When it gets really hot outside I often think of the trailer days. It's going to be a high of 103 today. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to be inside at work in air conditioning and will go home to a delightfully cool house. However I spent my childhood with fans, cold showers, and ice water.
Growing up in a hot trailer made me a night person. At night I could be play and not feel like I was going to die or be blinded from sweat in my eyes. Of course being up at night meant that my mom let me watch late night TV with her.
I will always remember the night we watched Cat's Eye. It was hot, of course. The fan was blowing the curtains with hot air. How hot air can feel good, I don't know, but it did. We had a velvet paisley couch to make matters worse. For more than one reason. Our TV was a 19' black and white, complete with antennas wrapped in foil. Surprisingly, foil really does help picture clarity.
But I digress.
It was a hot summer night. No school in the morning of course. Here I am with my mom watching a tiny, ugly, troll monster climb up a blanket, crawl up this little girls body to steal her breath, and kill her. Thank God for the black cat that saved her life! (Must of also been the night I feel in love with cats). With that really being all I can remember from the movie, that was also the night that I became extremely scared of the dark.
From that moment on I was convinced that tiny, ugly troll monster was going to come into my bedroom, climb up my blanket, and kill me. But I had a plan. Of yes. Tiny, ugly troll monster could not climb and kill me if he couldn't get a hold of my blanket. So I tucked my blankets under me as tight as they would go and I would sleep with the blanket over my heat. That is the only way you are totally safe. When you live in a trailer that is 90 degrees at night...sleeping with a blanket over your head takes dedication. Stupid movie.
Another movie my mom let me watch; which let me take a moment and say my mom did not do anything wrong by letting me watch this stuff; was Child's Play.
Mother of Zeus Chucky is one scary doll. AND not to mention he has red hair which really pissed me off. Just in case you we not aware, not all redheaded children are the devil. For example, I was only Satan's spawn through my fourth year.
So yes, I watched Child's Play and promptly decided to get rid of all my dolls because DUH they were going to come to live when I fell asleep and kill me. I already had my blanket disguise for tiny, ugly troll monster but my dolls were different. They could use a knife or something.
So I put all my dolls in a trash bag. I would totally know if they tried to escape because I would see the holes. Oh yeah. And then I put the trash bag in the mushroom room.
The mushroom room was the bedroom next to mine that somehow got really wet, not to mention mildew, and mushrooms started to grow. I shit you not. Real, normally grows in the forest, mushrooms. Not only was it the mushroom, stinky room, it was also the junk room. Take that evil dolls.
I will have to say, I threw away some really cool dolls I wish I had to this day. Well...I take that back. They could still come alive and kill me.
One thing I will be forever grateful for growing up in a trailer park is my wildly awesome imagination.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
A Vicious Cycle
When I was in graduate school I was able to take a family food and nutrition class. In that class I was finally able to put a name to something that my mom and I struggled with while I was growing up, food security.
Having food security means that you have food available, food access, and food use. Food availability is having enough food. Food access is having resources, both economic and physical, to obtain appropriate foods for a nutritious diet. Food use is the appropriate use based on knowledge of basic nutrition and care, as well as adequate water and sanitation.
Food security can further be defined for a household. A household has food security when all members at all times to enough food for an active, healthy life. Food security also includes the availability of nutritionally adequate and safe foods as well as being able to receive food from socially acceptable ways; that is without resorting to emergency food supplies, scavenging, stealing, or other coping strategies.
When I think back to the days when it was just Mom and I, I am positive we did not have food security. There were times all we had left to eat were a few cans of vegetables and powdered milk. I know my mom would go hungry so I could eat all the time. There was more often than not, no way to get to the store besides the long walk. In terms of nutrition it's hard to explain...
I have always been a fruit and vegetable lover. My mom as well. It's not that we never had fruits or vegetables, we did, but they were always canned; because that is what we could afford. Canned vegetables aren't too bad for you but canned fruit in sugar syrup? Yeah...Not to mention when all you have had to eat for a week is canned peas the first item on the grocery list is not usually canned peas.
