them gifts in their mailbox. I don’t know if they ever get them.

I should probably stop doing that because it’s more for me than them especially because I don’t know if they ever hear me or get the gifts. Also, it might make him angry toward them if I keep doing this. There is no winning for anyone in this dumpster fire. I won’t bring drama into the lives of those girls, but I want them to know I love them and I would be with them if I could.

OOOOOoooo; maybe I could put a sign in my front yard that says “If you know Kiea, tell her that Grandma loves her!” It should reach the right Kiea eventually! Lmao!

No, I just need to be patient and understanding because I know that the next time I lay eyes on my precious girl, she will be very busy with her own life. I also know that after reassuring her that I have loved her all of her life and I will for all of time; I will have to again, take a step back so she can grow into the woman I know she will be. That’s enough for today because I have too much that I need to get done around here.

‘Til tomorrow, Pally!

CHAPTER 43: THE MACHO-BRO MENTALITY

Macho-Bro mentality is often seen in clubs, gangs, sports even war.

It is that thing inside a guy that makes him feel a brotherhood to other owners of the kickstand.

It’s that ‘Hey Bro, I’ve got your back’ thing as shown in the pulp culture classic

Easy Rider.

It is this guy thing, that makes them feel like they are part of a brotherhood. A fellowship, if you will.

As much as I respect this fellowship, I don’t know why it all has to be so, ‘do or die.’

Anyway, the macho-bro mentality, is similar to ‘ride or die’ but seriously on steroids, lacking any individual thought processes.

If another Bro says something; IT IS THE GOSPEL OF BRO!

It absolutely, positively, must be true and that Bro will always have your back NO MATTER WHAT, right?

Wrong.

Now, active military guys, veterans and bikers are the absolute be-all of this mentality and, you are running the risk of being cornered by one if you do not own a kickstand already.

I suggest that, you do not make eye contact and speed walk, while looking for direction from beneath your eyebrows.

I do believe that, it was this mentality that contributed to me losing my entire world.

Em and I started staying in close contact with my Gramps as he needed some free time, so I started taking care of Grandma J (dad’s mom) and, Gramps would head out to our house and work on things with Emery.

Sounds normal enough, right? HUGE FREAKING MISTAKE!

Anyway, one morning I get there, to look after Grandma, and Gramps is saying his forearm was hurting.

The way he was describing it, I was worried he was having a heart attack so I called Emery to come take Gramps to the hospital because Gramps wouldn’t let me call an ambulance.

Emery took Gramps to the hospital and Gramps was then, taken by Life flight to Des Moines.

I can’t remember how I wasn’t with Grandma on the day I am talking about, but I wasn’t.

My stupid ass was sitting in the front lobby of a hospital in Des Moines, Iowa; while my Gramps was in surgery getting three or four stents put in because it would seem that I saved his freaking life and in doing so I straight up obliterated my own.

So, Emery, my Dad, and Aunt Velteeta were sitting in this lobby with me.

Emery starts pissing and moaning about Shaun’s behavior. This pissedmeduhfukoff; because first off; he is whining to people who have a completely different view of the value of children than I believed; we did.

Secondly, that’s my Son you are whining about, you giant, hairy puddle of needingmyfootupyourass!

Aaaand FLUFFY TIME!!!!

Ok deep sigh...

Emery whining about Shaun.

My Dad and Aunt Velveeta told my husband to;

“Take him back behind the woodshed and beat the fuck out of him.”

One more time Pally; this was my Aunt and my Father telling this ginormous bag of hair, to beat my boy!

Sure it was Emery’s choice and I get that.

However, my Husband and Father belong to the same “Macho-Bro kickstand Club” which portrays, to my husband that his bro, AKA, my Dad, will have his back with the wife/daughter, if need be.

Does that make sense to you Pally?

Okay, you’re correct. Sense isn’t to be found between these covers, gotcha.

How about; Can you now see the mentality that I was talking about?

Break time again.

My earache is bad today!

They all need to be thanking the righteous gawd of fluffiness today! I swear it’s all that keeps me from killing people most days. BRB

So I tried to explain all of this to Dora but I may as well have been trying to make sense to a tampon for all the further that I got there. She came back at me with “I’m kind of feeling like Emery could have said no.”

After I retrieved my fugging jaw from the floor, I said to Dora, “I think you may be missing the point. ” “This child’s GRANDFATHER and GREAT AUNT, advising a mountain-sized, tattooed biker dude; who is supposed to love Shaun, to BEAT HIM!!!”

Again, I ask you; WTF am I missing here?

I am obviously brain damaged because everytime I think about this, I ask myself WTF is so wrong with this family that I should have to explain, how many levels of WRONG that is!

When I pointed this out to Dora; she may have possibly understood what I was trying to tell her.

It’s never easy to tell. I asked Dora, to really think about what I was about to say. After I explained to her that, yes, you could see it like that, but you could also see it like, these people are family who should be protective of my kid because he is their family.

She raised her voice all high, like she was starring in Gone With The Wind and said, “Omg Shaney! I never saw it that way!!!” Dripping sugar, I then asked her how she could not see it that way. Her voice dropped back down to normal immediately, and right then, I wanted off the phone.

Lolol. I was so sick of this family toying with me.

That’s when my mind started cranking out solutions just like always.

More tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, okay, pipe down; I know I dipped out on you but Pally I couldn’t help myself!

I saw the chance to perform hard filthy, sweaty labor; rather than deal with this and well; how could I possibly pass up an opportunity like that?

On the upside, my deck is coming along nicely! Lol.

Pally; as easy as you are to talk to, man this one…this one has the power to end me permanently and I know it.

So yeah; I’m scared bad.

The last time I let myself dance with these ghosts; I swallowed a bottle of pills.

You feel me Pally?

I knew you would.

Thank you.

Be patient with me, ok?

I know that poison has to come out too, but let’s not hurry it.

I wasn’t trying to take that to a dark place, but I am trying hard to keep this honest.

I learned much too late that I can be broken.

And I was.

If you’re going through this right now; I promise; you will survive this.

If you think that you can’t; THINK AGAIN.

Life isn’t meant for the weak.

That’s why the only way we come out the other side, is if we go through.

And regardless of popular belief; life does not give you what you put into it.

Just because you are a good person who tries to do good things; that doesn’t mean that good things will ever visit you.

Just as a bad person who does bad things; wont necessarily live an unpleasant life.

Nothing is fair and nothing is permanent. Everything is temporary.

