This week I have been sharing some of the stories of my book. A lifetime of stories lived. Some of the stories I have lived will never be shared – for various reasons…some because they are not my story to tell(I am a mother after all) Some because the trauma prevents. So many lives are books stuck on dusty shelves. Never shared for various reasons. I need to share my stories. As a survivor of childhood sex abuse I felt like my voice was taken from me. For me, telling my stories is empowering. For others it is not. I would never try to force the telling of a life.
However, I also want to be clear. I am always willing to hear the story of the lives you have lived. I devour books like the dragon I am…and if you choose to present me with more to read I will revel in it.
Thank you for allowing me to share the stories this week. For me, it is the best form of immortality. I when I am gone will remain due to the book written by my words.
I have a huge family. My parents were each from families of five children. So there were lots of cousins. My grandmother wanted my brother and me to know our cousins. So every summer for a few years – I believe it was like five but the memories are so infused into my childhood that I am not sure, she would drive us out to my aunt’s farm to visit. Mom has three sisters and a brother.
Her brother was into cosplay before cosplay was cool. He did his costumes without a pattern. I used to have pictures of him in his spiderman costume with Stan Lee. He was one of my childhood heroes. Mostly because of how creative he was. I had a lot of childhood heroes that I could look up to. Still, he lived close so he was not involved in our trips.
One of the sisters was Navy. She lived in Florida and still does. She did not choose to have children till later in life. My cousins on that front are amazing, but closer in age to my son. So they were not around when we were doing these trips.
The trips, and the cousins, were based in Michigan. A gorgeous small community near the Canadian border…Boyne City. My one aunt had a farm and though I don’t know what the other aunt did, she lived nearby. The farmer had two boys, one close to me in age and one closer to my little brother. The other aunt had a boy and a girl. The boy is elder than I, I am not sure by how much, and her daughter was my age. We stayed at the farm when we went. I remember drinking milk straight from the cow and riding ponies. I remember my cousin telling me dirty jokes in the barn. I remember all of us kids playing in the coal shute – it looked like a black sandbox. Then we were all thrown in the bath together because we were covered in coal dust. The summers there were amazing.
Now this story is about one of those trips. We lived somewhere between Virginia and Maryland. Grandma lived in Alexandria. She lived in basically the same place my whole childhood. That is why I often claimed her place was home. She had a station wagon…much like the one pictured on the top of the post. The trip between home and my aunt’s farm was a long one. We would drive up and back. On that particular trip, we were somewhere in Ohio on the way to the farm. Grandma was having trouble with the car, and she never did…but it was not acting right.
I remember her deciding to get off at an exit that was coming up. She took the exit ramp, and it was one of those that turned around and went in a circle. She was going slow, because it was an exit ramp, and thank goodness she was. I remember her cursing…mind you when I say she rarely did. The next thing I saw looking out the window was the passenger side rear axle and wheel rolling away ahead of us down the exit.
She somehow managed to get us pulled off of the ramp into the grass. This was way before cell phones…and she had two little children with her. My brother was a toddler. I am seven years older than he, and we stopped those trips around the time I turned eleven or twelve. I am not sure but I believe that this was on the last one. If it was I really can’t blame grandma. We walked to the nearest place where grandma could call for help.
She was good at handling emergencies. Obviously, we survived, but I remember it being a huge thing. I remember the fear when we saw the axle and the wheel rolling away. Yes, It was worse because it wasn’t just the wheel. Somehow just the wheel would have been comedic. This felt like we were in real danger because it was more than the wheel.
So many of my memories from childhood are based around trauma, mostly because that is what cemented the memories into my brain. This one is both different and not. Though the fear was there… I knew I was safe. This one has all of the wonderful memories of the trips attached. The cousins that I got to visit and know because of them. Two of those cousins are gone now. The little farm boy who told me dirty jokes lost his life on a snowmobile. The daughter of my aunt passed away as well – due to more natural causes. So all I have left of those cousins are the memories of summers spent in childhood. If you can, let your cousins know you love them. I am lucky enough to still have the cousins on my dad’s side.
Well, this was not supposed to be a dark story. I was trying to tell it for the fun oh my goodness type tale it used to be. Now I am melancholy at the loss of the cousins. So I will leave the blog well enough alone, maybe tomorrow I will go back to posting the normal stuff. It depends on how I feel in the morning.