Since Mom and I never had enough money, not even enough money to eat, when we did have money or food stamps we got a lot of food.
A trip to the grocery store the first of the month my mom loaded our cart. I can remember being so excited to be at the store and my mom let me put in the cart whatever I wanted...which was, come on, junk food. When we had extra money we always went to McDonald's and so our food insecurity turned food into a reward.
My relationship with food has never been normal. I grew up a trailer park kid who's refrigerator was never really full. I grew up with binging on delicious food because I didn't know when I would eat so well again. I grew up going to bed hungry at times because there was nothing to eat. Is it really any surprise that I would eventually develop an eating disorder?
When I look at pictures of myself from childhood I looked like a normal kid. Yet I started to believe I was fat in the third grade. Due to food insecurity and nutritionally availability I was a few pounds overweight but never anything I saw in my mind. My ED started to manifest my freshman year of High School.
Due to hard work, I was a slightly chubby cheerleader and let me tell you, this girl can jump. My skinny friends on the team could barely get off the ground while my toe touches were a source of pride. It happened when I was cheering with all the other cheerleaders at Varsity Homecoming. A group of boys in the crowd started cheering to me "You're Fat *clap clap*, Lose Weight." I plastered on a smile and did the best damn toe touch I could muster. A tiny blip of pride was deep in my heart when they all then said "Wow! You're really good!" But it was too late. The damage was done.
I was 14. I was 14 and I began to develop an overexercise addiction. I began to run everyday. Sometimes twice a day. In the summer if I overate, I made myself throw up. I lost about 40lbs that summer. I was wearing a size 10. I was so proud! If only anyone had noticed...no one said to me great job, or you look great! So I thought I must still be fat...and my downward spiral began.
Now I can look back and connect my food insecurity as a young girl with my eating disorder as a teen. The drive to prove that I just wasn't a trailer park kid but a smart and successful kid became the drive to compulsively exercise and binge and purge. My hate for normal people became the burn in my stomach when I starved myself.
I would never wish for anyone to feel about food the way that I still do. Food at times is still a reward, a source of guilt, a pleasure, a punishment...
Is there really any reason for any child to grow up without adequate food? Is it really so bad that some of our tax dollars go towards allowing a child to be able to have food? Is it fair that there are still millions of children that have never had food security a day in their life? Is it right for society to convince children they are fat?
Sometimes, I really hate the world we live in.
Having food security means that you have food available, food access, and food use. Food availability is having enough food. Food access is having resources, both economic and physical, to obtain appropriate foods for a nutritious diet. Food use is the appropriate use based on knowledge of basic nutrition and care, as well as adequate water and sanitation.
Food security can further be defined for a household. A household has food security when all members at all times to enough food for an active, healthy life. Food security also includes the availability of nutritionally adequate and safe foods as well as being able to receive food from socially acceptable ways; that is without resorting to emergency food supplies, scavenging, stealing, or other coping strategies.
When I think back to the days when it was just Mom and I, I am positive we did not have food security. There were times all we had left to eat were a few cans of vegetables and powdered milk. I know my mom would go hungry so I could eat all the time. There was more often than not, no way to get to the store besides the long walk. In terms of nutrition it's hard to explain...
I have always been a fruit and vegetable lover. My mom as well. It's not that we never had fruits or vegetables, we did, but they were always canned; because that is what we could afford. Canned vegetables aren't too bad for you but canned fruit in sugar syrup? Yeah...Not to mention when all you have had to eat for a week is canned peas the first item on the grocery list is not usually canned peas.
Since Mom and I never had enough money, not even enough money to eat, when we did have money or food stamps we got a lot of food.
