The First 41: Getting Past My Past

So, from two weeks before I turned fourteen years of age until my eighteenth birthday, I was imprisoned in the jail called home. It’s all kind of a blur.  The years ran together just like the hours and minutes did in the darkness.  Mack was imprisoned during part of that time, too.  He had already started high school when she pulled him out, too.  He was in the ninth or tenth grade I believe when he got yanked.  I remember when he went off to the Navy.  I was so happy for him to be getting out of there.  I also vaguely remember him running away at one point before that, but I can’t remember the details of that very well.  I do, however, remember many long conversations with Mack. 

            We became very close during that time.  The most profound thing he told me had an affect on how I treated men later in life when I became wise enough to think about it and what it meant.  My brother told me how it felt the first time a girl ever laid her hand on his chest.  Not just how it felt physically, but how it felt in his heart.  I can’t even remember how he described it to be able to tell you, but it touched my heart.

            Later on in life, I took the time to look back on that memory and realized that men can be vulnerable and do have very deep emotions.  They are not just the sex machines most women think they are.  It’s amazing after all the sick men I’ve come in contact with in my life that I could even manage to come to such an epiphany. 

            My grandmother (Nonna) always said I have the most incredible ability to just get over it and the most amazing capacity for forgiveness.  You just keep thinkin’ that, Nonna.  I’m just doin’ the best I can to survive.  I think I have the most amazing ability to SURVIVE.  I also think I have angels watching over me.  I’m not a religious person by any means, but I believe in God and that He knows good people when he sees them. 

            Whew, another rambling tangent.  Sorry.