Do yourself a favor and don’t over invest like I did.

Also; I should point out that the “Life isn’t fair” saying is “SPOT ON.”

Life is not a game and it doesn’t play fair.

Not for me anyway. Or maybe it does but not in ways that are obvious at the time.

Life just IS.

Life falls under the “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit” category.

Hmmp, don’t listen to me, Pally, I’m just rambling.

But I am not throwing a fit, lol, I am unpacking.

The only thing I know about my life; is that it’s best to always stand in the very middle of whatever light that I can find in it.

My family, Emery, Shaun, and Sammy Jo; they were my only light.

My Husband, birth children, foster children, and every child I adopted with my heart along the way. This was the only light I ever called my own.

I was never able to see into the darkness beyond that light mostly because I had never even thought to try.

I loved my light more than my very life and soul and I cannot, for the life of me, understand how anybody who even vaguely knew me, couldn’t see that!

Not one fucking person who asked me why I left, actually CARED about the WHY!

Not one person who had claimed to love me, not one that I loved, not one that I provided for and made sure their needs as well as the needs of their kids, were met.

Not one family member or friend. Nobody even asked me if I was ok.

Only Shaun.

I hope that by now you have figured out my family’s patterns.

That is correct.

Everything was my fault always has been and always will be.

The End

The world’s shortest story?

Once upon a time,

She breathed.

Everything was her fault.

She died.

The End

Lol! Oh, come on Pally, if you can’t laugh at yourself and life then why bother?

I think that we, as a people take ourselves entirely too seriously!

Ok so, I started feeding Emery and after that I couldn’t shake him, so when Valentine’s day rolled around, I was all about being with this gigantic teddy bear of a man until my last breath and way beyond that!

I never made this a secret either. Everybody knew I was his Ride Or Die and he was mine.

I would end anyone who hurt him and he would do the same for me.

It was meant to be.

I loved him.

He loved me.

My Em died on April 5, 2017.

He took the best parts of me with him.

CHAPTER 44: DANCING WITH DEMONS I was half joking with my neighbor about working hard being the way I fight my demons. Every day that goes by, this becomes more and more true. I still worry about what will be left of me after this is all gone. I think the nightmares are coming back because I am waking up exhausted again, and Bob was telling me this morning that I am back to throwing hands and feet if I am touched when I am sleeping. I hope this relapse is temporary.

I may try to use a good share of today just working hard and trying to get my thoughts in order. Sometimes, the memories come through so fast that it’s overwhelming. So I need to slow my mind and work my body and try to develop a rhythm between physical work and mental work so everything will stabilize. Another self-taught skill. I don’t know, but it works for me.

After that, I will feel better moving forward because I have looked back at the last two weeks’ writings, and it seems that I have left huge gaps that must be filled. I’ll be honest with you, Pally. I don’t want to. It’s that simple. I don’t want to fill in any gaps with anything. I don’t want to remember any of it.

For the past week especially, I feel sick to my stomach at even the thought of writing any more of this. That’s scary as hell for me because I’m left wondering if the reason I feel like this is because there are even worse memories in there??? Holy Hell! How could this get any worse? And, do I really want to know?

I need to sort this out myself because I do not understand my reaction to this. I have never been a coward, but this makes me feel like one. Or maybe boxing everything up like I did WAS a cowardly act. I don’t know what to think anymore.

This feels like a storm raging PAST me, and all I can do is hold on for all I’m worth. I’m scared, so maybe I am a coward.

Every instinct I have is telling me that I damn well should be a coward RIGHT NOW!

I should stop and forget all this. RUN!

My mind is darting around like a scared rabbit trying to find a place to hide. RUN!

I need to get past all that and step into the clearing. RUUUN!

To do that means lots of hard physical labor. FUCK THAT! RUN!

So today, that’s my plan. No, damn it! Just RUN!

I am going to work myself into submission and clarity, and then I will be back after the longest, hottest shower ever. Wish me luck, Pally; I think I am going to need it.

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Good morning, Pally! Yesterday, I finished leveling out the patio area, and already this morning, I laid down the weed barrier cloth and started placing the pavers. I think it is going to look very nice when it is finished. I didn’t come into much in the way of clarity yesterday.

I know from experience that memories do not reemerge until they are damn good and ready, and forcing them is pointless. If I try to force it, then my mind could start filling in blanks with scrambled misinformation just to shut me up.

Yes, Pally, our brains can do that. Our brain is so complex, and we understand so precious little about it that it may as well be the deepest part of the ocean. Yet it does EVERYTHING. I personally believe that it is capable of so much more than we can comprehend at this time.

I also think that my brain is the BOSS. No way I am going to get away with bullying memories from it. I just have to be patient, and when it’s time, it’s just time, and it will come. If I am not successful today, then tomorrow, I will begin from the start of my story and go through everything I have written, and I will do as much editing as I can. After that, I will begin telling you random insanity stories from my life, lol. I may not be worth much in this human race, but I am always entertaining!

CHAPTER 45: GETTING MARRIED AGAIN

Pally, you may be stuck with me for the entire day because it is supposed to rain non-stop for the next few days. So I may as well start going deeper into my marriage to Bob.

Bob and I were married on August 8th, 2007.

I was completely over the moon in love with this man and his boys. Lol, I still am. So, we took the boys with us to Niagara, New York. We stayed on the Canadian side at the Hilton. We went to the wax museum. We got married. We had a pretty great time. Then everything went to shit. Yes really. The good days are gone. Oh yeah. Two weeks later, Bob told me about his so-called affair with a co-worker. So, I beat his ass for better than a year and became this venomous, angry woman.

The day that he told me about his tryst, I tried to be calm. I couldn’t. I had let my guard down so damn far for so long that I didn’t see it coming! Love will get a fool killed if you aren’t careful. That’s my takeaway because it seriously nearly killed me. I happened to have the cordless phone (go ask your parents, hon) in my hand, and the first thing that I did was… ladies?

Lol, yep, I threw it at him as hard as I could.

Over the next several months, I transformed into WANDA THE WILD WHACKO! Omg, one day I will be killed by a “WHY”. I swear I will. If I ask why; it’s never casual. I absolutely NEED to know the answer. If I am denied the answer, I turn into a raging pitbull hanging from an old tire. No way I’m letting go. Bob must have realized, somewhere in my craziness, that he had the advantage and he started using it against me. I had already clubbed him like a baby seal, so I don’t know where his reasoning was coming from, but I can tell you that it did not serve him well.