A trip to the grocery store the first of the month my mom loaded our cart. I can remember being so excited to be at the store and my mom let me put in the cart whatever I wanted...which was, come on, junk food. When we had extra money we always went to McDonald's and so our food insecurity turned food into a reward.
My relationship with food has never been normal. I grew up a trailer park kid who's refrigerator was never really full. I grew up with binging on delicious food because I didn't know when I would eat so well again. I grew up going to bed hungry at times because there was nothing to eat. Is it really any surprise that I would eventually develop an eating disorder?
When I look at pictures of myself from childhood I looked like a normal kid. Yet I started to believe I was fat in the third grade. Due to food insecurity and nutritionally availability I was a few pounds overweight but never anything I saw in my mind. My ED started to manifest my freshman year of High School.
Due to hard work, I was a slightly chubby cheerleader and let me tell you, this girl can jump. My skinny friends on the team could barely get off the ground while my toe touches were a source of pride. It happened when I was cheering with all the other cheerleaders at Varsity Homecoming. A group of boys in the crowd started cheering to me "You're Fat *clap clap*, Lose Weight." I plastered on a smile and did the best damn toe touch I could muster. A tiny blip of pride was deep in my heart when they all then said "Wow! You're really good!" But it was too late. The damage was done.
I was 14. I was 14 and I began to develop an overexercise addiction. I began to run everyday. Sometimes twice a day. In the summer if I overate, I made myself throw up. I lost about 40lbs that summer. I was wearing a size 10. I was so proud! If only anyone had noticed...no one said to me great job, or you look great! So I thought I must still be fat...and my downward spiral began.
Now I can look back and connect my food insecurity as a young girl with my eating disorder as a teen. The drive to prove that I just wasn't a trailer park kid but a smart and successful kid became the drive to compulsively exercise and binge and purge. My hate for normal people became the burn in my stomach when I starved myself.
I would never wish for anyone to feel about food the way that I still do. Food at times is still a reward, a source of guilt, a pleasure, a punishment...
Is there really any reason for any child to grow up without adequate food? Is it really so bad that some of our tax dollars go towards allowing a child to be able to have food? Is it fair that there are still millions of children that have never had food security a day in their life? Is it right for society to convince children they are fat?
Sometimes, I really hate the world we live in.
Monday, June 18, 2012
The Other Redhead
When you grow up in a trailer park and are surrounded by poverty there are certain things you are exposed to at a young age. Many of the things I have seen at an early age many people will never experience, let alone believe actually exist. The one thing I have plenty of experience with, that is a blessing and a curse, is addiction.
Addiction is serious. It's not just something people can turn off or stop doing with a snap of their fingers. Addiction is everywhere. Not only did I see it in my playmates parents, I saw the evidence of the bruises on my playmates arms. I saw it in their eyes when they asked for food. I heard it in their voice when they never wanted to go home. Not only did I see it in other families, I saw it happen in my own.
When my Dad married for the first time he had my brother Chuck and sisters Jodi and Stephanie with his wife. My Dad's first wife killed herself and my siblings found her. I have always thought this is why all three of these sibling began to deal with drug and addictions issues. Ever since I can remember I have know what drugs are and what they do to people.
My sister Jodi was the worst off. I cannot remember a time where she was sober. I never understood why. She was so beautiful. When I see old pictures, I favor her, but she had the skinny Wyant body that unfortunately passed me by.
I remember my mom wanting to go and visit Jodi. (Even though she and my Dad were long divorced, she was very bonded to Chuck, Jodi, and Steph.) There were times no one knew where Jodi was. I suspect due to being involved with drugs she had to move a lot. She never had any money. Her children were taken from her...yet it always seemed to me that my parents and sibling supported her. They always wanted to find her, give her money, try to get her to stop. That is something I will always struggle with. My family watched her snort her life up her nose. Why didn't they take a tougher approach? Did she ever go to rehab (not to my knowledge)? Because what ended up happening is this: my stepmother found her dead in her apartment.
