1 Woman Many Struggles

1 Woman Many Struggles

With every storm comes a new beginning…How a woman can survive damn near anything. I’m not writing this blog to be an inspiration or an example or anything else that anyone might come up with . I’m writing it because I need to. It’s dedicated to every female in the world. Every daughter, sister, wife and mother no matter your age, nationality or religion. I just want to share my story and allow you to share yours as well. I will share my struggles and success of growing up as a female, of working in a man’s world, of being a sister, a Mom and a wife. No I am NOT a feminist or a man hater. I’m just your everyday average though sometimes outspoken female. Who has been through a lot thus far in my life, I have no intentions of taking away from anyone else's story. There are many far more successful women out there in this big world we all call home and as well there are many more women out there who have seen much bigger struggles then I would ever want to imagine. I’m not a psychologist, not a psychoanalyst, not even a PHD in anything I’m just an average woman with a story to tell. No subject will be off limits here. I have no bias towards anyone. I don’t care if you are straight, gay, Bi, Transgender or anything else, if you consider yourself female your words are welcome here. For you all I will try my best to be your voice, to help you tell your story as well but in order to do that I have to tell mine first.

Just wanted to let you all know that I have not given up on my story. Just been having more then enough struggles to keep it going for a very long time. I will pick up right where I left off very soon. Meanwhile all stay strong and keep chugging along.

The never ending early years:

As I mentioned Mom remarried when I was 10 to a Baptist Minister. Up to this point we had been raised as Catholics, so the whole Priest, Nun, communion and the kneeling, standing, kneeling, standing, well you get the picture it was all we knew. So the whole religious confusion state set in and I was unsure if I should say a Hail Mary or sing Amazing Grace.

We moved out of my childhood neighborhood, away from my school and friends and everything that I knew to my new step father’s 40 acre hobby farm. I say hobby because the only animals he had were a big old dog and a mule. Who both soon became my best friends. Even at the age of 10 I preferred pets company over most people. So far in my young life not too many people had proven to me to be nice or trustworthy. I wasn’t shy by any means. I’d talk to anyone who would listen but I trusted no one.

We soon started our new school where I began the 6th grade. That’s the age where boys are starting to notice girls and girls are just mean especially to other girls. I wasn’t there a week when the class “Queen” Jill and her over jealous best friend Janice decided to pick a fight with the new girl. Yep that’d be me. One good thing about growing up with all brothers was that you got tough at a very young age. Still not sure to this day which one of us actually won that fight but no one picked on me ever again.That fight was the most memorable moment of the 6th grade but only for a few short weeks. Then my world became even worse.

PART 1 THE EARLY YEARS CONTINUED:

A little side note here, I apologize for the very long lull in my initial post and the second one that I am posting today. But as my title indicates 1 Woman’s Life, 1 Woman Many Struggles, is very true so many new struggles have happened over the most recent months that will eventually end up on these pages but I need to get to this point first. We have a long way to go.

So the many highlights of my next several years can be broken down as follows, we can always discuss details later if anyone cares to hear them.

Shortly after Mom and Dad’s divorce Mom started dating a Baptist Minister who she did end up getting married to. My brothers and I were with sitters while Mom dated or was at work and once when our regular sitter broke her arm and couldn’t come her older brother filled in for her and during the second time of his filling in, I was molested by him. I was eight at the time. The whole incident had me completely confused and I never told anyone and pretty much locked it away inside me. When Mom married the Baptist Minister we moved away from our hometown and away from the sitter, so I guess not seeing him did make me feel safer and help me to “not remember”.

Much later in life as adults he and I did meet face to face and he asked if I remembered when he was our sitter and if I remembered “everything”, he would not say what “everything” was just in case I didn’t remember. But I told him that I did indeed remember “everything” and we sorta left it at that. I believe he was trying to decide if I would ever come forward with it since he was a bit of a political figure in our home town by this time with what sounded like aspirations to move further up the food chain in politics. I’m not sure he ever did, but maybe for our blog I’ll look into that.

PART 1 GROWING UP FEMALE, THE EARLY YEARS

I grew up in a dysfunctional family like millions of other people, my Dad was an alcoholic, my parents divorced when I was nine, Mom remarried when I was ten. I was the only girl with four brothers. I blamed myself for my parents divorce for many years. Only because I was the one who spotted Dad’s car at the local bar and pointed it out to Mom but only because I was excited to see it but Mom was far from excited she stopped the car immediately went inside and told him to get his ass home and pack his belongings because it was over. Which he did as I stood outside crying next to his car while he loaded it up and drove away. Other then losing a pet this was the first time in my life that I experienced the horrible feeling of loss. Little did I know that this was a feeling I would endure many more times.