Every time I would ask him why, he would say the most ignorant things I have ever heard in my life. Ignorant or not, it hurt like hell. He would tell me she had a better-looking ass. Or she had better, toilet plunger-shaped nips. He told me he banged her in a park, that we frequented with the kids; on a picnic table. He did mention that her feet smelled like fetid roadkill but oddly, that didn’t make me feel any better.

I stayed in our bedroom most of the time so that my crazy wouldn’t leak out on the kids, but I was fooling myself. My crazy was spreading all over anybody who came near me. I was hurt and raging, and I wanted to know why any of this had to happen. What did I do wrong, or what could I have done better? This line of self-damnation isn’t my usual M.O. at all, but I didn’t know how to stop it! I didn’t feel like I had any control over my own thoughts because they kept attacking me! I had lost sight of who I was.

I needed help fast, or this honestly was going to be the end of me. I had nobody to turn to until February 2008. We had been married on August 2007. I went to my dad, shortly after we arrived and got settled in Iowa. Bob and I had talked about it and we decided, together to go see if my dad could help. We were hoping that Dad would hear both of us out and help us find a way to work through this.

Looking back now, I feel rather foolish.

Both Bob and I. We had to make this work because we had 3 kids counting on us and I couldn’t let any more kids down. I couldn’t see the forest through the trees and maybe Dad could point me in the right direction to get through this because I seriously didn’t want to live like that anymore.

He didn’t even wait to find out what the hell we were asking for. I went to him for help that I desperately needed, he turned his back on me and walked away. I had never once asked my dad for anything, ever. Not one time in my whole life until that day. Surely Dad had to know the depth of darkness I had to be sitting in to even come asking him for help. He walked away and left me standing there bleeding twice now…

It was all just too much! One night shortly after this, I swallowed a bottle of pills because I didn’t want to feel anything anymore, and my weed just wasn’t making me numb enough.

My feelings were hell on myself and everybody around me. I was beyond ashamed of myself but couldn’t stop it.

I felt like my very existence was poisoning me and everyone around me. I HATED being awake because all I could do was die inside, until I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, then it would be time to sleep where I could relive every cut all night long. I would wake in the morning, and it would start again. I would wake up and be furious that I woke up to live through another day of hell. I have never hated any other human being, as much as I hated myself.

I hated myself for being out of my own control. I hated myself for being weak and allowing other people to see it. I hated myself for what I knew I must have been doing to all of my boys. I hated myself for wanting to be loved back. For needing it. I hated myself for wanting to not be alone. I felt so small and so broken and dirty. Pathetic. Worthless.

I HATED MYSELF AND MORE THAN ANYTHING. I WANTED ME DEAD.

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CHAPTER 46: UNEXPECTED SAVIOR

Had I not dreamed of my mom, I would be dead right now. My Mom saved 2 lives. Mine and my Granddaughter’s. She came to me early on so that when the time came, I would know what I had to do. Kiea, your great-grandma was looking out for you. I have zero doubt. The day I realized that we would be raising Kiea, I took some ‘me’ time during a midnight shift at work and boxed up my anger and resentment.

There was still enough of me left that I realized that the baby was defenseless and needed me more than I needed to know why. She would always be more important than myself and it felt urgent that I put her always first. At least the boys could speak for themselves; this baby could not.

It also occurred to me that it could be worse. Bob didn’t beat on me, and he had already cheated, so if he cheated again, would it really matter now that it was already done? Once the worst is already done, it’s kind of hard to top that. Also, the price he paid last time he thought he was slick, may have been food for thought.

I didn’t think it would hurt me the same if he were to cheat again because I no longer cared. I had to refocus all my energy on raising this little girl and these boys, and other than providing for them, I couldn’t allow anything else to matter. So, that’s what I did. It’s difficult to learn new job skills when your mind is swimming all over the place all the time, but I did manage.

I worked at an old county home that provided care to special needs people. I have actually worked in many of these types of facilities over the years.

Then I worked at a doctor’s office in Stuart, Iowa, and that was good. The girl who already worked there was super smart, and I learned so much from her. The patients were mostly awesome, and I really did like that job. While we lived in Guthrie Center, Bob’s mom, Mary, died from leukemia. I still loved Bob even throughout all the mess, and seeing him broken was so hard. Mary was always so wonderful to me and I will miss her every day.

I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for my husband and boys. Then we moved from Guthrie Center to Ankeny, Iowa. Shortly afterward, his father, Bill, passed. One of the last things he said before passing was that Bob had stopped by with his girlfriend and we had taken him out for a ride. Then he said, “You know; I always liked his girlfriend.” That so broke my heart because we should have been there! We should have taken him out for a ride. We were supposed to live in Canada and be a big happy family! We were supposed to help look after them! That was my big, huge, stupid, ridiculous plan. Just to be a part of a loving family again.

I do love them all very much. That family, from our first meeting, folded me into their family as if they had been waiting for me. When we first learned that Mary was ill, I offered to have Bob and the boys deported so he and the boys could be with her at the end. It was the fastest way I could think of to get them home for free. We had no extra money. Bob refused to go, saying that he had chosen to build a life with me here, and he was staying. HE CHOSE ME! ME! Just typing that has me crying. Bob chose to love me! Nobody made him choose me. My family might argue that, because it’s not possible that I can be loved and chosen over all else, right? At least not unless I beat them into submission, that is.

Right? I love Bob; he can be a complex man at times. Other times he can be so simple, but I like that. He is my opposite. He was raised in love and safety. He has never known the sort of life I have lived. He has never once cried himself to sleep. His parents adored their children and treated them as if they were the most thing in the world. Because that’s what children are. I don’t think this world has ever known more loving parents than Bill & Mary Stacey from Sarnia, Ontario. I miss them all the time, and I know Bob does as well.

Until his confession, Bob and I never really bickered or argued. He has always been fun. Pally, we have gotten into so much shit over the years, you wouldn’t even believe! Ok maybe I have gotten Bob into so much shit over the years. I was teaching him about ‘curb shopping’ one night, and we stopped outside of a house that belonged to one of Bob’s co-workers. There was a huge console style television sitting on the curb. You know the kind; they look like a cabinet and weigh like a zillion pounds.

