http://tossingitout.blogspot.com

First of all I want to let you all know that my 6 year old Grandson Jimmy informed me I spelled Marriage wrong in my “M” post.  I really thought I didthe fix.  Oh well…

Onto “O”…I chose Original.

Being original scared the heck out of me for most of my youth.  I wanted the same hair the same clothes, the same book bag, the same dolls every other little girl had.   If I had something different; anything that could possibly attract attention my way, it was a source of overwhelming anxiety.

It was very difficult being from my family and wanting to blend in with the scenery.  My parents fought all the time.  I did everything in my power to hide that fact.  My friends had parents that never fought.  They called each other honey and dear.

By the time I was in 4th grade I could not hide my ‘different’ family anymore.  My mother talk valium all the time.  I f I did not dress and feed my younger sister and brother it did not get done.  If I did not walk us to the bus stop we did not go to school.  If I did not clean the house my father would fight with my mother all night about her laziness.

When an ambulance came to our house to take my mother away for an attempted suicide my gig was up.  Everyone new.  We were a horrible family.  I never wanted her to come back.  I knew I was no good for feeling that way.

My saving grace was my father had been spending a lot of time turning an attic into a bedroom for me.  He was hand making the shelves, a beautiful desk and built in drawers.  I was so excited that I would soon have my own room.  No more sharing space with my sister who complained every night that I read well into the night.

I came home from school one day and there was a U-Haul in our driveway.  All of the neighbors were out, the news bodies that they were.  When I walked into the house my mother informed me I had 1/2 hour to pack whatever I wanted.  We were moving.

I rolled with it until I arrived at a really dumpy apartment in a dumpy neighborhood and there was a very strange guy living with us.  I had no idea what to do or how to explain this strange guy away.  My life sucked.  I could not believe she took my father and my brand new room from me.

The only thing good to come out of that relationship was my two younger brothers.  I loved babies.  They were amazing.  I loved taking care of them.  I did take care of them.  I had too.

When the creepy guy assaulted me I new I was different and there was nothing I could do to hide that fact.

When I became a mother at 18 I finally wanted to be original.  I wanted to be the most perfect mother.  I finally embraced my originality.  I breast fed my daughter and no one was doing this then.  The nurses in the hospital actually bullied me about my choice.

I had been keeping very sad journals ever since I was 8 years old and suddenly I was a grown up and I was going to do things my way.  My journals became full of meaning.  I still refer to them today for ideas.

When I wanted to be an original author I had no idea a story that no one could write but me was headed my way.  I still fill with anxiety when I realize my dream of becoming an author is here and the story that got me here was the brutal murder of my oh so very loved youngest brother.  I have no idea how I am supposed to feel.  I’m guessing original.  I am not just another woman who has lost a loved one to violence.  I had to write the truth and  now everyone knows I always wanted to be unoriginal and just fade into the background.

This is certainly original for me and I know in my heart my brother would be very proud of the way I used my words to fight  and continue to fight for justice for him.

Doreen