First conscious lesson

I have a story to tell. It’s my story. I’ve learned many great lessons…sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Some easy, some very, very difficult. But it’s my story and my lessons. I’d like to share them with you in hopes that you will – 1. Know that you are not alone, and 2. Know that you will make it through. Grab the lessons by the balls and hold on tight.

(proceed with caution…graphic reality ahead)

My first conscious lesion:

I was 13 years old. My mother was fighting with my 14 year old sister. My oldest brother was trying to prevent blood shed. We finally confronted her about our abuser who was sitting at the table, smoking his cigarette, drinking a cocktail…as if nothing was happening 2 feet from his ashtray and the dining room table. My mother didn’t want to hear it. My mother…she was raging…louder and louder… Then, my mother kicked my sister out. Told her to “get your shit, and get out”. Sister grabbed what she could and headed for the door. “Oh no you don’t…you’re not going to embarrass me by walking down the fucking street. I’ll take you to the bus station and you can go wherever the fuck you want.” And by God she did…11:00 o’clock at night – down to the Greyhound bus station, gave her $40.00 bucks cash, and she was gone…my sister was gone…just like that…gone. I later learned my sister went to the counter, asked how far she could go with $40.00. Seems she got off the bus in Raleigh, NC at 3:00am. She slept in a ditch that night. The next day, she found the carnival…but that’s her story.

I learned my first conscious lesson that night. A life lesson. A survival skill. Kept me a live for many years…then, nearly killed me.

The lesson? Keep your mouth shut about the dirt. Don’t tell anyone. Tell them only what they want to hear. Or I’d be homeless too. Went to bed that night and the covert became the overt. I was officially on my own. If it was to be, it was up to me. Survival mode was in full swing. For the next 30 plus years, I groveled and begged for a family that never existed…much to my detriment.

I later learned it’s called “people pleasing”. Which sounded a whole lot better than what I called it…which was “fucked up”.