So I pulled up and told Bob to jump out and grab the TV and put it in the backseat of my convertible. I had a severe back injury at the time. Lol He jumped out of the car and was struggling to pick up this monster TV when I laid on the horn and started flashing my brights! His head shot up, and he looked like a deer in my headlights, lmao! Pally, I wish you could have seen him trying to run with that huge TV! It didn’t even occur to him to drop the damned thing! It took him like 5 minutes to get it loaded with me blasting my horn the entire time!

Another time, it was winter, and the plows had piled up the snow really high in a store parking  where we had been shopping. As we were leaving, I was blinded by the sunlight and lightly bumped the car in front of me. I got out of the car to exchange information, and Bob was standing next to me. Then the woman who owned the other car said something about calling the police, and when I looked up, Bob was gone! He was walking to the nearby variety store! Lol

He is freaked out by cops and most other uniforms. I don’t even think he was comfortable with me when we were playing ‘sexy cop!’ Lolol! The drive to Iowa, when moving there, was pretty uneventful and exhausting. We stopped just outside of Des Moines for the night, and I called my family to let them know that we had made it that far. That night, Karen came to visit, and early the next morning, Dora came. Both visits were really good. I had been missing my sisters more than I realized.

The following day, we made it to Johnston, Iowa. As I said before, we didn’t stay at this house for very long, but this house became very important to me for another reason that I couldn’t have possibly foreseen.

When we moved to Ankeny, Iowa 3 years later, I started looking into my mom’s car accident. It turns out that the house in Johnston was about one block from where my mom died. I had no way of knowing this beforehand. As I told you, talking about my mom was a big no-no. Remember earlier when I mentioned that I had dreamed of my mom and that dream saved my life?

While we lived in Johnston, I think that is where my nervous breakdown peaked. During this time, my dreams were vivid and detailed like I’d never had before.

One night, I dreamed that I had left the children’s photo albums in Canada. The dream seemed so real that I sat straight up in bed in a panic and was gasping for air because, in my dream, I knew I had to go back to get them, and that is where I got hurt, so in my dream, I was in a panic. When I sat up in bed, I woke Bob up and told him about my dream.

I had no sooner finished telling him when a stack of boxes fell out of our closet, and both photo albums slid clear across the floor, stopping right next to the bed! It had to be a good 20 feet!

The next night, I dreamed of my mom.

We were sitting at a small round table next to a window with sheer white curtains. I think there was a valance, a ruffle, or an edging that had small red cherries on it. We were having a cup of coffee. I could see the steam rising from the cups. The cups were sitting on small plates, and there was a matching plate of cookies in the center of the table.

I remember wondering at the crisp clarity of the crumbs on that small plate. I saw a blue glass ashtray that cast its blue-stained image across the white tabletop as the sun shone through it. There was a lit cigarette sitting in it, and the sunlight coming through the window was shining through the smoke as it curled lazily upward, and I could smell the smoke from it on the breeze from the window, which also felt amazing as it came inside. Everything was hyper-real, if that makes sense. I could smell her perfume.

Lol, I smell it still.

Although she wasn’t touching me, I felt warm and comfortable sitting with her. I told her that I didn’t want to do this anymore. I told her that every day I would wake up so damned angry because I had lived through another night, which meant that I would have to live through another day of my life. Mom sat there looking at me quietly, letting me vent and maybe even cry. The sun was playing with the lights in her hair and eyes, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was. Just sitting there with her, in a dream, I felt more comfortable than I ever have in real life.

Mom slid her hand across the small table and placed it lightly on mine. Her hand felt warm and soft. It felt like home. I felt instantly soothed. Calm. I felt at peace. It was the most beautiful feeling. She was still looking at me quietly, and I waited for her to speak. I don’t know why, but I realized that tears were running down my face, but I wasn’t crying. Mom spoke to me, and her voice sounded much like my own but not quite. She told me that my son was going to be a father soon. She said a little girl was going to be born. She wasn’t going to be healthy and was going to need my help. Mom told me that she knew I was in pain and she was sorry for that. Mom told me that I needed a purpose and that my granddaughter’s needs would outweigh my pain. She said that this baby girl and I would save each other.

We spoke about many things, but mostly about how my feelings must take a back seat now. When my mom spoke, her voice was soft but crystal clear and firm. She meant to be heard and she meant to be understood. That voice though. I had tried so hard when I was small, to hold on to her face, her touch and her voice. At times, they escaped me but always came back when I was most at need.

The sound of that most beloved voice; the very first voice I heard when I was born and spent months listening to even before that; it was delicious. Then, when she lay her hand on mine; the sensation was the most uplifting experience I have ever known. It washed over/through my body like fresh, icy water on parched skin. Her everything completely enveloped me in bliss. Unparalleled bliss. Thinking of it even now, my breath catches in my throat and tears flow freely.

My mom told me that I was stronger than I knew and, the way I was feeling was temporary so, the why of it didn’t matter in the end. All that mattered was my purpose. Mom told me that I had many purposes that I had yet to fulfill and that she knew I would do the right thing. Looking back now, I can’t remember how the dream ended, but I will never forget how her hand felt on mine or the way her voice felt like salvation.

When I woke up (not angry for once), I told Bob everything. He thought that was strange and was reminded of another strange happening, we had before we left Canada. Bob and I were driving in Port Huron and we drove past a used furniture store. In the front window of the store was a baby cradle that looked exactly like the one that my dad bought when I was born! So, I pulled in and bought it even though we had no babies in our family. It was spontaneous, and I had no money in my checking account when I wrote the check to buy it, but something told me I needed to do this. So, I did. Kiea did use that little cradle, and I still have it in the basement for the her baby if she likes.

After returning to Iowa, Dora told me that when Em remarried the first time; that wife made him burn all my stuff, so I would imagine everything that was my mom’s was destroyed. But that’s the way it goes sometimes, no use in stressing about it now. Besides; that dream was worth a million photos. When Shaun woke up that same morning, I told him about my dream. Two months later, Shaun told me that he was going to be a father, and I started buying baby girl clothes. Only girl clothes. Shaun’s new wife thought I was nuts, lol, but I didn’t care. I knew the baby was a girl.

I had no doubt.

Sure enough, when Kiea was born, she was meconium-stained, and one of her lungs collapsed. The doctor got her lung reinflated, and she spent about a month in NICU at Mercy Hospital. About a month after she was released from the hospital, we were told that Kiea’s left kidney wasn’t growing. She was put on a compound blood pressure medication. She took that medication for probably six months or so until I started raising her and took her off of it as she had no history of presenting with elevated blood pressure ever. She has been fine since then.