My entire life I knew that Jodi did drugs. I knew she was an addict. My family did not tiptoe around it; my mom knew I was aware of what was really happening. You know what, I am glad they didn't sugar-coat it because I have never in my life wanted to try drugs. It hurts to know that due to addiction my Dad lost a daughter, my siblings a sister, her children their mother.
I have two nieces that I have never met somewhere in this world. Addiction took them apart. Addiction took their mother.
There are people in this world that do not understand what addiction means. They think that the people who deal with drugs and alcohol are faking and are weak. Maybe that's even harder to understand. I can't be mad at my family for trying so hard with Jodi, can I? I do find it hard not to be mad at Jodi. She had people begging to help her and she constantly threw it away.
I think the reason why I have never in my life wanted to experience drugs is because from an early age I saw it around me and in my family to know what happens with addiction. I never had to wonder what would happen if I tried drugs because I knew. I knew that I didn't want to be starving. I knew that I didn't want to move from town to town. I knew I didn't want to be beaten. I knew that I didn't want die.
I wish Jodi was still here so she could tell her story.
Addiction is serious. It's not just something people can turn off or stop doing with a snap of their fingers. Addiction is everywhere. Not only did I see it in my playmates parents, I saw the evidence of the bruises on my playmates arms. I saw it in their eyes when they asked for food. I heard it in their voice when they never wanted to go home. Not only did I see it in other families, I saw it happen in my own.
When my Dad married for the first time he had my brother Chuck and sisters Jodi and Stephanie with his wife. My Dad's first wife killed herself and my siblings found her. I have always thought this is why all three of these sibling began to deal with drug and addictions issues. Ever since I can remember I have know what drugs are and what they do to people.
My sister Jodi was the worst off. I cannot remember a time where she was sober. I never understood why. She was so beautiful. When I see old pictures, I favor her, but she had the skinny Wyant body that unfortunately passed me by.
I remember my mom wanting to go and visit Jodi. (Even though she and my Dad were long divorced, she was very bonded to Chuck, Jodi, and Steph.) There were times no one knew where Jodi was. I suspect due to being involved with drugs she had to move a lot. She never had any money. Her children were taken from her...yet it always seemed to me that my parents and sibling supported her. They always wanted to find her, give her money, try to get her to stop. That is something I will always struggle with. My family watched her snort her life up her nose. Why didn't they take a tougher approach? Did she ever go to rehab (not to my knowledge)? Because what ended up happening is this: my stepmother found her dead in her apartment.
My entire life I knew that Jodi did drugs. I knew she was an addict. My family did not tiptoe around it; my mom knew I was aware of what was really happening. You know what, I am glad they didn't sugar-coat it because I have never in my life wanted to try drugs. It hurts to know that due to addiction my Dad lost a daughter, my siblings a sister, her children their mother.
I have two nieces that I have never met somewhere in this world. Addiction took them apart. Addiction took their mother.
There are people in this world that do not understand what addiction means. They think that the people who deal with drugs and alcohol are faking and are weak. Maybe that's even harder to understand. I can't be mad at my family for trying so hard with Jodi, can I? I do find it hard not to be mad at Jodi. She had people begging to help her and she constantly threw it away.
I think the reason why I have never in my life wanted to experience drugs is because from an early age I saw it around me and in my family to know what happens with addiction. I never had to wonder what would happen if I tried drugs because I knew. I knew that I didn't want to be starving. I knew that I didn't want to move from town to town. I knew I didn't want to be beaten. I knew that I didn't want die.
I wish Jodi was still here so she could tell her story.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Cook Your Rat and Eat It Too
There are two very important life lessons I learned early on from growing up in a trailer park. The importance of loyalty and true friendship.
Most of the time, if you live in a trailer park, you are going through similar situations as your neighbors. Usually the parents are overworked and the kids are left to fend for themselves. What that usually means is that the kids in the trailer park create a bond like no other bond. It's a bond of understanding. It's a bond of loyalty. And even if are not truly "friends" with everyone, there is a bond of friendship.