Trying to get books ready for publication, writing more, and recovering from a really nasty infection…means the blog caught neglect. So here is a poem written today titled The White Whale…
I was trying for a sandstorm on a beach at sunset…I swear it looked better in my brain. lol I have found that drawing on a digital medium is more fun, but I am better with pencil and paper. I have more control with a pencil than I do with digital. What medium do you do best with?
Ok. I love Abstract art…mostly as an artist. My personal taste in art to hang in my home is Faeries, pagan symbolism, and cutesy stuff. For creating tho…Abstract rocks. When I was starting to allow myself to play with digital creation…I was struggling. I found myself saying too often “but it doesn’t look like…” and it was not helping my self-esteem and my creative nature. It Bloody hurt. I started lessening the standard I was holding my art to. I started creating beautiful swirls and pieces that I could see several things in. The fun thing about abstracts is that everyone sees something different in them. I have since learned a few things and do abstracts because they are fun, but it is not the only art I can create. Sometimes just changing your perspective can help you to create.
Last week I gave you excuses and the slow dripping of art and poetry for the week. This week I scheduled at the same time…mostly because I don’t believe I am going to have the wherewithal to do better this week. I will try to do better in April. I do want to point out that the poetry I shared was from stuff I have yet to put on pretty graphics. I did want you to see new stuff, but the energy levels I have been keeping as the stress levels have been this high have been abysmal. I have been writing…and I will have some new graphics in April to share. (Those were in previous volumes and ones I had decided not to share originally.) This week I will be sharing some of the book covers I have designed that are still waiting for someone to want them. I will also share more art and poetry. Next week will, for good or ill, see this stress done. I will go back to my normal routine. Thank you again for your patience with me.
I normally schedule my blog posts on Sunday for the week…and when I don’t I end up with the posts for the week not going up. I don’t intend it, it just happens that way. Well, the next two weeks are wrought with Stress due to an upcoming court situation. (My boyfriend has been trying to get his disability, and I am worried for him. It is not my court day but that often does not excuse the stress we feel when someone we care about is facing a major event.) So I cannot promise how well I will be doing until after the 30th. I am going to schedule this week today…or try to. I am having trouble with a stress headache today. So I thank you for your patience if I am less posty for the next two weeks. It is been much of the reason why March has been spotty. I have been writing and doing the work for Fae Corps to get the books out…but my poor blog has been too much to deal with sometimes. That is something I am trying to work on. I may end up just posting poetry and art this week instead of trying to keep my daily themes going.
Ok I have a question. What is art? Each person sees art differently. This was photo manipulation. I think of it as art…But I know others will not. When you are looking at creating you need to answer that question for yourself. What do you consider art? It will make creation flow easier if you have the answer.
Lyrics – That’s just what they told me You could be a patriot Don’t you love your country? Don’t you wanna die for it? How could they enlist me? I was only seventeen It’s better to be thankful Than challenge their authority This is how the world is This is how they suck you in Manipulate the broken To suffer every consequence They gave me a machine gun But I don’t wanna hurt no one There’s nothing here to fight for This is someone else’s war That’s just what they told me Son, you could be a patriot Defender of your country Protector of the innocent We’ll beat ’em with a clenched fist By order of your government They said we were the good guys But what if we’re the terrorists? This is how the world is This is how they suck you in Manipulate the broken To suffer every consequence They gave me a machine gun But I don’t wanna hurt no one There’s nothing here to fight for This is someone else’s war This is how the world ends This is how they suck you in Manipulate the broken To suffer every consequence I’m only a statistic And no one even gives a shit The treatment for my shell shock Yeah, they won’t even pay for it I fired that machine gun I never meant to hurt no one And as my friends and foes bleed We satisfy a rich man’s greed Maybe I don’t know a damn thing I’ve never been through anything This is all I can be A voice for someone else’s grief He fired that machine gun She never meant to hurt no one ‘Cause once you leave a headstone You never really make it home
My 2 Cents- This song feels appropriate due to world events. There will always be war, a fact that breaks my pacifistic heart. The soldiers are not to blame for the war, they are just another victim. And I want to cry at the helplessness the whole thing brings. So I will scream that I want peace…I will cry for the lost. And I will hope that the politicians someday hear us.,