Around that time, Shaun’s wife was trying to stir up trouble to get the younger boys in trouble. She told Shaun that the boys kept staring at her chest. When he came to me about it, I told him to tell his big-titted wife that a sports bra isn’t a shirt! If she is going to be walking around the house in her underwear, they are going to look! DUH! Shaun handled the situation like a grown man, and I was so proud of him. However, on our youngest son’s birthday (she knew it was his birthday too), she was whining to Shaun that the other two boys were changing the thermostat.

I don’t know why Shaun reacted to this the way he did, but he came down the stairs just as our youngest son was changing the thermostat FOR ME! On his BIRTHDAY! Timing, right? Anyway, Shaun just hauled off and punched that boy in his face, and I went off! I told Shaun that these boys were his brothers and he would do well to remember that. I told him that he was letting his wife stir up trouble, and I wouldn’t stand for it. He knew he messed up, but I didn’t care. I was pissed. Shaun went back upstairs, and as soon as he did, I snagged up his guitar, coffin case, and amp; loaded the two youngest boys up in the van, and we left for Des Moines where I hocked Shaun’s stuff. That was the only time I have EVER taken something from one of my kids, but Shaun was buying his youngest brother supper on his birthday.

They didn’t pay as much as I was hoping they would, but we took the boys out so at least Cor could have a nice birthday supper. Then we drove around for a really long time while I tried to figure out what to do next because after supper was paid for, it didn’t leave enough cash for a hotel room. Finally, I called my dad and asked him if the boys could stay the night there. Dad agreed, so Bob and I took them to Dad’s house and got them settled in for the night. Dad offered for us to stay there, but I declined, and I will tell you why in a bit.

So, Bob and I parked the minivan a half block away in an alley and settled in for the night. It didn’t take long before somebody called the police on these two trouble-making adults sleeping, viciously, in a grocery getter in the alley behind their house. All looking like serial soccer moms and shit. Hell, I would have called the cops too! Anyway, we moved 2 blocks over and went back to sleep. Lol!

The reason that I didn’t want to stay at my dad’s house is because the night that we arrived in Des Moines from Canada, we stopped at Mom and Dad’s house first. I had only seen them one other time since I left Iowa.

Well, when Bob started using emotional warfare on me, I figured, ‘When in Rome,’ and I followed suit. It turns out that I have a real talent for that because within one hour, I had made him punch a wall hard enough to break his wrist.

So, when we got to Iowa and went inside my parents’ house, Mom, always quick on the draw, asks Bob, “Did Shaney do that to you?” This was her first time ever meeting or speaking to him! Lmao! Now, even though that did give me pause, I did my best to move past it like it didn’t happen.

Mostly because I’m cool like that. Bob and I sat down at the kitchen table with Mom and Dad. Shaun took the boys and everybody else into the living room, just off of the kitchen. I can’t recall what we were talking about, but it had to do with Shaun being like me. As soon as it was said, Mom turned around to me and said, “Shaun will NEVER be like you!” And she wasn’t whispering. She spat it out at me like I was some sort of vermin!

She doesn’t even KNOW my son! I excused myself and went out to the car. I had returned home the year before for a visit and they were wonderful to me so WTF is this about?

Showing off for the new guy at my expense; again.

That’s all it has ever been about and don’t you dare roll your eyes at me or we can have a deep meaningful conversation about an old Long John Silver’s employee and your girls high school boyfriend, named~whoopsie!

I nearly spilled the tea there.

But we could, lol.

Couldn’t we?

See? This is me showing off for Pally when I say;

“That was more embarrassing than my school grades by a long shot. My grades didn’t make me look like a desperate old lady.”

Don’t you just hate when someone picks up the stones you throw at them and throws them back at you?

Dad, believe me when I say you never had a thing to worry about. He, who shall not be named, never even noticed lol. He was oblivious to the flirtation, lmao! It was sad and painful to watch.

NOW THINK ABOUT MY NEXT WORDS VERY CAREFULLY.

Do you now see how horrible life could be, if I acted like you; towards you???? ALL THE TIME?

This is how I have been living my entire life with you. It’s damned hard.

So please, for the love of titties, just knock it off! Grow the hell up and please act like you have some kind of sense!

Back to whatever I was going on about.

Right, lol My Bobby.

Bob, who has never been one to take a cue when I need him to, stayed in the house. facepalm I don’t know why; lol. That’s my Bob. Anyway, I sat in my car thinking about just driving away and leaving everyone there when Mom came out with Karen right on her heels. Yay 2 me…

Pally, do you remember that Looney Tunes cartoon with Spike the bulldog? He always has this little Chihuahua named Chester jumping around him asking “What are we gonna do now Spike? What are we gonna do?”. That’s what they remind me of. A damned cartoon only with zero entertainment factor and a hint of toxins. I think maybe Mom likes having someone around to compare notes with later. I can get on board with that. Pppffffttt! It’s so petty. So now, three of us are in the car, and of course, they do love to underestimate me.

(Pally, at this point you are in charge of cueing music lol)

They start asking me questions, and I start making sure they get the kind of answers they were looking for. Mostly because I’m cool like that too, but also because it’s none of their business. They were preying on my pain like vampires, and I was unappreciative.

If you can’t find one consistency in my family, I will give you one right here: I can always count on them to kick the ever lovin’ fuck out of me when I’m are down. Or, amusingly enough, when they think you are down. Just because you see me stumbling; don’t be stupid enough to assume I have fallen. I’ve only stumbled.

Pally; if you could permit me to tell you a little story that I hope might serve as an example?

Very good! Thank you my dear friend! I had a period of time where I was suffering from depression, and I knew it. I also knew that I wouldn’t get past it until Shaun moved out.

Because he wouldn’t allow me to speak to Kiea about school or anything else, and I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere with her or do anything with her because he would come upstairs screaming and swearing at me and breaking stuff while talking to me like I was some mongrel that just pissed on HIS floor.

Bob and I have supported his ass until he was 36 and this was MY home. But I let him do whatever he wanted, because if I stood up to him, he would turn hateful to Kiea to punish me.

Meanwhile, that little bag of sweetness was living in OUR basement until he was like 36 and doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING with her unless he was trying to impress a new girlfriend; otherwise, he had little use for her at all.

He only took pics of himself with her to snag pussy and that’s a fact. He also told me that all of us are there to be USED by him! If I didn’t have anything he could use me for, He would have no use for me! But I was a bad mom? Damn, maybe I was, or he would be a better son and dad.