I can tell you this. Trailer park kids know how to have fun.
I believe my imagination and creative side came from being a trailer park kid. We were always inventing new games to play...even if we didn't exactly have the right equipment.
One thing that we did everyday was ride bikes. I didn't have a bike to join in for a long time until my grandparents gave me one for a birthday. I'll never forget that bike because I hated it. It was a white and yellow huffy with a big yellow banana seat. How dare I have a banana seat bike and not a coveted 10-speed. I looked like I was riding a banana! But a bike is a bike...so I rode it all the same. (I must admit, I wish I still had that bike.)
I'll never forget my best friend Misty and I loved playing with our dolls (we pretended they were cabbage patches). One summer day we decided we wanted to take our dolls for a bike ride. So we did.
We took a laundry basket from my house, her brother's skateboard, and tied them together using a jump rope. We then used another jump rope to attach the skateboard to one of our bikes. In went a blanket. In went the dolls and we were off. When I look back on that memory, how happy, carefree, and proud we were of our invention...how we pulled those dolls taking turns with our bikes until the sun went down...I have to wonder...would we have done that if our situations were different? What if we had a wagon? What if we lived in a real neighborhood? I still feel like we were the only two kids to ever figure out such a contraption.
If you have ever been to a trailer park, you have probably seen some crazy unsafe things just hanging around. At ours we had an big empty metal tank. I just did a Google search and I cannot find what in the world this thing was...which tells me us playing on it was probably really dumb. But man was it fun.
It was pretty high off the ground from my memory. We would climb up, sit, and it became our very own imagination station. We loved the sound it made when we would clang our feet against the metal. It did kind of smell like gas come to think of it...I'm glad we didn't turn into a real rocket ship.
During the days of bike rides and climbing on the imagination station when the sun would start to go down, were weren't done playing. I remember me, Misty, her little brother, and other trailer park kids sitting around in a circle on the grass. I can still feel the soft grass. It was longer than most grass; it was like sitting on a pillow. We would sit there and sing. One of our favorites was "God Bless the U.S.A." by Lee Greenwood. I remember feeling proud and free during those days on the grass in between our trailers. I don't think I have felt that sense of pride and unity sense. That something special that we all shared living in the trailer park.
I have one more story for today that involves my friends Caren and Nick when I would go to her trailer park.
Her trailer park was much bigger than mine. They had a big field with a pond, a "forest", and blackberry trees. Caren, Nick, and I would adventure in the forest for hours and end our quest by picking and eating the blackberries. I have never had a berry so sweet and juicy in my life. We would head back to Caren's house with dirty feet, grass-stained knees, and berry stained lips and fingers. Caren's mom was like my mom. She was very cool. We didn't get in trouble for coming home dirty. We just had to wash-up for dinner.
Caren's mom was a good cook. I think I had Chinese food with them for the very first time. Caren was always a joker and she told me the chicken was rat. She was my best friend, of course I believe her. I was horrified. But the joke was on me. Before you knew it there was laughter and trailer full of kids singing about eating rat. Kenny, Barb, Caren, and me...life really couldn't have been any better.
Most of the time, if you live in a trailer park, you are going through similar situations as your neighbors. Usually the parents are overworked and the kids are left to fend for themselves. What that usually means is that the kids in the trailer park create a bond like no other bond. It's a bond of understanding. It's a bond of loyalty. And even if are not truly "friends" with everyone, there is a bond of friendship.
I can tell you this. Trailer park kids know how to have fun.
I believe my imagination and creative side came from being a trailer park kid. We were always inventing new games to play...even if we didn't exactly have the right equipment.
One thing that we did everyday was ride bikes. I didn't have a bike to join in for a long time until my grandparents gave me one for a birthday. I'll never forget that bike because I hated it. It was a white and yellow huffy with a big yellow banana seat. How dare I have a banana seat bike and not a coveted 10-speed. I looked like I was riding a banana! But a bike is a bike...so I rode it all the same. (I must admit, I wish I still had that bike.)
