Blogging from A to Z April 2018: Wonder


Blogging from A to Z April 2018


Throughout your life have you ever wondered why you are who you, or why you have become the person you are with all of your faults and  all of your assets?

So, if I ever took the time to write my autobiography, it would be a tear jerker, a thriller and definitely a roller coaster of emotions. But before I can ever do that, I have to make some clear statements/inquisitions regarding my lifelong wonders.

To begin with, I am very well aware that I was a mistake. My mother was taking the pill when I was conceived in December 1965. My father was in the United States Navy at the time and I suppose he and mother did what most Navy couples do while the seaman is on leave. I wonder why it took me until the age of 3 1/2 to 4 to learn how to walk and even talk? My parents, grandparents and sisters say that I would just sit and grunt or cry if I wanted something up to a specific age.

I wonder why throughout my childhood, it seemed that my parents never wanted me around. I spent an awful lot of my childhood at one specific house locked in my bedroom – which really was a half room off of the garage. I remember distinctly that the cockroaches would come in from the garage and crawl all over the rom and sometimes on me. To this day it is my husband’s job to deal with roaches and any type of critter that gets in the house. I wonder why I never lived a true childhood? What I will say about my childhood is that I never had to guess whether my sisters Lori and Cindy loved their baby brother.

I wonder why at the age of six, I knew that I was different because when I looked at my uncle’s Hustler or other magazines that portrayed both men and women, I never looked at the women. I was so enthralled and excited even at that young age to be looking at a naked man’s body. I wonder why it took me so long to stop wetting my bed or even crapping in my bed? Was it for attention, I only received bad attention and my parents would make me go to school smelling like piss and shit.

I wonder why when I was in grade school, I would steal other people’s lunches and lie about – knowing the punishment at home would be to eat five or six jalapeno peppers and then being locked in my room. When I was in middle school I would steal from the little convenience store because I was always hungry. Ironically, when I was 22 years old I worked at that same convenience store as a Circle K and was accused by my manager of stealing while he was on District Manager ordered vacation. When that happened, I decided to show him how it was done and embezzled over 10K dollars in cash, money orders and merchandise in the period of two days. Mind you, I turned myself in on election day 1988 when George H. W. Bush was elected president. And was sentenced to 18 years in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice Institutional Division. I ended up doing almost two years – but I digress.

I wonder why at the age of 12, while my parents were going through a bitter divorce, again neither one of them wanted me. Mind you, yes, I was a troubled child and pre-teen, who wouldn’t be considering the lack of love and positive attention that was not received. I wonder why during the divorce proceedings the judge determined that it would be best if I were placed an institution for troubled and mentally challenged children. On September 13th 1979, after having spent the better part of a year in multiple group homes, I arrived at The Devereaux Foundation in Victoria, Texas. By the way, this was the day before my 13th birthday on September 14th. I asked if I would be able to talk to my mother on my birthday and I was told no. No calls or visits for the first 90 days. I guarantee this 12-year-old threw the biggest hissy fit to the point that my father who dropped me off with my current case manager insisted that my mother be able to call me on my birthday.

I wonder while at Devereaux, why I was allowed to what at the origination of it was a molestation of me by a boy who was two years older than me. His name was Randy Maggard and I still remember the day he told me that he wanted to plug me. I didn’t know what he meant but I was to find out. I will say that Randy and I had what I would a very consensual sexual relationship for almost three years until I left Devereaux in October 1982. Mind you, I was only supposed to be there for a year and yet my father felt compelled to pay the $2K a month to keep me there. In 1982 I went home to my mother and my sister Cindy.  

I wonder why at the age sixteen I continued to feel unwanted other than by my sisters. I started high school and I began that first job at McDonalds. I wonder why one night when I came home from work I learned that my mother had pawned the only possession that I had bought with earned money at Devereaux, my stereo. It was bad enough I had to sleep in the living room and then at one point because I wanted privacy, I slept in the bathroom. I wonder why at the age sixteen I became almost professional at shoplifting, clothes, books, cigarettes, meats – anything I fit into my clothes – was a target. I wonder why my mother encouraged me and often made requests of what she wanted me to shoplift. I wonder why I also became a pretty good check passer for a time. But both of these came to a quick halt after a couple of arrests.

This is just a taste of my earlier years. What I do not wonder about anymore is why me? Why did I have to become infected with HIV/AIDS on New Year’s Eve 1995 going into 1996? I know longer wonder why I am the child in our family who has been hit so hard with the addiction/alcoholism gene that runs on both sides of the family I believe. I no longer wonder why I am so beat down sometimes because of my bipolar affectation disorder and depression. I no longer wonder why I absolutely continue to sabotage myself every time something good is happening for me. Ok, that last one was a lie – I will never stop wondering  why that continues in my life.

Why do I no longer wonder about the above? Because I am unapologetic for being me because GOD does not make mistakes. I am who I am and yes, I am created in his image, only with flaws which makes me a continuous work in progress!!!

That’s what’s in “My Rattled Cage” today, thanks for stopping by!!






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