Oh well; spilled milk and all that. I say my kids survived to adulthood so I guess I could have had Uncle Leland raise them instead!!!

Looks like I wasn’t so bad after all, you little self-absorbed brats! I still say that he started this insanity after he became an adult, so if I was so horrible, he maybe should have strapped on his big daddy pants and got a home of his own for him and his daughter.

Seems to me that you would be considered an abusive father abandoning your baby to your evil Mommy.

I told you son, you either grow TF up and give me back MY SON; or I will lay your shit out bare. Scream it from the rooftops he said. Ok. Foolish man.

My son has never ever, not one single time, ever in his entire life, ever done one single thing I asked him to do. My son has NEVER EVER, lived alone for one single day of his life. He has never moved out unless it was with someone else. I think he would have been a much better father had he started out with just him and Kiea so they could get used to each other, but he decided to live in the same house with her for YEARS yet remain a stranger then blame it on me. He says he felt micro-managed while he was here. He was! I wouldn’t allow him to take his kidney effected daughter out in dangerous heat.

He decided to do it anyway and she started projectile vomiting everywhere! This, of course, he blames on me for micro-managing, and he is correct because the last time I caved in to one of his tirades, he damn near killed her! Every time he would play with her she would get hurt. All kids who have EVER been around him have complained that he had hurt them.

But what do I know? I kinda wanna kick your ass as I am sitting here typing this, Shaun.

I am so hurt and angry with you. If you don’t feel ashamed, you should get therapy even if you blame me for everything; get help. Back on point. Apologies, Pally.

So, during the depression time, I put on a lot of weight. Right after that, Dora must have been in the market for brownie points with Dad or something, but that’s when she asked Dad, “Wait, wasn’t there four of us?” Thanks again, Dora. I do hope to return that trip under the bus to you someday! Lmao! As luck would have it, that was also the time that Dora started posting her yearly wedding stuff on Facebook. I know Dora, and if someone didn’t just step up and handle it, she was NEVER going to get around to the wedding thing, and after so many years, it was feeling a little sad. So, I did what any moronic big sister would do. I got ordained and called her to tell her it was time to put her money where her mouth was. They set a date. I got fluffier than I’ve ever been the night before and forgot to show up on the wedding day! Lol! She called me, and Bob and I jumped in the car and flew to Boone.

Before I could even get out of the car, I knew what was up. Do people actually believe that they are being subtle? So, I am looking through the windshield just in time to see Mom nearly trip herself up trying to get up from the picnic table with her camera ready on her phone. She’s got her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth and the funniest, nastiest grin you could hope for. Again, Dora, thanks. Dora had told Mom that I had gotten fat, and she needed pics, but I couldn’t figure out why until I noticed that Karen wasn’t in attendance. That tracks. So, the wedding was performed, and Bob and I dipped out before the ink was dry because the negative vibes are always a bit much for me. Besides, I left my fluffy stuff at home when I rushed out the door and we just can’t have that! Huh-Uh! That just won’t play with me; so back home we go! After the wedding thingy, I let Dora get into my head, which makes me think it was likely an indica-flavored month. Mhm!

CHAPTER 47: LOUD OBNOXIOUS PISS FILLED BIRTHDAY

I had convinced myself that I wanted to have a sleepover with my three sisters for my birthday. NOTE TO ALL: NEVER ALLOW ME TO DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. THANK YOU. I realized that a sleepover might be much because we are grown and whatever, but the idea was to have a fun, relaxing night with my sisters. I spent LITERALLY WEEKS telling Dora how I wanted no talk of the past for just this one night and all baggage and grievances need to be left at the door. FOR JUST ONE NIGHT That little suck-ass was all agreeable until we were all in one room. Then, not five minutes go by, and when Karen asks me what the spray bottle is for, I’m trying to tell her it’s for stopping negative talk and talk of the past. I couldn’t believe it when DORA reached right across the table, took the bottle from my hand, and said loudly, “Well, I do want to talk about the past!” O.O Damn It!!!

I thought, “What is this?” Then Karen chimed in, saying, “I do too.” I am a complete idiot. I should have known better. They are family=only a moron would trust them=Shaney is a moron. After that, I figured it was no longer my birthday party (as if it ever was). I sat there and listened while getting frustrated, until I heard Karen say that what Dora and I went through wasn’t abuse.

Ok, enough of that shit.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT WHAT I WENT THROUGH? Not one thing, so respectfully, stfu, Karen! I took abuse FOR you! You people are SO TOXIC! You act like you know everything yet you know nothing at all! I didn’t say any of that, and if I had, nobody would have heard me anyway because they never do. Instead, I slammed my hands down on the table and said, “Enough!” Karen thought she would stand as well and even took a step closer to me, bringing her face up to mine.

(Lol, Baby girl, please. You step up on me, and at that moment, you stop being my sister and just become my next victim, so I suggest you think hard. Because I won’t be thinking at all. This is not a threat. This is a fact because I won’t stop myself. Not anymore; not for anyone.)

Just before I did the ‘big confrontation’ with Karen, I remember thinking to myself, ‘Ooooo right up in my face! I know this dance; it’s my favorite. I’ve been so bored for so long. Let’s do this. ’ So Karen kept getting louder and louder, trying to talk over me, and I just said screw it and jumped right into a loud scream because nobody bullies me, especially in my own home. Dora went upstairs and brought Bob downstairs, and his first reaction was, “This is done.” I told him no, they could stay.

I regretted that decision within 5 minutes.

By the time Bob and I got back upstairs, my sisters had all gone to the garage to smoke. I opened the garage door and saw Dora and Felicia squatting down and pissing on my garage floor. After they left, we found out that one of them tried to pick the lock on my bedroom door, nearly destroying the doorknob and someone left their teeth! But I’M the one that’s so messed up? Okie dokie.

This, Pally, is my family. RUN! That was the only birthday party I remember ever having. Thanks, fam! Awesome. But there’s something wrong with me, they say. ‘I don’t know why Shaney is the way she is.’ Really? Alrighty. I am pretty positive that I wasn’t born this way. I am positive that I came out a normal little girl.

HOW DARE YOU CREATE A MONSTER AND THEN COMPLAIN ABOUT THE WAY IT TURNED OUT? It turned out exactly as you had planned; damaged, dark and angry. I have never known nurturing of any kind on any level since my birth Grandma, and that is a FACT. Mom says to Bob, “Well, we might not be the most loving family but…” I wanted to see how that sentence was going to end, but it didn’t. It just kind of faded away.