I'll never forget my best friend Misty and I loved playing with our dolls (we pretended they were cabbage patches). One summer day we decided we wanted to take our dolls for a bike ride. So we did.
We took a laundry basket from my house, her brother's skateboard, and tied them together using a jump rope. We then used another jump rope to attach the skateboard to one of our bikes. In went a blanket. In went the dolls and we were off. When I look back on that memory, how happy, carefree, and proud we were of our invention...how we pulled those dolls taking turns with our bikes until the sun went down...I have to wonder...would we have done that if our situations were different? What if we had a wagon? What if we lived in a real neighborhood? I still feel like we were the only two kids to ever figure out such a contraption.
If you have ever been to a trailer park, you have probably seen some crazy unsafe things just hanging around. At ours we had an big empty metal tank. I just did a Google search and I cannot find what in the world this thing was...which tells me us playing on it was probably really dumb. But man was it fun.
It was pretty high off the ground from my memory. We would climb up, sit, and it became our very own imagination station. We loved the sound it made when we would clang our feet against the metal. It did kind of smell like gas come to think of it...I'm glad we didn't turn into a real rocket ship.
During the days of bike rides and climbing on the imagination station when the sun would start to go down, were weren't done playing. I remember me, Misty, her little brother, and other trailer park kids sitting around in a circle on the grass. I can still feel the soft grass. It was longer than most grass; it was like sitting on a pillow. We would sit there and sing. One of our favorites was "God Bless the U.S.A." by Lee Greenwood. I remember feeling proud and free during those days on the grass in between our trailers. I don't think I have felt that sense of pride and unity sense. That something special that we all shared living in the trailer park.
I have one more story for today that involves my friends Caren and Nick when I would go to her trailer park.
Her trailer park was much bigger than mine. They had a big field with a pond, a "forest", and blackberry trees. Caren, Nick, and I would adventure in the forest for hours and end our quest by picking and eating the blackberries. I have never had a berry so sweet and juicy in my life. We would head back to Caren's house with dirty feet, grass-stained knees, and berry stained lips and fingers. Caren's mom was like my mom. She was very cool. We didn't get in trouble for coming home dirty. We just had to wash-up for dinner.
Caren's mom was a good cook. I think I had Chinese food with them for the very first time. Caren was always a joker and she told me the chicken was rat. She was my best friend, of course I believe her. I was horrified. But the joke was on me. Before you knew it there was laughter and trailer full of kids singing about eating rat. Kenny, Barb, Caren, and me...life really couldn't have been any better.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Playing Opossum
Today I want to tell you a little bit about being on welfare and what poor looked like for my mom and me.
My mom and I received food stamps. I can't tell you how much. All I know is we could only go grocery shopping once per month. My mom made sure we had lots of staples. I can remember when it was the end of the month because dinner was often creamed peas made with instant milk. If you have never had instant milk, take it from me, it's not very good.
We also couldn't afford a car. That meant that almost all of our grocery trips (unless one of my mom's friends took us) we did on foot. We lived about 2-miles from the grocery...well...maybe more...and we would walk there and walk home with bags upon bags. In the cold. In the heat. But that is not what I remember. What I remember most is the fun my mom and I had on those adventures. My mom knew how to talk to me and she knew how to make anything fun. Believe when you don't have any money you find ways to make things that do not cost any money fun.
One of my most favorite things we use to do for fun during the fall was walk to the park and collect nature items for our cornucopia. Even though our cornucopia was on a plate it is one of the things I remember most. My mom would keep it on display on the kitchen table as long as possible. I can still feel the warm breeze and smell the sweet grass and pungent fallen walnuts. We never had anything fancy but we did have a lot of fun making memories.
