My Life in My Own Words

A Glance at Terror

As I reflect on my life, my struggles are very real. They are piercing and often very dark and painful at times. I battle with listening to folks telling me how perfectly imperfect and insane I was, all because I was born to the wrong bloodline. I was cursed to a blood line of adulterers, hurters and the greatest sinners. I was doomed from conception. I was a spirit on the other side of the realm hoping and praying for my second chance at life and there she was - my beloved mother from the Mississippi Bangs. All hopeless and pretty she was as she raised her several children into a world of deceit, betrayal, pain and hatred, in its most terrible despair.

Here’s my story, the blood truth. Living my life every moment to eat and survive. From the day I was born, I don’t think a motherfucker gave a damn about me. No one ever had any intentions to feed or cloth me and I am doubtful that they thought about teaching me about life and its struggles - the good, the bad and the very ugly; or how to conquer stillness or have faith in the midst of hardship and struggles. The day my sorrows began, I was too young to remember it. Most times my life felt like a mystery, as though I was in a dream - a deep dream, one that I couldn’t wake from. One that I fought so hard to wake from only to open my eyes to the horrors of the world. A world full of crying tears of pain and sorrows. This is the story of the reality that is my life, in all its pain, trial and glory.

My neighborhood was a cold fend-for-yourself kind of place. Everyone that lived there did more surviving than living. Growing up living such a hard life, I now battle with trying to be the perfect mother and the woman that has it all under control. That’s one thing that I could still do is hold my own while in the midst of great adversity. However, life catches up with you and no longer could I pretend to have it all together. Reality came knocking and eventually kicked down the door and left me speechless. Life happened. My struggles made me feel awful and to make matters worse, I am still here trying to survive. Let’s get real. I am not ashamed to admit my tragedies. The only sadness that I have is that I wish my child; nieces and nephews would not ever have to read this, because I am not proud of any of it. I was born to a woman that had given birth to six children before I arrived. She was a very carefree woman; confused about life and what it meant to be responsible and the things it required of her to maintain a civil and decent life for her and her children.

My mother was very neglectful towards her children. She always lived her life focusing on her own needs and wants, mostly ignoring her children’s needs. She lived and ran her life as though she was on a battlefield; fighting warfare with great anticipation, never knowing if she was going to return home safe and sound.

Welcoming You - Life happens when the good the bad and the ugly is presented, when one gets a taste of the madness I guess but then again it is possible that some of us have been troubled from the start of conception. You are what you see but then again you can be what you imagine.

My mother often told my siblings and me about the horror stories she had experienced in the south growing up in the heart of Mississippi. One of her stories was how she had to pick cotton in order to survive and put food on the table to feed her several young children. While she worked in the cotton field, her eldest daughter took care of her younger siblings several times a week and for hours on end while my mother worked the field. My eldest sister was no older than seven years old when she had to care and feed all of her siblings while my mother worked the field. My sister cared for us with great love and sacrifice.

My mom always said that her life in Mississippi was far from ideal. She was beaten often, practically every day by her mother who would also eventually abandon her. Her most vivid recollection of her mother was that she would starve her for days on end. Her mother forced her to drink sugar water to lessen/ease her hunger urges. The last bit of sanity that she had left was taken away when her father attempted to rape her and later when her mother hit her in the head with the back of an axe, causing a large gash in her head which bled profusely. It is said by my mother’s sister that my grandmother once told my mother that if she ever abused her child in front of her ever again, she was going to kill her and leave her for dead. My mother’s sister also said that one day my mother flung my eldest brother, who was a newborn at the time, into the air, nearly causing him to land on a car before my grandmother caught him. It turns out that my grandmother went through with the initial threat that she made to my mother earlier on. After the incident occurred with my oldest brother, my grandmother went into her home, got an axe and hit my mother head on, leaving her for dead. She, however, survived the dangerous assault.