Like me. If they would just let me. Sometimes I believe that they don’t think I feel anything. Or maybe it’s that I shouldn’t have the right to feel anything. I’m not sure. The only thing that I am sure about is that their feelings must have way more value than,  mine, because that’s all that matters.

Sadly, my children are right in that same boat with them, but that’s alright. Bob actually told me once that the story of my life is so outlandish that he was convinced I was lying for years. He told me the other day that he now knows better after Helen’s remains were identified and I started remembering everything. Also, seeing my sisters at peak performance was convincing as well.

CHAPTER 48: WHAT-IFS  & ATTAINABLE SKILLS

I think about all of the what-ifs and no matter which way I look at them, it seems as if this was always the only possible way that it could have gone. Maybe I had to go through all of this to stop this insane cycle my family is in. Maybe I just have bad luck; who knows? I do know this much: I could never have survived the streets without everything I learned throughout my upbringing. The good and the bad. I know this is going to sound stupid, but it gave me willpower and endurance and more survival skills than I would have had otherwise. Why did I need these skills? Because of the path I was on.

That impatient grocery store mom was dragging the toddler me after Helen, maybe since I was born. Definitely since that day with Helen. I have given this a lot of thought and the timing of it all is too weird. It almost feels like I left my family and went up north to pick up a Canadian and his kids and came back here early enough to become a mother-in-law and a grandmother just in time to identify Helen’s killers.

Weird, right?

My original plan was to never return to Iowa again. Ever. Yet, here I am! Sure, it could be a coincidence. I don’t think so.

Now, I will begin reading from the very first word and I will fill in as many blanks as I can.

I was telling Bob last night that if I waited to publish this book after the memories stop returning, it may never get published. We will see, won’t we, Pally?

I have spent the last few days proofreading what I have written so far and I have to say that I’m not sure that my world will be of interest to anyone, so I don’t know if this will sell.

What do you think, Pally? Now that I have been opening boxes and letting it out, I have been feeling a bit disconnected, untethered and a bit hollow.

I have never published a book before, so this is a little bit daunting as I am not sure where to begin. It’s not just that I don’t know where to begin; it’s also that I am second-guessing myself about publishing this. Should I just do it? Should I wait until Mom and Dad are passed? Should I throw it in the fire pit? I do this to myself all the time. I mess things up so that nobody else gets hurt.

Nobody but me, lol. I need to stop looking out for others more than I do for myself and maybe this book is how I begin that process. So, what if I publish this and I get ostracized by my family and the book doesn’t sell? Now, I spilled the tea and I’m still dirt farmer poor.

See? This is me processing, lol. It’s a janky process but having been invented by a 10-year-old, I think it could be much worse.

I haven’t completed the proofreading yet, so over the next few days, I will be working on that.

Afterward, I will do my best to find an editor and publisher.

MY FAM DAMNLY Pally, I have to tell you; most days I wish you could talk back to me and advise me because you are probably much smarter than I am and you have the advantage of being on the outside of my life, looking in, so you may have a better perspective. I would ask Bob, but he is a, “Whatever you want, baby,” kind of guy, lol. Wish me luck, Pally, I will be needing it!

My parents just returned from their trip to Italy and Spain.

I can’t tell you how glad I am that they are traveling. They deserve it. Both of my parents said that the coliseum was magnificent and even emotional when you consider the people before you who walked the very same path you are now walking. Nero, Caesar, and the gladiators.

The history. I can’t imagine. It must have been breathtaking. My sister Karen usually accompanies my parents on their trips and she has for many years. I know that my other two sisters have a little issue regarding this, but I see it like this: I am glad that Mom and Karen are besties!

I’m glad that Dad is best buddies with Karen’s husband, Pat. I am glad that my parents have had their companionship all these years because I want them to be happy. I don’t care how they are happy; only that they are. I don’t care how many trips Mom and Dad paid for. It’s just money! These are our parents.

Yeah, I am glad that my mom and dad had Karen and Matt all this time. I know that one of my sisters is a little bit upset about never being invited on one of these trips. My advice? Suck it up and walk it off. None of this is about you. It’s about what is best for Mom and Dad, and in my opinion, that would be Karen and Matt because they have always been there for them.

Enough about all that mess, lol, that’s just how I feel about it. I’ve been thinking about the publication of this book and I am considering releasing it a chapter at a time, maybe on TikTok or YouTube.

Oh, Pally, I would so love to hear your feedback on this because my confidence is in the toilet and has been for many years now. I’m not sure when or how it happened, but that’s where I am.

When did I become such a coward? I was hoping that getting all of this out of me would be empowering, but instead, I feel anxious and unfocused. Maybe I could get some feedback from that YouTube guy who said that empaths develop during childhood traumas. I don’t know.

Being an introvert has its advantages, but times like this it leaves me at a great disadvantage. I wasn’t always an introvert. This was a little bonus gift that came right around the time menopause did. Even just sitting down with anyone outside of the norm, to have a thirty-minute conversation is thoroughly exhausting. It will be at least one full day before I am feeling 100%. I find people to be fake, confusing, and unkind.

I am not a huge fan of the human race. Since the beginning of Covid, or maybe before, this world began to cave in on itself. When I say this, I am not referring to the planet, although it would apply, I am referring to human beings as a whole. We destroy everything we touch. We even destroy one another.

JUNE 5, 2024~Happy Birthday, Sammy. I love you.

Yesterday I was a bit off due to not ordering my Levoxyl on time. I do this too often. So three days without it, so now it’s like starting over with it. Sometimes, I think our bodies need a short break from all the chemicals we pump into them. Anyway, for the past few days, I have been feeling melancholy. Reminiscing has been both good and bad for me.

I feel slightly lighter for having gotten it all out of me, but it has also left me feeling like I have no direction. No purpose.

After all of these years of carrying around these memories, now that I’m not busy keeping them hidden, it feels like I’m left with an entire workforce inside my head and they are all standing around with nothing to do and I don’t know what to tell them.

It’s got me feeling anxious like I usually feel just before trouble starts. I have decided that I am going to publish this. I know the price I will pay for publishing it and I have decided that I am willing to pay it. I have spent most of my life alone.