The other part of being poor is that you can't afford repairs. Our trailer was in bad shape. The ceiling tiles would fill with water and then collapse...and there was a hole in our bathroom floor...oh yeah and mushrooms growing in the spare room. I never had friends over because I was too embarrassed. But it was what we could afford and it was home.
Oh the hole in the bathroom floor. I'll never forget my sister Stephanie had come to visit and she and my mom were coloring their hair. I've always loved the smell of hair color. I was playing in my room when I heard them shriek. It seemed that the hole in the floor was a really big deal...because a opossum came on up and into our bathroom. I remember peering in and seeing it stare back at us with it's ugly, beady eyes. And I remember I couldn't go to the bathroom until it left. That took a while.
No we didn't call the exterminator. We just waited for it to leave which it eventually did. Then my mom, my sister, and I all had a good laugh. Because that is something I learned early on, make the best of every situation and always look for the humor life brings. Who else ever had a opossum in their bathroom?
My mom and I received food stamps. I can't tell you how much. All I know is we could only go grocery shopping once per month. My mom made sure we had lots of staples. I can remember when it was the end of the month because dinner was often creamed peas made with instant milk. If you have never had instant milk, take it from me, it's not very good.
We also couldn't afford a car. That meant that almost all of our grocery trips (unless one of my mom's friends took us) we did on foot. We lived about 2-miles from the grocery...well...maybe more...and we would walk there and walk home with bags upon bags. In the cold. In the heat. But that is not what I remember. What I remember most is the fun my mom and I had on those adventures. My mom knew how to talk to me and she knew how to make anything fun. Believe when you don't have any money you find ways to make things that do not cost any money fun.
One of my most favorite things we use to do for fun during the fall was walk to the park and collect nature items for our cornucopia. Even though our cornucopia was on a plate it is one of the things I remember most. My mom would keep it on display on the kitchen table as long as possible. I can still feel the warm breeze and smell the sweet grass and pungent fallen walnuts. We never had anything fancy but we did have a lot of fun making memories.
The other part of being poor is that you can't afford repairs. Our trailer was in bad shape. The ceiling tiles would fill with water and then collapse...and there was a hole in our bathroom floor...oh yeah and mushrooms growing in the spare room. I never had friends over because I was too embarrassed. But it was what we could afford and it was home.
Oh the hole in the bathroom floor. I'll never forget my sister Stephanie had come to visit and she and my mom were coloring their hair. I've always loved the smell of hair color. I was playing in my room when I heard them shriek. It seemed that the hole in the floor was a really big deal...because a opossum came on up and into our bathroom. I remember peering in and seeing it stare back at us with it's ugly, beady eyes. And I remember I couldn't go to the bathroom until it left. That took a while.
No we didn't call the exterminator. We just waited for it to leave which it eventually did. Then my mom, my sister, and I all had a good laugh. Because that is something I learned early on, make the best of every situation and always look for the humor life brings. Who else ever had a opossum in their bathroom?
What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger
I have been thinking about sharing my story for quite some time hoping that I can help others. I have had a very non-traditional road of growing up. I have experienced a lot of different things that most people will never experience. I have forged through a rocky trail...and while many of the things I want to write about were really hard, they have all made me a better person and have made me who I am today.
Today I feel like telling you a bit about my youngest years...years that I really cannot remember.
My Mom and Dad welcomed me into the world when she was 27 and he was 38. I am mother's first and only child, my dads sixth and final child. When I was born I lived with my mom, dad, sister Jodi, sister Stephanie, and brother Chuck. On the weekends my brothers Matt and Mark stayed. The house was full with an infant, toddlers, children, and teenagers. I think to myself if I was 27 with six kids that spanned several years...well it's safe to say I don't know how my parents did it. Not only were their six kids my dad was building his own construction business. I wish I could remember us all being together...but that is something I would never experience as my parents divorced when I was one and I grew up with my mom.
It's safe to say I had a non-traditional childhood...well it was the 80s..so now it's not so non-traditional. I lived with my mom and saw my dad on the weekends. My mom and I lived in a trailer. We were on welfare.
Yep. I grew up on welfare. This is really where I hope to inspire people because I believe with my heart of hearts that I would not be where I am today if my mom did not have that assistance. Where am I today? Well...I have a bachelor's degree and a Master's degree. I also have a pretty sweet job and I own my own home. Not bad for a welfare reject, huh?
When I say a grew up with my mom, I mean it. She stayed home with me. She cooked what we could afford. She taught me how to the read, taking me to the library daily. She made sure I was clean. She made sure I shared with other kids. She made sure I did my homework. She made sure I stayed out of trouble and so much more. I am so glad she was there for me. I am so glad she could be there for me. Where would I be if I was another government latchkey kid?
My mom did work...before any of you get your panties in a ruffle. She had to work in order for us to keep our assistance. She worked at one of our area schools as a janitor. When I look back to those years, just her and me, proud of my mom for working at the school, they are my most favorite memories. Even though we were very poor and the government was taking care of us, my mom made sure we never took advantage. That is something that could not be more evident than where I am today. My mom always wanted better for me and she did her best to give me everything she could. There are not many mom's today that are that selfless. She sacrificed a lot and made sure I learned lessons so I could get out of poverty. So that I could be educated. So that I would rise above.
This is my foundation. Being the poor kid. Being the kid that never had birthday parties. The kid that never took a family vacation. The kid that received free school lunch. The kid that washed her clothes in the bathtub. But this kid preserved. And that is what my story is all about.
Today I feel like telling you a bit about my youngest years...years that I really cannot remember.
My Mom and Dad welcomed me into the world when she was 27 and he was 38. I am mother's first and only child, my dads sixth and final child. When I was born I lived with my mom, dad, sister Jodi, sister Stephanie, and brother Chuck. On the weekends my brothers Matt and Mark stayed. The house was full with an infant, toddlers, children, and teenagers. I think to myself if I was 27 with six kids that spanned several years...well it's safe to say I don't know how my parents did it. Not only were their six kids my dad was building his own construction business. I wish I could remember us all being together...but that is something I would never experience as my parents divorced when I was one and I grew up with my mom.
It's safe to say I had a non-traditional childhood...well it was the 80s..so now it's not so non-traditional. I lived with my mom and saw my dad on the weekends. My mom and I lived in a trailer. We were on welfare.
Yep. I grew up on welfare. This is really where I hope to inspire people because I believe with my heart of hearts that I would not be where I am today if my mom did not have that assistance. Where am I today? Well...I have a bachelor's degree and a Master's degree. I also have a pretty sweet job and I own my own home. Not bad for a welfare reject, huh?
When I say a grew up with my mom, I mean it. She stayed home with me. She cooked what we could afford. She taught me how to the read, taking me to the library daily. She made sure I was clean. She made sure I shared with other kids. She made sure I did my homework. She made sure I stayed out of trouble and so much more. I am so glad she was there for me. I am so glad she could be there for me. Where would I be if I was another government latchkey kid?
My mom did work...before any of you get your panties in a ruffle. She had to work in order for us to keep our assistance. She worked at one of our area schools as a janitor. When I look back to those years, just her and me, proud of my mom for working at the school, they are my most favorite memories. Even though we were very poor and the government was taking care of us, my mom made sure we never took advantage. That is something that could not be more evident than where I am today. My mom always wanted better for me and she did her best to give me everything she could. There are not many mom's today that are that selfless. She sacrificed a lot and made sure I learned lessons so I could get out of poverty. So that I could be educated. So that I would rise above.
This is my foundation. Being the poor kid. Being the kid that never had birthday parties. The kid that never took a family vacation. The kid that received free school lunch. The kid that washed her clothes in the bathtub. But this kid preserved. And that is what my story is all about.
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