Publishing this book isn’t for or about anybody but me; because of that, I will move forward. My biggest worry is that this publication will hurt my Dad’s health. I am positive that Mom can bounce back from anything but Dad is another story. His health is poor and that worries me more than I can say. I could wait until after he passes but I’m torn.

It’s times like this that I wish Shaun was still my son. He is beyond smart in every subject except himself and other people.

I could ask him anything and he’d never steer me wrong. He sees everything from all angles at the same time. My son is brilliant. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what his life could have been like and everything he could have been had he been raised in perfect circumstances.

I often wonder if perfect circumstances exist for anyone.

Right now, I need friends or family to talk to. To speak of my concerns about publishing this book, to another human being other than Bob isn’t likely to happen.

I have kept myself secluded in my home for five years or more. I don’t often go anywhere. When I spend too much time in public, inevitably some stranger will walk up and start talking to me. I am fine with this sometimes, but always, there is this little nudge in my mind that says ‘Walk away.’ I cannot let anyone else in. I won’t let anyone else in. I learn from my mistakes. Usually. Me letting people in? That has always been my Achilles heel.

Nothing good ever came from me letting another human being become attached to me or me to them. That’s a simple fact. If I love you? Yeah, you can pretty much kiss your ass goodbye because it won’t end well. No idea why this is my path, lol. I’m not even sure that I care anymore.

These last few days have felt like putting in prison time. I feel stuck, with zero momentum. My pendulum isn’t swinging anymore and time has stopped. I hate this feeling.

So, in the spirit of all that, I am going to dress up in my fluffiest summer-wear and see if I can’t adjust this attitude. CHAPTER 49: IT’S DECIDED

Yes, I know I lied and didn’t come back. I apologize but I’m back now with an announcement.

Are you ready, Pally? Are you sitting down?

Here it is.

I have decided that I am going to publish this book and I will tell you why. Two days ago, Bob went to my son Shaun and asked him how long this mother-son feud was going to be going on because I was driving him nuts (I have been). Shaun replied that everyone respects him there and they are happy and nobody has to walk on eggshells because of me, so he wasn’t going to change, and I do not get to see my grandchildren.

OK. That was one trigger.

Then, also two days ago, my Dad called me to tell me that he was diagnosed with macular degeneration and because it is genetic, his doctor told him to call family to tell them about a vitamin we need to start taking at age 50.

I tried to ask him to call my daughter to tell her as well, but he got all confused and I didn’t think he understood what I was asking. So, this morning I called Mom. I asked her to please tell Sammy about her grandfather’s medical condition and that it is genetic. She needs to know this for herself and her children. Mom started muttering about “Well if I hear from her…you know”; and I’d just had enough of the games. So I just told her, “Look, I know you all talk to her and I’m fine with that; I am! This is her health we are talking about. Please call her!” Mom said she would and I thanked her and hung up.

It was several minutes before I realized that I was shaking head to toe. Seriously? Why? Just why? I don’t understand anyone. So, if those who are supposed to love me and want the best for me, want to play games; FINE. I am long over due to be off the bench anyway.

Let’s do this! I am going to publish this book one way or another because if you want to act like you have something over on me because you talk to MY daughter?

HOW DARE YOU! You might want to ask yourselves where in the hell you were for THE FIRST 14 YEARS OF HER LIFE!

My kids don’t know you and you don’t know them, and that was YOUR choice.

If you think about it’s the same ay with Dora’s kids.

Go ahead and pat your own back some more; hell pat it until your arm snaps off, it doesn’t change the truth.

Because until I left Emery, none of you knew my kids AT ALL, so stick that right up your self-righteous asses.

I have decided that if my feelings hold no value for you, then you have no business whining about your feelings, to me or because of me.

You see; it’s like this.

If I didn’t love you; nothing that you do could hurt me because you and your actions would hold no value to me.

You are so blinded by your own insecurities to see that if it hurts me this badly; I must love you a tremendous amount.

But you aren’t blind and you neve have been. So that could only mean that you know how much I love you and you use it against me.

Why?

All of this. Helen, the hate, the anger, the jealousy; it all makes me feel physically ill because all of it was avoidable.

None of this was ever necessary.

We were just little and we hadn’t done anything wrong,

So why?

See? Even now I am giving you all the leverage. All the power. Because I need to know why someone I love so much can hurt me so badly.

Because I do love you. ALL OF YOU.

I forgive you everything and I always have.

But the girl you love beating up has been dead for a long time.

Once I got to Ottumwa, I didn’t need a reason to leave.

I didn’t leave because of any of you.

I promised Helen.

I promised I would find her, remember?

I promised that if anything happened to her that I would tell anyone who would listen that it was Uncle Leland.

It was Uncle Leland who killed her. I hope that someone is still listening.

I wore this like skin for all of these years and when the news came out, my family’s reaction was nothing less than I have come to expect.

Except for my Dad.

He didn’t turn me away this time.

My dad told me, “Shaney, you do whatever you need to do so that you can live with yourself.”

I am sobbing as I type this because I am so grateful for him right now.

I do believe he saved my life.

THANK YOU DAD. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

So, everyone else; save it. I don’t want to hear it. I’M OUT.

ADDENDUM: Since I started writing this book in April 2024; My family has suffered the following losses.

My brother-in-law, shot himself, ending his own life. My Cousin Donnie; his daughter Michele Jackson, 17, was brutally murdered while riding her scooter. Another cousin, she died alone, on the side of the road.

I just want to recognize their lives here because; well because, everybody was somebody’s baby once.

About The Author Shaney

I am a person who values honesty, integrity, loyalty, honor, and respect. My journey is one of self-discovery, embracing my true self beyond roles and responsibilities.

I have experienced love, loss, suffering, happiness, trial, error, indifference, death, unexplainable events, and mourning, which have all shaped who I am today.

I am determined, observant, and resourceful, with a knack for survival and improvisation.

I cherish the simple joys in life, like gardening and enjoying the sunshine, and I have a deep appreciation for beauty, whether it’s in a well-tended flower bed or an overgrown artist studio.

Family is incredibly important to me. I am proud of all of my kids and see so much of myself in their resilience and tenacity.

I treasure the moments of love and connection with my children and hold dear the memories of our time together.

I am also a person who can find humor in life’s absurdities and maintain a lighthearted perspective, even in challenging times.

My relationships, although often short lived, are meaningful, and I value the sense of closeness they bring.

Despite the hardships, I continue to move forward, always striving to understand myself better and live authentically. My story is one of strength, love, and an unwavering spirit.